Sutton: It’s one in the morning. I don’t work this late.
Roark: It’s not about work.
Sutton: Then no.
Roark: Let me come over. I want to snuggle into you, hold you.
Sutton: Are you going to give me what I want?
Roark: You know the answer to that.
Sutton: Then you know mine. Good night, Roark.
* * *
Roark: Tomorrow is the fundraiser. I have a stylist on hold for you at Bloomingdales.
Sutton: Tell them not to waste their time. I’m not going.
Roark: Come as a business associate.
Sutton: Because that’s all I am to you?
Roark: I can’t do more.
Roark: Please, Sutton. Come.
Sutton: I’m sorry, Roark. I’m not like you. It will be too confusing.
Roark: Please . . .
* * *
Roark: I keep turning around thinking I’m going to see you.
Sutton: You’re not.
Roark: Are you really not here?
Sutton: Yes, I’m really not there.
Roark: Fuck.
Sutton: What did you expect, Roark?
Roark: Maybe that you would set aside your wants for one goddamn night and be there for me. After all, aren’t we at least friends?
Sutton: We are colleagues. We work together. After camp, we’re done.
Roark: Bullshit. You can’t just stop talking to me.
Sutton: I can and I will. I hope they raise a lot of money tonight. Don’t miss your flight tomorrow. Our schedule is jam-packed, and we need you ready to work.
Roark: Please come.
Roark: Suttttton. Where r u?
Roark: I want 2 c u.
Roark: Fuckkkk I swear I keep seeing u at this party.
Roark: Are u sleepin?
Roark: Can I come over?
Roark: Lass . . .
* * *
She told me not to come over. She said she wanted nothing to do with me. She wants so much more than what I can give her and yet, here I am, standing outside her door, desperate, wound up with need, and about to do the one thing she told me not to do: take something I don’t deserve.
I raise my fist but then stop myself and rest my forehead on the wood.
I drank way too much tonight. Hell, I drank way too much the last few days. Ever since she left my office with that pain in her eyes, I haven’t been able to get my head on straight. Am I really so scared of intimacy that I turned her away?
Yeah, I am.
I have no fucking clue what love is; I was never taught the emotion. I have no idea how to feel it or how to give it. Sutton is a girl you love. She’s . . . God, she’s so fucking perfect.
The long blonde hair that falls past her shoulders, those smoldering yet innocent eyes, and her sweet southern accent that rolls off her tongue. She’s addicting, and I need a piece of her.
Before I can stop myself, I knock on the door, loudly.
It’s past two in the morning. It’s way too late, or maybe early, whatever way you want to look at it, but this can’t wait. I need to see her, need to look into her eyes, need to hold her hand. Something, anything, I just need her to open this door. To let me in even though it’s unwise.
“Sutton, open up.” I knock again, worrying that even though I know she can hear me—I’m being plenty loud enough—she might not open out of principle. I give the door another knock, just as the locks start to unlatch, sending a wave of calm through me.
The door opens, and she stands in front of me, wearing one of the two shirts of mine she still has, her hair a tangled mess, and her eyes barely open.
Fuck, she’s gorgeous.
“Roark, please don’t do this to me.”
“You stopped texting,” I say, stepping into the apartment and shutting the door behind me.
“It was late.”
I move forward but she takes a step backward, so I take another step forward and we do the same “dance” until she’s pressed against the opposite wall, me closing in.
“I wanted you at the event tonight.”
“Sometimes we don’t get what we want, Roark.”
I reach out and take her hand in mine, my eyes cast down. “You were punishing me.”
I hear her sigh and look up in time to see her shaking her head. She moves into me and rests her hand on my chest, her fingers playing with the lapel of my suit jacket. “I wasn’t punishing you, Roark. I’m trying to keep my heart safe. I feel a lot for you, and I can’t keep playing this tug of war.”
“I’m sorry.” I glide my hand up her arm, past her collarbone, to her cheek where I slightly cup it. She leans into my touch and my heart skips a beat. My body hums, my mind’s a pile of mush, all clarity gone.
I want her, so goddamn bad.
I can’t go another moment without knowing what she tastes like, without learning the feeling of her lips passing over mine.
I’m desperate to hear what she sounds like when I’m working my hands over her body.
“Fuck . . . Sutton.” Chest heavy, my pulse pounding, I lean in.
Eyes wide, her hand gripping tighter to my suit jacket, her body hums, her breasts rising and falling, waiting for my next move.
The air becomes stagnant as the city sleeps around us, not a single sound echoes through the plaster walls, making my pulse thunder in my ears.
Don’t do it.
I bite the side of my cheek, unable to listen to the rational part of my brain. The demand for her is too strong, and it’s why I feel myself pulling her toward her bed.
“Wh-what are you doing?” she asks, and when her legs hit the mattress, she’s forced to sit. A small gasp pops out of her, but when I kneel on the bed and guide her back until she’s lying down, her eyes soften. “Roark . . .”
My hand falls to her leg where I pass my fingers lightly over her thigh, up to her hipbone, dragging her shirt with it. It’s then that I notice she’s not wearing any underwear. My shaky hand pauses as I stare at her.
And like a broken branch in the woods, my will snaps, echoing through my head with such a mighty force I blow full steam ahead.
Removing my hand, I stand up, her worried eyes searching mine until I remove my suit jacket, and roll up my sleeves. A satisfied smile crosses over her lips as I position myself between her legs and offer my hand. When she takes it, I pull her to a sitting position and reach for the hem of the shirt, pulling it up and over her head.
She’s completely naked. It’s the first time I’m seeing her bare-chested, and fuck me. Round and plump breasts with dusky pointed nipples. A little more than a handful, and I’m about to get lost in them. No wonder I’ve been obsessed.
I drag my hand over my mouth, taking her in before lowering her onto the bed. “Gorgeous,” I mutter. Where do I start? I’ve thought about this moment countless times in the shower, in bed, in my office while on a conference call, and now that it’s happening, I’m freezing up.
Maybe it’s because I shouldn’t be doing this—indulging in a small taste, a brief touch, anything to soothe this burning ache inside me. I’m being fucking selfish, but I can’t not be. She’s a goddess. My anchor.
I lift her leg and start kissing her, letting my scruff mark up her silky white skin, branding her momentarily as mine. Her hands grip the comforter beneath her as I make my way closer to her upper thigh.
I lower myself onto the bed and scoot her up higher so I can utilize the bed as support while I explore her body. In a better position, I lower my mouth to her thigh, my head right next to her pussy. I press little kisses along her skin, lightly flicking my tongue, causing her to jolt in surprise and then moan as she relaxes.
I work my mouth up and down her leg, never getting too close to the juncture between her legs. I’m not ready for that yet, not even close. I’m going to savor her, savor this moment.
Moving back up, I drag my tongue over her hipbone, where I make small circles for a minute before gliding up over he
r stomach. I glance at her face—her eyes are shut and her lips are parted—then notice her breasts rising and falling rapidly.
“Are you wet for me, Sutton?”
Her head lulls to the side. “So wet,” she whispers. I’m tempted to reach down and feel for myself, but not yet, I need to acquaint myself with her breasts first.
“Your tits, fuck, they’re so hot. Ever since I saw you in just your bra, it’s like they’ve been torturing me in my dreams.” I glide my hand up to one and give it a squeeze. Shit. I take a deep breath as my cock strains against the zipper of my pants. “I’ve wanted these so bad. I’ve thought about sucking on them, playing with your cute little nipples, and then fucking them with my cock.”
“Roark,” she says breathlessly, her eyes flying open as I lower my mouth to one of her nipples while massaging her other breast. “Oh, Roark,” she moans as her fingers weave through my hair.
So goddamn erotic, hearing my name come out of her mouth like that, as if I’m the key to her happiness.
I pull and suck, and flick my tongue over her nipple, loving the way she moans beneath me, her hips moving up and down, seeking any kind of release. It’s hot as fuck.
I move to her other breast, giving it the same treatment, as one of my hands falls between us. From the sounds she’s making to the needy push of her hips against mine, she’s extremely turned on, but I need to know how wet she is, how ready she is.
When she senses what I’m doing, the beautiful girl spreads her legs even wider, letting me know I can do whatever the hell I want, and I plan on it.
My hand wanders past her belly button, straight to her pussy. I hover for a second before lightly running my index finger along her slit.
“So fucking wet,” I mutter against her breast. Christ, so turned on, so willing. It causes me to lose my control. I slip my finger inside her, tight and perfect, and then slip out. I add another finger, and she cries out in pleasure as my thumb rubs against her clit.
“Roark, oh my God.” Her hands go to my shoulders and I consider how experienced she is. It’s as if no one has ever touched her like this.
“What do you want?” I ask, rolling my tongue over her nipple.
“I want you.” Her hands grip my shoulders even tighter when I press down on her clit. “I . . . want . . . you.”
Unable to process what that really means, I release her nipple and move my mouth down her body until I’m positioned in front of her pussy. I release my hand, causing her to cry out, only to replace it with my mouth.
“Yes,” she says, her torso lifting off the bed. I press my hand to her chest, lowering her back down, helping her to relax as my tongue goes to work.
I knew she was going to be sweet, I knew being with her was going to be a new experience for me, but never in a million years would I have guessed she’d taste this damn good or sound this damn amazing.
Her little body convulses under my tongue, writhing up and down, her head lulls side to side as her teeth mark her bottom lip. Her fingers cling desperately to the sheets, and I watch in fascination as I bring her to a full-blown orgasm in seconds. With zero shame, she yells my name, her body aching for more. I hold her still and flick my tongue over her clit again and again as she continues to spasm, until she says she can’t take it anymore and flings her arm over her eyes.
“Oh my God,” she mutters, her hips thrusting up one last time before she finally settles. I press a few kisses to the side of her legs before lifting up and pulling her under the covers. I kick my shoes off and fall in behind her, my cock hard as stone, nuzzled against her naked body.
It takes her a few minutes, but then she moves her head to the side and tries to look at me from over her shoulder. I make it hard as my grip around her waist tightens, and I try to bury my head in her hair, her seductive, lavender-scented hair.
“Roark.”
“Hmm,” I answer, sleep starting to consume me.
“What about you?”
“What about me?” I kiss her ear as my hand drifts to her breast where I palm it, as if it’s my own personal snuggle pillow.
“You’re really hard.”
“I know.”
“Let me take care of it.” She starts to move but I stop her.
“No. Just lie here with me. Let me hold you.”
“Roark, that’s not fair.” She starts to move her body along my shaft but I stop her.
“Just sleep with me, Sutton. Please.” On a heavy sigh, she acquiesces and allows me to pull her in even closer. “Thank you,” I whisper in her ear.
It’s the last thing I remember before I wake up . . . and bolt.
Chapter Thirteen
Dear Sir,
This entry doesn’t even deserve a name.
I fucked up, royally. I know I did, and I didn’t need to be confronted about it.
It’s seven in the morning and instead of lying in Sutton’s lavender haven, snuggled next to her, I bolted the minute she turned on her shower.
Did I leave a note?
Nope.
Didn’t even shoot her a text. Just left.
I panicked, because I woke up this morning feeling . . . fuck, feeling like I was on top of the world. Even after a heavy night of drinking, nothing could have brought me down, except the knowledge that one person did that to me—brought me to the pinnacle of happiness. And that made me panic.
Sutton makes me happy. I’ve never said that about another person, which is terrifying as well. But I can’t deny what I feel whenever she’s around. The only problem? I know I can’t treat that feeling the way she wants me to. She wants a man, deserves a man, who’s going to be there for her, take care of her, emotionally and physically. I can’t deliver in that way.
This morning was a prime example of that.
And I can’t give you an explanation as to why I left, other than, I panicked. Now I have to take a flight to Texas and spend two weeks on a goddamn ranch with her.
The flight attendant is going to be very busy bringing me drinks today.
Roark
* * *
SUTTON
“Aren’t you in Texas?”
“Yes,” I answer, holding back the tears threatening to fall.
“Then what’s the emergency?”
I lean my head against my childhood headboard and scrunch down into my covers, my heart heavy in my chest. I look to the side, my nose burning from the emotions bubbling up inside me.
After I got out of the shower and saw that Roark had left, without even a note, I stood in the middle of my apartment, shocked.
Then anger took over, and I was tempted to text him, to give him a piece of my mind, but knowing Roark, he’d probably sweet talk his way back into my good graces. He’s sharp on text, and I couldn’t do that to myself. So I turned my phone off, finished packing for Texas, and headed to the airport.
I held it together for the six hours of travel until I got to the ranch, went to my room, and collapsed on my bed. That’s when embarrassment followed by anger hit me.
How dare he? After I told him I couldn’t do this back and forth tango. He still messed with my head . . . messed with a small piece of my heart.
“Roark came over last night.”
“Oh yummy. Did you do anything exciting? Did you touch his penis?”
“No, but he did go down on me.” I remember the euphoric feeling he delivered. “I’ve never felt anything like it before, Maddie. I came so hard I didn’t think it was going to stop.”
“Well . . . that just made me horny.”
“Maddie, I’m trying to be serious here.”
“So am I, tell me more.”
“He left when I was in the shower.”
Silence.
“Wait, what? He left? Did he leave a note?”
“No.” He didn’t leave anything except his scent and a reason for my humiliation. I wipe a stray tear away. “A few days ago I told him I couldn’t do this ambiguous thing anymore. He could date me, or we had to go back to being
colleagues only.”
“Wow, Sutton. I’m totally impressed. What did he say to that?”
“Not much. I guess that’s my fault. I didn’t get a steady answer from him. He came over last night, and I was going to turn him away, but when I saw the look in his eyes, I believed he wanted more. And then, things escalated and before I knew it I was naked and he was between my legs.”
“That’s so hot.”
“Maddie,” I groan. “Please.”
“Okay, yeah, sorry. Best friend duties. Uh . . . well, I’m sorry he’s a dick, but at least you got an orgasm out of it.”
There she is, always looking at the positive side of things.
“Yeah, the best orgasm of my life.” I sigh. It was beyond anything I’ve ever felt before.
“He seems like a guy who delivers life-changing orgasms. His eyes alone promise it. Let’s think about this rationally. You’re not in love with him, right?”
“No. I mean I have feelings for him.”
“Feelings are okay. This is fixable. When does he get to Texas?”
“Later this afternoon. He’s staying in the room across from mine.”
“Gah, that won’t be awkward.”
“Tell me about it.” I can thank my dad for that setup, although he’s clueless as to what’s going on. “I’m dreading seeing him, Maddie.”
I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to will myself to stay strong. Don’t cry.
“Why? This is the perfect opportunity for revenge.”
Revenge? “What are you talking about?” I ask, sitting up in my bed. “How could I possibly get revenge and for what?”
“For messing with your head. Granted from what you told me, Roark seems like a complicated man with a dark past, so he’s bound to do something to screw up his chance with you. I think it’s in his bad-boy blood. It’s not an excuse, but I think it’s a fact.”
“Yeah, even though I want to think he’s the biggest dick in the world, I agree with that. He’s a little broken and doesn’t really have a working moral compass. It’s as if he’s floating, trying to make the best decisions he can with what he’s been given.”
Diary of a Bad Boy Page 17
