by JM Stewart
She shook her head, letting the words drift off. Embarrassment heated her cheeks, and she averted her gaze, focusing on the movement of his hand. She couldn’t say the words.
“Beautiful.” He growled the words, his voice thick and strained. “You’re fucking beautiful. Anybody who tells you otherwise is an asshole who doesn’t deserve you anyway. Spread your legs, baby. Let me see.”
Another rush of heat raced up her neck. She had to be red as a tomato, but she did as he asked and spread her thighs, opening herself to his hot gaze. She had a feeling of being made of glass, wide open before him, and as vulnerable as a newborn baby. She’d never done this either, touched herself while a lover watched.
His eyes slid to half-mast, their heat burning through her. “I want to bury my face between your thighs. Do you know how torturous this is? Dip your fingers inside and taste yourself. Tell me what you taste like, baby. Tell me what I’m missing.”
Sliding her fingers inside made her moan. Fire licked along every nerve ending, making her extra sensitive. Her gaze glued to his hand, working his cock, and instead of her fingers, she imagined the fat head sliding inside of her. Her thighs shook with the need to come. Her eyes fluttered closed. She wanted, needed, and craved more but did as he asked. She pulled her fingers out and opened her eyes, gaze locked on his as she inserted them in her mouth. “A little sweet, a hint of tangy, kind of musky.”
He groaned, this one long and low, and squeezed his cock in his fist. “You’re killing me. I’m so fucking close.”
“Me too. So close.” She let out a shuddering breath, flicking her finger back and forth over her swollen clit.
“Come for me, baby. Let it go.” His voice shook, his hand working his cock faster and faster.
It took all of three strokes. Three tiny little flicks of her finger and her climax slammed into her, a series of luscious bubbles bursting inside of her. She gasped, breathless, hips arching off the chair, pushing into the pressure of her fingers. A litany of quiet moans left her mouth. All the while images of him flew through her mind, leaving her gasping yet still yearning.
Somewhere in the haze, Cade swore under his breath. She turned her head, needing to see, in time to watch him squeeze his eyes shut. The muscles of his abdomen jumped as his climax tore through him. Her pussy clenched in response. Hannah bit her lower lip. To know she could do to him what he did to her made her hot all over again.
They sat in silence, harsh breathing the only sound between them for several minutes. Cade moved first. He tucked himself back in his underwear, then rose from his seat, pants still open and hanging off his hips, and moved around the coffee table to her. Hands braced on the arms of her chair, he leaned over her and seized her mouth, kissing her hard. When she purred and leaned into him, he released her and straightened.
“Bath. I’d like to be a gentleman and pick you up and carry you in there, but I’m a mess at the moment.” He winked and held out a hand, his eyes hot and hungry. When she accepted, he pulled her to her feet and leaned into her ear, raking his teeth over the lobe. “You can clean me up; then I want you. All of you. I need to feel your skin against mine and your body wrapped around me.”
The hot promise of his words and the need all but screaming from his tone sent a shiver down her spine, settling warm and gooey between her thighs. She turned her head, meeting his gaze. “You aren’t…tired?”
He chuckled and winked at her, talking as he led her around the corner into the suite’s bedroom. “I’ve been dying to get my hands on you for months. I meant it when I said I’m addicted to you. Here you are, in the flesh. We’re going to talk about the time frame, because I’m not sure one night is enough to get you out of my system. I should order food before we get in the tub, because I don’t plan on getting dressed for a while.”
Chapter Four
It shouldn’t feel this good to hold her.
Seated behind Hannah in the two-person tub half an hour later, Cade took immense pleasure in playing with her hardening nipples. Rubbing them, pinching softly. She lay back against his chest, her head lolling on his shoulder, her hands caressing his thighs beneath the water. A comfortable companionship sat between them. The same lazy ease they’d found in their online chats had followed them here. Being with her was…easy. So far, neither had said much of anything. Words weren’t necessary.
Another brush of his fingers and her breathing hitched, a soft shudder moving through her. Despite what he’d told her when he brought her in here, he’d hoped they could relax a bit. As much as he wanted her, he didn’t want to rush into this. Maybe they could talk, and he’d learn something about her that would untie the knot in his chest. She held certain things back from him and it made him nervous. He’d be stupid to assume she was different from anybody else. She could be another Amelia for all he knew.
Except her curves fit against the hard planes of his body like a glove. Her soft hands on his body were a salve on a wound. He needed her to keep making that sound. He pinched her left nipple, and she gasped, dropping her head back onto his shoulder. His cock hardened against her back. He’d had an erection for days now. Everything about her aroused the hell out of him. She could be so soft and understated, yet she had a bold side that surprised him. Her curves drove him mad. Instead of the stick-thin figures of the women in his circles, she had real curves, and he wanted his hands and his cock all over every inch of her. He wanted as much of her as he could get before he had to go home, back to his lonely life. It didn’t help she shivered against him like nobody had ever touched her like this before.
He nipped at her neck. “I’m trying very hard to be good and resist you, but I can’t stand it. I want you too much.”
Her hands stilled beneath the water. “You brought me in here for a purpose.”
He trailed his lips up the side of her neck, flicking out his tongue to taste her salty skin. “Mmm. I hoped we could talk.”
A shiver ran through her. “A-about?”
“You. And us. We need to finish discussing terms. You haven’t told me whether or not this is for just tonight or if you agree to the two weeks.”
She stiffened. “Cade…”
“But it can wait, because I can’t.” He let his hand wander beneath the surface of the water. He found her slippery folds, the little hot button she had her fingers all over already swollen.
When they’d agreed to meet, he hadn’t anticipated the woman who’d shown up. He’d expected more of the same. A woman this side of too thin, who’d feed him a phony persona. Hannah had feminine curves he couldn’t get enough of, and she was real. Her boldness made him laugh. Her vulnerability called to a protectiveness within him. He’d hoped if he could get his hands on her for real, he could get his fill of her and end the insanity. Back home, he couldn’t think about anything but her and warning bells had begun to sound in his head. He liked her. Too much.
He’d been wrong. One night would never be enough. He had a feeling he could lie with her in the dark, no sex at all, and still not get enough. Now, the simple, innocent sound of her whimpers drove him mad. Her body came alive beneath his touch. It made him want to roar from the damn rooftops or beat his chest.
He circled her clit, unable to resist teasing her. When she moaned and rocked her hips forward, he plunged two fingers inside of her. As he pumped them in and out, he nibbled any part of her he could reach, her neck, her shoulder, the curve of her jaw.
“I want to be here, Hannah. So damn deep inside you. I want to know the sounds you make when it’s me inside you instead of your fingers, and I want to know what you feel like clamping down around me when you come.”
“God, yes.” She gasped, arching her back. Her hips rocked in time with the gentle thrust of his fingers. The harder he thrust into her, the harder she pushed against his hand. He let her have the moment. He couldn’t help himself. She was so damn beautiful. When the movement of her hips became a desperate jerking and her breathing grew harsh and ragged, he pulled his fingers away. Wh
en she went, he wanted to go with her, wanted to be buried deep inside of her, so he could absorb every luscious shudder.
The fingers of her left hand clamped around his thigh. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
He nuzzled her cheek, her earlobe, all the while sliding his hands beneath her bottom. “You want me, baby?”
Her head rocked on his shoulder. “Need, Cade. I need you. Don’t stop.”
“What’s the magic word?” It might be cruel to enjoy tormenting her as much as he did, but he couldn’t help himself. Watching her was addicting, even more so than their late-night chats. Every moan or sigh or shudder only magnified his own need. He wanted to make sure she never forgot this exchange. Maybe he’d never see her again, but he wanted her to look back on her time with him and be glad it happened.
He flicked his tongue over her earlobe, then bit down softly. “Say it.”
Her hips jerked, her head banging back against his shoulder. “Fuck me!”
He slid down in the tub, arched his hips, and plunged into her. He meant to tease her, but her heat clamped around him, and she thrust against him, a wild bucking that drove him beyond the boiling point. He gripped her hips, trying to hold her still, to take it slow and prolong the pleasure for both of them. God, if he came inside of her…
But she was hot and slick. She took what she wanted with abandon, used his cock to satiate her needs as if he were a toy, hers to do with as she pleased, and it was sexy as hell. Her response fueled the fire burning through him, and he lost his mind.
He thrust harder, pushing deeper. Nothing mattered but the desperate need to shove her to the edge and take her over it. The sounds of their lovemaking filled the room. Her quiet whimpers, the sloshing of the water over the sides of the tub. In no less than a dozen strokes, her body stiffened against him. A high-pitched cry tore from her throat, one he’d heard a dozen times in the last week. Her body clamped around him, and he lost his grip on what little control he’d had. His orgasm rushed up in a blinding, white-hot flash that had him moaning her name and shaking along with her.
She collapsed back on his chest, and they sat together in stunned silence. Their harsh, erratic breathing filled the space between them. As his body came down from the high, the realization slid over him, like slamming into a wall at two hundred miles an hour. The condom. He’d forgotten the condom. He’d lost his head and emptied himself inside her.
He swore under his breath, his limbs shaking for an entirely different reason. “Hannah, I…”
The rest of the words wouldn’t come. Panic clawed its way through his chest. He never lost his head. He planned everything, for crying out loud, right down to their affair. He never got so lost in a woman’s touch he forgot everything but her, much less important stuff like condoms. He’d learned that lesson the hard way, and not once in the last thirteen years had he ever forgotten.
Until Hannah. Twice now he’d done something out of character for him. He didn’t do flings with anonymous women, either, and he certainly didn’t fly to another state for the need to see them.
“It’s okay.” She reached back, stroking his cheek, soothing and soft, as if she understood his sudden panic. Or maybe she could read his damn mind. “I’m on the pill.”
He released a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding.
Hannah turned at the waist to look back at him. Brow furrowed, her gaze darted over his face, as if she searched for something specific. She sat up and shifted in the bath, turning around and straddling his thighs. “How many times have you been used?”
Her question held a bold statement. It told him in no uncertain terms she saw him, really saw him, in a way no woman had in a long time. That prospect alone had his heart hammering his rib cage, but her words also showed him her heart in the process. Only someone who’d been used would know the ache it left inside. That she even cared told him a lot about her character and made him feel somehow closer to her.
He shouldn’t tell her the truth. He should make up an excuse, talk his way out of this one. The truth left his mouth anyway. He wanted her to know where he stood, but deep down, he couldn’t help himself. Talking to her had always come easy. She never judged.
“A few.” He drew a deep breath and released it, the faces flitting like ghosts through his memory. “Women throw themselves at me. Most of them want me for one of two things. They either want my name and the money that comes with it, or they want me to be their arm candy. Many of the single women in my world want rich husbands to help them maintain their lavish lifestyle. Some of the older ones want toys.”
She studied him for a moment, her gaze this side of worried as it worked over his face. Then a playful grin bloomed. She slid a hand down his arm, squeezing his left bicep, and winked. “Can’t say I blame them there, GQ. You do make very pretty arm candy.”
“Minx.” He leaned forward, scraped his teeth over her shoulder, and nipped his way up the side of her neck. “Are you telling me you’re using me?”
“Oh, I plan on using this body to my full advantage.” She let out a little purr he found damn erotic and tipped her head to the side, giving him better access. Her hands slid down his chest, a slow, sensual slide of her slippery, wet fingers, then stopped. Her voice lowered to a vulnerable murmur between them. “Though I have no desire to show it off to anyone else.”
Her unspoken claim hung in the air between them, catching Cade in that painful place in his chest. The lonely part of him that connected to her in the darkness of night, when the day had been long and he wasn’t in the mood to play. When their conversations took a turn for the emotional. When he spilled his heart’s desires because he couldn’t help himself, because talking to her came as easily as breathing.
An air of somberness rose over the room, and he lifted his head from her throat. He had to give her this one. As his gaze met hers, the playfulness of the moment before evaporated. “I don’t want you sleeping with anyone else either.”
She studied him for a long moment. He’d noted the same odd, searching gaze more than once since she’d arrived an hour ago. Her gaze would skirt over his face, something working behind her eyes he could see but not gain access to. He could read people like the back of his hand, but Hannah hid her cards well. It made him wonder. Would she ever open herself enough to trust him?
They’d never shared personal details in their chats. He’d told her the basics once, that he was a Harley-riding lawyer from California, but kept the full truth to himself. She hadn’t wanted the details, and he hadn’t wanted her to know them. He’d played a role, same as her. They had, however, spent long hours talking, about books, about life, sharing hopes, dreams, likes and dislikes. Even a few day-to-day frustrations. The kinds of things you shared with someone you were getting to know on an intimate level. Sharing things with someone he thought he’d never see came easily, especially with her.
It hadn’t bothered him he didn’t know her name, her family, her background. Until now. Until he sat watching her struggle with herself. Every once in a while, the façade would come down, and he’d catch a glimpse of the real Hannah, the woman. He had to admit, he yearned to know her softer side, yearned to learn what it would take to move beyond the walls she erected against him. The need scared the hell out of him.
Deep down, in a place he ought to wall back up, he yearned to see her, all of her, for the reprieve he suspected they’d both find in being themselves, and not what somebody wanted them to be. She did feel it, the pressure to be someone other than herself, or she wouldn’t have lied about her looks. Someone had made her feel less than, and he hated it, because he knew what it was like not to meet someone’s expectations.
Hannah dropped her gaze to his chest. A soft pink flush suffused her cheeks, and she hitched a shoulder in a halfhearted fashion. “You’re it. You’re the only man I’m seeing right now, and you have been for a while. Maybe that’s pathetic, but it’s the truth.”
Ah, there it was, the soft heart she couldn’t hide. Or pe
rhaps she let down a wall or two. He had to admit her words made him want to shout from the rooftops again. For these two weeks, she was his.
She’d made the demand, but he had to admit it had merit. He’d been somebody’s plaything one time too many. It was ironic to make that sort of demand in an arrangement like theirs, but he needed it as much as she did. For two weeks, she’d be his to enjoy. He could have his fill of her and get her out of his system.
The little devil on his shoulder laughed at him. Then why did the thought of never seeing her again, of going back to what they’d been, have his stomach dropping into his toes?
Ignoring the feeling, he hooked a finger beneath her chin, forced her gaze back to his, and offered her a smile.
“It’s not pathetic. It’s human, and it puts us on level playing field. Neither am I. I’d even take a guess it’s for the same reason. Like I said, I know what it feels like to be used, so I understand why you asked. For the record, though, I have no desire to be with anybody else right now. I just want you.” He released her chin and flashed a smile he didn’t feel. He liked her, more than a little, and it scared the hell out of him. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starved. How about we get dried off, and I’ll put in a call to room service?”
He didn’t wait for her answer but set her off his lap and rose from the tub.
* * *
Hannah stared as Cade exited the bath, grabbed an oversized fluffy towel from the metal rack, and held it open for her. His sudden change in mood hadn’t escaped her notice. Their conversation had gone down a heavy road, because she’d gone and done what she shouldn’t have—she’d voiced an insecurity. The walls had started coming down between them. She hadn’t expected sex with him to be this intense. The man perplexed her. The playfulness they’d developed in their chats had followed them into their real exchanges, and being with him came as naturally as the beating of her heart.
