He sits up, depriving me of anything but the ability to look at him. I’m cold where his mouth and hands have been. If he’s going to stop now, I’m going to need a few hours with a vibrator to get over this.
“Take your clothes off.”
His eyes are dark, almost black they’re so blue, and feral. I want him out of control.
“Do it yourself.”
The predatory grin, the curl of his fingers into the blanket turns me on even more. But when he says, “If I have to do it, I don’t think you’re going to like it,” I’m lost. I couldn’t possibly want him more.
I shift and smile, leaning up on my elbows.
“As a matter of fact, I don’t take orders from you.” I lift one hand and lay it over my breast. “I don’t even need you. I have a vibrator and fingers of my own.” His gaze doesn’t waver from my fingers tweaking my nipple, but his breath is shallower, and his smile’s faded. “So, if you want something done, you ask nicely, and maybe I’ll decide I need your help after all.” I keep my voice low and sultry but let my hand drift to the waistband of my shorts then inside.
“Stop.” He pulls my shorts down then kneels between my legs for a second, watching me slide my fingers in and out of my pussy, before he takes me by the wrist and brings my hand up for a lick. He lowers his head and brushes his tongue from my slit to my clit.
I die for a full second from the sheer pleasure before he slides his tongue inside me then back out, replaces it with his fingers, and sucks my clit into his mouth. After four days of teasing myself with his kisses and a few mostly innocent touches, I’m so ready I could explode right now, but I want more. I want everything with him.
He keeps going and I feel like I’ve won. Until, just when I’m about to enjoy the most erotic orgasm of my life, he pulls away.
I whimper. “Please.” I can’t manage words more than that one.
“Please what?” He moves to stand beside the bed, unfastens his belt, then the button and the zipper to his pants. Dear God. There’s nothing this man can’t do without looking like he was born to do it, like a god. And right now, he’s a sex god.
“Please fuck me.” I have never wanted anyone—including him—the way I want him right now. When I try to sit up, he pushes me back. “Let me touch you.”
He cocks an eyebrow and shoves his jeans down. Commando is such a good way for him to go. “Not yet.”
Instead, I can only watch as he strokes his cock from base to tip. Oh, God. He’s long and thick, ready, dripping, and I want him inside me. I turn sideways and capture him between my thighs. He runs his free hand along my leg and tries to move it, but I’m strong and he’s one-handed. I hang on.
The power play is real. Neither of us is willing to give in.
But then he grabs my hips and flips me on my stomach. With the other hand, he pulls my ass high in the air, finds the wetness between my thighs, and swipes teasingly across my aching clit.
“Do you think you’re in charge here, Corrie?”
I gasp. Not because he’s naked in front of me, or because he said my name in that slow, sweet way I’ve always loved, but because I’ve wanted him for so long—more than the few days I’ve been here—and now I have him. All I have to do is submit.
“I want you,” I whimper. “Please.”
As I sit up, he leans forward and kisses me, soft and sweet then hard and wild as he pushes me down. “Get further on the bed.”
He unwraps a condom and sheathes his cock. I stay on all fours and lean my hips back towards him, arching my back as far as it will go. I am breathless before he’s even entered me. I’ll do anything he wants me to do if he’ll please just slide inside me, fill me up, make me his.
He rubs the head of his cock at my entrance in a slow, smooth motion. It doesn’t satisfy anything. All it does is crank the heat inside me up another notch.
“Tommy, please,” I’m begging.
Then he drives inside me and I gasp, hold the breath, and let it out on a sigh. “Oh, God. Oh, fuck.”
He kisses my shoulder, then my throat, then my upturned mouth, all the while thrusting his hips so that his dick fills me.
He flips over and I sit up, ready to control the moment, to draw it out until neither of us can take it. And that is the plan—until he thrusts up and I’m left hanging on, using my legs to brace myself as he pushes his cock deep inside me.
I shatter, moving my hips, taking all of him until he powers into me again and grunts, then sits up to hold onto me from behind, my back against his chest, while we’re both riding the waves.
He comes too, with a guttural roar right in my ear. His teeth clamp down on my bare shoulder. Our breath mingles, hot and desperate.
I know the exact moment he regrets it.
His body goes rigid then his hands fall away and he looks at the wall. Even if I hadn’t known him most of my life, I would still know what regret looks like on his face.
I lift myself off him and begin the search for my clothes. But I swear to God, if he apologizes to me, only one of us is going to make it out of the room. Before I’m even close to being dressed, he’s at the door, still naked and walking out.
“Hey, Corrie … I’m …”
I look up, fully prepared to claw his eyes out. “You’re what?”
He sighs. “I’m glad you’re here. As fucked up as everything is.”
It’s not at all what I expected him to say. And he’s right—things are fucked up. My fiancé is dead to me, my ex-lover has reappeared as a grim reaper mobster, my life is in shambles. Who the hell knows what’s going to happen next?
But despite all that, if I’m being honest…
I’m glad I’m here, too.
10
Tomas
Corinne is humming. She’s in the bedroom, packing to go home, and she’s fucking humming. Like she’s happy to get out of here and away from me. Like the last three days of sleeping in my bed with me and waking up in the middle of the night to fuck and suck and cling to each other mean nothing to her.
On the other hand, she’s humming, which means she’s leaving. I should be dancing on the ceiling. With Corrie gone, I can get back to my normal life, take care of business, and not worry about what she’s going to say when I get home. I won’t have to think about the feelings churning in my gut when I look at her. Technically, since I won’t be looking at her, there won’t be feelings to ignore. I’ll be able to tell myself that I’ve remained unfazed and stoic through all of this.
That’s my story.
But in the wee hours of morning, when I watch her sleep; in the later afternoons, when she’s sitting in my library reading and doesn’t know I’m watching her; in the evenings, when we’re eating together and I’m pretending I finally have all the things I’ve ever dreamed of—that’s when I’m weakest for her.
Her leaving is the best thing. For her. For me. For my marriage to Katerina.
All that aside, I’ve arranged to have a couple of my guys follow her. That makes a total of four assigned to this burgeoning mistake. Two trailing the asshole she married and two watching her around the clock.