Big Dick

by Selena Kitt

  “Harder,” she whispered, grinding against him. “I won’t break.”

  He chuckled, but he gave her what she wanted, bottoming out with every thrust, making her keen with pleasure. Her voice rose, her moans turning to shrieks. Someone might hear them—she could imagine Elsa suddenly knocking, demanding to be let in—but she didn’t care.

  She was too gone.

  He shattered her with every movement and she heard him groan as he lost himself too, pumping harder, needing to possess her completely. Knowing she was about to make him come pushed her over the edge.

  Annalesa managed to pull the corner of the pillow into her mouth to muffle her scream as her climax crashed through her body, making her head snap back against his shoulder. As she rode the peak, every muscle wound tight, she felt him come hard inside her, burying his moans of pleasure in her hair.

  It took a long time for him to come down and he made no move to slide out of her. Even when he was soft, she loved the fullness of him inside, and the weight of his arms pulling her close. She relished the moment, utterly amazed at the way everything else fell away when they were like this.

  She heard his breathing, deep and even, and knew he’d drifted off. Tucked into the safety of his arms, she closed her eyes and let herself relax.

  It wasn’t that she’d forgotten about what had happened with Jenny—that little stunt had given her a lot to think about—but being physical with Ric made it hard to think at all.

  It was late, and she was buzzed with alcohol, and the adrenaline that had been pumping through her veins had finally begun to settle. There’d be time to think—and talk—about it tomorrow. She had a lot to say to Ric about his little set-up, and she knew he wouldn’t be happy about it. But it had to be said.

  For now, though, she was content to fall asleep in his arms.

  Chapter 9

  Annalesa woke to the sound of an alarm. The first thing she noticed was that Ric wasn’t snuggled beside her and she turned, craning her head, to see him sitting up nude on the edge of the bed, checking his phone.

  “What’s up?” she mumbled sleepily, reaching her fingers out to graze the beautifully inked skin of his back.

  “It’s not you.” His profile was hard, his face taut.

  “Ric—”

  “I hate morning emergencies.” He put his phone on the bedside table and rolled over to kiss her, his face relaxing again as if just sharing space with her made him happy. And that made her happy. It made her want to purr like a kitten. “Just business. Dad needs back-up. I better grab a shower and find Elsa to say goodbye before I go.”

  She stayed in bed, conflicted, staring at the ceiling as he cleaned up, dressed and gathered all his stuff. As he zipped in and out of rooms, flashing her a smile each time he passed the bed, she felt another great thump of affection, feeling safe beneath the sheets that still smelled of him. She gathered them around her shoulders and turned onto her side, trying to ignore that nagging, stifling feeling that she’d given in to him way too easily last night. Her body had betrayed her. There’d been far more she needed to say about the stunt he’d pulled.

  She was glad she’d stood up to Jenny—and Ric had given her the opportunity to do it in a way she’d never done back in high school. She almost felt bad about the cruel things that had come out of her mouth. She’d never been one of the “mean girls” before. Part of her felt grateful to Ric, because that moment had been incredibly cathartic.

  But another part of her...

  So she’d stood up to Jenny. Great, she had a spine after all. But how much of one? Because the one person she’d really needed to stand up to was Ric. He’d orchestrated the events of last night like a maestro, waving his baton and hitting all the right notes. How long had he been planning this thing? It couldn’t have been spur of the moment...

  You chickenshit. Why didn’t you say something to him?

  She knew she should have, but she couldn’t—at least not last night. She didn’t have the strength to fracture the fragile shell of what they’d begun to build. Their relationship was so new, it was like they were cocooned together, with a barrier between them and the rest of the world that was so thin it was almost translucent. Did she dare say something and risk cracking something so delicate and newly formed?

  “Hey.” Ric hunkered down beside the bed and stroked her hair off her face. She loved the way his fingertips grazed her skin. “Gonna miss you.”

  “Me too.” She let herself get lost in his eyes, which seemed to have a softness exclusively meant for her.

  Tell him. You’re still mad—you know you are. Tell him how you feel.

  “It’ll be a couple days before I’ll have time to call you.” He sounded as regretful as she felt at his words. “But I will, as soon as I can. I promise.”

  Tell him! Don’t let him run the game!

  “Ric...” She swallowed. “I need to—”

  “And you were right, last night.” He winced a little at the memory. “I shouldn’t have forced you to do that—to face your demons. At least without some warning. I’m sorry.”

  His eyes were sincere and relief and gratitude swept through her, making her feel giddy. She wouldn’t have to say anything after all—he already understood how she felt and he’d apologized. That was enough for her.

  “I wish you could stay.” She stood to wrap her arms around him, inhaling his scent and imprinting the memory of his body against hers until she saw him again. “I want to wrap myself up in you and wear you like a coat.”

  “That’s not creepy.” He chuckled, wrapping his arms around her and lifting her up so he could feather kisses over her shoulders. “But I know what you mean. I feel like I could eat you alive.”

  “Nope, not creepy.” She laughed and he kissed her, a long, lingering, desperately greedy kiss.

  His tongue did things to her mouth that made her toes curl and her nipples harden against his chest. She was still nude and he was fully clothed, a situation that made her want to drag him back to bed.

  “Evil temptress,” he groaned when her hand slipped over his trousers to find him impossibly hard. “I have to go.”

  “So go.” She sighed, dropping down out of his arms and climbing back into bed. She felt him watching her languorous movements and glanced over her shoulder at him. His gaze moved over her body, then swept up to meet hers.

  “Evil,” he said again with a shake of his head.

  She squeaked when he rolled her to her back and covered her all the way up to her chin, forcefully tucking the comforter around her.

  “There.” He nodded, satisfied. “Now be a good girl and let me go.”

  “Never.” She wiggled her arms out so she could throw them around his neck and hold on. He kissed her again, a sweet, slow exploration, like he had all the time in the world to do this, if nothing else.

  “Goodbye, temptress,” he whispered when they parted.

  “Call me,” she urged as he brushed a kiss on the top of her head. “Soon.”

  “I will.”

  Then he was off.

  She showered in a daze and joined her mother downstairs at the breakfast table. Elsa looked amazingly lively for someone who should be suffering from a monumental hangover.

  “Bad news from the States,” Elsa said before she’d even sat down. Annalesa had been prepared to grill her mother about last night’s revelation. “Poor Brad’s only just gone to bed after a whole day trying to move stocks and funds around to help Jon Church.”

  “Jon who?” Annalesa frowned, trying to remember who that was. Brad had a zillion rich friends and there was no way she could keep them all straight. Was this the emergency Ric had to run off to attend to? “What’s happened?”

  “You don’t know?” Her mother blinked at her in disbelief. Then she flapped a hand in apology, pouring coffee for both of them. “Sorry, darling. I forget US news doesn’t always hop over the pond. Jon’s one of Brad’s steel suppliers. Two of Jon’s cousins—or second cousins, whatever—married
‘in secret’ on Friday, and naturally the ick-factor has splashed the news all over the tabloids. Brad’s doing what he can to buy Jon’s shares up and keep them safe until the dust settles.”

  “That’s good of him.” Annalesa sipped her coffee. Two cousins marrying—was that such a horrible scandal, really? People were so judgmental.

  “Well, he’s not going to abandon an old friend. Poor Jon, seeing his livelihood destroyed just because of a couple of perverts in the family.”

  Annalesa choked and winced as hot coffee spilled over wrist. She put the cup down hurriedly, wiping herself with the napkin.

  Well, so much for Elsa’s silent, coded permission last night to follow her heart. If she’d known it was Ric that Annalesa had fallen for, she’d obviously change her tune pretty quick. If a marriage of cousins was ‘perverse’, God only knew what her mother would make of her feelings for her stepbrother.

  “Are you all right, darling? You’re terribly pale this morning.”

  “Just hung over.” Annalesa forced a wan smile and tried again with the coffee.

  The caffeine kicked in after a few minutes and she was able to keep up a stream of light, convincing chatter until they’d finished breakfast and said their goodbyes. Her mother refused to say anything more about her and Brad, except that things were “getting interesting.” Annalesa had to settle for that.

  She gathered all her belongings in the hotel room and found a small, hand-written note from Ric on Savoy-headed paper on the coffee table.

  Meant it when I said I was sorry. I’ll make it up to you. R xx

  She smiled as she slipped it into her bag, but couldn’t shake off a nagging, hollow feeling. It stayed with her all the way back to the private Paris Le-Bourget airport. The way he’d made love to her last night and said goodbye left her with no doubt about his feelings for her. His note gave her hope too, that she’d gotten her message across.

  He knew now, that his plan for her to “prove” herself to him had crossed the line. Surely, this would be the end of it. She’d stood up to Jenny—and she’d stood up to him. Well, maybe that was too strong a term. She’d... sat up to him?

  Ugh.

  Anyway, he knew she had been upset by his “plan.” And he’d apologized. That was enough, wasn’t it?

  What if it isn’t? What if he just wants you to keep “proving” yourself to him, over and over and over?

  She clutched her bag to her chest on the plane, trying to ignore the voice in her head. Instead, she focused on the changes in him. Not just the physical ones—those mattered far less to her, to be honest, than the internal ones. He’d listened to her last night when she lashed out at him. Yes, he’d been initially angry, but he cooled off and heard her. He didn’t walk away and leave her. That was new.

  Only because he got what he wanted. His plan worked. He got you to prove your loyalty. How many hoops are you willing to jump through for him?

  Okay, but she’d stood up for herself. In a way she never had before—and it wasn’t just for him. It had been for her too. Granted, it had been a shock—she hadn’t been ready to exorcise those demons. But was anyone ever really ready for something like that? You had to roll with the punches. So to speak.

  And she’d be lying to herself if she didn’t admit that it had felt bloody good to finally put Jenny in her place.

  Her thoughts drifted to the reason Ric had taken off so quickly—the “perverted” cousins who had dared to get married. You couldn’t choose who loved though. Sometimes it just happened. Her mother had pointed out the cute guy at the bar to her the night before, but Annalesa hadn’t even looked twice at him. But she would have, before. Things had changed.

  Now there was Ric, and he was all she could see. He eclipsed everyone and everything else. No matter how angry she was at him, it was Ric’s face she saw when she closed her eyes, the only one she cared about. Especially when it was lit up with a smile of pride like it had been the night before.

  It was a smile she should have earned years ago.

  That realization hit her with the force of a blow and she gasped out loud, staring around the cabin as if there might be someone there she could tell it to. But there was no one. She was on a private jet, and there was no one but the wait staff. Besides, who would understand? She didn’t even understand.

  All those years, she’d chosen everyone else over Ric.

  Yeah, so Ryan’s jaw had been broken—but Ric had done it to protect her. Ryan hadn’t deserved to have her go with him to the hospital.

  And her so-called ‘friends’ hadn’t deserved the benefit of the doubt when they denied being cruel to Ric.

  She should have been by his side, on his side, all along.

  And she hadn’t been. Until now.

  Annalesa grabbed her bag as the steps were wheeled over to the Gulfstream door. She was done with the customs office in no time, and in the chauffeur’s car a moment later, pouring herself a coffee. Private flights were way more relaxing than commercial ones.

  She sighed. If she could put that horrible meeting room incident aside, the weekend had been perfect. She couldn’t ignore the fact that Ric had gone to great lengths to make their weekend together before the party absolutely perfect. That was a lot of time, commitment and care.

  Could she really blame him for needing “proof” that she was on his side? After everything he’d been through? That they’d been through together?

  When they pulled up outside her garret apartment, she ran up the stairs, feeling much happier about having made a simple decision.

  She would do what she had to do to prove it to him—with or without fears.

  Ric was going to be hard work, there was no question of that, but she was far advanced in the art of walking on and around eggshells. She’d done it her whole life. So she might have a lot to prove to him, to help him to heal. His body had healed and he had the scars to prove it. Now she needed to help him heal his soul.

  And it would be a nice little bonus to prove that Arensen was wrong when he claimed nobody in life could be trusted. She wanted Ric to be able to turn around to his cynical mentor and say, “You know what, there is someone I can totally trust.”

  She wanted to be that person for him.

  And whatever it took, she was willing to provide him with all the evidence he needed to do that.

  Away on a mission, comms will be tough. Will get in touch when I can.

  Annalesa stared at the brief text again, as if it might say something different than the last twenty times she’d read it that week. Ric had warned her he would be out of touch—and true to his word, she hadn’t had so much as an email.

  Quite a few University friends had posted birthday greetings on her Facebook wall, but the silence from Ric was deafening. It was a little deflating to think she might not even hear from him today, let alone see him.

  She sighed and shut down her laptop, her eyes burning from hours of posting pictures of her new apartments on University websites. She’d spent the week furnishing the new properties. It had kept her nicely busy, but not so preoccupied she didn’t snatch her phone out at laser speed each time it buzzed.

  Annalesa changed into running clothes, hoping a little fresh air and a few endorphins would take her mind off her disappointment.

  She locked up and set off at a gentle jog, her iPod blaring in her ears, shutting out the rest of the world. The rhythm of running lulled her as it always did these days, when she had too much on her mind, and her imagination returned to the array of images she’d created of Ric being ‘on a mission.’

  She saw him approaching a house at a crouch, light on his feet, his Brann Jotun in hand. There would be a mercenary at the door, shocked into dropping his cigarette as Ric slipped up from behind and folded him easily and silently down to the ground with a grip to the neck, incapacitating but not wounding him. The door would be locked, of course, and Ric would silently beckon for cover as he reared back and kicked the door in. And then there would be chaos—he’d thunder
through the house, taking the bad guys out of action, grease paint smeared all over his—

  Wait—did they use grease-paint for urban rescues? Probably not. That was much more a foresty-thing.

  Fine, so he’d be in full tactical gear, an imposing figure in black, taking out mercenaries left, right and center until reaching a room where a terrified woman and default-adorable-toddler cowered beneath a bed. As soon as the house was cleared, the softer, gentler Ric would emerge as he eased the frightened pair out from their hiding place, threw a blanket around the mother and carried the huge-eyed tot to his—

  Her music cut out, snapping her out of her Rambo-Ric fantasy and she stopped at the corner of the road, wriggling the jack of the headset in the iPod to get the connection back. It wouldn’t play ball. Sighing, she headed back to her apartment at a lighter jog. At least now she knew what to put on her self-bought birthday list.

  As she reached her door, her postman was at the ground floor mailbox, grimacing at the small gap and the board-reinforced 11x15 envelope in his hand. He was also holding a bunch of colorful greeting cards. He nodded at her as she pulled her keys from her sweatpants.

  Grinning, he handed her the mail. “Bonne anniversaire?”

  “Oui. Merci, Marcel.”

  He cast a not-so-subtle look at her backside as she unlocked the door and made her way in.

  Back upstairs, she put her little stack of cards on the kitchen table, intrigued by the white envelope. Her address had been laser-printed and there was no return address. It was pretty weighty for a flat package—several ounces, at least. She made a coffee and sat down to examine it more carefully. Inside was a buff, letter-sized archival envelope with a tiny icon in the left hand corner of two swords crossed over a scroll.

  It wasn’t an archival brand she recognized, but it looked very Norse.

  Very Ric.

  A grin took her face hostage and it was everything she could do to stop herself from tearing it open to see what was inside. It was held shut with a ribbon wrapped around a cardboard button—no adhesive. Whatever was inside was clearly precious. She had to stop and take a breath—prepare her work area first.