Eight Ways to Ecstasy

by Jeanette Grey

  Her mouth half-open, she stared up at him, gaze trailing from his face to his aching cock and back.

  She uncurled her hand from around him.

  And then, as he watched, she turned around. He nearly swallowed his tongue as her hair slipped from between his slack fingers. He tried to look at anything except her ass, round and firm and lush. Dropping herself down onto all fours, she flicked her gaze over her shoulder at him.

  “How about like this?”

  It had been Kate’s least favorite position, back with Aaron. She’d never come with him in any case, but at least in missionary there’d been a little pressure against her clit, a little relief.

  Worse, it was more or less how things had gone that one awful night. She’d consented all right, but she’d been so drunk and lonely she hadn’t fully realized what was happening until he’d dragged her hips up and shoved inside.

  She’d always wished she’d had a chance to reclaim it while she’d been with Rylan. If anyone could’ve ever made her enjoy herself like that, it would’ve been him. Now they had this second chance, and who knew how many times they’d end up falling into bed with each other—if they’d even make it the seven nights he’d convinced her to give him. This wasn’t going to be another thing she wished she’d gotten around to trying.

  Best of all, letting him have her from behind—it made it so she wouldn’t have to see his face.

  They’d made love a whopping total of twice in Paris. That’s how long it’d taken her to get over her fears and learn to trust him with her body. It was the only thing she didn’t regret trusting him with, in retrospect. He’d made it so, so good for her—almost too good. The first time, she’d only just realized she’d been enough of an idiot to fall in love with him. The intimacy of the act had rocked her to her bones, taking her feelings and magnifying them a hundredfold. She’d stared into his eyes as he’d pressed inside, and her heart had ached with how beautiful he was, how safe he made her feel.

  Already, he was lulling her down another path to heartbreak, but she wasn’t going along so easily this time. She could protect herself and her sanity. She could find a way to keep him from looking too deep.

  Anyway. It wasn’t as if the man was looking at her face right now.

  She cleared her throat and worried the fabric of the sheets between her fingertips. His gaze darted from her bottom to her eyes, and he shook his head until his expression looked a little less glazed. But then his forehead scrunched up.

  “Just so we’re clear here.” He set a hand on her hip and stroked his thumb across her skin. “You’re not suggesting I fuck you in the ass right now.”

  Her head jerked up. He thought— She didn’t— “Wait. What?”

  Letting go, he raised his hands in front of himself. “Just checking.” He smirked, the lines across his forehead going roguish instead of confused. “You did seem to like it an awful lot.”

  Her cheeks burned, and she dropped her face into the mattress. Of course. He did…that to her, and then she gets down on all fours in front of him. What else did she expect him to think? She turned her head to the side with a groan. “Sorry.”

  “No need to apologize.” Warm lips pressed to her spine, and then lower, tracing the curve of her rear. His voice deepened as he kissed a line toward her hip. “I love seeing you like this.”

  “‘Like this’ as in accidentally implying I wanted anal?”

  “Oh, you do want it. I promise.” He palmed her ass, and God, there was his thumb again, pressing right against the center. It felt as weird and as illicit as it had before—maybe more so, without the added stimulation of his mouth on her. “Someday, I’ll have you begging for it.” Rubbing more firmly, he dragged his lips up her side, kissing each and every rib. By the time the tip of his thumb teased inside, he was speaking right beside her ear. It sent a tremor down her spine as that same teasing fullness blanked her mind. “I can imagine it. Get you all naked and rub you down maybe. Eat you out for a while but keep you right on the edge until you make that little noise you do.” A breathy sigh passed through her lips as he scraped his teeth across her lobe. He chuckled, dark and sexy. “That’s the one. The one that means you’re too turned on to really think. Then I’ll open you up.” He pushed a little deeper, and she closed her eyes against the hint of a burn. “Get you all wet and easy inside. Oh, Kate.” He swallowed, the sound loud. “If you think you like a hint of thumb, you’re going to love it when I fuck you here.”

  A warm, molten clench fired off inside her.

  Jesus, how was this possible? Her body was showing these token signs of protest, her sex feeling tender and sore, but that throb was there, made deeper with every word he spoke. Every glancing brush of his chest against her spine, the scratch of his pants—oh, hell, he still hadn’t finished taking his pants off—against her thigh. She shivered, her clit pulsing as he played with her rim, making one last circle around it before withdrawing, leaving her suddenly bereft. Empty.

  And then, of all things, he had the audacity to kiss her cheek.

  “But not tonight,” he said. “Tonight…” He nudged his knee between her thighs, spreading them wider. Her nipples grazed the mattress as she sank. He made a show of switching hands before sinking two broad fingers deep into her sex, giving her a whole different kind of fullness. “Tonight, I want to fuck you here.” He leaned in closer until the searing line of his cock pressed to her skin.

  He paused for a second, and she caught herself panting for breath.

  “I’ll take you fast. And hard. And when I come inside you?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You’re going to come, too. One more time for me, beautiful.”

  With the withdrawal of his fingers this time, she sagged, left near boneless without his touch. From behind her came the whispers of fabric, and then the sound of foil ripping. For half a second she almost considered stopping him. She’d gone back on the pill as soon as she’d gotten back to town, for all the good that had done her in her dry spell. She could tell him…

  But no. Letting him take her bare—that was a hell of a leap from where they were now.

  It was the work of a moment for him to roll the condom on, and then he was over her, on top of her. The heat of his chest pressed to her spine, his hard cock nudging at her entrance, and she was ready. Instinctively, she braced herself.

  But before he took that first, long thrust, he paused, wavering. His brow pressed to her temple, and a tremor rocked the cage of his arms around her.

  “I missed you so much,” he whispered.

  And with that, he pushed inside.

  Reeling, she bit down on her lip. She’d forgotten how big he was, and the part of her that still expected pain had her fingers digging sharp into her palm. But the slide was easy, her body open and slick.

  He hit something as he filled her. Something deeper than the back of her sex and harder than his thumb sneaking back around to play with her rear.

  Something that remembered this, and remembered what it had meant.

  That summer in Paris, they’d been so close. She’d thought they had been, and she’d loved him so much. Had given him her body and her heart, and what had he given her? Orgasms, sure. But not his story. Not himself. Yet here he was, asking for more.

  His hips eased back, the retreating stroke as massive in its impact as the one with which he’d entered her. He huffed out a breath that sounded pained before thrusting home again.

  “Fuck, Kate, you feel even better than I thought you would.”

  And he did, too, and that was the problem.

  He took a few more slow, steady movements in and out, each one reaching the part of her body that welcomed him home and made her want to spread her legs for him, be easy for him. She shoved her fingers tighter into fists as her sex went warmer and slicker.

  With his hips flush to hers, he stopped. “You ready?”

  God, their first time around, she’d made the sex so difficult, but now it felt like the simplest part. W
ay simpler than the mess he’d made of her heart.

  She nodded and clenched her eyes shut.

  “Kate?”

  “Do it.” She pressed back into him, forcing him that tiny bit deeper, and how did it feel even better, when inside she was falling apart? “Fuck me.”

  He groaned, but instead of doing it, instead of doing as he’d promised and taking her hard, he wrapped his arms around her, hauling her up. She resisted. She was safe where she was. But he sat back on his haunches all the same, pulling her along with him until there was nowhere left to hide. Astride his lap, her weight pressing her down onto him even more, she was on display.

  And he held her. Fuck, he held her.

  “I need to feel you’re with me in this, Kate.”

  She laughed, and it sounded high and desperate to her own ears. “Where else would I be?”

  “I have no idea.” He shook his head, stubble scratching her cheek as he tucked his chin against her shoulder. “You just felt really far away.”

  As far away as he had driven her.

  She bit her lip. “I’m right here.” And it hurt.

  “Then stay there. Please.”

  He gripped her tighter and flexed his hips, and yes. This they could do.

  “Stay with me,” he pled again, picking up his pace.

  But her throat wouldn’t work. They’d said so much tonight already. She’d given him what he wanted. Couldn’t she keep a piece of herself for her own?

  As if sensing that he’d pushed far enough, he didn’t ask her anything else as they settled into the rise and fall of bodies on bodies, flesh inside of flesh. It wasn’t the hard, rough fuck he’d promised her, but the way he moved inside her—the way he moved her over him, clutching her tight and helping her ride him—was thick with intent. The pleasure she scarcely knew if she was ready for gathered low in her belly, close and yet unsatisfied.

  He broke their silence with a rasp. “Touch yourself for me.”

  She’d fought him on this once, but it felt too easy this time to lower her hand and slip it through the slick-hot space between her legs. Her fingertips grazed his length, full and hard as it buried itself inside her, and he moaned. Then she found her clit, and the gathering heat shot sparks.

  “That’s right.” He bit her throat. “Just like that. Feel it. Let yourself have this.”

  She would. Fully prepared to lose it this time, when there was nothing left to do but let it go.

  As climax barreled down on her, she tossed her head back. He caught it on the wide, strong expanse of his shoulder. He spoke her name and stroked her nipple once.

  “Kate—” He gulped, swallowing air. “I’m going to—”

  She fell over the edge with him, exactly how he’d said she would, blackness eclipsing her vision, muscles spasming as a pleasure too vast, too deep washed over her. Within the clenching furl of her, he throbbed, pulsing.

  And then he was grabbing her by the jaw, pulling her into a kiss it felt like she’d been waiting years for. As they shuddered through their peaks, he held her face in his hand, his gaze locked with hers.

  It was too much. Too close.

  She needed to protect herself, needed to hide.

  Yanking her head away, she closed her eyes.

  Chapter THREE

  For a minute, Rylan fought simply to breathe. Fuck, he had needed that. But even as his blood sang with satisfaction, worry tickled at the back of his mind, keeping him from sinking into any kind of afterglow.

  The sex had been amazing, but it had been…different. She’d wanted to face away from him, and sure, it’d been hot as hell. But it hadn’t been her. The first time they’d made love, it had been Kate and her misgivings that had prompted them to wait. He’d been patient for days in Paris, and in the end, he’d toppled right into a connection he had yet to claw his way out of—one he didn’t want to, even. Being with her had been so much better than being with anyone else had ever been before. It made him want to throw caution to the wind, to ignore every lesson his family had ever taught him about how love was just an invitation to be discarded or used.

  But maybe she wanted out.

  Stroking his thumb across her cheek, he tried to will her eyes open, but it wasn’t any use. She’d closed them right as their intensity had risen past the breaking point, had turned her face away. She was hiding from him, dammit all. Fire burned in his gut, a low twitch of annoyance at her for keeping him out.

  And a red-hot brand of anger at himself. He had dug this hole, and he’d known he’d have to work his way out of it. She’d agreed to let him try. But all of a sudden, the gently sweeping road to forgiveness he’d imagined himself on took a steep upward climb. He swallowed hard and dropped his head, relaxing his hold as his brow came to rest against her temple.

  How the hell was he going to do this?

  Before he could begin to figure it out, she reached up to swipe at her eyes. His stomach sank as he pulled away enough to really see her. Dampness clung to her lashes.

  “Baby…”

  She shook her head. “It’s fine.” Patting his arm, she wriggled her way out of his embrace. He clenched his hands into fists to keep from drawing her back. “Just intense, you know?”

  Of course he knew.

  His body slipped from hers as she climbed off his lap, leaving him cold. With her back still turned, she retreated to the edge of the bed to grab a box of tissues. She felt miles and miles away.

  Without looking at him, she handed him the box. He pulled a couple of tissues loose and dealt with the condom. The silence tore at him.

  It had never been this awkward before.

  Well, fuck it. He wasn’t going to let it be awkward now.

  She’d already grabbed her shirt off the floor, but before she could tug it on, he clambered onto his hands and knees to come up behind her. Dropping the bundle of tissues in the waste bin, he wrapped both arms around her, prying the fabric from her hands and tossing it across the room.

  “Hey—”

  “You don’t need that.” He kissed the spot behind her ear.

  She fixed him with a look, brow arched. “It’s actually kind of chilly in here.”

  “That’s what I’m for.” Him and a pile of blankets. He tried to pull her down to lie beside him, but she shook her head.

  “I’ll fall asleep.”

  His heart panged. That sounded ideal, honestly. Chilly or no, his bed had been cold for months without her there. “And what would be so bad about that?”

  She looked away. “Where are you staying, anyway?”

  It took him a second to catch up, but when he did, he sucked in a breath and clenched his jaw. His suitcase still stood in the corner where he’d left it, looking stupidly hopeful. Homeless.

  “I hadn’t figured that out yet, actually.” He forced himself to relax his mouth and stroked his palms up and down her arms. Made his voice soft to conceal the disappointment gnawing at him.

  It wasn’t that he’d expected her to invite him to stay, precisely. But somehow, he hadn’t expected her not to, either.

  “Oh,” she said.

  “I was kind of busy. Had a girl I was in a rush to get to after all.”

  He stroked her hair back from her face. It gave him a better view, but unlike before, he couldn’t seem to see in.

  And then her stomach gave this long, rolling growl.

  It stopped him short. “Um.”

  “Quiet.” She huffed out a little half laugh and rubbed the heel of her hand into her eye before pointing in the vague direction of the kitchen. “I barely got to eat my terrible soup.”

  Ah, yes. She’d insisted that they eat ramen for supper—something that came in a packet and tasted like salt and despair. And when he’d been tempted to hide how terrible he thought it was, she’d exploded, as if instant noodles were the root of their problems.

  Really, taking that cup from her hands had been him doing her a favor. “You’re welcome?”

  “Hardly. It’s not like I have m
uch of anything else here to eat.”

  Maybe he should offer to buy her some groceries. It struck him, though—did she cook? They’d gotten this far and there were so many things about her life he didn’t know. But he wanted to.

  Paris had been a whirlwind of sightseeing, but both out there in the city and alone in their hotel room, they’d gotten through only the highlights.

  He wanted the unabridged version now. The off-the-beaten-track insider’s guide. The view of a city—the view of this girl you only got after years of exploration. He wanted to discover everything there was to know about her, piece by piece. He just needed her to give him the chance to.

  For now, he hugged her tighter and pressed his lips to her cheek. “Order something then.” He hesitated before adding, “My treat.”

  She rolled her eyes, but at least she didn’t freak out. “You don’t have to do that, you know.”

  “Of course I don’t.” Didn’t she understand this? “I want to.”

  He wasn’t going to hide who he was this time. He’d already promised her that. If money wasn’t an issue for him, why couldn’t he choose to share it with her?

  “Come on,” he said. “Something simple. Pizza?” Now there was an idea. He hooked his chin over her shoulder and outright pouted. “I haven’t had a decent New York slice in a year.”

  “Now that really is a crime.” Her tone was teasing, but there was an edge to it, too.

  So he pulled out his secret weapon. Pressing a kiss beneath her ear, he asked quietly, too fervently, “Please?”

  The warm wash of his breath across her skin made Kate shiver.

  His offer was so tempting, really. She was starving, and the idea of letting him take care of her for a little while made a tired, jagged piece of her heart sigh with relief.

  But ordering a pizza meant waiting for delivery, which meant more time alone with him—probably naked if his reaction to her last attempt at getting dressed was any sign. The vulnerability of it made her skin itch. She couldn’t defend herself like that, and she desperately needed to this time around.