Up to Me(69)

Like two pieces of a perfectly engineered puzzle, I fit perfectly against him, his hard length sliding between my folds, caressing me, teasing my opening. He crushes my hips to his, reaching down between us to move his still wet fingers over me.

“What would you say if I told you they could see us?” he says, tipping his head to the side, toward the bank of glass to my left. My heart hammers in my chest. “What if I told you the mirror is only effective when the lights are on up here? What if I told you they could see us if they bothered to look up? Would that turn you on?” He pushes his fingers inside me and I feel my body squeeze them, pulling at them, craving the penetration. “Oooo, you like that, don’t you? You like the thought of maybe getting caught, of maybe being seen, don’t you?”

With his hands on my hips, he holds me still, his head poised right at my entrance. “Tell me you like it,” he instructs.

Breathing heavily, nearly ready to beg him, I admit the excitement that he already knows I feel. “I like it.”

Sharply, he pulls me down and flexes his hips, thrusting into me. I can’t stop the cry of pure pleasure that bursts from my lips. “How would you feel about them seeing your beautiful body? Them seeing me licking you and touching you?” As if to make his point, Cash pulls my nipple into his mouth and sucks. Hard.

I slide my fingers through his hair and clench them, tugging him closer to me as he urges my body into a rhythm.

“Do you like the thought of someone watching you ride me? Watching you slide up and down on me? Watching your face when you come for me? Watching your mouth move as you say my name, over and over again?”

His words! Damn him and his words! They make me forget that I care about anything. I can’t think. I can only feel—feel his fingers biting into my hips, feel his mouth at my chin, his lips at my throat, his teeth at my nipple, feel his breath, feel his body driving into mine.

“You like that, don’t you, baby? You like for me to talk to you, to make you tell me things?”

“Yes,” I answer breathlessly.

He braces my hands on his chest as he leans back, flexing his hips beneath me as I ride him, allowing my body to slide down even further over his.

“Oh, damn! So deep,” he moans.

I rise up and fall down on him, feeling each penetration pounding through me. Cash leans back on one elbow and brings his other hand between us to touch me. With his thumb, he rubs me. The air leaves the room and I can’t breathe. I’m panting, saying things, all sorts of things. I don’t even know what kinds of things, but I know they’re dirty things and I know Cash loves it.

“I know that feels good. I can feel you sucking at me, getting tighter. So. Tight,” he breathes. “Tell me you like it.”

“Oh God, I love it.”

“Tell me what you want. I want to hear you say it.”

“I want,” I begin, unable even to finish the thought.

“Say it, baby. Tell me.”

“I don’t want you to stop. I want you to make me come.”

Cash groans and moves his fingers faster, in small tight circles, each stroke ratcheting my body up higher and higher.

“You want me to make you come? I’ll make you come so hard, you can’t say anything but my name,” he forces out through gritted teeth.

Cash sits up suddenly, rolling forward and sliding me beneath him. He grabs one of my legs behind the knee and pushes it up against my chest. Forcefully, he pushes into me. Once, twice and then I’m exploding.

Spasms wrack my entire body, bringing with them a cascade of sensation—wave after wave of it—that I’ve never before experienced. I can’t open my eyes. I can’t find my breath. I can’t move. I can only feel as I hear myself saying Cash’s name. Over and over and over again.





CHAPTER THIRTY- Cash



Olivia is sprawled out on top of me. I rolled us over shortly after we caught our breath so I wouldn’t crush her. I’m sure, to her, I feel like I weigh a ton. Not so at all with her. If it weren’t for her warmth, I’d almost forget she was there. She’s light as a feather.

As she has a habit of doing, she’s tracing my tattoo. She sighs.

“You ever gonna tell me what all this is about?” She sounds contented, satisfied. I can hear it in her voice. She might as well be purring.

“If you look closely enough, you can see all the separate elements of the story.” I take my finger and trace each part as I explain to her what it all means. “These are the flames that burned up that boat. And my life. These are the wings that flew away with the family I once knew. This is sort of my version of the yin and yang symbol, for me and my lost twin. And this rose is for my mother. May she always rest in peace.”