by Marie James
I don’t think about the differences in our age or the opposite lives that we lead as I lay her on the bed, covering her body with my own. My senses are overwhelmed with all of her—the softness of her skin when I pull the tie of the robe to reveal every inch of her perfect skin, the smooth dip of her stomach when she breathes, the pulse pounding at the hollow of her throat.
“You are so fucking perfect,” I whisper as I lower my mouth to her shoulder, hand tugging her leg up so it hitches on my hip.
Her breathing is ragged, chest moving up and down, drawing all of my attention to the pink peaks of her nipples. God, how many times have I pictured sucking them into my mouth? More times than there are stars in the sky, I’m certain.
Her breath hitches when I blow a stream of air over the tip before swiping at it with my tongue. Her fingers, trembling slightly, wrap in my hair, but she doesn’t tug to make me stop.
I pull my head back, checking in with her anyway. “You okay?”
“Perfect,” she pants. “Do that again?”
I grin wide. If she thinks my mouth on her nipple for a split second felt amazing, she’s in for a world of surprises tonight.
I give her exactly what she needs, sucking the tip of one breast into my mouth before kissing across her sternum to do the same to the other. I nip at the curve of one while pinching the nipple of the other between two fingers.
Her back comes off the bed, and she has to be the most perfect thing I’ve ever had under me. Her eyes are closed, mouth slightly open with her face pointed to the ceiling. I could’ve had this. We could’ve shared this long before now. I could’ve had more time with her, more opportunities to please her, but I refuse to feel the loss of those chances.
If anything more happened before tonight, this wouldn’t be as important, wouldn’t be as amazing. This is exactly how it always should’ve been.
“Watch me,” I urge, lowering my mouth back to her skin and licking at the barbell in her belly button.
Her eyes flutter, but she manages to keep them open.
“Are you going to—” Her tongue licks at her lips as she sucks in a ragged breath. “There?”
“Do you want me t—”
She nods nearly violently, bringing a stop to my words and forcing a laugh to bubble out of my throat.
I want to ask if it’s ever happened before, if she’s ever let a man get this close to her, but the second my mouth opens, my tongue dips back down to her skin. Wide green eyes stare down at me, mouth hanging open as I split her with my tongue.
“Oh God,” she moans.
Yep, probably the first time. My cock throbs, begging me to stop ignoring him.
I spread her with the width of my shoulders, lifting her lower body off the bed and putting her on display. She continues to blink up at me as I taste and tease her. The muscles in her stomach contract, the ones in her legs trembling against my biceps as her head nods over and over in encouragement.
Jesus Christ. She’s going to come on my mouth in seconds. I double my efforts, licking into her, swiping at her swollen clit, moaning in pleasure when her sweet taste hits the back of my throat.
“Flynn,” she groans, her legs locking up, thighs attempting to lock me in place.
Jesus, baby. Just let it happen.
And it does. Powerful, unused muscles pulse against my mouth, making my cock threaten to explode.
Her body convulses, but I hold her in place, my mouth unrelenting on her until she nearly yanks a patch of hair from my head due to oversensitivity.
God, I want her mouth on me. I want my cock jerking against her tongue while I coat it with cum, but that won’t happen right now. I know I’m going to be inside of her the second I strip my clothes off.
I climb off the bed, leaving her looking up at me with half-lidded eyes and a smile on her face.
“Feel good?”
Her smile grows. “Fishing for compliments?”
“Baby,” I say, untucking my shirt before working the buttons open to reveal the expanse of my chest. “I don’t have to have your words. Your pussy just sang a million thank yous against my mouth.”
I lick my lips, enjoy the taste of her left behind. Her cheeks heat, but the brave girl doesn’t look away.
“Why are you taking so long?” It takes some effort, but she lifts her arms, waggling her fingers for me to join her.
“Are you going to let me fill that sweet pussy with my cock?”
She bites her lips, cheeks growing pink. “Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
She doesn’t answer immediately, her attention solely on my fingers as I work open my slacks and drop them along with my boxer briefs to my ankles. I kick off my shoes, cock throbbing and moving, a jutting sight as I strip down.
She swallows, her eyes meeting mine.
“You want to come on my cock, Remi?”
“Yes.” She’s breathless as her legs fall open, revealing perfect, glistening flesh.
Climbing back on the bed, I give her perfect core one long sweep of my tongue.
“It’s big,” she whispers as I settle between her legs.
“It is,” I agree, my mouth finding hers, tongues and lips making promises, begging for the forgiveness I can’t gain enough courage to say out loud.
“Ready?” She nods her head, eyes fluttering closed as I line and shift my hips.
The heat of her engulfs the head of my cock as her fingers dig relentlessly into my forearms.
When I push all the way in, I swallow her cry with my mouth, squeezing my own eyes closed as I find the end of her. Jesus, it’s better than I ever imagined, better than anything I’ve ever experienced.
I go slow, pulling back and gliding back in, the grip around me enough to make me wish I’d prepared for her. It’s going to be over too soon, and any idea I had that once was all I needed to get her out of my system flies out the damn window, crashing to the New York streets below as I get lost in her.
“Slow,” she begs when I move too fast, thrust too hard. “I’m so full.”
Her words settle in my nuts, threatening to take me over the edge, and I cover her mouth with mine once again, whispering how good she feels, how she’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me in my life.
She moans, her body finally catching up to the pleasure as her hips begin to move, meeting every motion of my hips.
“Flynn,” she pants, her eyelids fluttering.
“So fucking good, baby. Think I can make you come?”
Her mouth falls open, no words escaping as I lean back on my knees. Her eyes follow mine to where our bodies meet, the thick head of my cock barely breeching her as I lick my fingers and drop them to her clit.
She whimpers, and it’s the most seductive sound I’ve ever been a witness to as I rub circles to the swollen bundle of nerves.
“I’m going to need you to come, baby. I’m not going to last.”
“I don’t think—” She moans, her head arches back, eyes closed when I readjust, angling my cock toward the sensitive part inside of her, the same spot I brushed with my fingers the other night in her room.
“That’s it, baby. Feel me,” I groan, my balls tight and ready. “I need this pretty pussy to come, Remington.”
Her eyes flash, mouth still hanging open, and then it happens. Her body locks up, pussy fluttering in release down my cock, and I lose my mind, hips snapping forward as she rides out her orgasm. Her cheeks are flushed, the redness spreading down her throat and teasing the swell of her bouncing tits.
“Jesus,” I gasp, applying pressure to her lower belly and slamming my hips forward over and over. “That’s it. So pretty when you come.”
Then all talking is over as my nuts seize, pulsing out my own release.
Falling forward, I press my face into her neck, arms around her waist as I hold her close.
Fuck, I’m going to miss this woman.
Chapter 24
Remington
I groan, every muscle in my body sore as
I roll over in the bed. I don’t freak immediately when my wandering hand finds cold sheets rather than Flynn’s warm chest. He’s an early riser, something I’ve noticed since he’s been at my house. I smile, a small tug at the corners of my mouth at his sweetness. Letting me sleep in after such a life-altering night shows his kindness, but I hate that he’s not holding me right now.
My muscles protest when I climb out of the bed, but I manage to ignore the throb between my legs. I’m sore, but my body is begging me to find him and have him inside of me all over again. I throw on the robe I was wearing last night, barely cinching it at the waist before seeking him out.
When I hear movement in the other room, I speed up my pace, only to find hotel staff rolling in a cart.
“Good morning,” I whisper to a member of the hotel staff as they situate breakfast trays on the table, a meal Flynn must’ve ordered as my eyes dart around the room looking for him.
The staff member returns my greeting before exiting the room. I sit, refusing to acknowledge that sinking feeling in my gut. I spend the next twenty minutes nibbling on the gourmet meal, waiting for him to show back up. I’ve convinced myself he went out for a run, something he always does in the morning—usually on the treadmill at the house—but an hour later and with no sign of him that conviction dies a slow death.
I have thick skin. It became that way at an early age at the demands of my mother. Even as a child, crying when upset was not tolerated. Only smiling faces were allowed in Carla’s world. The public had to believe we were perfect regardless of the emotions pulling us down. So that’s how I leave the hotel, head up, face emotionless—in the same dress I celebrated my birthday in last night.
I text him, letting him know I had to check out of the room, but the messages come back undeliverable. We’ve never texted before although I’ve had his number since he arrived, a safety precaution demanded by Blackbridge’s contract with my parents. I want to convince myself it was entered incorrectly, but my head knows the truth.
Tonight is the only special night.
Those words eat at my soul, and I should’ve known then what to expect, but the night was amazing. He said sweet things, praised me, made me feel like the only woman on the planet.
And yet, he vanished before I could even open my eyes.
My throat is thick, making it hard to swallow as the cab driver pulls up to the gate of our house. His truck isn’t parked to the side, but it’s not unheard of for him to use one of the spots in the garage. The limo outside tells me that my parents are still home. Charles hates random vehicles parked outside, so his truck has to be stashed away.
Either that, or he’s avoiding me after such a magical night. As I pass cash to the cab driver and step out into the mid-morning sun, I pray he isn’t here. Facing him after his disappearing act in front of my parents would be brutal, trying to keep my mouth clamped closed, unable to hiss all the things I plan to tell him. No, him coming back after they leave again is best.
Tears threaten as I climb the steps to go inside, but I straighten my spine as my hand turns the knob to enter. Planning on going straight to my room, I freeze in the foyer, my eyes darting between my mother and a stoic man I’ve never seen before in my life.
His eyes dart toward me, but then he looks to my mother for guidance.
“Who are you?” I snap, those emotions I’ve been trying to keep a handle on floating to the surface at an alarming rate.
He doesn’t answer me, can’t be bothered to even look back in my direction.
“Mother, what’s going on?”
“Reginald is your new security detail. He’s married, so flashing him isn’t going to work.”
That’s all she says before she walks away, disappearing down the hall as if she can’t be bothered to waste another breath on me.
With tears burning my eyes, I focus on Reginald. If I thought Flynn was tight-lipped and unyielding, he’s nothing compared to this guy. Serious eyes stay focused across the room as I take him in fully. Gray is sprinkled at his temples, but it’s not a clear indication of his age because his skin is smooth around his eyes and mouth, probably from never smiling or enjoying himself.
“Who are you?”
“Reginald,” he answers, eyes not looking in my direction.
“And who do you work for?”
“Security Plus.”
That explains more than he can possibly realize.
Flynn is gone. Blackbridge is no longer the agency working for my family.
He just walked away.
After spending the night with me, holding me, and whispering beautiful things, he’s just gone.
Racing through the house as if I don’t know what I’m going to find, I throw open the door to the garage, the motion-activated lights revealing an unfamiliar car—more than likely Reginald’s—in the last spot of the huge room.
My shoulders slump, all conditioning and training to school my emotions gone as I make my way back into the house. I walk past Flynn’s replacement, eyes straight ahead and ascend the stairs.
Tears are falling, rolling hotly down my cheeks by the time I make it to my bedroom door. The sobbing comes the second I fall onto my comforter. The numbness fades away after a few seconds, unleashing a torrent of pain.
Used.
Something I never thought I’d feel where he was concerned.
He knows how people treat me. I’ve whispered the confessions more than once, confessed how disposable I feel with my own parents, with the people I can’t really call my friends.
He was well aware of all those things, and he still walked out without looking back. It feels like a great big fuck you, a middle finger and the last word to an argument I didn’t even know we were having, punishment for all the times I snuck out and challenged him.
What I thought was the beginning of something amazing was just his final kiss my ass.
Tears fall, my makeup from last night staining my stark white sheets.
I don’t know how long I let the pain dig its way into my bones, but it’s dark outside by the time I crawl out of bed. I hate him. Hate the way I feel. Hate the thought of his name, but it doesn’t keep me from crying again as I climb in the shower and wash the scent of him from my skin.
Chapter 25
Flynn
When Wren walks into my office two days later and slaps a fucking tabloid on my desk, it isn’t the sight of me leaving that fucking hotel like a thief in the night that draws my attention. It isn’t the fact that the sun hadn’t even crested the horizon or the caption declaring Remington Blair: Did She Use Protection with Her Protector?
All of that is concerning, making my chest hurt and fists clench.
What keeps my head lowered, eyes focused on the rag in front of me is the second picture, the one of Remington walking out of the hotel with her head up, shoes from the previous night in her fist. I’ve seen that stubborn look on her face more than once. I’ve been a witness to the strength in her spine. She has the same stature when her parents walk past her without acknowledgment, when she’s feeling like she’s facing the world alone.
Only it wasn’t her parents or her shitty friends that put her in that position two mornings ago. I did that. I’m responsible for the stiffness in her shoulder, and the pink on her cheeks that’s holding back a dam of emotions.
“He wants to see you,” Wren says on a sigh.
I don’t bother looking up or moving. I knew this was coming. Deacon was on a long weekend with his wife, Anna, when the team returned on Sunday. It was only a matter of time before getting my ass chewed out by the boss.
“He said now,” Wren says, a look of concern on his face when we meet eyes. “Sorry, man.”
He walks away, shoulders slumped as if he’s just given me disastrous news.
I follow him out of the office, turning left when he goes right in the direction of his own space. I’m numb to all of it at this point, knowing nothing can make me feel worse. Walking away was nearly impossible. Even as explos
ive as we were together, Remington and I come from completely different worlds. I live in a two-bedroom condo. She lives in a mansion worth more than a small country. I work more than I sleep or play. She lounges by the pool and gets bi-weekly pedicures.
We just don’t mix. Passion is only a part of the equation, and even though we have that in spades, everything else will just get in the way of that.
“Fuck,” I grunt, covering my eyes when I open Deacon’s door without knocking. Seeing his wife straddling his lap while they make out like teenagers is the very last thing I wanted to see. I turn around. “I’ll come back.”
“Stay,” my boss snaps. I freeze but keep my back to them as they whisper goodbyes so sickly sweet, I may end up losing the coffee I’ve been living on for the last forty-eight hours.
Anna pats me on the back as she slips past me, her face a sad contradiction to the situation she just left with her husband. Oh, this is bad if she’s feeling sorry for me.
When Anna closes the door behind her, I face Deacon, falling into the chair across from him. I’d rather be sitting for the kick in the nuts.
“God, I love that woman,” he sighs, his eyes planted across the room where Anna just exited.
“Cool.” It’s the most I can manage.
He huffs a humorless laugh.
“So, you kissed her again?” His eyes dart to his copy of the same tabloid Wren threw on my desk.
Kissed her. Had my mouth all over that perfect body of hers, cock stuffed inside of her. Tinges of her blood on my dick. Left my cum inside of her.
The chance of getting her pregnant hits me in the chest, not having close to the effect I would’ve thought it could. The chance of her showing up, belly big with my child, makes my cock threaten to get hard. The possibility that our lives could be irrevocably tangled for eternity makes hope bloom in my chest. Our worlds may not mix now, but a baby would change all of that.
“Yeah, I kissed her again.”
“Wren tracked you to the hotel before the pictures hit the newsstands.”