But I don't.
Instead, I do what he tells me to do. And it makes me wet. My eyes never leave his as I reach underneath my skirt and slide them over my hips, letting them fall to the ground. Bending over, I pick them up and walk to Gaige, panties dangling from the tip of my finger. "Is this what you wanted?" I ask.
"This is nowhere near what I want," he says. He takes my thong from my hand and puts it in the pocket of his jacket. "Turn around."
"Why?"
"Has anyone ever told you that you're mouthy as all fucking get out?" he asks.
"Never."
"Liar," he says. "Turn around and close your mouth before I put something in it."
"Promise?" I whisper.
The corners of his mouth curl up. "Is that what you want?"
I don't answer him. I turn around instead. "Yes?" I ask, but I'm really answering his question. What I want is Gaige's cock in my mouth again. What I want is to taste him when he comes.
"Pull your skirt up over your ass."
"Not out here, Gaige," I protest, but the protest is weak.
"Now."
I hold my breath, flipping my skirt up to my waist, the air cool against my skin. And I wait. Gaige moves his hand slowly over the curves of my ass, then brings his palm down hard on my flesh. "That's for wearing panties."
I let out a little moan as the vibration from his touch moves through me, a jolt of pleasure and pain between my legs. The initial sharp sting becomes a dull throb, but only for a moment until he brings his hand down again. "And that's for wearing a bra."
He pauses, letting his fingers brush my pussy lips, already wet with my arousal. His touch sends pleasure ricocheting through my body that far eclipses the pain. Then he draws his hand back and spanks me again. "And that's for flirting with Japanese businessmen."
I face him, my ass cheek throbbing and tears stinging my eyes. "Now you're the jealous one," I say.
Gaige's hands grip my flesh, and he pulls me hard against him, my skirt still bunched up around my waist. "You're goddamned right I'm jealous," he says, his voice hoarse. "I don't like thinking about you with someone else."
"Why?" I ask, my face upturned. "You're the one who…dates around, Gaige O'Neal. Everyone knows that."
"Not since you," he says.
"So you haven't slept with anyone else in a couple weeks?" I say. "Congratulations."
"I haven't looked at anyone since you came back here," he says, his voice angry. "And, just so you understand -- as long as I'm fucking you, you belong to me."
"Who the hell says shit like that, Gaige?" I ask. Part of me bristles at his possessiveness, but another part of me is so turned on I can't think clearly. I don't know whether to smack his hands off my ass and tell him to go screw himself and his caveman antics, or whether to drop to my knees and take him in my mouth. He's that infuriating. And confusing. "You can't just…tell me you own me. That's not something normal people say."
"Fuck normal," Gaige says, taking my face in his hands. He strokes my lower lip with his thumb and I can imagine him doing the same thing between my legs. And then, as if he can read my mind, he reaches between my legs with his other hand, spreading them apart and thrusting two fingers inside me without warning. "You're making me crazy. That's not fucking normal either."
"You…oh my God…" I gasp the words, my hand on his firm chest for balance. "You cannot just put your fingers…inside me out here."
He doesn't stop, though. He continues to stroke me, his other hand over my breast. "I'm not just going to put my fingers inside you," he says. "I'm going to make you come outside, right here in the garden."
I'm so wet, so on the verge already from the anticipation of him, that I'm lost in his touch. So lost, that it takes me a minute to register the voices of a couple somewhere nearby. When I do hear them, I stiffen, giving Gaige a panicked look. "Shit," I whisper. "Someone's coming."
"Then you'd better come," he says, glancing over my shoulder toward the entrance of this part of the maze. "Because I'm not moving my fingers until you do."
"No," I protest, but he presses his palm firmly against my clit, his fingers continuing to work their magic. "Shit, Gaige."
"Come for me, Delaney," he whispers, and his words bring me higher. "Come for me right here, right now, or you're about to be discovered in the garden at your father's house, with your sophisticated little black dress around your waist, your stepbrother's handprints on your ass, and his fingers in your pussy."
That's it. The filthiness of his words push me over the edge and send me hurtling toward a climax. I'm clutching at his arms and at the shirt that covers his chest as I come hard on his fingers. Gaige covers my mouth with his to mute my moan.
Then he pulls away from me and grins. "I knew you were fucking dirty," he says. He doesn't even let me recover, just slides his fingers from between my legs and puts them in his mouth, making a show of licking them. "You'd better pull that skirt down fast."
"Shit." My pussy is throbbing and my heart is about to beat out of my chest as the voices, a man's voice and a woman's drunken giggle, get closer. "Shit, Gaige."
"Come on," he says, far more casual than I feel, as he bends down to grab our cocktail glasses, and nods in the opposite direction. "We'll go out this way."
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
GAIGE
"Oh my God." Delaney stops, just outside of the maze, her hand over her chest and her breath short. "We could have gotten caught in there."
I hold my glass up in the air, in a mock "cheers" gesture. "But we didn't."
"We should get back," she says, her expression panicked.
"Oh, I don't think so. I'm not done with you yet." I take her hand and place it on the front of my pants, and she laughs.
"How are you hard after we just ran out of there because people were coming?" she asks, her eyes wide. Then she pauses. "Oh. You're hard because we might have gotten caught."
I shrug. "Maybe," I say. "Or maybe it's just you that got me hot."
"There's nowhere to go," she says. "If we go inside the guest house or the main house, someone will notice."
"Good thing we're not going either of those places," I say. "Come on."
Delaney follows me across the path to the golf cart, parked on the side of the outbuilding where the gardeners keep their supplies. "I don't get it. Here?"
"No, not here," I say, gesturing. "Get in."
"Where are you taking me?" she asks. But she slides into the seat in the golf cart.
"Don't trust me, darlin'? That's awful hateful of you, given where my fingers just were."
Delaney raises her eyebrows, grinning as she holds onto the side of the golf cart. "I definitely know not to trust you," she says.
"Shameful." I shake my head, steering us along the path that winds down the back of the property.
"So what's it going to look like to anyone who sees the golf cart just roaming around back here?" she asks.
"Like one of the groundskeepers is doing work."
"At night."
I shrug. "No one will give it a second thought," I say.
Delaney glances over at me. "My father was right," she says. "You're trouble. You definitely need a babysitter."
"I do. Will you wear a plaid skirt?"
Delaney laughs. "That's schoolgirl, not babysitter."
"Ooh. Schoolgirl then, even better. What do babysitters wear?" I ask, pulling the golf cart up to where I want to take her. We're parked on a hill on the far end of the developed part of the property next to a pond that's stocked for fishing – man-made, I think -- and overlooking the garden, which just tonight became my new favorite place. Well, it's a close second to the sunroom.
"Mine wore jeans and a t-shirt. Nothing sexy," she says. "Sorry to disappoint. Didn't you ever have a babysitter?"
"I had a nanny," I say. "German. Not very pleasant."
"Was Anja around a lot when you were a kid?" she asks.
"Nah," I say, shrugging. "Which is probably for the best. She's not really t
he most motherly person there ever was."
Delaney is silent for a minute. "It looks so pretty from afar," she says, looking at the party from our vantage point in the distance, where the white lights glitter against the backdrop of the tents.
"Yeah, it's when you have to actually go down there and interact with everyone that it's not as pretty," I say. That came out a lot more bitter-sounding than I intended.
Delaney tucks her hair behind her ear and looks at me. "Are you happy?" she asks. "I don't mean, like are you happy with you and I or whatever. I mean it more generally."
"What the hell, Delaney? That's an uncomfortable fucking question."
"You think?" she asks. "It shouldn't be, right? It should be easy."
"I don't know," I say. It's not easy. It's the least easy question ever. "Are you happy?"
She studies me for a second, and I swear to God my heart stops. Like, full on stops. I don't know why I care so much what her answer to that question is, but it suddenly seems like the most meaningful second of waiting in the world.
Then she breaks into the biggest damn smile I've ever seen, and she's absolutely fucking radiant. "Yeah," she says. "Right now I am."
I stare at her stupidly, and before I can say anything, she presses her soft lips to mine. The kiss is tentative and hesitant, just like the way she first kissed me four years ago. And I'm instantly transported to feeling eighteen and head over heels for Delaney.
She kisses me the way no one ever had before and no one has since, and the chemistry is so intense it's a fucking explosion, fireworks on the Fourth of July.
And I mean that literally.
Both of us jump at the explosion, and Delaney giggles. "Oh my God, that scared me," she says.
Then she puts her hand in mine, and for a minute, we just sit there watching the fireworks together, and I think that my fucking heart is going to explode.
The fireworks are still going when she climbs on top of me and kisses me, her hair falling down around my face. I slip the straps of her dress from her shoulders, followed by her bra, and look at her, silhouetted against the background of the party and the fireworks.
I'm suddenly struck by how much everything with Delaney feels right. She feels like coming home.
She pauses, looking at me. "What?" she whispers. "You look weird."
"Fuck you, too," I say, my thumb sliding over her hard nipple.
She swats my arm. "I mean, you have a weird expression," she says softly, kissing me again.
I put my hands on both sides of her face and take her in. "It's nothing," I say. "I could just get used to looking at you like this."
Delaney doesn't say anything, just blushes her response before kissing me again. Her tongue finds mine, and she moans against me, sliding her hand down to my waistband, where she fumbles with the button on my pants before gripping the lapels of my jacket. "I want this off," she says, her voice breathy. "Take this off. I want you inside me."
That's what I've been waiting to hear. It's not everything, but it's enough. I strip off my jacket and toss it on the seat beside her, and then her hands are on my waistband, unzipping my pants before I even have the chance. When she grasps my cock, she sighs.
She fucking sighs.
Like she's been waiting for it.
Just when I think I have a handle on Delaney, she goes and changes everything.
I reach between her legs and confirm her desire. "You're still wet," I say.
"I told you."
Delaney doesn't even wait for me to put on the condom; she grabs it from my hand as soon as I rip open the wrapper, and rolls it onto my length, her eyes never leaving mine. "No more foreplay," she orders. Flashing me a wicked grin, she turns around and flips up her skirt, then impales herself on my cock, gliding onto my length in one single movement, before settling back against me.
I hold her tight, caressing her breasts as I rock slowly inside her. The fact that I'm filling her up to the hilt, my balls pressed against her, out here in the middle of her father's estate, is enough to leave me throbbing. But then Delaney starts to ride me, slowly and rhythmically, and I'm brought nearly to the brink.
"Oh, God, Gaige," she moans. "Just like that."
"No more foreplay," I say as I fuck her. But I don't mean the actual physical act of foreplay. I mean the bickering and fighting, the back-and-forth between Delaney and I.
"No," she gasps. "Just fuck me."
I thrust deeper inside her and she rides me, grinding harder against me as she starts to lose control. She brings me closer and closer and I pull her head back by gripping a handful of hair. "No more messing around, Delaney," I warn.
"Oh God, Gaige," she gasps. "I'm so close."
"No. More. Of. This. One. Night. Stand. Bullshit." I punctuate each word with a thrust and a yank of her hair. "You and I are fucking."
"Yes," she moans.
"You wait to come until I say you can come," I say. Fuck, I'm going to have a hard time waiting. I press more firmly on her clit to torture her a little more. "Do you understand me?"
"Gaige, please."
"Is that a yes?" I ask. "You belong to me. All of you is mine."
"Yes, yes, yes," she cries out.
"Come for me," I growl into her ear, and her muscles squeeze my cock before I even finish the sentence. My balls clench and I let go, filling her up, my hands on her hips, pushing her down hard on my cock. When she screams, I push my fingers in her mouth and she sucks on them, muting her cries.
I'm so caught up in the moment that I don't even register at first that she's slapping me on the arm. "What, baby?"
"Gaige!" she yells. "We're fucking moving."
"Fuck, yeah, we are." My eyes are closed and I have my head buried in her neck, and I'm breathing in her scent, this mixture of sex and summertime that I want to imprint on my brain so I can remember it forever.
"Shit, no, Gaige! We're actually moving! Backwards!" she yells.
I open my eyes, and realized we are rolling backwards, in fact. Rapidly.
Down the hill.
Toward the motherfucking pond.
I fumble for the emergency break, trying to find it with my foot in the dark and Delaney on my lap. That's a lot harder than it sounds, when you're careening backwards down a hill.
When I hit the brake pedal and we stop sliding backwards, we're perched on the bank of the pond, the back wheels dangerously close to the water. The golf cart sits slightly at an angle, and Delaney sits squarely on my cock.
She gasps, her bare breasts heaving, hand over her face. For a second, I think she's crying, but when she looks up, she erupts into peals of laughter. "Holy shit, Gaige, we almost ended up in the lake!"
"We probably should sit here for a few more minutes," I say. "Don't want to shift the weight or anything to accidentally make us roll into the pond."
"Oh my God, will it?" she squeals. Then she looks over her shoulder at me and I raise my eyebrows. "You just want me on your cock longer."
"Smart girl."
"Did you mean what you said when we were in the middle of…you know?"
"Did I mean what I said about us?" I ask.
"Yes," she says. "Do you want this to be more than just a one night stand?"
I pull her against me, one arm wrapped tightly around her chest. "I've never been more than a one night stand kind of guy. All I know is that I don't want to be with anyone else, and that the thought of someone else putting his hands on you makes me want to kill him."
"So, no Chelsea," she says.
"Fuck, of course there's no Chelsea," I tell her.
"No bimbos or groupies," she says.
"There's no one else but you, Delaney." When I say the words aloud, they ring true. The problem is that I thought I was just talking about having her all to myself in the bedroom, but now I'm not sure sex is all I want from her.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
DELANEY
I'm stuck on a flight to Japan with Gaige and Chelsea. Not that this is awkward or
anything. At all.
Chelsea has been sweet as pie to me, but I'm pretty sure she wants me dead. I think she suspects Gaige and I are up to something, and that's definitely true. We've been sneaking around like a couple of hormonal teenagers. The truth is, I can't get enough of him. I find myself wanting him all the time, and that fact is starting to scare me a little bit.
The flight itself hasn't been terrible. We have first class suites, so I put up the privacy partition on mine as soon as we took off, and I didn't have to even think about Chelsea and how she glared at me from the other side of the aisle when Gaige got into the suite next to mine. It's almost like she doesn't exist. The seat converts into a bed, and I'm lying here on my laptop looking at the schedule, but I'm preoccupied with thoughts of Gaige.
Gaige says he wants us to be more than just a one night stand. But is it only because he doesn't want anyone else to touch me?
I press my finger to my lips, thinking about Gaige's version of owning me. I've never wanted to be possessed by someone before, but that's what I find myself wanting now.
A message appears in my inbox.
Are you sleeping? I'm bored. You should figure out a way to entertain me. That's going to be your job on this trip, right? The flight attendant has been by a million times with champagne, you know. Put down your partition and join the living.
I choke back a laugh and roll my eyes.
I know what your version of entertainment is. I'm sure Chelsea would be thrilled if that happened. Is she still giving me the evil eye through the partition?
I give it a few minutes before I go back to looking at the schedule. Obviously, Gaige got bored and moved on to something else. And that's precisely what I'm afraid of, when it comes to him and women. That's why I keep trying to push him away.
I wonder how much I'm deluding myself by thinking I'm something special in Gaige's eyes. I think I might be letting my past feelings about him affect my judgment now. I'm afraid it might be making me careless.
I have to remind myself that what's between us is just sex. That's all. We're hooking up and that's all it's going to be. It might not be just one night but it's certainly not going to be forever.
Prince Albert: A Billionaire Stepbrother Romance Page 38
