by Cathryn Fox
“On your knees, Peyton.”
I drop and put my knees on the towel. I brace my hands on my thighs and open my mouth for him.
“Have you done this before?” he asks.
“Are you asking if I’ve ever sucked your cock before?” I say.
“Hell, Peyton. Do you always have to be a smart-ass?” I grin. The truth is, there’s a storm going on inside me, and I hide behind humor. His face softens. “Peyton, do you want this?”
“I’ve never sucked your cock before, or any cock,” I say. “But I want this.”
He tugs my bottom lip between his fingers and slides his thumb into my mouth. “Suck,” he says, and I do. His resulting growl is a good indication that he likes what I’m doing. A thrill goes through me. He yanks his thumb from my mouth and wraps his palm around himself.
“Hell,” he growls when I moan. “That is so hot,” he murmurs, and strokes himself. His cock hovers near my mouth as he fists himself, long hard strokes that show me what he likes. “Spread your legs. I want to see your pussy,” he says.
Hands still on my knees, I widen my legs, and he strokes himself from base to tip as his hot gaze caresses every inch of me. “Do you hate what you see?” I tease.
“Yeah, I can’t stand it.” A couple long strokes over his cock and then, “Open your mouth.”
I whimper and do as he says. Putting my hands on his thighs, I wait for him to feed his hard length down my throat.
“You want this in your mouth, Peyton?”
“Yes,” I say.
His eyes squeeze shut for a brief second, and it’s easy to tell he’s fighting for his control. “Are you going to hate it?”
I swallow as his lids flicker open and he stares down at me. “I am,” I say.
“What else do you think you’ll hate?” he asks, circling and teasing my mouth to open more.
“I’ll probably hate spreading my legs wide for you and letting you put this hard cock in my pussy.” Lord, I’ve never said anything quite so dirty before. It almost brings a giggle to my throat.
“Are you going to hate me wrecking you?” he asks, his voice thick, heavy with need.
“Uh-huh,” I say as he pulses against my mouth, reducing me to a hot, quivering mess dying to taste him. His hips power forward, his body flexing, and he finally offers me an inch. I moan around his length and he grabs my hair, his fingers bunching in my curls.
“That’s it,” he groans.
I tighten my lips to suck, sealing them around his bulging veins. While I’ve never done this before, one thing is for certain, I hate it. Yeah, I hate it so goddamn much I want to take him even deeper. I want him to spurt down my throat. I want to taste every drop of his release, knowing it was me who made him this hard, this aroused.
I grip him in my hand, feasting on him like it’s my goddamn job, and his breathing is so ragged and rough, his male scent that much sharper as he fights release.
“Enough,” he says, and I whimper when he pulls from my mouth. “Get on that bed and spread your legs. Let’s see how much you’ll hate it when I’m inside you.”
My legs are so rubbery, it’s all I can do to stand up, get myself on the bed and spread my legs wide. He growls as he lets his gaze roam the length of me. Then he walks backward and my heart lurches. My God, has he changed his mind? Is he going to leave me like this and walk away laughing?
I go up on my elbows, my skin hot and flushed and achy for his touch. “Roman?” I say.
“Don’t move. You stay just like that, Peyton. I’m going to get a condom, then I’m going to fuck the hell out of you once and for all. Will you hate that?”
“Yeah, over the years,” I begin, so breathless it’s a bit hard to talk, “when I touched myself, and thought about you inside me, I hated it.”
“You’ve thought about my cock a lot, huh?” he asks as he tugs on it.
“A time or two.”
“You rubbed that sweet pussy while you thought about it?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Did you come on your finger, Peyton?”
“I did.” I slide my hand down my body, rub my breasts and go lower to swipe the soft pad of my finger over my clit. “I would get so wet.”
“I like how wet you get.”
“That’s what you do to me,” I admit.
“This is what you do to me,” he says, and glances at his cock. “I imagined this so many times in my mind. There are so many ways I want to take you.”
“I bet I’ll hate them all.”
He grins. “Yeah.”
“Roman.”
“Hmm,” he says as I continue to touch myself.
“Condom.”
“Right.” He moans and I slick my finger over my clit as he disappears. A second later, he’s on the bed, ripping into the wrapper and sheathing himself. He falls over me, heavy and strong, and captures my lips. He kisses me hard, claiming my mouth in a frenzied rush. I put my legs around him and lift.
He breaks the kiss and buries his mouth in the hollow of my neck, tasting my skin as he probes my slick opening.
“Please, fuck me,” I cry out, and he pistons forward. A gasp catches in my throat as he rams into me, seating himself high and going perfectly still. His cock stretches my body, hits places, deep places I never knew existed. His head lifts and he stares down at me.
“Worst damn thing I ever felt,” he says, and begins to move his hips, creating need and friction in my core. I wrap my arms around him to hang on, but it’s no use. I’m free-falling without a net and if the landing doesn’t kill me, it will ruin me forever. It’s frightening. Exhilarating.
“Roman,” I say. “I want... I want.”
“What do you want?”
“I don’t know.”
“You want it like this, baby?” he asks, picking up the pace, hard blunt strokes that force the air from my lungs.
“Yes.” Thank God he knows what I need even when I don’t.
His big hands grip my shoulders, and he presses hot, openmouthed kisses to my neck and chest. His body shifts, the angle forcing him in deeper.
“My God,” I cry out as he hits my cervix. He pounds against me, stimulating, rubbing, penetrating so deeply, hitting me at just the right angle, a full-body orgasm rips through me. I open my mouth but no words come when a deep shudder sends waves of pleasure from the top of my head to the tips of my toes.
He goes still inside me and curses under his breath as I shatter around him. “Jesus, Peyton,” he says as I ride the high and bask in each and every glorious pulse. So, this is what sex is like? Damn, I’d have been having it every single day if I knew it was this good. Then again, I’m sure it wouldn’t be like this with anyone other than Roman—and the truth of the matter is, what this man does to me, it’s a bit frightening.
He moves again, and my body tightens around him. “You got me there,” he says, and slides out, only to jerk forward and fill me again. “Right there.”
I scratch my nails along his back, scoring his flesh, like I’m marking him as mine, and he pulses inside me. He finds my mouth again for a deep, bruising kiss as he gives in to the pleasure and comes high inside me. His heart pounds against my chest, his body slick, hot and spasming as he collapses on top of me. He kisses my damp flesh again. His rough tongue trailing along my shoulder, as his one hand goes to my face. He cups my cheek and his head lifts, the tenderness in his gaze a complete contrast to our frenzied sex.
“Peyton,” he says, and I struggle to get my breath.
“Yeah.”
“Fuck.”
I laugh at that, loving that I reduced this man to a quivering mess. “Yeah, we just did.”
He chuckles against my flesh and shakes his head. “Did you hate it?”
“I’ve never hated anything more,” I say.
“We’ll see about that
.”
CHAPTER SIX
Roman
I CANNOT BELIEVE I just had sex with my best friend’s kid sister. Not only that, I owned her, took everything she was giving and gave it back to her just as hard, maybe even harder. The truth is, her sweet, barely touched body came alive under my greedy hands, and I swear to God, knowing I was the one who could do that to her... Let’s just say it rocked my world, and I’ve never come so hard in my entire life. She might have given me everything, and I damn well took it, but it was Peyton who held all the power, in a fundamental way.
I cast her a glance as we walk down the sidewalk, the early-morning sun beating down on us, but the warm rays have nothing to do with the glow on her face. No, I’m the reason her cheeks are flushed with heat. I take in her light blue dress, perfect for the classroom, and smooth my hand over my tie. Peyton’s look is more casual than mine, but I’m comfortable in a suit and tie—my usual business attire. I don’t need it for my job, but I grew up always having to look my best in public.
As people hurry by, heading to their workplaces, she hums under her breath, and I wish she’d stop. Now every time I hear that sound on her lips, it will take me back to her bedroom. We shouldn’t have done that. No, I should have been stronger. An uncomfortable pressure builds in my chest. Christ. If her brother ever found out...
He can’t find out.
He won’t.
No regrets, Roman.
“Peyton, about Cason, I—”
She puts her hand up to stop me. “First, I know how important he is to you and I’m not going to let anything happen to your relationship. Second, what I do with my body and who I sleep with is not his business,” she says, and my shoulders relax.
I’m an honest guy. Shit, I pride myself on it, and I’m a complete and utter asshole for A, sleeping with Peyton, and B, keeping it from Cason. I guess in the end, the fact that neither of us wants more, that we will go back to a clean slate when we’re done here, means Cason never really has to know. Never has to know the guy he trusted with his sister, the guy he could always count on, betrayed the hell out of him.
Shit.
“You ready for this?” I ask, and her smile is a bit shaky when she lifts her head to me. A small shiver goes through her despite the warmth in the air.
“Yeah, I think so.”
“You’re cold.”
“Probably just from nerves.”
I frown down at her. “You always seem a little bit cold, Peyton.”
She shrugs and I put my arm around her and draw her body close.
“Look at that, you didn’t even flinch,” I tease, wanting to ease her tension. This job is important to her. Being there for young minds, making them all feel important, loved and cherished—all the things she’d never felt, from anyone but Cason, growing up—is her life’s goal.
She chuckles. “I guess it’s a good thing we had that little experiment, then.”
“That’s what we’re calling it, is it?” My gaze goes to her lush mouth. She opened that mouth for me this morning, the sweet sight more welcoming than a hard rain after a summer’s drought. Christ, she took me so deep into her throat. Deeper than I would’ve ever expected her to take me, and how is it that oral sex with a woman who’d never given it before completely eclipsed every experience from my past? I wanted to come down her throat, fill her mouth with every last drop, but I needed to be inside her. Needed her snug sex muscles to milk my release more than I needed my next breath.
Dark lashes fall slowly over emerald eyes, and her look is demure, coy. “Yes. That’s what we’re calling it.”
Shit, I love this teasing side of her. But two can play that game. “Fine, but I’d prefer if you didn’t use the word little when you’re referring to sex with me.”
Her jaw drops open and her gorgeous green eyes go wide. “Did the humorless Roman Bianchi just crack a joke?” She reaches up and puts her hand on my forehead. “Are you sick, running a fever...delirious?”
I shove her hand away. “All right, smart-ass.”
She grins at me, but her nervousness about her first day seems to have ebbed, and for that I’m grateful. We cross the street when the light turns and both go silent. After a long while she speaks.
“Roman,” she says quietly, so quietly I almost miss it.
“Yes.”
She shades the sun from her eyes and glances down the street. I follow the direction and spot the school in the near distance. “Thanks for this,” she says.
“My pleasure,” I say, and mean every word of it. This girl needs a break, and I’m happy to give it to her. “Like I said, it’s a nice reprieve from reality.” With my arm still around her, I give a comforting squeeze. “We got this.”
“Yeah, I think we do.”
“Cason told me a bit about the job. He said you were in competition for the full-time position. How is that all working?” She breaks from my arm and sneezes into the crook of her elbow. I frown when she turns back to me, take in the red in her eyes. “Are you getting sick?” Maybe that’s why she always seems to be shivering.
“I think it’s actually allergies.”
“Allergic to Malta?”
“Probably the different foliage they have here.”
“Do you have any meds for that?”
“I’m sure it will pass,” she says, and offers me a smile. “Back to your question. The full-time teacher left for maternity and made the decision not to come back. I’m one of two candidates hired for the month of June. I’m not sure who the other person is. We both work in the classroom until the end of the school year, and whoever ‘fits’ the best will be offered the full-time position in September.”
“Why Malta?”
“The opportunity presented itself. I want to offer something to the children, expand their horizons. I feel like I can give back more in a place like this.”
“Does it have to be Malta?”
“No, but these jobs aren’t easy to come by and I want to be in a community in need, know what I mean?”
“I do.”
A woman and her young son, who looks to be about three, stroll down the sidewalk, and I catch the loving way Peyton watches them, her lips curving at the corners. For a girl who doesn’t want a family, or kids—doesn’t believe in Cinderella or Prince Charming—she sure has a longing smile on her face. Maybe that’s why she became a teacher—maybe all the children help fill the hollowed-out holes in her life.
“And you have to be married?”
The small family passes and her chest expands as she takes in a deep breath and lets it out ever so slowly. “Technically the marriage bar has been lifted, but it’s practiced behind the scenes here. I don’t like to deceive anyone, Roman, but I couldn’t take a chance. I’m hoping once they see me in action with the kids, my marital status will no longer matter.”
“I get it, but it’s all ridiculous. It’s the twenty-first century, for Christ’s sake.”
She shrugs. “I know, but this job means everything to me. Which is why—”
“Which is why I’m your husband.” My body stiffens at the words. Wow, why the hell did that come out so easily, sound so right?
“Fake husband,” she corrects.
“Isn’t that what I said?”
“No.”
“I meant to.”
“Yeah, I know.”
Children file into the school and it brings a smile to her face.
“You really like kids, huh?”
She laughs, but it’s forced, and a gust of breeze blows her hair from her shoulders. “When they’re someone else’s kids, I do.”
I nudge her. “I bet you’ll love being an aunt.”
She goes still, her eyes wide with excitement. “Wait, do you know something about Cason and Londyn that I don’t?”
“I hardly think I’d be the first
to know. I just mean, I’m sure they’ll have kids at some point.”
Her big smile wraps around me. “I guess I never thought about being an aunt before.” She blinks up at me. “Do any of your sisters have kids?”
“Yeah, and I’m a shitty uncle.”
Her face twists, a dubious smile. “I doubt that.”
“I try to be a good uncle. I really do. But whenever I visit, it’s like the Spanish Inquisition and children are thrust into my arms. I feel like if I touch one, I’ll get infected.”
Her laugh fills my soul with happiness. “Infected. Like they’re a disease?”
“No, maybe the word is addicted, or hooked.” I shake my head. “What I’m trying to say—”
“What you’re trying to say is having kids is the norm, and people can’t understand those like us who are child-free by choice.”
“Isn’t that what I said?”
She laughs and whacks me. “Oh yeah, that’s exactly what you said. But no, I get it, and isn’t that just another thing we have in common?”
I give her a teasing wink. “It’s safe to say we recently discovered quite a few things we have in common,” I say, my cock twitching in remembrance as a sexy pink blush colors her cheeks. Jesus, I want her again. Want to bury my face between her legs and taste her sweetness as I bring her to orgasm. I capture her hand, and without even thinking bring it to my mouth and press a kiss to her fingers. As soon as I do, we find ourselves at the school, the doors swinging open. Peyton turns, and I let our hands drop but continue to hold hers.
“You must be Peyton Harrison,” a gentleman in his late fifties, dressed in a light gray suit, says.
Her smile widens and she takes his outstretched hand. “I am, and you must be Mr. Galea.”
“Please, call me Andrew.”
“It’s so great to finally meet you, Andrew.” She lets go of my hand and waves it toward me, palm up, as she introduces me to the man I can only assume is the principal. “This is my husband, Roman Bianchi.”
Andrew frowns, and I stiffen. I have no idea why I feel like I’m back in grade school getting caught in a lie. Maybe because I am in the middle of a whopper of a lie. But it’s for a greater purpose in an unfair situation, making it justifiable in my mind. Sleeping with Peyton and lying to Cason about it, however, no greater purpose involved there, and not at all justifiable. Then again, I won’t have to lie to his face, because he won’t ask if I’m sleeping with his sister. He trusts me like that. Like Cason, I’m a guy who prides himself on the truth, too. But this is my best friend’s kid sister, and I’d do anything for him. Okay, who the hell am I kidding? This is Peyton, and I’d do anything for her. Even let her seduce me into her bed.