by Kali Argent
With her golden hair spread across the snow-white pillowcase and her fair skin flushed with arousal, she mesmerized him. God, she was so beautiful it almost hurt to look at her.
Crawling onto the mattress, he settled between her splayed thighs, pushing her legs even wider until her crease parted. The sight of her glistening pussy, coupled with her quiet whimpers, threw him into a spiral of lust, and he dropped his forehead to the center of her chest as he fought to regain some semblance of control.
“Fuck,” he cursed. “I don’t have a condom.”
Phoebe squirmed and quivered, rocking her hips toward him impatiently. “I’m on the pill, and well, you know I haven’t been with anyone but you in years.”
“Dom makes us get tested every year,” he said, lifting his head to look at her. “I haven’t been with anyone except you since my last lab results came back clean.”
“I trust you, Rayce.” Her arms circled his neck again. “I want this.”
Too far gone to deny either of them, Rayce dipped his head, capturing her mouth in a heated kiss, plunging his tongue deep between her swollen lips. As her moans became increasingly louder, he slid down her body, trailing his lips past her naval to the slick folds of her pussy.
“Gorgeous.” With a shudder of pure pleasure, he closed his lips around her swollen clit and flicked his tongue across the bundle of nerves in quick, short motions. “You’re so fucking wet, sugar. I could taste you all night.”
Phoebe’s panted moans echoed around the room, making his balls ache and his cock throb. He’d meant what he said. He could go on tasting her for days and never grow tired. Her pleasure was his pleasure, and he loved watching her fall apart.
“More,” she panted, threading her fingers through his hair to pull him closer as she arched up against his mouth. “Please, Rayce. Please.”
Her quiet pleas sent a jolt of electricity zipping down his spine, igniting the embers that burned in his belly. Many women had come and gone from his life over the years, but since he’d met Phoebe, he couldn’t remember a single one of them. Not their names, their faces, not the sound of their voices. She consumed his entire world, and to know how much she wanted him made him crazy with need.
Parting her slick folds, he eased one finger into her clenching opening, pumping into her in slow, languid movements. “What do you want, sugar?” Lifting her legs, he hooked them over his shoulders and pressed closer, lifting her hips to change the angle as he inserted a second finger. “Tell me what you want.”
She went wild, thrashing beneath him, her head whipping back and forth of the pillow. Both hands fisted in the sheets, she bucked into his hand, her eyes wide and glazed with desire.
“Please!” she cried again. “I need…I need…”
“Tell me,” he demanded, twisting his wrist and curling his fingers on the next inward stroke. “Tell me what you need, and I’ll give it to you.”
“You.”
Rayce shook his head. “Not good enough.”
Again, he closed his lips around the bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs and sucked hard. Using his mouth, his hands, his teeth, he pushed her higher, harder, not stopping until a rush of wet heat spilled into his palm.
“Tell me what you want,” he rasped, his voice deep and filled with gravel.
Still trembling from her release, Phoebe untangled her hands from the white sheets under her hips and lifted her arms in invitation. “I want you. All of you. Right now.”
“Good answer,” he murmured as he kissed his way up the soft skin on her stomach. “I can’t ever get enough of you. You make me crazy.”
Without words, she curled her arms around his neck, pulling him into a heated kiss that set his blood boiling and made his dick throb. Easing his fingers from her entrance, he lowered into the cradle of her hips, his aching shaft nestled between her folds. The slick heat that surrounded him pulled a strangled groan from deep in his chest, sending tendrils of ecstasy racing along his spine.
“Want you,” he murmured, breaking the kiss to nuzzle against the sensitive skin on her throat. “Open for me, sugar.”
Sliding his mouth lower, he caught her erect nipple between his teeth and tugged. Then he swirled his tongue over the hardened tip to soothe the sting. Phoebe bowed up from the mattress, her head back and her lips parted as her chest heaved with each gasping inhalation.
With his need growing and his patience waning, he didn’t know if he could be gentle. He needed her too much, and his control already dangled precariously by a frayed thread. One more moan, one more taste, and it would be all over for him.
As if plucking the thought from his head, Phoebe arched up from the mattress, her body quaking as she rocked against him. That thin, tattered thread snapped, and he slid an arm beneath her hips to flip her over and press her stomach into the tangled sheets. Kneeling behind her, he held her hips in a bruising grip, guiding her onto her hands and knees.
“Don’t move,” he commanded.
With a shaking hand, he gripped the base of his cock, guiding the head to her tight, quivering entrance. With is other hand, he caressed her back, down her side, and over her hip as he rocked into her slowly, invading her depths in measured increments. Damn, she was tight, her inner walls molding around him like a glove, squeezing him until his head started to spin.
Once seated, with his hips pressed firmly against her rounded backside, he began a slow grind. He tried to be gentle, to give her body time to adjust to the invasion, but as her cries grew in volume, his pace quickened. With each snap of his hips, she moaned and shook, his name falling from her lips like a prayer.
Phoebe met him thrust for thrust, pushing back into him with each demanding plunge. Her silky heat closed around his length, squeezing him, milking him in rhythmic waves. Cock throbbing, stomach clenching, heart pounding, he wound one arm around her middle and jerked her upright, holding her back to his chest as he sunk into her tight, gripping channel again and again.
Her head fell back, resting on his shoulder, and she moaned raggedly when his hands traveled down her stomach, caressing her sweat-dampened skin. Sitting back on his heels, he pulled her onto his lap and pushed her thighs apart, reaching between them to tease the top of her crease. Parting her, he slid two fingers through her slickness and found her clitoris without error. Thrusting up into her, he drew quick, hard circles against the bundle of nerves with his middle finger, steering her closer and closer to the edge.
Phoebe’s ragged breaths and rising moans filled his ears. Her burning skin scorched him. Sweet and creamy, her taste still lingered on his tongue. The woman enveloped him, overwhelmed his senses…consumed him, until the only thing that existed was her.
The fire raged out of control, dissolving the last sliver of his control, and Rayce thrust hard and fast, driving into her drenched core with fast, wild strokes. Their breaths mingled, her moans echoing his own, and soon, he found himself at the precipice of an earth-shattering orgasm.
Gripping her hair in one hand, he jerked her head back to expose the column of her throat. He kissed and nipped at the smooth skin, hitting every one of her sweet spots as he threw his hips forward with a bone-jarring intensity.
When he reached her ear, nipping the lobe between his teeth, Phoebe called out his name and stiffened in his arms. Her velvety walls tightened, convulsing around his throbbing dick, pulling him toward the edge with her.
Holding her tight to his chest, he pressed his brow to her nape and groaned, shuddering hard and whispering her name as he released a volley of seed within her clenching depths.
Sweaty, exhausted, and utterly content, he eased from Phoebe’s limp body and shifted around to sit with his back against the hard, wooden headboard. Lifting his sweet pixie into his lap, he cradled her close, peppering kisses over the top of her head as he drew languid circles on her dewy skin with his fingertips.
Phoebe was his. He’d do anything for her, be whatever she needed him to be—friend, lover, confidant, protector. Every
day, he’d try to be just a little bit better, just a little more deserving. He’d move mountains and redirect rivers.
He’d learn how to cook.
Whatever she needed to be happy, he’d give it to her.
“I love you, Phoebe Keller,” he whispered against her temple as she dozed in his lap, “and I’m never letting you go.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
“I’m going downstairs to get coffee.” Phoebe pulled her soft, pink hoodie on and turned in a small circle, looking for her tennis shoes. “Do you want anything?”
“If you give me five minutes to shower, I’ll come with you.” Rayce still lounged on the bed, the white sheet tucked between his legs. Despite his offer, he didn’t even attempt to move.
“I’m just going down to the hotel café. I have my phone on me, and I shouldn’t be gone more than a few minutes.” Shuffling over to the bed, she bent over him to kiss his cheek. “There are still plenty of people around, and the café is within view of the registration counter. I’ll be fine, love.” She smiled and rubbed the ends of their noses together. “Take your shower and relax.”
“Okay, sugar.” Sliding his fingers around the back of her neck, he pulled her down for a proper kiss. “Just be careful.”
“Promise.”
It took another ten minutes and several more lingering kisses before she made it out the door and down the long, empty hallway to the elevators. God, he kissed like a dream, and his touch ignited the embers that always seemed to burn just below the surface these days. Their connection went much deeper than just physical release, though. She’d spent the past four years writing about love, manufacturing it on the page, but she’d never really felt it herself.
Not until Rayce.
It wasn’t hearts and stars and singing cherubs. It hadn’t been a sudden epiphany that had blindsided her. It wasn’t like any of the things she wrote in her books, and she wasn’t even sure she could put the feeling into words. Loving Rayce was easy, as natural as breathing, and it took no effort. It was comfortable and familiar, a warm, safe haven where she could be herself, even when she was at her worst.
She had thought she’d been in love with Tucker, but now, looking back on it, she knew that hadn’t been the case. She hadn’t loved Tucker. In the beginning, she’d been infatuated, maybe a little smitten. She’d been in love with the idea of love, and she’d tried so desperately to make it work, but she’d only been fooling herself.
Relationships took work. Love didn’t. Now that she knew the difference, she couldn’t believe she’d wasted so much time and energy on an entitled, self-centered prick like Tucker Cromwell.
The elevator slowed, stopping with a gentle bounce on the main level of the hotel. The slight dip always tickled her stomach, and she placed a hand over her bellybutton, laughing as the doors slid apart to give her a fantastic view of the fountain in the center of the lobby.
“Phoebe!” A tall, slender woman dressed in a pair of pink, fleece pajamas waved a hand over her head. “Phoebe, over here.”
Phoebe didn’t recognize the woman, but the badge on the lanyard around her neck proclaimed her to be a reader. While she’d had every intention of grabbing a caffé mocha and returning to her room, she smiled graciously and waved back. Ten minutes wouldn’t hurt anything. Just a quick conversation, then grab her coffee and disappear for the rest of the evening.
“Hi,” she said, greeting the woman. “I was just going to get some coffee.”
“Oh, I’ll come with you.”
A few other readers expressed their interest in coffee as well, and by the time Phoebe made it to the counter of the café, she’d amassed a group of seven people following her. After she’d ordered her caffé mocha, she asked everyone else to step forward and place their order, insisting their coffee break was on her. It wouldn’t put a dent in her bank account, and she liked doing nice things for her readers, even small ones like paying for their drinks.
After all, if it weren’t for them, she wouldn’t have a job.
Coffees in hand, they found a couple of four-top tables and pushed them together, making sure there was enough room for everyone. Ten minutes into their conversation—mostly introductions and fun facts about everyone’s hometowns—her phone chimed in the front pocket of her hoodie.
Rayce wanted to know where she was and what was taking so long.
After shooting off a quick text that she was in the café talking to readers, she gathered everyone for a group selfie and sent that as well, just so he’d know she had plenty of people around her. Appeased, he texted back, reminding her to be careful, but also, to enjoy herself. She’d started to put her phone away when it chimed again, this time, with a message that made her heart flutter.
Love you.
She texted back, telling him the same, then put her phone away so as not to be rude. The conversation at the table had moved on to books, one of Phoebe’s favorite topics. In her element, she offered her opinions, asked questions of her own, and posed theories about upcoming novels from favorite authors.
“Phoebe?”
Looking up, Phoebe offered the newcomer a smile. “Hey, Jonas. Want to join us?”
His gaze darted around the group, and she swore the blood drained from his face right before her eyes. Maybe he was remembering the show Rayce had put on at the book signing.
“Don’t worry,” she assured him. “We’ll let you keep your clothes on.”
“Unless you’re into that kind of thing,” the woman who had initially called to her from the lobby added, and everyone laughed.
The woman’s name was Theresa, and she ran a book blog that provided thoughtful and insightful book reviews. She also offered advertising space and accepted guest posts from industry professionals. She was smart, witty, and dedicated, qualities Phoebe greatly admired.
After a bit of prodding, Jonas finally grabbed a chair from a nearby table and placed it right next to Phoebe. “I’m really sorry about what happened earlier,” he began.
Phoebe held her hand up to cut him off. “We’ll talk about it later.”
Seven pairs of curious eyes had turned her way, and she didn’t want to have to explain to readers what had happened. Not only would she never bad-mouth another author, no matter if they deserved it or not, but it would also be admitting to seven strangers where she lived. She had enough problems already without adding to her plate.
So, of course, Elena chose that moment to come strolling into the café.
“I’m sorry,” Jonas whispered, his eyes downcast. “I can get rid of her.”
“Elena!” several women called in unison, unaware of the growing tension settling over Phoebe.
“Too late,” she muttered under her breath to Jonas.
“Phoebe, I actually wanted to ask a favor from you,” Theresa said, unknowingly throwing her a lifeline. “I’m hosting a blog party next month. There’s going to be something of a scavenger hunt for readers with three top prizes being offered to the winners.”
“I’d love to donate something,” Phoebe offered at once. She loved promotion where she didn’t really have to do anything. “What do you need?”
“Actually, I already purchased a few of your paperbacks to be put into the gift baskets.” She grinned sheepishly. “I was just wondering if you’d be willing to sign them.”
“Oh, sure.” Even better. She loved getting mail, but shipping things to other people was a whole other thing. She really hated going to the post office.
“I have them here, if that’s okay.” Theresa lifted a bright purple tote onto the table and rummaged through it, pulling out two copies apiece of each of Phoebe’s books.
“Absolutely. Jonas, could you watch my coffee?”
When he nodded, Phoebe thanked him before following Theresa to a vacant table behind the rest of the group. It gave Phoebe more room to spread out as she signed, and more importantly, it ensured no one spilled coffee on any of the pages.
“You know, if you ever need books or swag for gi
veaways, just let me know. I’m always happy to donate.”
“Thank you.” Theresa stood beside the table, hands folded together in front of her. “I really appreciate that.”
“Well, I appreciate what you do, so I guess that makes us even.”
“Do you want to sit here for a minute?” She glanced over her shoulder, eyeing the rest of the group. “You seem a little…stressed.”
Theresa was observant, and Phoebe was grateful for the offer, but she couldn’t just hide and hope the problem went away. “Thanks, but I’m okay. I just have really bad resting bitch face.”
Laughing, Theresa shook her head. “You really don’t, but I get it.” Her tone turned serious again, and she moved a little closer and lowered her voice. “I heard about the argument at the reader dinner.”
A groan built in her chest, but Phoebe squashed it down. “It was just a misunderstanding. We’re sorting it out.”
The woman shrugged as she began gathering the signed books from the table. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I think you have every right to be angry. I’m sorry that happened to you, Phoebe. That must be really frightening.”
It was, but Phoebe really didn’t want to talk about it, especially not with a stranger. She thanked Theresa again for her concern, making it clear the subject was closed to further discussion, then helped her carry the paperbacks to the larger table. As Theresa returned the books to her tote, Phoebe rounded the end of the table, intending to resume her place beside Jonas, but stopped short when she found Elena sitting in her seat.
She had kind of hoped her friend would be gone by the time she’d finished signing those books.
Poor Jonas looked like he wanted to die, his usual smile replaced with a pensive expression. Phoebe wanted to assure him that everything would be fine, but she wouldn’t lie. She’d had time to think about it when she’d been sitting in her room alone, missing Rayce, and she’d decided he’d been right. What Elena had done was inexcusable. She’d not only put Phoebe at risk, but possibly her neighbors as well.
It hadn’t been an accident, not in the strictest sense. Elena had known what she was doing. If the situation had been reversed, Elena would have been furious. She’d have raged and made Phoebe feel about two inches tall, and Phoebe would have deserved it.
