by Poppy Dunne
“Yes,” she gasps, and I lean down to silence her with a kiss. My breathing ragged, I all but rip the clothes off her body. Her jacket and shirt fall away in mere seconds. She tugs at my belt again, but I take her hands and pin them over her head before kissing her hard. My blood’s up, the psychological fuckery of the day boiling over. The way she tastes sends me out of control; she’s my drug, like I said. My addiction. But she doesn’t sap my strength. She only makes me better.
And I’m not going to deny myself what I need one more goddamn second.
“I’m going to see you completely naked first,” I whisper in her ear. Straddling her hips, I lift her up by her shoulders to unclasp her bra and toss the damn thing away. The window’s unshuttered, and the moonlight glows on her pale skin, turning it a luminescent white. She breathes quickly as she helps me undo her jeans, pull down her panties. There she is, bare and waiting for me. Tessa moans as my hands glide up the contours of her legs, as they sweep the silk of her thighs. She arches her body as my mouth blazes across the soft skin of her stomach to the mounds of her breasts. Her nipple peaks beneath my lips. I cup my hand around the underside of her breast and squeeze. A soft moan emanates from her as I lick her nipple and bite down lightly. Tessa whimpers as I reach between her parted thighs, as my fingers slide inside of her. My cock will follow soon, an idea that almost drives me over the edge. She’s wet again, ready for me.
I unbutton my shirt while her trembling fingers play with my belt. In seconds, I’m naked as well. When my erection springs free, Tessa goes up on her elbows, regarding it with her jaw open in shock. Fuck if that expression doesn’t get me even harder.
“Not what you were expecting?” I clench my jaw and groan as she cups me, strokes my shaft. Fuck, her hands are soft, her body ready. I need to fuck this woman.
“It’s even bigger.” The ragged honesty in her voice would make me laugh if I weren’t so goddamn determined. Sliding open my bedside drawer, I take out a condom and rip the foil. Tessa leans back on the bed, her golden hair fanned across the pillow. Her breath is shaky, and her full breasts quiver in anticipation. I roll the condom on, then surge down onto the bed to join her. I kiss her, taste her, all while drawing the tip of my cock up and down the wet seam of her pussy. She bucks her hips, wanting to take all of me in, but I stop her. Tracing the line of her pulse with my tongue, I torture her with the sensation. She moans and arches against me when I nearly sink into her, but stop. I rub high up against her clit, loving the sound of her gasping and pleading beneath me.
“Rafe. Fuck me. Please,” she breathes. I kiss and nip at her neck, luxuriating in the feeling of her silken legs wrapping around my waist, her hands pressed into my back. I stop for one second and look down at her, stare into her eyes. Her pupils are dilated with want. I kiss her hard as I slide, harder, inside of her all the way to the hilt.
“Oh!” She spasms beneath me, the sound she makes pitched somewhere between rapture and pain. Fuck. I freeze, panting hard.
“Did I hurt you?” I can feel she’s not a virgin, but she’s tight. She responds by pulling me back against her, nuzzling into my neck.
“It’s been a long time.” She laughs weakly. “Four years.”
How the hell has she survived? But then again, there’s a part of me that takes animalistic pride in the fact that she’s waited so long. Waited for me.
Already, I can feel her loosening and easing my passage. Through the haze of sex and desire, I realize I’m finally inside of Tessa Snowe. She’s soft and yielding beneath me, her pussy wrapped tight around my cock. It’s the culmination of years of desperate wanting, and somehow it’s better than I thought it would be.
“Ride me hard,” she gasps in my ear before taking my lobe delicately between her teeth.
And I do.
I thrust inside of her, feeling her body mold itself around mine. She holds me tight. Teeth bared, I angle myself properly and thrust even deeper, fucking and filling her to the core. As I ride her, Tessa digs her nails into my back. She throws back her head, her eyes shutting with pleasure. Her tits bounce as I raise myself onto my elbows and pick up the pace, the wet slap of our bodies in symphony with the creak of the bed beneath us.
She moans as I crush her against me, as I claim her mouth while I claim her body. Her legs wrap higher around my waist, her pussy squeezing me, trying to keep me buried inside. Opening her eyes, she looks down the length of her body to where we’re joined. She watches me slide in and out, watches me fuck her. Her forehead creases; the sight of it seems to turn her on even more.
Good.
“You’re mine.” I breathe the words against the hollow of her throat. My lips track down to the swell of her breast, tasting her sweat on the way. “Say it.”
“I’m yours,” she responds at once, her voice pitched higher as her orgasm builds. I can feel her detonating beneath me, her pussy clamping down. “Oh, Rafe. Fuck.”
It doesn’t matter what Scott’s planning. It doesn’t matter what may happen if he finds out. Right now, all that matters is making this woman come harder than she’s ever done in her life. I take her breast in my mouth, listening to her ecstatic moans. They fill me, and I can feel the white-hot pressure building behind my eyes. My hips jerk faster, my cock plunging in and out of her in time to her gasps. I’m so fucking close.
“Tessa.” I watch her as her mouth opens, as her eyes shut tight, as she throws back her head and reveals the white expanse of her throat. “Come for me. Call my name.”
“Rafe. Rafe, please.” She begs and thrashes beneath me as her voice rises higher. She whimpers as her climax builds. “It’s so good. Rafe. Oh, God.”
She shudders as she comes, her body lifting off the mattress. She drags her nails down my shoulders, and I luxuriate in the sudden sting. As she unspools beneath me, the world erupts into a flash of white as I come. I bury my face into her shoulder, roaring as I pour myself out inside her. There’s a moment where I forget my own name and where I am, everything except the slick feel of her naked body beneath mine. Tessa mewls, actually mewls, as she fits her cheek against the slope of my neck. My lips and then my teeth graze her shoulder as I come down from the orgasm.
She holds me against her, and I feel her heart slow beneath me. I shift and slide out of her, kissing her once, twice more. I roll to my side and chuck the condom in the wastebasket, and then I roll onto my back, pulling her against my body. She traces the tip of her finger in circles along my chest while moonlight skates across the ceiling in abstract patterns.
“So.” She stills her hand. She sounds breathy with nerves.
“So.” I kiss the top of her head, my hand trailing down her sweat-slicked back to cup the plentiful curve of her ass. Somehow, even after the greatest orgasm of my life, my cock stirs again at the mere sensation of her body. “I would’ve waited another five years for this.”
I feel her smile against my skin. “Really?”
“But I’m awful fucking glad I didn’t have to.” I fist her hair and draw her mouth up to mine again, our tongues rotating as we taste each other. Her hand glides down to rest on my still-stirring cock. Fuck.
“Will there be anything else, sir?” She giggles as I become hard again under her touch, then squeals when I grab her by the hips and swing her up to straddle my body. My hands ghost up her stomach to cup her breasts again. They fill my hands perfectly, and Tessa gazes down at me from amid the tumult of her hair. Her lips are parted, her face flushed. She’s the picture of eroticism. Her eyes flutter closed as I trace her nipples with my thumbs, then squeeze.
“There will be much more, Ms. Snowe.” I pull her against me to nip at her neck, feeling her hips jerk against mine. “I’d better be satisfied by the end.”
I am.
Twelve
Tessa
When I wake up, I find myself tangled in cool linen sheets with a very warm, very male presence spooning me from behind. Morning sunlight peeks through the window, stretching itself across the wooden floor. My b
ody is sore in the most wonderful places. Even though my muscles protest as I stretch, they do so in a fun way. It’s like my calves and inner thighs are grinning and flashing me a thumbs up.
It’s weird to imagine your muscles smiling, by the way. Don’t recommend it.
Rafe stirs behind me, his rock solid arm creeping around to pull me closer against him. I let myself go, luxuriating in his warmth and the scent of his skin. His breath is hot on my shoulder as I feel him rouse himself from sleep. I bite my lip, grinning, when his fingers skate down my stomach all the way to—
Right there.
“This’d better not be a dream.” I feel the curve of his smile against my bare shoulder. “I’m enjoying it way more than the recurring one I had years back.”
“What was that one about?” I gasp as his finger circles expertly around that high, lovely little spot between my thighs. With a whimper, I bite my lip. My body moves with his hand, and that warm, heavy pressure starts building in my pelvis.
“A lot of Call of Duty with some tap-dancing flamingos.”
Somehow, that doesn’t turn me off. My God, I’m actually on the threshold of another orgasm as his finger plunges inside of me. Rafe’s breath fans hot on the back of my neck as he strokes and circles me. His teeth graze my shoulder; my skin is so wonderfully sensitive to his touch that that alone makes me want to come. My rapid breathing makes him chuckle. “I could listen to this every morning. In fact.” He inserts his finger fully into me and palms my clit. The world around me brightens and shimmers. “I think I will.”
I come undone, shuddering and panting as my climax rolls through me. Rafe hums his approval, kissing the back of my neck. As I descend from the high, I turn on my side to face him. He’s tousled-looking this morning, his black hair wild and unkempt from the three wonderfully athletic bouts of sex the night before. I kiss him, reveling in the rasp of his stubble against my skin. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me close against his still naked, still phenomenal body.
“Good morning,” he murmurs, his voice rough and low with sex.
“Morning.” I could lie here staring at him the entire day, but that likely wouldn’t be productive. Thank God it’s Saturday, at least. That gives us a few lazy hours to talk, touch, taste…you know, all the T’s. I’d add breakfast in there, but unfortunately it breaks the alliterative pattern.
Man, I am wacky after good sex. I think I can learn to love that.
Rafe kisses me, and I moan against his mouth. He slides his hands down my back and cups my ass. Apparently he’s more than ready for another go, if the throbbing erection building against my stomach is any indication. But there’s something we have to deal with first. Breaking the kiss—much as I hate to—I place my hands on his (rock hard, exquisite) chest. His heart thrums beneath my fingers.
“What do we do with the drive now?” I ask.
He slides a hand through his hair. “Right. Scott needs his ass handed to him.”
“Do we go to the newspapers with something like this? You know, start a scandal?” I’m wading out of my depth here, wading so far out the water’s up to my chin and the sharks are swimming around me. Sharks with Brad and Scott’s faces—shudder inducing. Seriously, though, what are we supposed to do? How do rich, powerful people take each other down? On Twitter? Through LinkedIn? I’m a mess. “Maybe hire a town crier to wander through the city ringing a bell and shouting ‘Shame on Scott McCarthy’?”
Rafe laughs, the sound a sensuous whisper on my neck. Fuck, my nipples are already peaked and ready for his attention.
“The town crier has an old-school charm to it.” He shakes his head. “We need to be prepared for Scott to retaliate. He’ll have the best legal team at his disposal to blow us out of the water. I’ve met his attorneys. Their firm’s more of a legal armada, really.” He trails his thumb along my jaw, tracks it down my neck and along my pulse. When his hand cups my breast, I sigh in contentment. We can talk legal strategy all day if he’ll just keep touching me like this. “We need to get someone we can trust who’s on the inside of the system. Someone who knows the legal ins and outs of—” Instantly, his expression clears. “Why the hell didn’t I think of it before?”
“We have the perfect person to help?” I hoist myself up on an elbow to gaze down at him, to drink in the utter, ceaseless perfection of his face and body. How did I end up in bed with such an Adonis? More importantly, how did he end up looking so damned pleased about it? It’s like Rafe McCarthy has wanted me as desperately as I’ve wanted him.
I will never complain about anything again in my life. Except the wait time for the Astoria-bound N train at rush hour. And the fact that cupcakes have calories. And the ending of Infinity War when Peter Parker cried, because how very dare?
Apart from all that, nada.
“I’ll get in touch with him,” Rafe says. “He’s in Connecticut for the weekend, but this can wait until Monday.” With that, his hand glides down my naked form. Rafe nibbles at my jaw, squeezing my breast as he does. “This, on the other hand, can’t wait one more second.”
I practically purr as he rolls me onto my back, covering my body with his. It’s been so long since I’ve had a man on top of me, and even longer since I’ve wanted anyone this much.
Come to think of it, I’ve never wanted anyone this much.
And think to come of it, or something, because Rafe’s started another sensuous assault on my body. I bite my lip and moan as he lavishes attention on my breasts. Kissing, sucking, biting, he moves steadily downward. His breath is a hot kiss on the sensitive skin of my stomach.
My fingers twine through his dark, tousled hair. “Think this’ll complicate our working relationship?” I ask breathlessly.
“No, but I foresee working from home a lot more in the future.” He gazes up at me, his eyes heated and wicked.
“I’ll update the schedule.” Grinning, I pull myself away from him, sliding to sit up. Rafe has the disoriented look of a man who’s had his favorite meal snatched away, until I explain. “I’d like to clean up first. That shower looks like it fits two.”
His grin is scintillating. “It does. Actually, it can fit three adults and two brass section instruments.”
“Do I want to know how you know that?”
“You really don’t.”
Giggling, I let him lift me into his arms and carry me away.
“Why do you look so happy?” Becca and I sit on a bench in Central Park, bundled up in our parkas and blowing on fresh cups of hot chocolate. To my right side, Gramps sits pleasantly and stares at a spot on the ground. He’s finished his cocoa already, and is in a good mood. That makes our family outing all the easier. “Also, why is your hair damp? It’s freezing out here!”
“Er, it’s fine.” I pat at my hair, which has definitely developed a thin layer of ice by now. Whoops. “My hair dryer’s busted?” I actually make it a question. I have no chill whatsoever, (Ha! Chill! Because winter! I’m hilarious) and no ability to lie. Becca sips her chocolate and serves me an expert side-eye.
“You haven’t been doing anything naughty, have you?”
“Who? Me?” Little ol’ me, naughty? For shame! I did not have the greatest shower sex of my life right before racing to make it here on time because I was a horny idiot who stupidly forgot about family day! I definitely did not squeal and nearly slip on the tile floor as I tried to get to my clothes while Rafe was still coming down from our mutual orgasm, and I most certainly and absolutely did not make out with his gorgeous face for an extra five minutes before rushing out the door!
All that’s, thankfully, in my head. I’m not half the actor Rafe is.
“Becks, you know I have no time for anything scandalous right now.”
“Don’t walk outside without a coat, Gracie. It’s dangerous,” Gramps helpfully adds. I give his hand a squeeze.
“Well, you’re right.” Damn, it’s kind of insulting how fast she agrees with me. We sit on the bench and watch Gabriel toddling around among a bunch
of other rosy-cheeked children. The little ones are giddily chasing each other through the trees, or else plopping backwards into the snow to make tiny baby snow angels. Ow, my ovaries.
That just makes me wonder what kind of babies Rafe would make, and that is liable to set me panting all Pavlov’s dog style. I’d better change the mental image.
“So what do you want to do today?” I ask. We call our Saturday get togethers Snowe Days because we’re clever like that. It’s weird having Snowe Days in July, though. It gets us a lot of blank looks from waiters, but we’re used to that by now. “We can see if Gabriel will sit through Black Panther a ninth time.” Gramps, at least, is good at going to the same movie multiple times. He never remembers he’s seen it before, and the colors keep him occupied for a few hours.
Becca doesn’t answer me. At first I chalk that up to her imagining Erik Killmonger’s glorious shirtlessness, but then I hear her sniffle. The sniffle is followed by a muffled whimper as Becca dips her nose into her scarf to mask the tears.
My sister does not cry. She yells, dances, curses, screams, and sings an off-tune “Oh Darlin’” after she has a few rum and Cokes in her. But crying? That’s always been my department.
Until right now, that is. I watch, shocked, as the tears well in her eyes and slide down her cheeks. They frost over a little bit—crying outside in winter is a dicey prospect. She wipes her cheeks, and I fumble for a tissue. Be prepared. My second-favorite Disney song, and my motto. My first favorite Disney song is “I’ll Make A Man Out of You” from Mulan, but I don’t think she needs the high energy chorus right now.
“I’m a bad sister,” Becca hiccups, blowing her nose. She makes an adorable honking sound, like a mournful goose.
“Hate to disagree with you, O Best Sister. What’s going on right now?” I bundle my arm around her and squeeze. Becca leans her head on my shoulder. This is definitely the benefit to being the physically larger sister: I provide excellent cushioning. I am the love seat for all family dysfunction. “You can tell me anything. What, did you sell me to a black market organ harvester?”
