I still. “Want me to stop?”
She gulps a breath before turning to me. “Yes.”
My fingers withdraw immediately, the knot in my stomach straining.
She looks around in desperation, her eyes darting in a circle around her. Shoving away from the table, she yanks the hem of her dress back down. Her eyes hood as she looms over me.
Mariah has turned me on so many times. But not a single one of them, neither as Mariah or when she was promising me filthy things under the alias of Nerdy Nurse, has made me harder than I am right now.
“I’m losing my mind,” she breathes, a roughness to her tone that is the final fray of my self-restraint. “Follow me.”
She takes my hand, guiding me to my feet. Our footsteps tap across the tile. We go through an arched doorway and take a right.
Rounding a set of stairs, there’s a room tucked in the back. She twists the knob and we enter a butler’s pantry. It’s painted light grey with a set of cabinets lining the smallish, rectangular space. Shelves hang on the top starting a few inches off the cabinets and extending to the ceiling.
The door shuts behind me, a lock clicking into place. I look over my shoulder.
She’s standing in the middle of the room. Her eyes are almost feral as her chest bounces with each hefty breath.
A series of thoughts sweep through my mind as I look at her. I have no problem with one-night stands. I prefer them. I own them. But a rustle of uncertainty surges through me when I take her in and she doesn’t look like a one-night stand and I don’t know what that means.
“Are you sure?” I ask her.
“Shut up, Lance.”
My hands are on her face, my lips crashing against hers before either of us see it coming. Her back slams against the door. A box of cereal rattles off a shelf and falls to the floor.
Her mouth works effortlessly against mine, her hand tangles in my hair. She tastes of cherries as her mouth opens for me. My tongue parts her lips, lapping against hers. She moans, but my kiss swallows it.
Each second together feels like it took a second too long to arrive. Each moment bleeds into the next creating a dizzying high that rivals any I’ve ever had. I break contact with her mouth only to dot kisses across her chin and down the gentle slope of her neck.
Her body bends to mine, continuously moving to scratch the itch that is only going to be soothed with an orgasm.
“This,” she gasps, as I pull her dress over her head and toss it onto a nearby shelf, “is so inappropriate.” She leans forward, dragging our mouths together again.
“Like you care,” I say between kisses, fumbling with the latch on her bra.
She opens her eyes. Narrowing them as she bites down on my bottom lip, she shimmies her shoulders out of her straps. Her breasts are held up only by the cups of the soft pink bra that barely contains the gorgeous mounds.
“Fuck,” I hiss, kissing down her neck, yanking down the satin cups. Her breasts spring free. With one in each hand, I pull her taught nipple into my mouth. Mariah’s hips roll into me as she moans, her fingernails scraping against my scalp.
Hooking my fingers through the delicate bands of her panties, I give them a pull. They break free as easily as my willpower.
I take her in like a teenager seeing a woman naked for the first time. She’s so fucking beautiful with curves around her hips, her breasts, and a softness to her legs and stomach. I wish I had more time to appreciate this, to revel in how lucky I am to be the one with her right now, but I don’t. That’ll have to come later.
“Why do you still have clothes on?” she pants.
“Because you’re naked,” I say, kissing a line across her from hip-to-hip. “It’s kind of hard to stop licking you.”
“If it’s only kind of hard, then we better stop.”
I stop. It’s actually painful to break contact, get to my feet, and face her without touching her again. But I manage. Somehow.
Slipping off my shoes, then my socks, I kick them to the side. I refuse to let her look anywhere else as I unbutton my shirt and send it flying. My pants and navy boxer briefs drop to the floor and go skidding to the side with the rest of my shit.
A smile tickles her lips as I palm my cock.
“Is this hard enough for you?” I ask.
The air between us sizzles, our gazes heating the space until it’s too much to take. We meet somewhere in the middle, our lips crashing against one another. Her hands wrap around my neck, her legs around my waist. I press her back to the door again, the shelf on the wall rattling at the force.
My shaft is buried between the ridges of my abs and the softness of her belly. She reaches down, touching the pre-cum glistening on the head.
“I have no condom,” I say, pressing my lips against the top of her shoulder.
“Now’s not the time to tell me that.” Her head hits the door, the sound thudding through the room.
“I’m clean,” I promise. “Had a check-up last month.”
She cups my cheeks, pulling my face to hers. “Why should I trust you?” she asks, nibbling my bottom lip.
Squeezing the cheeks of her ass, I groan. “Because I’m not an asshole. Good enough for you?”
“Fine. I’m on the pill.”
“Fabulous. But are you clean?” I tease, sliding my tongue into her mouth.
She laughs, pulling away. “Fuck you.”
“I want to, but I have to be safe too.”
“Yes, of course I’m—”
I’m inside her with one thrust, parting her flesh with a single, solid stroke. She yelps as her muscles pull at mine, cinching my cock like a sheath.
“I’m inclined to believe you haven’t done this in a while,” I chuckle. The head of my dick is pulled back so hard by the tightness of her pussy that it almost hurts.
“Just shut up and fuck me, Lance.”
“Yes, madam.”
I bury myself in her. She’s soaked, her pussy burning inside for me. I shove myself inside her again, feeling her pulse around my throbbing cock.
She softly moans, her eyes fluttering open like she’s in a haze she’s can’t get out of as I pound into her. If I had my way, I’d keep her here permanently.
She feels too good wrapped around me. Too good in my arms. Too fucking gorgeous, and she’s glowing from what I’m doing to her. Me. A man who has no business touching a woman like her.
I’m an animal, a guy that intentionally keeps emotion out of the equation when sleeping with a woman. So why in the fucking hell does this not feel like a normal, run-of-the-mill fuck?
“Hey,” she breathes.
“Yeah?”
“Don’t stop.”
* * *
Mariah
A slow, sexy smile stretches across his face as he presses himself all the way until he hits the back of my pussy. I’m held between him and the door, his body sweaty against mine.
The butler’s pantry smells of sex and sugar mixed with Lance’s cologne.
I can barely breathe from the adrenaline, barely process the fact that he’s inside me. I’m dying for him to move, dying over the fact that he’s looking at me in a way I can’t deal with.
His chin lifts, his throat on full display. It leads to a set of muscled shoulders, a symmetrically perfect chest, and abs that make me whimper.
Tilting my hips forward, he doesn’t miss a beat. He rolls into me again, filling me with his rock-hard length.
He works himself against me, swirling across my clit. With each movement the door rattles, the cookbooks lining the door above us rustle against the shelf.
“Hold on,” he says.
Wrapping my arms around his neck and legs around his waist, he cups my ass in his hands and walks me to a counter. Pushing aside a cookie jar and a canister of flour, he sets my ass down on the cool marble.
My legs dangle off of the edge. My breasts sit on the top of my bra, my hair hangs in my face which is assuredly smeared with make-up, but I hold my breath as he takes me in.
“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he growls.
I’m sure I’ve looked prettier, but I’ve never felt it more than I do right now with this man eyeing me like he wants to devour me.
“Show me,” I whisper.
His hands grip my hips almost too hard, dragging me towards the end of the counter. I reach for his cock, but he squats down instead.
He parts my legs and crouches between them, giving me a mischievous grin. His face inches closer to my opening until his tongue slides between my legs and laps at my wetness.
“Oh, my God,” I groan, my hands propping me up behind me. All I can see is the green of his eyes dancing with mirth as he watches me absorb the pleasure he’s doling out.
“Sit. Still,” he says, pressing on my stomach to hold me down.
“You’re so good at this,” I say as he inserts a finger into my hole. His tongue licks up to my clit before he sucks it into his mouth. “Fuck you for being so good at this.”
He chuckles against me, the humming of his throat making everything worse. Better. I don’t freaking know. My head spins, the relief I need is so close I can taste it.
“I’m going to come,” I groan.
Then he stops.
“What are you doing?” I ask through gritted teeth. I feel like a baby when I almost whine as he stands. “Lance!”
“Yes, you are.” He scoops me back up. I link my ankles at the small of his back. “You’re going to come on my cock.”
He’s inside me, splitting me in two, pounding me with no fucks given about the noise we’re making or the sensitivity of the situation. My back slams into a wall next to a rack of spices as my body screams around him.
His eyes are trained on me, his jaw tense. I want to return the favor, watch him watch me, but I can’t keep my eyes open as the pressure inside me soars.
“I’m so close,” I beg as he slides inside me again.
“Mariah?” A voice comes from down the hall.
I snap my attention to Lance through a blur. It’s just clear enough to see him grin.
“Bite my shoulder,” he instructs, “because I’m not stopping.”
“Mariah?” My mom calls out again.
He twirls his hips as he’s balls-deep inside me. It’s enough to tip me over the edge. My legs shake, my body goes slack. I bite down on his shoulder.
His skin is hot and hard in my mouth as he pounds into me. Growling under his breath, he presses me harder against the wall. His cock swells as he empties himself into me. It only makes me shudder even more.
Every muscle in my body aches. The light in the pantry is too bright. The bolt of delicious orgasm melts me from the inside out as it rolls through my veins with every movement from Lance.
His thrusts weaken while my bite turns into a slack-jawed kiss. I pop a final, lingering press against the center of his shoulder before pulling away.
He quiets, still inside me, as I take in the definite circle marring his tanned skin. He looks at it too and laughs.
“Sorry,” I say, half-heartedly.
“I’m not.” He slips out of me and drops me easily to my feet. Kissing the top of my head, he lets his lips linger a moment longer than necessary. “I’ve fantasized about the things you’d say while you come.”
As I smack his chest, the buzz of the orgasm starts to dissolve and a tinge of reality works its way back in. I slip my bra back up and find my dress as the truth of his words hits me. Pausing, I look at him. I almost don’t want to ask in case I heard him wrong, but I do want to know. “You’ve fantasized about me, huh?”
He scoops up his clothes and starts covering up the body I could look at forever.
“Yup,” he says, buttoning his shirt. “But not one of them was as good as that.”
My cheeks ache from the smile stretched across them as I search for my panties. I never thought he fantasized about me. Not really. Maybe wanted me for a quickie here or there, but never an all-out fantasy.
“Mariah?” A knock comes against the door. “Are you in there?”
Grabbing my panties from behind an oversized can of soup, I whip my head to Lance. He looks no worse for the wear.
“What are we going to do now?” I say, half in shock. “Oh my God, Lance.”
He snakes his arm around my waist and puts his lips to my ears. “I think you need to go to the restroom and clean yourself up. I just came so fucking hard.”
I swat his shoulder. “I’m serious!”
“We walk out like two consenting adults. Ready?” he winks.
“Not that I care, but what is she going to think?”
“That you’re one lucky lady,” he laughs.
Before I can overthink it anymore, he tugs open the door. My mother is standing on the other side. She looks at me, then at him, in surprise.
“Oh,” she says, swallowing roughly.
“Mrs. Stevens, you need to have someone look at this lock. It’s sticking,” he says blandly.
“Really?” She looks at him, then at me. “I haven’t had any trouble with it.”
Lance grabs my hand, lacing our fingers together. He looks at me. “Trouble seems to creep up in the strangest places.”
My brows pull together, a question on the tip of my tongue, but my mother speaks before I can.
“Did you like what I’ve done with the pantry, Mariah?”
Starting down the hall, Lance right behind me, I call out, “Your pantry is memorable, to say the least.”
Lance laughs, the sound wrapping around my heart. I just hope this isn’t one of those strange places where trouble creeps up.
Nineteen
Mariah
“Thank you for lunch.”
I take a step away from my mother. Physical interactions are something I haven’t mastered with her. They always seem contrived or like they’re only done in a room full of people because that’s what’s expected of her. They’re never warm, never safe like I imagine a mother’s hug should be. This time is no exception.
“I’m so glad you came, Mariah. And I’m even happier to see you with a man.” She turns to Lance, pulling him into the same generic embrace. “I know Mariah is a little difficult to deal with, but I hope you’ll stick around. Maybe encourage her to spend some time with her family, get out and do something besides sit in that library all day. She has so much potential.”
“I can’t even with this,” I mutter. “Are you serious right now, Mother?”
“Mrs. Stevens,” Lance says, pulling away. He casts me a warning glance over his shoulder. “With all due respect, maybe if you were a little nicer to Mariah, she’d come by more often.”
“I see,” she nods. “She’s played the victim card with you just like she does with every man.”
“The victim?” I ask. “Me? That’s a new one.”
“She just means you—”
“You probably should stay out of this,” I say, cutting off my sister. “Nothing good will come from you chiming in at this point.”
She gets a disapproving look, one she’s practiced for years. It used to scare me as a child. I’d immediately back down for fear she’d charge forward and call me names or hurt my feelings. As we stand just a few feet away from each other, she tries it again. Maybe even unknowingly. I can’t find a fuck in me to give.
Lance laughs, reaching for my hand. “Thanks for lunch. You ladies have a wonderful afternoon.”
He guides me out the door. My mom’s sharp goodbye as we leave, Chrissy’s request to call me sometime—none of that matters enough to even turn around and acknowledge it. The only thing I want to do in this moment is suck up every minute with Lance.
Unlike the times before when he’s touched me, this feels different. More intimate. Maybe it’s just because I know what it feels like to have him inside me, I don’t know. But it sends a whirl of emotions through me that I don’t have time to sort.
The late afternoon sun isn’t as warm as it was earlier and I shiver. He pulls me into his side, running hi
s hand up and down my arm as we descend the stairs to the sidewalk.
“That wasn’t as bad as I thought it was going to be,” I note, looking up at him. My hand shakes as I place it on my chest, the excitement from the day starting to wear off.
“You were so tight …”
“Not what I meant,” I laugh. Each echo of my chest feels like I’m sloughing off some of the stress from the day. Like I’m casting all of that off and leaving it here, in Mom’s yard, behind me.
“That’s totally what you meant and, if it’s not, I didn’t do you right.”
“Oh, you did me right,” I say, blushing. “We just had sex in my mom’s house. What is wrong with me?”
“Hopefully just a very sore pus—”
“Stop it,” I giggle as he opens the car door.
He spins me around to face him. “You were brilliant in there today and I’m not just talking about the pantry. Although, your performance in there …”
I smack his chest. He tosses me a wink as I climb in the passenger’s side.
His shoulders seem broader, his chest fuller, as he crosses in front of the car. I can smell him on my clothes, taste his kisses. Feel the remnants of his onslaught between my legs.
Clenching my thighs together as he climbs in, I watch him get settled. Much to my surprise, he doesn’t look at me or say a word. He flips on the engine and pulls around the circular driveway and onto the road.
I wait for him to crack a joke or to reach out and touch my leg. He does neither. When he does move, I hold my breath until I realize he’s switching on the radio and not coming near me.
It’s odd that he’s not brushing my shoulder or touching my leg. I can’t help but notice it. I tell myself it’s just because I want the contact and maybe I’m reading too much into it. Maybe it’s just everything from the day taking its toll, but there’s still a tangled up ball of nerves that’s starting to fray in the pit of my stomach.
Watching the scenery pass, I want to say something to break the silence. I hate it. It’s not what we do. I hate it more that I don’t know why we’re doing this now.
Gibson Boys Box Set Page 43
