by JJ Knight
He hovers, his breath hot against those tender places. My need pulses there, like a heartbeat, like life itself.
When his tongue slips between my folds, I lurch up to him. I want it hard, grinding, endless. Dell senses my need and spreads me wide with his fingers, delving so deeply I cry out.
“Shhh,” he reminds me. Yes. Grace. I cover my mouth with my arm.
Dell returns to his touching, his licking, sucking against me. No one has ever done this to me, never, and I’m overcome. And coming. It’s nothing like what I’ve experienced by myself. I can’t predict what he’ll do, what will happen next.
The urgency builds on itself, like a top that’s being wound up. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever known. I sink my teeth into my arm, my other hand grasping the bedcovers. It’s so intense, so much, so hard to manage, demanding and insistent.
It peaks. It holds there. I’m on the brink, hovering, waiting to fall.
Then it all just lets go.
I feel like a star has exploded. A bright flash, an internal combustion, then the showering trickle of light.
I drop my arm to the bed. Dell is still there, his fingers massaging me, his tongue gentle now.
I’m lost. I’m wrung out. After a moment, he moves upward, his hand on my cheek. “Doing all right?” he asks.
I nod.
He lies beside me, an arm thrown over his forehead.
I’m not sure what that means. Is that all he wanted?
“Dell?” I lean up on one elbow to look down at him.
“You didn’t wake Grace,” he says. “Impressive.”
I lay my head on his shoulder. Maybe he doesn’t want me after all. Maybe after seeing me, he figured he’d get me off and be done.
A tear slips out of my eye and slides across his chest.
He lifts his head. “You okay?”
I don’t know what to say. That he just completely turned me inside out and now I can’t handle that this is it?
So I don’t say anything at all.
Chapter 39: Dell
Damn. I don’t know what to do here.
She’s crying on my chest and I’m not sure why. She seemed to enjoy it. Watching her orgasm was like a high for me. She really turned herself over to my care. Totally let go. That doesn’t happen often with women who are more concerned about what they will get for an exchange than just falling into it.
But I saw the deal when I was down there. Or felt it, rather.
She’s a virgin. Totally intact. So intact she couldn’t have shoved so much as a finger vibrator up there.
It’s a lot to grapple with.
“Hey,” I say. “I’m more than happy to do that again. You tell me when you’re ready.”
But this makes things worse. She sobs a little and hits my chest.
Oh boy. Okay.
I try to think my way around this. I’m so hot for her my cock could reach the goddamn moon. But she works downstairs. She knows the nanny.
She loves Grace.
She’s a damn virgin.
It all makes sense now. Why she held back. Why she wasn’t willing to trade a fling with me for a future with the baby.
Thing is, I believe her now. And I’m on board.
My dick, not so much. But I control it. It doesn’t control me.
“Arianna?” I say. “Come here.”
She’s already in my arms, but I lift her higher so her head is tucked against my neck.
“I thought you wanted to do this,” she says. She’s trying to sound normal, but the quavering in her voice gives her away.
“I do,” I say. “I can’t even tell you how much I do. I’d rather shoot off my damn dick than not do it.”
I can feel her expression shift, even though I can’t see her face. “Then why?”
I could tell her the easy answer. That she’s a virgin. That if she’s saved it this long, she should just hold out for Mr. Right, not Mr. Asshole.
But she deserves more of an answer than that. And I don’t even know where to begin.
“Is it because I’m not like your society women?” she asks. “I have no idea what I’m doing?”
“No,” I say quickly. “That’s just fun and games for them. You’re just…different.”
“Different bad or different good?” she asks.
“Different perfect,” I say.
She’s quiet for a minute and I think we’ve gotten past it. My cock hasn’t, still standing at perfect attention. In the hazy light of the strings overhead, I can see every delectable inch of her. And that part of my brain is directly wired to the part that wants to slam into her.
But it won’t.
“Is it because I know about Birmingham?” she asks.
Now I get still. “What do you know?” Has she hired her own investigator? Have I missed something? God damn it. I never should have left the purge to those incompetent fools.
“Of course,” she says. “I saw the shirt. And Max is from there. And the clock.”
My jaw tenses. That damn clock. I was a sentimental jerk to keep it. Shit. Shit. Shit. The name on it would tell her everything. Obviously it has.
Because otherwise, Hasmund McDonald just disappears at age twenty-three.
Yeah, Hasmund. Thanks, Mom and Pop. They gave me a name so rare anyone could find me by Googling my first name alone.
She’d find dozens of pictures of me and the dogs at the racetrack. I was the photogs’ favorite kennel mucker, big cheesy-ass smile, Raggedy Ann freckles, and Alfalfa cowlick. Right as the Internet kicked into gear.
“I guess you’re curious about how a guy goes from cleaning dog kennels to Fortune 500 companies,” I say.
This startles her. I can feel it ripple through her body. “You used to clean dog kennels?”
I clamp my jaw. I don’t know anything anymore. What she knows. Doesn’t know. What she’s after. Blackmail to get Grace?
“Dell, hey,” she says. “You’re going completely tense.”
She sits up and looks at me. “I think it’s amazing that you built your empire from nothing. That’s a hell of a lot more impressive than cashing in a trust fund.”
I force myself to relax. This is Arianna. The crusader who wants to save every rich child from a lonely childhood. She wouldn’t blackmail anybody.
“Tell me,” she says gently. “Who is Barclay McDonald?”
The idea that someone would know, that I could talk about the ghosts from my past, is inviting. It’s been forever since I’ve spoken any of their names. Some of them were good people.
“He was my grandfather,” I say.
“Oh!” she sits up more. Her breasts sway before my face and I feel momentarily lost with the need to feel them again. “As in the grandfather with your grandmother Grace?”
I drag my view from her breasts to her face. “Yes. It is.”
“Oh, tell me about her!”
I drag my gaze from her chest again. “My father’s mother. She was a typical housewife. She kept me when I was little. Loved me to the moon and back.”
“So your grandfather made clocks?”
“He did. They never had a lot of money. It wasn’t exactly a booming business. But they got by.”
“The clock in your room is amazing.”
“Yes, he made a few of his own. If I could go back, I would have advised him to go upscale and serve the interior designer market, but back then all I knew were greyhounds.”
“You said you had greyhounds before Max. You had them as a kid, then?” Her face is full of excitement. She’s enjoying hearing my story.
It all just tumbles out, like a great purge.
“My parents worked at the Birmingham Racetrack. Dad helped in concessions. Mom cleaned. I generally mucked the area where they let the dogs relieve themselves when they were out of their kennels.”
“A productive job for a boy.”
She’s being kind.
“It was a shit job.”
She laughs. “It is. I didn’t have a job. In f
act, I’ve never had a job with a boss.”
“Be glad,” I say. “It’s nothing but misery.”
“So how did you work your way up from poop to hot shit?” she says.
I tug on her ear. “Not funny.”
“Is too,” she says.
The moment earlier seems to be forgotten. At least for now.
“What I really wanted to be was a lead-out,” I say.
“A what?”
“The lead-out is usually a teenaged boy who leads the dogs out on the track and into the starting box.”
“Wouldn’t the trainer do that?” she asks.
“Too low a job for them,” I say. “But perfect for a young strong boy who is great with the dogs.”
“I take it you never got to be a lead-out,” she says.
“No. Those jobs kept going to rich kids whose fathers were in racing or owned dogs. Even though I was perfect for it. Even though I would have done it for free.”
“I can see how that would motivate you.” She tilts her head. “I looked you up pretty thoroughly when you bought my building,” she says. “I was worried about redevelopment and having my business evicted. I never saw anything about dog racing.”
“You won’t,” I say. “I had it all purged.”
“You purged the Internet?”
“No, just anything connected to me.” I hesitate. “I changed my name.”
Now she sits all the way up. “Get out of town! What did it used to be?”
I don’t think I’m going to give that up. “Let’s just say that Dell Brant suited my brand better than Old McDonald.”
“Tell me your old first name,” she says. “Or I will tickle you.”
She throws her leg over me, her fingers running up and down my sides. “Tell Arianna!”
I’m not the least bit ticklish, but the sight of her naked body straddling mine is way more than I can handle. “Okay, okay!” I say. “Hasmund.”
She stills. “What?”
“Hasmund.”
“Spell that.”
“I’m not going to spell it!”
She looks thoughtful. “Is that even a name?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Huh.”
Her warm, wet body parts are against my belly, her breasts hovering over my face. I can’t take it.
“Arianna,” I say, “I have to move you, or I’m not going to be able to control myself whatsoever.”
She flattens her palms against my chest, as if she can stop me from shifting her away. “Why is that?” she asks. “Why do you need control? I’m right here. Totally naked. I’ve said yes.”
Her throat bobs. She’s going to get upset again.
“You haven’t done this before,” I say. “And I’ve got too many feelings about you to just take something that precious.”
She moves her arms to cross in front of her chest, as if she’s suddenly shy. “How did you know that?”
“I felt it. That is one intact hymen you have there.”
Her lips press together. “I had some pretty screwed-up ideas about sex and love,” she says. “I don’t know. There’s just all these husbands at my spa, fathers even, and they are all just looking for their next poke. I wanted something more.”
“So you chose me.”
She opens her mouth to say something, then closes it again.
“Arianna,” I say. “Are you sure?”
She melts a little, the stiffness in her body starting to give a little. “Yes,” she says. “A thousand million times yes.”
I grasp her waist and lift her off me. “Then it will just have to be a thousand million times worth it.”
Chapter 40: Arianna
Dell shifts me on my back. Now that we’ve settled this matter — again — I’m nervous. It’s time to just do this.
He peels off his boxers. I can see him now, and not the way he was before the shower with Carrie in the room.
He’s monstrous. It comes at me like it has a mind of its own.
“Um, birth control,” I say. “Unless Grace needs a sibling, like now.”
He laughs. “Got it.” He pads over to his bag.
“You brought condoms?” I ask. “Did you plan this?”
He tears open a square package. “Think about it. I always plan this.”
Okay, true.
He leans down to kiss my mouth. I relax into it, thinking about all the other kisses. The wake-up. The sofa. And earlier tonight, as we began.
I like them all. But this one has so much more to say. “I’ll take care of you.” And “I’ll be careful.”
His hand moves down my body, touching, cupping, massaging. He reaches between my legs again. I don’t think his fingers will match the skill of his mouth, but I’m wrong. His thumb finds a spot and whoa, I’m soaring again, that familiar need winding up.
The room swirls around me, like I’m drunk. But it’s just him, Dell, and the magic of his fingers. Soon I’m breathing hard, and I want to spread for him again. I want to feel that starburst a second time.
He shifts over me, the weight of him solid. I feel him, but don’t overthink it, caught up in the shower of sensation of his hand.
“Talk to me if I should adjust,” he says, and I just nod because I don’t want him to change a thing.
But suddenly there’s pressure added in, and I clutch his back. I’m caught between the pleasure of his hand, and the thick filling of him inside me. There’s a sharp pain, like a hard pinch, and I gasp.
He pauses. “You okay?”
I nod. Now it all mixes together. Pain and arousal. Discomfort and bliss.
Dell starts to move over me. I love the slide of his body across mine. His fingers continue their pattern, pushing me higher. Slowly, the ache fades out, and I’m left with him, shifting above me, and his hand, slow and careful.
“I’m good,” I tell him. “It’s good now.”
His finger moves more swiftly and I can scarcely breathe. The star is getting brighter and fuller and I’m so ready for it to burst.
The sensations are even more overwhelming than the first time, with the combination of his muscles working over mine, his hand, plus the fullness inside me.
“Come for me, Arianna,” he says. “Come for me right now.”
His words split me open just as the light bursts. I hear him groaning, his thrusts more fervent, and the pleasure just goes on and on. It’s not just a single explosion, but a continuum, like the end of a fireworks display. Shower after shower after shower.
Finally, they settle. I gasp for breath, trying to hold on to the feeling, not wanting it to end.
But something new spreads through me. A flood of peace, contentment, quiet joy.
“Holy shit,” I say. “Is it always like this?”
Dell laughs, low and throaty. “No.”
“Different worse or different better?”
“Different perfect.”
He slides away for a moment and my body shivers. Then he’s back, pulling back the covers, sliding me beneath them.
I’m wrapped up with him, his arms tight around my shoulders, across my chest.
“Do you always sleep with them afterward?” I ask. I can’t help it.
“No,” he says again.
“Do you ever?”
“Arianna, let’s sleep.”
“Can we do it again in the morning?”
This makes him laugh. “We can do it as many times as you want.”
He falls asleep quickly, but I feel like I have coffee in my veins. Why didn’t I do this before? I clutch his arm. He’s amazing. He’s perfect.
I look up at the lights strung over my head and think, this is a wonder. If there is no other night with Dell, if this is it, I will not regret it. It was magical. France. The food. The lights. The room. Even the baby.
And Dell. Dell. Dell. Dell.
It’s probably the endorphins, but I’m totally in love with Hasmund McDonald.
Chapter 41: Dell
Arianna
gets her wish in the wee hours of the morning. I get up and feed the baby, change her, and settle her back to sleep around five. I kill the lights too, to make sure they don’t keep her up.
Then I start kissing the sleeping form in my bed.
I start with her knees, nibbling at the edges. Then up her thighs. She sighs and adjusts, parting them for me.
I thought so.
I slip a finger inside her. She’s still incredibly slick and wet.
“Hey, beautiful,” I say in her ear.
She stirs a little, and I caress her sweet clit, that perfect nub that was a cinch to find. I add a second finger, and now she moans. She’s coming awake.
My mouth lowers to hers. She murmurs a little, then her hand comes around to the back of my neck.
I move over her. The condom is already in place, as I’m not wasting any time on this one. When her eyes open, she sucks in a breath. “It’s not a dream,” she says.
“Total reality,” I say. Now that I have her, I pour on the sensation down below. My mouth takes her nipple in my mouth, and I tug.
“Oh my God,” she says, her hips bucking upward like they’re pulled by a string.
And they are. Mine. I own her.
“Dell, oh Dell, oh Dell,” she murmurs. I capture her mouth before she stirs our baby.
When I’m sure she can’t cry out, I plunge into her. She gasps against me, but holds silent. Unlike last night, when she held still, anxious about how the pain and pleasure might compete, this morning, she’s wild. Her hands grab my ass, shoving me into her.
Her breasts bounce, creating a sweet friction against my chest.
I want her to know more, feel more, so I slide my hands behind her back and twist us around.
Now she’s on top of me, straddling my cock.
She sucks in a breath, looking down. “This is more,” she whispers.
Her hands grip the pillows on either side of my head.
“More how?” I don’t get a lot of honest sex talk from the women I have trysts with.
“You’re farther in,” she says. “I feel it in new places.”
I lean back, my hands behind my head. “Do what you like, then.”