by Quinn, Taryn
“Come for me, princess,” I murmured, meeting her eyes as I pressed the flat of my tongue to her clit and curved my fingers inside her, deliberately seeking out that secret spot that only worked on good days and if the angels aligned their interests with mine.
They were fucking singing with their harps out this morning.
“Oh God, what—oh God!” She bucked against me, yanking at my hair again and again as I flexed my groin into the bed in a futile attempt to get some relief. Going down on her was more erotic than I’d ever begun to guess. “Too much, I can’t—”
“Don’t fight it, princess,” I whispered, using the nickname that always seemed to work magic. “Just let go.”
Her pupils blew wide before she shut her eyes and arched, her whole body going taut as the rubber band of need inside her snapped. She flooded my tongue, her clit a manic drumbeat against my mouth as she screamed.
Fucking screamed. Not some little moan meant as a merit badge for a halfway decent effort.
She was still quaking when I finally gathered my wits enough to climb up her body. I kissed her with lips soaked from her and she ate at them, hungry for every taste and sensation I could offer. Her hands raced down my back, her nails scraping my skin as she shoved down my boxers and cupped my ass. Hard. Nails leaving welts while she sucked on my tongue to swallow every bit of herself left behind.
“You better have a fucking condom,” she panted, and I couldn’t decide if I wanted to groan or laugh.
So I did both.
“I didn’t come here to get laid. What kind of man do you think I am?”
“A smart one who’d better get moving.” She smacked my ass and I rolled off her, kicking my tangled boxers down my legs and onto the floor. Where I soon followed.
Christ. Classy move, dude.
But it was completely worth it to look up from where I was lying on the floor on my back with the wind knocked out of me to see her peering over the edge, her big green eyes dancing, her hair falling forward to frame her lovely flushed cheeks. She looked freshly fucked, and I hadn’t even had the honor yet.
“Need a hand?” she asked silkily, but she didn’t reach for that. She gripped my cock, giving it a long, hard stroke, ending with the perfect amount of friction at the tip. She shimmied forward, her long hair trailing over my tensed belly. “Maybe a mouth…”
“Uh-uh. Not again. I have plans for that delicious pussy of yours.”
“Good. So let’s go.” She licked her lips and squeezed her hand over my length one more time. “It misses you.”
I groaned. Christ. Dead. I was so dead.
Somehow I stumbled to my knees and crawled over to the chair that held my clothes. Her joyous laughter filled my head as I struggled to retrieve my wallet and the condoms inside. I had three crammed in there, and they hadn’t been touched in longer than Sage would believe.
I intended to use every damn one today. Morning, noon, and night, as often as her untried pussy could take me.
With condoms in hand, I stood and returned to the bed. Her heavy eyes drank me down, lingering unabashedly on my cock. It was painfully hard, and her attention didn’t help that matter. She reached for it and leaned up to meet my mouth at the same time, caressing me in uneven pulls that shouldn’t have made me even hotter. But she was so greedy, so expressive, that every bit of excitement she showed only increased my own.
I settled myself between her legs and kissed her softly, trying to convey that I was in no rush. My body was, but my mind and gut and everything in between wanted to stay right here with her in this bed forever. But she was rubbing herself against me, soaking me with the proof of her readiness, and fuck, I was only so strong.
As I leaned up to roll on the condom, she took it out of my hand.
“Can I?”
Nodding, I guided her hands when necessary. It gratified me in some caveman-like way I didn’t care to explore that her fingers fumbled, and she caught her lip between her teeth as she tried to roll it on. Clearly, this too was new to her. She’d never even gotten this far.
I wished like hell she’d never get this far with another man again.
Just me. Only me. And I didn’t care what that said or what it meant.
Mine. All fucking mine.
The instant the latex was in place, I loomed over her, bracing my arms on either side of her on the pillows. “Hold on tight, princess. But this time, hold on tight to me.”
She wrapped her arms and legs around me, tilting back her head to give me the sweetest kiss. “I’m glad it’s you, Oliver,” she whispered, and I couldn’t hold back a second more. My hips drove forward of their own accord.
She cried out, and later, I would rue that I hadn’t maintained control for just a bit longer. But there were no half measures, and once I was in, I was all the way in, sinking to the depths of her before drawing back slowly. So slowly that she whimpered and bit down on my chin, drawing blood.
“Okay?”
I expected her to tell me to stop. Her eyes were wet, and I could tell from the tension in her limbs that I’d hurt her. But she nodded, her smile fierce as she rose up to meet my next thrust. And the next, and the next.
Losing myself in them was like breathing. I tried to take it easy, to remember that no matter her enthusiasm, this was all new to her. But God, the sounds she was making as she dragged her nails down my lower back were my undoing.
“More. I’m okay.” She nipped my lip. “I want it harder. Make me come again.”
I let the chain on my control snap and rutted into her the way my body demanded, hauling her legs up until they were over one shoulder and I could grip her thighs for leverage. She was right there with me, her moans endless as she scrabbled her hands over the pillows for purchase. She turned her head, biting one of them as her pussy spasmed, wrenching my cock so tightly that I couldn’t hold back my groan. Goddamn, I was close. A couple more strokes.
I worked her hard, and harder still, muttering apologies and promising to make it up to her later as I sought my elusive orgasm. Right there, right there.
And then I felt the condom break—a second before my hips snapped forward and I drained myself into her giving pussy with a long, low groan.
I collapsed half on top of her and half on the pillows, my mind already racing as hard as my still pulsing body.
Fucking hell.
I’d just come inside her with nothing between us.
Maybe it was a small hole. A pinprick. Perhaps only a few swimmers had sneaked through.
Fuck me.
It wouldn’t have been as obvious if I hadn’t been paying so much more attention than usual to all the nuances of her reactions. Not that I hadn’t lost the thread of those when my overeager cock had decided to run the show.
Christ, it was her first time. She couldn’t get pregnant. I mean, what were the chances?
Ask your brother that. The kid’s name is Laurie.
“Oh, wow. My God. Wow. That was…” She trailed off and shifted to grin at me over her shoulder. “Sex is so awesome.”
I returned her grin weakly. So weakly she probably thought I’d sprained a hamstring.
How could I ruin her afterglow with a conversation like this?
Glad you enjoyed it. How do you feel about unplanned pregnancy?
“It certainly is.” I rolled away from her to attend to the condom. I cupped my hand over the weapon of my destruction, walked into the bathroom, calmly flipped on the light, stared downward, and only narrowly resisted shouting a curse.
The latex was ripped like a child’s piñata after it had been attacked by a bat—or it appeared damn close to my crazed brain. I had no illusions that my dick was an object of sports memorabilia, but holy shit, I had a lawsuit on my hands.
All over my hands.
“You okay in there?” Sage called.
“Fine.” I cleaned up and braced my palms on the edge of the sink.
Now what? I didn’t have the foggiest.
Me, the guy who neve
r faltered.
Ever.
I had no freaking clue what to say or do next. The last thing I wanted to do was mar this experience for Sage, and discussing broken condoms was basically a recipe for such.
Her footsteps were padding toward me, making that decision imminent.
She appeared outside the doorway, still gloriously naked, her lush body covered with a few marks from my lips and hands and growing-in beard. They only added to her allure.
I wanted to tell her how much I appreciated that she’d shared herself with me. How much this morning had meant to me.
Instead, I shut the door in her face.
Nine
I stared at the closed door and rubbed my miraculously only slightly throbbing head. My hangover was almost nonexistent.
My sexover though? Huge.
Oliver did not come out.
To even my surprise, I didn’t panic or begin to accuse myself of being a bad lay. Screw that. I had been a damn awesome lay. Especially since it was all brand new.
He’d nearly broken me in half when he came. If that was crappy sex, well, sign me up for some of that every day for the rest of my life.
Nope, something else was at play here, and I had a good guess what it was.
Mr. Commitment-phobe was getting freaked out.
I shifted on my feet and winced at the soreness between my thighs, both from the sex itself and his scruff on my sensitive skin. That same sensation prickled over my breasts and neck.
So many reactions all hitting me at once. So many more things I wanted to explore.
I wasn’t a virgin anymore. But I wasn’t going to insult myself and think about how now I was a woman, because fudge that, I’d always been a woman. I just hadn’t had sex before.
Mission finally accomplished. Yet here I was, waiting for him to man up and face me.
Amused, I leaned a shoulder against the door. “Oliver, Oliver, come out wherever you are.” Wuss, I added under my breath.
He didn’t reply right away. For the briefest instant, old, familiar fears tried to raise their annoying little heads.
Maybe he decided virgins were too much work.
Maybe he’s afraid you’re going to cry and be emotional.
Maybe he doesn’t know how to tell you he was a one-and-done.
And not performance-wise either. But he didn’t need to tell me that. I’ve lived in Crescent Cove all my life. He’s a serial monogamist, emphasis on serial. It’s not as if I expected him to spoon afterward.
It might be nice, but whatever. We were in Vegas. I had things to do. I wanted to go to the Elvis chapel, for Pete’s sake. Oliver’s issues with intimacy so did not fit into my timetable for the day.
And you know what? I was going to tell him that. No more shrinking violet for me.
Empowered, devirginized Sage, reporting for duty.
I lifted my hand to knock on the door, and it swung open. Before I could tell him I was about to get dressed and go see Elvis, he clamped his arm under my ass and swept me off my feet. His mouth closed over mine and I forgot I was supposed to be pissed. Pretty sure I forgot everything except the pressure of his lips, teasing mine apart.
He carted me back to the bed and sat down with me on his lap, sensually stroking his hand over my hair. He wasn’t even winded. With him, I felt petite and feminine and…happy. At least when he wasn’t pissing me off, and right now, we were good.
So good.
I cupped his scruffy jaw, drawing my thumb over the surprisingly dense hair already growing in. “I’ve never seen you anything but clean-shaven.”
His brows were knitted, the expression in his dark eyes so heavy. “My kit is next door.”
“Well, don’t rush. I like it. Makes you look roguish and hot.” I lowered my head, about to show my appreciation for that fact, when he placed a finger over my mouth.
“We have to talk.” He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. “I apologize for running off on you before, but I truly didn’t know how to handle this.”
Just like that, all my joyful sexy-time vibes vanished into the ether. My skin iced over, and I shifted on his lap, prepared to climb off. If he was going to tell me to get lost—or some variation—I’d prefer if he did it while I was dressed and not all snuggled against him as if we were normal lovers.
For once, I’d just wanted to be normal.
“You don’t have to say some big speech. I’m honestly fine with it. You may not believe me—”
“The condom broke.”
I narrowed my eyes on his clearly concerned expression. As a rule, Oliver appeared just this side of stern, but this was more than usual even for him.
He appeared genuinely worried.
“Okay.”
“Okay? You’re not on the pill, are you?”
I shook my head. “For what? There were no invaders in my tunnel of love.”
For the briefest moment, his lips twitched before he sobered once again. “No difficult menstrual cycles in your past, obviously.” He exhaled. “Of course not.”
“Your knowledge of what aids the female reproductive cycle is both impressive and horrifying.”
He didn’t laugh, just brushed my hair away from my brow. “Most likely, it’ll be fine.”
“Sure. That seems likely.” I nodded vigorously. Positive beliefs brought about positive results.
I’d been all about that motto, until my parents had sold my dreams right out from under me.
“There are options.” He cleared his throat and picked up my hand, playing with my fingers as if he couldn’t meet my gaze. “Like the morning-after pill. Just as a precaution—”
“No.”
He frowned. “No?”
“Yes. It’s a two-letter word meaning negatory. I don’t think we have anything to worry about.” I scrambled off him and picked up the shreds of my lingerie, balling them in my hands.
I set a little scrap aside to keep for my memory book. That was even better than a photo of our sex lair.
Biting my lip, I glanced back at the messy sheets. Maybe I’d snag a quick snap of that too.
Then I glimpsed the small spot of blood.
It embarrassed me more than anything else. I’d have to clean it up. God only knows what the hotel would charge. Besides, gross. I should’ve thought ahead. Grabbed a towel. Something.
I rushed into the bathroom to get a wet washcloth, but when I turned, I bumped into Oliver. I hadn’t even heard him follow me. Damn cat-quiet movements of his.
“I have to take care of—”
“Let me. I’ll take care of that, and you too.” He caught the fist with the washcloth and brought it to his chest.
To my absolute horror, the backs of my eyes grew hot. What the heck was wrong with me? I’d been fine five minutes ago. Then I’d seen a tiny spot and talked about some dumb pill I wasn’t even going to take and I was all screwed up.
“I’m not taking some pill.” I stared at his throat because I couldn’t bear to face him dead-on. He’d think I was soft and spineless, and maybe I was. Maybe I was too sensitive to be a woman of the world.
I’d just have to live with that. Make my peace with who I was at heart, just perhaps strive to be a bolder version now and then.
When he didn’t say anything, I couldn’t stop from filling the silence. “I know all your other women probably wouldn’t hesitate, and I’m sure it’s a needless precaution, but I can’t do it. It just doesn’t feel right to me.”
Some part of me waited for an accusation. A small, angry part that had already lifted her fists, prepared to duke it out if need be.
Hoping for a Hamilton progeny, are you?
The child didn’t actually exist, but I’d do battle just the same.
Instead, he gripped my chin and tugged my face closer. “I don’t have any other women,” he murmured, and something about his phrasing made my heart slam against the wall of my chest. “You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I just wanted you to have all the information, so you cou
ld make your own choice.”
The tears came again, except this time one sneaked through. He caught it with his thumb and I swallowed hard. “All I ever wanted was choices.”
He nodded as if it made all the sense in the world. “With me, you’ll always have them.”
I leaned my head against him and absorbed the crazy thud of his heartbeat under my ear. “Thank you.”
“Not necessary.” He brushed a kiss over the top of my head. “I didn’t want to ruin this for you. I mean, assuming I could, unless you already didn’t find it satisfactory. And if so—”
“Oliver.”
“Yes?”
I closed his lips with my fingers, surprised at how easy it was to smile with him. Even easier than it was to snark or toss insults. “Shut up.”
We went back into the bedroom and he cleaned up the sheet and me, though I told him I would just take a shower. But he was insistent, and then he told me why.
Apparently, broken condoms don’t always break cleanly. Sometimes pieces get left behind.
Yeah, you guessed it. My heretofore untested love canal had possibly been strewn with the perils of hasty sex. Or improper condom usage, which was probably closer to it.
Next time, I’d just let him handle the latex and I’d take notes. If there was a next time.
There had almost been one when he’d been performing the surprisingly unhideous cavity search. He’d managed to make it arousing. He made everything arousing, which was how I’d ended up coming by the end of it.
All’s well that ends well, right?
We showered and he returned to his room to get his suitcases. Seemed stupid for him to be so far away, when I pretty much wanted him to live inside me.
Over the top? Not so much. I had a lot of time to make up for.
“I feel like we should compromise on the day’s activities,” he said over lunch in yet another restaurant, this one with an open-air patio that let me take picture after picture of the palm trees, and the pedestrian with the fun, jaunty hat, and the cool vintage cars that rolled past. Vegas was a whirlwind, and I wanted lots of images for my journal.
Pictures of Oliver weren’t a must, since I could take those any old time. But he was wearing a Hawaiian shirt purchased at the same boutique we’d gotten my bikini—still had a skirt, so whatever—and I figured I’d probably never see him in it again. He kept pulling at the collar and saying things like “thank God no one knows me here” and “is it bikini time yet?”
