Forbidden Gold (Providence Gold Book 5)

by Mary B. Moore

  “Have you ever looked in the mirror when you’re frowning this deeply?”

  Of course, he had to lift his brows at this question, totally losing the eyebrow crack he had going on. “I can’t say I have. Why?”

  “You almost had an ass crack on your forehead, and I was going to get you to see if you could frown a bit harder to complete it.”

  “Considering no one’s ever made me frown as hard as you do, I doubt I’d be able to.”

  Did one take that as a compliment or an insult?

  “Really? No one?”

  Wrapping his arms around me and pulling me into him as he stuck his nose in the top of my hair, he mumbled, “Nope. And before your brain starts fucking with that tidbit, I’ll clarify why I frown. You confuse me, you make me think about things I’ve never thought about before, you make me want things I’ve never wanted, you frustrate me because I don’t know enough about you, and I don’t know what to do about any of that, so I frown.”

  I kind of wish he hadn’t clarified it because none of those reasons sounded positive.

  “That all sounds… negative. If you didn’t want my brain to eff with me, maybe you should’ve left it alone?”

  The puff of hair that moved the strands where his mouth was said he’d either laughed or sighed.

  It was the tone of his voice that confirmed it was the former. “Ari, it might sound that way, but it isn’t. It’s so far from it. All of those reasons were what made me accept to get help finally and to stick it out. They also make me want to fix what’s broken, so I can be someone who deserves you—”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” I interrupted, trying to pull away from him and failing when he tightened the muscles in his arms. “You don’t go through life fixing yourself because you think someone deserves that version of who you are. You do it for yourself.”

  “Wasn’t that what you did with your gaming, though?” he asked, his smile only just this side of not being smug—the big, fat butt plug.

  Deciding now would be an excellent time for him to have his shower—with a bottle of shampoo shoved in his mouth—I smiled brightly up at him. Not expecting it, his expression changed from almost smug to dazed and then suspicious.

  “When I’m stressed, I find a shower or bath helps me. It washes away all the stuff that’s making me feel bajiggidy and replaces it with a fresh feeling. I figured if you experienced the showerheads in my shower, they’d do that for you and get rid of some of the tension in your muscles,” I pointed at the range of showerheads that were currently waiting for someone to enjoy their hard work. “Because I run a lot, I went for one that was recommended for professional athletes—”

  “You bought a shower for professional athletes?” he asked, his lips twitching.

  “Well, it was a smidge presumptuous, but I run almost every day.” There’d also been an Olympian that I thought was one of the hottest men on earth in the commercial, but okay. Sex sells, that’s all I’m saying.

  “Bajiggidy?” he asked next, confusing me.

  “Huh?”

  “You used the word bajiggidy. What does it mean?”

  “Well, stressed or glucky.”

  Moving his hands up to where the first fastened button on his shirt was, he undid it and then moved onto the next one, chuckling at this new word. “Glucky? Now you’re just making words up.”

  Unable to lift my eyes from where he was still undoing buttons—and I’m not going to lie, I was also wondering why he hadn’t started with the buttons on his cuffs—I mumbled, “Is that a crime? People make up words and expressions all the time. The meaning of words changes all the time, too.”

  I was relieved when he moved onto his cuffs. Unfortunately, I couldn’t appreciate the move with my eyes because they refused to separate themselves from the flesh and muscles now showing through his undone shirt.

  “Name three.”

  Three what? Dwarfs? Reindeer? Rivers? Lakes? Continents? Types of flour?

  “Three words whose meanings have changed.”

  I had zero doubt in my mind that I’d blame his abdomen for what came out of my mouth next. “Fat, come and moist.”

  He’d just begun to shrug his shirt off when I said them but froze when the words registered before throwing his head back and laughing so loudly I snapped out of my contemplative state. Well, to be precise—the contemplative state of his chest, because my eyes moved up to look at his face, wanting to see him look carefree, and got stuck on how beautiful he looked when he was.

  When he lowered his head back down, his eyes were dancing, and—dare I say it—moist. “The first one I’ll give you, but the second two…” he started laughing again, the noise bouncing off the tiled walls. “Okay, baby, you win.”

  I’d thought it would be the shower that’d be able to help him after his shitty day, but knowing it was my stupidity that’d done it was heady shit, I tell you.

  Still, the embarrassment was there. “Do you want me to leave you so you can shower?”

  Shrugging off the shirt, he leaned down to peck me on the nose. “I’d prefer for you to join me in it, or at the very least sit on the counter and keep making me laugh. But, if you’d rather go and wait for me in your room, then I can deal with that.”

  Maybe two hours ago I’d have run for the room. Maybe twenty minutes ago I’d have jumped onto the counter. Now, I wanted to get into the shower with him.

  So, turning my back to him, I undid the sash and dropped the robe, then moved quickly under the spray, only just remembering to angle slightly as I passed the one jet that was poorly positioned.

  When I’d designed the room and had seen the commercial for the shower online, I hadn’t trusted my family not to fuck it up, so I’d hired a plumber to come and install it. Admittedly, I’d found his card near the door at the grocery store, but plenty of legit companies did that. The key indicator that I probably shouldn’t have answered was when he turned up in a sparkling back van with ‘The Big Pipe Master’ written on it. I also should’ve called my brothers when he offered to show me how good with my pipe he’d be and then followed it with the offer to show me how his pipe would fit. It’d been never ending, and even now, I shuddered when someone said the word pipe. Anyway, after two hours of hearing the bullshit, I told him I’d show him how well his pipe fitted up his ass, and he’d hurried through the job after I’d made a big deal out of calling Tate to see how he was.

  My penance was a showerhead with the power of a jumbo jet engine placed at nipple height. He’d also gotten some, though, because three weeks after it, I’d seen on the local news that he’d been arrested for harassment and sexual assault, so he was probably living the feeling of fitting pipes into areas of his body daily now. Nah, I couldn’t wish that on someone, but I could hope he felt as uncomfortable and dirty as he’d made us feel.

  Two hands gently landing on my shoulders and pulling me back into a hard chest were a much better focus than what I’d been thinking about, so I took advantage of the position and leaned back even more into Parker.

  “Is that head there meant to be that low?”

  Considering there was a head currently poking me in my ass cheek, it took a moment for me to understand what he was talking about—the exact same thing I’d just been thinking about.

  “Uh, not really.” That was the right answer for one, the wrong for the other. If the other head would just move a couple of inches down and to the left…

  “Huh. Is it meant to feel like that, too?”

  One hand left my shoulder to fiddle with it, but it was useless. No matter what you did, what buttons you pushed on the display, the shitting thing was like a fire hose. Well, at least what I assumed a fire hose would feel like. I wasn’t stupid enough to stand in front of one that was spraying out water. But now that I thought about it, I’ll bet one of my brothers or cousins had done it. Maybe I could ask them?

  Clearing my throat, I pointed behind us at the area where a control panel was. “It doesn’t matter what settings you press
, it just stays like that. I think the plumber did something when he was installing it,” I started, stopping when I realized I might be heading into territory where I’d have to explain why the man would do something like that. “Like, maybe using a wider pipe, so more water comes through it,”—hell if I knew if that was something that’d happen—“so the force is disproportionate to what comes through the others.”

  I was going to hell for lying and also getting some sort of literary award for the story I’d come up with.

  Leaning over, I nabbed the bottle of body wash and sponge and squeezed out way more than was necessary on top of it, before turning around and beginning the task of washing away his bajiggidy feeling, stopping any further conversation about the shower. The guy was already in jail sharing his showers with other men, what did it matter now?

  I was conscious of his eyes on me as I did it, but if I looked up, there was a real risk I’d throw the sponge at him and run away. With my luck, I’d probably slip on the floor and go ass over tit down the stairs, and then get carried out butt naked in front of everyone.

  I also didn’t want to look away from the beauty I was washing. Smooth tanned skin over muscles that weren’t too much or too small, with tattoos I wanted to trace with my tongue, was right in front of me, and I’d be an idiot not to enjoy it and look my fill.

  Moving my arm slightly, the sponge skimmed across a nipple, and I froze slightly when it occurred to me that men’s nipples might be as sensitive as women’s were. The answer was immediate as the hard penis—something else I wasn’t staring at for the same reason as his eyes—that was resting against my abdomen bounced, tapping me a couple of times before stopping.

  I was definitely going to hell. I’d avoided things, omitted the truth from explanations, and now I was taking a very perverse enjoyment out of Parker when the man was suffering. If I were a betting woman, I’d hazard a bet that right now that Lucifer was going through my list of favorites at Walmart and buying one of each from it for my impending arrival. Maybe he’d even ordered me a new bed with a Tempurpedic mattress? Perhaps he’d even bought me some things from my Amazon wish list so I’d feel more at home? Maybe he’d checked my watched list on Netflix and had even watched them himself so we’d have something to talk about?

  And if anyone could see inside my mind, they’d know that I was the queen of procrastination.

  Although, if I hadn’t been procrastinating and staring at his throat, I’d have missed how fiercely he swallowed before he spoke. “Ari,” he growled, his voice sounding like he’d gargled glass.

  The tone of his voice was strained, but I could hear the wonder and the need through it clearly. It made me finally raise my head so I could look him in the eyes, seeing the emotions reflected in his expression.

  I don’t know which one of us moved first, but in the next instance, my mouth was on his, and my arms were around his neck as he kissed me deeply. With each lick of his tongue into my mouth, each soft stroke of it on my own, I was pressing deeper into him, but I couldn’t stop myself doing it. I wanted to be even closer to him, even if it was impossible.

  Then, his hands were skimming down either side of my body until they reached my butt cheeks, gripping me firmly and lifting me like I weighed five pounds. Seeing as how I most definitely weighed a whole shitting lot more than that, this was impressive and turned me on even more. What woman wouldn’t want a man who could pick her up without groaning or breaking a sweat? Still, I didn’t want to test how long he could hold me like that for, so I wrapped my legs around his waist and hooked them at the ankles so that I was taking some of my weight too.

  “I’m not making love to you tonight,” he mumbled against my lips, only pulling away long enough to get those six words out before kissing me again.

  This was disappointing.

  Pulling my face away from his, I groaned when he kissed from my jaw down the side of my neck. Was there nothing that this man couldn’t do? A neck was a neck, why did he make it feel so good?

  “Why not?”

  “Because I want it to be perfect,” he explained, sucking softly on the skin just under my ear. “I want to do it when we both have clear minds, where we’ve had a day together to enjoy each other. And where we both know that we’re completely focused on each other.”

  Well, if I was honest, my mind was pretty much blank when he had his mouth on me, and he had my full attention… But then I remembered the day he’d just had, and that it would be almost impossible for him to switch his mind off to it all.

  Which made me determined to make that happen.

  When he had his mouth on me, my mind went blank, right? So, what if I could do the same thing for him?

  Unhooking my legs, I dropped them from around his waist and wiggled to signal he could let me down. When he’d lowered me enough for my toes to touch the ground, I pressed a kiss to his chin and smiled up at him.

  “Ari—”

  Shaking my head, I covered his mouth with my hand. “We’re here to destress, and that’s what we’re going to do.”

  And then I dropped to my knees, taking him by surprise and wrapped my hand around his long thick length. I was just leaning in to lick across the top of it when I saw the piercing at the base of it. Okay, color me naïve, but was that actually a thing? I knew guys could get it pierced in a line down it or through the tip, but the base? Looking up, I saw he’d rested both of his forearms against the tiled wall behind me and was watching me through hooded eyes.

  No doubt seeing the question in mine, he smiled lazily. “It’s called a pubic piercing.”

  Not letting go of his cock, I ran my hand down it until my palm touched the small barbell at the base of it. “I thought it was meant to go through the tip?” I asked as I ran my hand back down to the area in question. “Why did you have it down there?”

  “Because it’ll feel good for you,” he rasped. “When I’m inside you,” he explained, his hips moving slightly as my hand continued to move up and down his length slowly, “and you have all of me, it’ll rub either side of your clit.”

  Clenching my thighs together at the thought of how great that’d feel, I swallowed audibly. “Didn’t that hurt?”

  “Not as much as getting it through the head, but you’re worth it.”

  That made me stop my hand’s movements. “You had it done for me?”

  His response was a nod of his head. “Of course.”

  Looking back down at the metal, I blinked a couple of times. It wasn’t the typical romantic gesture of roses and chocolates, but it wasn’t like he’d sent me dick pics to try and woo me. In fact, I was kind of happy in a smug way about it—and a whole hell of a lot turned on at the thought of what it would feel like.

  So, I decided to do to him what he’d just done to me and blow his mind—except in a different way.

  Opening my mouth, I engulfed the head of his cock, and sucked at alternating speeds, fluttering the tip of my tongue along his frenulum.

  I gave it my all, pulling all of the hints and tips from the magazines I’d read over the years to the front of my mind, and succeeded in doing such a good job that I left him gasping and with shaking legs to finish his shower fifteen minutes later.

  Eleven

  Parker

  I hadn’t expected this to happen tonight. In fact, all I’d wanted to do was spend some time with her and to clear my mind of what’d happened at work. She’d managed to achieve that, but when I’d told her to give me five minutes to get the ability to move back so I could do the same to her, the sneaky little bitch had left the bathroom.

  If she thought she was getting away, she had another thing coming.

  Walking out of the bathroom, I grinned at the sight she made as she balanced with her knees and elbows in the bed, ass in the air, reading something on her phone.

  Dropping the damp towel in her laundry basket as I passed it, an idea hit me. I mean, she was in the perfect position for what I wanted to do to her.

  So, crawling care
fully up the bed, I turned onto my back and used my feet to move me until my head was right under her ass, the phone not losing her focus once. All it took was one slight adjustment to how I was lying, and then I was able to reach up and pull the thong she was wearing under the over washed and threadbare sweater to the side, baring her to me and making her jump.

  “Um…”

  Licking my lips at the view, I rasped, “If you’re not ready for this, right now would be the best time to say so.”

  “I’m ready.” The words were backed up by her widening her legs and giving me more room to work.

  With that reassurance, I wrapped both hands around her hips, and pulled her down onto my mouth, then ran my tongue through her center with one firm swipe.

  The taste of her was immense. “Christ, Ari.”

  Tilting my head back a bit more, I was able to latch onto her clit and then flutter my tongue over the tip of it, groaning when she lowered farther onto my face. Through the blood rushing to both of my heads—although the southern state of Parker was still in recovery—I was dimly aware of her phone beeping, but not much could’ve pulled me away from what I was doing at that moment.

  “Shit,” she gasped, grinding down onto me as I sucked harder. “It doesn’t get much more awkward than doing this when my grandpa’s trying to Facetime me.”

  Chuckling, I moved down to her entrance, thrusting the tip of my tongue inside her and marveling how tight she was around it. Just imagining what that would feel like around my cock… Something she wasn’t going to get tonight, but she could have my fingers.

  Reaching up with my right hand, I replaced my tongue with the middle digit of my left hand, slowly pushing it inside her to ramp up her anticipation at what I was going to do. I wasn’t an immediate action guy, I wanted to take my time with her, learn all of her, memorize it all, and then I’d let her come.

  With slow movements, I pushed and retreated, all the while circling the edge of her clit with the tip of my tongue, making sure not to touch it directly. With my free hand still wrapped around her hip, I felt her muscles tensing under my palm, readying to push back onto the finger that was halfway inside her, and pulled it out until she had just the tip. When her muscles relaxed, I moved it back in to where it’d been originally, not going any deeper. We did this several times until she pushed a hand between herself and the mattress and grabbed a handful of my hair, giving it a warning tug.