by Maisey Yates
“I know,” he said, sliding his thumb over her damp nipple, where he had just had his mouth a moment ago. Then he turned his attention to her other breast, repeating the same action, robbing her of her breath. Of her ability to think.
He wrapped his large hands around her, just beneath her rib cage, his thumbs skimming the underside of her breasts, and then moving down her waist, down past her belly button, down to her hips. He moved his hands in, unbuttoning her pants, drawing the zipper down slowly.
She bit her lip, unconsciously flexing her hips, begging him for something. She wasn’t even sure what. But her body seemed to know. Seemed almost entirely confident in what it required. He slipped his hand down beneath the waistband of her pants, of her panties, and she rolled her hips upward, forcing his hand into prime position between her thighs.
He groaned when his hand found her, when he pushed a finger down through her folds and it glided across the sensitized nerves there, sending a streak of white-hot lightning through her body.
“So wet,” he growled, pushing his fingers back and forth. She was. She was shockingly, intensely wet, and she hadn’t realized it until his fingers began to move. Until he had spoken those words. “You’re killing me,” he said. “Do you know that?”
She shook her head. She couldn’t say anything.
He slipped one finger inside of her, the invasion unfamiliar, but blindingly satisfying. And as he worked his way in and out of her body he slipped his thumb over that place where she was aching for his touch, her whole body drawn tight, flexing her feet not doing anything now to provide a counterbalance to that tension.
Alex lowered his head, kissed her lips as his hand continued with its knowing movements. His hips were pressed up against her side, and he moved in time with the thrust of his finger. Short, sharp jerks that seemed reluctant in some way.
He gripped her chin with his free hand, turning her face so that she was looking at him. His green eyes were sharp, intense, his lips pressed into a grim line. She couldn’t look away from him. Part of her wanted to. Part of her wanted to close her eyes and blot out the reality of the moment. To not be quite so aware that she was lying in bed half-naked with a man who had his hand inside of her pants. To not be so acutely conscious of the fact that it was Alex.
That this was happening. That it wasn’t a fantasy. That it was real. That it was happening to her right now. Something new and big and terrifying and more than she had ever had before.
But she didn’t close her eyes. She didn’t look away. She wasn’t a coward.
And he was looking at her. Really looking at her. Because he wanted her. Her. This gorgeous, strong man, who had most certainly taken her up as a charge under sufferance, actually wanted her. And he saw her. That mattered. No matter what else happened after this, that mattered.
He flexed his wrist then, pushing a second finger in along with the first, and using the heel of his palm to grind up against where she was most sensitive.
She lost it then. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, bursts of light breaking behind them, her internal muscles pulsing around his fingers as she came hard. A gasp was torn from her throat, his name, the kind of moan that almost sounded like a bad parody of pleasure, but that she couldn’t have controlled even if she wanted to.
Then Alex pulled away from her as though he had been burned, rolling over onto his back, his breathing hard.
“Alex?” She knew that wasn’t it. She’d had an orgasm, yes. But that wasn’t sex. And he still had...well, she hadn’t even seen him. He hadn’t seen her.
But there was something in the way he looked just then, in the lines on his face, the strain there, that told her everything she wanted to know without ever asking the question.
She asked anyway. “Alex, aren’t you going to...?”
“No. You have to go to work,” he said, his voice rough.
Yes, she did have to go to work. She was late. She was late because she had gone upstairs and had an orgasm with Alex Donnelly. “I’m already late,” she said.
“You need to go, Clara.”
She needed to go because he said she did. Just like the kiss had ended last night because he’d said so. Just like he’d carried her up the stairs and given her an orgasm because he’d felt like it.
He owned her ranch because Jason had left it to him. He was getting bison because he’d decided it was the best thing. The best thing for her.
And no one had asked what she’d wanted. No one had left a single decision about her own life in her hands.
But when the dust settled and Alex left, she was going to have to be in control of her own life. She couldn’t be taken care of from here on out, and she didn’t even want that. She was going to be a woman who stood on her own two feet, and she was going to start now.
Some decisions needed to be hers. This decision needed to be hers.
She took a step back from the side of the bed, and then she shoved her jeans and her panties down her thighs, kicking them to the side.
Alex braced his palms on the mattress, pushing himself up, his expression hard. “Clara...”
“I’m late already,” she reiterated. “I’m already going to have to come up with an excuse for why I wasn’t there on time. I want this. More importantly, I choose this. And I haven’t chosen anything in a long time.
“Look at me,” she said, spreading her arms. “I’m a woman. I’m not a child. If you don’t want me, then tell me so. Tell me to go to work, because the idea of having sex with me disgusts you. I don’t want pity. But if you want me, and you’re trying to protect me, you’re trying to make this choice for me...don’t. Because I’ve had it with that. I have had it with everyone else having more control over my life than I do. I want this. I want you. I haven’t been ambiguous about that. So the question now is, what do you want?”
He sat up, holding his hand out, the expression on his face somewhere between regret and pain. “Come here.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CLARA TOOK A tentative step forward, and then another. She reached out, taking hold of his hand, and allowing him to pull her down onto the bed, over him. She was completely naked, straddling him, offering him a full view of that nudity.
He reached up, grabbing hold of her hips, and she rocked herself forward, the rough seam on his denim abrading her sensitive skin. She shivered, but rocked against him again, relishing that lightning bolt of pleasure that shot through her.
“Tell me what you want,” he said.
She planted her hands on his chest, scraped her nails across his muscles. “I told you already. Why don’t you tell me?”
A ghost of that familiar smile touched his lips. “I want you.”
“You can do better than that.”
“I want you, Clara. I want inside you. I want to screw you until neither of us can see straight. And I shouldn’t, God knows. But I want to.”
She let her eyes flutter closed, let out a long, slow breath. “Good.”
“Is that what you want?”
“Yes,” she responded, slowly letting her fingertips drift over his abs, down to the waistband of his jeans. She hesitated then, but only for a moment. Then she undid the button there, lowered the zipper until her own body proved to be a barrier to that. Then, she arched her hips upward and tugged the zipper down the rest of the way.
She moved down his body, still straddling him, but over his thighs now, and grabbed a hold of the jeans, and the waistband of his underwear, drawing them down slowly to reveal every inch of his masculinity.
He was bigger than she had imagined.
She swallowed hard, trying to combat the nerves that were swarming through her like honeybees.
It was an apt comparison, really. You had to risk some pain to get to the honey. That was what this would be like. She had already known that it w
ould hurt. First times did, so she had heard. But it would be good. It had to be.
People didn’t make absolute idiots out of themselves over sex because it was only okay. Just like they didn’t gorge themselves on kale.
Alex was not kale. Alex was the cake of men.
She discarded his pants, and his underwear, throwing them somewhere onto the floor. And then, she took a moment to just look at him. To really revel in the decision she had made. To push this. To demand it.
She made really, really good decisions.
He was perfect. In absolutely every way. The epitome of masculinity. Those hard-cut muscles with a light dusting of hair over them a beautiful example of the difference between men and women. His shoulders were broad, his biceps and forearms heavily muscled. Even his thighs were muscular.
And then there was, well, him.
His cock.
Which was the dirtiest word she knew for that particular body part. One that had always made her blush. But kind of captured her imagination too.
And she decided now that she was going to go ahead and apply it. Since this was her fantasy. This was her moment.
“Wow. You’re hot,” she said, leaning forward, planting her hands on the mattress and crawling upward, dropping a kiss onto his lips, his hard length pressed against her softness.
He wrapped his arm around her waist, his hold firm, and then he turned them over, reversing their positions. “So are you,” he responded, his eyes intense on hers. And then he kissed her, deep and dirty, like he was giving her a preview of what was going to happen next.
That kiss went on and on. There was no question mark at the end of this kiss. They both knew where it was leading. There was a certainty to the kiss, a desperate edge, but there was also something deep and confident that allowed them both to settle into it.
She shifted beneath him, widening her thighs, his hardness pressed against her slick flesh. He flexed his hips, sliding up through her folds as he continued to kiss her, his tongue moving expertly against hers, his teeth scraping her bottom lip before he took it deep again.
He timed the movements of the kiss with the flex of his hips, and drove up her arousal, making her feel so acutely turned on, it was almost painful. She felt hollowed out, empty. It was like hunger. Leaving her weak with wanting and desperate to be filled.
He broke the kiss, drew back slightly, rubbing his nose against hers, pressing their foreheads together. And then he smiled.
She whimpered, arching against him. She wanted. With all of herself. She had never felt anything like this before. She hadn’t known this feeling existed.
And she knew that it was going to change her. That this was going to alter the way she saw things, the way she felt. But she didn’t care. She wanted it. Was as hungry for that as she was for his body.
She wanted to be changed. She wanted to be different. She wanted Alex to be the one to make it happen.
It was perfect. In its own broken way. That he would be the one to do this. That he would be the man she wanted more than any other.
“Alex,” she whispered, “please.”
“Hang on,” he said, leaning away from her and wrenching open the drawer to his nightstand. He reached inside, and then cursed. Then he pulled out a box of condoms—unopened, which did something indefinable to her emotions—and tore open the seal.
He took out a strip of them, tore one off and then threw everything else on the floor, quickly applying the protection.
“I’m going to try not to hurt you,” he said, kissing her as he positioned the blunt head of his arousal at the entrance of her body.
He inched forward slightly, the head of him slipping in almost easily because she was so wet.
“It’s okay if you do,” she said, the words a broken whisper.
“Hell.” He lowered his head, pressing his face against the side of her neck as he thrust forward, just a little bit.
She flinched, a hard, pinching pain accompanying that movement. “Please.” She just wanted him to do it. She wanted him inside of her. All the way. Even if it hurt. She didn’t want this slow, mild pain—literally by inches. She wanted everything. Wanted to tumble headfirst into it. And if it hurt, that was fine. If it changed her, that was fine too.
It wasn’t about every moment being full of pleasure. It was about need. Her need for him. Her need for this.
But she couldn’t say all of that, not in this moment. And Alex seemed to understand that. Seemed to understand the wealth of information and that simple please.
On a growl he pressed himself the rest of the way inside. She gritted her teeth, grabbed hold of his shoulders, dug her fingernails into his skin. It hurt. But in her experience everything that changed you did. Good or bad.
She didn’t know if in the end it would be good or bad. But she chose it. So at least there was that. It made this different from every other thing in her life that had changed her.
Alex moved his hand around to her lower back, down to cup her butt, lifting her slightly as he pushed in deeper. She let her head fall back, and she saw stars. “Are you okay?” he asked against her lips.
It still hurt. But it was what she wanted. Right now, it might well be everything she wanted. And okay didn’t seem like the right word, but she couldn’t think of anything monumental enough to capture the feeling.
“Okay,” she said, trying to force a smile.
He kissed her, and she clung to him as he began to move inside of her. Deep. So deep. It felt like he was touching everything all at once. Parts of herself that had gone undiscovered until this. Until him.
Gradually, the pain went away. Gradually, that slide of his hard flesh inside of her started to feel more than okay. It started to feel more than good. It went way past physical. It reached the emptiness deep down inside, and it made her feel...
She opened her eyes, and they clashed with the forest green of his.
She wasn’t alone. She was with Alex.
That thought brought on a wash of fire through her whole body, and she knew that he felt it too. Could see the response in him. His thrusts became less measured, less controlled, until it all just burned away. And there was no consideration for pain, no concern for inexperience. Which was good, because she didn’t want them.
She wanted him. All of him. Everything.
She clung to him, meeting his every thrust with a roll of her hips, sliding her hands down his back, moving to grasp his butt. It was hard like the rest of him. After this she would need time to look at him. To look at all of him. Just to enjoy the work of art that was Alex Donnelly.
That would be great. But right now, she didn’t need to look at him. She just needed to feel him. Everywhere. All of him.
“Alex.” She gasped his name as her orgasm began to build inside of her. It felt impossible. Too big. Too intense. Too much.
If her first release had been a thunderstorm, this one would be the whole landslide that came after. She had a feeling it would leave devastation in its wake. She wanted it anyway. Needed it.
He gripped her hips with both hands, holding her steady as he ground his body against hers, the hard, sustained contact sending her over the edge. She arched up against him, unable to hold back the cry of pleasure as her earth-shattering release overtook her.
It went on forever, her internal muscles pulsing around him, that sensation of being filled making it deeper somehow, more intense.
Then Alex went still above her, shuddering out his own release. It triggered aftershocks inside of her, little tremors of pleasure that made her shiver.
And then she came back to herself. And it was the strangest thing. Because it was broad daylight, and everything in the room looked exactly as it had before they’d had sex.
It didn’t seem right. It didn’t seem possible. That the entire place hadn�
�t come down around them. That everything wasn’t destroyed, altered in the way that she was.
It was a normal day, really. Except that she was naked in Alex’s bed. Oh yeah, and she wasn’t a virgin anymore. Stupidly, she felt a smile tug at the corners of her mouth.
“I was going to ask if you were okay. But you’re smiling.”
She looked up to find him studying her, lifted her shoulder. “Sorry. Was I not supposed to smile?”
“Better than frowning, I suppose.”
He moved away from her, the loss of his weight and heat nearly making her gasp, then he turned his back and swung his legs over the side of the bed.
“I suppose,” she said, sitting up and looking around, still feeling disoriented.
Not even a picture knocked on the floor. It didn’t seem possible.
“I just need to go to the bathroom,” he said.
She nodded. Then she got off the bed and started collecting her clothes. She was late to work. She was so late to work. She grabbed her pants off the floor and dug her phone out of the pocket. She had three missed calls.
“Dammit,” she whispered.
“Cursing my name already?” She turned around and saw Alex standing in the doorway of the bathroom, stark naked. He was still beautiful. So beautiful he made her ache.
“Work,” she said.
“Right,” he responded, nodding slowly. “Are you in trouble?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Probably a little bit. I’ll work it out. I just... I think I have to go.”
He nodded once. “I’ll come by tonight.”
A little thrill of giddiness raced through her. “Okay.”
She dressed quickly, then hesitated for a moment. Alex was still standing there, totally naked. And she wanted to kiss him, even if it wasn’t cool. His eyes caught hers, and she saw the same need. She same heat. She took a deep breath, closing the space between them and claiming his mouth with her own.
Another good decision as far as she was concerned.
“See you tonight,” she said in a rush, then turned and walked out of his room, taking the stairs two at a time.
