“What?” This version of Trace was not something I knew how to deal with. I could handle cocky, joking Trace. But vulnerable, honest, begging Trace? I was powerless.
“I don’t know either,” he said, approaching me. “I lost count a long time ago.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, and I clutched the blanket tighter around me. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” He slowly lifted his hand, giving me a chance to push him away. When I didn’t, his fingers lightly touched my bare shoulder and gently stroked the skin there, his thumb catching in the thin strap of my tank. “Please don’t make me leave. Let me make you say my name like that again.”
I lifted my eyes to his and the look he gave me was so intense I wanted to look away. To find a way to laugh this off, like we always did. That was the only way I could deal with my embarrassment and his odd sweetness.
“My work here is done.” I forced myself to swallow and shrugged. “I’m a one orgasm kind of gal.”
His smile started in his eyes before it reached his mouth. “Bullshit, Cricket.” His voice was low and in control. “I remember the night of your birthday. This body was made for multiples.” His thumb hooked in the strap of my tank and then he was suddenly hovering over me, his arms caging me in as he held my gaze, challenging me to argue with him. He lifted a hand to take off my glasses and set them on the nightstand. Then he gripped the edge of the blanket and slowly started to pull it away from my chest. “You know I’ll stop if you tell me to. But please don’t tell me to.”
I took a deep breath in, but when I stayed silent, he dropped his head to scatter warm, wet kisses all along my collarbone. I shivered as his mouth trailed along my bare shoulder, making its way to the sensitive curve of my neck. My head fell back into the pillows, my eyes closing as I felt my body arch up into him. Seeking him. Craving him. Surrendering to him.
Like I’d ever had any other choice.
He continued to kiss my skin, working his way toward my lips, as his fingers carefully pulled the blanket aside. Just like the night of my birthday when I saw my mom, I felt like pieces of my armor were being peeled away to reveal all the fragile parts of me that I kept hidden underneath. Only with my mom, those parts were broken and damaged, raw from the pain of her abandonment. With Trace, every part of me he exposed was hopeful, almost delirious with the way he handled me so carefully. Deep down, underneath all of my arguments and careful plans, my heart was such a tender thing, and I could feel him stripping away all my layers.
He kissed me with a gentleness that revealed just how much he understood what I needed from him. I was surprised to find that even though getting close to Trace frightened me, I trusted him.
But then again, the question was never whether he could be trusted. I was the one who couldn’t be trusted. I was the one with big plans and no room for a relationship in my life. And yet, as he continued to unravel me, I couldn’t stop myself from opening up to him and letting him truly see me, broken parts and all.
His lips left mine, continuing a path across my jaw and down my throat. When he reached my collarbone again, my hands went to his head. My fingers slipped into his messy hair, my nails delicately dragging along his scalp. He groaned in the back of his throat, but didn’t look up at me. He had the blanket down to my waist, his hands framing my sides as his lips explored the skin above the edge of my tank. His fingers curled into the fabric of my top and pulled it down, the straps falling along my arms, trapping them to my sides, as the neckline sunk below my breasts. Trace pressed a kiss over my heart which was beating wildly under the heat of his mouth. His tongue dragged across the swell of my breast and then his mouth closed around my nipple. When he sucked, my chest pressed up into him, my body writhing with need.
“Trace,” I murmured.
Everything about the way he was touching me was slow and measured. Not at all like our night in Vegas. That had been wild and frantic, like we knew it was our only chance and we had to make the most of it. It was different this time. Despite the way Trace had stood in my doorway, begging me to let him in, he was in control now. And he was taking his time.
His mouth continued to work against my nipple, and when he had the blanket pulled completely away, his hand pressed my knees apart. He settled his weight between my legs and when I felt the heat of him against me, my hands left his hair and clutched at the back pockets of his jeans to pull him closer. He dipped his hips into mine once, and when I started to wrap my legs around him to keep him close, he chuckled and pulled out of my grip to kiss his way down the rest of my body. His deft fingers pulled the tank away from my stomach so he could kiss the skin underneath, but he didn’t stay there long.
When he reached my thong and started to pull it down my legs, I felt a flash of panic at remembering Buzz and exactly how Trace had found me. I started to sit up, but he quickly had his lips on mine, kissing me backward until my head hit the pillow again. With one last kiss to keep me in place, his fingers were back at the waistband of my thong, pulling it down my legs and making quick work of the tiny piece of fabric before tossing it to the side. His hands were gentle as he pushed my legs wider, and when he reached between us to touch me, I forgot why I’d been embarrassed in the first place, because holy shit…this was way better than doing it myself.
Trace’s fingers slipped inside me, and soon my hips were out of my control, rising to meet the rhythm of his fingers as they stroked inside me. When he pulled his hand away, I made a sound of protest until I felt the familiar press of my toy against my slick flesh. He pushed it slowly until it was in all the way, causing me to suck in a deep breath. Then he pulled it out just as slowly, chuckling when my body rocked into the motion of the deep push and drag. I should have been ashamed at his laughter, but on the next plunge of Buzz, Trace’s tongue was there too, licking and sucking and…holy hell! He had to put his hand on my waist to keep me from flying off the mattress it was… So. Fucking. Good.
“I know,” he mumbled against me, his voice vibrating along all my slick parts, causing my hips to jerk against his mouth. “So. Fucking. Good,” he said, and I wondered if I’d said those words out loud or if we were just thinking the same thing. He flipped on the switch to Buzz and then flicked his tongue across me in a way that I was sure was going to make me see through walls. My hips were moving, Buzz was plunging, Trace’s tongue was doing things that could only be described as magic, and I could feel the mother of all orgasms inching through my body, gathering waves of pleasure like a rising tsunami.
And then it was gone.
My eyes flew open, and I glared down the length of my body to see Trace smiling up at me. Buzz was gone, his fingers were gone, and his tongue was now annoyingly tucked behind that satisfied grin of his. “What the hell?” I whined, the promise of my orgasm fading away in dull pulses.
“Buzz has had way too much fun already.” Trace smirked as he tossed the toy to the side. “Do you want me to give you what you need?”
“I was almost there,” I said through gritted teeth.
“Cricket,” he said, crawling up my body, pressing his hardness between my legs until my eyes fell closed again. “Do you want me?” He dropped his mouth to mine again, his lips soft and wet, his tongue sliding against mine. Even in the confident words he spoke, I could hear the uncertainty, the need for me to tell him what I wanted, and for it to be him.
“You know I do,” I whispered against his mouth. My hands were at his waistband, fingers working furiously against the button and zipper. “Condoms are in the nightstand,” I said.
He leaned up to reach into the drawer, and I took the opportunity to push his jeans and boxers down as far as I could, which was only to his knees. That would have to be good enough.
Once he had what he needed, he pushed up to kneel, and put on the condom. His hands were quick and sure, and when he looked at me, I could tell that the time for slow and steady was long gone. The look he gave me promised something wild and unrestrained, and that’s exactly what I wanted.
Trace didn’t even bother to push his jeans off the rest of the way. He leaned down over me, his lips barely an inch from mine. “Tell me you want this as much as I do.” I could feel the strain in his body as he hovered over top of me.
“I swear to God if you don’t finish what you started, I’m going to tell Darryl and his buddies where you live.”
His voice was rough as he touched his lips to mine. “You don’t even know where I live, Cricket.” He dipped his hips just low enough that the tip of him slid against my center. I rolled my hips into him trying to pull him deeper inside.
“Please,” I begged.
“Well. Since you asked so nicely.” His mouth descended on mine at the same moment he plunged into me. I moaned as he kissed me, almost devouring me, and then his hips were moving, thrusting deep. Over and over again.
I wanted to tell him he was a dick for teasing me, for making me beg, but he felt so damn good I found I didn’t care. His muscles flexed deliciously as he pounded into me and I had a hard time deciding where I wanted to hold—his biceps, his back, his perfect ass.
“I want on top,” I demanded.
I expected him to make a joke, to force me to beg for what I wanted, but he merely flipped us so we never lost contact. He was propped up against my pillows, and I was straddling his hips with him still buried deep inside.
“As you wish,” he growled, running his hands up my sides and across my chest which was hanging out the top of my tank.
I leaned forward until my hands were on his shoulders and his were cupping my breasts. Pushing up on my knees and then dropping back down, I started to ride him. His hips kept pace with mine, thrusting up to meet each plunge of mine.
“Best idea yet, Cricket. Your tits look fantastic like this.” With each move of my body, they bounced against his hands while his thumbs stroked my nipples.
Grinding my hips into his, I felt the base of him rub against my clit, and that was exactly what I needed, so I did it again. Trace’s hands left my chest to settle on my waist, holding me down to him as I felt the orgasm tsunami gathering strength again. He sat up, and I could feel every hard ridge of his body against and inside me. It was all smooth, slick skin and pounding heartbeats and I couldn’t catch my breath.
“You feel so good, Harlow.” One of his hands gripped my ass, the other was buried in my hair.
At the sound of my name, which he never used, pleasure crashed over me and I shuddered, continuing to rock into him.
“Trace,” I groaned.
His hand fisted in my hair, pulling my head back as his teeth grazed my neck, his hips jerking up into me. “Fuck,” he murmured against me, pushing up one last time.
He held me close as our breathing settled. The position was so intimate, with me in his lap and us face-to-face, that I could feel unease working its way up my spine. He chuckled against my skin and then flipped us so I was on my back again and he was lying next to me. His finger skimmed along my shoulder and then dipped between my breasts before it circled my left breast in a leisurely path. For some reason, the soft touch seemed to calm my panic, and I relaxed.
“See? There’s no reason to freak out, Cricket,” he said softly.
“I wasn’t—“
His finger was against my lips. When I cut my eyes over to him, he was grinning. He didn’t need to tell me I was lying. We both knew it. He reached across me to grab the blanket and then pulled it over me. He sat on the edge of the bed, taking care of the condom before pulling up his boxers and kicking his pants to the side. He looked over his shoulder. “I’m going to the bathroom. You better be here when I get back.”
As he stood up, I stared at the bandage on his back where he’d gotten shot earlier in the day. “You can stay over,” I said, my voice unsure, almost a question. And I couldn’t figure out if I was offering for him to stay, or asking.
He turned and grinned at me. “Were you really going to kick me out at,” he glanced at the clock, “2:13 in the morning?”
Smug bastard. He knew I wouldn’t. “Don’t expect me to share the blankets,” I countered, desperate to regain some of my control. Which was a ridiculous notion. Clearly, I had no control when it came to Trace. I lay in awkward silence as I waited for him, unsure of how I should act. I’d never slept with a guy before. Sure, I’d had sex, but I’d never actually slept in a bed next to a guy all night long. I had butterflies, and not the good kind.
A few minutes later, Trace came back into the room. He shut the door and then turned off the light. I could hear the fall of his footsteps as he neared the bed.
“Cricket?” I couldn’t see him in the darkness, but his voice was close.
“Yeah?”
“If you’re uncomfortable, I’ll go home. Whatever you want.”
My throat was tight like someone had a fist around it and I wasn’t quite sure what I was afraid of. Maybe it was the possibility that he wouldn’t want to stay. Or that he’d stay, but not be there in the morning when I woke up. Or that he would be there. Geez! I was such a whack job!
“Stay,” I finally managed. “Please.”
Without another word, I felt the blanket lift. Then the warmth of Trace was behind me, and he was pulling me against his chest, molding my body to his.
“Stop overthinking it, Cricket. Just go to sleep.” His breath was warm against the back of my neck, and his arms were a protective cage around me.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “M’kay.”
***
When I woke up the next morning, Trace wasn’t there. I felt my heart leap awkwardly in my chest and then I saw the piece of paper laying on the pillow, Buzz holding it down like a paperweight. I lifted the paper up and narrowed my eyes to try to make the blurry words focus.
It was a note and a list.
Cricket,
I had to get in a workout early since I’m taking you on a date today. Don’t even think of bailing, this is part of your research for your article. Since I know you like lists, here are some things to get done while I’m gone.
1. Toss out Buzz since you won’t be needing him anymore
2. Eat breakfast, you’re gonna need your strength
3. Wear something comfortable, preferably something I can remove easily if the mood strikes
4. Be ready by 10:00
5. When I come to pick you up, feel free to praise me for the best orgasm of your life
6. Fall in love with Trace
I rolled my eyes and tossed the note to the bed. It fluttered in the air, turning over until it was laying face down. On the back was written:
Don’t roll your eyes.
P.S. You looked so fuckable this morning.
P.S.S. I stole a kiss before I left. I hope you don’t mind.
I reached up to touch my lips, and as I headed for my bathroom, I could feel the smile behind my fingertips.
— TRACE —
16. THE GREEN-EYED MONSTER
October 9, 2016
VEGAS WILL MISS THE STONES AND THEIR DUELING CELLOS By Hot Vegas Nights
Austin and Dallas Stone, the winners of the seventh season of Rising Stars, have just announced that the last performance of their show, Dueling Cellos, will take place on New Year’s Eve at the Mirage. Rumors have been running rampant that the decision to end this popular, sell-out show is due to Dallas Stone’s health, but no confirmation has been made by the duo themselves.
“I’m heartbroken,” Cassidy Wells, a cast member, said. “We all love working with Austin and Dallas. It’s the best gig I’ve ever had.”
When asked whether she could confirm that Dallas’ health issues were the cause for the show going on hiatus, Cassidy said, “Dallas is such a sweet guy, but he’s quiet. He doesn’t hang out with the rest of the cast much. In fact, he doesn’t come to rehearsals much at all anymore.”
Austin and Dallas Stone, who are famous in their own right, aren’t the only famous Stones. Their cousin, American snowboarder Trace Stone, was recently in to
wn over the summer for ShredCon. Trace has been known to attend the Dueling Cellos show when in Vegas and speculation is high that even though his competitive season begins in December, there is a good chance he’ll be in attendance with the rest of the Stone family for the last Dueling Cellos show.
=========================
Leaving Harlow in bed this morning wasn’t easy, but if I wanted to spend the rest of the day with her, I needed to get a workout in beforehand. My first race was still two months away, but that didn’t feel like nearly long enough. My muscles might be stronger and my agility and reaction time were both back on track, but that couldn’t make up for the fact that I hadn’t been on actual snow since the accident last winter. I needed to keep working hard so that when I finally did get on the snow, everything would come naturally.
This morning was a weightlifting day. I fucking hated lifting weights. It made me feel like a brainless Neanderthal. I just wanted to be on the move, hurtling down the side of the mountain, the wind in my face, danger nipping at my heels. But that wasn’t in the cards today. The leaves on the trees had barely changed colors, Maryland probably wouldn’t see its first snow for weeks.
Luckily, my apartment complex had a gym onsite, and most of the students who lived in my building didn’t use it. The gym on campus had a lot more to offer, so that’s where most people went, but it was often overcrowded. Since I was still trying to keep a low profile, I avoided the on-campus gym like the plague. The other great thing about the gym in my complex was that I usually had the whole place to myself which helped me get in a quick and dirty workout this morning.
I pushed through the glass door, leaving the empty room behind me, and headed for the elevator. When my phone rang, I half expected it to be Harlow scolding me for leaving her alone in bed with nothing but a set of instructions on her pillow. The thought of what her expression must have been when she saw my note made me chuckle. I imagine she’d felt conflicted. She hated being bossed around, but she also couldn’t resist lists.
Hitched (Hearts of Stone Book 2) Page 16
