What to Read After FSOG: The Gemstone Collection (WTRAFSOG Book 9)

by Kristine Cayne

  “I want you to tell me. All the things you’ve fantasized about. That’ll be the first task to do all the things you’ve never done. You have to ask for them. Maybe even beg for them. Otherwise, how else will I know?”

  Her breath shuddered out. He grunted. “Take off the rest of your clothes. I want you bare.” He dropped his hands back down to the bed.

  Nerves filled her stomach. This felt like seduction. No. More like a stripping down of all that she was. One layer at a time. Ian sucked in a breath when she’d stood in front of him without a stitch of clothes.

  He held her gaze. “You’re a bonnie lass, aren’t you?”

  He had the nerve to joke right now? She bit her lip but ended up smiling anyway. “No idea what that means, but I like the sound of it.”

  “You would.” His voice was gruff. “Now tell me what you fantasize about. When it’s just you and your hand, what makes you come?”

  At his words her nipples grew taut. Jocelyn licked her lips. She knew these were the rules for what she wanted. She had to tell him or he’d show her to the door. He’d given her the chance to walk away, but half mad and horny, she followed him from the museum to his home to have this, to have him without a whit of guilt. How many times in her life would she get the opportunity or, hell, have the guts to do this? Never if she didn’t do it now when nothing was on the line.

  Her heartbeat shot into overdrive. “I—He’s—In my fantasies he’s sucking my breasts and massaging my clit. That’s the first thing he does.”

  His gaze lit. “Not so hard to say, was it?”

  “Easy for you to say.” She chuckled. “You’re just sitting there looking pleased.”

  “I am.”

  He splayed his hand over the hair covering her mound, groaned low and let his thumb dip into the crease, right to the entrance of her sex. She sighed, spreading her legs wider to give him better access. He smeared her heated, liquid arousal over her clit, back and forth, making the nub swell. Using his other hand, Ian grasped her left breast, light at first until she rocked her hips into his thumb. His groan was a thing of beauty and stoked a more potent response than his hand. She didn’t know what to do. Her mind had shut down any thought.

  He rubbed his thumb over her in circles, catching more of her cream to ease the way around, and caressing the outer lips of her pussy with each rotation. Tilting his chin, he tucked her nipple between his lips and sucked the dark brown peak into his mouth. Her fantasies had never been this vivid. Of course, they couldn’t stand up to a man’s mouth and hand. He made her the center of the universe and asked for nothing in return as he sucked her nipple and rolled her clit. All because she’d told him that’s what she desired, he’d do it until she came.

  She couldn’t have imagined the deep, abiding pleasure of telling this man suck me, fuck me and him obeying because the words had been spoken.

  The heat built in small degrees, flashing over her skin, but the intensity sprang from both his mouth and hands. His tongue wet and laving over her nipple. His thumb slick and sliding over and around her clit and the inner lips of her pussy. Teasing, enticing caresses.

  Her pelvis thrust forward, stilled. She lost her breath. Clenched but nothing was there to tighten around and milk. The orgasm ripped through her. She gripped his shoulders. He grunted, turning his face into her other breast but not letting go of the grip he had on the left one. And he kept up the tortuous rhythm of his thumb. She shuddered, hard, and her nails bit into his shirt. It wouldn’t surprise her to find crescent-like tears in the silk later.

  Jocelyn didn’t care. Her head fell back and she crooned as she came. His teeth sank deep into the skin around her nipple. It should have hurt. Instead, the sting shot straight to her core, extending the already exquisite orgasm.

  She tried to catch her breath but it was way ahead of her and her racing heart. She looked down into Ian’s gaze. The corner of his mouth was quirked up and he kept a slow, back and forth caress over the hooded nub that kept her shuddering, kept her pussy tingling and weeping at his touch.

  Ian loosened his grasp on her breast but only to lovingly pinch the brown peak. “Are you ready to tell me the rest?”

  He looked so much like a sex god so smug at making her come without so much as unbuttoning his shirt. That wouldn’t do at all. Not if they went at this for the next twenty-nine days as she envisioned. He couldn’t have the upper hand all the time.

  Jocelyn wasn’t as experienced in the bedroom, but she knew enough. Men could turn into primitive beasts with the right provocation, especially in the bedroom. He hadn’t stopped touching her, leaving her bare and open, so it took no courage to say, “That wasn’t fucking me. I’m already disappointed.”

  The gray in his irises darkened, and he eased her back, stood, turned her around and pushed her onto the bed. There was nothing but a soft sea of mattress and satin that felt cool against her skin.

  “Arse up,” he growled.

  Even with the command, Ian’s touch was gentle as he glided his hands down her spine, repositioned her the way he needed—spreading her legs wider, back arched higher, and face pressed into that cool satin. A wanton thrill pumped through her blood. At the command, at him, the smell of his sheets—decadent, enough so she almost bit into them just for a taste—her senses felt alive. She felt alive.

  Jocelyn stayed that way for seconds, though it felt like eons, until his index finger caressed the seam of her sex before dipping into her. He was getting her ready for him. She wanted to turn around to watch, but his teasing ministrations had her on the brink again. Now, she had something to tighten around, but still nothing to milk.

  He dragged his finger from her clit to the entrance of her sex and stopped. His breath panted out. “Your arse is tight. Something else you’ve never done?”

  She felt exposed and the words refused to spill out so she shook her head.

  “Relax.” His voice softened. “I won’t touch you there unless you tell me it’s your fantasy.”

  Her fingers loosened on the comforter and she nodded again. Her knees dug into the bed while her feet hung off the edge. He shifted behind her, his bare thighs brushing the backs of hers. His hand rested on her tailbone and then she felt him, his cock at her core.

  The rubber of the condom didn’t dim the effect of his dick swirling around her channel and hooded nub, round and round, lubricating him, preparing him for her. Her legs trembled and her hands fisted into the cover.

  The anticipation was going to kill her. She could practically hear her frantic heartbeat. Ian felt thick and hot as he soaked his dick with her arousal, but then he pressed down into her and she knew just hot and thick he was. He stretched her wide and deep in that first thrust. So full of him but not enough. She moaned, clenching her sex to keep him there. His next thrust was harder, and he groaned.

  Not enough, her mind screamed. She needed harder, dirtier and something just shy of vulgar. Teasing words tickled the back of her throat, and she had no urge to swallow them. Where was the man who said fuck and meant it? That man got her off. That man didn’t treat her like glass. And those words would give her what she needed—to feel alive, to feel like he craved her.

  “That’s still not fucking me.”

  His fingers buried in her hips and he thrust harder, deeper and faster. Over and over. The rhythmic pounding undid her. Heat flashed through her body and had her biting into the cover. That decadent scent reminded her of sandalwood, potent and somehow masculine. The scent transformed into a taste and filled her mouth. Musky. Man. Him. Her stomach tightened and she curled into the orgasm, slamming her ass back against him as she clenched hard and long around him.

  He stopped and rode out the climax with her, breath rasping out but as soon as she relaxed, he pulled her back, gliding her sex over his cock. In and out. Pounding. Pounding. Every time she came, he’d stop, revel in it and start again. Deep and hard.

  Her legs didn’t hang off the edge of the bed at some point. They’d screwed their way to th
e middle. If they kept going they might end up on the floor, on the other side. She now understood what he meant about breaking furniture kind of fucking. If the bed wasn’t as sturdy, they’d have collapsed it by now. Yes, he rocked his cock into her but when Jocelyn could feel her legs, she rocked back. She lost track of time and the count of orgasms.

  Finally, she whimpered, “Wait,” and laid on her stomach, not able to hold herself up on her arms anymore.

  “Tapping out,” he murmured, but she could hear the laugh.

  “No.” She closed her eyes and sprawled on the bed.

  Ian wrapped his arm around the bend in her right knee and pushed it up. He rested his body over hers and then bore down into her. Slowly. So achingly slow, he stroked her to yet another climax. This time he tensed, letting out a coarse groan before he shuddered behind her. All of his frame relaxed into hers, weighing her down into the mattress.

  Jocelyn didn’t care. Was sort of surprised she could put together any thoughts that weren’t eiadih agdiap blgft. He dug his hands beneath her and rolled onto his back. His chest rose and fell on a fast pace. His heart labored beneath her ear, but all she could do was lay there.

  “Your bun fell loose,” he said.

  “Hmm.”

  “I like your hair down.”

  “Hmm.”

  He chuckled. “Have I killed you dead?”

  “Brraiiinnnsss.”

  “Fucking music to my ears.”

  It took a bit of effort but she rolled off him. He was right. She’d lost her hair band and her hair was damp, tangled and looked like only God knew what. They were both drenched in sweat. If she let it dry without rinsing off first, she’d smell dipped in sex, dipped in him. Jocelyn couldn’t have been more pleased.

  Ian chuckled as he did away with the condom, tying the end and tossing it in the small trashcan near the nightstand. “Already thinking about what’s next?”

  Her gaze slid down and her breath caught. Thick, hard and long. Again. She hadn’t recovered fully. He met her shocked stare with another smirk. Oh, miles and miles of bronzed, sculpted skin. Old scars. Tanned nipples. Male perfection.

  “Yes,” she said, breathless.

  “You’re trying to kill me. I’m fragile, Joce,” he said with a tired laugh. “Tomorrow?”

  Greedily her eyes raked over his bronzed skin. Miles of muscles, too. Just beautiful. And she had an all access pass. Jocelyn was bound to hurt herself trying to get her fill.

  “If you say so.” She swallowed but her throat was Sahara dry.

  Swinging her legs off the edge of the bed, she found enough of her clothes to get dressed. Her panties had disappeared to the depths of the unknown. Ian stayed quiet, but she refused to look at him. Things might be awkward enough as is.

  But after slipping into her shoes, she chanced a glance back at the bed. Bare-assed and asleep. He hadn’t bothered to pull the cover over himself. She narrowed her gaze. No. He wasn’t pretending. Now that she’d stopped stumbling around the room with her back to him, she could hear the light snores and see his chest rising and falling. Sleep. He looked harmless. Like any man. Not at all like someone who just tipped her sexual world upside down.

  She almost stepped forward to drag the cover over him, but that was flirting with trouble. Hell, they hadn’t even kissed. Standing there, watching him while she was fully clothed, Jocelyn still felt stripped bare like a part of her had devolved to grunts and yearnings. Not sure how to deal with that, she left his opulent apartment and didn’t look back.

  Chapter Four

  Ian braced himself before stepping into Jocelyn’s office the next morning. He’d mentally prepared for awkwardness, guilt or embarrassment. Numerous other emotions that would show last night had changed how they’d react to each other while at work. He feared she would change her mind.

  Feeling half drugged, he’d awoken in the middle of the night, sucked in a breath and smelled their sex scent. He smelled of her—a sweet musk that seemed to have bite and still be completely feminine. A fragrance he hadn’t wanted to shower off anytime soon.

  A soft growl had emitted from his throat and he’d reached for the other side of the bed, expecting to find a warm, soft woman who was more than ready to be fucked again. He’d roll over and drag her beneath him for another round. Instead, he’d grasped at air. Curses filled his empty apartment because she’d gone. Troublesome, because he’d yet to eradicate the need for the taste of her.

  Pounding into her until his leg muscles screamed in agony hadn’t been enough. Her come slicking his dick hadn’t even touched the hunger. He wanted to know why she’d crept out of his apartment while he slept. He needed to see her in order to read whatever emotions flitted across her lovely face.

  Apparently he wasn’t going to get that answer just yet. He scowled at the empty office. Her degrees still lined the walls. The Christmas picture of her mum, da, sister and her wearing hideous matching Christmas sweaters. Tucked in the corner sat her water bottle reserves. Even Garfield still sat atop the file cabinet, but no forgotten cup of coffee cluttered her desk.

  At 8:30 a.m. this was where he could always find her. Where in the hell was she?

  “Oh, there you are.” Her husky voice slid down his spine straight to his dick.

  He faced her, gaze watchful. Her teeth sank into a corner of her mouth, reminding him of everything they’d done and all that they hadn’t yet. She grasped a cup of coffee with one hand and the other rested on the door jamb. She wore something frilly that complimented the spring weather, and her heels had floppy bows in the back.

  None of that hardened his cock to an uncomfortable girth. Today, for the first time, the chocolate-brown strands of her hair framed her heart-shaped face. The glint in her eye told him exactly what he needed to know. She wore it that way to drive him crazy. There was something else there too, in her gaze, but he didn’t know what it was. Didn’t matter. Lust, he knew. And, no, he wasn’t close to being done with her yet.

  “Looking for me?” he asked.

  “I need a rush job on the ritual ax. Security is here to set up the display.”

  He nodded. “Just one more thing to be done and it’s all yours.”

  “Okay. I’ve got a meeting in five minutes. I’ll check on you when it’s over.”

  “Aye.” And then for the second time in twenty-four hours she was gone. His gaze narrowed at the complete lack of emotion.

  “Curious creature,” he murmured.

  Her cool as a fan reaction to him this morning didn’t jive with the woman he’d gotten to know over the past few weeks. Aloof, flippant and Jocelyn didn’t exactly go hand in hand. Not even a joke was uttered. He didn’t know how to respond to that and it threw him off-kilter.

  Ian usually knew how to react to a woman he’d slept with who suddenly donned a new personality. Usually he dealt with it by not caring as long as emotions didn’t start cropping up that complicated things more than they needed to be. Sex could just be sex. Many people liked it better when it was more. Not him. And, yet…he rolled his shoulders and scowled at the empty doorway.

  Maybe not having sex with coworkers had left him out of practice dealing with this sort of thing. Didn’t matter, because she’d worn her hair down.

  For him.

  “Hungry?” Ian threw over his shoulder as he crossed the borrowed flat’s threshold.

  The jacket was the first to go, then the tie and finally, his shoes and shirt. He glanced back and caught the widening of her eyes and the nervous swallow. Ah. She hadn’t really seen him naked the day before. He’d spent most of his time behind her. His mouth quirked into a smile, but he didn’t miss a step and guided them to the kitchen.

  “Can’t eat. Not—” She cleared her throat and he glanced at her again.

  He laughed, opened the refrigerator. “And why not?”

  “You would make me say it, wouldn’t you?”

  “I must know everything.”

  “You’re full of it,” she said.

 
; “I am.”

  He sniffed at the Chinese food and it passed the test. He grabbed a bottle of water and got her one too. Filling a cup with ice, he leaned back against the counter and ate for a moment. She’d taken off the blazer that spruced up the dress and heels. Still neatly covered, but what he could see was more than enough to tantalize him. Her nipples strained against the silk dress despite the warmth of his flat. Her reaction had everything to do with him and that satisfied him more. She must have tired of her hair getting in the way, because she’d tamed it back into a ponytail.

  “Eating and then being contorted into a pretzel is not conductive to the digestive system.” She fidgeted under his intent stare.

  “Ach. You’re using big words on me. Take the water just in case you get thirsty.” He dug deeper into the container but there wasn’t much left to wolf down. He flicked his wrist, rolling his watch face up and tried to calculate delivery service of pizza or anything. “I’m starving.”

  “You’ve got nothing but bachelor food in there, I’m guessing.”

  He motioned to the refrigerator and shook the take-out box so everything fell into one corner.

  She opened the refrigerator. “How long has this pizza been in here?”

  “Long enough to turn into a science project.” He laughed at the look she gave him. “What? I’ve been busy at the museum. Rarely here. Matter of fact, this is the most I’ve spent in the flat between yesterday and right now, outside of sleeping.”

  “You’ve got eggs. Sandwich meat. Stinky cheese.” She huffed. “You can make something.”

  “If I wanted to cook. This,” he shook the empty carton, “didn’t even need to be warmed.”

  She blinked at him and closed the door. He tossed the thin cardboard box in the trash, trying not to laugh. From his teen years on, his ’fridge never looked any different. Darwinism at its best. Order out or you’d have to scrounge around in the refrigerator for something that looked less likely to kill you if ingested. Not always that way. Not when his mum bothered to be around, but habits were hard to break. He wasn’t a teen anymore though, and if Jocelyn would be here a lot…