by Lynda Aicher
“Yeah,” she said, nodding. “You sound just like that.”
Their stare-down lasted for another second before he flopped back in the chair to glare at the ceiling. His sigh was deep and exhausted when it gushed from his chest. He rubbed his eyes. “What are we doing?”
Good question. One that was too deep and murky to answer right then.
She stood between his spread legs and studied him from his defeated, tired pose down to his wrinkled clothes and bare feet. Her gaze traveled around the room to the full bookshelves and masculine accessories and saw everything she’d missed before. There were no photos that told a story of family and love or mementos that held memories and meaning. There was nothing personal in the entire room that defined it as his.
Her breath hitched and she ached for him. Not just sexually, but for how alone he was. Lost almost. He didn’t let it show, not when others were watching. She hadn’t seen it herself until all of this happened. Until now.
Unguarded, it was all etched on his face. The pain and weariness that was usually shoved behind the controlled mask he wore. In many ways, he reminded her of her sister. Vanessa had retreated behind her Ice Queen shell for years, letting few in, including Liv.
He’d dropped his hand to the chair but hadn’t moved since. Was he waiting for her to retreat? To run away because he’d been short with her? Not happening. She’d come down to help and she could do that.
The cool air reminded her that she was still naked. She didn’t care. With a slow settling of determination, she lowered herself to the floor. The rug was soft beneath her knees, his slacks smooth under her palms. His thigh muscles tensed as she glided her hands up the sides then around to his hips.
“Liv.”
The sharp note of warning held enough question to keep her going. His breath stalled when she searched out his chest with the intent to memorize it. She ticked off the curve of his pectoral muscles, the low slope under his ribcage down to his abs before she reached his belt buckle.
His head jerked up, mouth parted but silent. She held his gaze and slipped the rich leather through the buckle.
She palmed his hard length, and his hips twitched, a low moan filling the air. Protest or encouragement? His belt slipped through the loops with minimal resistance and clunked to the area rug when she dropped it. She sensed him watching her every move now, but she didn’t rush it. He’d savored her, and she wanted to do the same.
The zipper purred a slow announcement as she opened his pants then tugged his shirt out. He gripped the arms of the chair, fingers flexing with every button she released. His skin seemed to scorch her palms when she finally reached it.
Toned muscles and silky flesh met her everywhere she explored. Not overdone or obnoxious but fit. Smooth, except for the trail of dark hair that made an enticing line from his belly button to the band of his briefs. She ran the tips of her fingers in the downy hair, her nails grazing the skin beneath.
“Liv.”
The throaty desperation carried in her name let her know she had him. It was heady and amazing to see him open to her. Wanting her touch. She pressed a kiss to the small dip between his pectoral muscles. Another at the base of his sternum. She swirled the tip of her tongue around his navel until he lifted his hips and grunted. One peek through her lashes had the fire returning in her blood.
There was power in his dark gaze, a command that had faltered for a moment but was now back. “Suck me.”
She inhaled a harsh breath through her nose, his musky scent filling her. The tone of his voice matched the desire that melted her. His order could’ve been abrasive or demeaning but it wasn’t. Not when she wanted nothing more than to give him what he wanted.
She moved down his abdomen, nudged his pants out of the way and mouthed his hard length through his cotton briefs. His hips jerked, dick twitched, and the distinctive scent of his arousal empowered her.
Yeah, she wanted this, too. So much.
With an impatient flick of her hands, she tugged his briefs down and closed her mouth over the rounded head of his erection.
Chapter Sixteen
Noah dropped his head back and thrust his hips up to push deeper into the heat of Liv’s mouth. Hot, wet, sucking force centered on his glans until he had to jerk back to escape the sensation.
Christ. He forced his eyes open so he could look down at Liv as she took him in once again. The rumble of her low hum vibrated around his dick to shoot into his balls. Her hand was fisted around the base, lips stretched to accommodate his girth. The site of his dick disappearing into her mouth was the most erotic thing he’d seen in years.
Nothing he’d witnessed at The Den compared to this simple act: Liv on her knees giving him pleasure. The rush of pure possessiveness gripped him hard and immediately. The thought of her touching another man like this fired his buried drive to mark her as his for everyone to see.
She met his eyes as she pulled off, lips glistening. Her tongue slipped over the bottom one in a slow temptation that had to be deliberate.
His fingers ached where he clenched the chair to hold back the hunger that raged to take control. Did he push it? Her? How could he not?
Her free hand dug under the band of his briefs to find his balls as her tongue glided up from the base of his dick.
Liv was kneeling at his feet, not even aware that she was breaking every rule he’d set in place after he’d failed so badly with Beth. Thinking stopped and reactions kicked in. The instinct he’d sworn he’d never follow again overruled the doubt and hesitation that held him back.
He laced his fingers through her hair, the strands tangling around his knuckles when he cupped the back of her head. His heart pounded, blood pumping at racing speed to his straining erection. When her eyes met his this time, they were heavy with trepidation and something more. God, he hoped he read the desire right.
He edged her fingers away so he could grip the base of his dick and rub the head over her swollen lips. The site was seductive, like her. Did she understand what he wanted?
Neither of them moved outside of the quick rise and fall of their chests. He was ready to back off, his hand sliding from her hair, when the tip of her tongue curled under his rim to flick at the sensitive spot just below. His hand clenched, and she flinched at the sudden tug but didn’t pull her gaze from his.
With deliberate movements, he slid to the edge of the seat and stood. Her hair was still stuck in his hold and her head tilted back to track his rise. She sat back on her heels, a trail of heat following the progression of her hands as they slid from his thighs to rest in her lap. His pants and shorts pooled in a heap around his ankles, forgotten when the warmth of her quick exhalation ghosted over the underside of his balls.
Her lips were parted just enough for her tongue to slick out, a temptation all its own. If this was a game, it was a cruel one.
“Are you sure?”
Silence.
He’d had to force the question out past the desert that was his throat, and each second that ticked by without an answer highlighted the drought. He’d never force her, yet the chance of a negative response almost caused him to forgo the courtesy. He wanted this that much. The knowledge was staggering.
She rose up on her knees. Her lips parted farther, the oval of her waiting mouth an open invitation that frayed the last of his restraint. Still, he had to be certain.
“Say it, Liv,” he demanded, the order scratching over his throat with its harshness.
Her mouth snapped closed and her brows dipped down. For half a second he thought he’d blown it, then the pink tip of her tongue was back, wetting her lips to make way for a seductive smile.
“Yes, Noah.”
The emphasis on the two beats of his name was all snark. It matched the spark in her eyes and reignited the flame that had been snubbed out by Beth. Liv wouldn’t blindly take or do just because he wished it. She’d give and give, but it wasn’t without limits.
He smiled down at her and tapped the head of his dick
to her lips. “Open.” The slow drop of her jaw granted his demand. Not hesitant but alluring. Almost a dare he wasn’t turning down.
He fed his erection into her waiting mouth in the hottest fall he’d ever taken. It was heat and wetness and most important, Liv. Taking him in, inch by inch, until he sensed her gagging point.
He stopped. Sweat dampened his nape with the restraint it took to hold still when he really wanted to pound into her waiting mouth. She was so damn beautiful. This was all for him, he got that, and it made every action more potent.
“I’m going to fuck your mouth,” he warned and pumped his hips just a bit.
Her nostrils flared with each breath she sucked in. She blinked, then her tongue slid along the underside of his dick in answer.
The teasing action broke him. He tightened his hold on her hair, cupped her jaw with his other hand and started working himself in and out of her mouth, never quite leaving the suction that held him tight before thrusting back in. Feelings he’d thought long dead rushed up to grab at his heart and bring the high that came with dominating.
More than the moist warmth or sweeps of her active tongue, more than the small sucks she got in when he paused with his crown at her lips, was the simple beauty of her giving herself over to him. Whether on purpose or accident, her hands had drifted from her lap to be held behind her back.
He snapped his hips forward, going deeper before he pulled out and repeated the action. Her breaths increased, breasts rising in tempting beats that he caught in his peripheral vision because his focus was on her hooded eyes that still held his. On her expression that slipped from challenge to concern and now into doubt.
“You’re beautiful,” he reassured her, slowing his rhythm. “Relax.” He caressed the hollow of her cheek with his thumb in a gentle persuasion. “Trust me. I won’t harm you.”
He slid his dick deeper, and it was several beats of his heart before it happened—the switch that seemed to flick over and took Liv from accepting to truly giving. The exact moment was breathtaking to see on her.
A lowering of her tense shoulders, the weight of her head as she entrusted it into his hold, the loosening of her jaw to take whatever he gave her, the slowing of her breaths from their almost manic pace. But mostly it was in her eyes, the softening of understanding and finally true submission before they drifted closed.
Submission. Pure, giving, simple.
And hard as fuck for most people to do.
Noah let himself go then. He pushed into her mouth, able to go deeper with each thrust. Her throat worked and she swallowed when his crown reached the back of her mouth. The undulating pressure rippled up his dick to land in his balls, tearing a grunt from between his clenched teeth.
She hummed, so supple and willing in his hands that he didn’t want to come, didn’t want the moment to end when he had no idea if he’d get it back again. But there was no stopping the rush of his orgasm as it built in his balls.
She made him want again. Made him wish and dream and hope for the very things that could destroy him if he dared to reach for them.
Dared to keep her.
He locked the vision of her into his memory with the last few pumps between her lips, and then he was coming. His fist locked in her hair and he gasped with each shot of release that emptied into her mouth. Heat exploded through him, centering from his groin and rushing in tingling waves to the tips of his toes.
He hunched over, eyes squeezed tight against the intensity of both the release and acceptance that the choice was already gone. She owned him, whether she wanted him or not.
After what felt like hours later but was realistically seconds, he sucked in a gulp of air and opened his eyes. He managed to ease his softening dick from her mouth before his knees gave out and he dropped into the chair that was thankfully still behind him.
She watched him, motionless except for the minute working of her jaw that rotated against his palm. Her lips were plump with abuse, and he hauled her up to straddle his lap so he could kiss them. The salty flavor of his release hit his taste buds the instant he invaded her mouth. Their mutual moans pelted the air and blended with the scent of arousal.
He doubted she understood what her actions meant to him. He couldn’t speak of the significance, but he tried to express his gratitude in the emotion he poured into the kiss.
It was more long moments before he had the presence of mind to untangle his fingers from her hair and lift his lips from hers. He cupped her face and got lost in the openness shining in her dark eyes. Almost black now, full of passion.
“You okay?”
She gave him that soft smile that seemed to reach in and melt his heart. The one filled with gentle amusement and tender understanding. She reached up to hold his wrist and press a kiss into his palm.
“Yeah. I’m fine,” she said, her voice husky. “You?”
Damn. Her sexy timbre was made better by the knowledge of what she’d given of herself. He pressed a kiss to her brow, holding it until he had control of the jumbled ball of joy and worry and fear and so much more that he didn’t want to acknowledge. It expanded in his chest until there was no room for air.
He choked it back and focused on her. “Would you tell me if you weren’t?” he asked her instead, needing to know. He couldn’t do this, any of it, if he didn’t have that guarantee.
She slid her hands up his forearms, then over his shoulders until they were clasped behind his neck. He didn’t let her pull back when she tried, and she relented with a small sigh.
“Yes,” she said, her breath ghosting over his neck. “I’m not sure what we’re doing, either.” The admission was a bit of a sucker punch, even though he was lost, too. “But I know how to say no and I trust that you would listen to me if I did.”
“Always.” His insistence was immediate. He kissed her forehead again, his voice lowering. “Always.”
“Okay.”
That was it. No deep discussion or accusations, just simple acceptance. Trust handed to him so easily it shook the very foundation he’d been standing on for most of his life. What had he done to earn it?
“Let’s get you back to bed,” he finally whispered. He leaned back, brushed her hair away and fussed with the knots he’d made as an excuse to avoid her scrutiny.
“Hey.” She ran her fingers down his jaw and waited until he gave in and met her gaze. “You need some sleep too. That’s why I came down here.”
He chuckled and glanced at the small clock on his computer screen. “It’s almost four. I’ll feel worse if I try to sleep now.”
He helped her up and only remembered that his clothes were still around his ankles when he tried to swivel the chair around to find her lost T-shirt. An obnoxious sucking noise announced that his naked ass was stuck to the leather seat when he shifted her on his lap.
Her effort to hold in her laughter was undermined by the unladylike snort that came out instead. She slapped a hand over her mouth then finally gave up and let the giggles out.
His sigh was one of odd contentment as he wrapped his arms around her and held her tight. “The lack of sleep is bringing out the five-year-old in you.”
“Sorry,” she choked out, the humor in her tone diminishing the value of her apology. “I think I’m a bit slaphappy.”
“You think?”
She settled into his arms, the chair rocking gently on its hinges. He flexed his toes to maintain a slow pace that was soothing no matter how old one was. With Liv’s head tucked into the crook of his neck, her weight in his arms and the soft expanse of her naked body blanketing him, he could forget about everything that waited for him and just be.
Chapter Seventeen
Noah stared down at the main floor of the club, which was packed with members, some in full Halloween costumes and others in normal BDSM gear. The mix was a hodgepodge that managed to blend when it seemed like it shouldn’t. A sexy Cinderella led on a leash by a leather-clad Dom would’ve been humorous in any other setting, but not here.
The dance music was a notch below its usual volume, which made conversation easier when maybe it shouldn’t be. There was guaranteed to be lots of talk and gossip about the Harcourt mess. Yet it hadn’t deterred the members from showing up tonight.
“Crowd’s good,” Rock said from beside him.
He had to agree. “Is it wrong to have hoped it’d be empty?”
The other man’s rough snort pulled a smirk from him.
“Not at all.” Rock braced his feet and crossed his arms over his chest, scanning the room with an almost predatory intent. “Glad we cut off the guest privileges though. It’d have been a bitch clearing everyone.”
“We can’t give the media any openings.” Noah still feared the press would somehow find a way into the club for an inside scoop, even though they’d done everything they could to lock the place down.
“Fucking vultures,” Rock muttered. “Every one of them.” Noah couldn’t disagree.
From their perch on the small private balcony overlooking the main floor, they could see almost all of the dance floor and bar area. Rock had done a hell of a job getting the increased security in place in two short days. Numerous men and women were stationed around the room, some clearly marked in The Den Tshirts, others dressed to blend in with the crowd.
The whole reopening had gone smoothly, despite how shitty everything else was. A few of the staff had resigned, but Marcus had easily filled their shifts. Butch had agreed to man the Dungeon and oversee the club’s staff of full-time Doms and subs, most of whom didn’t need much watching over or Deklan wouldn’t have hired them.
“This still doesn’t feel right.” Noah looked at the empty VIP booth below them. The absence of the other partners was profound and seemed to leak into the overall atmosphere of the night. They weren’t all present every night, but knowing why the others were missing, and having no clue on when they’d return, left an impact on everyone there.
“Agreed.”
And there was nothing they could do about it. “Carter here tonight?”
