Easy Love

by Kristen Proby

  Convenient.

  His erection springs free into my hand, and I immediately grip it and pump it twice. Eli tosses his head back and groans, then turns his hot eyes back on me as I slowly lick from his scrotum to the tip in one long, fluid motion and rub the underside of the head on the flat of my tongue before taking him in my mouth and sucking, not too hard, but enough to get his attention.

  And by the way his hand tightens in my hair, right at the scalp, where it feels so darn good when he pulls, I’ve got his attention.

  “Fuck, that feels good.”

  I take him deeper, until the head is at the back of my throat, and I swallow, massaging him, loving the way it seems to grow even bigger in my mouth, firm my lips and pull up, lick the head, and repeat the motion.

  “Look at me.”

  My eyes find his. They’re hot, narrowed just a bit. His mouth is open as he pants. The hand not gripping my hair is behind his head, and his whole body is heaving.

  It’s sexy as hell that I can turn him on like this after just a few moments.

  I lick down his shaft and over his tight balls, lightly suck them, then work my way back up to take him into my mouth once again. He begins to gently guide me into a pace that he likes, barely thrusting up to meet me. Not forcing me, but rather guiding me, and I love it.

  “Grip your lips just a little tighter.”

  I comply and he hisses out a breath.

  “Fuck, baby.” His hips are moving faster, and suddenly, he’s pulling my hair, but I stay where I am. “Kate, I don’t want to come in your mouth.”

  I hum and stubbornly stay put, but after only two more pushes and pulls with my mouth, he grips onto my shoulders and pulls me up his body, claims my mouth with his, and effortlessly reverses our position, pinning me beneath him on the cushions of the couch.

  “I was having fun,” I pout.

  “That’s not how this works, cher.” He nibbles my lips, brushes his nose over mine, and then plants soft kisses on my cheek.

  “How what works?” I ask breathlessly. Good God, this man can kiss. Is this legal in the state of Louisiana?

  Probably not.

  “This.” He repeats softly as he continues to pepper my skin with kisses. “You’re not going to just suck me off and make me come and call it a day.”

  “Well, that wasn’t really my plan. I was just having fun.”

  “Hmm.” He kisses my collarbone. “I’ll be back. I don’t have a condom on me.”

  “Wait.” I grip his arms, keeping him still. “I have the birth control covered.”

  He raises a brow. “Are you sure? I don’t mind using them.” He kisses my collarbone again. “I’ve never not used them.”

  “I don’t mind,” I whisper. “Unless there’s something you need to tell me.”

  He offers me a wicked smile and kisses me deeply.

  I glide my hands down his naked back to his ass, under his loose jeans, and hold on tight as he presses his pelvis to mine, grinding against me and making me even wetter, if that’s even possible. Is there anything sexier than a man’s ass when it’s barely covered by undone jeans?

  No. No, there’s not.

  “Eli,” I whisper.

  “Yes, baby.”

  “My clothes are still on.”

  He grins against my lips and settles over me, his elbows planted on either side of my head. “Yes, they are.”

  “Take them off,” I demand softly and wiggle beneath him, still gripping his ass, and the arch of my foot rubbing over his denim-covered calf.

  “No.”

  He grips onto my hair and tilts my head to the side as he drags his lips down my jawline to my neck and proceeds to drive me out of my ever-loving mind with his talented mouth and tongue. My nipples have puckered, my hands grip him tighter, one still on his ass, the other now buried in his soft hair.

  My hips tilt up, pressing against his hard on, and I want him inside me.

  Now.

  “Eli, please. Need you inside me.”

  “I’ll get there,” he replies lazily, and works his way around to the other side of my neck.

  “Can we go a bit faster here?” I ask breathlessly, and then groan when his tongue skims over my sweet spot. “God, I love it when you hit that spot.”

  “I know,” he whispers and does it again, making my toes curl.

  “Eli.” I’m whining, and I hate myself for it, but for the love of all that’s holy, why isn’t he naked and inside me?

  “Kate,” he says and bites the tender skin at the top of my shoulder. “It’s Sunday.”

  I frown, but then sigh when he finally pulls my shirt up my body and guides it over my head. “What does the day of the week have to do with anything?”

  He pulls the cups of my bra down and slowly circles one puckered nipple with his tongue, then blows on it and repeats the motion on the other side.

  Moving as slowly as humanly possible.

  He’s trying to kill me.

  “You’re in the South. Don’t you know that we don’t do anything quickly on Sunday?” He’s kissing down my stomach now, and I’m a bit self-conscious because hello, I don’t have a six pack. Or any kind of pack.

  But he doesn’t seem to mind as he moves down my body, and I’m expecting him to pull my denim shorts off, but instead, he bypasses the center of my universe and begins kissing my legs.

  My legs.

  “Really?” I demand with a laugh, earning a sharp bite on the inside of my right thigh.

  “Patience, Kate.”

  “Not patient.”

  He chuckles and drags his fingernails down my outer thighs, calves, to my bare feet and back up again while his mouth does something completely crazy to the back of my knee.

  Apparently, he didn’t find all of my erogenous zones yesterday.

  “Oh, my God,” I murmur, and can’t keep my hips from shifting and moving. He’s going to make me come without even touching me.

  How is that possible?

  “Open your eyes, sugar.” My gaze meets his, and I’m surprised to find his eyes on fire, watching me as he unzips my shorts, guides them down my legs, and tosses them over his shoulder. “No underwear for you either?”

  I shrug and smile at him, but he doesn’t return it. He’s still watching me intently, braced on the back of the couch, as his fingers glide up my inner thigh and brush, ever so gently, over my lips, my clit, and then…my stomach.

  Really? He’s not going to hang out in the one place that’s screaming for him?

  I must frown because a wicked smile breaks out over that impossibly handsome face of his and he cocks a brow. “You don’t like that?”

  “You’re teasing me.”

  “Yes.” He watches my face as his fingers find my core again, but it’s just his fingertips tickling over my lips, the crease where my leg meets my center. I reach for his wrist to guide him inside, but he quickly grips my hand in his, kisses it, and places it above my head. “You’re not controlling this.” His lips are barely touching my own. “You’re going to be patient, and enjoy. It’s Sunday.”

  “You’ve never been lazy on a Sunday in your life,” I whisper against his lips. Jesus, I can’t catch my breath.

  I’m going to die of asphyxiation before I get to come. That’s not fair.

  “There’s a first for everything,” he replies softly, bites my lower lip, then resumes the torture happening between my legs. He glances down. “Fuck me, you’re wet.”

  “That happens when you do stuff to me,” I reply and circle my hips.

  “Stuff?” he repeats. “What kind of stuff?”

  I’m not strong enough to fight him on my language. I don’t care if I swear. All I can focus on is having him over me, in me. Now.

  “When you kiss me and touch me and tease me with fucking me,” I reply, and feel very satisfied when his eyes widen.

  “I do love hearing those filthy words come out of your pretty mouth,” he murmurs in that slow Cajun accent that makes me crazy. His fi
ngers are rubbing my lips harder now, gliding effortlessly through my wet folds. Finally, he scoots down, kisses my navel piercing, slides one finger inside me, and plants his mouth on my clit, not sucking, just being and I cry out, gripping the cushions at my hips, pushing my hips up to grind on his lips.

  He pulls the finger back out, and gently licks over my lips, clit and folds, plants the flat of his tongue over my clit, and pushes two fingers inside me; I push up onto my elbows, watching as he turns me inside out.

  “Oh, my God, Eli, you’re gonna make me…”

  He pulls away, kisses me between my navel and pubis, and grins when I growl at him.

  “Your pussy is so soft,” he says, as though he’s just making casual conversation. His fingers are moving in and out, slowly, methodically. If he’d just press his thumb on my sweet spot, I’d come spectacularly.

  But I have a feeling that’s not going to happen yet.

  “You have this spot…” he shoves his fingers all the way in, and makes a come here motion that makes me see stars. “Right behind your pubic bone. Don’t close your eyes,” he orders. I look up at him as his fingers pick up speed. He’s watching me as he pushes on that spot again.

  “How didn’t I know about this spot before?” I ask breathlessly, and then cry out when he settles the tips of his fingers there and rubs gently.

  His eyes flare in male satisfaction. “You’re good for my ego, cher.”

  “You’re good for my,” I swallow, “pussy.”

  “Fuck yes, I am.” He rubs a little harder and I arch up off the couch. “Come, baby.”

  And that’s all it takes, his voice, his breath on my skin, his fingers doing crazy amazing things inside me, and I come apart. I go blind, my core tightens, and I ride the wave of the orgasm as it shoots through me.

  When I open my eyes, Eli is smiling down at me. He pulls his fingers out and covers me, guides himself inside me until he’s balls-deep, and stays there, not moving.

  I grip onto his cock with my muscles and grin when he swears under his breath. His jeans are still on, which for some reason, I find very sexy.

  Everything about him is fucking sexy.

  I grip his ass and pulse against him. “Move, Eli.”

  He shakes his head and tips his forehead against mine. “Not yet.”

  His whiskey eyes are trained on mine. He watches me as he pulls his hips back, then pushes back in slowly. “Your face is so expressive,” he whispers. “And this feels so fucking amazing.”

  “The ridge of your cock rubs against that spot you’ve discovered,” I whisper.

  “Like that?” His smile is more than a little naughty.

  “So good.”

  I bite my lip and tighten on him as he drags in and out of me. His eyes are on me, hands buried in my hair, gripping onto my scalp as he moves, and it occurs to me: this is what the fuss is all about. This is how a woman is supposed to be touched, looked at.

  Respected.

  Protected.

  It’s so unfamiliar to me, and sad at the same time, because I was married damn it, and I had no idea. How is it that sex with the man I was supposed to love was just…empty? And sex with Eli is…everything?

  But Eli and I agreed. No love. Just fun.

  This has an expiration date.

  “Stop,” he demands and begins to move faster, a bit harder.

  “Stop what?”

  “Thinking.” He does something with his hips that has me gasping for breath, and in this moment, I can’t remember my own name. “Grip my cock, Kate.”

  He pulls one of my legs up onto his shoulder to open me wider, and he sinks deeper inside, bumping my pubis with his, and holy shit, I see stars.

  “Eli.”

  “That’s right, baby.” He smiles down at me. “You’re amazing. I can see it building. Come for me.”

  I bite my lip and close my eyes, bear down on him, and fall apart all over again, shocked that it’s so soon.

  “Fuck,” he whispers as he cups my ass and clutches me close to him, grinding inside me as he finds his own release. “Fuck, Kate.”

  “Yes,” I sigh. “You just fucked Kate.”

  “As soon as I can move, you’re getting spanked for that.”

  “You like it when I say fuck.”

  “I like spanking you too.”

  I feel him grin against my chest where he’s resting and smile in return. I rather like the spanking myself.

  I like Eli. And that could be dangerous.

  Chapter Thirteen

  I’m gonna spank your ass for that.

  And, boy, did he.

  I grin and bite the end of my pen as I sit at my desk. I had a productive morning, but now all I can do is daydream about being at the inn…Making love until the wee hours of the morning…Breakfast with Gabby and a very chatty Sam…Walking in the gardens.

  Eli finding my G-spot.

  I also thought that was a myth. Apparently, I was wrong.

  So very wrong.

  I giggle and touch my suddenly very warm cheeks. Is it hot in here?

  “Hilary!” Mr. Rudolph calls from his office, and I roll my eyes. That’s the third time today that he’s called me Hilary.

  Seriously, I’ve been here for three weeks. Shouldn’t he have figured out by now that I’m not Hilary? Kate isn’t a hard name to learn.

  I walk briskly into his office. “My name is Kate, Mr. Rudolph.”

  He glances up and flicks his hand, as if it doesn’t matter. “Whatever. I need you to run the month end tax reports for payroll.” He goes on about the other tasks he wants me to handle—tasks that are normally his—and keeps checking his watch. He seems twitchy. Nervous. Even his brow is sweaty.

  He’s kind of creepy.

  But then, he looks up at me, and his brown eyes are kind.

  “Thanks for doing all of this. Kate, right?”

  I nod and turn to leave his office, my to-do list out of control.

  “I’m leaving for the rest of the afternoon,” he informs me, as he follows me out of his office and closes and locks the door. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  He wipes his fingers over his mouth and hurries out, and I’m just…pissed. It must be nice to not have to work much. The man is out of the office more than he’s in it. He leaves every day at 1:30, like clockwork. Which really annoys me. Why would Eli have someone with such a poor work ethic working for him?

  I set the list Mr. Rudolph just handed me aside, and decide to get some of my own work done. I examine the spreadsheet of all of the transfers of large sums of money that are unaccounted for so far, and try to find a common link. The amounts are all different. They range in size of a few hundred dollars to several thousand. It seems that lately, they’ve gotten bigger. One was almost ten thousand dollars. But they’re not sent on the same day, or even on a regular schedule.

  The only consistent thing is that they’re transfers to Western Union. No name on these reports.

  Don’t you have to have an I.D. to pick up money from Western Union? I call a local branch, and sure enough.

  Okay, who were they sent to?

  Just as I’m about to start digging to find a name, something else occurs to me. The time of day the transfers were made were all around 1:00 in the afternoon, give or take a minute or two. I flip through them all, and sure enough, every single one is around the same time.

  Interesting.

  I glance at the time on the computer and frown. Mr. Rudolph leaves at 1:30 almost every day. I find each transaction in the computer, and I search for the name of the recipient at Western Union.

  H. Peters.

  Who in the hell is H. Peters?

  I frown and pull up the roster of employees, not finding an H. Peters in the bunch.

  Well, shit.

  I dial Savannah’s office number, but get her voice mail, so I dial her cell.

  “Hello?” I can hear road noise and raise a brow.

  “You’ve left early.”

  “Lance asked me
to meet him at home,” she replies with a sigh.

  “Why?”

  “No idea. What’s up?”

  “I have a small lead, and I’m going to need some help. Is there a person that you prefer I use internally to do some snooping, or can I call in my own private investigator?”

  “We usually use someone internally, but let’s bring in someone from the outside for this.”

  I nod in agreement. “Will do, thanks.”

  I place a call to Adam, a local investigator that a colleague recommended, and leave him a voice mail, outlining what I need, then hang up and study the transactions again. I’ve looked through them a hundred times, but didn’t see the time stamp similarities until today.

  What else am I missing?

  “You look serious.”

  I gasp and throw the papers on the desk, startled, then cover my heart with my hand and sigh. “You scared me, Hilary.”

  “Sorry.” She grins. “I have to go run some errands, but do you want to meet up for happy hour this afternoon? Say, around four?”

  I frown and shake my head. “No, thanks. I had a long weekend. I really just want to go home and relax.”

  “A long weekend, huh?” She leans on the doorjamb and crosses her arms. “Who is he?”

  I laugh and shake my head at my new friend. “You’re incorrigible. It’s not always about sex, you know.”

  “Of course it’s always about sex.” She laughs and tucks her hair behind her ear. “And you’re having some. I can tell. I want to hear all about it. And you look like you could use a drink.”

  I sigh and start to shake my head again, but she rolls her eyes. “You’re not saying no. Meet me at Huck’s at four.”

  “Fine. Have a lemon drop waiting for me.”

  “Can do.”

  ***

  “So, talk. Who is it?” Hilary asks, as I sit and take a sip of a delicious lemon drop.

  “Not telling.” No way, nohow.

  “You’re not fun. I need details.”

  “I’m not telling you who it is, but I’ll spill some details about the sex itself.”

  “Right on.” She shifts in her seat and signals to the waitress for another drink.

  “How long have you been here?” I ask.