by Anna Argent
Her body shimmered with need. Every inch she took sent him higher, she went right along with him. She might have been the one on her knees, but in this moment, he was the one worshiping her. Soft, fervent words spilled from his lips, followed by harsh, gritty curses and his commands that she take him deeper, suck harder.
She did everything he asked, and it only made her burn brighter.
She'd just hit her stride when his thighs bunched and his abdomen rippled with tension. Without words, he pulled her up his body and lifted her onto the counter.
His broad shoulders shoved her thighs wide. His head lowered. Hot, calloused fingers parted her labia, and then his mouth closed over her clit with unerring accuracy.
Searing jolts of sensation ricocheted through her abdomen and swirled in a knotted pile. His tongue flicked across the bundle of nerves, kissing it as he had her mouth, playing with her clit as if it were a tiny tongue dancing with his. Pressure built behind her eyes. Heat coiled in her chest. She knew she would come soon if he kept up this pace, but she didn't want it to be over that fast.
Gemma had always been a one-orgasm girl, unable to find that illusive second, or the imaginary third. After coming once, her skin became too sensitive to touch.
And she wasn't done being touched by Saxon yet.
She pushed his head back before it was too late. He looked up at her with questioning eyes, but she didn't explain herself. She didn't want him to know that her wiring was faulty. For now, she only wanted him to fuck her.
Unable to speak, Gemma handed him the condom from the counter where he'd laid it.
Saxon took the hint, donned the condom and pulled her to the edge of the counter. His gaze met hers, and he surged forward, driving the first few inches of his thick cock into her.
She'd never had a man as big as him before, but there was no pain. Her body stretched to take him like she'd been made just for that. Even the sensation of extreme fullness was its own kind of pleasure.
"Good?" he asked.
She nodded and grabbed his shoulders. "Perfect."
That was all he needed to know to finish what he'd started and bury himself in her pussy balls deep.
Gemma pulled in a startled breath as rioting nerve endings adjusted to his extreme presence. Every part of her was singing his praises, chanting at him to fuck her. And she was all for it.
His jaw bunched once, twice. He was holding back.
For her? She couldn't tell, but she didn't want that.
Words were beyond her, so she had no choice but to show him what she needed.
Gemma used her arms and legs to leverage herself up from the counter. The move lifted her from his erection, but when she came back down again, she was completely impaled, as full as a woman could be without pain.
Saxon's green eyes went dark. The friendly, good-natured man she'd come to know disappeared, and a wild savage stood in his place.
He lifted her ass with one arm and moved until she was pressed against the wall. Once pinned, his hips moved, rolling with purposeful strength with one objective.
"Come for me, Gemma." His voice was strange, almost guttural. It made fine hairs lift away from her body and a primal shiver of lust race across her skin.
Sweat beaded on her brow. Her breathing raced neck-and-neck with his. Slick wetness flooded her pussy. She'd been wet before, but she was dripping now, filling the air with the scent of her acute arousal.
She'd never been turned on to the point of pain before, but she was definitely there now, hovering on the knife's edge between agony and ecstasy. Each thrust of his cock shoved her higher. Even the cool, hard plane of the wall at her back, holding her in place for his surging movement, was entrancing.
She knew what awaited her—the crashing pleasure of release. She wanted to hold it off for just a few minutes longer, but that wasn't an option. Saxon was driving the tidal wave right for her, and there wasn't a thing she could do to stop it.
Her voice came out in higher and higher cries. His jaw clenched. His pace sped. Her whole universe became centered around where his flesh entered hers. So much heat, so much pressure, so much sensation.
She couldn't take any more. She was too full. Bursting.
As the first tight contraction of her orgasm gripped her, she caught a glimpse of his face and the satisfied smile that came over him.
"Mine," he ground out, then he was exploding, too.
Deep inside her, she felt his cock swell and throb as he came. And then she was so consumed by her own orgasm, she couldn't sort out one sensation from another. It all knotted together in a bundle of heat and pressure and release until she no longer knew where she stopped and he started.
Saxon stayed inside her until he'd spilled his last drop of semen, until the last quiver of her pussy softened to a faint flutter. Only then did he slide out and loosen his hold on her enough for her feet to touch the ground.
She already missed the feel of him inside of her. The slick heat of sex still lingered within her, but it wasn't nearly enough.
His head was bent, his forehead pressed to hers. Their breath warmed the air between them, and she couldn't help but fill her lungs with his scent.
Without a word, he kissed the top of her head, then disengaged their limbs.
Gemma locked her knees so she didn't crumple to the ground. Sex with him had rocked her world, and it was still swaying wildly.
Saxon took off the condom and wrapped it in paper towels before throwing it in the giant trash can filled with sawdust and scraps of lumber.
In a town that thrived on gossip, it was smart to hide the proof of their actions tonight, and she appreciated that he thought of it.
She was beyond thinking about anything but when she might get his cock in her next.
She'd heard once as a teen that the Grace men were addicting. Now she knew what all of those girls meant. One hit and you were hooked.
"I'd offer you a bottle of water, but the men took it with them when they left," he said as he slipped on his jeans. His gaze never left her as he moved, and if she hadn't known he'd just come, she would have sworn he wanted to fuck her again.
She was all for it—orgasm or not—right after she was able to catch her breath. She was too shaken and rubbery to move, so she stood there, naked and flushed, letting him stare.
When his pants were once again fastened, he crossed to her on slow, prowling steps. "You okay, honey?"
"I think you broke me." She added a smile to her statement so he wouldn't think she meant it in a bad way. She definitely liked the way he broke her.
Even now her insides were twitching and jumping from the aftermath of her orgasm—maybe even heating again as she watched him move, his muscles bunching with effortless strength. She'd already come, but that slow build of need was building again.
Fast.
He crossed to her wearing a satisfied smile. "Do I need to kiss you and make you better?"
She groaned in spite of herself as she remembered his wicked, talented mouth and what it could do.
And then she remembered how men took it personally that she couldn't come twice, as if it were an insult to their manhood. She didn't want to face that kind of pressure and inevitable disappointment with Saxon, so she did her best to shove away the haze of desire surrounding her.
"As lovely as that sounds," she said, "I need to get back to Aunt Beth. I told her I wouldn't be out late."
He ran a thick finger down the center of Gemma's body, from chin to the top of her mound. His touch left a delicious line of goosebumps in its wake, and it was all she could do not to shiver and give away the effect he had on her.
"If you change your mind, you know where to find me," he said. "I'll leave the front door unlocked."
She almost told him how dangerous that was, but then remembered where they were. People frequently left their doors unlocked, not even a little worried that something bad would walk through. Aunt Beth didn't even give Gemma a key, because there was no need for one. The Fort
ier house was always open.
Saxon leaned down and kissed her mouth, lingering with slow tenderness. Her toes curled in delight, and another intoxicating swath of heat engulfed her.
He was one hell of a potent man, going to her head the way no other ever had.
How was she going to walk away from something that rare? How was any other man every going to live up to such a perfect specimen?
Gemma pressed against his chest to end the torturously sweet kiss. It was best to keep things light and casual. Sex was fine. Feelings were not.
Because she'd been out in the big, bad world and knew for a fact that men like Saxon were a rare breed. She would likely never find one like him in St. Louis where her career and her life were.
The idea of staying here tickled the back of her mind, but she shut it down before it could grow roots.
Small town living was not for her. She'd worked too hard to get where she was. Her big break had finally arrived, and she wasn't going to let go of it without a fight. Yes, there was a chance she'd get fired for being gone too long, but two other restaurants had been fighting over her. One of them would jump at the chance to hire her. She was sure of it.
Saxon frowned. "Is everything okay? You're not regretting what we did, are you?"
"Oh no," she said honestly. "That was great."
"But?"
She debated not telling him, but knew he would hound her until he learned the truth. "I just want to keep things casual between us. You know?"
He stilled. "Casual, as in you're done having sex with me?"
She still hadn't found the strength to dress yet, so when she wrapped her arms around his neck, her breasts pressed against his bare chest. "No, casual as in we keep our relationship as it is. Great sex between friends. I'm not staying in town long, but as long as I'm here…"
He gave her a blank stare. "Sex between friends?"
The way he said it gave her pause. There was a coldness in his tone, like maybe she'd insulted him.
"Well, I consider us friends. Don't you?"
"A friend you fuck?" Again, his tone was flat and hard.
"It's not that uncommon. People do it all the time. You know, friends with benefits."
He picked up her clothes and handed them to her. "We should go now."
"I've upset you." It had been the last thing she'd wanted to do, but it was clear that she'd said something wrong.
"Not upset. Just processing."
"Don't tell me that women don't throw themselves at you all the time, offering sex with no strings attached."
"I generally avoid those women. They're not what I'm looking for."
"Which is?"
He shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Apparently, you're not what I'm looking for, either."
***
Saxon hated the way he felt—the way Gemma had made him feel.
His gut twisted all the way home as he followed her beat up Toyota to make sure she didn't go back to the bakery. He watched as she parked and went inside Aunt Beth's house, then sat in his own driveway, trying to get control of his anger.
He was a red-blooded man being offered no-strings-attached sex with a stunningly beautiful woman. Why the hell was he pissed? He wasn't some infatuated teenage girl, not in control of his own emotions. He was a grown man, perfectly capable of separating sex and romance. Wasn't he?
He dialed Mason, hoping his big brother would pick up and offer him some sage advice. When the call went to voice mail—again—he briefly debated calling Dad before discarding the idea.
Dad was great with numbers. He had a strong business sense, and a natural skill with all the structural elements that went into constructing a building. He knew what material could carry what kind of load and could do complex engineering equations in his head. He could not, however, offer relationship advice. That was Mom's domain, and Saxon would rather squirm in frustrated silence than talk to her. She'd get emotionally invested in which path would end up with grandbabies the soonest and not spend enough time thinking about what was best for him or Gemma.
He'd rather chew off his own arm than ask his baby brother and sister to listen to him whine. They both had their own lives to deal with. He was the one they were supposed to turn to when they needed help, not the other way around.
Grandad would know what to do. Grandad always knew what to do, but it was too late to call him tonight as he was an early to bed, early to rise kind of man. And even if he was still awake, what would Saxon say that wouldn't make him sound like a child?
Gemma will let me in her body, but not her head or her heart? Yeah, right. He's sound like a teenage girl mooning over a boy who wouldn't return phone calls.
No, talking to Grandad was also out of the question.
Left to deal with his own problems, Saxon went inside and went over his calendar. Spring was a busy time for Grace Construction, and there was plenty to do to occupy his mind. Plans to review, material lists to compile, orders to submit, invoices to pay…the work was nonstop.
So, with no other options, he was going to take a page out of Mason's playbook and throw himself into his work.
Maybe if he exhausted himself, he wouldn't think about Gemma and the ache he got in his chest every time her sweet face appeared in his mind.
Chapter Twenty-four
Gemma spent the next several days keeping busy. She wanted to see Saxon, but his truck was constantly gone until late every night. She'd texted him a few times, but his curt responses hadn't encouraged her to pursue more conversation.
She'd hurt him. She hadn't meant to, she wasn't even sure exactly how she'd hurt him, but she had. With him being unwilling to talk, she had no idea how to fix it.
During the day, she baked, stocking both the Dockside Diner and Chez Bourgeois Café. The town Summer Kickoff Festival was coming this weekend, and she'd been asked to supply some of the food. A couple of orders for birthday cakes had also trickled in, and she gladly fit those projects in between her other work.
In the evening, she sat with Aunt Beth, pretending nothing was wrong. They watched TV, chatted, sipped hot tea and reminisced about all the summers they'd spent just like this.
But this visit was different. Gemma's laughs were fake, her smiles only on the surface.
She missed Saxon—his easygoing grins, his rock-steady support, and his hot, tender kisses. On top of that, the bakery remained as they'd left it—an unfinished construction zone unfit for human occupation.
With just over a week until the tourist season began in earnest, she knew there was no way she was going to be able to keep her aunt's dreams alive.
She was letting Aunt Beth down. Little by little, she was failing to take care of the one person who'd always cared for her.
Aunt Beth shuffled off to bed early, as was her habit after decades of waking early to open the Rise and Shine. Gemma knew before she even went to her bedroom that sleep wouldn't come. She'd stare at her ceiling, worrying, angsting, stressing, planning and re-planning.
She couldn't do this again—spend another sleepless night wondering how she was going to make everything work out when so little of it was within her power.
This home had always been her solace, but it felt more like a prison now—a sleepless, stressful, anxiety-inducing prison.
She padded around the house for a while, tidying things and making sure that no tripping hazards were lying around. The picture window was still boarded up—it's replacement on order—so she parted the curtains on the little window in the front door and stared at Saxon's house.
His truck was in the driveway. A light was on inside.
He was home, so close she could almost smell the warm, wild scent of his skin.
An ache formed deep in her belly—a physical emptiness to go with her stress and fatigue.
A light in his kitchen turned on, and the proof of his presence was almost overpowering. Was he hungry? She hadn't been taking him meals, even though she'd missed cooking for him. He liked everything, and her efforts were al
ways rewarded with praise and gratitude. If he'd given her even the slightest warmth, she would have kept feeding him. As it was, her questions about what he'd like for dinner had been returned with curt responses.
I'm busy tonight. Not hungry. Eating out.
After three attempts, she'd quit trying, finally taking his hint that he didn't want her to feed him anymore.
Gemma stared at his house, wishing she could see him. Even just watching him would ease her mind and relax her body. She was sure of it.
She'd been able to sleep over there. With him. She didn't know why, but he had a calming effect on her, making her feel like she wasn't completely alone.
She needed that. But even more, she needed him.
The only time she'd forgotten about her problems had been in his arms. When he'd kissed her and set her body on fire, she'd been free. Safe.
Gemma wasn't a fool. She knew that showing up at his front door in the middle of the night was an implied booty call, but she didn't care. She needed that too.
Sex would definitely take the edge off her stress. Sex with Saxon would rock her world until stress was no longer a concept she even remembered.
She didn't stop to think about how it would look to any nosey neighbors who might be watching, or how Aunt Beth would feel knowing her niece was sneaking out to fuck the man who mowed her lawn. Gemma simply slipped outside and jogged across the street until she was standing on his front porch.
He opened the door without her knocking on it, like he'd been waiting for someone.
"Are you okay?" he asked, her welfare always his first concern, though she had no idea why.
"I want you," she said, her words as blunt as the need squirming in her abdomen.
He stared at her for a long minute, as if debating whether or not to let her in. "Desire or convenience?" he asked.
"What?" she asked, confused.
"Are you here to blow off steam in my bed, or because you actually like me?"
What man turned down sex like that?
She was so taken aback, her tone was sharp. "Does it matter?"
