Dare to Love Again

by Maddie Taylor

  Had she read more into this than he intended? But he’d called her, pushed up the date, and was waiting for her, ten minutes early like she was. Surely it meant he was anticipating being together again as much as she was.

  When she pulled into the first available space near the door and killed the engine, she glanced in the rearview, but the spot where he stood was empty.

  Turning in her seat, Esme scanned the lot behind her, disappointment gripping her when she didn’t see him. Had he gone inside?

  A knock on her side glass made her jump. Twisting back around, she saw dark jeans, and a kick-ass, hand-tooled belt, then suddenly his face filled her side window.

  “Open up, baby.”

  As soon as she popped the locks, he jerked the door open. The next thing she knew, she was in his arms, unsure how she’d gotten there. But it didn’t matter, not when his hands sank into her hair and he angled her head back to claim her lips.

  Having thought of him non-stop in the past nine hours since his call, she opened eagerly for his demanding tongue, and like he’d done to her, plunged her fingers into his thick, soft hair while she kissed him back.

  He growled into her mouth, clamped a hand on her ass, and lifted her against his body. Esme wanted to get closer too and jumped enough to wrap her legs around his hips. She immediately regretted her choice of cotton shorts instead of a skirt which he could have moved easily out of the way and plunged his hand into her panties. Wanting him desperately, she ground the seam of her shorts against the hard bulge behind his zipper.

  When she did, he shifted them both, and she heard the car door slam. Next, they were moving, Finn carrying her effortlessly without losing her mouth.

  She mewled in disappointment. In her mind, she had envisioned him being so wild for her he laid her across the still warm hood of her car, ripped her shorts and panties down, and fucked her right there.

  “Cameras, a stór,” he murmured into her mouth, his frustration audible as if he’d considered taking her like in her fantasy then thought better of it.

  At the entrance, he had to break their kiss to punch in the code on the keypad. He did it one handed, opened the door the same way, then they were on the move again, down the cool, air-conditioned corridor. Once inside, he didn’t give her the grand tour. Instead, he perched her butt on the arm of his couch, leaned back enough to pull her shirt up over her head, then toppled her back on the cushions. With her hips higher than her head, he undid her shorts, and shucked them down her legs, hooking her panties as he went.

  Next, he pushed her thighs wide and buried his face in her pussy, devouring her with his lips and tongue as she cried out from the nearly overwhelming sensations.

  “I dreamed of your sweet cunt last night, and all I could think about was having another taste,” he growled, his words buzzing as good as any vibe right over her clit.

  “Finn,” she moaned her hands in his hair pulling him tighter against her.

  “Sweetest fucking cunt ever,” he said while sucking the hard nub into his mouth and flicking it with his tongue from inside.

  “Oh, my… I can’t wait.”

  “Don’t, baby. Come for me, now, so I can gobble up more of your honeyed sweetness.”

  As soon as he drove his tongue inside her, she did. Her entire body shook and convulsed, ripples of pleasure gripping her from the inside out as her back arched, her hips came off the armrest, and her thighs clamped around his head as she exploded in ecstasy.

  Before the tremors left her body, he was on his feet, tearing off his clothes. Vaguely, she heard the crinkle of a foil wrapper as he saw to protection, then he growled.

  “My turn,” and with his cock in hand, a sight she greedily consumed with her eyes, he guided himself to her center.

  With his path eased by the slickness his incredible mouth had created, he sank into her in one thrust, stretching and filling her as his nearly overwhelming presence set off more waves of contractions inside her. He groaned, moving as she clamped down around him, but it wasn’t enough. Leaning forward, he slipped his hands behind her, and with easy strength lifted her from the couch. Her body weight drove her down on his cock. She gasped, his possession so incredibly deep as he switched their positions, with him seated on the couch and her on top, straddling his thighs.

  She raised her hands to sweep her hair out of her face, and he claimed her breasts, one with his mouth, drawing her nipple inside to suck and nibble, and curving his hand beneath the other, his thumb and finger rolling and tugging at the peak. It felt so damn good, she couldn’t focus on anything except the pleasure he was giving her. Esme’s head fell back, one hand coming to the back of his head, holding him there, while the other covered his at her breast. Then, despite the shattering climax of only moments before, she arched into him, selfishly taking more.

  Finn had other ideas, however, and released her nipple with a pop.

  “It seems one of us is being mighty greedy.” He moved her hands behind her neck. “Keep those there.” With fingers curled around her hips to steady her, he scooted down the couch. “Now, since you’ve come once while I did the work, for my turn, I want to lie back and watch while you ride me.”

  Esme had no problem with that, except with her legs spread wide over his thickly muscled thighs, when she made her first move, she realized with nothing to hold on to it wasn’t as easy as she thought.

  Glancing down, she saw his gaze hungrily roving her body. “May I use my hands, sir?”

  “Nope, with them up, your breasts sway with your movements.” He reached up and tweaked one pouty nipple. “And I have full access to play.”

  She tried again, moving upward, but only slightly.

  He wrapped his fingers around her ankles and brought them forward, so she was frog-sitting on his lap. “Try again.”

  How he thought this would be easier, she wasn’t sure. The best she could do was rock and grind against him, neither of which he seemed to mind. She didn’t either, because his hands never stopped moving, teasing her breasts, running up and down her sides and over her thighs, and he didn’t neglect the parts in between. One hand slid down her belly, combing through the small triangle of curls in front, slipping his thumb down further and with her legs splayed wide, he homed in quickly on her clit. She lost what little rhythm she had as he created shivers of delight with his skilled touch.

  After this went on for several wonderfully torturous moments, he stopped, but he was far from done. With his fingers curled beneath her thighs, he helped her move, lifting higher and gliding deeper, taking the entire length of his hard shaft. He did it slowly, bringing her almost all the way off before he let her slide down until he was fully seated again. They both inhaled on the upstroke, sighing in Esme’s case, and Finn groaned on the downstroke as her pussy enveloped him tightly.

  “Keep going,” he ordered, his already low voice growing deeper with his increasing need.

  “I could do this better and move faster if I could put my hands on your shoulders for balance.”

  “Probably, and we’ll get there, but right now I want it slow, not fast, because I’m enjoying the hell out of the show.”

  Legs brazenly spread, breasts bouncing as she rode him, exposed as she was, she flushed hotly. But it was his turn, and she wanted to give him as much as he’d given her.

  When she moved up again, he held her poised with only the head of his cock in her pussy, his eyes fixed on where they joined and with excruciating slowness, inch by exquisite inch, he eased her back down.

  “Like a custom-made lock and key, we fit together perfectly.”

  “Yes, sir,” she moaned. “You fill me so full there is no space left inside.”

  His gaze rose to hers, his green colliding with her own, then repeated the motion, but on the return glide, he thrust upward with his hips, sinking deeper, and proving her wrong.

  With a sharply indrawn breath, her muscles clamped around him, and she shuddered, unsure how much longer she could continue his erotic gam
e. Tired of the slow torture, or feeling merciful, either way, he flipped her, her back against the cushions this time. Without withdrawing, he settled between her thighs, hitching one of her legs up high on his hip. While propped on his elbows, gazing down at her, he moved in and out of her, thrusting hard and deep, at fucking last.

  His hands framed her face, his eyes shimmering with passion, and he ordered with a growl, “Move with me, mo chuisle.”

  She didn’t understand his words, but his intention was clear. Lifting her hips, they soon found a rhythm, then increased the tempo, Finn leading with her keeping pace. Her body responded, soaring higher until the peak of ecstasy was in reach. And through it all, he never looked away, never broke contact, or lost their connection, one even more intimate than having their bodies joined. And while she wanted to go that little bit higher, to come apart in his arms, more so, she wanted to linger, reveling in the contentment and peace she found with him, in case, like in the past, it was stolen from her again.

  “It’s okay, Esme. Let go. I’ll be here to catch you.”

  She sucked in a breath, amazed how he always seemed to know what she was thinking or feeling, as if he could see inside her mind, or more so, her soul. It was frightening as much as it was comforting,

  He bent his head, his lips barely touching hers, as he continued to drive inside her, pushing her toward her body’s surrender and he whispered, “I’ll always be here to catch you.”

  His assurance, that extra little nudge was enough to send her over the top. As she cried out her release, the pleasure was pure and explosive.

  Finn surrendered to it too, thrusting into her hard once more, then again, before planting deep, as his body tensed over hers. His bliss-filled groan rolled up from his chest. When it ended, he took a deep breath and sealed his mouth over hers, sending new spirals of intense pleasure shooting through her.

  Instantly alert, Keiran rolled onto his back, listening to the strange noises in his usually silent apartment. His arm swept out to his side finding the place beside him empty. He would have preferred to wake first and slowly rouse Esme with caresses before making love to her to start his day, but when his stomach rumbled from the smell of bacon frying, he threw back the covers and grabbed his jeans off the floor. He ducked into the bathroom to take care of first things first, then followed the delicious aromas out to his kitchen.

  What he found there made him grin, and since she hadn’t noticed him, he leaned in the doorway to watch. Dressed in one of his shirts, it hung nearly to her knees, and with her long hair on top of her head in a messy knot, her face washed clean of make-up, she looked like she could be in college, rather than quickly approaching her thirties. His eyes scanned down her body, admiring the hint of curves visible beneath her borrowed clothes especially the way the rounded hem hugged her bottom, and the sight of her long smooth legs, bare feet, and pink-tipped toes.

  He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had stayed the night and never one so fucking adorable who hummed off-key—the song familiar, but he couldn’t quite make it out—while cooking him breakfast. She shoved up the too-long sleeves of his overlong shirt and with a potholder removed the skillet from the burner. When she turned his way and noticed him, she jumped, letting out a little shriek of surprise.

  Afraid she might drop the hot pan and burn herself, he rushed forward. Grabbing another hot pad from where it hung, mostly unused, from a hook on the side of the fridge, he took the frying pan from her.

  “Easy,” he murmured while he set it down and with his arm around her, curled her into his side.

  She dropped her head on his shoulder; the hair piled high on her head tickling his neck. After a moment, she took a deep breath and blew it out.

  “Didn’t mean to startle you, lass.”

  “I didn’t hear you come in.” Her head popped up, and she smiled at him tentatively. “I was just about to come wake you. You like eggs, don’t you? I figured you did since you had them on hand, and milk, bacon, and biscuit mix. Your kitchen is surprisingly well-stocked, sir.”

  He squeezed her, grinning. “I like all of that, baby. Not knowing when we’ll be here, the staff keep us supplied with staples. I can get by enough not to starve, but from the smell, you’re a much better hand in the kitchen than I am.”

  “I do all right,” she said blushing prettily.

  “I can’t wait to taste your idea of all right.” His lips touched hers briefly, then with another little squeeze, he released her and headed for his automatic brewer. “Do we have coffee?”

  “You do, but I couldn’t figure out your coffee maker. I don’t drink it, so I left it for you, sir.”

  “No coffee? Lass, how do you function?’

  “I also start my day with a jolt of caffeine, but mine comes with a pop top, in a can, and I pour it over ice.”

  He quirked a brow. “Not soda.”

  “Yep, high test diet Mountain Dew.”

  “That’s nothing but a glass full of chemicals. At least coffee has proven health benefits.”

  “Like what?” she asked skeptically.

  “It has antioxidants, for one, and studies have shown it may reduce the risk of some chronic diseases.”

  She wrinkled her nose—looking adorable when she did so. “I’ll stick to blueberries that taste good, thank you very much, sir.”

  “I’m Keiran, Esme. Or Finn, which you seem to favor. You don’t have to call me sir when we’re not in the club or playing. Okay?”

  “Yes, sir.” A hand flew to her mouth, her soft laughter, a beautiful sound. “Oops, force of habit. But since you don’t mind, I’d like to stick with Finn. I’m rather partial to it.”

  At the coffeepot, he glanced back at her and asked, “Why is that?”

  He caught the color flooding her cheeks before she crossed to the cupboard to get plates.

  “It’s how I’ve thought of you since the first night—so it’s already set in my brain.”

  Though he presumed from her blush, there was more to it than that, he let it go, for now, eager to get some caffeine in his system and her food in his belly.

  They chatted easily over breakfast, which ended much too soon. Keiran would have preferred taking her back to bed to spend the rest of the morning exploring her beautiful body, but he had a case, and she had to get home to see to her cat. Tonight, wouldn’t be soon enough to have his fill of her again, but it would have to do.

  Chapter 14

  Sitting with her back to the bar, Esme shifted on her stool and tugged on the back of her skirt. To find it, she dug deep into the boxes in the garage, left untouched since moving. She’d bought it for a hoedown back in college though she wasn’t exactly sure what possessed her to keep it and haul it cross-country. Now, despite the skirt fitting a lot snugger than it had when she was twenty, she was glad she did.

  She didn’t have a vest like Finn suggested but found a cute pink and white gingham shirt in the back of her closet. Left unbuttoned with the tails knotted beneath her breasts, it exposed an eye-catching amount of her curves and white belly. The latter made her a little self-conscious; her stomach was flat but not even close to concave, and she lacked the sculpting many of the other women had. But as she thought back to last night, and the way Finn had dragged his lips and tongue in a path from her throat, through the valley between her breasts, down past her navel and all the way to her spread thighs, he hadn’t minded her softness in the least.

  Other than her skirt and skimpy top, she wore nothing else, as instructed, except pink ribbons at the end of her twin braids, and on her feet, four-inch T-strap pumps. Her shoes didn’t go with the outfit, but they were a pale pink, almost nude, and didn’t stick out all that much. Besides, she didn’t own western boots. Regardless of the missing elements of her costume, she thought her sexy look would please Finn, and if nothing else, was a vast improvement over the business suit fiasco.

  Esme swiveled on her bar stool until she had a clear shot of the doors. When she’d arrived, the parking gar
age and rear lot were overflowing, and she expected the bar to be standing room only. She’d been right, but almost everyone was on the dance floor.

  Her eyes kept darting from the crowd to the doors as she divided her time watching for Finn and trying to get a glimpse of the band who was playing a set of Evanescence covers and doing it very well, the lead singer’s voice indistinguishable from the real thing. One of her favorite bands, she’d listened to their version of My Immortal at least a thousand times since Andrew’s death. It seemed to sum up her struggle with memories that wouldn’t fade, and wounds that wouldn’t heal, as if the songwriter had peered into her broken heart and lifted her thoughts from her brain.

  It should have made her cry every time but she couldn’t, not until Finn.

  Turning on her stool, she blocked out the memories. They had no place here tonight, intruding on her new beginning.

  He was all she’d been able to think of since they’d parted this morning. Something had dawned on her as she sat on her patio, looking over the valley, rewinding the night before in her head. She’d slept in Finn’s bed, while snuggled up to his side, her cheek pillowed on his chest, his arm around her, for a continuous six-hour stretch, which never happened. She dreamed, but for the first time in a long while, they weren’t filled with horror and gore, or characters from TV with bizarre demands, or rotund disgusting kings from centuries past forcing her to do lewd, disgusting acts. She shuddered as she always did when Henry’s greasy image popped into her head. To get him out of there, she shook it, hard.

  “So, what’s your story?”

  Esme whipped around. Mistress Latrice with her red braided quirt sat on the stool next to her, watching with interest.

  “My story?”

  “You arrive with Ryan Paxton, a good Dom, handsome, hot, masculine—if you go for that kind, and I know you do, which is my loss—but you don’t play. I didn’t think much of it at first. You were new, taking it all in, but weeks passed, and that’s all you ever did. Then, like that,” she snapped her fingers, “he’s gone. I take a shot, along with half the other tops in the place. We’re taking bets to see what you’re into—men, women, both. I got nowhere, fast, so I knew you didn’t swing my way. But weeks passed, and you didn’t swing at all, only watched.” She clapped her hands together making Esme jump. “Then, out of the blue, you’re hitting on every Dom in the place. They say no, after being turned down flat. Damn fools.”