Sweet Fate Page 11

  “Really? How?”

  I wanted to spank her, that’s what I wanted to do, but I settled for stroking her across her waistline, that flat stomach that I so wanted to lick. My paintbrush was bigger than hers, so though she’d gone for my face, my hit felt like it had done the most damage.

  I bit back a laugh of my own.

  Her eyes grew wide. “I can’t believe you did that!” She swiped her arm toward me again, striking out toward my chest this time.

  Reflexively, I dropped my brush and grabbed her wrist before she could hit her target. The shock of my skin against hers was startling, like the whir of a car engine coming back to life after the battery’s been jumped.

  I felt resurrected like that in the moment, like I’d been dead and the touch of this woman had brought me back to life. And all I could think about was kissing her. All I could focus on were her lips.

  I searched for a sign of permission even as I tugged her toward me.

  There wasn’t just one, but multiple invitations—the tilt of her chin, her tongue peeking out and dancing across her bottom lip, her eyes big and dilated under the bat of her lashes.

  I stopped thinking, stopped holding back, stopped pretending I didn’t want her, and pressed my mouth to hers.

  Ten

  The first time I kissed Ellen after I knew that I loved her, my world opened up. She’d said she loved me too, and I knew, I just knew, that we were headed somewhere together, that we were walking down this path hand in hand, and nothing but bright skies and the future lay before us.

  It was a completely different experience kissing Audrey, after I’d accepted the gravity of the feelings I had for her.

  I knew the kiss meant nothing, that it would lead nowhere, but it felt like being bathed in radiant light.

  Like I was an imprisoned man in a dark prison cell who, for one brief moment, was allowed to step outside into the sunlight. I was completely present for it. Each brush of her lips, each touch of her tongue—I memorized it all, imprinted every second into my brain so that I’d have it forever. I might still have worn shackles with no hope of freedom, but this moment mattered. It was real and divine, and I would cherish every last second of the stolen sunshine until my dying day.

  I would’ve been content with only kissing, with just the shallow lifts and falls of her chest and frantic hands trying to caress and cling.

  But Audrey had other ideas in mind, demonstrated by the quick work of her hands at my waist, unbuckling my belt, undoing my trousers, the slip of her hand inside the opening to stroke the outline of my very prominent erection.

  “This,” she said between kisses. She pulled at the elastic waistband of my boxers and dipped her hand in to touch me directly.

  I hissed at the feel of her soft hand against my hot skin.

  “I want this,” she begged. “Can I have this?”

  My cock jumped in her hand at the sweet timbre of her voice asking for pieces of me like she didn’t already own the whole. Could she have this? Could she have me?

  In this moment, yes. She had it all.

  It was too erotic, and I was too close too soon. I grabbed her wrists and pushed her back against the wall, in an attempt to gain control.

  “You want this?” I rubbed my erection against her belly. “You want my cock so I can fill your pussy like no one else does, don’t you?”

  She nodded her head vigorously. “Please. Give it to me, please?”

  It was like dominoes, how things progressed from there, an event put into action that couldn’t be stopped, building momentum in a frenzy of hands and lips and teeth and tongues. I dropped her wrists so I could push up her bra and descend with my mouth upon her sharply pointed nipple. My other hand ventured lower, into her knickers to find the sensitive bud hidden within her folds.

  She was wet, so wet I could smell her. So wet that I couldn’t resist sliding my hand down her slick crease to plunge inside of her.

  “Look at what you have for me.” I pulled my finger out and smeared her juices across her bottom lip. “Such a good girl you are, making your pussy all wet and warm for me.”

  She made a shuddering noise that could only be interpreted as pleasure. While my fingers thrust deeper inside her, I licked across her mouth, a low moan forming at the back of my throat as I rediscovered the wonderful flavor of her desire.

  “You taste like a dirty girl. Are you a dirty girl?”

  “I’m a dirty girl with you. Will you let me come so I can show you how dirty I can be?”

  She’d learned well from our lessons of long ago, telling me exactly what she needed.

  I leaned back to look at her. She was already tightening around my fingers, but I wanted to watch her face tell me exactly how to make her come, wanted to watch her gaze when she fell apart all over me. Her eyes were hooded and pleading. Her cheeks flushed pink. I bent my finger to rub against her inner wall, and her breath became choppy and unsteady.

  I pressed my forehead against hers, letting the bridge of my nose rest against hers. “Show me, then. Show me how dirty you can be and come all over my fingers. If you want my cock, you have to show me how good you’re going to treat it. Show me you deserve it.”

  Her pussy clamped down on my fingers, her body quivering as she let out a strangled cry. Tears spilled from the corners of her eyes. Her mouth froze in a wide O. I pressed my thumb against her clit, coaxing out every last bit of her orgasm.

  As soon as it had made its way through her, she was ready for more.

  “Need this now. Get it out. Need it.” She spoke in short broken sentences while she wrestled with getting my boxers down my thighs. Once my cock was free, she stroked its length with both hands, drawing all the way up with one and following right after with the other. “Let me ride it, Dylan. I want to ride it.”

  I closed my eyes for a handful of seconds, letting the pleasure of her caress shoot through my body and light up every nerve ending. “Such an impatient girl,” I teased.

  But I was impatient too. I needed to be buried inside her, and if she kept tugging on my cock like she was, I was going to be finished before we’d truly gotten started.

  “Get these off,” I ordered, pointing to her shorts. She shoved them along with her knickers down her thighs, stepping out of them and kicking them aside when they reached the floor. She removed her bra when she was done.

  Meanwhile, I stripped the rest of the way from my own clothes, then dug my wallet out of my jeans, searching for a condom.

  “I don’t have a rubber,” I said, stepping away from her. If this wasn’t going to be able to happen, I needed to be farther away from her. She followed after, throwing her arms around my neck.

  “Pill,” she said before kissing me. “I’m on the pill.”

  “I’ll pull out,” I offered instead, pulling her body flush against mine. I’d known of too many women who’d gotten pregnant while on contraception. My need had reached a desperation point, but I couldn’t ruin her life on account of my pleasure.

  “Pull out then. Just. Just put it in.” She locked one leg around my hips and stood on the toes of her other foot, practically climbing my body to get where she needed me.

  Where we both needed me.

  Wrapping my hands under the curve of her ass, I lifted her up and backed up against the nearest wall. She threw her other leg around me, and a few short seconds later, I was inside her.

  I was inside her, bare, with nothing between her and my cock, and she was heaven.

  She was warm and wet and tight—so, so tight. It felt like I was stretching her wider than she’d ever been stretched. Like I was filling her better than she’d ever been filled. Like I was making her into a mold that fit me and only me.

  She bucked her hips up, silently spurring me to move.

  I became two men in that moment—the one who wanted to take his time and tease and taunt and make it last, another driven by blind lust and the need for satiety. Primal instincts won out, and I thrust into her at an unceasing temp
o. I was crazed with my desire. I was the driving beat of a Metallica bassline. I was the prisoner in the yard, chasing the last bits of sunlight, realizing the day was fading into night. I was merciless and mad. I was filled with a love that I couldn’t speak of, a love that drummed inside me, begging to be heard.

  Audrey took what I gave her, clutching onto my neck as she gasped and moaned and interjected directions on how to fuck her. “Deeper,” she’d demand. “Harder. Give me more.”

  I drilled into her over and over, my thighs slapping audibly against her ass as I gave her the deeper, harder, more she asked for, but still it wasn’t enough for either of us. I couldn’t get the right angle. Couldn’t hit the end of her. Couldn’t get deeper, harder, more enough.

  Without pulling out of her, I carried her to the plastic-covered bed and dropped her on top. I climbed over her and took up that wicked pace again. It was easier here. I could really thrust in this position, and with my arms no longer holding the weight of her, my hands were free to play with her pussy.

  She came right away. “Yes, yes, yessss,” she cried, her body clamping so hard on my cock she almost pushed me out. Letting out a grunt, I forced my way back inside, shoving against her wet walls until I was in so far I was sure I was hitting the end of her. I held there, watching as her orgasm rolled over her like a severe thunderstorm, loud and wet and fierce.

  I almost came at the sight.

  Somehow, miraculously, I remembered in time and pulled out of her. I turned away from her and tugged at my cock a few times.

  “No! On me! Come on me.” She sat up and lifted her breasts with her hands, giving me a place to aim.

  What a fucking turn-on she was—with those pouty, swollen lips and a freshly fucked glow on her cheeks, her legs still spread so I could see her juices gleaming on the folds of her pussy, her perfect, firm tits held up for me to mark.

  I came immediately, spurting white ropes of cum across the peaks and valleys of her chest, decorating her with the baseness of my love. Making her dirty and defiled.

  Fucking brilliant.

  With my orgasm, my adrenaline was shot. We collapsed next to each other on the bed. Sweaty and spent, I closed my eyes and waited for my heart to settle. I could hear her next to me, her erratic breathing settling into a rhythm that matched my own.

  “That was...wow,” she said. “Just. Really. Wow.”

  I opened my eyes and looked, not at her, but at the wall in front of me. The wall that showcased her newly painted vines and flowers, as well as an imprint of her backside. I’d pushed her up against the blue wall when I’d finger-fucked her then pressed her to the other wall when I’d had my cock inside her.

  “We made a mess of your art,” I said, nodding toward the silhouette.

  “I like it. I think I’ll keep it.” The plastic crinkled as she rolled to her side and studied me. “Was this why you were avoiding me? Because you were afraid we’d end up in bed together?”

  I turned my head in her direction. There wasn’t an easy answer to that question. Even a simple yes or no would be wrong. Neither word completely explained what I’d been avoiding, what I’d been afraid of. What I was still afraid of.

  “I know I said I didn’t want to confuse things. And I think we’ve both felt the sexual tension building between us. So you stayed away, right? Because you wanted to keep this easy for me. Right?”

  Just nod. Let that be the uncomplicated answer.

  But all I could do was stare at her, my brow furrowed.

  She smiled as though I’d responded. “I appreciate it. But I think it’s a lost cause.”

  Considering that she was covered in my cum and now had sex art on her wall, I had to agree.

  And apologize.

  She’d made her wishes known the first night we’d bumped into each other in London, and while she was giving me credit for honoring her request to just be friends, I’d obviously failed at the task. Both because I’d fucked her anyway, but also because I’d developed feelings that were surely unwanted.

  But before I could find the words—or the nerve—she scooted into me and nestled her head on my chest.

  I put my arm around her, pulling her closer, without even thinking.

  “I should have just told you I’d changed my mind.” Her voice reverberated against me, causing my skin to buzz.

  “What did you change your mind about exactly?” My pulse sped up again, hoping against all hope for something she couldn’t be about to say.

  “That I only wanted to be friends. Obviously.”

  She paused. The silence was filled with the hammering of my heart in my ears. Was she saying…? She couldn’t want to be more than friends, could she?

  “I mean, I still want to be friends,” she continued. “But I think this is okay, too. Fooling around occasionally. It’s kind of perfect, actually. Now I don’t have to worry about my libido landing me in bed with a guy I don’t actually want to go to bed with.”

  There was too much to process. Too much needed clarification. I didn’t know where to start and ended up just choosing the last thing she’d said, the thing that also happened to be the one that hurt most.

  “You still want to date other men, though?” I asked. I needed to be sure.

  “Well, yeah. Of course. I still want the happy ending, and I know you aren’t after that, but maybe that’s what makes this so perfect. You already know that you can do a friends-with-benefits thing and not have it lead to a sticky, complicated mess. I’m the one who has to make sure I don’t get attached—and I was worried I couldn’t in the beginning, which was why I said that sleeping with you couldn’t be an option, and maybe I’m fooling myself thinking I can keep sex and emotions separated, but I want to try.”

  She leaned up so she could look at my face.

  “Do you trust me enough for that? I’m just really attracted to you, and you’re really good in bed, and I can’t bear the thought of constantly trying to talk myself out of jumping you, but I can’t bear the thought of staying away from you either. So if I promise to try really hard, if I promise that any emotions developed are my responsibility and not yours, could we maybe keep doing this on occasion?”

  She was anguished with this dilemma. It was written in her face, layered in her tone. It was a complicated predicament, to be fair, and she thought she understood it perfectly. She couldn’t have surmised the situation as she knew it any better than she had.

  But she was wrong in her breakdown of circumstances. She was wrong in assuming I couldn’t have feelings for her too.

  If I told her, what would it change? If I were another man, if I were a decade younger, if I weren’t someone with enough experience to know that I could never be what she needed, how different would the next part of this conversation go? Would I be man enough to pretend I didn’t care?

  I wasn’t another man, though. I was who I was and that limited my options for response. So, did I tell her I love her and that continuing to sleep with her could be very bad for my heart? Did I tell her and give her the chance to fall for me as well, knowing that as long as we were together, she’d drift farther away from her dream ending of marriage and kids and happiness?

  The day’s events had changed things, that was indisputable. But I still couldn’t stand the idea of ever being the cause of her suffering.

  I could only give her what I could, what she asked for, never mind what it did to me. Never mind how much it hurt.

  “Don’t be silly. I’m not even a little afraid of you falling for me. You have much better taste than that. As for doing this on occasion…” I glanced down at the erection that had started to grow again the minute she’d nuzzled up against me. “I think it’s obvious I’m interested.”

  She followed the line of my gaze and a wide smile broke out across her face. “This arrangement is already working out better than I’d hoped.”

  That smile—that was what made any potential disaster to my heart inconsequential.

  I brought my hand behind h
er head to guide her toward my mouth. Ignoring the tight ache in my chest, I kissed the grin off her lips.

  Eleven

  Amy poked her head in my office and whisper-shouted across the room. “Is it happening?”

  By “it,” she meant the biweekly owner’s meeting that was conducted over Skype. Often, she’d sit in the room during the videoconference, unbeknownst to my partners, just to provide mocking commentary.

  I hit the button on my computer to mute my microphone. “Started about ten minutes ago and everyone’s already arguing.”

  “Oh, tell me!” She hurried in, pulling one of the client chairs from in front of my desk to my side, just out of camera reach.

  “Weston says our numbers are higher than they’ve ever been. Weston’s wife thinks we should open a new office location in Europe. Sabrina thinks we should open a new office in the States. Donovan is preoccupied with something on his mobile, and Nate is…” I turned my head, examining the window on the screen with his face. It didn’t seem like he was in his office, but I couldn’t tell where he was instead. He was using a laptop at a kitchen table, maybe, and his focus seemed to be directed at something in his lap.

  “I can’t figure out what’s going on with Nate.”

  “Got it. Turn it up, will you?”

  I increased the computer volume.

  “We have demand in Europe right now,” Elizabeth said from the top right quadrant of my screen. “Clients are coming both to us and Dylan from Germany, which indicates a hole in the market.”

  “We have demand here too!” Sabrina argued back from the bottom left corner. “We have more than one client that comes from L.A. or Chicago or Atlanta to hire us. New York is farther from all of those places than either Paris or London are to Germany. The need is here.” Sabrina nudged her husband. “Tell them, Donovan.”

  At her prodding, Donovan glanced up toward the camera. “Both Europe and the U.S. present good options for expansion.”

  Weston blinked as though he’d just caught up with the conversation. “Wait. So we’re expanding? We’re just deciding on a whim?”