Then he growled.
He actually growled into my flesh, now quivering due to the magic he was making for me with his mouth. He licked and bit, sucked and devoured me with his teeth and fingers, lips and tongue. Within seconds, I was a writhing mess of need and sensation, so primed I couldn’t even see straight.
But every time I was a hairsbreadth away from coming, he would back off, leave my heated core alone and instead give me gossamer-light touches with his fingertips or claw me with his nails. On the backs of my knees. Along my ribcage. The insides of my thighs. The arches of my feet.
Kyle did this to me for what felt like hours, and only when he saw my tears flow down the sides of my cheeks, not from pain but from sheer frustration, did he untie me and give me permission to ride him to orgasm. He ripped the condom with his teeth, sheathed himself and lay down on the bed. I climbed on without hesitation and impaled myself with his huge and gorgeous cock.
“Ohmigod… I’m going to… It’s so…so…” I called out as I began to move.
“Let it happen, Sam. Let go for me,” Kyle said, gritting his teeth, thrusting his hips up to meet mine.
I closed my eyes and threw my head back. My hair cascaded so far down, I could feel the ends tickling my ass. Then his thumb and forefinger took hold of my sensitive nub, giving it pressure, and before I knew it, I exploded into a million pieces, sprays of stardust streaking across my eyelids, blinding me as I rode the crest of my orgasm.
Kyle unleashed a groan of ecstasy, gripping my hips and grinding his cock deep into my womb, and even with the condom on, I swore I could still feel him coming in me. My hands were resting on his chest, balancing my weight and waiting for the spots in my vision to abate. But Kyle gently pushed me into his hold, cradling me in his arms. The scent of his skin and our arousal was thick in the air surrounding us, making me even dizzier in spite of lying on him.
“You good, babe?”
“Mmm hmmm,” was all I could respond.
He took a deep breath in. “I could lie here with you all night, but I better get rid of the condom.”
I sighed. “I know. Still love feeling you inside me. You’re still hard. How’s that possible?”
He let out a laugh while rolling me off to the side and climbing off the bed. “It’s possible because I’m lying with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on, that’s why.”
I pivoted and looked over at him, standing by the bed and taking the condom off. He threw it in the basket and gazed back at me.
“You already had me, Kyle. No need for flowery hyperbole now.”
He ran his hand down his face, scratching at his jawline. I’d seen him do that before, when we were interrupted in Lauren’s office. I wondered if it was a nervous habit. Was that his tell when he was at a loss?
“Christ, please don’t tell me you’re one of those women who’s fucking gorgeous but thinks she’s ugly.”
I sat up and wrapped my long hair into a messy bun, tying it in a knot to secure it. He certainly wasn’t shy about saying what was on his mind.
“No, I know I’m attractive, maybe even beautiful, but I think it’s a stretch to say I’m the most beautiful one you’ve had, especially if you’re as active as I’ve heard.”
He bent a knee into the bed and climbed over to where I sat, then yanked my makeshift bun out of its knot, causing my hair to tumble onto my shoulders.
“I really like it down, so I can grab it just like this.” He gave it a pull while giving me a quick, hard kiss. “You hungry? I can order something in.”
“I could eat.” I drew my knees up, tucking myself in and resting my chin on my folded arms. “What are the options?”
He opened his legs and scooted himself around my frame, wrapping his arms and legs around me. It was an intimate gesture and with the genuine smile on his face, I was floating in a happy cloud inside my head. Instead, I offered just a hint of a smile on my lips for him to see.
“Anything, babe. Chinese, Thai, sushi, Italian, barbeque. Name it, I can get it.”
My stomach took that moment to growl loudly. Kyle laughed while I buried my face in my tucked arms, my shoulders moving with my quiet laughter.
“Whatever’s fastest is my choice at this moment. The stomach has spoken and she must be fed.”
“Look at me, Sam.” His bourbon eyes were molten liquid and lazy for me. “I’m into you, babe, noisy stomach and all.”
My mouth parted, moved by this man who surrounded me in a new kind of euphoria. I sucked in the air and just stared at him. He was undeterred.
“You’re completely beautiful to me, not just because you have the most gorgeous fucking hair I’ve ever dug my hands into or the fact that your eyes are a shade of purple I’ve never quite seen before. I like looking at your taut little body, and I love the taste of it even better. I get off on the fact that you look like this living doll or pixie, something out of a fucking Disney movie, and yet you swear like a drunken frat boy and don’t take shit from anybody. You make me laugh without even trying and I could watch you perform over and over and never get bored.”
Just then, my stomach growled again and we both busted out laughing. He rolled us onto our sides, facing one another, and he brushed my hair away from my eyes.
“Better feed you. Chinese is fastest.”
“Sounds good.”
“What do you like?”
“I like anything as long as it’s not fried. No noodles or rice for me either.”
He ordered food and we ate it in bed—naked. Then he proceeded to lick a mixture of duck and mustard sauce off my breasts, followed by us ravaging each other twice more before we finally showered and passed out around three in the morning.
I woke up the next day, sore and sated, purring and stretching my limbs like a kitten. I rolled over, expecting Kyle since it was only around eight in the morning. Instead, I felt cold sheets and a piece of paper crumpling under my weight.
Good morning, Samantha,
Help yourself to whatever you want in the fridge.
I had an early morning meeting and didn’t want to wake you.
I know I destroyed your blouse last night, so feel free to take one of my shirts to wear home. The front door locks automatically so make sure you’ve got everything you need, otherwise you’ll have no way to get back in.
You’re an incredible woman. I had an amazing night with you.
Kyle
I must have read and re-read that note ten times before it fully sank in, and once it did, my heart hurt. There was no “I’ll call you later” or “Can’t wait to see you again” written. It was a very well-written, lovely kiss-off note. Why did he have to say all that shit about how beautiful and incredible I was if he was just looking to get laid?
Fuck, I could still smell him on my skin, on the sheets around me. So I bolted for the bathroom and took a shower, making sure to scrub him and our off-the-charts fucking off my body. Of course, it was his spicy soap so he still haunted me.
I grabbed the most expensive dress shirt I could find, plus a tie to match my eyes. I picked a piece of fruit, and just as I was almost out the door, I noticed money and another piece of paper on the table in the foyer. On it he’d simply written cab fare. Looking at that money was like a strong kick to my gut. I had never felt so used. I crumpled the note and the paper money and threw it in his trash.
And then I got the hell out of there.
I paid for my own cab fare to the theater. Once I saw Patrick, my face fell, and I cried—I actually cried—in his arms over the son of a bitch.
“What’s his name again, honey?” he asked while cradling me in his lap, as if I were a toddler who had skinned her knee.
“Kyle,” I answered, still staring off into space, my head on his shoulder.
“I meant his last name.”
I expelled a harsh breath.
“Masterson. Kyle Masterson. He’s a divorce attorney.”
I felt Patrick’s body stiffen and I picked up my head to see his expression. “What?”
He bit the inside of his cheek and kissed my forehead. “I’ve heard of him, that’s all. He’s a manwhore. Sleeps with his pretty clients—not always, but enough. Goes through women like underwear. Otherwise considered a great guy. He raises a bucket-load of money for children’s advocacy groups and makes sure even his most horrid clients act decently and treat their kids well, not use them as a pawn to get a better settlement. But with women…” His voice drifted off.
“Yeah,” I interrupted. “I’ve heard. With women, he’s a pig.”
I wiped my face and got off of his lap. “Fuck it. So I’m another notch on his belt. Whatever. I’ve been through worse. I’ll channel this fury into a great part someday. Right?”
He dipped his head off to the side and gave me one of his adorable, crooked smiles. “Absolutely, gorgeous.”
“Okay, let’s kick some Chekhov ass.”
The rest of the day was a blur. Derek ignored me for the most part, and I was grateful for the reprieve. I still had Patrick walk me to the Metro station because I wasn’t letting my guard down. Just in case.
By the time I got home, I was wiped out. I heated up a frozen meal, poured myself a gallon-sized glass of wine and numbed out, watching mindless TV. I was ready to pass out by eleven p.m., but the news came on. I usually never watched it, but sure enough, they were covering the latest scandal to hit DC. Some senator was divorcing his young wife for an even younger mistress. And guess who was being interviewed, representing the soon-to-be ex-wife?
Yep, it was Kyle. Looking stunning, composed and sounding like a pro.
If that wasn’t hard enough, his client, some overly Botoxed, silicon-implanted piece, was hanging all over him, wiping her crocodile tears with one hand while squeezing his biceps with the other.
“Ugh,” I grimaced out loud, turning it off and throwing the remote across the room.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Jessica called out to me, walking into my bedroom, obviously just getting home from her conference. “What’s got you all riled up?”
“Oh, Jess,” I moaned. “I’m so glad to see you.” She immediately dropped her bag and came barreling over to me.
“What happened, Sam-Sam?”
I told her the whole thing, every moment, every word that happened between Kyle and me. I could tell she was really trying to find some sort of revisionist spin, but when I got to the part about the money he left for the cab, that was it for her.
“That lousy piece of shit! I’m going to kill him!”
I froze, stared at her like she had grown an extra head since she’d been gone.
“What?” she asked, her tone perturbed and ornery.
“It’s just… Jess, you never curse. Like never!”
She blew the hair out of her face, looking resigned. “I know. But that’s how mad I am at him. I was really rooting for him, for the both of you. I can’t believe he’d treat you so terribly, if for no other reason than we have friends in common. Jax and Lauren are gonna rip him a new one when they find out.”
“What do you mean, ‘when they find out’? Jess, I’m not telling anyone about this. Well, except Patrick, because I already told him at rehearsal earlier today, but that’s it! It’s humiliating enough as it is. I don’t need to deal with other people’s pity on top of that.”
Her shoulders sank lower. “Whatever you want, sweetie.” Then she tried to stifle a yawn.
“You must be beat. Good conference?”
“Yeah,” she replied, yawning again and rubbing her eyes. “But I can stay up. Want me to run over to the store for some Ben & Jerry’s sugar therapy?”
I offered a halfhearted laugh, shaking my head. “No, go crash. I’m wiped out as well. We’ll catch up more tomorrow, okay?”
“Only if you’re sure. I’ll get my second wind any minute now.”
“Save it for a real crisis. This isn’t one of them. Kyle wasn’t the first or the last jerk I’ll ever deal with.”
Jessica gave me a pained smile in response, looking at me with a whirlwind behind her eyes. I could tell she wanted to say something but was holding back. So I asked her to spill.
“It’s just…for so long, you were the one running for the door the morning after. Maybe your morning after was after a week or a couple of months, but it was the same idea. And now, here you are, ready for something more.”
“Jess,” I warned.
“No, hear me out. I’m not saying you were looking to star in the next episode of Say Yes to the Dress, but you’ve changed ever since Mom and Dad died, and while the reason completely sucks, I’ve been happy to see you more open to the possibility of finding real love in your life.”
I took in what she said, letting it sink in while letting out a breath I was holding. “Yeah, I guess so. Not too much good it’s doing me now. Know what I wish?”
She raised her eyebrow as her answer.
“Besides the obvious, that the accident never happened… I wish I was my old self, just living for my next role, my friends and family, not like I am now, walking around with this chasm inside my soul. I ache, Jess, and I don’t know how to fill it.”
My little sister took me in her embrace, rubbing my back and patting down my hair. I knew she meant it to be comforting, but it made me even lonelier than I had been before. Because I realized I would never be comforted by my mother again, and the unconditional love my parents had for me, which had served as my foundation, was now a phantom of its former self.
Chapter Five
Seven days later
“Patrick, I’m really sorry that Oliver cancelled last minute, but there’s no way I’m getting all dolled up and meeting you downtown right now. Besides—” I blew strands off my forehead and eyes, “—I’m not even showered. I’m standing here in my kitchen. In sweats. I just finished putting up the drywall. I’m a total and complete mess.”
Yep, it was another Saturday night and I was home. Again. Working on another project—the kitchen. My Mount Everest of home renovations because it needed the most work. I had taken down a half wall, rerouted the plumbing lines, redone the walls and planned on building an island. Big stuff for a woman whose entire renovation education was thanks to YouTube videos and HGTV. But I liked the challenge and the distraction.
“You don’t fool me,” Patrick chastised over the phone. “I’ve seen you go through costume changes between acts, with hair and makeup, in a skinny minute. So I know you can get that fine behind of yours put together and here in no time.”
“That’s true, but Patrick—”
“Samantha,” he interrupted again. “I wouldn’t ask, but I’m already in a tux at the bar. The event starts in a few minutes.”
“Sweetie, it’ll take me over an hour to get there. I’ll miss half of it already. Come over here with your tux on and I’ll order us a pizza and we’ll watch old John Hughes movies together.”
“Oh no you don’t,” he dragged out. “I’m not getting lured into your agoraphobic web, no matter how enticing the bait! And low blow, using John Hughes against me. The Breakfast Club? Sixteen Candles? Pretty in Pink?”
I started laughing to the point of letting out a couple of snorts into the phone.
“Uncool, Sam,” he teased.
“C’mon,” I countered. “You don’t really expect me to do this, do you?”
I heard him let out a deep sigh and I could imagine him rubbing his forehead in frustration. “Tell me what this is really about.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”
There was a pause for a beat or two. “You hiding out in that house again is not about you grieving anymore.”
“Yeah, I know,” I said with a touch of defensiveness in my tone. “So?”
>
“Hold on,” he countered. “What I meant was, you going back into the hovel now is about something else.”
I took in a big gulp of air, praying he wasn’t going to go there.
“Is your reluctance to come out with me tonight because you’re still licking your wounds over Mr. Masterson’s blow-off?”
Crap. He went there.
“He hurt me,” I said, my voice sounding weak, which I hated. “And as much as it sucks wienies that all I got was a note and cab fare the next day, what’s also really burning in my gut is that I’m thinking I deserved this.”
“What? What the hell are you talking about?”
I sighed, blowing an exasperated breath out of me, like it was a demon I needed to exorcise. “Trick, how many times have I played around with some guy, only to drop him without a thought either the next day or week? No warning, no deep concern if I had hurt him. Just feels like I’m getting a taste of my own medicine. And let me tell you, it tastes awful.”
“All right, I get that. You’ve grown up and developed a conscience when it comes to men. You won’t be as much fun to dish with, or vicariously live through, but I’ll survive. Barely.”
“Patrick!”
“I’m kidding! Now, stop all this introspective crap, get cleaned up and get that gorgeous self of yours down to the Ritz Carlton here in Georgetown in a jiffy. I’ll even send a car for you.”
“Must be nice being married to a rich man,” I playfully answered.
“It is,” he replied. “I highly recommend it, but I’m really in it because he gives the best head I’ve ever had.”
“You don’t fool me. You’re almost as hopeless a romantic as my sister. I know you adore Oliver.”
“Yeah.” He was sheepish now. Such a good guy. “Okay, so you’re coming or what?”
I play-growled while rolling my eyes, which of course he couldn’t see, but I didn’t care. It made me feel better. “Yeah, yeah, I’m walking to the shower now. You know you’re lucky I just happen to have a bevy of formal designer wear at my disposal.”
Heart Breaker (Break on Through) Page 7
