Be strong!
“O'Donovan,” she said again, her voice faltering. “Let me go. Please,” she whispered, the last word pleading.
“Fuck,” he said, releasing her abruptly and she scooted off of him. She pushed herself to standing, her knees feeling weak. He dropped his hand to his erection, and began fisting himself, his green eyes never leaving hers.
“You are a freak, O'Donovan,” she said, shaking her head, feeling tingly and shaky all over. He laughed, the sound low and harsh and not at all amused, as he jerked himself off.
“I want to fuck,” he growled.
“Yeah, but you don't want to fuck me,” she said.
“I do. Believe me,” he said, his voice pained. He stroked himself, the muscles in his chest and arms tight. She watched him, biting her lip. She was just as horny. It would be so easy to give in. But she had a feeling the second she climaxed, she'd fall in love with him. That was exactly what she didn't want. Loving Sebastian O'Donovan was the worst mistake she could make. She was already half-way obsessed with him as it was. And he was an asshole, she reminded herself. An obstinate, stubborn-as-a-mule, dyed-in-the-wool jerk.
“I'm leaving,” Toni announced. She never should have come inside in the first place, she knew that now. He slowed his hand.
“Taking a cab?”
“The train.”
“No.” He was off the bed in the blink of an eye, pinning her against the bedroom wall. “Sorry. I can't let you go. If you got mugged or raped something, that shit would be on me.” Her eyes dropped to his erect member, pressed against her thigh, and she bit her lip. He slid his nose in between her neck and her shoulder and breathed deep. A shudder of lust ran through her and she pressed her palms to his bare chest.
“Thanks for the concern. But I'll be fine.”
“I'll drive you home,” he mumbled, his lips dangerously close to the sensitive skin of her neck.
“You're drunk,” she murmured, his stubble tickling her.
“Tomorrow morning,” he breathed. She felt her entire body clench when she felt his tongue dart out and taste her. He trailed his mouth down the curve of her neck and she suppressed a moan. She felt her eyes closing and her hands drifting down his chest. His hard body was impossible to not explore. His chest alone was a work of art. She traced the ridges of his abs as he sucked her skin between his teeth. She gasped, raising her chin so he could have more access to her. His hips rolled against hers, insistent, and she dropped her hands to his dick, without thinking. She didn't want to over-think it. She just wanted to feel. She ran her fingertips up the soft skin of his impressive erection. She felt him tremble against her and a thrill of power ran through her. More confident, she took him in her hand and stroked him, slowly. He moaned and pumped his hips toward her. She quickened her pace.
“Does that feel good?” she murmured.
“Fuck, lovely,” he said, then flicked his tongue against her lips. “You feel so good.” His arm snaked around her waist and his hand gripped her ass. She opened her mouth to him, kissing him the way she did all those years ago in the hospital—hungry and needy. He gave as good as he got, moving against her like he was drowning in lust. She wasn't too far from that herself. She could hardly believe what she was doing.
But she didn't stop. She wasn't going to stop until she felt him explode. He thrust his hips against her, like he was pretending he was sliding deep inside of her. His hand tugged at her jeans, but she smacked his hand away. No you don't, big boy. She knew if those long, calloused fingers came anywhere near her most sensitive spot, she'd be lost. So she kissed him instead, distracting him with her tongue as she pumped her hand against him faster and faster, his pre-come moistening her palm. But he didn't let her distract him. He shoved his hand between her legs, working her body through her jeans. She shivered against him, not able to resist grinding her body against his unyielding hand.
With a pained moan, he pulled away from the kiss and jerked backwards. His warm release spurted into her hand. He called out, muffling his mouth against her neck. She continued to stroke him, milking him of every last drop. Finally, he came up for air and dropped his forehead onto her shoulder. “Goddammit, Toni,” he breathed. “You are too much.” She could only smile weakly and take a deep breath. Her whole body was throbbing, but no release had come for her. Of course.
Then O'Donovan, jerk that he was, stumbled back toward the bed. He flopped down on his stomach, closed his eyes, and promptly passed out.
Chapter 8
O'Donovan woke the next morning with a raging headache and a raging hard-on. He sat up in the center of the bed and his back cried out at the movement. He sat still for a moment, waiting for the pain to ebb. He realized he was naked, the sheet tangled around his midsection. He tried to recall the night before. He remembered Toni bringing him a peach pie at the bar. He remembered little bits and pieces, but that was about it. He ran a hand through the thick stubble on his face. Jesus. He had to stop drinking like he was still in his twenties.
Standing slowly, his back screaming in protest, he headed for the bathroom and took a piss. He glanced at himself in the mirror and grimaced. He looked like shit. He chomped down a few aspirin and stumbled out into the living room.
“Motherfucker,” he mumbled to himself, stopping cold. Toni was asleep on the couch, her slender leg draped over the arm and an arm tossed above her head. A triangle of soft skin was visible where her shirt rode up. Shit. Why couldn't he get rid of this girl? She was haunting him. Grumbling to himself, he returned to the bedroom and carefully pulled on a pair of jeans. Then he headed to the kitchen.
He banged the cast-iron skillet hard on the stove, hoping to wake her with the noise. He glanced out into the living room. She was still asleep. He got the eggs out of the fridge and slammed the door shut. Still asleep. She slept through scrambling the eggs and frying up the bangers. She slept through the juicer making fresh orange juice. She only woke up when the coffee started brewing. She sat up and stretched, her long limbs graceful. He rolled his eyes at her beauty. Of course, she looked beautiful in the morning. All the better to torture him with.
Toni strolled into the kitchen like she owned it, running her hands through her hair. “You cook?” she said, her eyes heavy-lidded and dark-lashed. He felt his hard-on returning as he suddenly got a vision of her body pressed against his. He could feel her mouth against his, and her curves under his hands. What happened last night? Shaking his head clear, he pointed at the kitchen table with the spatula.
“Sit,” he said. “I'll fix you a plate.”
“Oh. I can't eat that,” she said, eyes wide. “Do you have any fruit?”
“It's rude to refuse a meal from your host,” he said. “Since you're my guest, apparently.” Toni narrowed her eyes at him.
“Only because you insisted I stay the night.”
“I insisted?”
“You said you would drive me home this morning.”
“I think you were dreaming, lovely,” he said, dishing up the bangers and eggs. She stuck out her perfect tongue at him and plopped her perfect ass on the kitchen chair.
“So you don't remember last night?” she asked as he set the plate in front of her on the table. He froze.
“Don't tell me we fucked?”
“God. No.” She furrowed her brow.
“Jesus Christ, woman.” He shook his head and turned back to the stove. He would hope to hell he would remember fucking Antoinette St. James. Otherwise, he would have to swear off the booze forever.
“You were drunk as a skunk and I had to help you home. Then you stripped butt-naked right in front of me.”
“Shit. That's nothing.” He shook his head, smiling in relief. “I once walked over the Queensboro bridge completely naked. I was right good and hammered that time.” He turned and handed her a fork and knife.
“I'm glad you're so comfortable in your own skin.” She glanced up at him, eyes glinting mischievously as she took the utensils. “But not everybody wants t
o see your little dick flapping around.” O'Donovan threw back his head and laughed. He might be a lot of things, but small-dicked was not one of them.
“You obviously didn't get a good look then, lovely.” He grabbed his own plate off the counter and straddled the chair next to her.
“I'm sure we can arrange another showing,” she said, her lips fighting a smile. She was lying. She'd liked what she'd seen. Again, he got an instant ego boost. She was good at stroking men's egos, that was for sure. “You're in a good mood this morning,” she said after a moment, taking a tiny bite of scrambled eggs. He shrugged. He wanted to be angry and grouchy and scare her away. But it was hard. Fixing her breakfast had re-ignited a small flame inside him. He liked having someone to wake up to.
If he had woken up alone, he probably would have had a cup of coffee and a bagel and sat in front of the TV. But for her, he'd made a fucking feast. The thought sent a tremor of unease through him. Toni was a problem. She was just the type that ruined men like him. Unfortunately, he knew that firsthand. He ran through the mantra again in his head—he wanted a woman just like him. Happy to settle down. Not flashy. Not a distracting beauty. Not Antoinette St. James.
Toni let out a moan of pleasure at the taste of the food and his cock was suddenly at full attention. “What did you put in these? Crack?” she asked, leaning in for another bite.
“I was out of milk, so I used half and half in the eggs. And I used bacon grease in the pan.” He grinned as her eyes got as wide as saucers.
“You're going to give me a heart attack!” she exclaimed, but he noticed she didn't drop her fork. “You don't eat like this everyday do you?” she said, her luscious lips wrapping around a piece of sausage.
“Every morning,” he said, lying to get a reaction. She screwed up her face like she was going to lecture him about nutrition, but she was too busy chewing. He realized his food was getting cold because he was too busy watching her eat. He dropped his eyes and shoveled some food into him. She was right, it did taste good. It was the way his mother used to make breakfast. The only thing missing was the black and white pudding. But his fridge was practically empty, and he definitely didn't have the ingredients. If he did, he definitely would have whipped up the blood and beef liver concoction, just to see her reaction.
She swallowed and stood.“How do you take your coffee?” she said.
“Don't worry about it,” he said. She waved him off.
“Let me guess.” She rooted around in the cabinets. He watched her move around his kitchen, avoiding the urge to tell her where things were. He wanted to watch her figure it out for herself. “Half and half. Two sugars?” She asked, finding the mugs. She glanced back at him over her shoulder. “You want some bacon grease in there, too? Just for good measure?”
“Just half and half, smart-ass,” he said, feeling his hunger dissipate. He ran his eyes from her slim ankles to her shapely ass to the sharp angles of her shoulder-blades. A flash came to him—kissing Toni, his hand on that luscious ass. Her breasts pressed against his chest. She wasn't telling him everything that happened the night before. She smiled back at him, moving around the kitchen now with confidence. She grabbed a spoon from the drawer next to the stove and stirred in his half and half. She set the steaming mug on the table in front of him and he grabbed her arm.
“How big of an asshole was I last night?” he asked.
“Pretty big.” She made no move to pull away. “But I figured it was just your personality.”
“I'm serious,” he said, watching her eyes to gauge her reaction.
“I'm still here. So you must not have been too bad,” she said, reaching her free hand up and running it through his hair. He felt himself leaning into her touch, despite his better judgment. “I just wanted to make sure you got home okay,” she said. “But then I might have given you a hand job.”
“What?” He craned his neck to stare up at her.
“You were just so damned insistent. I figured it would shut you up.” Her fingers kept working against his scalp, the intimacy of the gesture not lost on him.
“Christ. What did I say?”
“You wanted to eat my pussy,” she said, matter-of-factly. He swallowed as his cock responded vigorously to her words. He felt like the zipper on his jeans was about to pop wide open. “But I said no. You were drunk and I wasn't going to take advantage of you. I'm so damn honorable it's disgusting,” she continued, and he stared up at her, an interesting mixture of shame, arousal, and amusement swirling through him. She finally dropped her eyes to catch his. “It was tempting, though,” she said, amusement and something else dancing behind her eyes.
He gritted his teeth. Hell yes, it was tempting. His breakfast was forgotten. All he wanted was to eat her. He rolled his tongue over his lips, wondering for the millionth time what she would taste like. She dropped her hand to his bare shoulder and he felt a muscle in his back jerk painfully at her touch. Sparks of arousal were firing off under his skin. He needed to get Toni out of his apartment and out of his life. As soon as possible.
“I like your freckles,” she said, running a finger over his shoulder. “They're cute.”
“Toni,” he said, and he could hear the strain in his voice. She slid her hand free of his hold and moved to stand behind him. “What are you doing?”
“Where does your back hurt?” She dropped her warm fingers to his shoulders and began to knead the taut muscles.
“It doesn't hurt,” he gritted out through clenched teeth.
“You're lying like a rug,” she murmured, her fingers working magic on his back. “What did you do to it?”
“Slipped disk.” He bit down hard on his lip as she hit a particularly good spot.
“You carry a lot of tension in your shoulders,” she said, pressing her palm into a stubborn muscle. He dropped his chin to his chest, feeling all of that tension leaving his shoulders and heading southward. His fingers clenched on his thighs, his body throbbing with arousal. He was going to have to throw her over the table and fuck her, he realized. That was the only way he was going to not go crazy. He wanted to bury himself inside her, lose himself in her, make her scream...
“That's enough, Toni,” he heard himself saying, harshly.
“What? I can't touch you?” she dropped her hands and he felt his body scream at the loss of her warmth. She sauntered back around the table and sat back down at her plate, drawing her knee up to her chest. “I think it's a little late for all that.” She lifted another forkful of eggs to her lips.
Shaking his head to clear it, he leaned over his plate and began inhaling the food, wanting breakfast to be over. Why had he made her breakfast again? He should have just sent her packing. Then he wouldn't be having the thoughts he was having. The dirty, dirty thoughts. But who was he kidding? He'd be having dirty thoughts about Antoinette no matter what. He had to fuck someone, and soon, to take the edge off. He was horny, straight up, and she was just the nearest female body. At least, that was the lie he was trying to feed himself.
“I think you like me,” she said, and he realized she was watching him over the rim of her coffee cup.
“Nope. Not at all,” he said, hoping he looked convincing. She narrowed her eyes at him again, but said nothing. Then, her eyes widened and she took in a sharp breath.
“What time is it?”
He glanced at the clock on the stove. “8:20.”
“Crap!” She stood abruptly. “I have rehearsal at 9:00. I have to go.” She turned toward the living room, then turned back, lifting the coffee cup to her lips and draining it. “Good coffee,” she said. Then she jogged to the living room and gathered up her sweater and her purse.
“I'm sorry to eat and run,” she called out. “It was delicious, really,” she said, looking back into the kitchen. Her forehead crinkled and she bit her lip, like she was worried she was being impolite. She looked so damn cute that he couldn't help himself.
“I promised you a ride. I'll drive you.” As soon as the words left his lip
s, he wanted to smack himself upside the head. Her starry-eyes lit up beautifully and she nodded.
Shit.
***
Toni tried hard not to smile. She tried really hard not to. She didn't want to seem too happy. But she couldn't help it. As they crossed the Queensboro bridge in his big old truck, she kept sneaking little looks at him. He had pulled on yet another ratty T-shirt, and she wondered how many of those he had. He ran his hand over his face, staring straight ahead at the road. He was being so nice to her. She'd cracked through his hard candy shell and now all that was left to do was take a big bite out of his warm gooey center. She suppressed a giddy giggle. He definitely liked her. Maybe.
Who knew the peach pie defense would work?
Toni leaned forward and turned on the radio. A headbanging hard rock song filled her ears and she stuck out her tongue. Yuck. She made a move to change the channel and he grabbed her hand.
“Don't change the station.”
“Are you serious? It's too early!” Toni yelled, over the music.
“It's never too early for Sabbath,” he said so seriously that Toni couldn't help but laugh. She settled back in the seat and began banging her head along to beat, drumming her hand on her thigh.
He gave her the side-eye and shook his head. But she saw the slight smile on his lips as he turned his face to the window.
Kiss of Fire (St. James Family) Page 7
