by Jenna Sutton
Groaning under his breath, he closed his eyes. He tried to envision the chemical equation for yeast fermentation in his mind, but the only thing he could see was Ava Grace spread out on his bed, those long legs open wide, just for him.
Ava Grace spoke again, but he couldn’t hear her above the frantic beat of his pulse. She moved closer, and even the musty odor of the rickhouse couldn’t disguise her sweet scent.
Placing her palms on his chest, she lifted her head until their lips almost touched. She murmured something, her mouth brushing against his, and he dropped his hands to her waist. The feel of her warm skin made his cock even harder, and the muscles along his spine tightened with arousal.
“Jonah,” she whispered, and the use of his first name—the name no one ever used—finally got his attention.
He opened his eyes. “What?” he asked hoarsely.
“What’s in your pocket?”
Before he could stop her, she delved into his shirt pocket and pulled out the condom.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Ava Grace stared at the bright orange square in her hand. Its white lettering was barely visible in the dimly lit rickhouse, but she didn’t need to see to know what she held: a condom.
Questions buzzed through her head. Why did Beck have a condom in his shirt pocket? Why had Ellis given one to him? With whom was Beck going to use it?
It was the last question that made her chest tight. She didn’t want Beck to have sex with anyone but her.
She took a deep breath, trying to gather her thoughts. She and Beck were completely alone in a huge warehouse filled with wooden racks. They stretched high overhead, filled with barrels of bourbon, narrow rows in between. The air was moist and cool, kind of like a cave, and so quiet she could hear Beck’s harsh breaths.
Clenching the condom, she looked up at him. The lack of lighting made it difficult for her to read his expression, but she sensed he was as turned on as she was. He’d barely touched her, just his hands on her waist, yet her nipples were tight and pebbled under the stretchy lace of her bra, and the flesh between her legs was damp and throbbing.
As they stood there, still and silent, a long-ago conversation she’d had with a NASCAR champion flickered in her memory. He told her rookie drivers made the mistake of letting up on the gas when they were ahead. Experienced drivers did the opposite. They didn’t back off. They pushed the gas pedal to the floor.
She wasn’t going to make a rookie mistake by backing off. She was going to push.
She held up the condom in front of Beck, and his eyes almost crossed as he looked at it. “Do you have plans for this?” she asked.
His eyes shot to her face, wide with surprise. He swallowed visibly, his Adam’s apple bouncing with the movement.
“No?” she guessed when he didn’t answer. “That’s good. ‘Cause I do.”
His mouth fell open. “What?”
She tucked the condom into her bra, slid her hand between their bodies, and cupped it over his fly. He was long and hard under her fingers, and she stroked his erection through the denim of his jeans.
He moaned and pressed his hand over hers, holding it immobile. She wove the fingers of her other hand into his thick hair and brought his mouth to hers. She licked his lower lip and gave it a gentle nip before sucking lightly.
She’d never been so bold, so aggressive. She barely recognized herself. She was shocked by her behavior. But she wanted this. She wanted him.
She’d never wanted anything or anyone the way she wanted Jonah Beck.
“Jonah,” she murmured against his lips. “I want you.”
He shuddered against her, his breathing ragged, and she slipped her hand from beneath his. “I want to feel your hands on me.”
Grasping his big hand, she guided it under her skirt to the apex of her thighs. She pressed it against her, feeling the heat of his palm through her panties. He spread his hand, covering her mound more fully.
“Touch me,” she urged, widening her legs.
He traced the edge of her panties, his fingers rubbing over the lace trim. She held her breath, waiting for the moment when they’d slip inside and touch her sensitive flesh, but it never came.
“I’m wet,” she whispered.
“Oh, Jesus,” he groaned.
“Don’t you want to feel how wet you make me?”
He eased his fingers under the lace. He smoothed the springy hair inside before finding her slit and dipping a finger into it.
“Ah, fuck. You are juicy.” He delved deeper, swirling his fingers through her arousal. “Ripe and juicy.”
The tip of his finger grazed her clit, and little shocks radiated down her legs. Her knees shook, and he steadied her with his other hand, bracing it against her lower back.
He trailed his fingers from her clit to her opening, circling with light strokes, over and over until she squirmed against his hand. “You’re so soft,” he rasped. “So soft … just like a peach.”
Abruptly, he pulled his hand from her panties. She moaned in protest, but the sound died in her throat when he brought his fingers to his mouth and licked them. It was the hottest thing she’d ever seen, and arousal gushed out of her.
“Delicious,” he growled.
He worked his hand back into her panties and thrust two fingers inside her. She gasped as her flesh stretched around them. Shifting his hand, he pushed deeper, and she cried out when her internal muscles clenched.
She was aching … empty … and she wanted him to fill her.
She reached for his belt, fumbling to unbuckle it. Once she got it loose, she popped open the stud on his jeans. As she slid down his zipper, he pressed the tip of his finger against the front wall of her vagina. The pleasure rippled from that one spot like a stone thrown into a pond, and she had to lean against him to stay upright.
Suddenly, he hooked his arm under her butt and lifted her. With his other hand still wedged deep inside her, he walked them backward until they bumped into something. Glancing behind her, she glimpsed an upright barrel just before he set her down on top of it.
The barrel’s rough edges dug into her thighs, but she forgot the discomfort when she saw Beck’s face. The industrial cage light hanging on the wall above their heads revealed every nuance of his expression.
His features were rigid with desire, the skin stretched tightly over his cheekbones and flushed with hectic color. His eyes were so dark they were almost black.
Spreading her legs, she hooked a finger in his belt loop to pull him closer. When she had him where she wanted him, she shoved down his jeans and underwear just enough to release his erection.
She nearly whimpered when she saw it, but she wasn’t sure it if was from anticipation or anxiety. Probably both.
She’d been with two other guys, and Beck’s erection seemed enormous in comparison, long and thick and topped with a wide, fleshy head. Fluid glistened on the tip, and she swirled her thumb through it before wrapping her hand around the shaft. It was hot, covered in velvety smooth skin, and ridged with veins. She squeezed firmly, and he groaned deep in his throat.
Unwilling to wait any longer to feel him inside her, she plucked the foil packet from her shirt and opened it. She’d never put a condom on a guy—her previous partners always took care of that—but she was driving this racecar, so it was up to her.
Grasping his shaft, she carefully rolled on the latex. When the condom was in place, she hooked her legs around his and brought him closer. She reached between them, tugged her panties to the side, and placed the plump head of his erection at her opening.
She met his eyes. “I want you,” she said, slowly and deliberately. “I want you inside me. I want you to be so deep—”
Gripping her hips, he thrust hard into her, forcing the breath from her lungs. Even as her flesh struggled to accommodate the huge, scorching intrusion of his penis, her internal muscles contracted, and she started to come.
“Tight.” His word was nothing more than a guttural groan. “So fucking t
ight.”
She clutched his broad shoulders, and he rooted deeper. Dark spots danced in her vision as her orgasm claimed her, her body clenching rhythmically around his. Tingles sparked through her, and she couldn’t hold back the gasps and moans that spilled out of her mouth.
He didn’t give her a chance to catch her breath. Instead, he hooked his arms under her legs, her knees resting in the crook of his elbows, and slid his hands under her butt.
Gripping the rim of the barrel for balance, she locked her arms and leaned back on them. The new position opened her fully, and he grunted as he slid farther inside.
He looked down, staring at the place where they were connected, and blew out a harsh breath before lifting his gaze to hers. It was so hot it smoldered.
She wanted to tell him how good he felt. She wanted to tell him that she’d never felt so full … so complete. But the pleasure—the relief—of finally having him inside her had stolen her voice.
Holding her gaze, he palmed her butt cheeks and pulled out completely. He surged back inside her, bumping against her cervix, and her eyes almost rolled back in her head.
“Oh, God,” she moaned, raising her hips. “Jonah.”
He rocked into her, his penis caressing her clit with every deep stroke. She was so wet she could hear it as he thrust in and out, and the sound turned her on even more.
She felt another orgasm building, the ache in her lower pelvis intensifying with each smooth slide. She tightened her vaginal muscles to ease the ache, and he grunted again, his rhythm faltering.
He paused with just the tip of his erection inside her, his chest moving like bellows. When he plunged forward, she came again. She cried out as it crashed over, a tsunami of sensation that made her vision blur and her ears ring.
His fingers dug into her as he increased his pace. He pounded into her, his hips like pistons. She moved with him, wanting to give him the same pleasure he’d given her.
Suddenly, he stiffened. He came with a hoarse shout, and she watched it happen. As his penis jerked inside her, he closed his eyes, and his head dropped back, the tendons in his neck cording.
The sight of him losing himself inside her body sent satisfaction spiraling though her. When he gave one final, shallow thrust, another orgasm blindsided her. It blasted through her like a bomb, the pleasure so sharp it actually hurt. Her internal muscles clamped down on his erection, and he gave a strangled moan. The pulses seemed to go on and on, and she whimpered softly.
She closed her eyes, and as the tingles dissipated, she became aware of her uncomfortable position. Bourbon barrels were not an ideal place for sex. But she wasn’t going to complain, not when she’d just come three times.
Beck had given her three orgasms. Three amazing, wonderful, incredible orgasms. She’d hoped it would be good between them. But she never could’ve imagined it would be that good.
She opened her eyes as he slid his hands from beneath her and let her legs drop against the side of the barrel. She tried to sit up, but he was still inside her—still hard. He slowly withdrew from her body, holding the condom in place, and she caught her breath as his penis rubbed against her sensitive flesh.
His dark eyes locked on her face. The haze of lust had disappeared, leaving them clear and cold. A knot of dread formed in her stomach, and she swallowed to ease her dry throat.
He glanced away from her and turned his back. After tugging her panties back in place, she hopped down from the barrel. Her legs weren’t steady, and she had to lean against the rough wood for support. Once she could stand on her own, she straightened and wrenched down her skirt.
Seconds later, Beck turned to face her. He’d disposed of the condom, she had no idea where, and had fastened his jeans and belt.
He rubbed his hand over his face before suddenly jerking it away. She flushed when she realized it was the same hand he’d put between her legs. He must have smelled her on his fingers.
“Beck, this was—”
“A huge fuckin’ mistake.”
His voice was so harsh she flinched involuntarily, her head jerking back as if he’d slapped her. A physical blow couldn’t have hurt worse than his words.
She cringed at the disgust she heard in his voice. The knot in her stomach pulled tighter, and nausea crawled up her throat.
He turned in a circle, his head tilted toward the ceiling. “Fuck me.” He glanced at her, his face contorted with loathing. “I knew somethin’ like this would happen. I knew you’d fuck up my life somehow.”
She was so hurt, so humiliated, she couldn’t even formulate a response to his verbal attack. Finally, her mouth caught up to her brain.
“You’re an asshole,” she hissed.
His eyes narrowed. “I’m an asshole?”
“That’s a rhetorical question, right?”
Before he could reply, she took a step forward, eager to get away from him and his hurtful words. His eyes widened, and he took a hasty step backward, as if she carried an incurable and fatal disease.
She took another step forward, and he took another hasty step backward. His bootheel got caught on one of the wooden planks, and he teetered for a second before crashing into the tall wooden racks. Although he tried to catch himself, he tumbled to the floor.
As Ava Grace left the warehouse, she reveled in the satisfying sight of Jonah Beck knocked on his ass.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
With shaking hands, Beck gripped the edge of the cast iron sink in the men’s bathroom in Trinity’s office. He braced his arms against it and looked at himself in the chipped mirror hanging above the rust-stained sink.
“You just fucked Ava Grace in the rickhouse,” he said to his reflection. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
Give yourself a break, chief. How many single guys would walk away from Ava Grace Landy when she told them how wet she was?
He laughed mirthlessly. He couldn’t think of one. Not a single goddamn one.
Millions of men—single, married, young, old—had fallen under her spell. Her sexy voice and hot body fueled their fantasies. She certainly starred in his, and now that he’d had her, it would be even worse.
Closing his eyes, he let his head drop forward. He had to forget. He had to pretend it’d never happened. He wished to Christ it never had happened. If he could go back in time and change things, he would … even if it disrupted the space-time continuum and sent the earth spinning into another Ice Age.
Knowing he couldn’t hide in the bathroom any longer, he opened his eyes and turned on the faucet. He vigorously scrubbed his hands, determined to rid them of any trace of Ava Grace’s delicious scent. When he was done, he splashed cold water on his face.
After drying his face and hands, he looked in the mirror again. “You have to apologize,” he told himself.
No matter how upset he was, he never should’ve talked to Ava Grace like that. Even though he’d meant every word, he shouldn’t have said them out loud.
He needed to find her and apologize for his colossal meltdown. And then he needed to ask her, very politely, to stay the fuck away from him.
He opened the steel door and headed down the hall toward the executive offices. As he passed the breakroom, he heard his name. Backtracking, he glanced inside. Gabe stood in front of the white refrigerator, a chocolate-covered ice cream bar in his hand.
“Where have you been?” Gabe asked, his mouth full of ice cream. “I’ve been looking for you.”
“Were you looking for me in the freezer?”
Gabe swallowed before saying, “I needed sustenance.” He smiled broadly. “I have good news: American Spirits agreed to distribute Trinity.”
“Holy shit!” Beck gave him a high five. “That’s awesome, Gabe! You’re a fucking rock star!”
“You’re just now noticing that?” Gabe quipped before taking a big bite of ice cream. “I’m guessing the tour with Ava Grace didn’t go as well as my negotiations with American Spirits.”
Just the sound of her name made Beck’s
muscles tight. “Where is she?”
Gabe shrugged. “I have no idea. She came stomping into my office while I was still on the phone, grabbed her purse, and left without a word.” He took another bite. “So what happened?”
Beck looked down at the scarred linoleum floor. “Nothing happened.”
Nothing except the hottest sex he’d ever had. Fast and rough and so goddamn incredible he was sure he’d remember it until the day he died.
“You’re lying,” Gabe replied, his voice mild. “I’ve known you for more than half your life, and I can tell when you’re lying. What did you do?”
I did Ava Grace.
He’d never been with a woman who was so … primed. He’d barely gotten inside her before she came.
He groaned under his breath. He had to stop thinking about how tight and wet she was. The sexy sounds she made when she came. The sweet taste of her pussy on his fingers.
Beck reached around his best friend and grabbed a can of soda from the refrigerator. After popping the top, he took a big swig, hoping it would wash the taste of Ava Grace from his mouth.
“What did you do?” Gabe repeated before sucking the last bit of ice cream off the stick.
“Nothing.”
“Bullshit.” Gabe tossed the little wooden stick into the garbage can. “She looked like she wanted to kill someone, and I have no doubt that someone was you.”
Beck chose not to acknowledge Gabe’s comment. Instead, he said, “Until Ren gets back, you’re responsible for everything related to Ava Grace.”
Gabe’s eyebrows rose. “Why?”
“Because I said so,” Beck snapped. “I’m the CEO of this company, and I don’t have to explain myself.”
“Did you just pull rank on me?” Gabe asked softly, his eyes narrowed. “What the fuck is going on with you?”
“I just don’t want to be around her, okay?”
Gabe shook his head. “No, it’s not okay. What’s your problem with Ava Grace? She genuinely wants to help us … to help Trinity.” He studied Beck, his gaze assessing. “Why don’t you want to be around her?”
