by Liz Crowe
“Wait,” she mumbled before he covered her mouth, silencing her with a kiss so intense the room actually got dark. “Wow,” she whispered into his lips. “You’re damn good at that.”
“Hmm, what?” His voice sounded raw, rough. He smiled and her heart gave up the ghost, finally, forcing her into action. Panic nearly suffocated her when she realized what she was about to do. As if sensing it, he released her, keeping his hands on her knees but giving her some space. She sucked in a breath.
“Shame on you.” Her voice shook as she tried to be glib. “Kissing me like some kind of gold-medal champion. You just want back in my pants.” She put a hand out, meaning to push him, but he grabbed it and hauled her to her feet along with him. Helena realized this moment could be life-changing but was unwilling to calculate the cost or regret. His voice struck a deep well of desire in her, not only to let him do it, but to never let him out of her sight again.
He spoke, rattling her nerves even further. “Guilty. But that’s not all I plan to get into with you, Turner.” She tried not to shiver and lost the battle at the moment he brushed her lips with his once more. He held her close, and the calm he exuded poured over her nerve endings like a waterfall. She kept her arms in front of her, knowing if she did anything else, she’d be lost forever.
“I don’t like you.” She spoke into his chest, taking deep breaths of his delicious scent. Every fiber of her being cried out with relief to be back in his arms. “Not at all. You’re a bossy know-it-all and too rich for your own good.”
He smiled and led her back to the couch. “Maybe. But I like you. And my like beats your don’t like by a lot. Just watch.” He loomed over her then pushed her down, dropped to his knees and tugged the soft flannel pants down to her feet in one quick motion. “Kissing isn’t the only thing I medaled at.”
“I’ll be the judge of that, mister.” He shoved her knees apart and lowered his lips to her sex. She gasped. “You are so pushy, you know that? Oh my God, don’t stop!” She shifted, sighed as his lips closed around her clit. Fingers slipped inside her, reaching high, touching areas she didn’t even know existed while he kept his exquisite suction against the small bud of enervated flesh.
Propping her heels against his back, she lifted her hips, needing more, willing him deeper. He groaned against her, changed the angle of his fingers, and brushed something that made her squeal with delight and thrust against his mouth. Her body tensed, then released. Still gripping him with her thighs, she fell back against the couch, gasping and embarrassed.
“Holy Christ.” She put a shaky hand over her face.
He lifted his gleaming eyes and shiny, wet lips and launched up her body without a word, plundering her mouth, pressing her down onto the couch. For the first time in her adult life she didn’t mind the taste of her own sex, if it meant she could kiss him forever. She sighed and parted her legs, relishing everything about him. He broke the kiss, his smile crooked and endearing, his gaze full of meaning she wasn’t ready to explore. “I’ll take that as a compliment. But it’s still just me. No gods in the room. Unless of course you want to worship me.”
“Shut up about yourself, will you? You have too many clothes on,” she muttered around his lips.
“Finally, something we can agree on.”
She grinned and started popping the buttons on his shirt. She flicked at a copper-colored nipple, making him moan and thrust his hips against her.
The familiar velvety-smooth skin of his cock made her sigh again. She brushed her thumb over it, felt fluid pearled at the tip. He shuddered then stood so he could slip his tux trousers all the way off.
“That’s quite the impressive tool you have there.” She put her arms behind her head. To her surprise, he reddened and shrugged. “Oh, damn. You’re shy? How cute.”
He knelt back between her legs, his own gaze dark and admiring. “No, not shy. Just worried.” He licked his way up her body, tugging her ratty sweatshirt over her head, sucking one nipple then the other into his mouth. Every touch of his lips sent tremors of pleasure and something resembling fear to the base of her brain.
“Worried?” she asked then gasped, threading her fingers through his hair, shoving fear aside in favor of more pleasant thoughts. “What about?”
Dustin looked up from her breasts, propped his arms on either side of her head and covered her mouth with his. The room spun from the force of his kiss. She broke away, wondering how in the world she would ever be the same. This man would kill her, no doubt about it. He would use his many skills with her body, get what he wanted and be on his way, leaving her heart in tiny pieces around her feet. “Dustin…” She tried to push him away, but put no real effort behind it.
“I’m worried you won’t respect me after this.” He grinned and sat up, his beautiful eyes wide and dark with desire. The remains of her resolve melted inside their green depths.
“Worry about that after you fuck me silly, why don’t ya?” She meant it, but left the words “And please don’t ever leave me” unspoken. For now. “I mean, you know after you put a condom on that thing.” Hiding her real emotions behind a wall of flippancy came easy. Nearly as easy as the tears formed behind her eyes. But she clamped down on that, unwilling to let him see how much these last weeks had affected her. How his very existence was blowing apart her senses and her strength and all the logic that had sustained her for so long.
“Happy to oblige,” he whispered. “Hang on.”
She couldn’t hold back the giggle at the surreal nature of watching the handsomest, most successful and sought-after new-minted bachelor in the Midwest fumble around in his pocket for his wallet, then a condom, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process. She bit her lip as she watched him roll the latex over his impressive shaft, her body zinging form head to toe with anticipated pleasure.
This is such a bad idea. The voice spoke in her head before she silenced it by reaching for him, pulling him down on top of her as she shifted position on the couch. His lips hovered near her ear. “Glad I can entertain you,” he said, low and growly before roaming down her neck and to her breasts once more, nuzzling, sucking, making her hips thrust and her back arch but keeping the one part of him she wanted separate. Her body pulsed, thrummed, and her ears buzzed as he slid a hand down between her legs. She parted them, let him touch her, rub her clit until she begged him to do more, stop teasing and get serious. “Inside me,” she gasped. “Now. Please.”
He kissed her as he propped himself on his hands, but let the head of his cock merely tease her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, angled her hips and tore her lips from his. “What are you waiting for?” Her voice sounded harsh, needy and she hated it, let a small thrill of anger run through her mind. But his soft smile and the honest emotion in his eyes made her shiver. “I need you, Dustin. Please.”
His face changed then, and she saw in him the man she wanted. And that realization made her gulp, hesitate. Because needing a man was simply not on her agenda. Not even the amazing one poised between her legs. Poised to rip her world to shreds. She shut her eyes.
Dustin wrestled around and yanked his inner grownup control away from the lusty, teenaged boy that wanted to simply fuck her. To own her, make her cry his name and beg for more. He clenched his jaw and stared at her as her huge blue eyes sent a different message than her lush, amazing body. Her legs held him tight, her nipples were hard peaks and he could smell her—the rich, heady pheromone of female desire swirled in his head, bringing that raving teenaged boy to a near painful point of no return. He broke away from her and sat, his legs shaking with the effort to maintain his distance. His cock throbbed, his balls ached but he would not do this. Not after what he saw in her gaze.
She may want him, but she would not really be with him. Not ever. Something in her would resist and fight him, making him insane but at the same time driving him equally mad with lust. He groaned at his own weakness. Then again when she propped a foot on his lap, letting her other knee drop to the side, expo
sing the pink perfection of her body to his gaze.
“Problem?” She sounded pissed. But he’d gotten used to that. He watched as she slid a hand between her legs, touched the beautiful flesh he’d tasted, wanted to have so badly. She slipped a finger into herself, then rubbed her clit, fast, with purpose. He swallowed hard as she used her other hand to pinch one of her huge amazing nipples, arched her back and kept stroking, the rhythm perfect, sexy and mind-blowing.
He ran a hand up the leg draped across his, kept watching as her hips bucked and she cried out, the heady aroma of her arousal wrapping around him like a blanket. She calmed, stilled, and he grabbed her hand to pull her up, sucking the fingers she’d used to rub herself to orgasm into his mouth. She put her other hand against his face, never breaking eye contact. In one smooth movement she straddled him, staying up on her knees, the heat of her pussy igniting yet more fire on his skin and in his lizard brain.
He looked up at her. “I won’t do this, Helena. Not if you don’t really want it.”
She smiled, reached down to position his cock then lowered herself onto him, one glorious, exquisite inch at a time. He gripped her hips. “Jesus,” he groaned as the tight glove of her body enveloped him. His ears kept buzzing, blocking sound. His vision dimmed.
“Now, isn’t this much nicer?” She sighed, raising up to release him until just the tip of his cock still remained. Words escaped him as his body responded but his brain shut down. He grabbed one of her luscious breasts, sucked and tugged at her nipple and shoved up hard, needing to be inside her to feel the perfection of her all at once.
“Yes, it is,” he muttered as he moved to the other lovely breast. “Very.”
“Hmm…” Her hum of satisfaction as she ground down onto him, taking his entire length inside her, nearly blew his head off but that was nothing compared to the soft release as she rose again, making him whimper out loud with need. “I thought so.”
He gripped her hips, looked up into her eyes. “I wanted this from the first second I laid eyes on you.” His voice caught as she slid down again, letting his pubic bone press against her clit. “God damn, woman, you are enough to make a man…ah…yes.” She rose and sat again. Faster, holding onto his shoulders. Her flesh grew hot under his hands and he watched, fascinated, as her fair skin flushed red and her pussy spasmed, grabbing his cock so tight he gasped.
“Dustin,” she whispered, eyes closed and head back, the long line of her neck exposed and luscious.
The sound of his name escaping her lips tore it. He leaned back still clutching her hips, let her pound down on him, use him to bring on her own shuddering, beautiful climax. Her breasts bounced in front of his eyes, and he sensed his own orgasm gathering strength at the base of his spine, roaring up and making him grunt with the effort to hold back.
Looking back, he’d recall everything about this moment. The way the moonlight split the blinds behind her, lit her hair and one side of her face as her body gave a pulse and shudder, surprising him then making him rear up and hold her close, press his face to her breasts. Sweat slicked their skin. Her final convulsive spasms sent him right over the edge, groaning along with her as his cock stiffened and released. His hips kept moving, his mouth sought hers as she leaned down to meet him. This seemingly most intimate connection of lips made his brain spin. And he knew, then, that his life as he knew it before was over.
She shivered as his skin pebbled in the aftermath of the monster orgasm. His eyes burned and brain fuzzed but he was damned if was going to let go of her. Finally, she rose, releasing his cock, and collapsed on the coach with a moan of satisfaction.
“A fine tool and a man who knows how to use it. Lucky me.”
He sat back, trying to calm his breathing. The moment of truth had arrived. And he dreaded it. She clambered off the couch, stumbled her way into the kitchen, the curvy beauty of her waist and hips making him breathless again. He put a hand over his eyes. Now what, Prufrock? Gonna march in there and make her wear the damn engagement ring? You know that won’t fly. As much as you want it to.
Helena clutched the edge of the sink, gulped down some water. Her body still hummed with energy. Damn, the man was amazing. And she had to get him out of here. Out of her life. She had no business fucking around with—and skirting dangerously close to getting attached to—Dustin Bloody Prufrock. No matter what he said about the ex-future Mrs. Prufrock. It would never work between them. It was up to her to make the next moments their last. That or risk a heartbreak she was not willing to endure.
She looked up and watched him as he silently wrapped the condom in a paper towel and tossed it in the garbage bin. She squealed when he grabbed her hips and pressed his still half-mast erection against her ass. “Cut it out. You aren’t that young.”
He turned her around, pulled her against his body. “You make me this way, Turner. So blame yourself. But first, we feast.” He tugged on his trousers, picked up his beer from the table and flipped on her television. Smiling when ESPN flashed to life. “Nice. Now I’m really fucking horny.” He waggled his dark eyebrows at her.
“Yeah, I have that effect a lot. I like beer and sports.” She shivered, her teeth rattling with nerves and cold. He grabbed his abandoned dress shirt and draped it across her shoulders. She stuck her arms in it, reveling in its soft caress against her skin and the hint of his subtle cologne. She shoved down the nasty comment about spoiled boys letting their custom-made tuxedo shirts get girl cooties and joined him on the couch.
The resolve she’d talked herself into to make him leave, and leave her alone forever, faded when he tugged her close. His voice rumbled through her again. “And smoking hot, don’t forget.” She shut her eyes, feeling his lips against her hair. “And mine.” She pulled away and glared at him. “I mean, in as much as someone as independent and fabulous as you can be, that is. Jesus, Turner, prickly much? Just let me have this moment, will ya? And pass that tikka masala before I starve to death.”
Chapter Eight
Eight Months Later
Helena shut her eyes as the restaurant closed in around her. This was not happening. There was no way this was happening. Not to her. Clenching her fists around the linen napkin in her lap, she forced herself to look at the gleaming platinum and emerald ring resting in a velvet box on her plate. Dustin stayed silent, sipping his beer, letting her absorb in that maddening, patient way of his. Damn the man and his seeming perfection. He was too good for her—on so many levels she couldn’t even begin to enumerate them. And now, this?
“No.” She kept her voice low.
“Reconsider,” he insisted, casual and unworried.
“No.” She stared at him while her heart tore into a million pieces. “It would never work.”
“I already know you’re an emotional cripple and sometimes high-maintenance pain in the ass, but I’m willing to overlook all that.”
“Fuck you.” She smiled at him.
Reaching forward, he grabbed both her hands, making every nerve ending sing with delight. “Later, I promise. I love you. Marry me.”
She tried to pull away, unwilling to admit anything, not now, when all she wanted in the entire world was to say the one word he wanted to hear. He held on tighter. “Look at me.” She did, willing the tears back. “I want to take care of you. To have babies with you. To grow old with you. To fuck and fight, then fuck again. I need you. I want to take care of you. Why can’t you accept that?” He wouldn’t let go of her. Typical.
“Take me home.” She jerked her hands away, stood and walked out. He placed her wrap around her bare shoulders against a sudden extreme chill. “You’re such a sap.” She slumped into his side. He whistled and a limo pulled up. She rolled her eyes.
“Shut up, Turner, and get in before I smack you and get arrested for beating a woman. Although once the cops meet you, they’ll set me free, I guarantee it.”
She sighed and climbed in. His single-minded focus on this…this…thing made her crazy in love all over again. She swallowed hard.
“No, Dustin. God! Are you deaf?”
“Tell me you don’t love me. Look me in the eyes, goddamn it, and say it.” He turned her so she had no choice.
“I-I’m— I don’t.” The tears betrayed her. “Shit.” She brushed them away. He gripped her hand and brought it to his lips.
“I can’t live without you and I won’t be anywhere else but with you.”
“Your parents.” They hated her. She knew it.
“Can go fuck themselves.”
“You are persistent, I’ll give you that.” She bit her lip.
“You have no idea.” He kissed her then, in that way he had that made her completely unglued. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him on top of her in the wide backseat.
“Oh, slutty, I knew you’d like the limo.” He grinned and tugged her dress aside to get at her nipple. She gave into his mouth, ran her palm along the bulge in his trousers and finally acknowledged it.
“I love you.” She heard it escape her lips, but still could not believe she was here in this moment. “But when I told you that I was flattered but that it was too soon, I meant it. And that was, um, a week ago.”
He looked up at her, his amazing green eyes full of feeling. “I know.”
“Where are we going anyway?” He’d returned his attention to her other painfully erect nipple. “Oh crap, Dustin, seriously. How long do we have in this car?”
“About thirty minutes.”
“Perfect.” She crawled out from underneath him and unzipped his trousers, releasing his beautiful, gleaming cock into the cool air. “Sit back, Prufrock. I’m gonna give you the ride of your life.” With one last significant look she went down on her knees, sucking his long shaft into her mouth. He groaned, fisted his hands in her hair and angled his hips, going deep toward the back of her throat. She relaxed, let him do it. Loving the sound he made.
