Boyfriend Bargain(29)

I tug at a strand of his hair. “I like how you look at me like you might die if you don’t fuck me.”

His lashes flutter. “I like it when you say fuck.”

“Fuck me then,” I say. “Quietly.”

“That’s going to be difficult. You call out my name…a lot.” His voice is raspy.

“Put your hand over my mouth.” My chest rises with a shiver of excitement.

“My pleasure.”

Need vibrates inside me, and part of me wonders if I should be ashamed of my brazenness, but I shove those thoughts away. We’ve gone this far, and I’m a woman and he’s a man, and this is the best sex I’ve ever had.

His shoulders rise and fall as he stares at me, ghosting over my hair and face. He cups my breast, flicking his finger over my nipple.

“Please,” I whisper, not ashamed to beg. Tomorrow I’ll worry about why he has this control over me, but right now, I just want him.

“Turn around and lean over the fridge,” he whispers. “I’ve been dreaming about taking you from behind.” I do as he says, facing the wall, and my legs tremble in anticipation as he parts them with his knee, his chest against my back. “Press your hands against the back wall and hang on.”

He gently traces his fingers down my skin and outlines the cameo with the white lily inside that’s in the center of my back. I shiver.

“I love your tattoo.” He reaches around, pushes my shirt up, and cups my breasts. I groan at his touch.

Then he worships me.

His lips and hands are everywhere in the quietness and small space, pushing my hair over my shoulders and sucking on the skin on my back, playing with the curve of my elbow and then tracing his hands down to my legs. He bites me tenderly and I quiver. My body ignites. Again. So ready, so open. I’ll do anything with him.

“Put your ass up more,” he whispers as he crouches behind me on his haunches, and I obey, gasping when I feel his tongue on me, licking me. His fingers spread me apart and he devours me, touching me, making me moan his name.

“Shhhh,” he whispers against my skin, his tongue hot, so hot against my skin.

When I’m a dripping mess and whimpering, aching to come, he finally stands and strokes down my back.

“I’m going to fuck you slow, Miss Ryan.” His hand covers my mouth, giving me just enough room to breathe, and I quake with excitement, needing him inside me.

Moving to adjust, I’m standing on tiptoe as he slides inside, his fingers on my clit, playing me in tune to his thrusts.

A long groan escapes his lips as he picks up speed, one hand over my mouth and one on my hip. “I love this,” he grunts in my ear. “I feel you around me, and this is the best thing I’ve felt in a really long time. I could fuck you for days without ever stopping. I don’t know why it’s so good, but….” His voice trails off as he clutches my hips, his fingers a brand on my body.

I tighten my walls around him and he lets out a groan, mumbling my name and several adjectives about my anatomy under his breath.

He’s incoherent.

And I want more.

My legs are near collapsing, but I don’t want this to end. I can barely breathe and I groan as his hips twist to get a deeper angle.

He growls, moving his legs to get a better position inside me. “You make me feel on top of the world when I fuck you. I can win a championship inside you. I could run the whole fucking world.” His voice is guttural as he goes deeper. “I want this pussy tomorrow and the next day and the next. Do you hear me?”

I nod, my juices dripping down my legs.

“I’m going to make you see stars.” He rubs his thumb across my bum, applying the tiniest bit of pressure there until I squirm.

“You like this, Miss Ryan?” he whispers.

I nod, breathing around his hand.

His wet finger presses inside me, just a little, and then back out. He plays there, so soft, so gentle, until I feel weak. I sway on my feet and his hips stop moving, his length twitching inside me as he adjusts me. Heavy breathing and silence fill up the closet and, shit, I want so much more. I wiggle back at him.

I picture how I must look, bent over and legs apart, my mouth covered by his hand, ready and open for anything. I yearn to see him, to look at his face, to pull on his hair, but right now, I want him moving inside me.

I moan deep in my throat, and he growls behind me, his lips brushing my shoulder as he picks up his pace again, sliding out and back in, excruciatingly slow.

His finger is back and goes in more, slipping inside me deeper and rubbing, tightening everything until I feel every ridge and vein in his cock. Sharp tingles ripple over me, and my mouth opens, gasping as he plays there, going deeper each time as he thrusts.

He lets out a curse and the hand around my mouth loosens and traces the curve of my cheek before trailing down my back and landing on my hip. I don’t know why. Maybe he’s losing control just like I am.

He takes my hips and owns me. Time seems to stand still as he grinds against me, twisting his hips and I…I…I can’t think. Is it always like this with him? I want to give him everything. I want to…

He whispers my name over and over…and I know…I know he’s right there with me. This can’t be how it always is. Can’t be.

“Mine,” he grunts and slides into me, and it’s such a stereotypical male thing to say, but with him, shit, it’s real and the alpha in him is electric, something I didn’t even know I wanted.

Z…he’s not like anyone I know, and in that closet, I see it. I see that he’s so out of my league, intense and raw and a hot flame, and I know—I just know I’m going to get burned. Like a moth to a flame, I’m going to be incinerated, I’m going to cry someday, but right now, I don’t care. I’ll take it.

The slapping of our bodies, the sound of our sex, the dark confined space, and the fact that Julia might be able to hear us—it sends me over the edge.

I burst apart inside that closet. I see stars and rainbows.

He speeds up, his thrusts alternating between hard and soft, rough and teasing, and I stand up higher and higher on my toes, and I don’t mind because he is all that matters and I want him to let go and get that high just like I did.

He lets out a deep groan and goes over the cliff with me, grunting and sweating against me. It’s dirty, so dirty and out of this world, and I tremble from knowing I could turn right back around and do the whole thing all over again.

A few seconds later, my hands are numb from pressing against the wall and I’m a mess as he turns my shoulders around, takes my chin, and stares down at me. His chest is going crazy, gasping for air, and he doesn’t say a word but leans down and kisses me softly, so softly, his tongue flicking against mine as if I’m fragile and might fall apart. I sag against him and for some reason, tears prick at my eyes. I blink them away furiously.

I see the medallion on his chest and I focus on it, wondering why I’ve never noticed him wearing it before.

“Nothing gold can stay,” he whispers as he hugs me, and for some reason, the depth of emotion in his gaze before we embrace…it scares me even more than the sex we just had.

I send up a silent prayer.

Please, don’t let whatever this thing is between us…don’t let it hurt me…or him.





24





Sugar





I wake up the next day and my first thought is I need ten cups of coffee and a whole lot of Jesus. What have I gotten myself into with Z?

I’m barely functioning in my classes after spending the early hours with him. He left my closet, got dressed, both of us silent, our thoughts to ourselves. Perhaps it was because Julia was asleep, but when I walked him to the stairwell, the tension was thick. I don’t know why except that we were tired and a lot has happened between us in a short time.

After changing into ankle boots, skinny jeans, and a cute leopard print sweater, I put my hair up in a sleek ponytail and head to BB’s to check in on Mara and see if she needs any help manning the bar tonight. I don’t do it on a full-time basis, but if it’s going to be a busy night, I’ll jump in.

It’s around four when I walk into the bar. Dimly lit with a three-sided runway for the dancers, it’s your typical strip club, but you can be sure it’s spick and span. Mara is also a stickler about only employing girls who are drug-free.

Def Leppard is blaring as I waltz past the runway. My eyes take in the girls already up there, doing their thing for the early crowd. Most of the patrons are businessmen, and there’s maybe a professor or two since BB’s is only a few blocks from HU. My gaze gets hung up on the familiar curve of the profile of the girl currently sliding down a pole.

I stop in my tracks.

What the hell?

I march over to the front runway so I can get a good look at the petite, bosomy girl who’s currently got her eyes closed as she cups her breasts, gyrating to the music. She’s wearing a silver lamé corset, fishnet hose, and platform metallic shoes—one of the stock outfits Mara keeps for the new girls who don’t have the money to get their own things yet. A guy in an expensive grey suit is watching her with a hooded expression on his face as he sips on a drink.

I move in closer to make sure I’m not crazy.

Holy cow.

“Julia?” My mouth opens. “What the hell?”