by Melissa Blue
His chuckle rumbled low in his chest. “You've had me plenty of times.”
“Never fails to get me off.”
He reached for the oil and lathered up his hands behind her back. Ian started at her neck and massaged his way down and up. He kneaded out any tense muscles. The more he touched her, the wetter she became, the heavier her breathing. It was seduction, but she'd long since stopped pointing it out and asking for anything else. If for just a time she could have intimacy with him, she'd revel in every one of them he showed her.
“Sit up,” he said.
When she did, he straightened and placed his back against the headboard. Face to face, he continued to knead her muscles, but now, with her legs spread open by his, he brushed his fingertips over the lips of her pussy from behind.
She buried her face in the crook of his neck and let him tease her. This was his fantasy, just touching her, and it was something he'd done often, but it never felt old. He poured on more oil and it slid down between her butt cheeks. She stilled at the thought and kissed his neck.
He tensed, hands paused. “What?”
“I have a fantasy now.”
“Tell me. In detail.”
She smiled against his neck and had no trouble this time speaking it, “I'm astride you like this. Riding you, slowly, and you're touching me where no man has ever touched me.”
Ian's heart jumped into his throat and he cursed, because he knew exactly what she was asking for. “You've got to warn me when you ask for things like that. You know I'm fragile. Give me a moment.”
But his hand was already moving down her back, following the line of oil. He heard her sharp intake of breath. She stilled, bracing herself and that wouldn't do. He grasped her hips and lifted her away from his dick. “Put the condom on.”
Her fingers were hurried and clumsy, but she got the job done. He eased her down onto him, but let her set the pace. It was hard to let her go at it without his help, but she needed to feel in control of this moment more than he needed to control it. But that was something he never really felt with her. He met her strokes with light upward thrusts.
She gripped his shoulders and moaned into his neck. When he felt her tightening around him, he gripped her hips and held her still, not letting her come, suspending her in that heady moment of release. Her breath shuddered out and she trembled. Her nails dug into his skin and he embraced the pain. He welcomed the marks she'd leave behind.
Ian let her go and she rose up and down faster as though he'd change his mind and stop her again. As she did, he slid his finger between her arse cheeks and stopped at her anus. In concentric circles he prepared the tight star, felt her spasm from the orgasm. The tenure of her moans heightened.
“Bear down,” he whispered. “Slowly, so it won't hurt as much.”
She did and was so tight he barely breached her. Jocelyn's breath panted out and her fingernails dug deeper. She trembled, but said into his ear, “More.”
He pulled out, catching more oil on the tip of his finger. He slid farther into the tight embrace. Ian had to see her face. With his other hand, he gripped her hair and pulled her back to watch. Her face looked like she was in agony. He started to remove his finger, but stopped at her soft moan.
“No. Feels good.” She stroked down, pushing him deeper. A soft cry spilled out and tangled with a laugh. “Feels pervy.”
“And I know how much you like that.”
She bit her lip and it contained the smile. Her lips looked fuller, plusher. Ian shouldn't do what he had the mind to do but couldn't tear his gaze away. Not while her skin was flushed. She shifted, not breaking the gaze either and buried him deeper, moaning softer. He kept watching her mouth as she fucked him, fucked his finger. Watched as she loved it.
When had he gone and lost his head? Did it matter? Since he'd lost control long ago, Ian dipped his head and nipped at her parted bottom lip. She gasped and stilled because he'd crossed the line. This was something she'd never asked for and had made perfectly clear she didn't want...but she was snug and warm all around him.
Bugger that.
Ian didn't have an excuse. He wanted to. He needed to know what it felt like to kiss her before they ended. This had always been about her and he'd given everything. He felt raw and exposed for needing to kiss her, for taking her mouth without permission. He couldn't lift his gaze to meet hers. Not yet.
Her teeth scraped over where he'd bit her. “No,” she said.
“Yes,” he argued.
Jocelyn didn't turn her head away like she'd done before. She swallowed and sank down and then rose up again. “This.”
“No,” he murmured and stole another bite of her lips.
Harder, slower he sucked on the flesh as he pulled back. She tasted sweet and right. She tasted like perfection. Something that just settled between his throat and chest. So he had to take another taste, swirling his tongue into her mouth as she gasped and shuddered. He was buried deep inside her. It wasn't enough.
“Ask,” she moaned.
His heartbeat thudded in his ears. She understood this was his fantasy. “Can I kiss you?”
She let go of his shoulders and ran her hands through his hair and gripped him hard. “Yes.”
This time with her permission, he kissed her with all that he had. In all the ways he'd imagined. In all the ways that mattered but shouldn't have. She'd told him he wouldn't be her bastard. How her words made him ache.
Only a sick fuck would wish that she'd miss him, that she'd feel the loss of him, because in that moment he'd knew he'd miss her, feel the loss of her. It would kill him a little every time she crossed his mind. He couldn't bear never knowing what her mouth felt like beneath his. To feel her part her lips and give him the taste of one fantasy he didn't dare speak—her complete supplication, her trust, her heart. Wanting it made him a fool, but he couldn't not want it.
Ian dipped his tongue in deeper, exploring every inch of her mouth in between sucking her lips as she continued to take him, achingly slow. His finger worked her at the same pace, deeper until there was no more to give, gliding in and out.
She pulled back only to say “more” and kissed him again.
He groaned and slicked two fingers in the crease of her arse and down again into her, tentatively, and she lowered onto him, taking him with only a moan. He kissed her softly, slowly, hard and fast. As many ways he could as she took all of him.
He felt her tremors when she was on the brink of coming. Joce held herself still until the urge passed and then started to build herself back up. He didn't know how long they went at it just like that. It felt like forever, and if he could have, Ian would have kept right on going. She felt too good. Her moans were almost enough to do him in. And she was tight and wet. Her mouth sweet and hot.
He took her harder, rougher and she egged on him between kisses: telling him in graphic detail how it felt to be filled with him, what they could do with the glass dildo next time and how she never wanted him to stop kissing her. It was too much to hold back for either of them, because the moment he groaned deep in his throat, she clenched around him. Her soft cry did him in completely. There was no slamming into her, only his release and hers. She went limp on top of him and for her sake, he fought the sudden exhaustion.
He pulled out of her, but kept her close. She lifted her head, glanced at the clock and then down at him, a wicked smile lighting up her face. “It's midnight. I think what we just did can be defined as a bang.”
Ian snorted. “Happy thirtieth. To me, I think though. Feels like I just lost some years with that one.” The smile faded, because he could see the quiet anguish grooving the lines around her. “What?” he asked, gut clenching.
“You kissed me.”
He swallowed. “Aye.”
Her gaze fixated on his mouth a moment. He couldn't read all the emotions flitting across her face. He only knew the one—lust.
“You're good at it,” she said simply. “Kiss me again?”
Ach and he
did, while her mobile rang and Lexxie whined at the door. Nothing else in that moment mattered because she'd asked and as always he answered.
CHAPTER TEN
After ten minutes and the third time her phone rang, dread filled Jocelyn's stomach. The real world had started to shatter her fantasy even though she'd tried to ignore it. Facing reality would mean ending this moment, ending them and accepting that they were never a them.
So, Jocelyn fixated on what she could face. Marcus was calling her. She should have stayed at work and watched him like a hawk. No. She'd tossed all responsibility for a man who was going to leave her. A man who kissed her when she'd made it clear that was the final, absolute line and that one they would not cross. She'd needed it for self-preservation and now she couldn’t stop kissing him. Couldn't stop wanting him to hear what she couldn't possibly say.
No. No. Not what to fixate on. Get dressed. Go.
She pulled away from the embrace, crawled out of the bed, feeling old and creaky, and walked to the dresser. She plucked out the first thing in sight. His sweats. She stuffed them back in and found jeans, one of her shirts and trudged to the closet for tennis shoes.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
She didn't look at him. “Getting dressed. Answering my phone and then heading to the museum because I'm sure that's Marcus letting me know he's screwed something up. Then I'll have to fix it in time for the opening. I've got a lot riding on this. Hell, we both do.”
He was silent for a very long time. She knew that silence and knew what he'd say before he opened his mouth. He'd remind her they always had an end date. Her feelings wouldn't change what they could never be. Once again, her love wasn't enough. He'd taught her how to shut off emotions so she took his lesson to heart.
“Just don't.” She finally faced him. “Are you coming with me or staying here?”
There wasn't a single emotion on his face but his lips were pursed. “That's it? That's all you've got to say right now?”
No time to shower. She smelled of him, smelled of their sex. Since that very first time they had...fucked, Jocelyn had felt he was stripping her down to her barest and most basic of needs. Civilization felt ripped out of her very core. She'd always know the things she'd liked in bed, the things she'd like done to her. Never, ever would she be able to forget how primitive sex could be. How it meant to be laid open and willing to be taken. And that made her feel like an exposed nerve.
Yeah, she asked for it, but he had to know who she really was. It would have been paternalistic as hell to pat her on the head and send her away, but he was the expert when they first started this kind of exchange. He had to know what sex like this would do to her on a cellular level. He had it all the time. Across countries. He was going to leave her exposed and raw.
Now he wanted to talk and be civilized about the whole thing? What a bastard. Maybe it was unfair and irrational to be so angry at him, but she was tired of being nice, sweet and charitable in her own thoughts. “Nothing else to say.” She sounded so removed from the situation. Not one emotion leaked out. There was too many and she was just numb.
“You're leaving,” she said. “For all intents and purposes, we're done. The curtains are closing. Us kissing was taking the final bow. I'm trying not to make a big deal out of this. Don't you dare do it.”
Her phone rang again and she made a sound of frustration. “I really should get that.”
His gaze stayed narrowed. Ian crossed his arms behind his head and leaned against the headboard. “No one's stopping you.”
“I was waiting to see if you were coming. I'm taking that as a no.”
“You've got this covered. I'm going to bed. I'll deal with the headache in the morning. Are you sure it's Marcus calling?”
Her phone rang again. “No one, not even an egotistical grad student would call like this to say 'look how awesome I am.' I should have known better than to leave him alone.”
“You live and you learn, Lass, and sometimes you've got to accept some things will never change.”
It took her a full fifteen seconds to hear what he'd said. Oh, Ian was pissed. His accent had eclipsed most of the words, but he looked cool as a fucking fan in her bed. Why? Maybe he saw the cracks and that meant she'd broken the rule. Probably turn into a headache down the line for him. God, she wouldn't make a fool of herself over him. Maybe he had a prepared speech that would soothe feathers, but make it clear they were over and she was screwing up that last hooray. She would not stand there and get those words shoved down her throat.
Her phone rang again and since she'd started this, Jocelyn turned away. She was keeping up the appearance of being just fine, fine, fine with him leaving. No cause for dramatics. Or tears. Just shut off whatever emotion bubbled up her throat doing its damnedest to choke her. She needed something to focus on or it would all come rushing out, drowning them both.
Still, he'd leave.
If this was real and because it was them, they'd fight about him leaving. The argument would be as volatile as their sex. Another one of his rules. He wouldn't have to tell her to ask all the questions she burned to know. She'd chuck them at him, one at a time or all at once. He'd answer them even though it might feel like breaking her, because they both knew omissions left doubts. Ones that didn't show up for some time, but they did. Reese had done that to her. Ian's mother had done that to him. They didn't do that to each other for those reasons.
What did it matter? He was leaving. No need to fight or ask questions or say things that were right there on the tip of her tongue.
So, she swallowed down every single emotion and the words felt like a handful of broken glass. “All right. See you in the morning.”
“Aye.” The way he said it could have shattered a diamond with one blow.
She escaped to the living room, dug around in her purse and answered the phone. “Jocelyn Pearson.”
“This is Marcus. I'm sorry for calling so late, but, uh, I need some help.”
“I assumed as much the third time my phone rang in a row.”
“Oh, yeah. I was sure you were asleep, but I really need you to come to the museum. I don't know what happened. It was, uh...are you on your way?”
“Dressed. Have my car keys in hand. After I get off the phone with you, I'll call security to let them know I'm on my way. Don't worry about it. This is a big project even for me.”
He sighed with relief. “I'll make another pot of coffee.”
She forced herself to smile so it would show in her voice. “Maybe you shouldn't have anymore, but thank you for making me some.”
Jocelyn ended the call and heard Ian in the hallway, then the bathroom door closed. Lexxie perked up from her spot on her bed. She looked down the hall, let her gaze rove back to Jocelyn for a long moment and then sniffed.
“Don't you dare look at me like that.”
Lexxie stood, turned around and put her back to Jocelyn.
She sighed. “Yeah, I know.”
She bit her lip and glanced down the hallway toward the bathroom. But what would be the point of trying to...do anything? She hadn't lied. They were done. Her phone rang. It was security. Apparently, Marcus was too anxious for her to call them. She sighed again and left the apartment. Already things felt back to normal. Work took priority because there was nothing else to look forward to.
*****
The hot water washed over Ian and he tried, really hard, to stay pissed at Joce. He knew every word she hadn't said, refused to speak because she was too nice. They'd been right there on her fucking face as she'd pulled back and realized the phone would have to be answered. Whatever had happened in bed had come to an end. They were done. And...he wasn't worth the trouble of saying another word to, of fighting with, of asking him to stay, making a mess of what they said they'd be.
“Just don't,” she'd said when she saw he was going to make a mess of things. Nothing else to say. She'd looked pissed because he was trying to turn the experience into more and not end it like he'd
said.
He couldn't blame her for any of the shitty thoughts about him that crossed her mind and flicked across her face. Thought them of himself often enough. She'd offered and he took like a rutting pig. He was nothing more than a good fuck anyway. Even when there were plenty of times he felt like more with her. So, he had lived the lie because he could wake up, roll over and drag her under him. He could smell her sex whenever he felt like it. He could have her and be with her.
Ian rammed his fist against the tile and the pain sang up his arm, but he deserved worse. No. He deserved nothing. No fanfare. Just like she gave him.
“Nothing but a sodding arse.”
When he told her about his mum, he should have left then. He didn't do sweet and inexperienced. He didn't do women who would make him feel... just feel. They got under your skin. No matter how long he stayed in the shower and scrubbed there she'd be. He was the good lay she had before turning thirty. He made sure from the beginning that's all he'd be.
And she was right. What could be said? If, a big if, you do care for me, I've got commitments. You'll have long, lonely nights and not a damn thing you can do about that. You'll miss me like shit. Even if that didn't bother her, Jocelyn didn't need or want a man with mum issues. Ach. Someone who'd finger her arse and kiss her like that was romantic.
What a piece of shite.
A whine came from the door followed by scratches. Ian closed his eyes, hands balled against the tile and gave himself a moment to pull himself together. Took a long while to stuff all the emotion and disgust away. It was years worth if he thought hard about it. Never had he felt shame for the man he was. He liked what he liked. Lived by the barest of means. What more could he want? But she made him want stupid things like tweed jackets just to make her laugh.
Fucking Joce.
Didn't she know, couldn't she see he lived with the bare minimum to be able to live that way? No. Ach. Fattening him up with home cooked meals. Now, most pizzas would taste like the cardboard they were. She should have turned her head when he kissed her. Just jumped off his dick and left him cold to drive the point home. No. She'd kissed him back and then asked for more to appease him, telling him he was good at it.
