by Ali Parker
“Bedroom,” he answered, his lips moving against mine.
I felt and heard the front door open and then slam behind us. In a very short few seconds, we were moving into his room. I gasped when he dropped me on the bed, bouncing once before his body covered mine, pinning me to the mattress below.
His hands were everywhere at the same time. I had triggered a response in him that I could have never predicted. His mouth covered mine, swallowing me whole. It was like he couldn’t get enough between his hands and his mouth. The weight of his body over mine was intense, his hips rocking against me, dry fucking through the denim.
His mouth moved over my chin, biting as he moved for my neck. It was like being attacked by a vampire, the sexy kind. Every nibble was like a direct hit to my clit. I gasped, moaning with need.
“Play with fire,” he growled next to my ear.
“Going to get burned,” I finished. “I’m burning, Damion. God, I’m so hot.”
He practically jumped off the bed, pulling his weight from me. I looked up at him, his blue eyes darkening a shade as he stared down at my body. My tank top had ridden up, exposing my belly. The look on his face would have been terrifying if I didn’t know him any better.
“I’m going to set your skin on fire,” he hissed, his fingers going for the button on my jeans and flicking it open before very unceremoniously ripping the zipper down. He yanked the shorts down my legs, tossing them over his shoulder.
He stared at my body, the tiny sheer black thong I had worn with the hopes of him seeing it doing very little to shield my privacy. The look on his face made me second guess my choice in panties. When he would see the matching bra, I was sure he would lose his shit. He was different than the first two times. The man standing over me, looking at me with pure sexual desire on his face, was dangerous. It wasn’t the same slick, charming man I had met on day one.
Without warning, he reached for the thin string that held the panties up and yanked once, then again. “Oh!” I cried out when the flimsy panties tore.
He smirked, yanking and tugging until they were free of my body. “Don’t fucking tease a man that is desperate.”
My body was primed and ready for him. His eyes roaming over my sex made me burn with desire. His eyes drifted down my legs. He looked at my boots and smiled. I expected him to take them off. He didn’t. Instead, he dropped to his knees beside the bed and dragged my body to the edge. My eyes went wide as I realized what he was going to do about a second before he did it.
I screamed. I actually screamed as his hot mouth clamped over the fiery apex between my legs. I nearly came off the bed, my back arching and my body nearly erupting with an orgasm. He didn’t let me have what I wanted. He pulled his mouth away and looked up my body from between my legs.
“Next time you want to wear this getup, remember this.”
He reached between my legs and plunged one finger inside me before following the finger with his tongue. I was convinced he was going to kill me with pleasure. My body was possessed by his tongue. My hands threaded through his hair, my fingers massaging his scalp. I pulled my legs up, opening them wider as I pulled his head deeper into my crotch.
“Oh god,” I moaned, feeling the orgasm burning deep inside my womb. He was all teeth, nibbling and sucking and being none too gentle as he devoured my body with his mouth.
There was no stopping the climax. I cried out, my arms flopping to my sides as I gripped the blanket spread over the bed. I fought desperately to hold on to something. I was convinced my body would float away if I didn’t. He didn’t let up. The aggressive lapping and sucking between my legs drew out the orgasm that resulted in stars bursting in front of my eyes. My head felt like it would explode with the sensory overload.
I reached for his head, pulling him up and away from my spasming pussy. I needed him inside me. I needed to be filled with all that hard need I felt in him. He stood, shucking his jeans so fast I barely saw him do it. I felt dizzy, my head still spinning as I watched him strip off his underwear. His erection sprang forward.
I moaned, my body still floating and my eyelids heavy. He came over me, and his chest pushed against mine as he thrust inside my body with one, hard move. I groaned again, my body reacting to the invasion by clamping down and sucking him deeper inside me.
“Goddammit,” he growled. “Do you know what you do to me?”
I opened my eyes. At least, I tried to open my eyes. I felt drunk. I was drunk with lust and ecstasy. “I hope it’s the same as what you do to me.”
“I can’t control myself when you’re around,” he grunted, moving his hips with one hard thrust. “All I can think about is fucking you. I want to fuck you all the time. Your tight little pussy begs for me. Now that I’ve had a taste of you, I’m completely addicted.”
His mouth slammed over mine. His hunger was very real. He was a man out of control. He fucked hard, his body rocking into mine, sliding me across the bed. His mouth pulled away from mine as he went up on one arm. His hand reached up, two fingers resting on my lips as he stared down at me.
I opened my mouth, sucking his fingers as I watched him. His eyes dropped close, his body slowly moving inside me in a steady rhythm meant to evoke pleasure. I was so far beyond pleasuring. My body hummed and vibrated.
He pulled his fingers from my mouth and his dick from my slick passage. He stood up and pulled off his shirt, exposing the expanse of skin that was recently tanned by the sun. I reached for my tank top and pulled it over my head. As expected, when he saw the sheer bra, his eyes grew dark with need once again. One hand slid under my body, unhooking the bra before tugging it off.
I lay sprawled out on his bed, with only my boots on. My pussy throbbed with want of him.
“This,” he breathed, placing his palm over my sex. “This is what I crave.”
I squirmed under his touch. “Take me.”
“I’m going to. I’m going to take you until you’re screaming my name.”
I smiled. “I have screamed.”
He dropped onto the bed, turning me so my head was resting on a pillow before he climbed over me once again. “I never took you to be a screamer.”
“I’ve never been a screamer,” I said saucily. “You make me scream.”
In a flash, the ravenous beast from earlier was back. He drove into me, his cock filling and stretching me. He felt much bigger than before. He rocked and hammered his body inside mine. He was a man on a mission. He was a man desperate to claim a woman. Me. I was that woman.
The thought of being claimed by him both thrilled and terrified me. My hips rose up to meet his thrusts, slamming against his and taking him impossibly deeper inside my body. I reached my hands up to his arms, squeezing the biceps and digging my nails into his flesh.
He roared, a combination of pleasure and pain as his body moved faster. I could feel his cock growing impossibly larger as his need rose higher.
“More,” I cried out. “Fuck me, Damion.”
“Say it again,” he shouted, his teeth gnashing as he stared down at me.
“Fuck me!”
“My name! Say my name!”
“Damion,” I cried out. “Oh god, yes, yes, yes, Damion!”
He threw his head back, his neck straining, the veins throbbing as his body exploded inside me. My own orgasm rose up to meet his. Our bodies coming together in a hot, fiery blend of passion and extreme ecstasy. I would never be the same again. I knew it deep within my soul. That kind of passion didn’t exist with more than one person.
I closed my eyes, letting my body drift away on a soft, fluffy cloud of pure bliss. He fell on top of me. His heavy body squished me into the mattress. I threw my arms around him, holding him close as both our bodies vibrated and spasmed in the aftermath of what was by far the most intense sexual experience of my life.
It had been so good, it scared me. How could I ever be with another man after him? I knew deep in my soul no man would ever make me feel the way he did. I felt a sense of panic. My br
eath hitched in my throat.
He rolled to his side. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to smother you.”
“It’s fine,” I said, turning my face away from his.
Panic and fear squeezed around me. The delight I had felt moments ago vanished. I suddenly felt my vulnerability in my nudity. I sat up, pushing him off me as I did.
“Alex,” he said. He grabbed my hand and pulled me back toward him. “Where are you going?”
“I need to go,” I told him as I got off the bed.
“Why? We have hours before I have to pick up Oliver.”
I picked up my panties and remembered him tearing them from my body. The vivid memory sent a shudder down my spine. I tossed them back on the floor and pulled on my shorts. The scratchy jean material against my overly sensitive skin sent another shiver over my whole body. I grabbed my tank and pulled it on, not bothering with the bra.
“I have to go,” I mumbled, unable to look at him.
He got off the bed and grabbed me from behind. “What’s going on? Was I too rough? I’m sorry. I’ll buy you new panties.”
“No, it isn’t that. It’s this.”
“What is this?” he asked, slowly turning me to face him.
I ran a hand through my hair. “I can’t do this. With you. I’m just—it’s not a good thing.”
He smirked. “I felt it was a very good thing. It was so good, I’m ready to go again.”
I stepped away from him. “I know and that’s what’s bad. I can’t do this. I thought I could, and I wanted to, but I can’t.”
“You can’t what?” he asked, irritation in his voice.
“I’m getting in too deep. This thing between us, I don’t know how to do it. I don’t want to get too involved.”
“Get too involved?” he repeated. “You just want to fuck? Is that it? If that’s all you want, Alex, fine. I’m up for fucking you anytime you need it.”
I frowned. “Don’t make it dirty. I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I don’t know how else you can mean it. You come over here, tease me, knowing damn well I’ll want you, and then you tell me you don’t want to get too involved. Guess what, sweetheart? We’re involved.”
I felt horrible. I could see I was hurting him. I didn’t want to hurt him. “I have to go,” I whispered. “If you need some help around here, just give me a call. But this? This can’t happen. It’s too risky.”
“Risky? What the fuck are you talking about?”
I offered him a smile. “I’ll see you around, okay?”
He looked pissed. “I don’t know if you will,” he snapped.
I walked out of his bedroom, practically running for my truck. I needed to sort through what I was feeling. The panic welling inside me made me feel skittish. The realization that he was the man I had been waiting my whole life for scared the hell out of me. I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t strong enough. I didn’t want to lose my heart.
I didn’t think I would ever recover from a man like him, should he leave me. I didn’t want to be a broken woman. I had worked too hard for too long to put myself together after what had been a less than ideal childhood.
I couldn’t possibly do it again.
Chapter 43
Damion
A cold chill washed over my naked body as I stood in my bedroom staring at the door she’d just walked out of. “What the fuck?” I breathed.
I couldn’t explain it. I knew she’d come over wanting sex. She’d admitted as much. Was she pissed I had taken her up on the offer? I knew she enjoyed herself. Hell, she’d screamed my name. She’d come hard, harder than any woman I had ever been with. I’d rocked her world. I wasn’t being egotistical. I was being honest. She’d come apart in my arms and it had been magical. Mind-blowing. Best. Sex. Ever.
And then she left. Not left. She’d run out of my house like the hounds of hell were on her heels. I slowly redressed, trying to figure out what the hell had happened. I understood she had some issues. I got it. It wasn’t like I had proposed marriage. I wanted to know she was my girlfriend. I needed that kind of honesty and commitment. If we weren’t together, I had to believe she would take any job that came her way and up and leave me again.
I had no desire to be a yo-yo. I wasn’t looking for a long-term thing, but I needed a little something. I couldn’t let Oliver be jerked around either. She needed to figure out what she wanted. My good mood was gone. I stomped back outside, ready to dig holes or do anything that required manual labor. I had a lot of frustration to work through.
I didn’t get two steps out the door before my phone rang. It was New York again, but it wasn’t the same number as before. I assumed it was probably Pat calling from his own line.
“Hello,” I answered, looking forward to the distraction from my current aggravations.
“Damion Whittle?” I heard a woman ask.
“Yes, this is him. Who’s calling?”
“Hold for Mr. Bryant,” the woman said.
My brain searched my memory files. The only Bryant I knew was the head of the publishing company of the magazine I used to work for. I waited on the line.
“Damion!” I heard the deep voice say and was immediately taken back to the company Christmas party. It was who I suspected.
“Mr. Bryant,” I said his name. “This is a surprise.”
He chuckled. “I understand you’ve talked to Pat. This phone call shouldn’t be that much of a surprise.”
I laughed. “You’re right. What’s going on?”
“We need you back,” he stated. “This magazine is drowning. The last issue that was sent to the printer was shit. I’m sorry to be crass, but it was awful. We can’t afford to have that happen again.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I told him, hating to see all my hard work going up in flames.
“So am I. I’ve talked with the board and we’re willing to pay you double your old salary. We need help. This is my Hail Mary. Tell me what it would take to get you back in here.”
I sighed. It was a great offer. It was an offer no reasonable man would turn down. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m kind of locked into something here. I’m not sure I can get away.”
“We’ll sweeten the deal,” he blurted out. “We’ve interviewed countless people and none of them have the qualifications we need. You understood the readers, and that team you put together worked great for you, but not so great without you.”
I mulled it over. “I need to see what kind of options I have here. I’ll get back to you within a day or two.”
“The sooner the better, Damion. Let us know as soon as possible.”
“I will do that, Mr. Bryant. I’ll talk to you soon.”
I ended the call and held the phone in my hand, tapping it against my palm. I had an out. The money my grandfather left would be great, but I didn’t think I could keep up with it all. The drama with Alex was draining me. The farm was draining me. It was all too much.
I could go back to New York, and with the increase in pay, I would live a very comfortable life. With the right investment choices, I could still afford to send Oliver to any college he wanted—assuming he got a few scholarships.
I felt like I was in a chess match and kept getting outplayed. I wasn’t normally the kind to pick up my toys and go home, but I was old enough to know when to quit while I was ahead. I was pretty sure that time was now.
I called Harvey and set up an appointment to meet in an hour. I quickly showered and changed into a good pair of jeans and a fresh shirt before heading into town. Harvey’s office was attached to his house. I knocked on the door, not sure if it was appropriate to walk in or not.
Harvey answered the door. “Damion, it’s good to see you. I’ve been meaning to get out to the farm and see how things were going. How are you?”
“Good,” I said, following him inside his small office. He gestured for me to take a seat in one of the two available chairs.
“How’s farm life?” he asked with a laugh. “Is it like you r
emembered?”
I smiled. “Somewhat. It’s a little different being the man in charge, though.”
He chuckled. “I bet it is. How about your son? Is he liking his new school?”
“He is. He loves school and Miss June.”
Harvey smiled. “I bet he does. She’s a good teacher.”
The small talk was over. “I need to talk to you about the stipulations for the inheritance,” I started.
I had mulled over what to do and how to best approach the matter. I didn’t want to sound like a money-hungry asshole, but I needed to know what my options were. If I walked away from the money, I wanted to know where it went—assuming I had the right to know. I needed to know what happened to the farm as well. I wanted to keep it, but the rational part of me knew that wasn’t logical. To pay someone to keep up the farm would cancel out any profit generated from the wheat harvest.
“As in?” he asked.
“You said I needed to live on the farm for six months in order to inherit,” I told him.
He nodded his head. “Yes, that’s right.”
“What if I don’t?” I asked.
He leaned back in his chair. “Your grandfather wasn’t trying to be difficult. He wanted you to have the farm and the fruits of his labor. The six-month clause was more about getting you home. He wanted you back in Montana to see if it would trigger a connection. You know how much he loved this place and I don’t have to tell you how badly he wanted you back here. He was convinced it was for your own best interests.”
“I do know that, but he also knew I had a great job and a life in New York.”
“Yes, I know, and he knew. Your grandpa was old school and stubborn as an ox. He wanted to pass down the farm to you and hoped it would one day pass on to your son. The man wasn’t a dreamer, but that was one thing he often talked about.”
I sighed. The man was making me feel very guilty about everything. I felt like I was quitting my grandfather, quitting the family. “What happens if I don’t stay?” I asked again. “What happens to the farm?”