The Best Man (Alpha Men Book 2)(31)

Falling was inevitable. But she didn’t care . . . she needed to fall. She wanted to fall. It was her destiny to fall. Hard.

His tongue plunged into her one last time before he dragged it all the way out and latched onto her clit and suckled her. It was the push she needed, and she went tumbling. End over end. Falling from such a great height was dizzying and disorienting and truly amazing. And totally terrifying.

She was crying again. It was getting embarrassing, this crying after non-sex. What was going to happen when they actually did the deed? Was she going to drown the man in her tears? He didn’t seem to mind. He was holding her again, somehow wedging her between the back of the sofa and his massive bulk. Good thing he had man-size furniture, or the thing would never have accommodated them both. It was an inane thought, but it kept her from facing what a wreck this man was making of her.

“Better?” he asked a few long moments later, after her tears had finally dried up. She nodded and buried her face in his hard chest. She wriggled closer and felt his hard penis throbbing against her stomach. So big and hot, it was hard to ignore.

“That can’t be very comfortable,” she observed, and he shrugged.

“I’m a big boy, I can handle it.”

“Yes, you are,” she agreed pertly, stroking her hand over that impressive length so there’d be no misunderstanding her meaning. “But I’d rather be the one to handle it for you.”

He groaned when she slipped her hand under his waistband and wrapped her fingers around that hard, thick length.

“You don’t have to.” He didn’t sound very convincing, and she chuckled.

“I know, and that’s why I want to.” She felt his body ripple at the words and knew that she had scored a direct hit with that one.

“Not right now.” His voice sounded beyond strained, and she rolled her eyes.

“I don’t know why you’re denying yourself. I’m right here. Ready, willing, and able to give you the best damned head you’ve ever had in your life.”

Spencer couldn’t think straight while she had her hand wrapped around him like this. But something felt . . . off, somehow. Like, what the fuck was up with that weird moment earlier? Why would she invite him to fucking strangle her? She had looked terrified and resigned at the same time, so she wasn’t into it. So why the hell would she assume that Spencer was into erotic asphyxiation, for fuck’s sake? It was bizarre. He would love a few minutes in a dark alley with whoever the hell had fucked her up so badly.

Spencer definitely enjoyed Daff more when she was wild with desire and couldn’t control her responses to him. The second she regained her senses, everything she said or did felt practiced. Like she was going through some kind of sexual playbook. He liked that she was experienced, and he definitely enjoyed confidence in a woman. But this didn’t feel confident, it felt rehearsed, and while his cock was more than ready to go, his heart and mind were throwing up huge red flags. He wanted Daff, the real Daff, not whoever this woman with the plastered-on smile was. If he consented to this, it would feel like he was using her, and he wanted her to enjoy everything they did together. He didn’t want her to feel uncomfortable or degraded.

“I have a different idea,” he said, his voice hoarse with strain. “Why don’t we take a shower and watch a movie?”

She gaped at him, her mouth literally falling open as she gawked at him in utter disbelief.

“I don’t understand,” she said, her brow furrowing. “Don’t you want me?”

Oh hell.

“You know the answer to that,” he said gently, pointedly thrusting in her grip and then cursing out loud as the sensation nearly undid him.

“Then why?”

He sighed and sat up, grateful when her fingers loosened around his penis. She withdrew her hand completely and sat up as well, folding her hands in her lap and staring up at him beneath that tumble of gorgeous brown hair. She looked confused and hurt and verging on pissed off. And he couldn’t blame her for any of those things.

“Because,” he answered her baffled question, “I don’t think you actually enjoy giving the ‘best damned head.’ And I know that if I ask you straight up if you like it, you’re going to give me another bullshit evasive answer.”

“I don’t have to enjoy it,” she snapped. “As long as you do. Isn’t that the point of a blow job?”

“Darling, do you think I didn’t relish every fucking second of what I did to you earlier? The taste of you, the way you melted in my mouth, your sounds, your hands in my hair . . . biggest turn-on of my life. I could have feasted all night. Can you honestly say you would have enjoyed reciprocating as much?”

“How should I know? You didn’t give me the opportunity.”

Fair point.

“Daff, if you go down on me, I don’t want it to be because you think you have to. I don’t want you to ever feel forced to do anything. Everything we do here is meant to be for our mutual pleasure.”

“And you’re saying a blow job wouldn’t have given you pleasure?”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it. And while we’re on the subject, what the fuck was that other shit about?”

She flushed and evaded his eyes. “I thought we could try something interesting and different.”

“Fuck that, you were hating every second of it. You did it because you thought you had to, didn’t you? Because you thought I’d like it. You thought I’d enjoy cutting off your air and making you fight for breath. News flash, darling, I can make you gasp without deliberately restricting your fucking oxygen supply. And the thought of hurting you in any way makes me want to vomit. What fucking asshole made you believe that men want to hurt you?”

That seemed to hit the mark, and her lips trembled in her pale face. Her eyes skidded around the room, never once meeting his.

“I don’t think we should do this anymore.”

“Why? Because I’m hitting a nerve?”

“This experiment is over, Spencer. This is more stress than it’s worth. It was supposed to be a little bit of fun for both of us, and you turned it into more than it is. I should have known better than to get involved with you.” She got up and glared at him. “Why couldn’t you just lie back and enjoy what I was offering, like a normal guy? Why did you have to make it weird?”

“I’m not the one who made it weird! Who gave you all these hang-ups?”

“I’m not the one with the hang-ups. What kind of red-blooded male won’t take what I’ve been offering?”

“This kind.” He jerked a thumb to his chest and glared at her, allowing her the height advantage because he didn’t want her to feel intimidated when she already looked like she was close to her breaking point. “You were never completely on board, Daff. Admit it. And to be honest, neither was I. I don’t want a no-strings sex thing. I want strings, lots of strings. I want a chance to get to know you, to spend time with you, to be a couple.”

Spencer wasn’t one for talking much, but sometimes shit needed saying and this was one of those moments. He could be an eloquent fucker when the mood struck, and right now, it was important to let her know exactly what he wanted.

“I don’t want that. Not all women want that. If that’s what you’re looking for, then I’m not the woman for you. I don’t do the normal couple thing, Spencer. I told you. It doesn’t suit me.”

He ran a tired hand through his hair and watched her helplessly. There was really no way forward from this point. He wanted more than he could have, more than she could or would give. So it was time to cut his losses and salvage the situation as best he could.

“We’re going to have to figure out where we go from here, Daff. There’s the wedding to consider.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, hiking the pajama top dangerously high.

“We could just go back to the way things were before all of this madness.”

“No. We should be friends.” He couldn’t believe he was sitting here saying this, while his cock was still at half-mast and he was willing that top to go just a couple of inches higher so that he could enjoy the sight of her nudity one last time. Friendship with this woman was literally the last thing he wanted, but if it was all he could have, then he would take it.

She looked hesitant.

“You can’t just demand friendship.”

“Why not? We get along. Have shit in common. We can be friends.”

“I can’t think straight. Can we talk about this tomorrow? I’m knackered and have to get home.”

“Stay here.” She stared at him like he’d gone off his head, which was fair, since it wasn’t the most practical suggestion in light of the situation.

“No.”

“It’s late.”

“Yes, so I should really get going.” He acknowledged her words with a nod and a sigh. She walked to the front door, picking up her coat—which lay forgotten on the floor—along the way. She shrugged into it before he could assist her and patted her pockets in search of her keys.

“Do you have your phone?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I don’t like the thought of you driving alone at this time of night.”