The Gentleman Mentor(38)

“Not yet, peach. I want you to feel everything I’m giving you.” His dark, hungry eyes lock with mine and everything else fades into the night.

His sense of control is so straightforward and matter-of-fact that I can completely tune out the other noise in my brain, the many nonsensical things one thinks about on a daily basis. Did I turn off the coffeemaker? I should go to the gym later. I need to return those pants that don’t fit.

Turning over all responsibility to this very capable man makes me feel free. All of my insecurities vanish. His touch forces me to stay in the moment and not let my distracted mind wander. He controls everything about my experience. His absolute dominance clears my brain of all the nonsense normally running rampant. It is bliss.

“Hale…” I cry, gripping his butt.

Forcing my hands to the bed, he holds me there. His teeth nip at the delicate skin on my ankle, and he sinks deeper inside me.

With every thrust, he claims his ownership over me. It’s only supposed to be six weeks. So why does it feel like every kiss, every sweet, murmured word means more? Is he really going to let me walk away at the end of this?

“So fucking perfect…” He moans, his body shuddering as he tries to hold off his own orgasm. “Tightest pussy I’ve ever fucked.”

Watching his expression change from dark seduction to one of complete surrender almost undoes me. Knowing I’m responsible for making this big, powerful man’s body tremble and shake causes a rush of pride to rip through me.

When I work my hands free, so I can touch him, he doesn’t stop me. He’s just as consumed by our union   as I am. Pressing my fingernails into his ass, I give in and my second orgasm of the night takes over, dragging me to that pleasurable place where nothing exists but his body buried within mine. A moment later, he lets go and marks me for the second time today.

With my heart pounding in my chest, I tug him down on top of me, holding him close, not caring about the warm, sticky mess between us. I feel his heart slamming against mine, and its bliss. This is what happiness feels like.

This moment is perfect, and I never want to let him go. A therapist would have a field day analyzing why I choose to spend my time with Hale rather than facing my future with Kirby.





Chapter Sixteen


Hale



A therapist would have a field day analyzing my work mentoring needy women. Yet tonight was something else entirely. What I just shared with Brielle is unlike anything I’ve done before. It wasn’t just mentoring; it was more. I lose myself when I’m with her, and it fucking terrifies me.

I scrub my hands over my face, sitting up in bed. After we had sex, I fell asleep with Brielle draped across me. As I rise from the bed, awareness burns inside me that I’ve never fallen asleep at a client’s house. Usually I can’t get out of there fast enough, wanting a hot shower and the comfort of my own bed.

Yet right now, I can still smell Brielle’s scent on my fingers, and I don’t even want to wash my damn hands. She’s marked me, and I know it isn’t something I can simply wash away. My hands, hanging limp at my sides, already miss the feel of her¸ and my mouth yearns for the taste of her. My pulse pounds in my ears as I try to figure out what this all means.

She sits up, tugging the sheet to cover her breasts. “Are you leaving?”

I nod, forcing some composure in my voice. “Get some sleep. We’ll talk soon.”

She reaches a hand toward me. “Not yet. Stay…just a little longer.”

For a moment I think she was going to ask me to stay the night, but we both know that can’t happen.

I remain still, just standing there in her darkened bedroom, trying to figure out what the fuck I’m doing. I should just leave. Grab my pants, my wallet, my keys, and go home. But I don’t. I release a heavy sigh, and when Brielle smiles and reaches out to me, I take her hand and let her pull me back into bed.

“What do you want?” I whisper.

“More.”

“You sure about that?”

“Very,” she says, her tone cheeky and her mouth tugged up in a smirk.

My hand slides between her legs, and her knees automatically fall open for me. She’s learned to embrace her sexuality, and the knowledge that I’ve been the one to lead her there…it’s very satisfying. But it’s the look in her eyes that nearly undoes me. Complete trust. Trust I don’t deserve, but she gives me—freely.

As my emotions roil inside me, I struggle to temper them. I can’t show her everything right now; I don’t want to. Instead I want to savor all of this, save some things that I can show her later so there will be new things to discover years from now. Where the fuck that thought came from, I don’t know, but it’s the honest-to-God truth.