The confession was more comforting than it should be. “What was your first time like?” she asked.
“You don’t want to know that. Not today.”
“You’re right. I don’t.”
“This is only about you, and I’m hoping me.”
She liked this. The simplicity of it. “I’m hoping you, too. But I don’t want to have to promise anything.”
“I’m not asking that.”
“But what if it ends up meaning something?” Why was she still talking? Why didn’t he kiss her again and make her stop?
“Then that’s what happens.”
“Damn it, stop being reasonable.” She’d run out of excuses, and then fear would be her only excuse. He said that was okay, but she didn’t know if she agreed.
The way he traced his thumb over her cheek was soothing. “Do you want me to be irrational?”
“It would be nice if I weren’t the only one struggling with this.”
“You’re not.” He brushed his lips over hers. Another light caress, but a tremor ran through his hand.
It was like that simple gesture, his lips on hers, patched the broken solder points in her brain and brought the circuits back online. “What are you struggling with?” she asked.
“I’ve wanted you since that first night we ran into each other. Christmas Eve. I’m trying to behave, but if you’re asking—and as long as we’re being blunt—it’s killing me.”
This was enticing and terrifying, wrapped up with a bow. “I don’t know what I’m doing.”
He leaned in to draw his nose along the shell of her ear, his voice soft enough she barely heard it. “Practice makes perfect.”
She sighed at the sensation and the way it tingled over her. “Practice implies more than once.”
“Only implies?” He nipped her lobe, then kissed along her jaw. “I’ll be more direct. We have all weekend, and that’s just to start.” He stood, tugged her to her feet, and led her to the bedroom. “If you don’t like how you’ve built this up in your head, let’s tear it down. Don’t get me wrong—I’m not trying to make light of sex. But it’s also not a big deal.” Spencer stopped by the bed and turned to face her.
She pursed her lips at the mixed message. “That’s not helpful.”
“I’ll make it helpful.” He settled a hand on her hip and spun her so her back was to him. Brushing her hair aside, he trailed his lips along her neck. “You’ve got some experience.”
Shyness snaked through her. “A little.” She’d gone as far as third base more than once. And despite Leo’s complaints after the fact, he always seemed to enjoy the hand-jobs while they were happening.
Spencer slid his hands under her shirt, to rest his palms on her stomach. The heat chased away some of her doubt and raced over her with possibility. “You know how to get yourself off?” he asked.
“Yes.” The response squeaked out. Her confession pulsed between her legs.
“So you know what you like.”
“I know what I do that feels good. That’s not a broad range.”
He moved his hands higher. “It’s a starting point.” His lips were on her neck again, vibrating with each word, tightening in her belly and traveling lower. “For instance, do you play with your nipples?”
“Yes.” She should be embarrassed to have this conversation out loud, but it was turning her on more than she ever remembered being.
He cupped her breasts, squeezed gently, and traced his thumbs over the fabric. Each time he passed over the swollen nubs beneath, she squeezed her thighs together and squirmed.
The longer the attention continued, the wetter she got. The feather-light teasing, combined with his mouth on her shoulder, stole her breath and thoughts. She could fall into this for a while.
“What do you think about?” His low question added to the moment, rather than detracting from it. “What kind of fantasies turn you on?”
The one in her head right now, of putting on a show for him. Of playing with herself and watching him get as aroused as she was. But the confession was more than a simple yes answer, and fear lodged it in her throat. What if it wasn’t what he wanted to hear? “I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do.” His tone was coaxing and commanding in the few short syllables.
“I’m not going to say something like, dressing up as Princess Leia in a gold bikini.” She winced as what was meant as a joke slipped out.
He chuckled and pulled her closer. The warmth of his solid chest seared through her T-shirt. “Give me some credit. I’d take the Endor outfit over the bikini any day.”
“Like with the Ewoks? Is this a furry thing?” The teasing was easier than letting go of the thin ledge she balanced on, to keep from falling the rest of the way into his touch.
He pushed her bra over her breasts, and elastic scraped the tender skin, making her gasp. He pinched her nipples. God, this felt good. Her grip was slipping. She wanted to lose herself in this. She needed to let go.
“When you’re lying in bed, wet and turned on, sliding your fingers between your legs, what’s playing in your head?” His question wrapped her in desire. “I want to know.”
“That someone is watching.” She liked the sound of the confession, as she forced out the answer. “That I’m putting on a private show, and the other person is getting off to me getting off.”
“I want to see.” Spencer trailed his fingers under her bra strap, to her back, to unhook the clasp. The tension fell away, and so did any contact with him. He stepped in front of her, out of reach. “Clothes off.”
The command was as electrifying as his touch. She stripped off her top, intently aware of the way he followed her movements. Her jeans and panties were next, shoved to the ground and kicked aside, leaving her naked and on display.
He raked his gaze over her. The desire in her core, begging for attention, intensified as much as when he was playing with her breasts. He stroked himself through his shorts as he studied her. “On the bed. I want to watch this show. Take it out of your head and make it real.”
“Okay.” She had zero desire to argue but didn’t know what to do. She sat in the middle of the mattress, and hesitation returned.
“Do what you do when you fantasize,” Spencer said. He lowered himself into the chair across from her and worked his erection free. “I’m the man in your imagination, watching the show. There are no wrong choices here.”
She laid back and slid one hand between her legs, while she teased her tender nipples with the other. Her touch wasn’t the same as his, but if she tilted her head, she could see him gliding his hand along his shaft. This was better than in her head. She brushed her clit, and an involuntary gasp slipped out.
His tiny smile and the way he stroked faster encouraged her. She glided along her slit.
“Are you wet?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“I want to hear you say it.”
She didn’t know what he was looking for. But she knew what her fantasy hoped for. She dipped her fingers near her opening. “I’m so slippery.” The words tasted good. “So fucking hot, with you watching.”
“Tell me what you’re thinking.” His low growl rolled under her skin.
“How turned on I am.” She traced circles around her clit but didn’t make contact. “How I want to get off for you. How I want to know you came to the sight of me playing with my pussy.”
“Fuck. Come for me, gorgeous.”
She zeroed in on the swollen button, and her body jerked away from her touch. His heavy breathing spurred her on, as she closed her eyes and sank into the feeling. His grunts kept pace with her moans. Her hips thrust in time with her attention.
Orgasm sped up on her without warning, crashing over her and tingling from her fingers to her toes, but she didn’t want to stop. This might not be sex by the dictionary definition, but it was intimate and incredible, and she was drowning in the sea of stars dancing behind her eyes.
She was vaguely aware of the shift of the
mattress, as she hit the height of her climax. Spencer penetrated her with his fingers, and she clenched around him. A pop of pain—a tiny tearing—jolted through her, but it mingled with the moment and heightened her pleasure.
She eased away from her sex as she finished, but he didn’t withdraw. Her body clenched around the fingers inside her. She wanted more.
“You’re stunning like this.” His words caressed her cheek. “Open your eyes.”
She looked, to see him watching her with an intensity that kept the light-headed fuzzy feeling in her head.
“You said you wanted me to get off too...” He kissed down her chest, then wrapped his tongue around one nipple.
She arched her back into the sensation. Her body was a live wire. “That’s the fantasy.”
“But I need to be inside you.” He knelt between her legs. He’d put a condom on at some point. It was good one of them was thinking sensibly. He dragged the head of his cock along her slit, teasing, before sliding his fingers out of her and hovering at her opening.
He penetrated her slowly, and she gasped at the intrusion. “All right?” he asked.
“Don’t hold back.” Trina tried not to whimper, but her words came out as a plea.
“Don’t take that leash off me yet.” Warning hung in his voice.
She was tired of waiting. She thrust her hips forward, plunging him inside. It hurt, being stretched out, but it felt so good too. So right. She groaned at the penetration.
“I warned you.” He sounded strained.
“I don’t care. Fuck me hard. Please?”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Spencer didn’t know how he had any control left. This stunning woman lying beneath him pushed all the right buttons, and those hints of a filthy mouth... Those alone almost shoved him over the edge.
He was trying not to hurt her, but when she begged to be fucked, it was like snapping the cord he held on his self-control. He ran his hands along the inside of her thighs, to her knees, then back, pinning her legs to her chest.
Each time he slammed inside her, she moaned louder than the last. Her head was thrown back, and her lips slightly parted. Blonde hair splayed on the blanket around her. A halo for her angelic beauty.
He tried to focus on something to slow him down. Surfing. Accounting. Work. It didn’t matter. Each time she clenched around him, it jerked him closer to orgasm.
He gripped her thighs as need built inside. He pounded his pelvis against her. The scents of sand and sex filled the air, yanking his climax out. He grunted, pounding hard and seeing spots, as he found release.
As Spencer slowed and then stopped, the world sank back in, punctuated with the combination of Trina’s gasps and giggles. He liked pretty much anything that came out of her mouth, but knowing she also had a filthy mind made it that much better. He was going to coax more fantasies out of her.
She laughed again, and he focused on her face.
“What?” he asked.
“Wow. So... um... Wow.” She bit her bottom lip and pointed at her chest. “Not a virgin anymore.”
He slid out of her and rolled to collapse next to her on the bed. So much about Trina was a breath of fresh air. “Feel like the big, scary weight is gone?”
“Don’t know.” She shifted to rest her head on his arm. “Might need a couple more times, to figure that out. And then a couple more to make sure I’m doing it right.”
“No complaints from me.” He might need a little time to recover first. Then again, the way she teased her fingers along his chest, over a nipple, and then back up to trace his collarbone, he was half-hard again. Another amazing thing about her—she made him feel a decade younger.
“I owe you breakfast,” he said. Not that he didn’t want to lie here all day, but logic said he might need a breather.
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
She propped herself up on one elbow, to look at him. “Popular media tells me this is where you ask for a sandwich and then go back to sleep. And popular media wouldn’t lie.”
“If I wasn’t comfortable, I’d smack your ass for a comment like that,” he teased.
“Promises, promises.”
He kissed her nose. “Go take a shower, and find me in the kitchen when you’re done.”
“If you insist.” She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. She hopped from the bed, not trying to hide her nakedness. As she walked toward the door, she glanced over her shoulder. “Are you watching my ass?”
“Damn straight, I am.”
Her smile grew, and she flounced from the room.
Spencer flopped his head back and stared at the ceiling, not really focusing. He had no idea what this was, what they were doing, or where they were heading, but as long as they were both having fun, he didn’t see how it was a problem.
SPENCER TRACED A LAZY path along Trina’s legs, where they rested on top of his. She sat sideways next to him on the couch, head leaned on her arm on the back cushions. It was Sunday night.
They tried gaming this way, but they kept accidentally bumping each other’s controllers, so they surrendered that idea a few hours ago—about the same time the sun was setting. He didn’t remember the last time he was this comfortable.
“I should get going.” She didn’t move.
They’d spent the weekend screwing, gaming, and talking. One tended to lead to the next, regardless of what they started with. Whenever they reached the talking bit, they covered a wide range of topics, from simple—her favorite color was red—to revealing—she’d minored in Italian in college—to personal—he had a vasectomy after his divorce. “Probably. Unless you want to stay here tonight. Head out early in the morning,” he said.
Her exaggerated pout was as enticing as the rest of her, and he leaned in to nip at her bottom lip. Her moan glided over and through him, tugging at his cock. He slid his hand to the back of her neck, capturing her as he deepened the kiss. His tongue sparred with hers.
Never breaking the kiss, she straddled his legs. Her weight against his lap, the hunger in her kiss, the way she ground against his erection... He broke away with a gasp. “You should go. Morning traffic out of here will be a nightmare.”
“Or we could stay, and I could get up really early.” She pressed harder against him.
Despite all the things they’d talked about in the last couple days, they steered clear of defining any sort of relationship or lack thereof. For now enjoying each other was enough.
He moved his hand under her shirt and skated his palm up her stomach, to brush his thumb along the bottom of her breasts. “If you stay, I can’t guarantee we’ll get any sleep.” With the way she squirmed, she had to be as wet as he was hard. He dragged his touch over one nipple, through the lace of her bra. “Call in sick tomorrow.”
“And you’ll do the same?” She met his gaze. “People will talk.”
“People won’t care.” As he said the words, he knew they weren’t true. He kissed between her breasts, before resting his forehead against her chest. “Fuck.”
“They already tell each other I fucked my way into my job, and that’s based on nothing.” Sadness mingled with her playful tone. Her words vibrated through his skull, their meaning tugging at anger.
That carried another revelation. “We have to keep this a secret.” Even if they didn’t know what this was.
“We don’t have to stop, do we?”
He looked up to see her pout was back, and real this time. “Not unless you want to,” he said.
“I don’t.”
He drew a finger over her frown, afraid if he kissed her again, he wouldn’t want to quit. The way she parted her lips and fluttered her eyelids at the contact almost undid his resolve anyway.
Spencer forced his hand to his side. “Install is over in a few weeks. We’ll keep our relationship on the down low, then figure details out after that.”
“I’m good with that.”
He gripped her hips and nudged her back.
“I’m going to have a hard time not pounding Doug's face into the pavement next time he says anything to you.”
“Please let it go.” She stood and stepped away. “I’m dealing with it.”
“You’re not.” He knew interfering wouldn’t do anyone any good, but he couldn’t justify ignoring the harassment.
She bent at the waist and gave him a quick kiss, pulling away before he could grab her again. “I will. I have a plan, and it’s under control.”
He had to believe her. It didn’t lessen his desire to brain the asshole she worked with, though.
TRINA WAS GRATEFUL there were no other cars in the parking lot. She could take her time waking up, a few minutes, before any of her colleagues arrived. They all had keys, since Spencer wouldn’t be on site every day, to let them in.
She rubbed her dry eyes and headed into the building.
She might not have gotten any sleep last night if she’d stayed at his beach house, but she would have enjoyed it. Instead, she’d tossed and turned for several hours, trying to figure out what was missing. It occurred to her around three in the morning. She’d slept alone her entire life, but after two nights in Spencer’s bed, she felt addicted to curling up next to him.
As she walked into the lobby, she was surprised to see a light coming from under the door at the far end. Eventually, that room would be for Security. Right now, it was where Spencer had set up a temporary office.
Did he forget to turn the light off Friday night, or was someone else in there? She didn’t dare hope he was here. She crept toward the room and knocked softly.
“Yeah.” Spencer’s voice carried out.
Her weariness vanished, and she pushed into the room and closed the door behind her. His smile warmed her from the inside out.
“I didn’t see your truck outside,” she said.
“The truck was due for maintenance.” He stepped around the table holding his laptop. “This is closer to the car place than the office is, so I had the driver drop me off while they do the work.” He approached her, knotted his fingers in her hair, and crushed his mouth to hers.
Riding the Wave Page 8
