“Happy Sunday to you as well, dear sister,” I replied.
“I’m not in the mood for you to have a mood,” she bit back instantly. “Where are you?”
She’d never know that. Not if I could help it.
“Can I ask why you’re asking?” I queried.
“Because I’m at your house with coffees from Tex and donuts from LaMar’s, both I’m delivering as an apology and you’re not answering your door.”
Coffee’s from Fortnum’s Used Books made by a crazy man named Tex were the best coffees perhaps (I had not researched it extensively) in the world. And I had not encountered a better donut in Denver (and I had researched this extensively) than LaMar’s.
This was quite the apology and Georgia knew it.
I still didn’t care.
“I’m not there,” I told her.
“I kinda got that, what with you not answering the fucking door I’ve been pounding on for the last ten minutes. This settles it. I need a key to your pad.”
She’d asked that before.
I had little privacy already.
No way in hell I was giving my sister a key to my house.
I looked to Nick. “I’m also not going to be there for a while.”
He grinned a very attractive grin and shifted down the bed.
I wanted to pay attention to what he was doing but Georgia’s voice came at me.
When it did, my focus went to her and my eyes went back to my knees.
“We need to talk,” she stated.
“I’m not ready,” I replied.
“Right. Then we still need to talk and when I say that I mean about David. I shut him down and shut him out. He hasn’t been able to get into his office since Wednesday. He’s complaining to Dad, saying work isn’t getting done. Dad’s up in my shit about it. You’ve had days. You find anything I can give to Dad so we can move that along?”
I felt Nick’s hand glide around the top of my ankle.
I kept my gaze to my knees.
“Not yet, considering half the time I’m spending looking into that situation and the other half I’m spending doing his job so things don’t get delayed, pile up or missed. Though, I do feel that I’ll need to spend time in his office. There are things there I’d like to review.”
“So you’re finding something,” she guessed.
“I have so much, it’s impossible to find anything without taking weeks, something he well knows, his responsibilities something he can’t be away from for a weeks-long audit. It wouldn’t be smart, naturally. The work he does has to continue to get done. But further, Dad would never allow it.”
Nick’s hand, which was drifting up the inside of my calf, stopped.
I looked to him.
He was down the bed, on his side, head in his hand, elbow in the bed, other hand under the covers, head tipped back, eyes on me.
Listening.
Intently.
“You’re right,” Georgia informed me. “Dad wants him back in the office on Monday.”
“I need at least another week.”
“I can probably buy you a day. That being this day,” she returned. “So my suggestion, get your ass home, grab this coffee and the donuts I got you and get to David’s office.”
“I’m not working today.”
“Li—”
I looked to my lap and my words hissed through the air like a whip. “I’m not working today.”
“You’re gonna have to get over that shit,” she warned.
“I’m over it but I’m in the middle of something else,” I retorted. “That being the stunt David pulled, a stunt the simple fact he pulled it should buy me at least another week of assessing the situation. You can’t get Dad to accept that and he sends him back to his office, so be it. Not the first time such a decision has been made, the consequences of which might not be promising.”
Georgia was silent because she knew I spoke truth.
Nick’s hand started moving back up the inside of my calf.
By the time it hit my knee, I felt his touch in my pussy.
My eyes went to him.
He was no longer listening intently.
His attention was aimed at my breasts.
I looked down.
My hand with the sheet had slipped. I wasn’t exposed fully but there was a lot to see.
I shifted the sheet up.
Nick’s hand started moving much faster down the inside of my thigh.
“Are we done?” I asked my sister.
“We need to have lunch this week,” she told me.
“Pick a day just as long as it’s later in the week, text me where to be, I’ll be there.”
“Okay, Liv. And—”
Nick cupped me with his hand.
I cut my sister off. “I have something I need to do. Enjoy your Sunday.”
“Li—” I heard before I disconnected, hit the button at the side to turn the ringer off and tossed the phone to the bed.
I was about to lunge at Nick when something moved over his face.
No.
More than one something. It looked like he was at war with himself.
One side won, leaving his expression sharp.
“You know what I do,” he said quietly.
I held my breath and nodded.
“Have a care, Olivia.”
More honesty.
I’d mentioned David’s name. And Dad.
There were things he could read in that but David was the legitimate side of the business. No one would have interest in that.
But still, what Nick said was the first indication he gave that he wasn’t just out for a fuck or whatever else he could get from me.
But that he was looking out for me.
I stared into his eyes.
Then I lunged.
I did not need years of visits with a psychologist to explain to me that I had zero control in my life so that was why I liked control in bed.
The partners I’d chosen, none of them had seemed to mind. All of them had seemed to like it. They had provided varying degrees of pleasure depending on their talents. They appeared to receive the same.
It wouldn’t matter if they didn’t. I never saw them again so their opinion of my performance meant nothing to me.
The battle for control with Nick was entirely different.
There weren’t varying degrees of pleasure.
There were varying degrees of dizzying pleasure.
Everything was a contest from kisses to touches to the ultimate fuck, with each contest having two opponents.
And two winners.
I’d spent the last four evenings banging Nick Sebring, and until last night, getting dressed when it was smart and getting the hell out.
But that morning, in the light of day, both of us naked, Nick talking quietly on the phone to order breakfast that included champagne, seeing his grin, our banter of the night before I knew I shouldn’t engage in but couldn’t help myself, falling asleep under him, something else I knew I shouldn’t allow but I didn’t stop—our fucking went manic.
For my part, I needed that time to turn things back. To reduce him to a tool, a length of warm, hard flesh, a stiff cock, all there simply to get me off.
This was what I always tried to achieve with Nick. Effort that was wasted because I spent every moment between being with him until being with him again thinking about being with him.
I suspected his game was much different. I didn’t know his game but I knew there was one. I was not just a fuck. But I was also not the woman he intended to take to dinner with his brother and his family either. If I was, we wouldn’t be meeting at a hotel. If I was, he’d ask me out to another type of dinner, a getting-to-know-you one.
So that morning, in the light of day, I had to win. I had to reduce him to a length of warm, hard flesh, a stiff cock and nothing else in a way I could keep him in that place until this was over.
If I didn’t, over coffee, champagne and a fruit plate, all would be lost beca
use I would get lost in the desperate desire to swim forever in Nick Sebring’s eyes.
And as we engaged in our intimate war, Nick played safe like he always played safe.
Bigger and stronger than me, he could overpower me easily and make this a scene I would not enjoy.
He never did that unless it was safe for him (which meant safe for me) to win his point.
As for me, I always took advantage of this handicap.
Like I did then after we both tired of the scrimmage. Ready for more, I got him to his back and climbed on top.
I tried to ignore the beauty of his collarbone carved in a wide rise on either side of the apex of his throat. The smooth, sculpted bulges of his pectorals. The rippled swells of muscle over ribs. The flat but indented plain of his stomach and downward pointing angularity of his hip muscles that led to the spread of dark hair that fed to then bedded the root of his perfectly formed cock.
I just guided that beautiful cock to me and watched between us as I took him. Made him fill me. Plunging down and rearing up, frantic and reckless in my need to ignore all that was him lying beneath me and drive myself straight to orgasm like he was any man with any cock I could use to get me off.
And it was getting me off.
I was panting with the burning need to reach the end as well as the effort I was expending to take me there when I saw his ab muscles contract, veins popping out along the hard flesh from black pubic hair to his navel.
God.
Just seeing that…
Almost there.
But he was curling up.
My eyes cut to him and I lifted a hand to his shoulder, forcefully shoving him back down.
And I rode.
One of his hands curled around my hip.
I knocked it away.
And I rode.
A blue flash fired in his eyes and he moved again to press up, lifting several inches off the bed.
I curled my hand around his throat and shoved, taking him back down.
I kept my hand there, held tight, eyes locked to his…
And I rode.
But it had happened. I saw it. I felt it. It was everywhere. It filled the room. It marked his frame. His expression. There was so much of it, I felt it sink into my skin.
I’d taken it too far.
This was proven when, with a feral growl that I could swear originated in his shaft and tore out of his throat at the same time it ripped from my pussy straight through me, his eyes dark and riled, he wrapped an arm tight around my waist. He flipped me to my back. I then found my wrists captured and pressed deep into the bed, his face an inch from mine, his cock pounding brutally between my legs.
And it…
Was…
Astounding.
“Knees high,” he grunted.
Without a thought outside what that would give to me—or what more it’d give to me—I lifted my knees high.
Oh yes.
It gave me more.
“Legs wide,” he bit out.
I acquiesced but not enough.
His thrusts turned savage.
My breaths started to hitch.
“Legs…wide,” he growled.
I spread as wide as I could.
“You submit.”
It was a question and an order.
“Yes,” I whispered, unable to say more, speak louder.
It was coming.
“You submit,” he repeated.
My legs tensed. My neck muscles strained. My eyes closed.
His fingers tightened around my wrists.
“Olivia, do you submit?”
I forced my eyes open half a centimeter.
But my lips moved on their own.
“Yes,” I gasped. “I submit.”
“Fuck,” he groaned, pounding deep, his lips now brushing mine.
It felt good. I kept taking it. I kept loving it.
But as I did that, most of my attention was taken by experiencing the colossal orgasm that had me so in its thrall, my entire body was tight as a bow, straining to experience it in its totality at the same time contain it so its ferocity didn’t send me flying apart.
On the way down, I was able to pull myself together to enjoy the final thrusts that led to the violent shudders of his climax, doing this feeling his growly sigh against the flesh of my neck.
His hands never released my wrists.
I wrapped my legs around his hips and felt his weight. His heat. I smelled his hair. Our sex. I felt his cock embedded in me like it was made to be there.
And I stared at the ceiling knowing I’d lost.
But all could not be lost.
I couldn’t endure it again.
And I wasn’t going to let another man endure it.
I allowed myself that moment of him pinning me to the bed, his body my whole world, my legs wrapped tight around his hips like it was my right to hold him to me.
Then he released a wrist.
I released his hips.
His head came up and his sated eyes caught mine.
“Unh-unh,” he muttered, not happy I let him go.
“I need to clean up,” I declared.
His head tipped slightly to the side. “You never clean up right after.”
“I need to clean up,” I repeated.
He grinned at me.
That was two that day.
Both of them sublime.
I had to get out of there.
“You’re freaked.”
“Sebring, get off.”
He shoved his hand in at my back, still grinning. “Totally liked bein’ pinned to the bed, taking your fucking.”
“Get off,” I demanded.
His grin got bigger.
It was a smile.
His eyes danced with it.
Oh God.
Those eyes got closer.
God!
“Fuckin’ loved it,” he whispered.
His hand shifted down.
I went completely still.
His hand kept going down.
No!
I bucked violently.
“Off,” I demanded.
“Olivia.”
“Get off me!” I snapped.
He didn’t move.
Except his hand.
I felt my lower lip tremble and to stop it, I pressed both lips together as his fingers trailed the scar at my back.
No.
“Off,” I whispered.
He seemed distracted, but at my word, he looked to me.
“Olivia—”
“Get off me.”
“I saw them last night.”
I shut my mouth.
His gaze dropped there then lifted back to my eyes.
“How’d it happen?” he asked like it was a normal question. Like my scar wasn’t an unspeakable shame, declaring to the world what I was, what was in my blood, who I belonged to.
I didn’t speak.
“It looked bad,” he noted.
My mouth was filling with saliva so I forced myself to swallow. He watched my throat work then returned his attention back to my face.
“Does it still hurt?” he asked.
“No,” I lied shortly.
Or semi-lied.
The pain was there.
It just wasn’t physical.
“Then why won’t you let me touch it?” he asked.
“It’s hideous,” I pointed out the obvious.
“Only caught a glimpse of it but it just looked like a scar to me.”
Yes, to him that was all it would be.
“Scars aren’t attractive,” I remarked.
“Anything about anyone is attractive as long as they’re the kind of person who can be attractive however that comes about. Including scars. You got beautiful hair, Olivia. Unbelievable eyes. An amazing body. That scar’s just a part of you. It’s not hideous. It’s like you. It’s fascinating.”
There was beauty in what he said, and that beauty intensified if he actually believed it and wa
sn’t spouting rubbish.
Still, my response was, “That’s easy for you to say, not having such a scar or having the time when you earned it.”
Everything about him changed. Focused. Grew alert.
And his voice was deceptively low in a way I didn’t know him well enough to read when he asked, “Earned it?”
I’d said too much.
“Will you please get off me?” I requested.
“Yeah, I’ll get off you,” he agreed surprisingly easily. Then he shared it wasn’t easy. “If you promise to get up, clean up, not hide your scar while doin’ it, and come back to bed rather than gettin’ dressed and hightailing your ass out of here.”
“Perhaps we should get a few things straight,” I suggested.
His lips twitched.
That was attractive too.
God, he had to get off me so I could get out of there.
“You think?” he teased.
Nick playful.
He was good at it; he’d started that demonstration last night.
No.
Days ago when he forced me to say “hi” to him in that way that was unbelievably titillating at the same time sweet.
Yes, Nick was good at playful.
“You’re a fuck,” I declared.
He seemed unoffended and no less amused.
“I think I got that the times you climbed on, got off, got dressed and took off.”
“Since you’re a fuck and I’m a fuck, there’s no need for us to sleep together. Eat together. Or share unnecessary discourse.”
Now more amused.
“Unnecessary discourse?”
“Talk,” I snapped.
“I know what it means,” he shared. “Though, just to point out, I want you coming back to me so we can eat, get our second wind, and because we don’t have a lot of time before we gotta check out, you can suck me off. Then we can go. Later, when we hook up again, I’ll return the favor. That’s us being just fucks to each other. Now, room service shows and you wanna drink champagne, eat fruit and do it silently until you get on your knees between my legs, have at it.”
That was both titillating and funny.
I didn’t get a chance to experience either to its fullest (not that I’d allow myself to do that).
Nick kept talking.
“You wanna be quiet, that’ll be a nice change. Most bitches talk your ear off, either determined to drill it into you how interesting they think they are or cover how little they got between their ears by talking relentlessly. Honestly, this is part of why I like you being just my fuck. Not that you get that we’re just fucks, which is definitely a bonus. But you’re quiet and I could use the break.”
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