“You did not volunteer to to pose as her fake boyfriend!” His smirk fell from his face. Mikey could be the world’s biggest clown, but he always had my back when things turned serious. He knew I was in deep.
I nodded slowly. “I did.”
“And the problem is you want to be her real boyfriend,” he said, summing the situation up perfectly.
I nodded again.
“So what’s the problem? Tell her how you feel.”
“Her divorce isn’t final yet,” I explained. “Her ex is too busy playing mind games to sign the damn papers.”
“Ah,” he mused knowingly. His parents’ divorce during our senior year of high school had been notoriously difficult. “That complicates things.”
I blew out a weary breath. “Yeah. It does.”
20
Preston
I promised Mikey I’d meet up with him in a couple of days to figure out a plan of attack around the Lindholm project, then climbed back into my truck and stared down at my abandoned text conversation with Rosalie. I shook my head to clear my thoughts, plugged my phone into its charger, and headed out of the parking lot.
Stopped at a red light not long after, I spied an oversized poster affixed to a telephone pole advertising a star walk. It was hosted by a somewhat local astronomy club, and scheduled for later that night.
I reached for my phone and quickly pulled up the weather app, satisfied when I saw that it was supposed to be a nice night. Well, somewhat temperate for Vermont in November, at any rate. At least the skies would be clear. I snapped a picture of the ad to capture its details just as the car behind me honked to alert me the light had turned green. I stepped on the gas.
When I was almost home, I pulled over to the side of the road and brought up the picture I’d taken back in town. Typing the astronomy club’s name into a new browser window, I located its phone number. Pressing my thumb to the screen, I waited for my call to connect. Five minutes later, I’d secured the last two available tickets. Now all I had to do was make sure that Rosalie was up for it.
Driving down the long bumpy lane that led to our houses, I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw Gloria’s car wasn’t parked out front. I wasn’t sure I had it in me to go a second round with her so soon after the first. How I’d thought a few staged “romantic” dinners at home would be enough to appease her, I’d never know. Clearly, I’d severely underestimated her desire to see Rosalie with a man she approved of.
Jumping down out of the truck’s cab, I walked over to the farmhouse instead of heading directly home. I needed to shower and change my clothes, but I wanted to make sure Rosalie was willing to brave the cold for the sake of keeping up appearances.
I knocked on the door, my heart racing. My conversation with Mikey had put things in perspective in a way they hadn’t been before. For weeks, I’d been kidding myself about how I really felt about this woman, and now that I’d admitted the truth to both myself and my best friend, I wasn’t sure I could keep the realization that I wanted more than a fake relationship with her from showing on my face.
She pulled open the door and leaned against the jamb. “Hey,” she breathed.
I shoved my hands into my pockets and rocked back on my heels. “Hey, yourself. Sorry for going MIA earlier. I ran into Mikey at the Busy Bean and then spilled coffee all over myself.” I made sure not to glance down at the damp spot on my jeans lest I pull her gaze from my face to my crotchal region.
“Oh, that’s good. I mean, it’s not good that you spilled your coffee. Obviously,” she tittered nervously. “I just meant that it was good I hadn’t scared you off. I kind of wondered after everything that’s happened, you know?” She twisted her fingers into knots at her waist. “And there I go saying things I shouldn’t say again.”
I swallowed down the instinct to say something I shouldn’t. “It’s okay. I know what you meant. And no, you didn’t scare me off.”
Her shoulders slumped in noticeable relief. “It’s just been a really long time since I felt like I could be totally honest with someone. You make me feel … safe, I guess.”
I forced Mikey’s parting words of caution down deep where I hoped they stayed buried. I was taking a considerable risk here, but I was in way too deep to pull back now. Despite everything, I felt safe with Rosalie, too. I could be myself in a way my previous relationships had never allowed me to be. For starters, I didn’t worry about being judged and found lacking. And I knew Rosalie liked me for me, not for my last name or the money attached to it.
“I’m happy to hear you say that,” I told her slowly, measuring my words. Fuck it, I thought. It’s now or never. “In the spirit of full disclosure, though, you should know it makes me feel things I shouldn’t be feeling.”
She licked her lips. “What kinds of things?”
“Caveman things,” I admitted, stepping closer to brush a lock of hair from her shoulder, rubbing a few strands between my fingertips like a bolt of fine silk.
“Preston,” she breathed, looking up at me with pupils that had blown black. She rolled her bottom lip between her teeth and glanced up at me expectantly.
“Invite me in, Rosie.”
“Only if you promise to kiss me if I do,” she whispered, tentatively setting her palm flat against my chest. I was sure she could feel my heart thundering against her hand.
“I promise to do far more than that,” I said, pressing forward into her touch, the reason I’d originally stopped by all but forgotten.
Her gaze locked with mine. “Are we really doing this?”
“Only if you want to.”
She took one step backward and then another, until she stood in the middle of the foyer. “I want to. I want to so damn badly you can’t even know.”
I followed her inside, slamming the door behind me, and stalked toward her. “Oh, I think I have some idea.” Reaching her, I wrapped my hand around the nape of her neck and tugged her toward me. Not that it took much for her to fall into my arms; she was a more than willing participant.
Tunneling my hands into her hair, I angled her head just where I needed it and dropped my face forward as she pushed up onto her toes to meet me. When our lips came together, she sighed into my mouth. I licked my way inside, my tongue snaking against hers as I tasted her for the first time. She was so sweet, like bergamot and brown sugar, and I wanted more.
My hands skated down her body, cupping her ass, and I flexed my hips so there’d be zero doubt in her mind how crazy she drove me. How badly I wanted this. How much I needed her after the preview on her couch the other night.
She wound her hands tighter around my neck, dropped her head back, and let out the sexiest little whimper I’d ever heard.
With that one sound, I was a goner. I groaned, kissing a path down her jaw to her neck. “I want you.” I nipped at the skin just below her earlobe, and she sighed with longing.
“Oh god, Preston. I want you, too. So much.” She sprang up and into my arms, and her legs came up to wrap tightly around my waist. She rolled her hips against the hard bulge in my jeans, causing my eyes to practically roll back inside my head.
“Do that again,” I said, my voice coming out hoarse and scratchy.
She chuckled, the sound low and seductive, and pressed into me.
I took her mouth in a frenzied kiss as I spun us around to press her back up against the front door. “Let me touch you.”
“Please,” she whimpered. “Touch me.” Her eyes locked on mine as I slid my hand down into her leggings and beneath the soft cotton of her underwear to find a small, soft thatch of hair covering her mound. Slowly, her legs dropped from around my middle, and her feet slid down to brace herself against the hardwood floor.
“Don’t ever stop touching me,” she whispered when my thumb parted her folds to press against her plump little clit. Her eyes fell closed, and she dropped her head back against the door as I circled it, soft at first and then more insistently as her breathing turned ragged and her hips bucked against my
hand with abandon.
“You’re so fucking beautiful right now,” I told her, watching a flush move up her neck to heat her cheeks. She bit her lip as my hand slipped lower, gliding through her arousal. I crooked my middle finger into her slick channel, gently pressing the heel of my palm against her clit so she could ride me. When I added a second finger, she sucked in a breath and then let out a mewling sound that I’d replay in my dreams later tonight.
“I’m so close,” she moaned when I increased the pace. “Harder.”
“Like this?” I moved my fingers faster, pushing in and out of her as quickly as I could while my range of motion was impeded by her clothing.
“Yes. Just like that.” She bucked against me. “Oh my god. Oh god. Yes. Oh god, I’m coming …” She slammed her hands flat against the door on either side of her hips and pushed up onto the tips of her toes as her pussy convulsed around my fingers, her whole body vibrating with the power of her release. Slick moisture coated my hand as I guided her gently through her orgasm until she slumped against me with a long, satisfied sigh.
She chuckled happily into my chest as I slid my fingers from her warm body and wrapped my arms around her, pulling her close. “That was …” she trailed off with a happy-sounding sigh.
“Amazing,” I supplied.
She lifted her head from my chest and peered shyly up at me. “So amazing,” she agreed.
Slowly, I lowered my face to hers, giving her time to pull away. Now that the frenzy of the moment had passed, I didn’t want to presume too much. But I needn’t have worried. She flattened her palm against the back of my neck and pulled me down where our mouths met in a slide of lips and tongues.
With her free hand, she reached between us and cupped my cock over my coffee-dampened jeans. I groaned, and she moved her hand in a slow, torturous lift and drag. “Your turn,” she said, flicking open the button at my waist. As she lowered my zipper, it was so quiet you could hear the sound of the tiny metal teeth giving way. She eased herself down onto her knees in front of me. I held my breath as her hands dipped into my boxer briefs and she rubbed the soft pad of her thumb over my cock head, visibly shivering when she eased my dick out from behind the fabric.
“Rosie,” I murmured, reaching out to cradle her cheek, her skin soft like silk against my calloused palms. “You don’t have to.”
“I know that,” she said, her eyes flicking up to meet mine. “But I really fucking want to.” She gripped me in a loose fist and leaned forward, her tongue snaking out to lick a path around my crown. “Tell me what you like.”
Was she serious? There was a beautiful woman down on her knees who wanted to put her mouth on me. I liked everything about that. “Whatever you want to do will feel good.”
“So this?” she asked playfully, licking the underside of my cock from root to tip.
My knees nearly buckled. “Mmm-hmm.”
“And maybe a little bit of this?” She twirled her tongue over the tip before taking just the head into her mouth and sucking lightly. She never broke eye contact with me.
“Fuck, yes,” I said, my voice coming out strangled. I fisted my hand at my side—the temptation to press it to the back of her head and guide her forward was too great.
With her free hand, she cupped my balls and rolled them in her palm. She raised an eyebrow as if to ask, “What about this?”
“Yes,” I breathed. “Just like that.”
Her eyes dropped closed then, and she removed her hand from around my shaft before easing her mouth forward … and forward … and forward until she’d taken every thick inch of me to the back of her throat. Holy fuck. This went on for … I didn’t even know how long. Time had ceased to matter as she put all her effort into making me feel as good as I hoped I’d made her feel. Eventually, her mouth came away with a sexy little pop. “What about that?” she asked saucily.
“Please, yes,” I said, practically begging. If I wasn’t already halfway in love with this woman, the fact that she could deep throat like a champ would definitely have tipped the scales. I was a sucker for a good, enthusiastic blow job, and as she took me in her mouth again, I’d never been more in someone’s thrall.
Or so I thought.
But then her gaze found mine again and she took my hands in hers, placing them against each side of her head—the perfect position for me to fuck her face the way I’d fantasized about far too often. She looked up at me with trust in her eyes and nodded, giving me permission. I thrust my hips forward gently, testing. When she reached around, cupped my ass, and pulled me forward, I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.
Abandoning all semblance of gentlemanly conduct, I fisted her hair in my hands and glided in and out of her mouth with slow, deep thrusts. “You want my cock down that beautiful throat?”
She nodded and hummed her approval, her tongue fluttering on the underside of my head. Saliva dribbled down her chin as she enthusiastically made love to me with her mouth. Who knew she liked it dirty?
“You’re so fucking perfect,” I gritted out from between clenched teeth, trying to stave off the orgasm that I could feel building at the bottom of my spine.
My chemistry with her was off the charts. From the very first moment I’d laid eyes on her, I’d known I was in deep shit. But this here? Sex had never felt as good as it did right now. Like this was where I was supposed to be. Like I could do this for the rest of my damn life.
And I hadn’t even been inside her yet.
“I’m going to come,” I warned, dropping my grip on her hair so I could pull out and finish myself off, but before I could move away, she dug her nails into my rear and took all of me in to the back of her throat. “Oh christ.” My balls constricted, and on my next thrust, I emptied myself into her sweet, sinful mouth. “Fuuuuck,” I groaned, slapping my palm against the door to hold myself up as I rode the wave of my orgasm.
When Rosalie had swallowed down every last drop I had to give, she daintily swiped at her mouth with the pad of her thumb and smiled sweetly up at me. Her lips were swollen, her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were glassy.
It was the sexiest fucking thing I’d ever seen.
21
Rosalie
I sat back on my heels and sent a silent note of thanks out into the universe for the six months in college I’d dated a well-endowed basketball player named Anthony. Technically speaking, he’d been saving himself for marriage, but his views on non-penetrative sex had been extremely liberal. That boy had loved oral sex, and he’d been an excellent tutor. By the time he and I had amicably parted ways, I’d become as enthusiastic about giving blowjobs as he’d been in receiving them.
Unfortunately, when I’d married Blake, I’d had to set that enthusiasm aside as what had made my experience with Anthony so good was something my ex didn’t have: namely a cock so big it barely fit in my mouth. Still, Blake had made up for it in other ways, and for the first couple of years of our marriage, his size—or lack thereof—had hardly mattered. After a while, though, it became clear neither of us was entirely fulfilled by the other.
After things had truly gone south between us, I’d mentioned my desires to a friend who’d informed me there was a term for women like me. We’d been drunk at the time, and I’d laughed until tears streaked down my face at the idea of a woman who’d only ever seen three dicks in her life being a size queen.
But clearly I knew what I liked, and I liked Preston’s dick a lot. Long and hard with a thick vein running up the shaft, my mouth had literally watered when I’d first wrapped my hand around it. And then, when it had grown even harder and bigger inside my mouth, I felt like I’d won the sex lottery.
I shivered now, remembering the power I’d felt when he’d gripped my hair and lost control, sliding that big, beautiful dick in and out of my mouth with hard, measured thrusts. I wanted to do it all over again … but maybe not right this minute. It had been a really long time since my mouth had been so well-used and my throat felt a bit raw.
I gesture
d for Preston to help me up off the floor, feeling too shaky to do it myself. Like my mouth, my knees would also be feeling the effects of what we’d just done. He hefted me upward, his lips crashing against mine as I tumbled into his arms. He backed me roughly up against the door and licked his way inside my mouth. I twined my arms around his neck and kissed him back, basking in the feel of his tongue twisting against my own, the scratch of his beard against my face. It wasn’t pretty or sweet. It was greedy and sloppy, and everything I loved about kissing a man. I could get lost in a kiss like this.
Which terrified me.
I wasn’t the type of woman who could kiss a man—much less take him into my mouth—and have it not mean anything.
This moment had meant everything.
For weeks, I’d been falling for Preston, but I needed to know this afternoon hadn’t been a fluke. That it wasn’t merely a way for us to release some of the steam that had been building between us from the moment we’d met.
As I slowed the press of my lips against his, Preston’s hold on me loosened, and when we both eventually came up for air, he rested his forehead against mine, our breaths mingling.
“That was …” he trailed off. “Fuck, Rosie.” His lips found mine again, slow and soft this time, and he proceeded to kiss me like he never wanted to stop.
As much as I enjoyed it though—because my god, could this man kiss!—we needed to talk.
“Preston,” I murmured, slowly pulling back to rest my head against the door so I could look him in the eye. “We need to slow down.”
He blew out a breath and took a small step backward. His eyes flicked between mine for a few seconds before he nodded in agreement. “Yeah, okay,” he said, pulling his pants back into place and setting himself to rights.
I eased out from between him and the door and crossed through the foyer to the living room, where I took a seat on the sofa. I held my hand out, a silent invitation to join me. When he reached me, he gripped my hand in his and squeezed it gently as he sat down next to me. He didn’t let go as he settled into the cushion.
Homecoming (Speakeasy) Page 14
