Pull You In (Rivers Brothers Book 3)

by Jessica Gadziala

  "Ah, jeans," she said immediately. "And a top."

  "Yeah? What kind of top?" I asked, feeling my lips quirk up.

  "It's kind of like a, well, a corset," she admitted after a short pause.

  "Hmm," I said, letting the sound rumble through my chest. "The kind where your hand can just slip down the top?" I asked, hearing the little in-drawn breath as she finally started to catch on.

  "Rush.."

  "No, baby, we're not in a rush," I cut her off. "We can go as slow as you want," I added. "Or as fast," I told her, already feeling my cock stirring, not sure how I was going to muster the self-control to stay where I was when she had her hand down her pants, when she was not only moaning through the phone at me, but one room away. "Back to that corset," I went on, knowing she needed the talking, the suggestions, that she never did any of the talking, any of the leading. "Can your hand just slide right inside the top?" I asked.

  "I don't know."

  "Think you can try for me?" I asked, taking a slow breath as the arm in the room across from me moved off the rest.

  "Yeah," she told me, voice small.

  "It slides right in?" I asked.

  "Yeah."

  "Do you have anything on under it?" I asked, already knowing the answer, but we were working with the fantasy here.

  "N-no."

  "So I could slide my hand right down and close my hand around your breast?" I asked, hearing her breath catch slightly. "I could slip my thumb over your nipple?" I asked, closing my eyes, looking for some control. "Baby?"

  "Yes," she admitted.

  "Are you doing that for me?" I asked, already knowing she was. Because, apparently, she had the same issue I did. When we were on the phone with each other, neither of us could control our reactions to each other.

  "Yes."

  "You like it better when they're rolled though, right?" I asked, realizing there was so much I already knew about her preferences, despite never having experienced them firsthand.

  "Yes," she said, voice a little thicker, needier.

  "Does that feel good? Thinking about my fingers rolling, squeezing?" I asked. "About my lips sucking, tongue teasing, teeth nipping?" I asked.

  To that, I got a painful stab of need in my cock, the friction in my jeans making it hard to focus.

  "Yes," she said in that soft, sweet little voice of hers that I knew from experience meant she was ready to move on, that she was lost enough in the moment that she was able to detach, that she was mindless to anything but the need of release from the clawing need inside.

  "I want to slide my hand inside your pants," I told her, getting a whimpering sound from her, knowing she was following along. "Into your panties," I added, "Run my finger up your wet pussy. You're wet for me, aren't you?" I asked, already knowing. I could hear it in her breathing, in the catches, in the shaky exhales.

  "Yes," she whimpered.

  "I bet your clit is throbbing," I told her. "Begging to be touched. Nice and slow," I added, knowing that was how she liked it to start, slowly building the momentum. "Touch it for me, baby," I demanded, my hand slipping down to rub over the fly of my jeans, just the once, convincing myself it would help the throbbing need, but finding that it only made it worse.

  I stood there for a long moment, hearing her work herself, making the little mewling noises I'd been hearing in my dreams lately fill my ear, familiar, even hotter than they had been in the past.

  Because they were hers.

  "You want to come, don't you? I asked, hearing the roughness in my voice.

  "Please," she begged.

  Whatever was left of my control snapped at that word, at the desperation in it.

  "Please what?" I demanded. I didn't usually put her on the spot, but I had already made it across the hall. My forehead was pressed against the door, telling myself I would stay on this side of it, that I just wanted to be closer, that I wanted to hear her come through the wall instead of the phone.

  I didn't expect her to say it, to find the nerve. But I guess I underestimated how desperate she was for release, how much she needed for me to demand she do it.

  But then her voice met my ear, small, barely audible, but I heard it.

  "Please make me come," she whispered.

  There was no staying on my side of the door.

  My hand was reaching for the knob before she even finished speaking, pushing the door open, striding across the office, tossing my phone on the desk, grabbing the one from her ear with one hand as I leaned over the back of the chair, my hand slipping down her pants with the other, sliding under her hand, hearing the surprised yelp at the contact as my thumb started circling her clit, hard and fast like I knew she wanted when she was close.

  "Rush..." she whimpered, voice catching.

  "This is better than the phone, isn't it?" I asked, lips down by her ear, feeling the tremble as it moved through her body.

  "Yes," she admitted, turning her head into my neck, taking a deep breath as her signature coconut and pineapple scent met my nostrils.

  My fingers slipped down her cleft, pressing inside her. A low, ragged sound escaped me as her walls closed around my fingers, hot, wet, making my cock ache. "You're so tight," I told her as my fingers pressed deep, getting a strangled sound out of her at the invasion. "More?" I asked, flicking my fingers inside her, feeling her hips wiggle in a circle, begging for more.

  "Please," she moaned, thighs pressing tighter together, trapping me even if I had a mind to pull away.

  My fingers started fucking her. There was nothing slow or sweet or explorative about it. The thrusts were fast and hard, driving her up, making her walls get tighter and tighter as her moans got louder, needier, her lips pressing into my neck.

  My fingers curled inside her, raking over her top wall.

  "Oh," she cried out, hand slapping onto the desk as the sensations grew, as she got pushed closer to the edge.

  "You want to come?" I asked, pressing my thumb into her clit with more pressure.

  "Y-yes," she cried, hips writing against my palm.

  "Come for me, baby," I demanded, fingers working her G-spot, thumb pressing hard into her clit. "There," I said when her walls tightened so hard that movement became impossible until the tension released, leaving her pulsating around me as she came. My fingers started thrusting, milking the orgasm for all it was worth as her body convulsed hard once as my name cried out from between her lips.

  "Fuck," I hissed, damn near coming with her without any touch at all.

  "Rush..." she said a moment later, small, shy, overthinking it already.

  "My fingers are still inside you," I told her, feeling her walls tighten at the words. "You're not allowed to start overthinking shit yet," I added, getting a snort/laugh hybrid out of her as she tried to take a deep breath, bring some calm back into her chaotic body.

  There was a long pause—one where I tried to convince myself to get my fingers out of her pussy, but to no success- before her voice came out, small, unsure.

  "That was better than the phone," she admitted.

  "Yeah, it was," I agreed.

  "Are you ok—"

  "Fine," I cut her off, lying through my teeth. I'd never subscribed to the idea of blue balls before in my life, but I was pretty sure mine were going to fucking fall off if I didn't get some relief soon.

  "But you didn't," she tried again.

  "Eager for my cock, aren't you?" I asked, smiling when I felt her walls do the tightening thing again. Sure, she might have been shy, unsure of herself, but her body was sure of one thing; it really fucking liked some dirty talk. "I'm a little old-fashioned, baby. I like to take a woman out for food or coffee before I shove my cock inside her. No matter how hungry her pussy is for it," I added, doing one last flick against her G-spot, smiling when her thighs tightened, before finally pulling my fingers out of her. "And yes," I said before she could start getting her head all worked up over some false scenario. "That was an invitation.

  "A... what?" she a
sked, her chair swiveling so she could face me as I sat off the side of the desk, waiting for her gaze to rise as I slipped my fingers into my mouth, watching the shock and heat play for dominance on her face, liking the mixture more than I could have known.

  "An invitation," I repeated after licking her taste off my fingers.

  "To what?" she asked, blinking rapidly for a second, trying to control her reaction to me.

  "Dinner. I want to take you to dinner," I told her, reaching outward, refastening her pants, knowing she would likely have a freakout about not realizing she left them undone. "Food. Conversation. Where we both pretend we aren't going to go back to one of our places and break the bed," I added, shooting her a smirk.

  "I... you... I mean... you don't have to take me out to dinner."

  "Skip the meal, right to bed, huh? Very forward of you," I teased, making a smile spread.

  "No, I meant—"

  "I know what you meant. And it's ridiculous, so we are just skipping right over it. I wouldn't have asked you to dinner if I didn't want to take you to dinner. So unless you don't want to go to dinner with me..."

  "No... I mean, yes. I want to go to dinner with you," she told me, face flushed and I wasn't sure if it was from the orgasm, from excitement, from shyness, or a combination of all three.

  "Good. That's settled then. I have a case tomorrow night. And then I have Sunday dinner the day after. Monday is a weird as fuck night for a date, but I'm free then." And, if it wasn't clear, fucking desperate.

  "I don't have anything going on," she said, giving me a smile.

  "Perfect then. Tell Fee to bring you something fancy. We can go rub elbows with the mafia at Famiglia."

  "Wait... what?" she asked, brows furrowing. "The mafia? Like... cement shoes, mafia?"

  "I know, you'd never know by looking at the Grassi guys. But they are mob through-and-through. That said, their restaurant is nice and the food is banging. So that's where we are going. Unless you don't like Italian, in which case, we might need to reconsider our compatibility," I teased. To that, her eyes went a little warm and I swear she mumbled something about 'potatoes' under her breath. "What?"

  "Nothing," she said, smiling. "I was just remembering something Fee said earlier. Okay. Famiglia. Dress. What time?"

  "Seven?"

  "Oh, we should probably wait to see if they have a reservation," she said, wincing a bit at the idea of us having to put it off. "My mom and I wanted to go to celebrate her birthday once, but they didn't have any spots. Even two weeks out."

  "Seven, baby," I told her, shrugging.

  "You can't guarantee that."

  "I can. Seven."

  "Rush..."

  "Trust me," I suggested. "Monday night at seven. We can..."

  "Rush, since when do we lock Fiona out of the office?" Kingston's voice called, making Katie jolt hard, sliding the chair further away from me, like there was anything incriminating about our fully clothed conversation.

  "Since she meddles in shit that is none of her business," I called back, waiting for it, knowing it was coming.

  "Just because you two were too chickenshit to work out your problems without some nudging doesn't mean I'm meddling," Fiona called, heels clicking closer.

  Then there they were. Fiona and King, the former looking proud of herself, the latter looking tired, but instantly more interested when his gaze fell on Katie.

  "Think it's too late to call Mark and put more money on this thing?" he asked, making me laugh.

  "Oh, please. If anyone is winning this one, it's me."

  "What are they talking about?" Katie asked in a whisper.

  "I will tell you all about the bullshit they're on over dinner."

  "Oh, you're having dinner," Fee said beaming.

  "Rush said you need to bring me something that works at Famiglia."

  "Oh, fancy. Okay, we will discuss options on the way back to your place," she said, smiling at Katie.

  "Oh, right. Yeah," Katie said, getting to her feet, whimpering.

  "Fee, flat shoes," I called to her.

  "Fiiine," she agreed."Kate, this is Kingston. King, Kate. Okay," Fee said, leading Katie out before Katie and King could even say hello to each other.

  "So, that's her," King said when we were alone again, giving me a smirk.

  "That's her," I agreed.

  "You worked shit out?"

  "Yeah. Mostly, anyway."

  "I don't envy you this weekend," he said, shaking his head in sympathy. "Helen is going to be up your ass about meeting her."

  "She's not ready for that," I said. "I think I'd have to ease her into the group like Ryan with Dusty."

  "Oh, yeah, right. We're a lot when we all get together," he agreed. "And this week, Reagan is the one doing mettling. I swear they are all drinking the same Kool-Aid lately."

  "Reagan is mettling with who?" I asked, knowing Atlas was off the grid, and the only other single members of the family were young to be messed with yet.

  "That woman she works with. And her brother."

  "Should be interesting," I agreed, hanging up the work phone, tucking my cell away.

  "It always is," King agreed. "I'm glad you're working shit out with Kate," he said.

  "Why?" I asked, pausing in the doorway.

  "Because you've been a moody ass since you started here," he told me, smirking.

  "I thought I was hiding it well."

  "Yeah, well, you suck at that," he told me. "Go on. Go home. Get a good night of sleep for a change."

  After I got home, climbed in the shower, and stroked one out to the memory of her wet pussy, I climbed in bed and finally did get a full night of sleep for a change.

  Then spent the whole weekend eager as a kid anticipating his first date, his first fuck.

  It didn't even bother me when the Mallick and Rivers crew ribbed me about my new girl, about what timeframe they'd hedged their bets on.

  I had promised her Famiglia. And while my life had changed a lot since moving to Navesink Bank, and I was no longer a part of the underground world, I was connected to people who were still in the thick of it, calling in a favor to get us a reservation.

  And it was right then that it hit me.

  Something I had never considered before.

  Because things had never gotten even somewhat serious with a woman in the past.

  So it never came up.

  My past.

  What I used to do.

  Who I used to be.

  And because I had never needed to disclose that to a woman before, I had never been in this position before.

  The one where I would be vulnerable.

  Where a woman might decide she wanted nothing to do with me.

  The idea of Katie thinking that was like a kick to the gut.

  But, the more I thought about it, the more likely it seemed. She was a good girl, grew up in a good family, had always done the right things in life. Why the fuck would she want to wade around in the muck of my past with me?

  By the time Monday evening rolled around, I had worked myself into knots over it.

  But then I was at her apartment.

  And she was in the door in that dress.

  And any thoughts about my past, and her acceptance of it, or any thoughts at all completely disappeared.

  Maybe she wouldn't want me past this one night.

  But for just this one evening, I got to have her on my arm.

  I was going to let myself enjoy every moment of that I could.

  TWELVE

  Kate

  I had a date.

  An actual date.

  Not a "Let's hang out," kind of date. A "I want to take you to dinner" date.

  I wasn't sure I even believed those existed anymore. All that old-fashioned gestures seemed to go out the window, replaced with coffee dates and casual sex that might eventually turn into a relationship.

  I was more excited than was probably wise, building everything up in my head, fueled, no doubt, by consuming on
e too many romcoms and romance novels.

  But, I figured, if this ended up in crushing disappointment, at least I had one glorious evening to remember. That was something I wouldn't have seen in the cards for me.

  I hadn't told my mom.

  It wasn't like me to keep things from her, but I just, I don't know, I guess I wanted to just go with the flow for once, not over-analyze it. History had told me, with Rush, overthinking things had only led to upset. Meanwhile, just showing up, just taking chances, just letting things progress naturally had led to all kinds of wonderful things.

  Had I been given even five minutes to think about the phone sex in the office, it never would have happened.

  My mind, I was beginning to truly understand, wasn't always my ally. Sure, it looked out for me, tried to protect me from things. But sometimes, the things that held risk brought the biggest rewards. I needed to remember that, put some faith to rest in that.

  So I didn't share the news with anyone but Fee who decided that none of her dresses would work, and planned for us to have a shopping date.

  It sounded a bit like hell, to be perfectly honest, but this was Fiona we were talking about. She made everything a little more fun, a little more exciting.

  As it turned out, it was.

  She brought coffee and took me to some upscale boutique, Luxe, that was empty save for another set of shoppers, making me a little more comfortable with the event as Fiona breezed around the place, grabbing half the dresses off the racks, then shoving me into one of the dressing rooms, blasting music on her phone as I came out to show her each look.

  It was just like one of the movies I hated as a teenager because those experiences had never been mine, and I couldn't help but feel thankful to Fee for giving me the experience. Even if it was several years late.

  "Oh, oh my God. Yes," she said when I came out with the second-to-last dress on. "That is the one. Kenz?" she called out to the woman who, apparently, owned the store. "Yes, right?" she asked.

  "That's the one," Kenzi agreed. "I'll go pick out some accessories," she added, giving me a smile before rushing off.