Escaping Mr Right

by Avril Tremayne

  ‘G-o-o-o-o-d,’ I said, writhing on the bed like a madwoman and clutching the sheet so hard I wondered if I was going to rip it. Shocking, that he could make me so wild, so fast.

  He stopped, lowered my hips, and looked up at me, eyes hot like coals. ‘The thing is,’ he said, ‘I want all of you in my mouth at once. But let’s start … like … this,’ he said and drew me up again to kiss my mouth. ‘You taste so good,’ he breathed against my lips. ‘Can you taste yourself? Having both tastes in my mouth is driving me insane. I am going to make you so wet … and then I’m going to suck you dry.’

  If making me wet was his aim, he was off to a rollicking start. Nobody had ever, ever spoken to me like that and I was scandalised, but I freaking loved it.

  And then the whirlwind started. Somehow, he was kissing my mouth, and using his thigh – his thigh! – against the core of me, and brushing his chest hair just so against my nipples, all at the same time. How did he know how crazy that would make me?

  ‘Touch me harder,’ I urged, as I undulated against him, longing for the ache in my nipples, the throb between my knees, to be eased.

  He kissed me so hard I couldn’t breathe, I didn’t want to, and then I did some desperate kind of shimmy against his chest – seriously, I did not do that kind of stuff, ever – and he gasped, his mouth sliding off mine.

  ‘God, yes,’ he said. ‘Keep going, Chloe, keep going … and know that I am going to suck those tight nipples of yours until you’re begging me.’

  Could he get any hotter? Because I was at begging stage already.

  ‘I want to suck you too,’ I said, and reached down to take that superb hard-on of his into my hand.

  He gasped, then groaned, and seemed to grow even harder It felt so good to run my hand up and down the length of him, a little disjointed in my unfocused passion, I didn’t want to stop. Didn’t ever want to stop.

  ‘Chloe, wait,’ he said.

  ‘Don’t you like it?’

  ‘Are you nuts? I love it,’ he said on a shaky laugh. ‘Everything you do is right for me. Everything. But I won’t last if you touch me for even one more moment. And remember, this one is for me. You do whatever you want next time.’

  And suddenly, I was flat on my back on the bed again, and he was straddling me. The look of concentration on his face as his hands reached for my breasts was an aphrodisiac; I’d never before had someone so completely focused on just the sight of me.

  And then, using the tips of his fingers, Nick started circling my areolae, circling, circling until they were so swollen, my nipples so tight with need, I was whimpering.

  ‘Do you have any idea how many times I’ve imagined touching you like this?’ he asked, and his voice was hoarse.

  Yes. No. Shut up. Who cares? Just do it!

  ‘So now I’m going to do it right,’ he said, and his fingertips were at my nipples now, tiny, tiny circles over the top, the pleasure so intense my hips started rolling up against him. He lowered his head, and his mouth replaced his fingers at one of my breasts, sucking the nipple deep into his mouth, while his fingers kept up that almost unbearably erotic touch at my other nipple. My legs were wrapped around his hips, trying to drag him into my wetness, desperate to come. One hard lick of my nipple and he raised his head to look at me. ‘You’re not making it easy,’ he said. I tightened my legs around his hips, and he groaned, bucking helplessly against me. And yet he still managed to keep himself in check, swapping his mouth to my other breast, fingers pinching my freed nipple, rolling it.

  ‘Touch me here,’ I said, and thrust against him. But he just kept up the incessant pressure at my breasts, until my nipples were so engorged, so hard, it was almost painful. ‘Nick, I’ll die if you don’t.’

  He laughed, low in his throat. ‘Okay,’ he said, and started his descent, kissing his way down my body. Down, down, down, until he was between my legs. He slid his fingers along the creases on the insides of my thighs. ‘Open wide for me,’ he said – and I did, although it was hard to do it when I wanted to squeeze him with my thighs to keep him there and urge him on, urge him in.

  And then he adjusted his position so that his head was perfectly positioned. His mouth, God, his mouth, just there. He held still for the longest, breathe-you-in moment – and then he swooped. One lush lick, and then he put his lips around my clitoris and sucked.

  Bam! Two seconds, that was all it took for the orgasm to slam into me. It was like the speed dating of orgasms. Before I’d recovered, his mouth was working me again, sucking with more pressure, tongue flicking, fingers against my slippery folds. I clutched at his head, dragging him in as soft, desperate, keening cries that I could not stop burst from my lips, because it was rolling around again.

  ‘I can’t,’ I gasped out. ‘No more.’

  ‘You can,’ he said, and suckled gently.

  ‘Please, Nick, I need you inside me,’ I begged.

  ‘Soon,’ he promised, and licked me harder, faster – and I was coming again.

  In. Credible.

  His mouth kept going at me while he was fumbling around in the bedclothes. Condom, I realised. Hurry, hurry, hurry, hurry, get it on. Yes! He’d found it, done it, ready to go.

  A moment later he slid up my body, kissed my mouth again, and with an almost brutal thrust, he was inside me. Shoving himself inside me.

  ‘You make me crazy,’ he breathed into my mouth. ‘Crazy, crazy, crazy. I want you to come again. I want to make you come harder than you’ve ever come. Better than ever.’

  ‘Then do it, damn you, just do it!’ I panted against his mouth, and he laughed and groaned and pushed so hard into me the bed jumped backwards and hit the wall.

  Time stood still. That’s what it felt like. My own harsh breaths tearing around the room. His too. Rough hands gripping my thighs, pushing them wide, wider and upwards so he could go deeper, mouth attacking mine. ‘Tell me when,’ he demanded. ‘Tell me when, Chloe.’

  ‘Now,’ I said as the orgasm tore through me and it felt like firecrackers in my blood, exploding, scorching. One more demented push, and everything in him tensed. His mouth slid over mine – any pretence at finesse gone – and a savage cry ripped out of him.

  Long, long moments later, he raised his head and looked into my still-startled eyes.

  There were no words.

  He peeled off the condom, peered over the side of the bed and dropped it, with a laugh. I scrambled over him to see what he’d done and saw that he’d dropped it into his shoe. (Can you believe that I was not grossed out by that?)

  ‘Not leaving this bed,’ he said simply, and then rearranged us, so I was lying close to him, my back to his chest. He nuzzled his face into my neck, moving one hand down my belly until it was resting over my pubic mound. Talk about grasping the prize!

  It was too much. Too … intimate.

  The sex was over. He should be getting out of bed, depositing the condom in a proper receptacle, the way a normal human being would, then getting dressed and going back to his own room.

  I tried to edge away as an encouragement for him to get moving, but Nick tightened his hold. ‘Stay there, Chloe. Just … please, stay there.’ He breathed in, long and slow and deep. Then out. ‘Ah, Chloe.’

  I stilled, a gargantuan lump in my throat forming from those two little words. Ah, Chloe. Because they sounded sad enough to break a heart.

  I felt a soft kiss just below my ear, and then he breathed deeply again, like he was breathing me in. Ah, Chloe. Echoing in my head. I wanted to turn completely into him, and kiss him, and wrap him in my arms. Not because I needed it, but because he did.

  ‘Night,’ he said. And within moments, he was asleep.

  Three times during the night I tried to roll free of his embrace.

  Three times, in his sleep, he stopped me, one arm snuggling me even closer, the other shifting so that his hand was actually buried between my legs. Remarkably, his fingers were stroking me – and he wasn’t even awake.

  At that point I gave u
p. Partly because I was enjoying the feel of him behind me, so big and close. Partly because the touch of his fingers sliding lazily back and forth was so bloody fantastic – sexy as hell, but also strangely comforting. Partly because I thought one more attempt to ease free might actually result in his fingers slipping right inside me – and it was disturbing how much I wanted the … the claim of that.

  Because it did feel like he was claiming me. Or at least, his body was claiming mine.

  I wondered if he slept this way with all those other women he’d had sex with. Wrapped around them. Keeping them cocooned. Keeping them safe.

  Ah, Chloe …

  Ah, Amanda. Ah, Sheila. Ah, Constance, Beth, Samantha, Jess, Ruby …

  I was surprised to find my fists clenching at that idea. I didn’t like it. Did not like it one bit. And the fact that I didn’t like it? Well, I liked that even less.

  The whole situation was out of control. I should be running for the exit. Not snuggling back, closer to Nick, running my fingers along the arm that was holding me.

  Tomorrow.

  I’d get it all back under control tomorrow.

  Ah, Chloe …

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I woke to Nick kissing the back of my neck.

  For one delicious moment, I relaxed against him, my whole body sighing, luxuriating in his closeness.

  And then I remembered that Ah, Chloe, and stiffened. It was ‘tomorrow’. Time to get back under control. ‘You shouldn’t be doing that,’ I said.

  He kissed my neck again. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Because it’s not what we’re about.’ I waited for what he would say, holding my breath. I felt him tense, but he didn’t release me. ‘What are we about, Chloe?’

  ‘You know what,’ I said. ‘Sex, for seven more days. Just … sex.’ Pause. ‘Right?’

  I felt the stillness that came into him. Felt his chest expand as he finally took in a breath. His breath against my neck on the hard exhale. And then, ‘Okay, just sex, coming right up,’ he said – and before I could count another heartbeat, he’d sheathed himself inside me from behind.

  ‘So can I kiss you now, Chloe, since we’re having sex?’ And he moved my hair, bent my head forward, and first kissed, then sucked, the back of my neck. Suck, suck, suck, in time with his slow, voluptuous thrusts. He lifted my leg, pulled it back over his thigh, which made the fit of us even tighter than normal, as well as opening me for his fingers, which went inexorably to the spot, rubbing and pinching.

  ‘Say my name,’ he said, low and fierce in my ear.

  ‘Nick.’ Panting. ‘Nick.’ And this time, the orgasm crept up on me, sighed out of me, on a long, sweet, ‘Ohhhh.’

  His choppy breaths told me he was close, so I tightened around him, urging him wordlessly on. I wanted to feel the power of being the cause, the reason, the one to do this to him. Needing to touch him, I reached my hands up and back to hold the back of his head, arching my back so he could slip more deeply in to me. I heard that hitch in his breath. Recognised it. Smiled. He was on the verge, about to come. Mine … he was mine … just for this moment …

  And then a groan, his arms tightening enough to hurt. Freeze. Breath, breath, desperate breath. And then, ‘Fuck this. Fuck it.’ And pulled out of me every bit as suddenly as he’d thrust into me.

  Huh? I rolled to face him, reaching spontaneously for him.

  But he’d thrown himself off the bed and was racing to the bathroom, a string of curses hanging in the air behind him.

  What the …? I scrambled off the bed and followed him into the bathroom. He was leaning a forearm against the wall as he hunched over the toilet. ‘Nick?’

  He had to have heard me, but he didn’t turn. I could see his arm working. One, two, three – and then he groaned, then cursed again, low and fluent.

  I just stood there, stunned.

  ‘Control, Chloe,’ he said, and looked at me, darkly unhappy. ‘I wasn’t wearing a condom. You didn’t even notice.’

  ‘But I could have –’

  ‘What?’ he said, cutting me off. ‘Given me a hand job? I can do that for myself – as you see.’

  He went back into the bedroom, me trailing after him, and looked around for his jeans. As he swooped on them and yanked them on, I reached for my robe, slipped into it and belted it extra tight. For the first time since I’d let Nick into my room last night, I thought about how I looked. Longed for a hairbrush, lip gloss, mascara.

  Not that Nick was looking at me. He was reaching for his T-shirt, which had landed on top of my open laptop.

  And then he stopped. With his T-shirt in one hand, he looked at the computer screen, which had jumped to life. He leaned down so he was closer, eyes narrowing, hardening.

  My heart frog-jumped into my throat and stuck there. I knew what he was seeing.

  Images for Bryce Haynes

  Bryce Haynes – Twitter

  Bryce Haynes – Do-It-Right team

  Bryce Haynes – LinkedIn

  Bryce Haynes – Australian & International Pilots Association

  He looked at me, T-shirt still clutched in his hand. ‘What’s that about?’

  Big, nervous swallow. ‘Just … research.’

  ‘For the story?’

  I wanted to say ‘yes’ but I couldn’t force the lie out.

  ‘Not for the story,’ he said, deciphering my silence. ‘Well, Chloe, if you’ve got questions, I’ve got answers, so come on. Ask.’

  ‘I – I don’t. Have questions, I mean.’

  ‘No? Don’t want to know how old he is? Twenty-nine, is the answer. Four whole years older than me. Is that a better fit for you?’

  ‘That’s not –’

  ‘Single? Yes. Never been married. Recent break up after a long-term relationship, just like you, so you’ll have lots to talk about. But he’s looking for love, not a short-term sex deal, so you’ll need to think about whether you can go there. Oh, wait! You can go there, with him, can’t you? Because he doesn’t know Marcus, you won’t have to explain him to Marcus, and you won’t feel like a groupie trading players, so that makes it okay.’

  ‘I don’t –’

  ‘Height – five feet eleven inches. Four manageable inches shorter than me.’

  ‘Look, I –’

  ‘Salary – not as good as mine. But not shabby. And of course, it will climb when he makes Captain, whereas my career has a short lifespan.’

  ‘I don’t care about money.’

  ‘Sure you do,’ Nick sneered. ‘I’ll bet it’s on a checklist somewhere.’ That seemed to strike him as funny, because he laughed. ‘No wonder you were defending Ruby that night.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘Ruby’s guide has a name – the WAG guide. What’s yours called?’

  ‘I don’t have –’

  ‘I’ll bet it’s full of little boxes to tick. Looks, personality traits, job. Controllability. Bryce ticks a lot of those boxes. Nice and friendly and steady and respectable. Not dissimilar to Marcus in temperament. Fine, upstanding, responsible, charity-minded. The kind of guy anyone would choose.’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about Marcus.’

  ‘Of course you don’t, because then you might have to face the fact that you had everything you wanted in him, but you kissed me. You kissed me the way I always knew you would, like I was the one you’d been waiting for.’ He took a breath, keeping his eyes on me. ‘Or maybe it was just that after a year of having your perfect man in your bed, you needed a little excitement. And now, having been well and truly fucked by yours truly you can – Whoa!’ As he caught my swinging hand.

  ‘Animal,’ I spat.

  ‘I’m going to have to buy you a thesaurus. A little variation wouldn’t go astray. Beast, pig, bastard.’

  ‘All of the above.’

  ‘Yes, all of the above.’ He jerked me in, laid my hand flat against his heart and held it there. ‘So the choice should be easy for you.’

  ‘What choice?’ I asked, quai
ling at whatever it was I’d unwittingly unleashed.

  ‘Marcus – if you can get him back, that is – or me?’ Nick jerked his thumb at the computer screen. ‘Or First Officer Haynes. If it’s Bryce you want, it’s just as well we kept things nice and confidential. He’s not an animalistic bastard pig of a beast like me. He won’t risk losing a friend just to touch a woman. And he certainly won’t risk losing a brother.’

  Another jaw drop. ‘Bryce Haynes is your brother?’

  ‘Give the girl a cigar.’

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Bryce Haynes. Nick Savage.

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘He can’t be your brother. You have different surnames.’

  ‘Ah, well you see, Bryce was the good brother, and got adopted. I was the bad brother, and didn’t.’

  One sudden lurch of my heart as I lowered myself to the edge of the bed. ‘You were orphans?’

  ‘Definitely a cigar for you, clever girl.’

  I sat there, staring at him, trying to make sense of things. Not that there was really anything to make sense of. Nick was an orphan. It was a fact. No deciphering, no interpreting, required. Nick was an orphan. ‘Pilot … brother,’ I said – sounding like a moron, but the synapses in my brain weren’t exactly firing. ‘That’s how you knew the pilot talk.’ I raised my eyes. ‘At dinner. Because he’s your brother.’

  ‘I know the pilot talk because I was going to be one.’

  Staring. It was all I could do.

  ‘Somehow I don’t think it’s a compliment that you’re surprised,’ he said dryly. ‘What’s the matter, Chloe? Don’t you think I’m smart enough? According to my aptitude test, I am. I just wasn’t rich enough back then. You see, while Bryce’s parents were paying for his training, I was washing planes out at a little dump of an aerodrome to earn the money for my lessons.’

  ‘So you’re really a pilot?’

  ‘No. Sadly, there just weren’t enough planes to wash.’