by Skye Jordan
He slammed the door so hard, the walls rattled. The pictures on the wall shook. Giselle jumped but stood her ground as he turned on her, hands at his hips, gaze furious. And, yes, in the suite’s small hallway, with only one light filtering in from the living room, he was menacing.
“Maybe I don’t want to hear it,” he said. “Did you ever think of that?”
“Why wouldn’t you want to hear me tell you that I’m sorry?”
He pulled in a breath as if he were going to yell, but held it instead, his expression shifting from anger to surprise back to anger. He finally said, “Because it doesn’t matter. You can be as sorry as you want, and it won’t change a goddamned thing. I’m sick of rehashing all this pain.”
Pain. That coupled with the look on his face when she’d first seen him on those stairs at the mixer gave her a little glimpse behind his constant wall of snide disinterest. Something inside urged her to push forward, to dig deeper, validate the fact that he was, in fact, the same man who had once loved her so completely. But to what end? He was right. Bringing back the painful memories wouldn’t change anything in their current lives.
“I don’t want to dredge up bad feelings, I just need you to know—”
“Don’t, Ellie.” He took one big step toward her, his eyes hot.
“I know you felt out of place with the people in our lives all those years ago. And I knew they didn’t treat you right even after I asked them to.”
He closed the distance and gripped both her arms hard, a flicker of panic in his eyes. “Stop it.”
She flinched at the pain but lifted her gaze to his. She talked fast to get all the words out before he threw her out the door. “But tonight, our situations were sort of reversed. And being the outsider gave me a tiny taste of what you went through then. I knew it was bad, but feeling it made me realize how bad it must have felt for you. So much worse than I realized.”
“Goddammit, El. Shut. Up.” He pressed her against the wall. Her heartbeat spiked. “It doesn’t matter now.”
“Maybe not. But I just wanted you to know that I always knew they were the problem, not you, and—”
“I know that, El—”
“But I’ve never told you how sorry I was for all the unhappiness it—”
He pinned her arms to her sides and lifted her, hitting her back against the wall again, knocking the words out of her mouth. A little cry of surprise popped out of her throat. “You never fucking listen. I knew it then, and I know it now. That was only one piece of our broken puzzle.”
“I do listen.” The weight of her body dragged at her arms, and she squirmed against the wall until he pushed his body against hers, all hard and hot. She forced herself to finish what she’d come to say. “You may not care anymore, but I’m sorry I couldn’t find a way to make things right for you.”
She was breaking his fucking heart.
Again.
Goddammit. He wasn’t going to let her do this.
“What do you want from me?”
“N-nothing.” The tears brimming in her eyes finally spilled over, and, Christ, the sight tore him straight down the middle. “I just wanted to make sure you knew…”
“Why? So you could ease your conscience? So you could walk away feeling all better? Fuck that, El. Fuck you.”
He fought to lower his voice, but the lust and the need he’d been fighting from the moment he’d seen her in the cave in those goddamned cut-offs was roiling through his veins, mixing with anger born of hurt that had been simmering for years, creating a dangerous combustible on the verge of explosion.
“No,” she said, eyes wide, “that’s not what—”
“Then what?”
When she didn’t answer, Troy’s patience snapped, lighting the fuse on his volatile emotions. He was done with her goddamned games.
He bent his head and covered her mouth with his, pushing her into the wall, and kissed her the way he wanted to fuck her, long and hard. She gasped and stiffened. Troy plunged his tongue into her sweet, sweet mouth. He took and tasted and licked and took some more. She mewled, then moaned. Her fingers fisted, her body softened, and her mouth loosened, opening to him, taking him, and finally, finally, giving back.
The sensation eased all his muscles, and lust swept over him in a hot wave. His mind hazed. His body took over. God, he needed her. Needed her so badly, he ached with it. Needed her to want him as Troy, not as some stranger who could give her a thrill. Needed her to want him for him, not to fulfill some part that would edge her up the ladder toward success. Yet, he didn’t want her to want him at all.
He broke the kiss violently, fisted his hands in her hair, and pulled her head back. “Let me make this crystal-fucking-clear, Ellie. If you don’t leave this room—and I mean right now—I’m going to fuck you as long as you let me fuck you. I’ll call in sick tomorrow. I’ll get fired. I’ll die of starvation before I stop fucking you.”
She slid her tongue over her lower lip. “Why do you keep testing me?”
“Because I want you to get the hell out.”
“Then push me out the door.” She was breathing fast. Her throat rolled as she swallowed. “You weigh a hundred pounds more than me. You’re five times as strong. If you really want me out, push me out.”
She’d called his bluff, and now he was stuck with their bodies molded together, her big beautiful eyes staring at him with heat and need. And he couldn’t move. Physically couldn’t push her out the door.
A soft huff of dry laughter exited her mouth and ruffled her hair. “We’re both still so screwed up,” she murmured. “And I still want you so bad.”
Bittersweet pain ripped through his gut. He clenched his teeth and growled, “Goddamn you.”
He should throw her out, rail at her in the hallway, embarrass the hell out of her, get a restraining order, anything to keep them from self-destruction.
Instead, he took her face in both hands and kissed her, gaining instant relief from the feel of her lips against his, reveling in the euphoria of being wanted by the one woman who knew every dirty little corner of his soul and still wanted him. It was wrong. He didn’t know how, didn’t know why, didn’t know anything but the feel of her legs wrapped tight at his hips, her arms clutching his neck, her mouth begging for more.
He tasted her mouth one way, then tilted her head and slanted the kiss the other. He couldn’t get enough. Would never get enough. Had to take everything he could while he could. Because he’d lied. He was kicking her the hell out as soon as he regained control. She might be able to compartmentalize her life to deal with the loss, but he couldn’t. And he refused to live in that kind of constant pain. It had to end.
She moaned into his mouth. Her hands pulled at the tail of his shirt until it cleared his jeans. Then her hands were on his skin, and she could have had electrical current in her fingers. He unfastened the strap of her dress at the base of her neck. She fought with his belt. Fumbling and frantic, they couldn’t get at each other fast enough. Troy wanted it over and done with. Wanted to put her behind him.
Then her breasts filled his hands, and he forgot all about shoulds or shouldn’ts, goods or bads, rights or wrongs. Her supple mounds melted in his palms, and he squeezed and teased and groaned with pleasure. But it wasn’t enough. He bent his head and dropped his mouth to one breast, sucked and licked, then bit and scraped. There was nothing gentle or sweet about this need. This was a fierce, dark need. The need to take. To claim. To own.
Then release. And do his best to forget.
She had his jeans open by the time he turned his attention to the other breast. And when her hand slid along his length, he winced at the excruciating thrill of it. Of having Giselle’s hand on him.
He pulled his mouth away from her with a raspy “Fuck, yes.” Then lifted her and pinned her against the wall with his body. She scraped the fingers of both hands into his hair, tilted her head and scanned his face with those gorgeous eyes, denim with lust, before kissing him deeply, pleasuring him with h
er tongue, her lips, teasing him with her teeth.
Troy fumbled with his wallet, dragged out a condom, and let the leather fall to the floor. Ripped open the foil, let it drop, and rolled the condom on, then immediately slipped his hand between Giselle’s legs and yanked her panties aside.
She sucked a shocked breath, breaking the kiss. Hadn’t regained her composure when he roughly stroked her, positioned his hand among her wet, warm folds, and thrust as deep as he could.
She cried out and dropped her head back. Her pussy clenched his fingers. God, he loved this. Loved the wild, frenzied lust of sex. Missed the thrill of giving that pleasure to someone who mattered to him.
He parted his fingers and drew them out, slowly. Waited for her head to loll sideways, for her tongue to slide along her lower lip, then thrust again. Deep. Hard. She arched. Cried out. A mixture of euphoria and pain etched her face. Her wetness coated his fingers, making him slide easily. He gave three shallow pumps, tapping that little ridge deep in her body, making Giselle mewl.
This was delirium. He repeated the pattern until Giselle was rising into his hand for more. Then he pulled out completely. Because now, even that wasn’t enough. He needed so much more. Needed to taste her, to feel her pussy clench around his tongue and ride his mouth.
He crouched, pulled her thighs from his hips to his shoulders, gripped her ass in both hands and stood again, balancing her against the wall.
“Oh my God…” Her hands dug into his hair. “Troy.”
Hearing her say his name while his face was between her legs sent a shock of warm triumph through his belly. He pressed his mouth to her pussy and licked. Musk and tangy sweetness. So hot. So erotic.
She tensed and gasped in surprise.
“Spread for me, Ellie. Let me eat that pretty pussy.”
He encouraged the spread of her thighs with the position of his hands, and when he had Giselle trapped between the wall and his mouth, he smiled. He smiled and memorized the beautiful sight of her perfect pink pussy, the tight folds glistening with her excitement, the plump little clit half-hidden beneath her swollen lips.
“Mmm, good girl.”
Her barely there crop of blonde curls was trimmed into a perfect landing strip, leading directly to the center of her pleasure. He circled the juicy little nub lightly with his tongue while he fingered her opening, slid her juices all through her folds and worked one, then two fingers deep inside her. Never enough stimulation to bring release, only enough to make her insane with pleasure.
He pulled the swollen folds back to expose the plump bud and flick, flick, flicked it with his tongue. Giselle’s head fell back on a growl, eyes closed. She pressed one hand to the ceiling and wound one in his hair, lifting her hips toward his mouth.
“Open your eyes, Ellie,” he said, giving her clit one luxuriously slow lick while sliding a finger deep inside her. Pleasure vibrated in her throat, then her head fell forward and her heavy lids parted to midnight-blue eyes. “Now watch me eat you.”
“Too much,” she said between pants. “Need to come.”
Her sex clenched, squeezing out juice Troy lapped up, making her shiver. He was sweating like he was in a sauna. His cock throbbed with every beat of his heart. “Have I told you how demanding you’ve become?”
She whimpered.
“If you want to get off, watch me eat you. As long as you watch, I eat. The minute you stop, I stop. Simple, right? And when we’re done there, I’m going to fill your hot, wet, tight little pussy with the divining rod you’ve created. Now shut the hell up, because I’m fuckin’ hungry.”
He opened wide and covered her pussy. Her face crunched in pleasure-pain, and her head fell to the side. Her hair fell in a pale waterfall, whispering across his face. And those big blue eyes of hers watched every lick, every kiss, every tug, every nip, and every suck, until her teeth were digging into her bottom lip, and her hips rocked toward his mouth, begging for the touch of his tongue. And watching her watch him eat her.
Man, that was crazy hot.
“Troy…” she murmured, her body trembling, her hand fisted so tightly in his hair, his scalp burned. “Please…”
Christ, he’d give her anything, absolutely anything when she begged like that. He groaned, long and deep as he positioned his mouth over her pussy and, with a frenzied combination of licking and sucking and tongue-fucking, pushed her right to the edge. And her eyes stayed on him right up to the end.
“Oh… God…” Her hips bucked, her body bowed. “Troy… Troy…”
When she finally broke, calling his name—his name—Troy closed his eyes and rode out her pleasure, licking and sucking her essence into his own body.
Giselle quivered uncontrollably. Aftershocks trembled through her muscles. Her entire body felt light and relaxed and tingly. Thinking straight was out of the question, but she still tried, and thoughts tumbled sluggishly through her brain, disconnected and random.
He rocked his shoulders, and her thighs fell to his sides, supported by his arms. And with his hands still on her ass, he lowered her along the wall, straight down and onto his cock. She moaned as his wide head pushed inside. Her nails bit into his shoulders, but she ended up just getting fistfuls of shirt.
With one hand at her hip, he used the other to brush her hair off her face, and drilled into her with those liquid chocolate eyes, so intense, so serious. So familiar. With his hand tangled in her hair, he searched her eyes, her face, then her eyes again, as he slowly invaded her body. Spreading her, stretching her, pulling out, pushing back in, going deeper, stealing her air, making her tense. She had no words.
“You are so fucking tight,” he murmured, almost to himself, but he was looking deep into her eyes. “Damn that’s…so good. So good. Mmm.” The hum of pleasure coincided with a shake of his head and the jump of a muscle in his jaw. “So fucking good.”
The sight of his satisfaction was a crazy aphrodisiac. She loved seeing fierce desire twist his face. Loved watching his lids go heavy, watching his eyes roll back. Loved the growling, teeth-grinding, lip-licking, nostril-flaring, sweat-dripping signs of rising lust and need.
And the act of forcing her body to fit his while he searched her eyes was intensely intimate. This was so raw, so animalistic, so blatant, so deliberate, so…erotic. And all the sensations created by his slow penetration—the stretch and push and tug and burn and pressure—had her wriggling for more. She released his shoulders to try for more leverage on his forearms and managed to push off the wall, lift her hips, and take him deeper.
Excitement rippled through Giselle’s pelvis. “Ah, God…”
His eyes fell closed, and a growl rolled from his throat.
She pulled back and thrust again, taking him a little deeper. He joined her rhythm, and within seconds, he was so deep, Giselle’s throat ached with the fullness. When he opened his eyes again, his gaze was fierce and hot and determined, a look she recognized from the club. A look that shot the unique thrill only he produced through her blood. But there was something else there too, something softer, something deeper, something more human, more Troy. Something that pulled hard at Giselle’s heart.
How had she lived so long without him? How in the hell was she going to go back to that way of life when this was over? The thoughts made tears cluster in her eyes again, blurring his handsome face.
He dug his fingers into her hips and drew his length almost completely out on a long low groan, then pulled her in as he thrust home, their meeting so hard and so fast, Giselle cried out, her eyes closed, and the tears spilled down her cheeks. If Troy noticed, he didn’t care. He immediately repeated the motion in a way that told Giselle this was the ride to the finish line. And she was on board, locked in, because it was just that damn good.
Each and every thrust was the same complete, powerful stroke. Steady, steady, steady perfection. The kind of perfection that took her completely out of place and time. The kind she never wanted to end.
Sweat gathered along her neck, her chest, between
her breasts, beneath his hands on her thighs. His face glistened. Dark areas stained his shirt. The muscles in his arms and legs quivered. But he never paused, never slowed. Just drove her higher and higher, then quickened his pace when she showed signs of climax.
And with her body still thrumming from the first orgasm, she rose quick and broke hard, gripping fistfuls of his shirt to ride out the spasms.
Troy paused only long enough to lean in and kiss her deeply, his mouth loose and warm, whispering, “Ready for another?” before pulling back and gripping her hips again.
“No, no…” She dropped her head against the wall, still trying to catch her breath. She was exhausted from the day, from the stress, from two full-body orgasms in a row. “No more.”
“Thank God,” he rasped, wiping his forehead on the shoulder of his shirt before pressing it to hers. “I forget I can’t promise you the moon.”
He cupped her face in one hand and kissed her deeply, slowly, while he rocked his hips. His cock slid easily inside her. He growled a groan and picked up that same sweet rhythm, quickly rising to his own orgasm, one that raged through his body, twisting his muscles and pulling guttural sounds from his throat.
He slumped against her, pressing her to the wall for long, sated moments while he caught his breath. But he eased out of her too soon, lowered her feet to the floor, and replaced the clip of her dress at the base of her neck. Then he stepped back and hiked up his own jeans a little.
Still dizzy, she pressed a hand to her temple and lifted a smile to him with a quip about him stealing her brain’s blood supply on her lips, but the look on his face froze the words on her tongue. He wore the same cool, closed-off expression he had that morning in the cave. As if the last twelve hours had never happened.
“Troy?” she said, suddenly off-balance again. “What’s…?”
“Now, I am kicking you out.” His voice was casual, but cool enough to prickle a chill over her skin. He ran both hands through his hair, pushing it off his face and met her gaze with a deliberate, “And don’t expect a repeat performance. This won’t happen again. It’s over, El. Time to put the past behind us.”