Boyfriend Bargain(37)

I turn to face her, and her eyes are bright with unshed tears.

“Don’t cry for me.”

She shakes her head. “Ignore me and just keep talking. Tell me about Willow.”

I freeze, and here it is—the opportunity. I swallow. “She was pretty and outgoing. She wanted to move to Hollywood and be an actress. Everyone loved her because she lit up a room when she walked into it.” My hands clench in my lap, trying to work up the nerve to finish.

Sugar holds my gaze, sincerity there. “I’m sorry.”

I close my eyes. Sugar has a way of saying the simplest things and they are just right. She doesn’t have to elaborate.

I ease down to lie back on her bed, and several minutes go by as we hold each other. My head—shit, my brain is urging me to tell her the one thing I’m holding back, the one thing that’s going to slay her when she finds out…

But maybe she’ll never know, I think as my hand rests on her stomach, flicking her belly ring.

“Z,” she whispers huskily as she squirms under my hands, her voice breathy. “I’m not sure if this is the right time, but…”

I flip over until she’s underneath me and I’m lying between her legs, my jeans already tight.

She’s pliant, her skin soft as silk as I remove her camisole and expose her breasts. Soft and round and creamy, they quiver as she breathes, her gaze daring me to take what I want.

I trace my fingers over the outline of her face and kiss her, my tongue dueling with hers, dancing and sparring until the past is gone, until all I see in my head is her. “Fucking you is everything.”

“Poetry, Z. Pure poetry.” She gives me a hot look and licks her upper lip, and I groan and take her mouth again as she says, “Fuck me. Please.”

“I love it when you talk like that. I’ll never get enough.” I suck on her tits, palming them. “I had a physical after my anxiety attack. I’m clean. Are you on something?”

“I’m on the pill, and I’m also disease-free.” She bites her lip. “I got tested after I broke up with Bennett.”

“Don’t say his name,” I growl and shove down my jeans and fight with them until they’re finally at my feet. I give them a good kick off to the floor.

Looking back at her with her blonde hair everywhere, my body quakes, throbbing with desire.

“Julia’s working,” she says as I slide my hand inside her shorts and find her pussy dripping wet.

“Too bad. That closet was hot,” I say, watching her squirm under my touch. She’s writhing, biting her lip, and her tits bounce as she moves her hips to keep up with my finger moving into her.

I can’t breathe for the thought of my bare dick inside her. Fuck, this intensity with her is scary, so new, and what if I do it wrong? What if I messed up already from the get-go with my lie of omission?

“What’s wrong?” she says, and I come back and kiss her.

“I don’t want to scare you, but I want you rough.” I bite my bottom lip on purpose and give her a heavy-lidded look. I know she likes it. “I want to hold you down so you can’t move. I want to make you come hard while I fuck you…”

Her eyes dilate.

I suck her nipples, moving from one to the other.

“I like it.” She moans as I bite down. “Do it. Do whatever you want, but I refuse to use coconuts as a safe word.”

My cock jerks and I laugh.

“Put your hands up around the headboard,” I say, and she does, excitement flashing across her face. Naked, I get up and dig around in her closet, find the scarf, and tie her wrists to the bed. Slowly, I pull her underwear off and suck in a deep breath as I take her in, her body open and ready. My hand drifts down her skin, from the curve of her beautiful face to the tips of her toes. She vibrates and groans when I stroke inside her.

“Z…”

“Shhh, don’t say anything. Don’t move. Just let me make you come.”

She blushes and nods, seeming to get that I need dark and rough and different and then…then…she will always be mine. I don’t know why I think that, it’s just that she’s so ready for anything I want. I don’t normally engage in sex like this, but I’ve always wanted to, and when it’s with her, it means trust. She trusts me and that means something to her.

I see the openness on her face, a transparency that makes me want to shout to the world. She knows about my anxiety and she doesn’t think any differently of me.

“Just tell me if you want me to stop,” I say as I get on the bed. I push her legs together and up to her chest, parting them just a little as I position her upper thighs until they rest against her torso. It’s a confining position, but she allows the awkwardness.

“Feel like a pretzel?”

She nods.

“I’ll make it feel good,” I growl.

“I know.”

Kneeling over her, I turn her hips so they’re pointed to the wall. I hold her prisoner with one forearm on top of her then crouch down, turn, and run my tongue over her sex, the folds pink and stretched and open to me. I lap at her, the taste perfect as I tongue her clit. She gasps and squirms against my mouth.

“I could spend all night in this one spot,” I say. “I’ve thought about you every day since the Kappa party. I sit in my classes dreaming of ways to fuck you, how to make you come, how to make sure you never want anyone but me.”

She moans.

“I think about how much I want to teach you everything you don’t know, and I want to erase every guy from your head.” The fingers of my free hand explore her sex, working her until she’s gasping. “You’re mine and I want…”

Her—so goddamn much that it terrifies me.

She arches her hips for more but can’t really move. Her tits are under her folded legs, but my insistent finger reaches up and finds her nipple, pinches it, tugging it down. She groans, her face reddening as I alternate between her breasts and tonguing her sex from top to bottom. My thumb traces the outline of her rosebud, tapping and using the wetness to dip inside. She’s hot and gasping, her head tossing on the pillow.

My eyes take in her every nuance, the little things I’ve come to expect when we’re together, the warm scent of her skin, the way her hair gets in her eyes and she blows it away, the way her body hitches when I touch her pussy. I lick her again and suck her clit into my mouth. Her name is a litany on my lips as I play with her, and I tell her how beautiful she is and how much I love how she tastes. She lets out a deep groan and comes, her body barely able to move as she spasms, clenching around my fingers.

I rise up and hover over her, my arm pressing her down on the bed. “Hang on.”

My cock pushes inside her and goes to the hilt, her sheath slick and sweet, earth-shatteringly tight with her legs pressed together. “So perfect.”

She pants, her body quivering.

I come back out and slide right back in, picking up the pace, my free hand kneading her hip and pinching her nipple as I fuck her, and it’s all me because she can’t move. I hold nothing back, pistoning in and out until the bed scoots on the floor, giving her everything I have left from the deluge of emotions we’ve built up in these past weeks.

My fingers dig into her skin, and the sounds of our sex and her pleading moans build and build, and I feel the tingles in my spine as my hips hit a deep, sweet spot that makes me tremble.

“Z,” she calls out as her body clenches around mine again, and my length hardens, expanding.

I don’t want to come. Not yet. I want to keep taking her, owning her. I love the control. I love that she’s looking at me like I’m her whole world.

I swivel my hips in, going deeper and her lashes flutter against her cheek.

“Z,” she moans, her hands gripping the bedpost.

I lean down and take her mouth and her tongue sucks mine and that’s all it takes. Sweat drips from my face as I roar my release and collapse on top of her then quickly roll away, not wanting to squash her. I reach up and untie her hands, and neither of us speaks, only a quiet hush in the room along with our bellowing breaths. I lean over and look at her outstretched legs, and her skin is tinged red from where my forearms pressed against her. I touch them softly and kiss the lines. I work my eyes over her body, seeing fingerprint marks on her hips and breasts. I lick her nipple.

“Will it bruise?” she asks.

I look up at her. “I don’t know.” I’ve never held a girl down before.

“I’m up for more,” she says, and I huff out a laugh, not knowing how to tell her that doing this with her is the most intimate experience I’ve had with a girl.

I kiss each mark and crawl back to where she’s lying on the pillows. I lie down and she rolls over, easing into my embrace as if she’s done it a hundred times. I rock us, I don’t know why, and I kiss her, exploring the warm recesses of her mouth as if she were a fine piece of china.

Finally it’s her who breaks the silence. “Z…is it…is it always like this with you?”

“Look at me.”

She does.

“Let me set this straight in case there’s any question about how many girls I’ve had or this whole girl-of-the-month thing that keeps popping up. It’s a rumor people like to perpetuate because of who I am. I date girls and we break up and I really don’t think about them much again. This isn’t that. You aren’t them. Never in a million years.”