by Tracy Wolff
Goddamnit.
I start to pull out so I can figure out what the fuck is going on, but she wraps her arms and legs around me to keep me in place. “Please, Nic,” she says, arching her hips against my own. “Please, don’t. I need—”
I know exactly what she needs, which is why I wrap my arms around her and roll so that I’m on the bottom and she’s straddling me. I’m still inside her, can still hear her broken breaths and feel the warm, soft heat of her pussy pulling at me—and having her ride me comes with the added bonus of a really good view of her breasts. In my opinion, it’s a win-win situation all the way around.
Especially when Jordan starts to move.
I’m so close already that it doesn’t take much before my hands are tangling in the sheets and I’m using every trick in the book to keep from coming before she does. Reciting the alphabet backward, going over baseball stats in my head, redesigning the engine of a car we just got into the shop. None of it works, though, not when she’s so fucking hot and wet and she’s riding me with such a goddamn perfect rhythm.
Desperate for release, but just as desperate to take her over with me, I slide my hand between us. Find her clit with my thumb and stroke back and forth across the top of it again and again and again. It doesn’t take long before Jordan’s crying out, her nails scraping down my chest as her hips piston back and forth over mine.
I can’t think, can’t breathe, can’t do anything but feel as she takes me higher and higher and higher. In desperation I reach up with my free hand and twist her nipple between my thumb and index finger. She screams, her body going off like a rocket as she comes around me.
And then I’m coming, too, emptying myself inside of her in a series of long pulses that have my heart nearly pounding out of my chest and my brain going fuzzy with a pleasure so intense it’s all I can do to stay conscious.
When it’s over, when I can function again on the most basic level, I pull Jordan down for a lingering kiss before slowly sliding out of her.
I miss her heat immediately, and after taking off the condom and wrapping it in a tissue from the box next to my bed, I pull her into my side. If I can’t spend my life inside her, spending it cuddled up beside her is the next best thing.
Except Jordan can’t relax. She’s twisting and shifting and moving around so much that if I hadn’t felt her go off—twice—I’d swear she still needed to come. Not that that’s exactly a problem for me. I’d like nothing more than to spend the rest of the day getting her off over and over again.
When she still doesn’t settle after a couple more minutes, I turn onto my side so that we’re face-to-face. “You okay?” I murmur, sliding a hand over her breast and down her stomach before slipping it between her thighs.
“Yeah, of course.”
“You sure?” I ask as I slide a finger between her labia and start to rub. Fuck. She’s still wet and hot and for a second I want nothing more than to say to hell with rubbing her off and just slide inside of her instead. But I know it’s been a while since she’s done this and the last thing I want is to make her sore.
“You don’t—” Her breath breaks as she slides a hand down to grab on to mine. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Believe me, it’s no hardship,” I tell her, slipping my middle finger inside of her one slow inch at a time. “I’m happy to make you come all day.”
“That’s not—that’s not what’s wrong,” she gasps out even as she rocks her hips against my fingers.
“Then what is?” I demand, pausing with my thumb on her clit.
“Don’t stop!” she cries. “Please, don’t—”
“Then tell me what’s wrong.” I circle her clit fast and hard, and it only takes a few strokes before she’s right up against the edge of another orgasm. I stop moments before she hurtles over the cliff, keeping her poised on the brink. “Tell me what’s got you so upset.”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” she gasps, her hips moving wildly against my hand. “This is how you get information? Are you trying to kill me?”
“You’re the one refusing to tell me what’s up. I’m just doing what I have to to get a straight answer out of you.” I curve my finger so that it rubs against her G-spot then nearly come myself when she whimpers low in her throat.
“Please, Nic, let me come. Please, let me—let me—” She breaks off on a gasp, her breath coming in little more than pants as her nails dig furrows in my chest.
She looks gorgeous like this—pupils blown wide, skin flushed, head rocking back and forth on the pillow as she clenches around my fingers. It would take a saint to resist her and I’ve never claimed to be anything but a sinner.
Twisting my fingers deep inside of her, I bring her off with a couple rough strokes of her clit. She screams my name as she comes, her fingers now tangling in my dreads instead of my skin.
But just because she came doesn’t mean she’s off the hook. I still want to know why she couldn’t settle, still want to know why she was so fidgety. Which is why I don’t wait for her to come down—don’t wait for her to so much as catch her breath before I demand, “Tell me what’s wrong.”
“What do you mean?” she gasps out. “Nothing’s wrong—”
“Damn it, Jordan. I’m not fucking around here.” I roll over so that I’m sitting on the edge of the bed. I’m pissed off enough that I don’t trust myself not to fuck her all over again and while that might be enjoyable as hell, it won’t get me the answers I need. “Something had you all worked up a few minutes ago and I want to know what.”
“It’s nothing—”
“Bullshit. It was obviously something and you need to tell me what it is.”
“Why?” she says as she crawls out of bed, grabbing one of the towels off the floor to wrap around herself as she does.
“What do you mean why?”
“Why do I need to tell you anything?”
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I stare at her incredulously.
“No, I’m not kidding. I’ve known you two days. What gives you the right to demand anything from me?”
“How about the fact that I’m the guy in bed with you? I’m the guy making you come. If you need something different from me—”
Her laughter cuts me off, drowns out the rest of what I was going to say. “Are you being serious right now?”
“I was being serious, yes.”
“You make me come nearly a dozen times in the space of one night and you think you’re doing something wrong?”
“I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me?”
“I—” She breaks off, shakes her head. But I’m not having it. I reach out a hand and snag her wrist, then yank her against me, hard.
She tumbles off balance and right into my lap, exactly like I planned. But when she starts to push herself up, I won’t let her. Instead, I keep her where she is, arranging her so that she’s facing me and straddling my lap.
“Look, if you want to keep your past to yourself, I’ll never say a word about it. What happened to you is your business and nobody else’s until you decide to share it. But what goes on in this bedroom, between you and me? You don’t get to keep quiet about that. If I do something you don’t like or something that makes you uncomfortable, you need to tell me so that I don’t do it again.”
She makes a frustrated sound that arrows to the very core of me. Because I know she’s a private person. I know how hard it is for her to say anything about herself. But this isn’t casual to me. Jordan isn’t a one-night stand I’m never going to see again and if I’m doing something in bed that freaks her out, you’re goddamn right I want to know about it. She’s too fragile for me to make those kinds of mistakes.
I’m as frustrated as she is now, but I’m still not ready to let this drop. It’s too important for me to just forget about it, no matter how much she wants me to.
“Look, baby, I’m sorry I’m pushing you.” I reach up, cup her face in my hands. Smooth my thumbs along her cheekbones. Drop soft kisses a
long her forehead. “And I’m sorry if talking about sex with me embarrasses you. But I don’t want to do anything that scares you and I sure as hell don’t want to hurt you. So please, for me, won’t you tell me what’s going on?”
“It’s not you, Nic. Of course it’s not you. You have to know how perfect you are.”
“Not exactly,” I say with a snort. But my hands are gentle as I rub them up and down her back. “So if it’s not me, then what is it? What freaked you out?”
“Don’t you get that it’s me?”
“You?” Now I’m more confused than ever.
“You don’t have to fake surprise, you know. I get that I’m a mess. I get that having sex with me isn’t like having sex with a normal woman—”
“Damn right. It’s a hell of a lot better.”
She rolls her eyes at that. “You know what I mean.”
“No, I really don’t.”
I stare at her expectantly, but for long seconds she doesn’t say anything. Instead she looks anywhere and everywhere but at me. I know she’s still holding out hope that I’ll let this drop, but better that she learn now how stubborn I am when it comes to the people I care about. Jace can text me a thousand times, but I’m not moving from this spot until I know what’s got Jordan so upset.
“You were on top of me and I freaked out! You can’t tell me that didn’t bother you because it sure as hell bothered me!”
“I’m sorry. The last thing I wanted to do was—”
“Don’t you fucking dare apologize to me! I’m not upset that you wanted to have sex like that. I’m upset that I couldn’t give that to you when you so obviously wanted it.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “Are you fucking kidding me? That’s what has you so worked up? That we had to have sex with you on top?”
“You know what, if you’re going to laugh at me, you can just let me go right now. You’re the one who demanded that I tell you and when I do, you make me feel even more stupid—” She’s struggling against me now, trying to get away. But I’m not having it, not when we’re finally getting somewhere.
“I’m not laughing at you, I’m just…”
She tilts her chin up defiantly. “Just what?”
“Just…” Shocked. Astonished. Flummoxed, really, and I don’t think I’ve ever been able to use that word to describe myself in my life. But that’s what I am. Flummoxed.
“Jordan, you don’t really think I care how we have sex, do you?”
For the first time, she looks uncertain. “Don’t you?”
“No. Fuck, no. Baby, as long as you let me inside that pretty pussy of yours, I don’t care how we do it. I’d do it standing on my head if that’s what you wanted.”
“You would not!”
“I totally would. I’d do it hanging from a trapeze if that’s what you needed to get off. Doing it with you on top where I can see your pretty breasts and have easy access to your clit and get to watch your face as you come all over me? Baby, that’s just the cherry on top of the sundae to me.”
To prove it to her, I slide a hand underneath her towel and play with her pretty, pretty clit. Except she slaps my hand away. “You’re not doing that to me again. You’re not ending this argument with sex.”
“Considering this argument is all about sex, I can’t think of a better way to end it. Especially if it means I get to sit back and let you fuck me.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “You’re ridiculous.”
“Me? That’s what you get out of this? That I’m the ridiculous one in this conversation?”
“Actually, that’s exactly what I get out of it.”
“You’re the one worried about us not having enough sexual positions in our repertoire. I’m just trying to put your mind at ease.”
“Yes, well, you’ve done a very good job of it.”
“Oh, yeah?” I ask, my dick getting hard at the sudden primness in her tone. “How good of a job did I do?”
“Not that good,” she says, climbing off my lap with a laugh.
I grab on to her, wrapping an arm around her waist so she can’t back away. “You sure about that?”
“Very sure. And even if I wasn’t, I have a psych test in forty-five minutes. I don’t have time to play around with you any more this morning.”
“Forty-five minutes? That’s plenty of time for me to make you come.”
“Not when my campus is halfway across town and traffic is shit.”
She’s right, I know she’s right. But still, I haven’t gotten enough of her. There’s a part of me that wants nothing more than to lock her in here for weeks so that I can fuck her whenever I want to. Not that I think she’d let me get away with that in a million years, but it’s a nice fantasy.
I follow her into the bathroom, watch as she turns on the shower. “You know, I can get anywhere in the city limits in fifteen minutes. Even at rush hour.”
She glances over her shoulder just as she steps into the shower. “That’s what I’m counting on.”
Hot damn. The day may go to hell later, but at least it’s getting a damn good start.
Chapter 21
Jordan
“You aren’t seriously suggesting that I need a bodyguard, are you?”
“I’m not suggesting anything. I’m telling you that until I figure out a way to end this thing, you’re not going anywhere alone.”
“You’re telling me?”
“Don’t,” he says, shooting me a look over the top of his Wayfarers as he slides in and out of traffic with ease. I have to hand it to the man. He might be bossy as hell, but he certainly knows how to handle a car. Not to mention the fact that he looks hot as hell when he’s doing it.
Still, I don’t like the way he just assumes I’m going to fall into line. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t make this a power struggle. You’re a smart woman. You know it’s not a good idea for you to be unprotected when there’s a dirty cop out there who considers you a threat. And since I’m the one who got you into this mess, I’m damn sure going to be the one to make sure you get out of it in one piece.”
There’s a lot of reasons I shouldn’t be turned on by what he just said. There’s a lot of things for me to be afraid of (like ending up dead) and a lot of things for me to take exception to (like him thinking it’s his job to protect me). I’ve been protecting myself just fine for the last three years, been making decisions to keep myself safe and sane and reasonably happy. I don’t need some guy to barge into my life now and tell me how to do that.
And yet…and yet, I’m not annoyed with Nic, no matter how much I try to be. And I am turned on—by his strength, by the way he doesn’t back down and definitely by his determination to keep me safe. I’m not shelving my feminist sensibilities, not handing over my well-being to him. But I am smart enough to admit that Nic knows more about this than I do and letting him help me out is probably the best thing I could do in this situation.
Still, “You don’t really think some killer cop is lurking in my psychology class, do you?”
“Stranger things have happened. And even if it is perfectly safe, I don’t take chances with my woman’s life.”
Whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa. He pulls to a stop at a red light a few blocks from UCSD’s campus. “Wait a minute. Did you just call me your woman?”
The light turns green and he shifts gears, taking us from zero to sixty before I can do much more than blink. “Obviously.”
“Excuse me, but there’s nothing obvious about it! We met less than forty-eight hours ago. Besides, don’t you think you should at least consult me before you assume something like that?”
Another glance over the top of those damn glasses of his. “Unless some other guy made you come thirteen times in the last twenty-four hours, I’m pretty sure it’s a foregone conclusion.”
For long moments, I’m actually speechless, unable to do anything but gape at him like a giant guppy. When I finally do manage to speak, my voice comes out in little more than a squeak. “My God, y
ou’re arrogant!”
“It’s not arrogance if you can actually back it up.” He turns a corner without bothering to slow down, and the car doesn’t so much as shiver in protest. It wouldn’t dare. “I’m not sure what you thought we were doing in my bed all last night, but that was definitely me making you mine.”
He makes another right and this one takes us through the university’s main entrance. A couple more turns and he’s sliding into a parking spot at the front of the lot closest to my psych class. At this point, I don’t even bother to ask how he knew where to park. I’ve already accepted the fact that when it comes to anything involving cars, Nic Medina is pure magic.
Still, I do feel honor bound to point out, “You don’t have a sticker. You’re going to get ticketed or towed if you park here.”
The look he shoots my way tells me he’s not worried.
Then he’s out of the car, coming around to open my door for me before I even have a chance to gather all my stuff. “You know we’re not done with this conversation,” I tell him, sending him a pointed look of my own as he helps me from the car.
“I know you think we’re not done.” He takes my backpack from me, swinging it over his massive shoulder like it weighs nothing. Then he slips his other arm around my shoulders and gently propels me toward the psych building.
“That’s not the same thing at all.”
“Isn’t it?”
My teeth grind together in frustration. “You know, right, that you can’t actually make me be your girlfriend.”
“I’m amused by the fact that you think I have to make you do anything.” His hand slips inside one of the straps of the tank top Lena lent me, his fingers gently stroking over my arm, my shoulder, the top of my breast.
My breath comes out in one, long shuddering sigh and I’m leaning into him before I even know I’m going to do it. He doesn’t say anything, but then he doesn’t have to. I can all but feel his triumph.
“This doesn’t mean you’ve won,” I tell him, even though we both know it’s a lie.
