by Marie Force
I’m like a wet noodle when he lifts me again and brings me down on the bed, brushing the hair back from my face. I wince when my abused ass makes contact with the comforter.
“Look at me.”
I open my eyes to find beautiful brown eyes gazing down at me with concern.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“Uh-huh. You?”
“Yeah, I’m good.”
If he’s good, I’m good.
“I want to fuck you so bad.”
To some women, that might be the least romantic thing they could ever hear from a man. For this woman who’s wanted this man for so long, they’re the most romantic words I’ve ever heard. “What’s stopping you?”
“I’m not sure I can.”
“You want to try?”
“So fucking bad.”
I ease my legs apart, offering myself to him. “Take what you want.”
“You shouldn’t say that to me when you have no idea of the full extent of what I want.”
“Tell me.”
He moves so he’s on top of me, the heavy weight of him pinning me to the bed. “I want everything.”
“Okay.”
“You don’t know what everything entails.”
“I assume you’ll show me?”
He pauses for a long, breathless moment, staring down at me in the fierce, intense way of his, before he appears to make some sort of decision. “Yeah, I’ll show you.”
“Call me crazy, but everything is going to take longer than one night.”
“You think you’re so clever, don’t you?”
“Nah, I’m just on to you, and you hate that, don’t you?”
“You’re incredibly naïve.”
“No, I’m not. I just trust you.”
“You shouldn’t.” As he speaks, his cock slides through the slickness between my legs and nudges at my clit.
It’s the best thing I’ve ever felt. “Why not?”
“You don’t even know me.”
“You keep saying that, but you don’t tell me what I need to know.”
“When I tell you I’m kinky, that means I want to tie you up, drive you crazy with toys and floggers and fuck your ass, to begin with.”
A full-body shudder ripples through me like a wave coming to shore. “Okay.”
“Just okay?”
I meet his incredulous stare with confidence and certainty. I want him—any way I can have him. “Just okay.”
And then he’s kissing me, consuming me with deep strokes of his tongue. “Hands over your head,” he says before going back for more. He pins my hands over my head and pinches my nipple so tightly, it brings tears to my eyes and has me raising my hips, seeking him. I want to feel the painful stretch of my flesh accommodating his so badly, I nearly drool from imagining what it’ll be like to take that big cock.
“Do we need a condom?” he asks. “I’m clean and I can prove it.”
“No, we don’t, and I’m clean, too.”
“You’re sure about birth control? I don’t want any surprises, Leah. I mean it.”
“I’m sure, and trust me, I’m in no way ready to be anyone’s mother. I’ve been on the pill since I was fifteen and have never missed a day.”
He pushes into me, and it hurts. Like hell.
I bite my lip to keep from screaming.
“Ah, God,” he whispers gruffly against my ear, goose bumps erupting on my arms and legs. “You’re so fucking tight.” He withdraws. “Hang on.”
Part of me is relieved and the other part is bereft that he stopped. Where did he go? He goes into the massive walk-in closet and returns with something tucked under his arm. He picks up the lube that’s still on the bedside table from before.
I’m breathless as I wait to see what he’s going to do.
First, he applies the lube to his fingers and slides them into me, spreading the liquid all around. It heats on contact, which makes the desire run hotter through my veins. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any hotter, he produces a large dildo that he covers with more lube before pushing it against my opening. It’s big, but not as big as he is.
Dear God…
He uses the toy to stretch me, sliding it in and then retreating, doing this over and over again until I’m sobbing and begging him to give me the real thing. After lubing up his cock, he pushes against me again, and this time, my body yields enough to allow him in. “Ah, yes,” he says on a long sigh. “There we go. That’s my girl.”
I want so badly to be his girl, to belong to him and to know he’s mine—and only mine. I want that so much that I burn from the longing that fills my heart and soul. I could make him happy. I know I could, and if I had him, I’d never want for anything else for the rest of my life. And yes, I fully realize that’s an awfully big deal for someone who thought she wasn’t ready for forever. If forever means every day with him, I can make myself ready.
Even with the preparation and the lube, it’s still a battle to take all of him, and he’s taking it easy due to his injury. By the time he’s fully seated inside me, I’m having one orgasm after another. The emotional overload is nearly as overwhelming as the physical. I’m overtaken by him, surrounded, filled and consumed. One deep stroke at a time, he’s ruining me for anyone else.
His face is tight with tension that I wish I could soothe, but with my hands pinned above my head, I can’t do anything but accept what he’s giving me.
“Does it hurt?” I ask him.
“Not too bad.”
“Stop if it hurts.”
His gruff laugh is becoming one of my favorite sounds. “Stopping is the last thing I want to do.” He releases my hands. “Keep them up there.” Reaching under me, he grips my ass and lifts me to improve the angle of penetration.
We’re such a tight fit that every time he thrusts into me, I gasp from the impact and the almost-painful stretch of my flesh accommodating his. I’ve heard that bigger is better, but until him, I’d never experienced how true that saying really is. Everything is different with him, maybe because I love him. Despite what he says, I can tell this isn’t entirely comfortable for him, so I squeeze my internal muscles and draw a deep groan from him. I do it again and again until he comes with a shout of pleasure that triggers another release for me.
I’ve never had so many orgasms in my life as I do with him, and I have a feeling I haven’t yet seen a fraction of what he’s capable of. I can’t wait to do it all with him.
This is madness, and it has to stop. I said I wasn’t going to touch her, so how did I end up naked on top of her after having come inside her, something I never, ever do without a condom. It’s like she’s cast some sort of spell on me and all my common sense has deserted me. But, God, even with a bruised dick, it had been like heaven to sink into her tight, hot, wet pussy. I can honestly say that the kinkiest sex I’ve ever had had nothing on what I just did with her, even with my aching cock protesting the entire time.
I withdraw from her and land on the bed, arm over my eyes as I try to catch my breath.
“Are you okay?” she asks.
The question pisses me off. Of course I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be? Except, I can’t seem to slow the crazy-ass heartbeat that makes me breathless. It also doesn’t help that the sound of her voice has my cock stirring for round two.
Hearing her say she was bullied as a teenager and listening to her talk about how she got her revenge broke something in me. The thought of those bitches being mean to her makes me want to murder the little bastards who made her life hell. Of course the boys liked her. Look at her, for Christ’s sake. She’s every guy’s wet dream. She’s definitely mine and has been for a while now.
“You want me to go?” she asks.
I realize I never answered her when she asked if I was okay. “You don’t have to.” Yes, she does! Remember how we wanted to get back to normal? We can’t do that with her here. I’m trying to recall what normal looked like before yesterday, before I touched her and doomed myself t
o this crazy need that only seems to multiply exponentially every time I’m near her.
All I know is I don’t want her to go. I want to keep her close so nothing else can harm or hurt her, especially after hearing there’s a guy out there who won’t take no for an answer. That scares the hell out of me for reasons I usually keep buried deep in the back of my mind between visits to Elena, the only woman I’ve ever loved. She was beaten so badly by her boyfriend that she suffered irreversible brain damage. Ever since her parents got too old to care for her at home, I pay for her to live at a top facility in Pacific Palisades. I visit her on the first Sunday of every month and then spend the rest of the time trying not to think about what might’ve been for her—and for me—if she’d only chosen me instead of the son of a bitch who ruined her life.
God, why am I even thinking about this shit? I try very hard never to think about what happened to her, except for those few hours every month when I’m forced to confront how badly I failed her.
This is why I shouldn’t let Leah get to me. She’s stirring up all sorts of shit I’d prefer not to think about.
So tell her to leave. You don’t owe her anything just because you fucked her.
I make the mistake of looking over at her, gazing at me with her brows knitted with concern. “You’re sure you’re okay?”
“I’m fine.” I’m fucking fine. That’s what I tell myself every fucking day so I can get through another day. The only pleasures I allow myself are the ones I take at the gym and at the clubs owned by the Quantum partners in LA and New York. There I can fully be myself and indulge the inner demons that plague me until I’m lost in a scene that requires my complete attention. That’s what I know and understand.
This, with her… I don’t want to understand this. It’s been fifteen years since a woman made me feel anything, and I can’t deal with the anxious, stressed-out sensations that come with caring. I remember all too well what it was like to love a woman who loved someone else, who chose him, and then paid for that choice with a life-altering brain injury that changed my life, too.
“I’ll go,” she says, starting to get up.
The thought of that guy possibly lying in wait for her has me grasping her arm. “Stay.” I don’t want her under my skin, but I do want her safe, and the only way I can ensure her safety is to keep her here with me.
Then she smiles at me, and I realize how completely and utterly fucked I am.
Chapter 11
I wake at five, as usual. However, having Leah wrapped around me is anything but usual. My cock reacts to her nearness, and I bite back a groan. It hurts more today than yesterday, and I bet I know why. But it was so worth it. Moving carefully, I extricate myself from her and get up to hit the gym before work.
I spend an hour putting my body through the punishing routine that keeps it honed and in top shape. I’m much sharper and more focused at work after a good workout than I am without it. Before returning to my place, I pop into the coffee shop in the lobby and pick up coffees, with the extra cream that Leah likes, and scones. The minute I step foot in the door, I can tell she’s gone. It’s like the life force has been removed from the place or something equally ridiculous.
I stick my head in the bedroom to confirm. The bed is neatly made, and there’s no sign that she was ever there except for the lingering scent of her that fills the air. I’m oddly disappointed that she’s gone, even as I tell myself I should be relieved. Her departure saves me from awkward morning-after crap, even as I suspect it wouldn’t be awkward with her. It probably would’ve been entertaining.
I take a shower, shave and dress in one of the Saville Row suits that Flynn and Hayden like to tease me about. I make two trips a year to London to get the best of the best. So I like a good suit, and I prefer to look like a professional at work, even if my colleagues wear jeans and T-shirts most of the time. Whatever. To each his own. Today’s suit is gray with subtle pinstripes that I pair with a white shirt and a purple-and-gray-checked tie. I step into black Ferragamo loafers and grab my phone off the charger, relieved that the pants don’t hurt to wear.
That’s progress.
I bring the coffee and scone I bought for Leah and drink my own coffee on the way to the office. In the parking lot, I notice her car is already there, and my heart gives a happy little lurch at knowing I’m going to see her again. Soon.
This is bad. I know it’s bad, but God, it feels so damned good. She’s so hot and willing, not to mention honest. She’s so fucking honest and open and doesn’t allow me to get away with anything. In many ways, she seems so much older than her twenty-four years, probably because of everything she went through as a kid.
I can’t stop thinking about the things she told me last night, how matter-of-fact she was about things that must’ve cut her deeply at the time. Her parents had adopted her but never got over wanting a biological child, and then her mother died suddenly in a tragic fall that had to have rocked her. She hasn’t had it easy, that’s for sure.
Hell, I didn’t either, but my situation was more of the poor-little-rich-boy-whose-parents-were-too-busy-to-bother-with-him variety. They both worked in upper management for one of the big studios, and I’d go days without actually seeing them, which worked out well during the teenage years when I was allowed to run wild with friends like Flynn and Hayden. My mother’s mother was the only one who ever gave a fuck about me, or so it seemed to me. I rarely see my parents these days, which is fine with all of us.
Like Leah, I’m an only child, but I go all the way back to elementary school with Flynn and Hayden. I think of them as the brothers I never had. I’ve been keeping their secrets as long as they’ve been keeping mine. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for either of them, which is why they hired me right out of law school and allowed me to learn the entertainment business on their dime. We’re brothers in every way except blood. Later, we added Jasper and Kristian to our posse, and Marlowe has been one of us for so long I don’t remember a time when she wasn’t. Sebastian, one of Hayden’s oldest childhood friends, is also part of the Quantum family and is the manager of our LA club.
We’re family to each other, which works out well. Other than Flynn, most of us come from rather fucked-up families. The Godfreys are definitely the exception to the Hollywood rule, and most of us think of Max and Stella as the parents we wish we’d had, and they love us all like their own. Thank goodness I had them when I was a kid. Sometimes I think Max Godfrey is the only reason I didn’t end up in prison rather than law school. I never wanted to disappoint him, which is weird, I know. He was my friend’s father, but a larger-than-life presence in all our lives, and he set the gold standard that made us into the men we are today. I’m sure Flynn and Hayden would say the same, and Kristian, too, who credits Max for giving a street urchin a chance at a better life. And look at him now, the top producer in Hollywood.
I place my hand on the palm scanner for the elevator to the offices upstairs. The elevator on the far right would take me downstairs to the club. Work first, play later. I try to picture Leah at the club, bound to a St. Andrew’s cross while I tease and torment her. Would she like that? Or would she prefer a private room where we could indulge in a wide variety of pleasures?
I can’t think about that here or I’ll arrive in the office with a boner. I force my thoughts toward the work that’s waiting for me—the endless contracts that I can lose myself in for hours at a time.
The doors open, and the first person I see is Hayden.
“Hey,” he says. “You’re back. How’s Woody Woodpecker doing?”
Behind the reception desk, Aileen tries to mask her snort of laughter.
“Haha. He’s fine.”
“You know that for sure?” Hayden asks, cringing. He’s wearing jeans so faded, they’re almost white, and an untucked light-blue dress shirt that badly needs an iron.
“All systems have been fully tested and found operational.”
“Thank God for small favors, huh?”
&nbs
p; I flash a cocky grin. “Nothing small about it.”
“Jesus, I walked right into that swinging door.”
I crack up at the face he makes. “What’re you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be getting ready for a wedding?”
“We’re flying up to Napa later today. Addie needed to come in to do a few last-minute things for Flynn, and then she’s all mine for the next three weeks.”
“I’m extremely envious of the trip you have planned.” They rented a fully staffed yacht and will be setting sail in the Adriatic.
“I can’t wait. It’s the most time I’ve taken off in years.”
I reach out to shake his hand. “Enjoy every minute. You certainly deserve all the happiness in the world.”
“Thank you,” he says gruffly, well aware that I know firsthand just how much he deserves it. The poor guy had a hideous family that made mine look like the Brady Bunch. “I’ll see you up there?”
“With bells on.” I’m one of his groomsmen, along with Flynn, who is the best man, as well as Jasper, Kristian and Sebastian. “It’s going to be a great weekend.”
“Best weekend ever,” he says as he gets into the elevator. “See you soon.”
“Morning,” I say to Aileen.
“Morning. How’re you feeling?” Despite laughing at Hayden’s stupid comment, her expression is full of empathy and concern, which is a vast improvement over Hayden’s predictable jokes.
“Much better, thanks.”
“I’m so glad to hear it.” She hands me some mail. “I put yesterday’s mail on your desk.”
“Thank you.”
I run into Flynn in the hallway. He’s wearing basketball shorts and a music festival T-shirt that was old fifteen years ago. See what I mean about the dress code in our office? The tone at the top—the top being our founding partners Flynn and Hayden—isn’t good, so I do what I can to elevate the place.
Flynn takes an obvious look at my package. “How’s Peter Pecker?”
