Her backside squirmed shamelessly against his hips, and she reached back and gripped his thighs with her fingers. “Touch me . . . between my legs.”
“Take my hand and show me where,” he demanded.
She didn’t hesitate to push the arm around her waist down toward her mound, then guided his long fingers through the swollen lips of her sex, where she was hot and slick and so fucking wet he had to swallow back a groan.
He stroked her drenched pussy and sank his teeth lightly into the side of her neck, smiling as she jerked back against him. “This for me, baby?”
“All for you,” she confirmed with a delirious nod of her head. “Sucking you off made my pussy weep for you. Made me so worked up and needy . . . ”
She sounded so breathless and desperate, and wanting to soothe her ache, Wes turned her around and backed her up a few steps, until the support of the wall held her upright. Her eyes were glassy, aroused, and when he pushed two fingers deep inside of her and pressed his thumb against her clit, she didn’t hesitate to chase after what her body craved.
Closing her eyes, she grabbed his upper arms and undulated her hips, pushing them against the firm pressure he was applying between her legs, where he was rubbing against that hard nub at the hood of her sex. Her breasts swayed as she rocked her body, her nipples hard and tight. Then a soft little sob of frustration broke from her lips, as if she couldn’t quite grasp what she needed so badly.
He wedged a knee between her legs, widening them to give him more room to pleasure her. “Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured, doubling his efforts to get her off. “Ride my hand. Fuck my fingers. You’re almost there.”
She shook her head frantically, and then she opened her beautiful eyes and looked at him with such unabashed desire and longing, unlike anything that had ever been directed at him before. If that wasn’t enough to shake him up, then she completely slayed him with her next words.
“No . . . I need you,” she said softly, adamantly. “Fuck me, Wes. I need it as hard and deep as you can go. Only you . . . ”
Jesus, she looked so exposed emotionally, so vulnerable. And he wanted to give her everything she wanted, everything she needed . . . except physical pleasure was all he had to offer.
“Where should I fuck you, baby?” he asked huskily. “Should I bend you over the end of the couch? Or push you to your hands and knees and take you on the floor? Or how about right here, up against the wall?”
She whimpered anxiously. “Anywhere. Just do it. Now. Please.”
And that’s exactly what he did. He hooked one of her thighs as high as it could go on his hip, and wanting as much leverage as he could get to fill her up so she’d never be able to tell where he ended and she began, he issued his next order. “Wrap your legs tight around my waist and lock your ankles behind my back,” he said gruffly, and she obeyed, climbing him like a proverbial tree. The grip of her thighs was strong and tight, as was the way she locked her hands around his neck.
Holding her bottom in his hands, he angled her hips, lined up his cock to her entrance, and with one hard thrust, he was balls deep inside her slick heat and had her shoulders pinned to the wall. If he’d had his choice, he would have made this a slow, hard fuck. But she was already struggling to move on his dick, trying to rock his shaft into her deeper, if that was even possible.
The wet heat of her pussy, the unrelenting friction of her body clenching around his dissolved any semblance of control he had left and gave him no choice but to move, to instinctively pump into her, again and again. She sank her teeth into the side of his neck, sending a jolt of lust straight down to his cock, and fuck, he knew he was only a few short strokes away from exploding inside her.
“So . . . damn . . . close.” His lips parted on a quick intake of breath as she started to claw at his back with her nails, the stinging sensation adding to the fire in his belly, the rhythmic pulsing in his dick. “I want to feel you come all over my cock. Need it so fucking bad.” The words came out of his mouth, uncensored, revealing more than he’d ever intended.
“Yes . . . I want that, too,” she panted frantically. “So much.”
And then she chanted in his ear, “Harder, faster, deeper,” and he fulfilled her demands, shoving her tight against the wall and pinning her there as he surged against her, burying himself to the hilt over and over and making her feel everything. The intense heat. The infinite desire. The overwhelming need.
She moaned his name as he felt the fluttering of her muscles squeeze around his dick, the rippling sensation of her impending orgasm pulling at him like an undertow. He lifted his head, watching as she gave herself over to her climax, to him, so wild and gorgeous, so strong and confident and passionate, and holding nothing back as she rode his cock straight into ecstasy.
Her open, uninhibited response was the most stunning, beautiful sight he’d ever seen.
Another hard, deep thrust and he was right behind her, the pleasure so intense, so intimate and pure it forced him to acknowledge the truth. That no one had ever made him feel like this . . . this completeness, this connection, this reality.
No one . . . until Natalie.
* * *
A few weeks ago, if someone would have told Natalie that she’d have hot, mind-altering, out-of-this-world sex with Wes Sinclair, her archenemy since childhood, then would be sitting on her living room sofa eating a grilled cheese sandwich with him afterward, she would have died laughing at the absurdity of such a suggestion.
Yet here they were, sitting side by side—him sprawled out wearing just his jeans and her cross-legged in a tank top and pajama shorts—the two of them indulging in a late-night snack together after an amazing round of up-against-the-wall sex and an orgasm that had nearly left her comatose. Not that she was complaining, she thought, as a warm flush suffused her cheeks.
“Are you blushing?” Wes asked playfully, his gaze fixed on her face.
“No,” she denied much too quickly, and returned her attention to the second half of her grilled cheese sandwich.
“I think you are,” he persisted as he finished off the last of his own sandwich before adding insult to injury. “Who knew that little Natalie Prescott could talk so dirty?”
Clearly, she wasn’t a prude, but there was something about Wes that tapped into a part of her she’d never known existed, until sex with him had unleashed a floodgate of indecent behavior. Spankings, sucking him off in his car on the drive home, begging him to fuck her . . .
She felt her skin heat even more when she realized the things that had come out of her mouth less than a half an hour ago. “You’re a horrible influence. You seem to bring out the bad girl in me.”
“I like it,” he said, his low, husky voice equivalent to an intimate caress. “Am I the only one who’s gotten to play with your inner bad girl?”
She ate her last bite of grilled cheese, which gave her a few extra seconds to consider her answer. “Yes, but don’t let it go to your big, fat head.”
He laughed and looked way too smug anyway. No big shock there.
“Mitch wasn’t the dirty-talking type?” he asked curiously as he relaxed more fully into the corner of the couch.
She couldn’t believe they were having this conversation about her ex, but Wes looked genuinely interested, and honestly, what did it matter if she discussed the less-than-exciting sex life she’d had with Mitch now that they were no longer together?
“No, he was strictly vanilla. I’m sure if I ever asked him to fuck me, he would have been scandalized and would have kicked me out of his bed.” When she realized what she’d just said, she gave Wes a wry smile. “Oh, wait, he did do that.”
Wes didn’t even crack a smile at her attempt at a joke. Instead, his gaze was serious and compassionate as it held hers. “You were obviously way too much for him to handle.”
She frowned, her stomach pitching with insecurities and doubts. “Am I that much of a pain in the ass that he’d have an affair with another woman?” Had she been t
oo ambitious, too driven, too focused on work as Mitch had accused her of being? Too high maintenance?
“Natalie, that’s not what I meant,” he said quickly, and when she continued to stare at him quietly, desperate for an explanation, he gave her one. “I told you I never liked the guy, that I thought you were too good for him, and it’s true. From what I saw, he was uptight, insecure, and so fucking needy, and you were always trying to please him. And because there is just no pleasing a self-centered guy like that, no matter what you do or how much time you spend with him, you always seemed stressed out.”
“I was,” she admitted as she drew her legs up onto the couch. “The balance between work and our relationship was exhausting. And frustrating.”
He stretched his arm across the back of the sofa, his fingers playing with her hair. “If any guy can’t handle the fact that you’re a strong, intelligent, career-minded woman, then he’s a fucking pussy and you’re better off without him.”
The corner of her mouth twitched with a smile. It felt good to hear someone else validate her emotions when a part of her had wondered if she’d been to blame.
“I just never expected to be cheated on,” she said, hating that part the most. The heartbreaking betrayal and feeling like a fool. “Why not just break up with me and date someone else? We talked about getting married and having a family, and if he didn’t want that with me, or I made him so unhappy, then why stay and be miserable?”
Wes let out a caustic laugh. “Wish I knew the answer to that. Believe me, I used to wonder the same thing about my father. If he was that unhappy, why didn’t he just divorce my mother? Instead, he got caught in a lie, and when the truth came out about the affair, he blamed my mother . . . for not being there for him. For not giving him what he needed. Everything was all her fault, even though he was the one who’d fucked around.”
She heard the bitterness in Wes’s voice, and her heart ached for him. He’d been young when his parents had split, but he’d been good friends with Connor by then, and Natalie remembered how hard the breakup had been on him. But this was the first time he’d ever talked about it, and he obviously needed to release a lot of pent-up anger over what had happened and how it had affected him.
“If it wasn’t bad enough that my father had torn my mother down emotionally, he dragged her through a nasty divorce, gave her a shitty settlement, and turned his entire family and their friends against her so she had no one to turn to.” His jaw clenched tight, and his brows furrowed with contempt. “Of course, the asshole gave my mother minimal child support and thought that would make up for the fact that he was a shit father who turned his back on his son, as well.”
Seeing the real, tangible anguish on Wes’s face, she knew without a doubt that this was his reason for avoiding serious relationships. For him, he’d seen and been through the worst of them. “It’s not always that way.”
He stared at her in disbelief. “You can honestly say that after what you went through with Mitch? What he did to you?”
God, Wes was so cynical, but she knew that everyone handled their emotions differently. That everyone had their own reasons for making the choices they did. And just because Wes had sworn off committed relationships because of his father’s actions and the pain they had caused, it didn’t mean that Natalie felt the same. She definitely hated what she’d lost with Mitch—the possibility of marriage and a family. But she didn’t hate that she’d lost him. No, him getting caught with another woman had been a blessing in disguise. Natalie was no longer stifled by Mitch’s demands and expectations or feeling torn over having a career she loved.
And just because a relationship with Mitch hadn’t worked out, it didn’t mean she was going to let that particular heartbreak taint her belief in love and happily-ever-after. Her parents were proof that marriages worked, that two people could argue, fight, and compromise and still be true to the other. Out of love, mutual respect, and trust.
But she didn’t expect Wes to understand or even accept her reasons when they had such different views. And the only thing she could do was make light of the situation, to bring in humor and sexy times to diffuse the heated conversation and alleviate his defensive mood.
Crawling over the one couch cushion separating them, she straddled his lap, drawing his attention to the fact that she wasn’t wearing a bra and her nipples were already tight and hard against the thin cotton fabric. Distracting him further, she skimmed her fingers across his chest, down his deliciously firm abs, and followed that light trail of hair that disappeared into the waistband of his jeans.
“Haven’t you heard that saying that sometimes you have to kiss a lot of frogs before you find your prince?” She asked the question playfully, but it was also the best answer she could give him as to why she hadn’t given up on finding a man who’d also, eventually, become her lifelong partner.
It took him a few extra seconds, but he finally, reluctantly lifted his gaze from her breasts and quirked an eyebrow at her. “Are you calling me a fucking frog?” he asked incredulously.
She laughed, because she could see the humor glimmering in the depths of his gaze, and that’s exactly what she’d been aiming for. “Frog . . . toad.” She shrugged as she unsnapped the button to his jeans. “Whichever you prefer.”
He secured his hands tight around her waist and tipped her back so she was lying on the sofa. Quickly, he reversed their positions so that he was the one straddling her hips. “First, I’m your transition guy,” he grumbled as he shoved the hem of her tank top all the way up to her chin, exposing her bare breasts to his hot gaze. “And now I’m a goddamn frog?”
His tone was teasing, but what she wouldn’t do for him to be that prince who swept her away. He possessed all the qualities needed—the honesty, the integrity. He was protective and even sensitive, though she knew he’d never admit it. But despite all that, he wasn’t on the market, and he never would be. If she’d had any doubts whatsoever about his availability—and, of course, she hadn’t—he’d made his views on relationships and marriage and the reasons behind them crystal clear tonight.
There was no use pining over something she couldn’t have or change, so she took what she could, which was enjoying their frenemies-with-benefits arrangement.
“Frogs aren’t all that bad,” she told him as he fondled her breasts and plucked at her sensitive nipples while she slid her hands up his jean-clad thighs to the noticeable bulge in his pants.
He didn’t look convinced. “How so?”
“They have very long, agile tongues,” she said, having intimate knowledge of just how exceptionally well Wes knew how to use his. “And really, in the scheme of things, that’s all that matters.”
“I couldn’t agree with you more.” He flashed her a wicked grin as he lowered his head toward her breasts. “In fact, I’m gonna show you just how agile this tongue can be.”
And over the course of the next hour, much to her pleasure and delight, he did just that.
Chapter Thirteen
“I have to say, getting laid on a regular basis has improved your mood immensely.”
“What?” Natalie didn’t know whether to laugh or glare at Richard, who was seated across from her at the cafe where they were having lunch together. “How has my mood improved? And I didn’t realize my mood was an issue before getting laid on a regular basis.”
He chuckled as he cut into his grilled halibut. “A week and a half of doing the dirty with Mr. Big Shot, and you’re so much more relaxed and calm. You’re not as stressed or on edge, or neurotic about being busy twenty-four seven and chasing after clients and building your little empire. In fact, I’d go so far as to say that you’ve become quite flexible, and I don’t mean in just a physical way,” he added with a cheeky wink.
Natalie experienced a moment of panic as his words sank in, the cobb salad on her plate suddenly forgotten as her mind did a quick, screeching rewind. Yes, it had been ten days since she’d lost the bet to Wes. Ten days of making her jump through hoo
ps to “pay up” on her lost wager as agreed—because let’s face it, Wes wasn’t going to let her off easy, even if she was putting out for him—but rewarding her in the hottest, most satisfying ways each and every time. But had she gotten so caught up in Wes that she’d gotten soft and her career had begun to suffer?
That dismay expanded in her chest. She’d had a few impressive sales since their bet, but what if she wasn’t doing all she could to build her client base because she was distracted by sex on the brain? What if she was slipping and her focus had shifted to something, or rather, someone, at the cost of not accumulating more listings than she already had? What if she was falling for Wes, an unattainable man, at the expense of working toward her goal of being a well-respected broker? And what if . . .
“Jesus, Natalie,” Richard said, yanking her out of her frantic thoughts. “Calm down. You’re on the verge of hyperventilating.”
Yes, her heart was racing, and she was breathing as though she’d just finished a marathon. “Can you blame me? You just told me that I’m calm and relaxed and not pursuing clients twenty-four seven, which means I’m not working like I should. That I’m missing opportunities. And flexible? What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Richard rolled his eyes, pegging her as the drama queen she clearly was being. “Calm and relaxed, meaning you’re finally enjoying life outside of work. And flexible, meaning you’re not so uptight and rigid about your schedule.”
She still didn’t get it. “And why is that a good thing?” she asked, her voice pitching higher than normal.
Richard reached across the small table and placed his hand over hers and waited for her to look him in the eyes. “Because you’re finding a balance with Wes and making work and play mesh on a daily basis. Instead of all work and no play.”
She shook her head in denial. “There shouldn’t be a ‘balance’ with Wes.” Her job, her career, needed to be a priority right now. “He’s my transition guy, remember?”
The Book Boyfriend Series Box Set Page 12
