Nights With Him(87)

He shook his head. “I won’t,” he muttered on an upstroke that had him trying to rock faster into her hand.

“Jack,” she warned, thrilling at giving him an order. “I can’t have you coming too soon. You need to hold back.”

Nodding, his mouth fell open, his breathing intensifying as she upped her pace. He moaned and grunted, and his sexy, masculine sounds of impending pleasure ignited her insides. She used both hands, one to grip his glorious cock that slid in and out of her tight fist, the other to play with his balls.

“You want to come so badly, don’t you?” she asked. A spark raced through her body and lit up her mind as she turned the tables on him. This role reversal did wonders for her insides, physically and emotionally. It let her retrieve those dangerous words, and wind them back up inside her, as if the moment from last night had been rewound. As if the messy threat of emotions and feelings and falling too far could be stuffed neatly back into a closed drawer.

It could. Surely, it could, as she used their physical connection to return them to the world they inhabited—thirty nights of pleasure. The end was in sight.

“Yes.”

“Tell me you can wait,” she said.

“I can wait,” he choked out, as if it pained him.

“I’ll get you there. But you have to do it my way,” she said. He completely gave himself over to her, his eyes pinned on her as he rocked into her hand.

She tugged on his balls, teasing and pulling in just the way he liked, and jacked him harder and rougher. His eyes went glassy; his chest rose and fell quickly. He thickened even more in her grasp. His entire shaft was throbbing against her hand that raced up and down his long, hard length. Watching the expression on his face shift from pleasure to intense concentration, she knew he was reaching the edge. She wanted to send him off in a flurry of white-hot sparks.

“I need you to come now,” she said, her voice a command.

He groaned, a primal sound, and she moved her other hand under his balls, rubbing that spot that drove him even crazier, then pressing the tip of her finger against his ass. Not entering, but teasing, hinting.

That was all it took.

He scrunched up his brows, thrust harder and groaned loudly as he came all over her hand.

There was something about this moment that was completely necessary for Michelle’s sanity. Without it, she wasn’t sure if she could go on with him. But she’d taken back some of the control she’d lost last night.





CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO


New

Visiting the Grand Colbert was like taking a trip back in time to an earlier Paris. Like a scene from the 1920s, the landmark restaurant lived up to its hype from the soft, golden lights to the green leather seats, to the lampposts positioned all throughout the establishment that hearkened to an earlier age. The entire restaurant was bathed in a soft orange-yellow glow.

He’d called ahead that afternoon to secure the very same table made famous in a scene in Something’s Gotta Give. It was the best table in the restaurant.

They had finished eating, both of them ordering the signature chicken dish, and he poured a third glass of wine for Michelle. She held up a hand when her glass was half full.

“That’s all you want?”

“I want to be relaxed and all loosened up, but not drunk,” she said, sliding closer to him. They were on the same side of the booth. He couldn’t stand to be far away from her, and he’d had his hands on her all throughout dinner. On her shoulder, in her hair, on her leg.

“That gift should have you all loosened up,” he teased, pretending to peer at her backside.

Knowing she was wearing one of his toys all throughout the meal had made it nearly impossible to concentrate on anything she said. He’d done his best, though, and they’d chatted about their travels, the places they’d been, the places they wanted to go, and many other topics. The whole time his mind kept drifting downward to her body, and forward to later tonight.

A few times she’d seemed to want to talk more, and had even mentioned last night. She’d seemed so carefree when she said those words, as if all that was said and unsaid was no big deal. Maybe it wasn’t a big deal that he hadn’t returned her words twenty-four hours ago.

Last night.

Big deal or not, those two words still felt heavy, like a brick weighing him down. He didn’t want to fuck up this night, or last night, or any other night. He feared that if he said anything else, if he revealed too much or too little, that he’d simply say the wrong thing.

That fear of fucking up had him in its clutches; it was gripping him, holding him tenaciously in a tight fist. He felt more for this woman next to him than he’d ever felt for Aubrey, which was at once a beautiful realization, and also a cruel punch in the gut. Comparing Michelle to Aubrey made him feel like complete shit. His lack of enough feelings for Aubrey had led to the worst thing possible. The fact that he felt anything should be a weight lifting, but it dredged up all the self-loathing that he thought he was finally letting go, thanks to these nights with her.