by Kallysten
“I…” he started, but he didn’t finish.
“Do you believe me now?” I murmured.
His hands dropped away from my face and hair, and he lay back down again, scrunching his eyes closed. Hiding, again. I wished he wouldn’t do that, and I tried to say as much by stroking my thumb under his left eye. It remained obstinately closed, just like Morgan’s mind remained closed to me. What was going on in there? What was he thinking? He still hadn’t answered my question.
“Do you believe me?” I asked again.
His eyelashes fluttered, and still his eyes remained closed.
“I’d like to,” he whispered.
In this strange tango we were dancing, it definitely felt like a step in the right direction.
“Then do. What’s stopping you?”
“You don’t know everything about me.”
Giving up on having him look at me for now, I rolled onto my back, lying next to him. Somehow, my hand ended up on his chest again. He rested his own on top of it.
“Well, that’s progress,” I said, and I was only teasing a little. “Before, the problem was that I didn’t know anything about you. Now, it’s that I don’t know everything. But we never do know everything about a person, do we?”
I hadn’t expected a reply, so I was surprised to get one—and just as surprised by what he actually said.
“I think we can. It’s hard, and it takes time, but we can.”
Was that an opening? Implicit permission to keep trying? I wanted very much to see it as such.
“It also takes someone who wants to show every bit of himself,” I said. “Someone who doesn’t run or hide every time things get uncomfortable.”
When he didn’t reply, I realized how that sounded. I’d been pushing him, sure, but I still didn’t want to force him to do or say anything he didn’t want. I wasn’t like Irene. I refused to be.
“I’m not asking for that,” I added hurriedly, turning my face to look at him. His eyes were still closed, but not scrunched tight anymore. “I’m not asking you to give me more than you’re ready to offer.”
The smallest of smiles touched his lips. “I sense a ‘but’ coming up…”
Smug bastard.
“But. I think you could give me this. Us. I think maybe you want to. You wanted it in the fantasy, and you said that’s the place where you let yourself have things you normally wouldn’t. Why wouldn’t you let yourself have me? It’s not about me not knowing what I want, because I do. When we first met, you said women approach you for your money, but I hope you know I don’t care about that. So what is it about, Morgan? Is it about…”
I stopped myself before I could say ‘Melody.’ He’d tensed under my hand and relaxed ever so slightly when I finished with, “About her? You said she loved you. She’d have wanted you to be happy.”
With his hand curled over my wrist, his fingertips rested just over my pulse point. When he remained quiet, I didn’t immediately notice, because those devious fingertips had suddenly begun to move and were drawing faint circles on my skin. The touch was entrancing, almost hypnotic. It was such a small thing, two fingers brushing skin, barely even a caress at all, but it was also highly erotic, and already my breath was catching in my throat, my heartbeat accelerating.
“You worked with Lilah for too long. You’re as ruthless as she is in negotiations.”
I had a hard time understanding his words when his touch consumed my mind, so it took me a little while to formulate an answer.
“Are we…” I had to moisten my lips before I could finish. “Are we negotiating here? When did we start?”
If we were, I’d definitely missed the opening bid, as well as the stakes. And I wasn’t sure I cared about who was winning just as long as Morgan’s fingers continued their sensual dance.
“I don’t know,” he said. “But I’m pretty sure you won.”
And there I was thinking I was losing the game… Maybe the stroking was affecting him as much as it was me, because suddenly his grip tightened on my wrist. His other hand slipped under me, curled around my waist, and pulled me up on top of him. I let out a surprised gasp, but Morgan swallowed it when his mouth pressed against mine once more. He picked up the kiss right where he’d stopped moments ago, and I was all too happy to join in again.
I clutched the blanket on either side of him and pulled myself a little higher to get a better angle. When I let go to clasp Morgan’s shoulders instead, he rolled us over so that I was on my back and he lay half on top of me, half at my side, one of his thighs pressed tight against the apex of my legs.
For a few minutes—entire eternities—we rolled back and forth on the blanket, each of us taking and yielding the upper hand in turns. In between kisses, our mouths drifted, his to nibble on my earlobe and drive me crazy, mine sucking on his neck. I didn’t leave a bruise, but oh, I can’t deny I wanted to mark him, make him mine…
With every twist and roll of our bodies, my dress rode up more until it was bunched up around my waist. Morgan’s hands clutched there, tight and possessive, but he didn’t reach down to where I was so warm for him, my desire soaking my panties. Maybe he needed a hint…
When my hand, unsteady but definitely determined, found the first button of his shirt, he took hold of my wrist and led it to the side, effectively stopping me from undressing him. My mouth stilled against his, and I wondered if he only wanted to kiss.
Don’t get me wrong, kissing him was good—if I can even call what we’d been doing simply ‘kissing.’ Since Morgan made it a specialty to run away from intense situations, getting that much was already amazing. But by now my body was hoping for a lot more than a kiss. He must have understood my hesitation, because he pulled away from my mouth far enough to murmur, “Yes. But not here.”
A couple of blinks cleared my mind enough to hear his words, but not to understand them, and I sounded a little drunk when I asked, “What?”
“If you want to… to…” He let out a shaky breath against my collarbone. I wasn’t the only one unraveling from what we’d been sharing. “Let’s go downstairs.”
It was adorable. The way he stuttered and couldn’t say what he meant exactly? Absolutely adorable. Here he was, a grown man twenty times over, and he couldn’t say those words any more than I’d been able to at eighteen when my then-boyfriend had asked me to talk dirty to him. I’d dissolved into peals of embarrassed laughter then; now, I grinned and murmured, “If I want to what? Make love to you? Fuck you? Ride you? Push your face between my legs? Blow you?”
I don’t know what came over me. Maybe part of me wanted him to realize I wasn’t as young as he sometimes implied I was. Or maybe his kisses had just short-circuited every filter between my brain and mouth. Whatever the case, it was worth it to see him blink a few times, his eyes darkening with each flutter of his eyelids. And his voice when he said, “Yes. Yes. All that. Whatever you want,” was the kind of melted caramel and chocolate fudge that leaves you sticky all over, its taste lingering long after you’ve savored every last drop of it.
There was just one thing…
“You make it sound like it’s all on me,” I said, and my pout wasn’t completely fake. “Like you don’t want it.”
If the heated, hungry kiss he stole from me was meant to be an answer, it did the job quite thoroughly.
“I do,” he said shakily. “God, I really do. But not here.”
“Why?”
He told me why later. Or I suppose I should say he showed me. Well, that’s not right either—he wasn’t answering my question by then, or at least not any question I’d asked, and I just inferred. Even now part of me still wishes I didn’t know. If he’d told me at that moment, I’m rather certain things would have ended abruptly. He didn’t tell me then, though. Instead he shook his head and said, “Too many questions, Angelina.”
And with that, he stood, blew the candles out, and picked me up in his arms. The sensation was intensely familiar—so much so, in fact, that the déjà vu ma
de me a little uncomfortable. I bit down on my bottom lip, clung to Morgan’s shoulders with all my might, but in the end I had to ask.
“Morgan? This is… this is real, right? It’s not another fantasy, is it?”
Twice, he’d picked me up and carried me to bed. And yet, if this was real, it was the first time. Talk about confusing.
“It is real,” he said gravely. “And believe me, I’m as surprised as you are.”
“Why?”
I’d seen him run before, but it hadn’t prepared for the sensation of flying I felt when he rushed us back to his room. It took only seconds, two or three at most, and all I could do was cling to him and lose my breath.
When he set me down at the foot of his bed, my knees felt a little weak, and I had to hold on to him. He brushed flyaway strands of hair back behind my ear and didn’t quite meet my eyes when he said, “You’re right, Angelina. I do want you. But if I let myself love you… I’m afraid I’ll hurt you. And that’s the last thing I want.”
It wasn’t exactly a declaration of love… but he’d used the word just the same. One small, silly word, and it meant more than anything.
“I know you won’t hurt me,” I murmured against his mouth. “But if you did, I know you’d make it feel good. Make me beg. You said you like it when I beg.”
It wasn’t the kind of ‘hurt’ he meant, of course, but I wanted to see him smile, and it didn’t miss. A half-grin pulled at his mouth. He was amused, but I think he was also grateful that I’d taken the conversation to less shaky ground.
“I said that, yes.” His fingers found the zipper of my dress and pulled it down. “And you do sound very, very pretty when you beg.”
I dropped my hands to the fastenings of his pants and made short work of them.
“What if I make you beg for me instead?” I asked, grinning.
He helped by tugging his shirt off and letting it fall to the floor behind him.
“You could try,” he drawled. “But be prepared to be disappointed. I don’t beg.”
That was a challenge if I’d ever heard one. I accepted it by tugging my dress off and standing in front of him in my white undies and matching shoes. His smile wavered a bit as his eyes roamed over me hungrily.
“What would it take?” I asked. Sliding my hands under the edges of his pants, I pushed them and his boxers down his legs in one movement, freeing his hardened cock.
“I’m not sure I remember,” he said. “Do your worst.”
I lowered myself to my knees, keeping eye contact and offering him the most wicked grin I possessed.
“How about I try my best instead?” I said and laid my mouth on his dick.
I was back in déjà vu territory. I’d done this for him in the fantasy world. I knew what he liked and how the smallest hint of teeth under the crown would make him keen. But at the same time, it was all new, and I savored every minute of it. I rediscovered the length of him with long licks with the flat of my tongue. I sucked hard on the tip, hollowing my cheeks and looking up to see his reaction.
His head was bowed toward me, and he watched me through narrowed eyes darker than the darkest night. When I slowly worked my way up his shaft, taking progressively more of him into my mouth, he rested a hand at the back of my head, his fingers twisting and tangling in my hair. His other hand rested on mine on his hip, our fingers entwining.
I’d promised my best, and I gave it to him. I gave it to myself, too. His cock was perfect, perfectly succulent, and with every passing moment, with every gasp and moan I drew from him, every twitch of his hips as he tried to control himself, my panties grew wetter and my nipples pushed harder against the fabric of my bra.
When his breathing changed and his fingers tightened in a warning, I slowly pulled back up, slurping noisily, and closed my hand tight around the base of his cock.
Then I gave him a wide grin.
“You’re right, it’s just too… hard to get you to beg. I give up.”
“That’s…” He took in a sharp breath. His eyes, now open wide as they stared down at me, were polished onyx. “That’s cheating.”
My grin widened just a little bit more, and I even batted my eyelashes at him.
“Oh? I didn’t know there were rules.”
“Of course… of course there are rules.”
He was panting by now and a little unsteady, and oh, I can’t deny it aroused me to hear and see just how much of an effect I had on him.
“There are… there are always… rules. Do you know… what the first rule is?”
I swiped my tongue over the head of his cock just to feel him shiver again.
“Tell me.”
“The first rule is… Cheat as much and as often as needed.”
He put that into practice with a burst of speed that left me, again, breathless. I felt his hands on me, holding me, lifting me, but before it could even register what he was doing, I was lying on the bed, he’d dropped my shoes to the floor, torn my panties and bra off of me, and he was already between my spread legs, licking a long line along my wet folds and all the way to my clit.
The tragic fate of my underwear should have warned me that he was foregoing finesse. He sucked hard on my clit at the same time as he pressed a finger inside me. I was so wet that he slid right in—and right out again. When he drew a wet line down to my puckered ring, I started to tense, but another tight suck on my clit took my mind off the way his finger was circling gently. He didn’t press in. Not right away. He continued to draw wet circles while focusing on my clit, and every so often dipping his head lower to lap at my folds and even fuck me with his tongue for a few seconds before he returned to torturing my clit.
I’d been so proud of taking him close to begging. In moments, I was the one clutching the sheets, arching against his mouth and fingers, and pleading for him to make me come.
Ever the gentleman, he did.
Electricity shot through me, and my body jackknifed almost clear off the bed. My ears were ringing a little. Pleasure radiated through me in waves, and I closed my eyes, waiting for Morgan to join me on the bed and enter me.
Morgan, however, wasn’t done.
As soon as the shaking of my body abated, his mouth returned to me. At the same time, he coated a second finger in my wetness and this time, he didn’t only caress outside. This time, he pressed in, at the same time as he worked his tongue inside me. So soon after my orgasm, it was too much, and in just seconds I was squirming against him. I couldn’t have said if I was trying to get closer to him or get away from too much stimulation.
His mouth lifted off me, but his finger continued to caress, exerting pressure where it felt so new, so strange—so unexpectedly good.
“I wish you could see what you look like right now.” His murmur teetered on the edge of worship. “You’re a masterpiece made flesh. Exquisite. Perfectly imperfect. And every sound you make is a full symphony.”
Honestly, I didn’t moan on purpose. But between his words, the look in his eyes, and that wicked finger of his, I’m not sure how I could have stopped myself. His eyes seemed to gleam a little more, all of a sudden, and his voice was lower, throatier when he asked, “Do you want me, Angelina? Do you really?”
“Always.”
His body slid over mine, and he pressed open-mouth kisses to my stomach, my sides, my breasts as he made his way upward. Then he was above me, looking down at me with those unfathomable eyes that had drawn me in since the moment I’d first laid eyes on him. Our gazes remained locked as his cock surged inside me and he started to move, hitting every sensitive spot I’d never known I possessed. I clutched at his shoulders, my fingernails digging into his skin.
“Slow down,” I panted. “Let me… catch my breath. I’m too close.”
Did he slow down? Come on, take a guess.
Of course he didn’t.
He set a fast, steady rhythm, pushing me inexorably toward orgasm number two. It came as swiftly and violently as a summer storm, leaving me to cry out and buck a
gainst him, my body shaking beyond my control.
At first, I thought it was my lightheadedness that made me see the room move and change around me. But as my center of gravity shifted, Morgan’s cock suddenly seemed to reach a little deeper inside me. I blinked a few times, and as my head cleared, I realized that he’d reversed our positions, lying on his back and drawing me to kneel on top of him. His hands at my waist held me steady. When I met his eyes, he grinned.
“Your turn. You did say you would make me beg.”
A cocked eyebrow made that a challenge. I think you know how I feel about challenges…
I started slowly, both because I didn’t want to set myself off again and because I wasn’t sure I had enough coordination left for more than gentle hip rotations.
Slowly, however, can be overrated. Before I knew it, I was riding him at a gallop, both hands on his chest for support, my mouth open on continuous moans. He did make some interesting sounds himself, but just when they started to resemble a plea, he bit down on his bottom lip and silenced himself. I’d have given a lot to replace his teeth with mine over that plump, succulent lip.
I could feel pleasure rising again within me, but this time I didn’t want to fall in without him. I tried to ask how close he was, but all that came out was, “Are you…”
Before I could finish, he bucked up, sitting up and curling his arms around me. I held him as tightly as he held me, and in the moment our mouths crashed together, we each found our pleasure. We rode it out like that, wrapped in each other, drinking each other’s moans, our bodies still moving together until we both collapsed to the bed and I rolled off him.
“You know what?” I said, wheezing a little.
“What?”
He sounded just as out of breath as I was.
“I thought… I thought our fantasy trips were something, but this…”
He let out a weak laugh and leaned closer to brush a kiss to my shoulder. His hand settled on my hip, and he pushed gently, rolling me onto my side so that I faced away from him.
I tried to summon a protest, but it was hard to voice it when his fingers and mouth were caressing my back and the nape of my neck. He shifted closer to me, molding his chest to my back, and his arm draped across my chest. I sighed softly when he covered my left breast. In seconds, my nipple was hardening again against the palm of his hand. When it peaked, he teased it gently between two fingers, only letting go when I started to squirm against him and moan softly. Then he switched to the other side. So soon after my orgasm, each touch was like ice and fire at the same time, welcome and yet too much.
