by Nina West
His gaze rolls slowly over me. “I never said I was going anywhere.”
My towel doesn’t feel secure enough, as if merely a look from him could pull it down. I resist the urge to fumble with it. “What do you want?”
He swings his legs off the edge of the bed and pulls himself up to sit. “Seems I’m missing something important from my room.”
I turn my back to him and begin rifling through my dresser for clothes. I’m assuming he’s talking about his condoms, which are still under his bed. “Oh yeah? When did you notice it missing?”
My bed creaks as he stands. “Last night.” Suddenly Ronan’s directly behind me, his strong frame looming. “When I was going to come in here to see you.”
My stomach clenches with nerves. He was going to come here last night? That means he would have been going for a condom.
That means he wanted sex again.
I struggle to keep my voice indifferent. I don’t want him to know how he affects me. “You should keep better track of your important things.”
His deep chuckle vibrates along my spine. I watch with shock as, reaching around me, Ronan collects the framed picture of my mom and me, the three books, and the jewelry box that decorate the top of my chest of drawers, and tosses them to my bed.
“Hey! What are you—” My words drop with a yelp as he grabs my hips, spins me around, and hoists me up to sit atop it. He’s so damn strong.
Without any preamble, he tugs at my towel until it falls open, laying me bare. Pushing my thighs apart, he leans forward.
I watch, my jaw hanging open in shock, as Ronan’s mouth settles between my legs.
“Have you ever heard of foreplay?” I finally manage in a whisper.
“This is foreplay.”
Whatever resistance I might have put up dissolves in a puddle as his tongue slides over my center.
“Why’d you take my condoms, Ryan?”
Because I didn’t want you sleeping with anyone else while you’re here?
I don’t answer, instead reaching down to grip the back of his head, his short, near-black hair soft against my fingertips.
He smiles against me, his hands gripping my thighs tighter, pulling me forward until part of me is afraid I might fall right off the dresser. Ronan would never allow that, though. I don’t know him, but I somehow know that.
“You are sweet, after all. Who knew.” He doesn’t relent, doesn’t hint at stopping. Not like David, who only occasionally did this for me, and only for long enough to mark off an invisible checkmark in the decent boyfriend column.
“Do you like doing that?”
He pauses long enough to meet my gaze. “Do I like doing what?”
“That.”
“Eating you out?”
Oh my God. My stomach tenses. “Yeah.”
“I love it.” His mouth seals over me again. My inhibitions quickly fade and that pressure begins to build deep inside me. I relax and open up to him, stroking the back of his head.
When I finally come, it’s with Ronan’s tongue deep inside me, bucking against his face, crying out with complete abandon.
He stands. His lips graze over my nipple, teasing it with his breath. “How was that for foreplay?”
“Fine,” I manage. Dear God, he should teach the art of going down on a woman.
“Where is my box of condoms, Ryan?”
“Under your bed,” I answer through pants, my eyes closed.
He pulls me down with ease, setting me on the bed, where I sprawl out, boneless. I’m vaguely aware of him leaving the room, only to return thirty seconds later, his shirt missing and a foil packet in his hand, his track pants hanging low on his hips, the V of his pelvis leading down to the hard ridge of his erection.
I sigh with pathetic need.
He pushes his waistband down to his thighs and takes his length in his palm. With languid strokes, he rubs himself in front of me. “You thought I was going to bring someone home last night, didn’t you? That’s why you hid these?”
“Why didn’t you?”
He opens his mouth, but falters. “I didn’t feel like it.” I get the impression he was going to say something different.
He tears the foil wrapper with his teeth and rolls the condom onto himself with one hand, his gaze never leaving mine.
For the briefest of seconds, I consider closing my legs, denying him. But I quickly dismiss that crazy thought, because the truth is I’m aching to feel Ronan inside me again. I enjoyed it. I enjoy the idea of him wanting me.
He flips me over and pulls me to my knees with no warning, smoothing his palms over my backside. “Damn, this ass…,” he murmurs. The mattress sinks under his weight as he kneels behind me.
“What about it?” I fail to keep the apprehension from my voice. I’ve always been self-conscious about my round hips, emphasized by my slender waist. In fact, this is my least favorite position because of it. I never let David take me like this.
“It’s fucking beautiful.”
“Really?”
He drags his thumb along my crack, making me tense. “I could stare at it all day.” He grips each side tight, and I feel his tip begin to prod my opening, still swollen and sensitive.
And so wet.
I close my eyes as he pushes into me, overwhelmed by his size from this angle. I take him in quickly enough though. And sigh with an unexpected surge of relief at the fullness when he’s buried.
His phone chirps. “Shit… we only have a few minutes. You took too long in the shower.” He pushes my chest against the mattress and hikes my ass up higher in the air.
“What do you mean? Is Connor on his way—” My words are cut off with a yelp as he begins thrusting into me at that same relentless pace as the other night, just before he came.
I don’t fight the gasps and moans that slip from my mouth this time, fisting the covers, his skin slapping against mine, a repetitive and tawdry sound. It’s almost unbearable, the way he pounds into me, my mind torn between the odd pleasurable pain he’s delivering and worry that my brother’s going to walk in. It’s distracting enough that my orgasm catches me by surprise, just as Ronan’s pulsing deep inside me with his own.
My muscles barely have time to stop constricting around him when he abruptly pulls out. He leaves, pulling my bedroom door shut behind him.
Disappointment doesn’t even have time to settle in before I hear Connor hollering at the door for Ronan to give him a hand unloading the car.
Oh, my God. That was so close. That was probably Connor texting him.
I press my lips together to keep from laughing.
What the hell are we doing?
And why am I enjoying this so much?
Chapter 10
“She lives!” Connor exclaims as I emerge from my room around eight on Saturday night, my stomach growling with hunger. He and Ronan are lazing on the couch, watching a basketball game. “What have you been doing all day?”
“The same thing I do every Saturday. My assignments. Studying.” I stroll toward the fridge, stealing a lightning-fast glance at Ronan.
A wave of excitement courses through me.
“How many more years of school do you have, anyway?” Connor caps the question off with a belch.
“Just one.” If I can concentrate enough to pass my exams. It’s been a struggle, staring at my textbooks and notes all day while my ears remain open, listening for any sound that might indicate Ronan’s going to pay me another visit. They were out late last night again, and when they stumbled through the door, Ronan was alone again. He went straight to bed, while I lay in bed for a good hour, listening, thinking that maybe he was waiting for me, that maybe I should go over there. Finally, I drifted off.
“Hey, would you be a sweet, kind sister and bring over some beers for us?”
“It’s not fair,” I mutter, pulling two off the top shelf. If I ate and drank like they did, I’d balloon. Keeping my expression smooth, I wander over to the couch, handing Connor’s beer to hi
m first, then one to Ronan.
Ronan’s fingers graze mine in the exchange.
“Hey.” Connor frowns up at me. “You look different.”
“That’s because you’re drunk.”
“No… are you wearing makeup?”
“So what?” I turn my back to him, wanting to hide the flush in my cheeks. I went to Ulta today to pick up my face moisturizer, and I was waylaid by a saleswoman who asked if she could try out a new mascara on my lashes. Normally I pass, but she was so stunningly beautiful and she said she was wearing that very mascara, that I wanted to see what it could do for me.
I bought the mascara, along with the gold eye shadow she swiped across my lids.
“So, you never wear makeup.”
“Not never.” Just hardly ever.
“Well, definitely not when you’re sitting in your room all day, studying.”
“Whatever. It’s no big deal. Drop it.”
But he’s not relenting. “You trying to look good for Ronan?”
“Why would I want to do that?” I force scorn into my voice while my cheeks burn. This is humiliating.
“Leave her alone,” Ronan murmurs. “You’re just going to make her angry, and she’ll take it out on me.”
“Fair enough. Hey, we’re having a farewell party here next Friday night.”
I groan. I was dreading this. I can’t say much because this is Connor’s condo and he lets me live here for next to nothing in rent.
“It’ll be fine.”
“The cops showed up last time!”
“We’ll keep it under control.”
“I had to buy all new bedding!”
“That guy is not invited back. I promise.”
“And who’s going to clean up if you two are gone the next day?”
“Maria from the first floor. We’ll get rid of all the trash and empties, and leave cash for her.”
“Don’t you just have all the answers.” I just shake my head. “I want a lock on my door.”
Connor’s phone chirps with a text. He dismisses my request with a “Fine” as he reads his message. “Hey, Sherrie and Georgia are going to Sin tonight. You wanna go? VIP table again.”
“No thanks.”
“What? They were smoking hot!” From the corner of my eye, I watch Ronan take a long sip of his beer.
“Been there, done that.”
“What’s wrong with you? You turned down that blonde last night. Now you’re saying no to these two. Is your dick not working or are you getting something somewhere that I don’t know about?”
Please be too dense to figure it out, dear idiot brother.
I stick my head in the fridge, afraid Connor will see the answer in my face.
Or that he’ll see my stupid grin of satisfaction, hearing that Ronan isn’t picking up other girls.
Thankfully, Connor’s phone rings, distracting him. “Shit, I gotta take this.” He sighs. “Hey, Mom… Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. I’ve been busy… You know, same old. Next Saturday… Yeah, it should be a blast.”
I take the opportunity to glance over, to catch Ronan’s eyes on my ass. He lifts his gaze to meet mine, to see my quirked brow, the one that says I’ve caught him.
With a sexy, crooked smile, he subtly nods toward our rooms. Easing off the couch, he saunters down the hall, disappearing into the bathroom.
“Five months… Sorry, I don’t think I can make it.” Connor’s mom is no doubt asking him to visit her in Orlando. “Yeah, she’s here. Studying. Always studying. Broke up with the douche bag.”
I roll my eyes but throw a wave Connor’s way.
“She says hi.”
With nervous flutters in the pit of my stomach, I collect my container of veggies and hummus and my water and head toward my room. I get as far as the bathroom when the door opens. Ronan reaches out and, grabbing hold of my wrist, pulls me in.
“What are you doing?” I hiss.
He takes my dishes and sets them on the vanity. “How long do you think he’ll be occupied?”
“A while. Twenty minutes. Maybe thirty?” Connor’s mom, Danielle, loves to talk. They’ll be on for a while.
“That should be enough time,” he murmurs.
“We can’t. Connor’s right there.” Even as I deny him, my hands smooth over his chest, the soft cotton of his T-shirt hugging his curves deliciously. It’s the first chance I’ve had to touch him so freely like this.
His fist curls around my ponytail and he begins to pull, tilting my head back until I can see his face. “Then you shouldn’t have stuck your ass in the air like that, wearing these.” His molten green eyes settle on my mouth as a finger pinches at my leggings, stretching them.
I so badly want him to kiss me.
He leans forward, and I think he’s going to grant my wish. But he veers at the last minute, the heat of his breath skating over my cheek. His lips settle on my neck. “I need to come, Ryan,” he whispers, the tip of his tongue dancing over my skin, sending shivers all the way to my nipples. “I need you to make me come right now.”
I hear the “Okay,” slip from my mouth, unbidden.
He leads me back three steps until the backs of my legs hit the toilet and I’m forced to a sitting position. His rough hands are so gentle, grazing the underside of my chin, the soft pad of his thumb smoothing over my bottom lip. Then his thumb is sliding in and I find myself sucking it involuntarily.
With his free hand he tugs his track pants down, and his hard length springs free.
It’s another first for me, the chance to grip him in my hand, to revel in the feel of his smooth, soft skin against my palm.
I shake my head.
“What?”
“It’s just… we seem to be running around the bases in the wrong direction.”
He groans softly, his head tipping back as I run my thumb over his tip. “I don’t care which direction we’re running in, as long as it ends with me coming in your mouth.”
I hesitate. “Why didn’t you bring someone home last night?”
“Did you want me to?”
“No.” Is that wrong to admit?
“Well then….”
“Well then, what?”
“Well then, suck my dick, Ryan.” His hand slips from my jaw around to the back of my head. He pulls me forward.
I resist, even though desire is burning hot between my legs. “Say please.”
His brow arches. “Please take my dick in that vicious mouth of yours, Ryan.”
I oblige, running my tongue along the underside of him slowly. When I glance up, he’s staring down at me with a hard look.
I part my lips. An invitation.
He takes it, sliding into my mouth. I close over him, molding around his shape.
Connor’s voice carries from somewhere in the living room and it must be bothering Ronan, because he flips the switch for the fan, drowning it out.
I’ve never really liked giving head, but for some reason it’s different with Ronan. Maybe because our relationship is purely physical, and he turns me on like no other guy I’ve ever been with. I want him to enjoy this as much as I enjoyed him going down on me yesterday. So I do my best, pushing myself to take him in as deep as I can, until I’m forced to relent or start gagging. He seems to appreciate it, smoothing loose strands of hair off my forehead gently, whispering words of encouragement sweetly, his hand controlling the tempo. When it starts to speed up, when his breathing starts growing ragged, I know he’s close.
“That’s it, Ryan.” His hips start thrusting into my mouth and he suddenly swells even more. He hasn’t stopped watching. “Almost there….” His hand closes tight over my hair, until it’s almost hurting.
And then his seed begins squirting in warm, salty waves, hitting the back of my tongue. His lips are parted as he orgasms into my mouth, but aside from one low grunt, he manages to stay quiet.
He spends a long moment simply standing there, his breathing heavy, his hooded eyes settled on my face, his fingers stroki
ng my hair. “Thank you,” he whispers, and takes a step back, tucking himself back into his pants. Hitting the fan switch, he pauses to listen.
All I hear is the buzz of the voices on the TV. It sounds like Connor’s off the phone.
“See you later,” Ronan murmurs with a smile, stealing a carrot and ducking out.
I take a moment to glance at myself in the mirror—at my puffy lips, at my mussed hair, at the smears of black mascara around my eyes—and then I brush my teeth, grab my containers of food, and quietly sneak out to my room.
~ ~ ~ ~
It’s almost two in the morning when I hear commotion in the living room and female laughter. Plural female laughter.
I grit my teeth against the realization that Ronan’s courtesy has run out.
He’s brought someone home.
Disappointment overwhelms me. It’s followed closely by anger, at Ronan, but mostly at myself for thinking this would work. I’m just not programmed for casual sex. I can’t do it, even with a guy I have no interest in hanging out with if we’re not having sex.
Tears prick my eyes as I lie in the dark, listening to the creak of the floor in the hallway, his door opening.
Waiting for the inevitable.
Waiting for it to begin.
My heart skips when my bedroom door creaks open. For a split second I think it’s another directionally challenged naked drunk girl, but the brief stream of light allows me a glimpse of a naked Ronan instead.
He shuts the door behind him. A moment later, the sheets shift and pull, and then he’s lying down beside me, heat radiating off his body. “I know you’re awake,” he whispers, the sound of his voice stirring my blood. His breath—a mixture of toothpaste and a sweet liquor and tobacco—skates overs my face.
“How?”
His hand slides between my legs, his fingers slipping under my panties. “Because you’ve been lying in bed for hours, wondering what I’m doing at the bar, waiting for me to come home.” His finger draws along my slit. “Thinking about me.”
I have been doing that.
But now I shove his hand away. “Don’t you have someone waiting for you?”
“What?” I can hear the frown in his voice even if I can’t see it.
