Monroe looks down at where my hands squeeze. Then, her gaze travels to my face, and she smiles.
“I sat up on the rooftop deck with Amity. Our tits shined in the sunlight. Sweat pooled between my girls. A few times, I had to cover my nipples when they got too hot.”
“I think I just came,” I grunt and yank open my jeans. “Or my dick broke. Something happened.”
Freeing my cock from its prison, I find the erect monster still functioning. Monroe’s hands immediately reach for my dick, but I stop her from giving me a good rubbing.
“I want to come inside you.”
“You already did earlier,” she says, leaning forward and sucking at my collarbone. “Can I stroke you off or feel you on my tongue?”
“No, and stop asking,” I demand while gently pushing her back on the bed. “I’m in charge, and I want pussy. My dick might die without it.”
Monroe moans loudly when I suck her fat nipple into my wet mouth. I slide over her body, giving my cock a hint of the soft flesh between her legs. I’m painfully hard. A few thrusts, and I’ll be done for. This woman got under my skin and set my nerves on fire. I need to come. Now! But I want to feel her pussy first. The scent of her wet flesh elicits a painful shiver through my body.
“Monroe,” I say like I used to when we met in the hallway at Rooster’s.
“Conor,” she responds in the same hopeful tone as when we were strangers.
I don’t need to explain. Her hands cup my face, and her thighs spread. She wants me inside her. And I want her to see me. I can’t put on a show here. With Monroe, I need to be me. Her gaze promises she won’t grade my performance, claim I’m not good enough, or cut me off at the knees.
Right here is what the universe knew when it whispered in my ear. Monroe is what I’ve been missing.
Her body flushes under me as the head of my cock teases her wet slit. When our eyes meet, she offers a brilliant smile. Her excitement washes over me as I enter her body.
“I’ve had a hard-on for too long,” I warn.
Monroe arches her back, deepening my penetration. “Then come. I guarantee I’ll have you hard again soon. I get to explore, remember?”
I move my hips slowly, enjoying every inch of her hot tight pussy sucking at my cock. If I thrust any faster, I’ll come too quickly. Despite what Monroe promises, I plan to savor the silky heat wrapped around me.
She whimpers when I press deeper inside her, taking more. Earlier, I wasn’t sure if she really hadn’t come with a man before. Yet, based on her shocked reaction, this sexy woman has never been fucked to an orgasm. Her confidence falters as I move faster and deeper into her body. I assume those North Dakota losers sported tiny dicks. Why else would she whimper with surprise when I fill her just right?
My orgasm offers a painful relief. Every part of me shakes. I feel oddly exposed. Am I normally in my head when I’m fucking? I never considered this idea before. But I’m very aware of Monroe’s gaze on me.
“You didn’t come,” I say, feeling unguarded.
“Of course not. Your dick is too big,” she says, running her hands through the patch of hair at the center of my chest. “My pussy wasn’t sure what to make of it. I think we’ll need to fuck a dozen times for my body to adjust.”
Rolling my eyes, I love how she both busts my balls while wrapping me closer. Monroe owns a big heart, but she won’t let me push her around.
“I want to watch you come again,” I say as I prop myself over her body. “You looked so shocked when it happened last time. I’m curious if that expression was from surprise or if it’s your regular O-face.”
Monroe tightens her pussy around my cock resting inside her. “Don’t leave.”
“How can I when your pussy holds my dick in a vise?”
Stroking my face, Monroe frowns. “You look callous right now. Like you want to leave. I’m not ready for tonight to end.”
“Baby, I’m not going anywhere.”
Allowing the smallest grin, she sighs. “You’re so difficult to read.”
I kiss her cheek before my lips move to her forehead and nose. “I learned long ago to hide inside my head. It’s the only safe place.”
“Safe from what?”
“People’s demands. Their judgment.”
“I’ve already judged you, Conor,” she whispers as our gazes meet. “I found you to be a flawlessly, flawed man.”
“That makes no sense.”
“It really does.”
Grinning at her flushed cheeks and bright eyes, I groan when her hips start moving, and the hot spot between her legs gives my cock a jolt of inspiration.
“You’re the most beautiful woman,” I say, and she softens under me. “But you need to free my dick.”
Monroe loses her smile, and fear brightens her gaze. “I told my father to fuck off tonight. I burned bridges. I’m on borrowed time at the Overlook. People don’t want me here. My mom might not want me in her life. All I have is you, and that’s a lot of pressure to dump on a new relationship. Is that what you want? For me to grab hold of you and never let go? It’s too much.”
“If I say your clinginess is a turnoff, can I get my dick back?”
Monroe doesn’t smile. Her full lips turn downward. “I’ve ruined things with Lowell. I felt badass when I was standing up to him. Now, that feeling is gone. And you’re a mystery. I look at your face, and I see nothing. What are you thinking? What do you want?”
“I want you,” I say, holding her gaze. “You’re what I’ve wanted for weeks.”
“Why did you wait?”
“You know why.”
Panic rises in her. “You’re too you. I’m overwhelmed.”
“Do you want me to get off you?”
Wrapping me in her arms, she whimpers, “Fuck no. I want you to stay on me forever. I feel safe right this second.”
“Then, why do you look terrified?”
“Because this second won’t last. Tomorrow, you’ll be away from me, and I’ll have to figure things out on my own. I’ve already fucked up things with my mom and now my dad. I never thought I was a loser, but my track record says otherwise.”
I feel as if we should be having this conversation with my engorged dick somewhere not so wet and hot. When I try to climb off Monroe, she wraps her legs around my hips. Trapped now, I kiss her softly.
“You haven’t ruined anything,” I whisper as my lips nuzzle her ear. “The world didn’t start or end today.”
“I have so many big ideas about stuff, but they never pan out. What if I think we had a good day together, but you’re desperate for the door?” she mumbles, seeming ready to run despite claiming I’m the disinterested one.
Moving my hips, I give her pussy a deep thrust to regain her focus. Her dark eyes stare at me, panicked over every word she said today. I know this woman. She’s me. Her cockiness acts as armor to hide a swirling ball of insecurities.
“When I was a kid, and my parents were melting down, I wanted to run,” I say, resting on my elbows to free up my hands. I stroke her cheeks as her thighs still hold me in a death grip. “When Wheels died, and everyone expected me to take care of Barbie, I wanted to run. When my uncle waffled on choosing me for president while my cousin acted as if he planned to literally stab me in the back, I wanted to run. Since I’ve met you, Monroe, I’ve never once thought of running.”
Exhaling deeply, Monroe loosens her grip enough to cup my face with both of her hands. “Fuck me, Conor. When I see only you, the world is so calm and bright. I need that now.”
“Close your eyes,” I whisper.
Monroe obeys immediately.
“Relax your body. Just go limp.”
Monroe is slower to submit to this request. However, she’s desperate to give up control. Today was too stressful. She needs someone else to run the show.
First, her hands rest back by her head. Then, her hips relax. Finally, her pussy unclenches. All loose and willing under my body, Monroe waits for me to tell her what to d
o.
I offer her only silence. Her head is full of chatter. I’ve been tormented by such noise before. What she needs is to turn off her brain and just feel. Me explaining that shit won’t help, so I don’t say a damn thing.
I lift myself over her body and begin to move inside her. Monroe inhales sharply, seeming ready to take control. Instead, she forces her body to relax and her eyes to remain closed. I hope the noise in her head fades until all she can hear are her soft moans as I fill her body deeper and harder.
MONROE
Stretched out on my bed, I keep my eyes closed while Conor fucks me. My worries peel away from my heart, leaving only serenity behind. Able to picture him perfectly, I don’t need to open my eyes to see Conor. His thick dark hair falling over his heavy-lidded eyes. His full lips begging to be kissed. His long torso, perfectly ripped, not an ounce of fat on him. His skin bronzed from the sun. His nearly tattoo-free chest and arms covered in sleeves of black and gray ink.
I consider exploring his skin, craving the reassurance of knowing his body. Yet, I remain passive. My mind quiets until all I hear is our breathing, the slight mattress grunts, and my pleasured moans.
My earlier panic fades. The fatigue and worry disappear, too. I only feel Conor inside me, his cock stretching my pussy with every thrust. I didn’t think I could feel so full or such pressure. I’m like a virgin, not new to sex as much as inexperienced with a man of Conor’s size.
My pleasure builds, softly at first, and then hotter, until I can no longer keep my eyes closed. I need to know if his expression is unreadable. Will he open up to me when he comes?
The first thing I see is Conor smirking at me.
“I knew you were about to open your eyes,” he says, leaning down to kiss me.
Wrapping my thighs around his hips, I cup his face. A part of me resents how he can read me so easily while I can’t figure him out at all. If my body wasn’t made of gooey heat, I could totally hold a grudge. But I’m in love with how great sex feels with the right someone.
The sight of Conor’s muscles flexing as he leisurely fucks my body into submission is all I need to send me into horny overload. Then, Conor does something with his hips every other thrust. This move applies just enough pressure to my clit. I slide my hands down his chest, past his scarred stomach, and to his happy trail.
“I knew I should have tied you down,” Conor murmurs as his hips speed up.
“I want us to come together.”
“No, you first. I want to see your relaxed face when I explode.”
His wording ought to make me giggle, but I’m too close to my orgasm. His voice sends a shiver through me. I feel it on my skin. The heat of it soaks my flesh, and I’m finally there.
I shudder from the blinding heat I’ve never experienced before with a man inside me. This is no vibrator kind of orgasm. I actually want to scream and cry. My nails dig into his arms, holding on to the only thing that feels real.
Before I can catch my breath, Conor thrusts harder. He’s at the brink after seeing me come apart. I continue to cry out his name as if I’m performing a ritual. I embrace both the pleasure and pain as his cock takes every inch my body offers.
I don’t dare look away from his face. He’s all I see. His frosty demeanor is already cracked around the edges. He’s opening up to me. I don’t think Conor has a choice. The way his body moves now is wild, desperate for relief. Conor can no longer hide from me.
And I see an emotional whirlwind in his eyes when he finally comes inside me. At that moment, Conor throws open the door to his heart. I grip him tighter. How can I keep it open for me always?
With no answer, I can only hold on and soak in this amazing feeling. We move together until no pleasure is left, yet I’m still unwilling to stop.
“No,” I mumble when he tries to roll off me. “Let me hold you.”
“I’ll be right here,” he says, breaking free.
Both his tone and the strength he uses to create distance between us signal Conor’s done with me. I don’t know how to react. His expression is so cold now. The mood in the room is as chilly. Feeling alone, I miss my mom. Images hit me in the dark room—Zella’s blank stare when I found her, Lowell’s disappointed expression tonight, Mom’s voice when she said she wasn’t coming home, and Clive’s indifference when he announced I was getting married off. The world is suddenly very lonely.
Conor presses his sweaty body against mine, wraps an arm across my chest, and kisses my temple.
“Some time back, I was working with Anders,” he says, as his hot breath warms my already sweaty forehead. “I asked him about married life. As you’ve probably noticed, he isn’t a chatty man. He just said it was good. I asked if the sex was still good. You know, because married people with kids always bitch about their sex lives. He nodded his big head and said, ‘No fuck is as good as with his honey.’ I get that now.”
I shove him back and frown. “You’re messing with me.”
“Not even a little.”
“You run hot and cold. You say sweet things, but I don’t know if you mean them.”
Conor doesn’t react to my outburst. He just presses himself closer to me. “I can’t be an open book, Monroe,” he says softly. “I don’t know how. Maybe I never did. This is me. Is that enough?”
Studying his handsome yet indifferent face, I ask, “But you do care, right?”
“You’re why I don’t want to run. That’s not something anyone else gives me.”
Blinking too much, I try to hear the meaning behind his words. Is he really saying he cares? Am I being played? Am I fooling myself? I feel as if I’m investing too much in this man. He’s so easy to want. Today exhausted me, but he was the shining light through it all. That’s real, isn’t it? Or am I so desperate for a connection that I’m creating a bigger one than is happening?
“I don’t know you,” I whisper as he holds my gaze. “You don’t know me, either. Today was great, but we’re strangers, and I’d be stupid to trust this.”
Despite my words, I really want to believe in Conor and what’s happening between us. He’s a dream of a guy—handsome, smart, funny, sexy, good in bed, willing to put up with my shit. And I’m comfortable with him.
Except for right now, when I’m at my most vulnerable. But earlier, I felt as if Conor was someone I’d always known. That’s why I was slamming into his bumper car like a moron and dancing around in my underwear as if I’m the hottest stripper in the club. I’d convinced myself that the universe deemed us soulmates and nothing could stop what was happening.
“I shall allow you to explore my fine body now,” he says, leaning back onto the bed to provide easier access to all his hotness.
Though I don’t want to leave Conor’s arms, I force myself to sit up. He’s stretched out on my bed, filling it with his powerful body. Earlier, I wanted to know about his tattoos, but my gaze focuses instead on the scars across his hard stomach.
“How did you get these?” I ask, leaning forward to kiss the damaged flesh.
Conor’s green eyes flash with an emotion that’s gone before I can read its meaning. “I trust women too much, always assuming the best in them.”
“Why?”
“Because the meanest woman I’ve ever met is also the first one to own my heart. I see my mom in those bitches, so I hesitate.”
“Why would a woman hurt you like this?”
“She was the girlfriend of one of the men I was hunting.”
“The men who killed your father,” I say, noticing his frown since we’ve never spoken of the Killing Joes Motorcycle Club. “Amity told me about how you went away for a month to find the men.”
“Aja and I traveled to Cleveland to kill what was left of the club.”
“How did that happen? Like how did you even know about her? And do you have contact with your brother?”
“No, on him. My brother wasn’t interested in our father or me. When Wheels died, he just wanted to know if he inherited any money. The guy’s a t
weaker.”
“I’m sorry he sucks.”
“I enjoy knowing I’m the only good son Wheels made. Real ego boost.”
Wearing a faint smile, I ask, “How did you meet Aja?”
“Her mom ambushed me when I was a teenager,” he says and then hears how that sounds. “I stopped by a Burger King as I did every day after school. I didn’t want to go home, and there was nowhere else to hide. So, I would go inside and fuck around for a few hours. One time, Francesca was there with Aja.”
Frowning, I can’t imagine my mother pulling such a move. Of course, Needy didn’t have anyone scary backing her up like Aja’s mom does.
“What did she want?”
“She said my sister asked to meet me, but no one would let that happen. Francesca isn’t accustomed to being denied, so she ambushed me and asked if I wanted to meet Aja.”
“Did you?”
Conor looks at the ceiling, and I sense he’s about to lie or hide from me. “I told her no. What did I want with some kid my father made with another woman? Sharing blood didn’t make us family.”
“Did she freak out?”
“No, she just looked at Aja sitting at a booth and shook her head. Francesca had warned her that I might say no.”
Catching on to how he steps around the truth, I ask, “You told her that you didn’t want a sister but was that the truth?”
Conor instantly frowns at me. “Of course, I wanted a sister. I was lonely, Monroe.”
The anger in his gaze startles me, and I lose my confidence. Why am I sitting naked with this stranger? I need to create space between us. But my fear quickly triggers my temper. Now, I refuse to leave. Instead, I demand the truth from this naked stranger.
“So why did you say no?”
“I was fifteen. That’s what teenage boys do,” he says before his anger creeps back behind his cold exterior. “But, also, what good was knowing Aja, anyway? She couldn’t hang out with me. When life at my house got too loud, she wouldn’t be there to hide with me until the noise went away. She was just some girl in another state. What was the point?”
Studying Conor, I think of how he behaves with me. When I get upset, he backs off. He has a soft spot for women. No way did he really tell Aja no that day. I mean, obviously, they eventually became friends. However, I don't believe he looked at a disappointed girl’s face and walked away. Conor’s problem is that he cares too much. That’s why he puts up with my drama when he could have someone with less baggage.
Frost (EEMC) Page 10
