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

by Kristine Cayne

  Common sense told her to end them now. Get out before things got any more confusing, but he was watching her with an intent expression, seeming to hold his breath for what she’d say next. It was dumb to read anything more into the pensive look on his face.

  So, she let out a breath and said, “What’s in the bag, Ian?”

  His mouth crooked up. “Show me to your room and I’ll show you.”

  Didn’t take long for Jocelyn to rip off her clothes and make her way to her bedroom. He followed close behind and she glanced back. He was stepping out of his underwear, bag in hand.

  She climbed into her four-poster bed, onto the soft red comforter. He was right on her heels. The plastic bag rustled as he put it down and then his hands were running up her waist, over her breasts up to her hair. She trembled. The pads of his fingertips felt like silk along her skin. They were so close they were practically spooned together.

  He loosened the band around her hair, leaned down to her ear and whispered, “I’ve a fantasy of my own.”

  His fingers continued moving up and down her skin. It was hard to concentrate with the pinpricks of sensuous caresses taking priority in her mind. His chest was hard and smooth at her back. “Oh,” she murmured.

  “Aye. Will you let me make it a reality?”

  His hands had already half-convinced her to say yes to anything, but what did he have in mind? Did she care when he plucked at her nipples until they snapped back taut? His cock a hard, concrete promise pressing at her entrance…

  No. Not really. She swallowed, because what did he fantasize about? What turned Ian on? “Yes.”

  “Lie down,” he said, but she heard the smile in his voice. “Give me a moment. I’ll be back.” The bag rustled again when he took it off the bed. “Bathroom?”

  She told him but couldn’t lay back and try to relax while the faucet turned on and off, on and off. Looking at her one wouldn’t know that it drove her a bit wild for Ian to spank her clit with his dick before driving into her hard. Damn. She was getting wet just thinking about it. In a sense, she knew getting her off got him off.

  Seriously, what the hell was he doing in the bathroom?

  The door creaked open and she laid down.

  “You know, I saw you,” he said, coming back into the room.

  She giggled and propped herself up on an elbow. “Was hoping you wouldn’t. It’s killing me. What you got?”

  He flipped his hand over and showed her a black piece of cloth, silk, and a…glass dildo. Her gaze flicked to his. “Oh.”

  “Come here.” He climbed into the bed with her, resting on his haunches. She hesitated and he put down the cloth. “Nervous of what I want?”

  “Curious,” she said with caution.

  “You can tell me to stop if you don’t like it. I’m not tying you up but blindfolding you.”

  She bit her lip. “But you think I will? Like it?”

  He made a sound of assent. She took another moment and nodded, allowing him to play out his fantasy. He folded the strip of cloth once more and pressed closer, their gazes met and she inched forward, head tilting up. His mouth was inches away and a shocking thought hit her—they’d never kissed.

  Unbelievable when she thought of all the things they’d done. On their own accord, her fingers lifted to his mouth. Not at all plump or full, but soft, paler and pinker than his tanned skin. She wanted to kiss him then to know how he tasted, if he kissed with the same fervor of passion as he fucked, but he froze at the touch.

  Maybe he realized the same thing—they hadn’t kissed. Or maybe he’d made sure they never did. Kissing was an intimacy they should avoid, that much she could agree with as Jocelyn looked deep into his startling blue-gray gaze. She wanted to see something other than lust. She wanted to find true intimacy, a connection in the way he gazed at her. If she saw anything, it was because she wanted to see it. Jocelyn let her hand drop away and closed her eyes.

  Gently he secured the silk around her head and over her vision. When done, he pushed at her shoulder and she took the silent command to lie back.

  “Relax, I’m not going to do anything we haven’t done before.” He added and again a laugh colored his words, “Many times.”

  His hand grasped her left thigh and she jolted. He made a soothing noise and slid in between her legs, one hand gliding up her torso. Maybe it had everything to do with him touching her without being able to see him do it, but her senses felt heightened. His touch always sparked an insatiable desire within her, but now it burned that need to cinders, transformed it into something new, inconceivable.

  And then his mouth traced the outline of her jaw, down to her neck and lingered until she moaned. One hand continued to alternate between massaging one breast and plucking the tightened peak. His mouth replaced his hand.

  The warmth of his tongue drifted from her nipples. Cold. The dildo. He caressed the tip over her nipple. The beaded nub became painfully erect at the differing sensations. He’d glide the glass over and around her nipple, spreading the moisture from his kiss, and then it was his mouth again.

  She fisted her hands into the covers when he licked his way to her other breast and teased another moan from her lips with the same care. The bed shifted. Anticipation made her skin prickle and shortened her breaths. Suddenly, he cupped her mound, groaned against her skin as his fingers dipped into her wet channel. Petting her pussy, he continued the seduction on her breasts. It made her ache. Made her forget seduction wasn’t what she wanted from him.

  She couldn’t care or think as his mouth and dildo made its way down to her sex. Slick from his fingers, he suckled her clit into his mouth and pressed the glass to the entrance of her slit. Warm and cold. Soft and hard. So goddamn wanton.

  He was going to use a sex toy to get her off and she’d agreed. She couldn’t see him, but he could see every inch of her. Was his cock still hard? Dripping pre-come on her comforter because this drove him over the edge? She moaned. The reality of what they were doing crashed down on her so suddenly she came without much provocation.

  It didn’t stop his seduction. She couldn’t see it, but felt the cool glass press along her inner thigh. She gasped. He ran his tongue down to her cream and licked it all up. He groaned against her pussy and worked his way back up to her clit. Each time she came, he’d repeat the action and then work the dildo in deeper. The glass borrowed the warmth of her body. He changed the angle of thrusts and her fist balled into the comforter. His fingers brushed against her with every downward stroke, adding another element of friction that would send her over the edge, again.

  He ripped his mouth away and bit into the soft part of her inner thigh. “You’ve drenched my hand and mouth. And I’m not done with you yet.”

  Words were beyond her, but she moaned her approval.

  “But enough. Time for my dick to get some of that. What do you say?”

  “Ian,” seemed to be the only word that mattered and she murmured it. He was gone for only a moment, but really her legs and arms quivered from the intensity of what he’d done, she couldn’t have moved any damn way.

  He ripped off the blindfold and with no ceremony bore down into her. The toy had been nice, but this is what she’d craved. What she’d probably beg for if he made her. And she would. Jocelyn held no shame in that need.

  “I want you to see you come. Watch it in yer eyes.” He groaned when she clenched on his cock.

  He threw her legs over his forearms and dragged her nearer. She was close already and then he began to pump hard and deeper into her, never letting his gaze waver from hers. Her moans deepened in tone and her vision seemed to darken around the edges.

  “Yeah. Just like that,” he said, voice husky. “Come on my dick, just like that.” He reached between them and flicked his thumb over her achingly swollen clit.

  That’s all it took. Her pussy tightened around his thick girth and milked him. He shuddered and thrust deeper, damn near growling when he came with her. His lips peeled back with a guttural sna
rl and God, she wanted to kiss him. Just run her tongue over the seam of his mouth as he made that noise.

  The grip on her thighs loosened and he pulled out of her, lying down beside her and throwing an arm over her waist. He made a sound between a grunt and a curse. She held herself still so she wouldn’t curl into his warmth. They were both sweaty and smelled of sex. Nothing would have been better than to shut her eyes, find the crook of his neck and pass out in it.

  But that’s not what they were. She glanced down at his arm. A thoughtless or possessive action? They never cuddled. They never talked about her leaving after sex. Had he wanted her to stay all those times she crept out after he went to sleep? But…his arm felt good. Her bed felt warm. She wanted to sleep too. It wasn’t a big deal. If it turned out to be, they’d talk about it, finally. Or make some more ground rules. Ones that included sleeping over and how that was okay and no big damn deal.

  Decided, she flopped on her stomach, pressed her face into a pillow. The movement didn’t dislodge his arm, it warmed her back now. It felt so damn good. She stopped worrying about it and fell asleep.

  Chapter Eight

  Something cold, wet and a little rough bumped his hand and jolted him from sleep. Curved, almost whimsical bed-posts greeted his view. The mahogany wood definitely wasn’t his, or the soft cotton comforter beneath his arse. Light spilled in from the hallway. Groggy, he leaned a bit to look over on the floor to see Lexxie bumping his hand, his shirt in her mouth like a chew toy.

  “I really hope you didn’t eat any of the shirt. It could kill you, you know?”

  Glancing at his other side, Jocelyn continued to slumber. He pulled the cover over her naked form and then slipped out of her bed. Ian sighed. He was a dobber. An absolute dobber, for fucking her, for staying. For breathing in her scent and reveling in the fact that she smelled like him.

  Earlier, he’d taken off the condom in the bathroom, slapped water on his face, passed by his clothes to lie down for another moment to catch his breath. He’d fallen asleep instead. She hadn’t pushed him off the mattress with a nice shove if he didn’t get the message to go home. Here he was, not bolting for his clothes so he could make his escape. He glanced down at the pup and scooped up the little troublemaker.

  “And if you didn’t swallow any bits of my shirt, you’ve probably pissed on her rug. She’ll kill you. It’s an antique. The only one she owns from what I can see.”

  Gently he freed his shirt. Some tears but nothing missing. “Good, you didn’t. But, I’m sure you’ve pissed the rug. Let’s go hide the evidence.”

  He wasn’t exactly whispering, but still Jocelyn didn’t move. Ian squinted at her. Yeah. Asleep. Not faking it, hoping he’d get the message. The real question he ought to ask himself, why wasn’t he gone? Lexxie whined and he pressed her closer to his chest.

  He was being nice that’s why. He’d let her sleep and take care of her dog while she did. Checking the time on her nightstand clock, it was barely midnight, but a long time since the last feeding and for a short stint outside.

  Not bothering with the shirt, he found his pants, slipped into them and didn’t fix the belt buckle. He discovered some leftover grocery bags under the sink and took Lexxie out. Done in almost a literal two shakes, he came back into the first floor flat.

  Jocelyn hadn’t woken up, so he prepped a bowl for the dog and wondered why he wasn’t trying to leave. He meant what he said. They were dating. In a way. No need to feel discomfort for lingering in her apartment.

  The sex was a bit different tonight, but of course it would be. He’d played out one of his own fantasies. No big deal that he suddenly had the urge to wake her up with a kiss and do it all over again, just as slow, nothing rough. A lingering, sensuous glide into what they loved to do with each other.

  No big fucking deal if Ian wasn’t rubbish a good part of the time, and he signed up to teach her to be more like him. That lingering, sensuous glide he wanted tonight only meant he hadn’t gotten his fill of her yet. He started to worry he may not ever. The Kama Sutra had sixty-four positions, but that still wouldn’t be enough. Some positions she might love more than others. He loved watching her love it. He’d have to do it again. Just for her.

  Ach. Fuck.

  He was leaving and there was no changing that. He’d made commitments that would solidify his consultation business. He’d be gone and couldn’t ask her to wait. His father had waited for a woman. Even if his mother had only gone for a few weeks that last time, those moments until she did return would have slowly killed his father anyway. She traveled most of their relationship until one day she didn’t come back. His father had been locked in a relationship with an absent partner and it sucked watching it kill a small part of his da every time his mother left.

  No. Just no. Would Joce want him aside from being a good lay? All signs pointed to no and that gripped his gut hard and twisted. She’d touch his lips and looked as though she’d kiss him. They hadn’t and, still, he was reeling by how much he suddenly needed to. When the woman wanted something, she’d learned to ask for it. She hadn’t asked so didn’t want to kiss him. He was a number on her bucket list. Exactly what he always wanted. So why was his jaw clenched so hard at the thought she didn’t want to kiss him?

  Lexxie whined at his feet. Ian picked her up, placed her on the island in front of him and told the troublesome thoughts to bugger off. She bumped his face with her cold, wet nose and he tried to smile. “You know, I’m half in love with you already? All you need to do is the puppy dog eyes and I’m done for.”

  Her butt hit the wood and her tongue lolled out, eyes getting bigger as she did. “I had to say something, didn’t I?”

  She did a doggy grin at him. Ach. His heart tripped and fell and Ian laughed at the light spill of emotion.

  “What’s so funny?” Jocelyn asked groggily.

  “Lexxie’s trying to wrap me around her paw and it’s working.”

  He glanced up. Hair a bit messy from sleep, she looked confused but pleased. His stomach clenched. This was his chance to leave but his feet refused to move. Lexxie whimpered and scuttled closer to him.

  “Do I look that bad?”

  “You look nicely rumpled.”

  “No need to lie. Got a glimpse in a mirror and almost pissed myself until I realized it was me.” She looked rumpled.

  She’d probably expected him to be gone and hadn’t bothered to clean herself up. She padded over to the refrigerator and murmured a “thank God” and started pulling stuff out.

  “I’m starving so I’m about to cook,” she said. “I know you’re hungry. Take care of my pooch? This might take a while.”

  Without question, he should have shot down the invitation, but they were dating. He could do this. Spending time together out of bed wasn’t a complete no-no. They did all the time at work. Now they’d do it here.

  He told himself one lie after another until the tension in his shoulders ebbed. “Need me to move?”

  She flicked a glance toward him and bit the curve of her smile. “You’re fine. I know you like to watch me.”

  “There is that.” He cupped Lexxie’s bottom and brought her up to his chest. She curled into the crook of his arm and fell asleep within seconds. “What’re you making us?”

  “Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans and biscuits.” She squinted. “Something like bread rolls, to you.”

  His brows rose. “That hungry?”

  “Yup. When was your last homemade meal?”

  He shrugged. “Haven’t been home in a while.”

  “Not exactly what I meant, but now I’m curious. Glasgow’s home, right?”

  “Where I grew up. Cold for no reason most of the year, but sometimes I miss it. My brother can take care of himself and does so badly. He’s a dobber, too. More so than me. And Da…he’s getting older. Him I miss.”

  “Most parents do when you’re not looking.” She broke out the chicken, already thawed. She must have planned dinner earlier. A large offe
ring for just herself.

  He opened the ’fridge and looked inside. Nothing like his. Hers had order and was clean. Tupperware galore, but one could only eat leftovers for so many days before getting sick of them.

  “If you’re looking for the heads of the men I’ve slept with, they aren’t in there. Grab me the flour. Bottom shelf.”

  “Looking at leftovers,” he said and then smiled at her.

  “Third shelf, red top. That should hold you over until I’m finished.”

  When he passed over the flour, he saw the tray of canned rolls. So that wasn’t going to be homemade and that relaxed him even more. He wasn’t dealing with Betty Crocker.

  “Who’s getting older for you?” he asked and didn’t take anything out. He could wait.

  “Mother. Calls me once a week with a list of things not working like they used to. Last week it was her knee. Dad’s as spry as ever, probably won’t retire as a principal for a while yet.”

  She grabbed an apron from the hook by the stove, covering the long nightshirt she’d pulled on. The tightened strings pulled the shirt up enough he could see the boxers and luscious beautiful legs. She made the male piece of clothing feminine, sexy. Already, he wanted to jump her again.

  Giving the thought and her some distance, he went back to leaning against the island. There was no nervous fumbling because she had an audience. He wondered how many times she cooked for a man.

  The thought lodged between his stomach and heart. Yeah, he broke a lot of ground in bed for her but not here. His gaze strayed toward the door and he sighed. No. Still couldn’t force himself to go. How often would a beautiful woman, fantastic in bed, too, offer to feed him and want him to stay?

  Not ever.

  “Your mother or is it mum?” she asked.

  Ah. That’s why he didn’t do this. “Having a great life from what I hear.”

  Her gaze narrowed on him for a moment, but then she continued seasoning the meat while making a noncommittal noise. “That sucks.”