Make Me Beg (The Men of Gold Mountain)

by Rebecca Brooks

  She pressed her lips to his chest and pushed him down so he was sitting on the edge of his bed. She straddled him, and his hands slid up her thighs. In the darkness he memorized every sense of her, from the shape of her body to the sounds of her moans. He kissed her ear, the side of her neck, her jaw, collarbone, his breath catching at the swell of her breasts.

  She arched her back, grinding her hips over his. His teeth raked her nipples through her bra, but it was off her in seconds. Part of him felt like he knew her already, from working side by side for three years. Another part realized he’d barely known her, and only now, as she slithered down between his thighs and yanked off his jeans, did he understand how much he’d missed.

  Her tongue flicked over the tip of his cock. She played with him, taking her time, locking her eyes to his and then closing them, a low moan of pleasure escaping from her lips. God, she was enjoying this. All this time he’d thought her cold, the one reason he’d come up with for why they’d never wound up together.

  But here she was, warm and inviting, licking up his shaft, over the tip and back down again. She cupped his balls in his hand and slid her whole mouth over him, taking him back to her throat, and he’d never been this hard, never wanted anyone, anything, so badly as he did now, watching her take him all the way in.

  When she knew he was getting too close, she stood before him, wiping her lips, and slid out of her panties. His eyes ravished her body. He could come just from looking at her. In two strokes he’d be done. But he swallowed hard, made himself wait for what he knew would be even better than what he could do on his own.

  “Condoms?” Mack asked, her voice husky and low.

  “In the bottom drawer of the nightstand.”

  He didn’t take his eyes from her as she went to get them. She came back, ripped the packet, and slid it on his cock. Her hands were light, teasing him all the way down. He groaned. He couldn’t wait. He had to be inside her.

  But she was taking her time. Because this wasn’t like the parking lot or any of the other times they’d had. “I want to be here,” she whispered as she wrapped her hands around his shoulders and straddled him. “If you’ll have me, I want to be here with you.”

  “I’m not going anywhere,” he said, and held her close as she lowered herself down.

  She rode him gently at first, her body learning to make space for him. As she moved, she tilted her hips to draw him deeper until there was nothing in his world but the warmth of her enveloping him. His tongue searched her mouth, her jaw, her neck. His hands were on her ass, up her sides, cupping her breasts as the movement picked up and she began taking him harder, faster. Until she was riding him with everything she had.

  He lay on the bed, letting her take him. She lifted her hips up and down and then forward and back, grinding against him, her legs clinging tighter and tighter. She came first, her cries telling him she was close, she was there, she was over the edge. She was still quivering when he filled her, his body pulsing, trembling in tune with hers.

  She slid off him slowly, as though not wanting to let go. He got up to throw out the condom, and when he came back she was lying on top of the covers. He lay down next to her, realizing this was the first time he’d been naked with her, completely skin to skin.

  “It’s late,” she murmured as he played with a strand of her hair.

  “Do you want to go?”

  She shifted to look at him. “Do you want me to?”

  “You’re coming for brunch tomorrow, right? Or, I guess by now it’s today.”

  “That was the plan.”

  “So it doesn’t make sense for you to drive home at this hour just to come back.”

  Mack laughed. “It’s two minutes away.”

  “Exactly. That’s two minutes you could be sleeping.”

  “Mmm. Priorities.” She let her head rest on his shoulder.

  “I know what your priority is. And it’s definitely not me.” He slid from her grasp and stood.

  “Wait, where are you going? I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Trust me, I’m used to your cruelties. Just hang on a sec.”

  She said okay, but warily. As he headed downstairs, stark naked, he was afraid he’d come back to his bedroom and find her throwing on her clothes. He shouldn’t have given her this time alone to think. Reality would set in, and she’d decide there was no way she could go so far as spending the night.

  Then he saw her dress discarded at the bottom of the stairs and felt a thrill pulse through him at the indulgence of taking it off her. And the knowledge that if he went upstairs to find her trying to leave, she’d be in her underwear. A sight he wouldn’t mind enjoying again.

  But when he went into the bedroom, she was still there. She’d pulled back the covers and was snuggled underneath, having taken over the side of the bed he usually slept on, near the nightstand and the light. He switched it on, and she squinted. “What are you doing?” she asked. Then her eyes widened.

  “Don’t ever say I renege on a promise.” He handed her a fork and a plate with a thick slice of cake, moist vanilla with swirls of rhubarb and creamy lemon curd on top.

  She sat up excitedly. “This is way better than cold pizza and a smoke.”

  He laughed. “If I’d known that’s what you were into—”

  “You wouldn’t have had to send me so many goddamned text messages about cake. Abbi was getting suspicious, you know,” she said as she sank her fork in.

  “Would that be so bad?”

  But Mack shook her head, saying, “I can’t even think about that right now. God, this is good.” She took another bite. “This is really good. I think it could use a little more rhubarb to go with the amount of cake.”

  Connor almost said no. After what they’d just done, he didn’t want to hear her complaints about him.

  “But I don’t think it needs to be sweeter,” she went on before he could respond. “I like that it’s light.”

  And he realized she hadn’t meant the comment as an insult. It wasn’t even about him. It was about making the best food possible. If she wanted more of the swirl, that meant it tasted good. And did he want someone telling him everything was perfect when it wasn’t?

  She cut a forkful of cake and lifted it to him. “It’s not chocolate, but I still like it,” she said as he opened wide for a bite. He crawled into bed with her and they sat there naked, eating cake, and he couldn’t think of a single person he trusted more than Mack to tell him when something was working and when it wasn’t. He knew she wasn’t bullshitting him.

  They finished the cake, and he found a toothbrush for her. Before they fell asleep he touched her again, her body curled in the crook of his arm. Her hips rocked against him as his fingers circled her clit. When she came, she gripped his forearm tightly, holding on, and then pressed his palm tightly to her chest so he could feel her racing heart.

  She fell asleep like that, in his arms. He couldn’t pinpoint exactly what had changed between them, or why. But he could feel it in the way her breathing leveled and her body slackened against him. He didn’t dare shift away from her, afraid she’d wake. So he held her like that even when his arm tingled and went numb. Even when the sun began peeking through the window because he’d forgotten to close the blinds.

  He was afraid if he moved he’d end the moment, she’d wake up, and she’d be gone from him. He’d find out this was any other night for her, and she hadn’t felt anything changing at all.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Mack awoke to sun streaming through the window, a far cry from her bedroom, which she kept pitch black. In a rush it came back: her night with Abbi, the drive to Connor’s, the sex. Oh God, the sex. The smell of something sweet hung in the air, a hint of vanilla. She saw the crumbs of rhubarb cake on the plate they’d left on the nightstand.

  She couldn’t believe she’d spent the night. In the history of Mack, the desire to spend the night was the equivalent of walking into a no-name liquor store in the mountains and finding
her favorite French wine for the right vintage and price. It simply wasn’t what happened.

  Spending the night meant wanting to see the person again. It meant orgasms had not only been achieved but at sufficient intensity and frequency to be at least as satisfying as a night home with her best friends Netflix and Hitachi.

  It meant the possibility of round two. Or three. Or more.

  It meant having gotten into bed together to begin with.

  Connor wasn’t beside her. But it wasn’t like he’d stayed at her place and slipped away without saying good-bye. She could hear him downstairs prepping brunch for their friends. It felt almost…normal. He was so okay her being there, he’d thought nothing of going about his routine.

  She looked around his bedroom, which she’d been too distracted to pay much attention to last night. It had the same feeling as the rest of his house. There was nothing overtly wrong, but the empty walls made it look temporary. It reminded her that however good it felt in his arms, however much she wanted to wake up here, these weren’t feelings that would last.

  They wouldn’t be easy to forget, though. In the bathroom she saw the redness on her cheek, her neck, and around her breasts where his beard had scraped her. Her nipples were sore and mottled from his teeth. She might have cringed at the evidence, but the truth was that she loved the marks, how clear it was that he had claimed her. Her thighs ached with the memory of feeling so full.

  She had no clothes upstairs. Or with her, since the last thing she wanted was to put on her going-out dress again. She threw on the shirt he’d been wearing last night, a soft gray T-shirt that was enormous on her. It was really comfortable. She was making plans to steal it when he came upstairs.

  He must have heard her moving about because he had a steaming cup of coffee with him.

  Black, how he knew she liked it.

  “Like your heart,” he told her every time he made her coffee at Mack Daddy’s, and this time he said it, too. Only he kissed the tip of her nose as he gave it to her. She had no idea what to think.

  “Um. Hi,” she said.

  “Hi.” There was an awkward beat, and then he grinned. “My shirt looks good on you.”

  “I don’t have a lot of options. Thanks for the coffee.” She took a sip. It was as good as he made it at the restaurant.

  She saw his eyes widen.

  “What?” she asked. “Did you poison it?”

  He swallowed. “It suddenly occurred to me I maybe should have woken you up earlier.”

  “Why? What time is it?”

  “Ten thirty.”

  “What?”

  “I texted everyone to come at eleven instead of ten,” he said quickly. “But I didn’t think about whether you needed to go home first.”

  “It’s fine,” she said, setting the coffee down next to the plate. “I can run home, shower, change. I’ll be a little late but that’s no big deal.” She was ready for him to agree, jump into action, help her gather her things. But his face suddenly looked like it was missing a few pints of blood.

  “I, uh…” He looked away.

  “Tell me,” she said.

  “I may have told them I was pushing it back because you were here. For work,” he added quickly. “I said it was for work. Is that okay?”

  “Dammit, Connor. You couldn’t have asked me first?”

  “I wanted to let you sleep. We were up so late and you were burrito-ed up like a little Mack morsel. I couldn’t help it.”

  “Don’t say cute things, I’m supposed to be mad at you.”

  He smiled. “You can shower here.”

  “And put on my little black dress? The one Abbi saw me in last night?”

  “I can tell them it’s sexy brunch.”

  “Are you going to serve everyone naked cake?” She pretended to be shocked.

  Connor wrapped his arms around her. “Only you get naked cake,” he said, kissing her forehead.

  His cell phone rang by the side of the bed and reluctantly he pulled away. “Sorry, I have to get this,” he said as he checked the number.

  “I’ll hop in the shower,” she said.

  Mack went into the bathroom, but before she ran the water she could hear him pick up and say, “I’m working on it,” and then, “Exactly what I told you I would.”

  Then he sighed, and there came a long pause. Mack knew she shouldn’t listen, but she couldn’t help it. What was he talking about?

  “I have a completed menu I can send you. When the blueprints are finished, you’ll be the first to know. But I have to go. I’ll call you back tonight and we can talk more.”

  He hung up, and Mack started the shower, trying not to seem as though she’d been listening in. “What was that about?” she asked casually as she checked the temperature.

  “Nothing,” he said.

  She glanced over at him. “You’re just sending everything about our business to someone who didn’t sound like Sam?” she asked.

  She saw him flinch. “My dad,” he admitted. “He’s covering my part of the investment, so he wants to know what’s going on.”

  Mack wished she still had his shirt on. Or better yet, her own. She wished she didn’t feel quite so naked when she said, “Let me guess. He’s the one behind this whole drive to make the Branding name worth something around here.”

  “It’s not like that. I pitched him my idea, and he said he’d support it. If I had all the resources in the world, maybe I’d do something different. Big communal tables to go with the sharing plates, someplace with bright colors that would be inviting rather than, you know—”

  “Stuffy,” Mack said pointedly, folding her arms over her breasts.

  “But I know what sells, okay?”

  “In other words, Daddy wouldn’t fork over for a bar named Mackenzie’s.” She tried not to let her voice break as she said it, but Connor must have heard, because his eyes went soft.

  “We have to make sure whatever we have doesn’t close in a year. That’s all I’m trying to do.”

  “And if it doesn’t work? If you and your family don’t get the restaurant you want, or it closes anyway?”

  He sighed. “Then I go work on my brother’s farm in Oregon, I guess, and kiss this whole cooking thing good-bye.”

  Mack put her hand under the water. But it was as though she could no longer feel it. He was kidding, right? This was some terrible joke designed to test her, to trick her into spilling her guts so he’d know how much she wanted him there. To make her be the one to say it first.

  This couldn’t possibly be real.

  “Oregon?” She tried to sound fine, but her throat was sandpaper, and the word hurt coming out.

  He gathered her into the shower, his arms around her as the water poured down. “It’s not going to happen.”

  She pressed her cheek to his chest. She couldn’t look at him when she said, “But this is your family we’re talking about.”

  Connor pulled back so that he could look at her. “Which means they’re used to me not doing what they want. Are you worried? I’m not leaving. Mack, I promise. No matter what happens with the restaurant, I’m staying right here.”

  She nodded, but her head was a puppet on a string, bobbing along because it was supposed to. Inside, she could feel a knot tightening in her chest. Connor had ambitions as a chef. He also had a family and obligations that extended beyond Gold Mountain and the restaurant. He’d walked into her life three years ago, and she’d been surprised when he hadn’t walked out. That didn’t mean he never would.

  When he’d talked about the restaurant—their restaurant—under another chef, this was why. His parents were pushing him to make them proud. And he was pushing himself. If the restaurant succeeded, he’d be on to a better spot. If it didn’t, he’d move to Oregon and start over on his brother’s farm. Either way, he’d be gone.

  But oh, the way he kissed her. It was hard to believe his words when he assured her he wanted to stay. A kiss couldn’t lie, though. And this wasn’t the touch of
someone who wanted to be anywhere but here, with her, as the water pounded down.

  Mack closed her eyes and let herself surrender. For a moment, she let herself believe that he was hers.

  Mack could have predicted that showering together would mean they were scrambling to be dressed by the time the doorbell rang. Connor threw on jeans and a plaid button-down shirt, giving him a rugged look that turned her weak in the knees. She was far less presentable in sweatpants that were enormous on her even rolled up, but they were the only option she could cinch around her waist. Connor had made her come in the shower, sliding his fingers inside her and then over her clit as he pressed her against the tile wall, but he kept trying to undo the drawstring—especially once she let him sneak a peek at the fact that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.

  She had crouched to her knees and let the steaming water pour over her as she sucked him off, his palms flat against the wall over her, bracing himself as she took him in. So she knew it wasn’t like he was going to be ready to come again in ten minutes. He’d guessed by the glint in her eye that she could, though. He had her pinned up against the wall and was busy unbuttoning the oversize shirt of his she had on when the doorbell rang.

  “Later,” he mouthed before heading downstairs. “You’re mine.”

  “Wait,” Mack called before he could open the door. Was he seriously going to let them in while she was still upstairs? In his bedroom? Wearing his clothes?

  He looked at her in confusion and she bounded into the kitchen, where it would look like she was getting plates together. “Right,” he said. “Totally normal.” Which, at least he was catching on. But she could hear an edge in his voice, almost like he was disappointed. Shouldn’t they figure out what was going on between the two of them before getting the rest of the world involved?