by Lucy Leroux
“Look at me.”
Her eyes flew open to meet Patrick’s eyes.
“No, I meant there. Look at me there.”
“Oh.”
Giggling nonsensically, Tahlia tilted her head. Though sheathed, his cock was rigid, rubbing against her pussy with teasing little strokes. Each movement sent a shock of pleasure pulsing through her.
“What do I do?” she whispered. Tahlia may have been a superior poker player, but here she was the novice.
“Wrap your legs around me.” Patrick fitted himself at her opening, pushing inside with a grim determination lining his face.
“You’re so wet this shouldn’t hurt that much,” he added, pressing a soft kiss to her lips.
He was wrong. A different kind of burning consumed her as he flexed his hips, fighting the resistance of her untried body. Tahlia’s lips parted, her breath growing short as he drove his cock until he was flush to the hilt.
Her mouth gaped, shocked at the alien sensation. With no basis of comparison, she didn’t know if Trick was truly over-endowed, but his long, thick length filled her to capacity and slightly beyond.
“Are you okay?” Patrick’s voice was hoarse, his breathing as ragged as hers.
“I don’t know. You don’t seem to fit,” she said, wincing a little as he shifted minutely.
“No, baby. I fit perfectly. You’ll get used to me…starting now.” Trick’s hand moved down, kneading her clit with a sure rhythmic motion.
Underneath him, she jerked, electricity shooting through her. Patrick hissed as she clenched down on him. “I’m going to move now, baby. If it doesn’t get better, tell me to stop. Keep watching me.”
His hips lifted, retreating only a few inches before pushing back in. Then he did it again and again, until he was thrusting in and out at a steady rate.
The pain receded. She was still a bit sore, but there was another sensation now—almost as if he were tickling her. It wasn’t unpleasant.
Feeling warmer now, she moved her legs experimentally, tightening them around him. Almost instantly, the tickling became a ripple of pleasure as his cock hit a spot deep in her channel.
A moan rose from deep in her throat. She flexed her hips, her hands clutching at his shoulders.
“That’s it, Ace, sing for me.” Patrick’s voice wasn’t soft anymore. It was clipped and a little hard, which matched his pace as he quickened his thrusts.
She thought it would start hurting again, but each time his body met hers, she felt a pulse of heat. Each stroke built the pleasure, making her seethe and moan. She felt like a bowstring tightening, any moment she was going to break.
“Oh God, Patrick,” she panted, squirming uncontrollably as she wrapped her arms around his chest, clawing his back inadvertently as she began to lose control.
Her eyes were glued to him. She couldn’t tear her eyes away as his cock entered, pushing deep and then back out again. Each time he did, her body responded, pulsing as if clamoring for more.
He didn’t answer, but she could sense his satisfaction. It was in the way he kissed her, pressing his lips to her hairline as his body took and plundered, staking a primal claim she could feel in her blood.
Tahlia forgot all about the long lonely years of sexual repression in a burning flash of sensuality. She rocked in time to Patrick’s thrusts, glorying in his warmth and the rough silk of his skin. Heart beating in time to their rhythm, she ground against him, trying to bring them close enough to meld into each other.
It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. She was as hungry and as wickedly greedy as the man possessing her, both straining to satisfy a hunger months in the making.
The explosion came without warning. Her body seized, clamping down tight on Patrick’s as the violent spasms splintered her senses. She clung to him as he swore, pumping hard and fast, grinding against her. He let go with a shout, totally free and abandoned as liquid warmth flooded her pussy.
He collapsed over her, a sheen covering his heaving chest. A few short pants later, he rolled, taking her with him. She landed on his chest, still intimately connected to him.
“Holy heavenly shit,” he muttered before turning to her. “Are you all right?”
Tahlia could still hear her heartbeat. It was almost thrumming loud enough to drown out his voice. “I think you killed me.”
“You’re kidding, right?” He laughed, still panting. “I thought you were supposed to be a novice. A rank amateur—and you destroyed me.” Sobering, he ran his fingers over her hair. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?”
She took stock before answering. There was a slight burning in her sheath, but overall, she felt great. This pleasant lethargy was new. Is this what people referred to as being spent?
“I’m a little sore, but nothing of note.” A smile teased her lips. Patrick was glowing with sweat, and he wore a slightly dazed expression. “So I did well?”
Patrick’s hand tightened into a fist in her hair. “Let’s put it this way…I’m never letting you go.”
Tahlia shivered, but for the first time in a while, she wasn’t afraid.
The feeling wouldn’t last.
Chapter 20
I rushed her.
Trick studied Tahlia all through breakfast. She was distracted, staring off into space. Twice, she stopped eating, the fork halfway to her mouth.
Damn it. This wasn’t how this was supposed to go. Watching Tahlia discover the pleasure of sex, getting to be the one to teach her, made for an amazing week, the very best of his life. But while she certainly enjoyed everything they did, Tahlia was sometimes downcast after. And he’d been too much of a coward to ask why.
It will be okay. If she were having second thoughts about him, he’d just have to give her third thoughts until she was where he was.
For the first time in his life, Trick was in love. He’d known for a while, but he had yet to say it aloud. That was probably a good thing. If she was feeling skittish, telling her the truth might terrify her.
The fork paused a third time. Trick put his hand on Tahlia’s wrist, urging her to put the fork down. “Ace, tell me what’s wrong.”
Her lashes flickered. “Nothing.”
Trick’s lips tightened. Pulling his chair closer to her, he held her hand in both of his. “Tahlia, I know things have gone a little fast for us. You must be overwhelmed. If you want to slow things down…” He gritted his teeth. “Then I’m fine with that.”
He hoped she wouldn’t call him out for lying.
Tahlia squeezed his hand and gave him a bracing smile. “That’s not it.”
“Then it’s your family,” he decided.
She sighed, silently confirming his second guess was the correct one. “You don’t have to worry about them anymore. You’re safe here. I know it’s a little rough being cooped up all the time, but that won’t last forever. And if it takes longer than we want, and you get sick of this view, we’ll hop on the company jet and I’ll give you another one. Or we can sneak away to Vegas or Monte Carlo. You can beat the pants off me at a real casino.”
Tahlia leaned back in her chair. “I’m not worried about me. Or rather, I’m so used to worrying about myself, it’s basically just background noise in the back of my brain now.”
“So what’s wrong?”
“You.”
A punch to the groin couldn’t have hurt more.
“No, not like that.” Tahlia stood and rushed over to him, climbing into his lap, her arms squeezing him hard around the neck. “I’m worried about you.”
She leaned back to meet his eyes. “I was never allowed to be close to anyone—not even members of my own family. I was always kept separate. They watched me like a hawk. If I even got close to anyone, they would scare them away, even after I left for school. I could never have a relationship under those circumstances. I don’t know what they’ll do when they find out about you.”
“Is that what this is all about?” Trick couldn’t decide if he was relieved or not. “Tahlia, I can take
care of myself. You’re the one we need to protect.”
She gave him pitying glance. “Patrick, there is no doubt in my mind that if they could, they would hurt you—or worse. They might try to kill you out of spite for helping, let alone being involved with me. I would put nothing past them.”
His hands rubbed her back. “I am being careful, and this threat won’t last forever. Trust me.”
Her expression didn’t clear. She pursed her lips, her eyes darker than their usual silver blue. “I do trust you. But don’t underestimate them. You can’t fight crazy.”
There was more she wasn’t saying, but he didn’t want to press her. Though they hadn’t been together long, he’d already learned that questioning Tahlia was the least effective way to get her to open it. It was better to wait and gently nudge.
His patience was slowly being rewarded. Though she hadn’t told him much about her extended family, he’d learned she had a stepmother and younger brother, but both died when she was young. He’d tried to coax more out of her, but the only person she wanted to talk about was the housekeeper slash nanny who raised her.
“If it hadn’t been for Ama, I’d have never learned anything about the world,” she’d told him in bed one night. “She let me watch soap operas in her bedroom off the kitchen. Between her and the television, I learned the basics of just about everything—reading, cooking, cards. Ama showed me how to take care of myself.”
“What happened to her?” he asked.
“I don’t know.” The desolate note in her voice nearly broke his heart. “My father told me she went back home to Cuba. But it was shortly after child protective services showed up. Someone had reported the fact I wasn’t in school, and I wasn’t registered for home education with the state so they came to investigate. Afterward, my father hired a tutor for me. I wanted to go to school, so I was secretly thrilled. At least up until Ama disappeared.”
Trick tightened his hold on her, pulling her waist until she was pressed against him in the bed. “When was this?”
Her head tilted back. “I think I was nine or ten. I just woke up one day and Ama wasn’t there.”
Seeing her now, with all her success in school, Trick could hardly believe her formal education began so late. From half-hearted homeschooling to a math degree from Harvard… Somehow, Tahlia more than made up for the time lost.
Of course, her housekeeper probably had a lot to do with that. Despite her position as a domestic, this Ama woman had given Tahlia the grounding she needed to overcome her sad and peculiar childhood. Some of the staff at the hotel did the same for him and Maggie after they lost their parents.
Trick made a mental note to try to discover what happened to the poor woman. If it was bad—if she ended up like Tahlia’s dad—well, then, there was no reason to tell her the truth. But maybe he’d get lucky.
I might find the old woman alive and well in Cuba. Stranger things had happened.
Tahlia hugged her Ph.D. advisor, trying not to cry.
She was going to get her degree. Since she’d missed so much school, Tahlia assumed her dreams of a doctorate in Mathematics were over. But Patrick insisted on investigating the matter. He had invited her advisor, Dr. Karen Sattler, over for dinner.
Though they had a cordial working relationship, Tahlia was unprepared for the tears Dr. Sattler shed at seeing her alive and well.
“I’m so sorry I worried you,” she said, a lump in her throat, as Dr. Sattler openly wept on her shoulder.
Patrick and Liam, who were both in attendance, stared at each other as if they didn’t know what to do.
“It’s not your fault, my dear,” Dr. Sattler said, patting her grey hair in an effort to pull herself together. “I’ve been interviewed by those nice FBI officers. I know a little about of what you’ve been facing, and I don’t blame you for not getting in touch.” She wiped her eyes, her sniff more disdainful than pained.
“And after speaking to some of your heinous relations, I can only wish you luck.”
Tahlia could feel the blood draining from her face. “You’ve spoken to them?”
“Yes, your uncle Lucas and his attorneys called me several times,” Dr. Sattler said with a shudder.
“What did he want?” Patrick frowned darkly.
He looks a lot more like Liam when he does that, Tahlia observed.
“He was trying to find out if I knew where she was, of course,” Dr. Sattler said, sitting down on at the table with the upright carriage and British stiff upper lip Tahlia remembered her for.
Trick came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist as the older woman continued.
“I was glad I couldn’t tell him anything. That man set my teeth on edge over the phone.” Dr. Sattler’s thin lips were almost a nonexistent seam. “He was all sweetness and light at first. He said he wanted to discuss your work in an effort to be close to you. But then he repeatedly tried to order me to call him if I heard anything about you, I reported him to campus security for harassment. After that, I only heard from his attorney.”
Tahlia sat in stunned silence. Suddenly, she was cold, her fingers icy.
“I had no idea he’d reached out to you,” she said in a hoarse voice.
Trick exchanged another loaded glance with his brother. She could practically see them flexing their muscles as if they were girding themselves for battle.
She wondered how many others Lucas reached out to. Dr. Sattler was no fool, but for many other people, she knew it would have been easy for Lucas to pass off his aggressive behavior as concern for his missing niece.
Still uneasy, she lapsed into silence, letting Patrick and Liam monopolize the conversation. They effortlessly soothed Dr. Sattler’s jangled nerves, deftly steering talk back to the possibility of finishing her doctorate.
“It’s not going to be a problem,” her advisor assured her between bites of a delicious seafood risotto. “You’ve done so much good work toward the degree. A few more passes of the manuscript might be in order before we submit it to your committee for approval, but I think it would be a formality at this point.”
“That’s great news.” Trick beamed at her, reaching over to squeeze Tahlia’s hand.
She returned his smile, but the effort was hollow. Mention of her uncle had soured the evening.
Her work at Harvard had always been her safe space. No one in her family, aside from her father, ever asked about her work. And he hadn’t wanted to hear the details. All he’d cared about was that she excelled, not so much what she excelled in. Just knowing Lucas asked about her work made it seem sordid. She knew her reaction was irrational, but she couldn’t seem to help herself.
Patrick’s brother cleared his throat. “Once everything is official, you should talk with our HR department. We can always find a place for talented people.”
“Oh, leave her alone.” Patrick threw a napkin at him. “Tahlia’s degree is in crazy high-level math, not hotel hospitality. Stop trying to recruit my girlfriend.”
“Why?” Liam asked bluntly. “I think she would be a great asset. She could do so many things in the organization.”
“We already under-utilize great talent, or have you forgotten how bored Peyton’s been lately?” Trick asked, serving her more wine.
“If Peyton wants more to do, all she has to do is ask,” Liam grumbled in the gravel-filled bear voice he reserved for discussing their IT superstar.
“I’m just saying Tahlia doesn’t need you pressuring her. She should get a chance to explore all her options—think tanks and stuff like that.”
Tahlia exchanged a smile with Dr. Sattler. “Sorry. All Trick knows about math careers, he learned from Good Will Hunting.” She snickered, successfully pulled out of her melancholia by the brothers’ banter.
“I’m nearly three times your age and I still get pigeonholed by that movie, too,” Dr. Sattler said, making them all laugh.
Later that night, she was alone with Trick in his office. He sat at his desk as she walked along the wall beh
ind him, trailing her fingers along the bottom edge of the framed pictures. They showcased each of the hotels in the Caislean chain.
Their original intention had been to have a drink on the hotel’s rooftop garden, but a sudden spat of rainy snow nixed that plan. Now they were sharing a glass of cognac to chase the chill away.
“That’s our hotel in Sydney,” Patrick said as she paused to examine the dramatic skyline behind a grand six-story building. Part of the distinctive Sydney opera house gleamed behind it.
“You don’t usually see the back of this building,” she observed, taking a big sip of her drink. She closed her eyes as the liquor washed through her body, spreading its artificial liquid heat.
“We can see it in person from whatever angle you want. Just say the word.”
A corner of her mouth lifted. She stepped closer, brushing her legs against his knees. The alcohol was making her limbs heavy, but not unpleasantly so. She rather liked how her skin tingled when she touched Patrick, a sensation magnified by the cognac.
The hungry heat in his eyes was at odds with the fact he hadn’t moved to touch her since sitting down. Then she noticed something.
“Are you sitting on your hands?” Was he that cold?
He grinned. “Sometimes I just like looking at you. But my hands don’t want to cooperate. They’re itching to tear that dress off.”
A blush crept up her body. Tahlia downed the rest of her cognac, wincing as it burned her throat.
“Sorry, it’s the kind of drink you sip.” Patrick laughed, patting her on the back when she coughed.
“Well, I need my hands free,” she said, setting the glass down on the desk before climbing on his lap, pushing her back against his chest.
His desk was littered with personal photos. Next to pictures of him and his siblings was one of Patrick by himself at a poker table next to Maia’s husband.
She picked it up with a smile. “You’re so young here.”
“It was my twenty-first birthday. I decided to spend it gambling, legally, for the first time.”