by Taryn Quinn
I inhaled through my nose, tears sparking briefly in my eyes as I stopped him just before my gag reflex engaged. The sound of the bubbling water and white noise buzzed in my ears, nearly blocking out everything.
His hand was on my hair now, stroking gently just as he’d done on the plane. The feeling instantly calmed me and allowed me to take more.
It was as if doing this one thing was now my purpose. Pushing his control and stretching mine. Giving him pleasure. Giving it to myself.
He undid my ponytail and my hair fell forward, sticking to my neck and chest, partially hiding my face. He gathered it up in his hand, drawing it back so carefully. Collecting each strand, pulling it back so nothing could impede his vision. He was watching every slide of my mouth, every flick of my tongue. Every alteration of my position so I didn’t take a mouthful of bubbles instead of him.
When I hollowed my cheeks and sucked, he groaned, and I tilted my head, squinting to watch the flex and bob of his Adam’s apple through the hazy sheen of tears. I’d pushed myself a little too hard but the slight burn in my throat was a badge of honor. I’d made him feel good, so good that his shoulders were strained, and his chest was heaving, his previously tender strokes on my hair becoming almost painful.
I craved that too.
He hauled himself back, and I watched the visible battle take place on his face. He was trying so hard not to rush me, not to hurt.
But I wanted that part of the experience too. I wanted him mindless over me.
I drew back just far enough to whisper against the shiny tip. “More.”
Our gazes connected and I knew he understood. The jets rose and frothed around my belly and teased my breasts as I eased myself closer using our height difference to my advantage. I pushed him back against the edge of the tub and gripped the side for balance.
The heat and thrill of controlling him—even a little bit—left me lightheaded. I slid my mouth down his shaft, taking as much as I could. He didn’t deny me that bite of pain. I wasn’t sure if I liked it, but my body certainly did. My clit fluttered and I pressed my thighs together to try to get some relief. He must’ve noticed, because he reached for me with his free hand, his expression questioning even as his lips parted to drag in air.
Subtly, I shifted away. This wasn’t about me. Not now. I’d take my enjoyment from seeing this through.
Every time it got to be too much, I eased back, caught my breath, and used my hand. Slow, fast, sometimes just grasping him before I swallowed him down again, as far as I could before the water and my own limits impeded me. But when I finally got up enough nerve to let my wandering fingers sneak beneath his shaft to the sensitive sac beneath, he dragged my head up, his eyes wild.
“I’m going to come.”
My heart was crashing in my ears, throbbing between my legs. I didn’t hesitate. My whole body was attuned to him, flushed and prickling with need. “Please,” I murmured, telling him with my eyes what I craved.
I needed to know.
“Sage,” he gritted, and my name at that moment was a benediction. “I don’t want to overwhelm you, but I can’t…I can’t.”
“Don’t hold back.” I let go of the tub and trailed my nails up the inside of his thigh, so close to his groin that his big body jerked. “I want it.”
And I did. That woodsy, manly scent of his was driving me crazy, combined with the much more intimate smell of sex. I liked his flavors, his textures. Him.
Proving it, I dipped my tongue into that tiny slit at the head of his length, and he growled, fisting his hand in my hair, holding me right where I was. Pinned by his power and his dark, demanding eyes.
His other hand worked his shaft in tandem with mine, the pressure of his grip showing me what he preferred. Making me speed up until it was a race who could work him harder.
“Open,” he commanded.
My lips barely parted in time. The first spurt hit my tongue, heady and potent. I didn’t have time to swallow before there was more, spilling into my mouth, slipping out the sides. I sucked and sucked, letting out a humming moan while he shuddered and pumped into me, not checking his strength.
I felt used in the very best way.
When I would’ve slumped onto my side right there in the hot tub, he dropped down and dragged me on top of him, fusing his mouth to mine. There was no sweetness to his kiss. It was pure savagery, chased by the flavor of him. He groaned at that too, his hand turning gentle in my hair again. His strokes down the long length turned rhythmic, lulling me into a secure space. My heartbeat slowed even as we kissed, as if I’d ridden to the very top of a roller coaster and now was the long, endless drop.
But at the bottom was Oliver to catch me.
“I want to take you to bed. We did this all wrong.”
Though I was sure he wasn’t criticizing, the word hit me in the chest just the same.
As if he could read me already, he cursed under his breath and cupped my cheek, his thumb feathering over my swollen lips. “No. This wasn’t wrong. This was the most incredible experience I’ve ever had.”
I frowned, sure I’d misheard him. “Beginner’s luck?” I managed, surprised that my voice was barely a rasp.
Giving a blowjob was way more physically demanding than it looked. I rubbed my achy jaw. I wondered if there was a workout program.
His lips curved. “You’re a natural seductress, just as I knew you’d be. But I should have kissed you first.” His gaze dropped to my breasts and singed me like a brand. “Everywhere.”
I couldn’t help gripping his thighs tighter with my own. His hand moved down to my hip, his blunt-tipped fingers sneaking under the clingy cotton of my shorts. The intention in his gaze left no mystery.
If I gave the slightest hint I was interested, he would go down on me. Fuck me and fill me until I was utterly ruined for any other man.
He didn’t need to say those words for me to hear them as clearly as if he’d spoken aloud.
Even after what we’d shared, I wasn’t ready. Not quite yet. I wanted to bask in this feeling for a little while longer. To savor this heady sense of power before he used his to flay me open and lay me bare.
At his mercy.
“I’d like that.” As his hand climbed higher, I cupped it and held it still. “Later.” I took a bolstering breath. “First, I’d like some dinner before we go see Celine Dion. Don’t worry, I have two tickets.”
His brow furrowed. “Why would I worry? Who would ever want to see her voluntarily?”
Ta-da. Just like that, he was back to being a dick. His hadn’t even stopped throbbing against my belly yet.
“I do.” I clambered off him, and yes, I might have delighted in deliberately standing over him so he could get an eyeful of my breasts. I was still tempted to cover them, but his expression was so hungry, it was impossible to worry overmuch about jiggling. I climbed out and picked up my cami before passing him his boxers. “If you’d like to join me, you’re welcome to. But if you’re coming along, don’t dally. If not,” I walked to the door and waved over my shoulder, “see you when I see you.”
He swore as I pulled the door shut behind me.
Six
Oliver
Death by Celine Dion was an actual thing. Who knew?
I would, by the end of this night.
Worst of all, the evening had started so innocuously. Well, after the blowjob that nearly blew my damn head off. But once I’d gotten out of the hot tub, wrung out my shorts, and slipped into the shower to clean up, my mind started to clear. Some. I was still revved up, almost to the point that I would’ve sworn I hadn’t come.
And I had. Incredibly. Right into the waiting mouth of the most gorgeous pain in the ass I’d ever known.
She was waiting for me when I got out of the shower. Not knowing what exactly her idea of dinner consisted of, I’d gone with a slate-gray suit and vest, sans tie. She had on a slinky navy sheath that hugged her curves, and her still-wet hair hung in long, curling waves down her back. My fing
ers had tingled at the sight of it. Fisting it had felt way too damn good. Natural.
As would taking a palm to her tight little ass.
Her smile had been saucy, as if she’d been let in on a big secret. Knowing. Yet she didn’t have a clue of all the pleasures that awaited her.
Assuming I didn’t kill her before the end of the night.
We ate at a swanky restaurant called Caribou, and she was her usual self with everyone who helped us—the maître d’, our server, and the manager who walked around making sure everyone was happy with their food. Yet she barely spoke to me. She ordered salmon with a small green salad, and we shared an appetizer of stuffed mushrooms and lots of awkward silence.
Were regrets setting in already?
For dessert, she selected a piece of cake with chocolate ganache and raspberry glaze, big enough to share. I wasn’t huge on sweets, but it looked delicious. I was about to dig in when she let out a small sigh.
“Celine Dion is who I listened to when I found out my parents were selling the bed-and-breakfast. She helped heal me.”
I would’ve laughed at the healing part if she didn’t seem so serious about it. One point for keeping my damn mouth shut for once. I continued slicing off a thin wedge of cake before transferring it to my plate.
“How did she do that?”
“I had no warning. Well, little warning. I came home on summer break, ready for another summer of helping everyone, and my parents sat me down in the great room and told me they had exciting news. I thought maybe we’d been featured in one of the big touristy magazines or something.” She rested her cheek on the back of her hand and dipped her fork into the puddle of glaze that had accumulated on the plate. But she didn’t eat. “They didn’t even ask me or let me down gently, or hell, even give me a chance to put some funds and resources together. It was a done deal. They were selling the bed-and-breakfast and retiring to travel, and wasn’t that so wonderful for me? I’d be truly on my own.”
“But it wasn’t wonderful. You didn’t want to be on your own.” When she didn’t reply right away, I gestured with my fork. “Eat your cake.”
She startled at my stern tone, though she complied without hesitation. No balking whatsoever. She definitely hadn’t minded my dominance in the Jacuzzi, which fascinated and intrigued me. I wouldn’t have guessed she had a submissive tendency in her body.
Surprise, surprise. There was something there. A fledgling, untried part of her she likely hadn’t had a chance to express.
I hoped to find out more about that side of her. Not now. Now we had a much thornier topic to discuss.
“No, I didn’t want to be on my own. My life had been about my family and working at the bed-and-breakfast every spare moment. I’d hoped one day to make it my own.”
That dovetailed with what Ally had told me, but it was always better when it was corroborated from the horse’s mouth.
“Did you inform your parents of that?”
Sage dragged her fork through the curls of ganache, spearing one and then delicately eating it off the tines. I was certain she wasn’t trying to be alluring. It was as natural as her innocence.
Completely intoxicating.
“I thought they knew. It wasn’t as if I’d hidden how much I loved the hospitality industry. I minored in it in school. My free time was theirs for years. I loved the work, so it wasn’t a hardship. And I was good at it too.”
“But they never asked you if you wanted to take over, and you never told them you wanted to. You also never want back to school.”
“Why should I? I’d gone to school for interior design and hospitality, and now the bed-and-breakfast was gone. Or it was going. By then, they already had prospective buyers. I didn’t have a business background to raise that kind of capital on my own,” she added, as if guessing my next question. “Besides, they didn’t think I could do it alone. Maybe they were right.”
“Do you truly believe that?”
She jerked a shoulder and set down her fork. She’d eaten a few bites after my directive, but she’d swiftly slowed down again. “I’m sure it doesn’t make sense to you. You’ve never struggled with your confidence.”
“That’s not true. But even if it were, I know I can ask for help. There are people I can turn to. Options always exist.”
Even as I said the words, they rang hollowly in my ears.
Me, ask for help? I’d never asked anyone for anything. Couldn’t. It was as if my vocal cords froze up when I made a request that required someone to do something for me out of the kindness of their hearts.
So, I commanded, and cajoled, and if that didn’t work, slyly threatened. I’d honed those skills through years in the real estate business. My father tolerated no fools and put up with no weakness, including from his sons. Especially from his sons.
“It all seemed so overwhelming, so I shut down. They offered me a small piece of the selling price for school, and I invested it.”
“You have no intention of going back to school.”
“Didn’t I just say that? Why should I? I don’t need to stage rooms in my daily life. I work in a diner. And the education in hospitality I’ve already received is more than adequate to deal with my customers.”
“You also have no intention of touching that money.”
Her defensive posture matched the flare of annoyance in her eyes. “They sold something I loved. No, I don’t want the money. I have no use for it. I do fine at the diner.”
My default reaction was to laugh. Snidely, as my father would have. In fact, the sound rumbled in my chest and her head lifted, her soft, wary gaze hardening. So I shoved it down.
I wasn’t my goddamn father, and my father wouldn’t have tolerated such rudeness toward Sage in any case. The senior Hamilton had always loved her. I’d once believed it was because her family was made up of well-to-do, salt-of-the-earth types who pleased his Puritan soul. Now, I wasn’t so sure.
It might’ve just been the magic of Sage Evans, making friends out of foes everywhere she went.
“Tell me how Celine healed you.” Not saying it sarcastically was a challenge and a half.
Jesus, being a nice person was difficult.
She sniffled. Her eyes didn’t look wet, thank God, but there was definitely emotion behind the gesture. “You don’t care.”
“Yes, I do care, or I wouldn’t have asked.”
She took another bite of cake, but she wasn’t getting nearly the pleasure from it I’d expected. I’d rather been looking forward to watching her enjoy types of cuisine she didn’t get at home. Instead, she’d been glum, and it probably had to do with my hasty dismissal of Celine—not blowing me in the hot tub.
Small favors, I supposed.
“I have trouble letting my emotions out sometimes. My dad’s a real stoic type, and my mom is so emotional that she used to make me vow not to be like her. So I stuffed down everything. Watching Titanic and listening to ‘My Heart Will Go On’ loosened the logjam.” She gestured with her free hand at her chest. “In here.”
Rather than say something I was certain would not help, I made a humming noise and forked up more cake.
“Winning this trip and tickets to see her, well, it seemed like kismet. I was fine with going alone.” She tipped back her head and glanced at the ceiling. “Fine, I was hoping to meet someone who might enjoy her too. There have to be men who are comfortable with their sensitive sides, right?”
“Sensitive sides, sure. Guys with sensitive sides who will make your eyes roll back in your head and listen voluntarily to Celine?” I shrugged. “Few and far between, princess.”
The sweet name just slipped out, as it had earlier. But all at once, a change seemed to come over her. She straightened and her eyes cleared, and she smiled in that same sexy way she had back in the hotel room for a brief instant that had made me think she’d forgotten all about the Celine nonsense.
“You know, you’re right. I’m putting far too much importance on this.” She leaned forward, and li
ke the lech I was, my gaze dipped to the plunging vee of her dress.
God, she had some rack on her. Now that I’d seen them completely bare, I was even more riveted by them.
Christ, stop acting like you just got out of prison. Eyes up. She’s speaking to you.
“I’ve never had a nickname before, except from my mom. She calls me a few things, but sweet pea is her favorite.” She smiled so shyly that my goddamn heart lurched. “I like princess.”
I shifted toward her across the table, extending my arm so I could rub my thumb over the corner of her mouth. “Missed a dab of cake, princess,” I said deliberately, drawing my thumb back to suck it into my own mouth.
She watched the movement avidly, her breath rushing out between her parted lips.
“It’s okay if you don’t like Celine. Maybe you could gamble while I’m at the show?” she asked breathlessly.
I had to smile. She was giving me an out, but she wasn’t missing a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity even if I wasn’t interested. She was so much stronger than she gave herself credit for.
So much more alluring.
“I will admit she’s not my favorite, but she’s extremely talented. If you’d like to go, we’re going.”
“We are?”
The glow on her face was worth enduring anything. Even a warbler with an annoying accent. “Absolutely.” I inclined my chin toward her plate. “If you finish your cake.”
She dug into it eagerly, and just watching her eat was a pleasure unto itself. She was so lusty in everything she did—at least when she stopped letting fear rule her.
I couldn’t wait to see her blossom even more.
Once she’d finished her cake and I’d paid the bill—after a scuffle, since she wanted to use her dining allowance from the radio station—we went outside to catch a ride to The Colosseum.
“No, never mind riding. It’s such a beautiful night. I want to walk.” Sage clasped my hand, lacing her fingers with mine as she gazed up at me. “Okay?”
Saying no to her was going to become a problem, I could already tell.
