This sucked.
Why in the world had she thought she could have sex and be fine walking away? She wasn’t that kind of a girl, no matter what people said about her. And now—karma was biting her in the ass. She wanted the man she had, and she couldn’t tell him without losing him.
17.
D
eclan stumbled over the stoop. Rashae tugged his head down for another scorching kiss that left him light headed. The door slammed back against the entry bench. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her to him and shoved the door shut.
He’d thought the quietly simmering heat was just him, the way she made him feel. Now he knew she felt it, too. He pushed her up against the door, the blinds crinkling at the press of their bodies.
She cupped his face with both hands, tugging on strands of his hair. He slid his palms down her sides, remembering the feel of her body under the puffy jacket.
“Declan...”
“What?”
“I need...I need...”
He kissed her neck, nuzzling between her and the stripped scarf. He tasted her skin with his tongue, searching for—
“Oh!” She tipped her chin up and her head to the side. “How...?”
“Podcast. Late night, unplugged something, live from—”
“Calgary.” She giggled.
“I told you. Fanboy.”
He’d listened to the podcast months ago when the female host asked the round of guests about the sexiest places to be touched. Rashae’s had seemed tame by comparison, until he touched the little spot just behind her ear. It was like a trigger, a sensual button with an immediate response.
Her body undulated against his and her hands slid over his shoulders, down his back.
They needed less clothing. But not here. The entry was drafty, cold and the last place they should be dallying around.
Declan walked backward, one arm around her waist. She clawed at the buttons on his pea coat and he unwound the scarf from her neck. Between the entry and the sofa, they shed their coats, scarves and boots without losing contact. The way she clawed at his shirt and kissed his mouth were a real turn on. She wanted him as much as he wanted her.
He nudged her back onto the sofa and she sat down, that familiar, mischievous gleam in her eye.
Rashae wasn’t human. She was fairy made. Magic. Wonder. There wasn’t another like her.
She also wasn’t the only one with ideas.
“Stay right there,” he said.
“Where are you going?”
“Light a fire. It’s damn cold in here, and I want you naked.”
“Can’t argue with that.” Her gaze slid down his body.
The way she was looking at him left no doubt in his mind, she wanted this. Him. Now. Desire like that? It burned hot. Could it last through him coming clean? He wanted it to.
He turned and grabbed a few logs, tossing them into the hearth. He’d started so many fires in this place he could do it sleepwalking. The kindling caught, and he blew on the embers a moment while they spread to the logs.
Soon enough, between the furnace and the fire, they wouldn’t catch a cold.
Declan turned around and stopped short.
Rashae’s clothes lay in a pile and she had the olive-green sofa throw tucked up under her chin, not a bit of skin, save for her, face visible. But she had to be very naked underneath. Unless she was wearing two pairs of panties.
She smiled at him, so deceptively sweet.
He shoved the coffee table aside. At this point, it was only in their way.
For days, they’d been quiet as lambs. Holding the sound of their passion in. Today, he wanted to hear her scream.
He sank to his knees, one hand on either side of her thighs.
“You’re right, it is cold in here.” She grasped the front of his shirt. “You should come warm me up.”
“Careful what you ask for.”
Declan grasped the edge of the blanket and ducked under it. He knew the smell of the sofa, the detergent on the blanket—and her. He slid his palms up her shins, over her knees and between her legs. She squirmed. Because she remembered how last time had gone?
In the span of a few days, he’d learned her body. How the mid-point of her inner thigh was extra sensitive. He pressed his fingers there, and she tensed, drawing her knees further apart until he could fit his body between them.
He tugged her ass closer to the edge of the cushion.
First, he’d make her scream.
Then, he’d do it again.
After that, his strategy got a little fuzzy, but he was pretty sure he was good for a few rounds. He wanted to work himself so deep there was no picking them apart. That his little lie wouldn’t matter.
He gently stroked her mound, finding her by touch. He followed the crease of her thigh, brushing his fingers over her folds.
Rashae shifted, and a bit of light proved she was just as naked as he suspected. Her hands wrapped around his head, digging into his hair. She was hungry. Needy.
He licked her, flicking his tongue over her clit. Just because it wasn’t what worked for her didn’t mean the bundle of nerves should be ignored. He followed with his fingers, pumping deep inside of her.
She tensed, and the first moan ripped out of her. Her legs opened wider and she slid down farther.
Rashae’s grip on his hair tightened, pulling him up against her breasts. She curled one leg around him, her hips shifting in time with his fingers. Her pussy was hot, slick.
“Don’t—stop,” she said between breaths.
“As you wish.”
He’d planned to lick her to orgasm, not finger fuck her. Though this way had its advantages. He wrapped his lips around a tight nipple and sucked. Her back arched and a high, keening wail erupted out of her. Her body rippled around his fingers and her hand fisted in his hair.
Damn.
He pumped deeper, harder, the quivering going on and on until she slumped back against the cushions, panting for breath. He kissed the valley between her breasts, her collar bone and gently pulled out of her.
One scream down.
Declan sat up and the blanket fell off her. The temperature in the cottage was better but she still shivered.
Rashae reclined back, boneless, graceful, a woman well pleasured. One side of her mouth hitched up.
Her lids were heavy; she could almost be asleep. Damn, after yesterday she probably needed both release and sleep, not him. He should leave her alone, back off.
His dick throbbed almost painfully, but he ignored it to the best of his ability. He might not be a saint, but he wasn’t a selfish bastard either. He spread the blanket back over her, gave her cheek a kiss and stood.
“Where are you going?” She pried one eye open, looking up at him with a frown.
“Restroom.”
“Oh, no you aren’t.” Rashae sat up and grabbed his belt.
“Easy.” He winced and gritted his teeth as she wrestled the leather through the catch.
“Poor baby.” The blanket pooled around her hips. The firelight cast a warm glow on her glistening skin.
She wrestled the tab open and carefully—thank God—eased the zipper down. He wouldn’t be surprised if the metal teeth left indentations on him.
“You know what I liked?” She bit her lower lip and pulled the waistband of his underwear lower, following the slide of his jeans down his hips.
“What?” He cupped her cheek.
“I liked that night in your bed the best.”
He could still remember the sight of her, the energy in the air. The way her spine arched, her helpless sounds.
“Is that what you want? Bend you over the sofa? Fuck you from behind?” He swiped his thumb over her lower lip.
She turned her head into his palm, capturing the digit in her mouth. She swirled her tongue around it, eyes closed.
Fuck...
Rashae didn’t know it, but he was hers to do with as she pleased. He’d begun this charade, hiring her, get
ting to know her, to appease his own self interests. And now? He’d damn well do what it took to stay close to her. Be her fuck toy? Fine. Warm her at night? He could do that. Make her scream like a banshee? It was his pleasure.
Her hot little hand pumped his cock and all thought ceased. He pushed his thumb deeper into her mouth. Her cheeks sunk in, the suction tugging on his finger, and her eyes closed as though she were the one enjoying this. He rocked his hips into her hold, enjoying the slow drag of flesh on flesh.
Rashae’s other hand dug into his front pocket, her fingers wiggling around.
He knew what she was looking for, and it wasn’t there.
He pulled his thumb from her mouth and dug into his back pocket. His wallet slid free and she yanked it out of his hand. The foil packet wasn’t hard to locate, tucked between business cards and bits of paper. She plucked it out and tossed the wallet aside. He wanted to snatch it from her hand and get on with it, but there was something even hotter about her doing it.
Rashae bit her lower lip and smiled, as if she were getting away with something. And maybe they were. Her touch wasn’t as sure, as though she hadn’t put a condom on a man very often. He liked that between them, there wasn’t any hesitation, no holding back. If she wasn’t practiced at rubber rolling, that didn’t matter.
She fumbled a bit before getting it on without an issue.
“Take your shirt off,” she said. “I like feeling you.”
He grabbed the hem of his undershirt and tossed both shirts off to the side. She gave him a long, slow look, as though she were committing him to memory.
Rashae turned and knelt on the sofa, one hand on the back, looking up at him as though he were the treat.
Declan bent and kissed her, wrapping his hand around her throat until he could feel her pulse, and flex of her breath. Feel her life beat against his fingers. He didn’t squeeze, simply touched her, making sure she was real. She groaned into his mouth. He wanted to possess her. Keep her. Even if it wasn’t possible, he had her now.
He nudged her around. She grasped the back of the cushions with both hands, hips rising. He pressed a kiss to the dimples above her bottom, because he could and he wanted to, and slid his hands to her hips.
This was what she wanted, it wasn’t just him.
He grasped his cock and squeezed.
The fire crackled and popped.
He pressed into her opening, her skin still slick from orgasm, and slid deep, almost all the way in, without resistance. His vision blurred, and he stopped breathing for a moment. She felt so damn good. Her muscles constricted around him, pulling him deeper still. A pussy had never fit so well as hers.
She leaned down and pushed her hips back, grinding their sexes together. Her moans of pleasure were music to his ears, so right. She should always sound like that, as far as he was concerned.
Rashae rocked forward and then back, fucking herself on his cock.
To think the woman who’d lain on his floor and hadn’t known what an orgasm with a man felt like was now the creature chasing after her own pleasure.
He grasped her hips, guiding her motions. He pulled almost all the way out, until her pussy hugged the very head of his cock. Only then did he push back in, a rough, jarring joining.
“Oh—oh!”
Her voice hit a new note, a high he hadn’t yet heard.
He wanted to hear that one again. It was pretty, with a vibrating falsetto.
Declan pressed against her, working his hips in a circle.
They could chase after another orgasm—or he could prolong her pleasure. See how high he could take her.
Once more, he withdrew and thrust. This time she moved with him.
Her toes curled, and her hands fisted the cushions.
“Harder.”
“Like this?”
“Yes!” Her voice hitched up, hitting the same note again.
He rocked into her, the sounds of their joining filling the room, her moans of pleasure rising in pitch.
Declan leaned forward and grasped her breasts. She covered one hand, showing him where to touch. How hard to squeeze. He kissed her neck and called her name, though his words were drowned out by the sound of her scream. Her pussy tightened around his cock, and it took his every effort to keep going.
So much for lasting longer.
The base of his spine prickled and his balls drew up. He groaned and squeezed his eyes shut, the pleasure too intense. He rocked into her, her hands holding him close, their breathing in time.
So damn good.
He leaned over her, squeezing her tighter.
Every time, it was good. No missed beats, just desire.
He kissed her shoulder and cheek, gathering her up against his chest and sat, her in his lap. She pulled the blanket over them and snuggled up to his side, the need satisfied for now. Sure, he’d want her again soon enough. That’s how it went, but for this moment, he could hold her, content in her smiles and the way her hair tickled his neck.
“That was nice.” She kissed his cheek.
“Nice?”
“I know, you aren’t nice.” She rolled her eyes. “Mind if I shower?”
Declan didn’t want to move. He’d rather stay warm and naked near the fire.
“Knock yourself out.” He patted her thigh.
Rashae kissed his cheek again and wiggled out from under the blanket. She snagged his sweater and pulled it on. It was long enough it barely covered her bottom. He watched her grab her suitcase and haul it down the hall and listened for the click of the door.
There it was.
He leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling.
This wasn’t casual. Maybe it’d been for a day, an hour, but he didn’t have casual thoughts about Rashae. She wanted a fuck buddy. A guy she could screw when she wanted, and then go back to work. He should be thrilled with the arrangement, but he wasn’t happy with table scraps anymore.
He wanted to meet these friends she talked so much about. See her work glisten on stage. Tour her cosplay closet. The wall of costume wigs she laughed about. Spend more time with her family. Yes, it was too much, too soon, but he liked them. Even Lily, with all her hoity-toity airs. He wanted to spend time with Rashae. Time neither of them had.
He dragged his hand over his face.
He was going to mess up a good thing if he didn’t come clean soon, but maybe if he proved to her that she needed him, that he wouldn’t get in her way, that things could be casual-like and yet exclusive, they could make it work.
Fuck, what was he saying?
She was going to run from him. He was exactly what she’d said she didn’t have time for.
Declan blew out a breath and pushed to his feet, hiking his jeans up. He padded down the hall into the master bedroom and washed up in the adjoining bath, still rolling around the problem of Rashae in his head.
Locking her up in his cottage was a bad idea.
Showing up on her doorstep with flowers would be an even worse one.
No matter what he thought of, it crossed the line they’d established for their relationship, such as it was.
He was going to lose her, he just knew it. Either because of what had begun as a white lie, or because he wanted to change things, and he didn’t like the knowledge.
Declan pulled out a new shirt and shoved his feet into house shoes. They’d just eaten, but he wanted something to nibble on while he mulled over the problem.
“Doctor? Doctor!”
He hissed and dug his phone out of his pocket, glaring at the screen.
Of course, he was feeling like shit, so Ayan had to text him.
Got a minute to Skype?
Declan sighed.
He couldn’t say no.
They wanted to launch the damn game in January. It was all-hands-on-deck. The New Year was days away.
He grabbed his laptop from his bag and settled in at the old, roll top desk. It was a thing of beauty the previous tenants hadn’t been able to take with them, much like t
he rest of the furniture. He plugged the laptop in and booted up, all the while reciting his motto when it came to these two.
“I am the boss. I am the boss. I am the boss.”
It might be John and Ayan’s game, but they knew shit about production and marketing. Therefore, Declan was the boss and he had to act that way. He grabbed a pad of paper and a pen, and activated the desktop recorder. After getting stuck with Ayan changing his mind and then claiming he hadn’t, Declan had gone to taping the meetings. As proof. Which was why he knew the guys were lying when they said they hadn’t agreed to hire Rashae.
Declan had the proof.
He switched his Skype online and the video call invitation popped up.
Here went another frustrating exercise.
Two windows filled his screen while a third, smaller square showed Declan what the others were seeing.
“Happy Holidays, Declan.” John grinned and waved. He seemed a lot more relaxed than he had before.
“Thank you, you, too, John. Ayan. What can I do for you today?” And how much time would this take? Declan didn’t know how long Rashae was going to be here, but he wanted to make the most of it.
“We are concerned about the timeline of events,” Ayan said, jumping to the heart of it, out of the gate, as always. Declan could appreciate that.
“Right. Right.” He jotted down a few choice words he couldn’t say to their faces.
Obnoxious shit for brains.
“Namely, we are not on the same page about the design, and therefore we cannot begin the real work because you continue to insist that our research is not valid.”
Fucking hell. Declan sucked down a deep breath before replying.
I am the boss.
“I understand your point, guys, but—”
“Hey, Declan?” Rashae’s voice made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.
“Hold on, guys.”
Movement on the screen over his shoulder snagged his gaze.
Oh, God...
No.
He turned, mouth hanging open.
Rashae stood on the worn, multi-colored rug, the evening sun streaming through the windows, gloriously naked.
And on camera.
For one second she smiled at him. A thing of beauty, radiant, perfect.
The Gamer and the Geek (Gone Geek, #4) Page 15
