One of the most incredible things about a woman is her ability to come multiple times. I can make her orgasm like this, and she’ll still be able to come again through sex. If you give a guy head, and he gets off, he’ll need a little recovery time. Hell, some guys would be out for the count.
“Slade,” she moans, letting me know how good it feels.
Fuck right it does, but there’s an art to this. If you’re too soft, it’s more like a tickle. If you’re too hard, you’ll hurt her. You can’t just focus on her clit either. The lips are just as sensitive. And a little massage of her inner thighs never hurts.
Her muscles start to clench over and over again, a sure sign she’s getting close. All I can think is no. As much as she’s ready to come, I don’t want this to end.
“Please don’t stop doing that,” she begs.
No way I can slow down now. Pushing her thighs open wider, I devour her. If this is going to be over quick, I’m going to get my fill. Her hand flies up, grabbing a pillow and biting down on it, her muffled scream the most satisfying sound on the planet.
I suck down on her, determined to take every last ounce of her pleasure. Her body writhes on the bed, her legs kick out, but I don’t stop until she stops quivering beneath my mouth.
Her body falls limp, her legs collapse open. Using her inner thigh as a pillow, I stay right where I am, planting feather-light kisses around her folds, hoping for another spark.
She looks down at me with a fully satisfied smile on her pink lips. “Don’t make me leave this spot,” I beg in a whisper.
Arching her back in a little stretch, she moans quietly, “Okay.”
And we start all over again.
*
“Just one more,” I plead, knowing she’s tired but wanting to watch her come for me one more time.
She laughs, shaking her head at me and cuddling into my side, a clear sign she’s spent. We basically spent the night trading orgasms. Sex can be a lot of things—romantic, robotic, angry, slow, fast, hard, soft.
Tonight was pure fun.
Even though technically we never had sex, it was still the best night I’ve ever spent in bed with a woman.
“I think I can get used to this eight o’clock bedtime thing,” I say, squeezing her tighter and listening to her drift off to sleep.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
SLADE
I wake up to the smell of bacon. A satisfied Paige equals bacon for breakfast. That’s good to know. Throwing on some sweatpants, I walk downstairs, finding Paige at the stove and Finn on a blanket on the floor. Definitely need to get him a new high chair.
“Morning,” I say, kissing Paige on the cheek, then picking up Finn. “I must’ve done something right if I’m getting bacon for breakfast.”
She flashes me a look over her shoulder. “Several somethings right,” she teases as she walks over and puts two plates down, one for each of us. I don’t want her to think she has to cook for me. “Looks good. Tomorrow, breakfast is on me.”
“I like cooking,” she says, smiling at me.
Adjusting Finn so he can’t reach my plate, I take a bite of toast. It’s just a simple meal of toast, bacon, and eggs, but Paige is a good cook. Paige reaches for her orange juice, and our brief conversation from last night flashes in my head. “You never answered my question last night.”
“What question?” she asks.
“The pill? Are you on it?” No man likes to wear condoms even though I always do, so I’m really hoping I won’t have to with Paige. “I figured with Finn and all, you’d be extra careful.”
“I am,” she says quietly, getting up from her chair even though she’s barely had two bites.
For some reason unknown to me, I’ve struck a chord with her. I know birth control can be a tricky topic sometimes, but this is more than that.
“I should get Finn his applesauce,” she says.
“He’s fine,” I say. “You’ve never told me much of anything about his birth or your pregnancy. How you found out?”
“Slade.” She says my name like a warning, like I’m about to step on a landmine.
“I thought most women like to talk about that stuff. God knows, Catrine has told me about everything from her hemorrhoids to accidentally peeing on herself.”
She sits back down, taking Finn from me. “He was actually born almost three weeks early.”
“Catrine says first babies are usually late,” I say.
“Not Finn,” she says.
“Were you scared? Alone?” I ask, more than curious about his father since Paige hasn’t uttered one word about him.
“Finn was a home birth,” she says.
“You didn’t go to the fucking hospital?” I bark, not meaning to sound as pissed as I am. She or Finn could’ve needed a doctor.
Her head shakes. “No hospital.”
“Anyone with you?” I ask, my fishing expedition in full force.
“My mom,” she says, looking down at her hands.
“I thought you said . . .”
“Slade,” she says, getting to her feet. “Please don’t make me lie to you.”
*
Asking Paige a question should not back her into a corner so far that she feels like she has to lie to me.
I’m in a tough spot here. I know if I push, I run the risk of losing her. But I’m not a pushover, and I hate the idea of her keeping things from me. I told her things that I’ve never told anyone. Shouldn’t she want to do the same? I want her to trust me enough to be able to tell me anything. I know trust is earned and takes time, and things between us have moved quickly, but my gut tells me something else is going on with her.
She comes downstairs dressed and ready to go to the ranch. I’m supposed to be staying in the city, going to my office. This is supposed to be our mutual introduction to our new schedule, but we need to get a few things straight first.
Without so much as a glance my way, she starts to buckle Finn in his car seat. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Paige!” Her name comes out harsh. “I’m not asking you to name his father. Even though I wish you’d trust me enough to tell me.”
“Why do you think you have the right to know anything about Finn or me?” she snaps back.
They say some people wear their heart on their sleeve. Well, Paige wears hers on her sleeve under a coat of armor, some barbed wire, and a few explosive devices. Clearly, I’ve stepped on one of her trip wires. The thing is, I don’t always see them or know where they are. Paige is not an easy woman to figure out. With her upbringing, I know she’s kept herself guarded. I get it. But I want her to understand that she doesn’t need to be that way with me.
“Because I love you both.”
“So you think love gives you certain rights?” she asks, grabbing her purse and diaper bag, preparing to flee.
“Yes.”
“You’re unbelievable!” she barks, trying to head for the door. I block her path. Staring me down, she asks, “We haven’t been together that long. You’re telling me I know every detail about you? There’s nothing that you’re hiding, leaving out?”
Fuck, she’s stubborn. I’m sure she’s used to wearing people out with her defensiveness, but she’s met her match with me. I’m as stubborn as they come. “I’m sure you don’t know everything about me, but there’s nothing I’m intentionally not telling you.”