Because Beards
Page 7
“Oh, God,” he groaned, head falling back.
She smiled wickedly, then pulled the waistband with her fingers. He lifted his hips so she could slide the pants off, freeing his cock.
Her eyes widened at how much of him she would have to take in her mouth, and eventually in her body. It thrilled her to the point she arched her back like a cat and licked her lips. She smoothed her palm along the silken, hot shaft before grasping it, and licked from the balls to the head, eliciting a loud moan from him.
He linked his hands behind his head with an expression of a man lost in bliss.
She worked his member in her mouth, swirling her tongue while alternating between a hard grip and a soft one. A fast suck, and a slow lap. He hissed and cursed, lifting his hips. She continued pleasuring him until he gripped her hair and pulled her off him.
She laughed huskily. “What’s the matter?”
Breathing hard, he closed his eyes. “Witch. I already worship you as it is. But you have to stop.”
She gave a little pout. “Fine. Then worship me.”
She lay down on the blanket, brought her knees up, and removed her panties, before slowly spreading her legs. He made a feral sound and went down to crawl toward her, capturing her mouth for so long she had to drop back to breathe.
“Condom?” She didn’t know what she’d do if he didn’t have any.
“That’s what I went into town for,” he said with a crooked smile. He sat back on his haunches and grabbed his pants. Marveling at the beauty of his body, she rested her foot on his shoulder, watching him roll the protection on.
Once done, he held her leg and kissed her ankle, making his way along her inner leg from calve to thigh. When he rubbed the pad of his thumb on her pussy, she cried out at the electric, torrid sensations shooting to every nerve.
“So wet for me already,” he murmured before taking a long lick of her. “And you taste good.”
“Justin…I can’t wait,” she pleaded. “Come here.”
He chuckled. “All right. I’ll save that for later when you’re trying to sleep.” Moving up, he planted his hands on each side of her, meeting her gaze. “You’re so beautiful.”
He ran her hand down the side of his face. “So are you.” She bent her knees and drew him down to her, kissing him.
He locked his arm at her back and plunged his iron-hard cock inside her.
She softly cursed, gripping his butt, wanting him as deep as he could go. They soon found a rhythm, and with each push of his hips, the ecstasy increased and expanded in her body and soul.
He kissed her temple, nose, mouth, and switched to his back. She rode him for a while, increasing her speed, moaning louder and louder.
“No, wait,” he uttered, sitting up, and slowing her down. He smoothed the wild tresses from her eyes. “Not yet.”
With their eyes locked, she complied, and eased her pace.
He buried his face in her chest, and she held them there, moving her hips at a languid measure. “I’m going to come,” she whispered, lying back, letting him guide her hips for a little bit. The look on his face was what she’d been waiting for. Undiluted lust. Need. Surrender. And…something else.
Love?
Or maybe that was just what she wanted to see. She sat up and wrapped her arms around him, frightened he might not feel the way she did. That she was just wishing so hard, it was making her see things that weren’t really there.
Justin shifted her to her back and brought the blanket over them. He held her close, penetrating hard and deep.
She was lost. It was time to let go.
When she cried out for the last time and scratched her nails down his back, she felt him shudder, heard him call her name.
Time stopped again. All she could hear was their mutually unsteady breathing, and feel his tightly muscled body on hers, keeping her warm, keeping her close.
Too bad she was eventually going to have to push him away.
Men in love acted like idiots. They did foolish things to make women happy because doing so seemed to make them happy.
Justin never understood.
And he still didn’t, even though he was well aware he was in love with Antonia, and finding himself channeling his inner fool to please her playful side, make her smile, or just surprise the hell out of her. Her opinion of him seemed to be that, because he had a high IQ and had started a multi-million-dollar company before the age of forty—and grown a beard—he was more serious than the average man.
Not true. Not with her.
The morning after the storm, they made love again, then cooked breakfast. He caught up on his emails, started a file for the notes on It’s Living, and she read him the headlines.
His conference call with Shawn went well, until Antonia walked by him wearing nothing but his shirt. His brain temporarily froze. He caught her by the hand, muted the call, and proceeded to punish her with illicit kisses and groping until she was panting in his arms. Then he set her off his lap and told her he had to get to work.
She smacked him hard for teasing her like that.
In the afternoons, they took Fletch for a walk or a boat ride. One day, he got a perfect picture of Antonia leaning over the side to feed the ducks. He’d called her name, she looked over, smiled, and he caught the moment on his smart phone.
They had rowdy sex in the trailer, with him spanking her ass while he bent her over the tiny table. And they got naughty in the lake, with her forcing him to swim out far to catch her before he could touch her.
She insisted on making dinner, and he insisted she be the dessert. He laid her on the table and licked her until she screamed in Spanglish. He got a kick out of that.
Every night after dinner, they’d pour wine—or tequila—and discuss details about It’s Living. For months he’d been chewing on this venture, but it wasn’t until he told Antonia did he finally feel excited. They discussed it for hours, building on one another’s ideas and at times arguing until one of them gave up.
But no matter what, the night ended with them making love slowly, intensely, because the end of another day meant they were closer to bringing their week to its end.
She gave him all of her; his woman didn’t hold back. There was nothing lovelier than her clinging to him, seeing her eyes glitter with passion, her hair spread over the floor. Sometimes she’d bow her back and cry out, and sometimes she’d bite her bottom lip and barely make a sound when she came.
No other woman fascinated him like she did.
In five days, she became his best friend, lover, and confidant, though she’d been two of the three for the past year. When she asked him if they could stay until Sunday morning, pushing back his return to Seattle, he readily agreed. He didn’t want to leave either. He slept better next to her, and a lot longer than four mere hours. Amazing what one woman could do.
There was the one thing they hadn’t discussed: what would happen to them once they were home. He knew what he wanted to happen, but didn’t know if it was what she had in mind.
He had to know if she was his. But then again, why the need to define it after only six days? Since when was he the sensitive one in the relationship?
Sunday morning after a swim, he yanked open the back door to find the music on, Antonia singing, making waffles, and tossing Fletch bits of bacon in between.
Since when? Since right that moment. He wanted to come home to this, every day.
She beamed a smile at him. “Hey! I taught Fletch a new trick. Watch.” She took a piece of bacon and shouted. “Speak!”
To which the dog responded with a single “woof!”
“Speak, speak!”
“Woof! Woof!”
She laughed and gave him the bacon. “See?”
He grinned and lifted her on the counter. “Is there no male who won’t bend to your command?”
She licked her finger, shook her head, and set her arms on his shoulders. “Not that I know of. How was your swim?”
“Enlightening.”
“Oh? You came up with another dazzling idea?”
“I think so.” He moved a lock of hair away from her face. “You and me. Making this official.”
The smile faded from her mouth. “You mean…?”
“I want you to be mine. And I’ll be yours. Only yours.”
She pushed off the counter and away from him. “We can’t. I just…am not sure we should do that while working together.”
“It’s 2016. I don’t believe in regimented office rules. It’s my company. I can be with whomever I want. That includes my gorgeous and intelligent VP of PR. Of course we’ll be discreet and keep our personal relationship separate from our work. But everyone is going to know we’re together. I’m not keeping it secret.”
“Even so, you know some employees will take issue with it.”
“I don’t care. It’s not as if you’ll get any special perks no one else gets.” He tried to lighten the discussion. “Except my body. You’re the only one allowed to use it.”
He had only annoyed her with that remark. She groaned, and ran her hands through her hair. “I don’t know if I can sleep with my boss and go into work every day like it’s no big deal.”
“I’m not just your boss anymore. Just tell yourself it isn’t a big deal, and it won’t be.”
“But it is, Justin!”
His heart hammered at the thought that he might not get what he so badly needed. “Then what do you want? Because I want you. You and I can’t end here. We just started.” No way was he going to lose her over an ethical technicality. Looked like he had to put it all on the line to convince her. “I love you.”
She gasped, her gaze shooting into his. Her chest rose and fell with every unsteady breath.
“I love you,” he repeated.
Still, she said nothing in return.
Surprised her again. And she was about to get another one. He dug in his pocket and gently set the simple silver ring with the chip diamond on the counter, and his heart and future on the line. “What if we got engaged?”
She stared at the ring, shocked beyond reaction, except the stunned-into-a-stupor kind. “When did you get that?” she exclaimed.
“The other day at a boutique shop, right after I got the condoms. I knew that day you were the one. Actually, I’ve known for a while…” He crossed his arms and leaned against the counter. “It’s just a little thing, but it’ll do until—”
“Marry you? I haven’t even told you I love you yet!”
“Well, don’t you?”
She gave a shaky laugh, overwhelmed. Of course she did. She’d been in love with him for months, but planned to keep it to herself. However, it appeared Justin didn’t want to wait. Thank God. “Yes. You smug jerk. I love you.”
His gaze softened with relief. “Then let’s make it easy. Marry me.”
“Typical man! Marriage is not easy!”
“It can’t be any harder than staying apart was.”
“Oh, it can be a lot harder. You know that.”
“Okay, we won’t get married right away. Think about it. If we get engaged, people will forget the scandal part and focus on the engagement. They’ll know we’re in love and not just having sex for fun. Come on baby, you’re in PR. Put a spin on it.”
She put up her hands. “You are crazy, mi amor.”
“So are you. Let’s be crazy together.”
But he had the right idea. She could spin the hell out of it, especially when she started leaking tidbits about the new side project. The coverage on that would override any personal news. Would anyone at the office really be that upset?
She still had one more argument. “People will think I’m marrying you for your money.”
“Unfortunately, we can’t stop people from thinking all kinds of things about us. But if I’m not mistaken, you just said yes.”
“What!”
“You said ‘People will think I’m marrying…’ So you are marrying me. Good.”
Before she could move, he came in and kissed her, stopping time, and temporarily making her forget how fast they were moving. There was just one more thing… Hands on his cheeks, she shook her head. “How long have you loved me?”
“Since day one, I think.”
“Oh, really? Well, I lied to your face on day one so you might want to rethink your wild proposal.”
“Lied? About what?”
“I…don’t actually have a degree in public relations.” She made a face. “I’m sorry. I really wanted the job.”
He straightened. “What! Did Drew know?”
She groaned. “Yes. It was true I learned everything at the PR firm, but it wasn’t exactly an internship. My aunt was a director there, and she made me work for her for free, as punishment for spending my first semester exploring Italy instead of taking classes. I fell in love with public relations. I found my calling! I planned to go back to college, but then Drew said there was a new, small company in need of a PR expert. When he told me about It’s Handled, I jumped at the chance. I was going to tell you at the interview, but then you were so impressed, I bit my tongue.” She searched his face. “Now, do you still want to marry a fraud and a liar?”
He stepped back, brows drawing together.
Her heart squeezed and she swallowed the lump forming in her throat. If she lost him—and possibly her job—she’d be devastated. But he had to know. She’d wanted to tell him for a long time.
“Justin, I’m sorry. It was wrong to lie about my qualifications. Everything else is the truth.”
“I can’t believe it.” He gripped her shoulders. “I can’t believe you thought I wouldn’t want to marry you because of that. You’ve more than proven your worth at your position, and thank God your path brought you straight to me. With or without higher education. I only went to college because I thought I’d take over Microsoft one day.” He started to tickle her. “So you do accept? What do you say now?”
Out of breath with laughter, she pushed him. “All right! I say yes. I’m yours for life, Justin Faber.” She paused, folding her hands behind her. “Mm. Antonia Faber. I like that.”
He kissed her tenderly, and she melted back on the sofa, starting to unbutton her shirt. He retrieved the ring and slid it on her finger before coming down to nuzzle her neck.
“I love you,” he said, kissing between her breasts and moving down.
“And I love you.” She ran her fingers through his hair while his mouth charted a path down her stomach. Her world was about to change in so many ways, but she didn’t have to think about that now. “When can we come back here?”
“Next weekend. We’ll fly. As many weekends as you want to. You were meant to find this place. Meant to find me, and bring me home.”
She smiled, cupping his face and guiding him to her lips. “And I always will.”
About Angelita Gill
Angelita is the author of fun, sexy contemporary romance, where the heroes tend to drop sexual innuendo, and the heroines have all the real power.
When she’s not torturing them to their happily-ever-after, Angelita loves volunteering for the arts, spending time with her own alpha hero and dancing with her friends while she tries not to spill her wine. Sign up for her newsletter here.
Website: www.angelitagill.com
Fan Page: www.facebook.com/authorangelita
There was a frantic energy around us, bouncing like ping-pong balls off every surface, and pummeling into me. With each announcement, the electricity seemed to ratchet up. So did the volume. I couldn’t tell if it was excitement building inside me or something else completely.
I was out of place in my cut off jean shorts that put my long legs on display and my vintage AC/DC t-shirt that showed off my cleavage. I wasn’t dolled up in green and yellow and shaking pompoms. Instead, I was still wearing my dark Ray-bans and was touching up my deep purple lipstick.
It was at that moment where sunset switched to dusk and, with a big thunk, all the lights of the stadium flooded on. Mandy went to say
something but the combination of a disorienting amount of energy and the roar of the crowd cut her off.
“Wait, what?” I turned and shouted at her.
She had no prayer of hearing, let alone answering. Apparently, the stadium had been operating at a dull roar until now. The new wave of sound crashed down and split my ears as it rang and reverberated off every surface, making my teeth chatter. Mandy was caught up in whatever I had missed, and she was screeching down at the field.
When I looked down, nothing much had changed. The Timbers were still walking out one by one with their backs to us, each had a miniature soccer player at their side. The announcer was more excited than he’d been a minute ago but even his words were drowned out.
Why is everyone losing their shit?
I knew people in Portland took their soccer seriously but this was unreal. I rolled my eyes, and when Mandy jabbed me in my side, I did it again, this time so big it almost hurt my eyeballs.
The players lined up with the kids squarely in front of them as an American flag unfurled overhead. The crowd only silenced when our anthem started playing. Automatically, Mandy and I placed our hands over our hearts. My question was still burning my throat, but I bit my lip until the cheering started back up at the end of the song.
“What was that eruption earlier?” I asked as I started to sit but she grabbed my arm and hauled me back up. I stood, narrowed my gaze at her, and put my hands on my hips.
Mandy just laughed. “Livy, that was The Beard.”
“Oh Lord.” I rolled my eyes again. “The Beard?” I said it as thick with disgust as I possibly could.
“Yeah.” Mandy wasn’t deterred in the least. “Check out number four.” My eyes scanned the field only to find the dark wavy haired Hulk sprinting up the field.
Number four barely fit in his jersey, the seams had to be close to splitting. I was surprised there weren’t cracks in the lettering of his last name. Foster read like a neon billboard, drawing me to the dips and grooves in his shoulders and back, then my eyes dropped lower. His ass was so high and tight that his shiny jersey couldn’t naturally slide down over it. It just rested on top of his mountain of muscle instead, like a shelf. I happily pictured biting it. Every inch of him could do with a nibble or a lick.