by Eden Summers
We’re on the road within silent minutes, the blood pounding from my building libido the only sound.
“Are you having second thoughts?” He flashes me a look of concern.
It makes me want him more. “I’m right where I want to be.”
His lips tweak in the slightest curve of approval before he concentrates on traffic. We head into the heart of the capital, not far from my hotel, and stop inside another parking lot, this one below a towering apartment complex.
He entwines our fingers as we walk to the elevator, my tongue tingling, my chest throbbing. I wait for him to maul me inside the enclosed space, but there’s no voracious kissing session. He maintains his air of calm, not showing a hint of this obsession he spoke of, and takes me to the top level.
The penthouse.
I’d envisaged we would’ve been all over each other by now. Fingers clawing. Legs tangled.
It’s the opposite. He’s suave with his sickening patience, opening his front door wide to allow me to take the first step into his perfectly appointed space.
I’m not sure what I expected—maybe a bachelor pad with sleazy art or clothes strewn on the floor? But that isn’t what I stand in front of. This place is beautiful, the kitchen before me entirely spotless from the marble counters to the stainless-steel appliances, and all the way down the floor-to-ceiling wine fridge.
“Want another drink?” He closes the door behind me, then strides ahead.
“I’d love one.” I’d love anything that might taper the rabid beat in my chest.
“Do you have a preference?” He opens a cupboard and pauses, waiting for my response.
“I’m easy. You decide.”
He reaches inside for a glass and grins to himself, as if he can’t wait to test just how easy I am with a million X-rated surprises.
I place my cell on the kitchen counter and turn in a slow circle, taking in the home that suits him without flaw. The furniture is commanding and elegant. All polished woods with white coverings, from the lounge setting in the adjoining room to the dining table a yard to my left.
Everything is immaculate. No clutter. Not even dust.
Eclectic art lines the walls. From abstract to surrealism and pop. The different pieces draw attention to what must be expensive taste.
“Your home is beautiful.” I turn back to face him as he makes our drinks.
“Our home,” he corrects without missing a beat.
I chuckle, and slowly sidestep toward the mail farther along the counter. “Are you like this with all your women?”
“All my women?” He pulls out a drawer, the clink of liquor bottles following the movement. “You say that as if I’m not obsessively picky with who gets to share my time.”
“So I should be flattered?”
“Don’t go twisting my words, amore mio. You’re special. I think you know that.”
Arrhythmia takes over, the fractured heartbeats overwhelming me. I focus on the three letters on the bench as he pours alcohol into the glasses, and read the name on the top line of the address.
Matthew Langston.
I let the syllables roll around in my head with slow lethargy and fight the compulsion to say Layla Langston out loud just to hear how it would sound.
I may not have slept with him yet, but this is moving fast.
I’m picturing my life here, in this penthouse, in his world. Away from the drama of my family and the complications that always follow them.
“Here.” He rounds the island counter to hand me what looks like a glass of juice. “A screwdriver.”
“Perfect.” I take a sip and watch him do the same with his scotch.
For a few seconds we simply eye each other between subtle swallows of alcohol. No words. Only blazing attraction.
“I’m going to preface this next question by telling you I’ve never ended a work night on a better note,” he murmurs. “But why are you here, Layla?” He places his glass on the counter and cocks his hip against the marble, his full attention remaining on me.
My throat tightens, not only with the way he reads me, but in contemplation of the truth.
He’s opened the door to his life, allowing me free rein, and I’m still hesitant to unlock mine. Even just a little.
“You owe me a goodbye.” I shrug.
He steps closer, the tips of his shoes nudging mine. “Well, you’re going to be disappointed.” He cages me against the counter, one hand on either side of my waist. “There are no more goodbyes for us.”
I hold in a smirk. “Ever?”
“Ever.” He leans in, but doesn’t touch. I’m almost certain it’s a strategy. To make me want what he holds back. “Is there anything else I can compensate you with?” The question is purred with the most sinister seduction.
He wants me to voice my desires. To ask for sex. “I’m sure we could find a suitable compromise.”
His lips kick with a grin as he glides a gentle hand through my hair. “You captivate me. You’re bold and fearless enough to fly across the country to see me. Yet hesitant and almost unsure when it comes to voicing how much you want to fuck me.”
I suck in a shallow breath.
“You’re a puzzle I need to solve.” He slides his hands over my hips and lifts me onto the counter, just like he did in the hotel bathroom in Denver.
“And once you have me figured out?” I raise a brow. “What then?”
“I don’t think that will happen. This is a rest-of-my-life type of task.”
I laugh, my humor quickly smothered by his mouth swooping down on mine.
He kisses me with severity. With strength and conviction and lust. His lips are so damn commanding. His hands a steel-like grip at my waist.
When he pulls back, I’m panting, struggling to catch my breath… my thoughts.
“You think I’m kidding, amore mio,” he whispers. “But this isn’t a game. You mean something. We’re meant to mean something.”
“What if you’re wrong?” My insecurities voice themselves before I can rein them in. “What then?”
He narrows his eyes, staring at me with fascination. “Then you can walk away without any animosity between us… But that’s a future that isn’t in the cards.”
He makes everything seem so easy. So dreamy. And maybe that’s what our world could be like—all rainbows and unicorns—if I were another person.
“We’re adults, Layla,” he continues. “I’ll make sure you don’t regret your time with me.”
I want him to be right. God, how I want it.
I want to be protected. Not by an overbearing brother, but by an adoring, passionate lover. I want more of this giddy feeling in my stomach. I want freedom and happiness and a fresh slate.
“I think you might be right.” I lock my legs around his, encouraging him to decimate the space between us, the hem of my dress rising to my crotch. “I want this.”
He lowers his hold from the adamant force at my waist to the most delicious hold on my upper thighs. He keeps his hands there, his thumbs mere inches from where my body demands attention as he stares down at me, waiting.
“Do you want me to beg?” I ask.
“No. You never need to beg for anything.” He digs his fingers into my flesh. “My hunger isn’t a charitable donation you ever need to plead for. But I do want more of an assurance that this is what you want, because every other time I’ve had my hands on you it’s felt like shock or intimidation has played a role.”
I nod, even though the devil on my shoulder whispers I’m only here because I’ve fled my family and he was the only one I had to turn to. The only person I know who doesn’t owe my brother favors.
“I’m here for you.” It’s still the truth. “All the other times I was, too. Even under duress I can make clear choices.”
“Be sure, Layla. I’m playing for keeps.”
“Are you trying to talk me out of this?”
“Never.” His eyes glaze with lust, his nostrils flaring slightly before his mouth s
teals mine again.
It’s a frenzy of lips and tongues and teeth. A wild dance of my snatching fingers at his collared shirt and his strong hands on my heated skin.
“It feels like a fucking lifetime since I had you naked.” He reaches around the back of my dress, finding my zipper to drag it down. “I’m going to burn all your clothes.”
He grabs the heaped material at my thighs and helps to pull the dress over my stomach, my shoulders, my head. “On second thought…” He leans back to take in my fire-red lingerie, a lone finger reaching out to trail along the tiny strap of silk circling my waist that holds up the even tinier V of lace at my crotch. “You can keep these… at least temporarily.”
“You like?”
“That’s a fucking understatement,” he growls. “They look brand new. Tell me you bought them for me.”
“I bought them for you,” I whisper.
“Jesus.” The oath is groaned. “You’re so goddamn obedient. Such a fucking treasure.” He pushes farther between my legs, the hardness behind his zipper a mere inch from where I want it to be. “After all the things I’ve fantasized about doing to you, you’d think I’d know where to start.” His fingers creep higher and higher until they’re at the crotch of my panties.
I jolt at the briefest swipe of his thumb over my pussy as his lips approach mine.
“You missed me.” He holds my gaze, staring deep into my eyes. “You’re already soaked.”
I bite my lip. Nod.
“What did you miss most?” He strokes his thumbs back and forth along the lace V, sending a mass of tingles through my clit.
I close my eyes and nuzzle his nose, working my fingers down his buttons, popping them one by one. “I missed the empowerment I feel when I’m around you. You increase my confidence.”
“And you feel confident now?” he asks against my lips.
“Yeah. I do.”
He kisses me, soft and gentle. Teasing and slow. “Okay then, amore mio. Show me.”
18
Matthew
She isn’t startled by my request, yet something lingers on the edges of her expression, spitting in the face of the confidence she claims to have.
I step back, readjusting the stiffness in my pants. “Strip for me.”
Her chin lifts, as if in defense, but she holds my gaze and snakes her arms around her back, unclasping the see-through bra in silence. The straps loosen at her shoulders as she cups her breasts, guiding the material into her hands, then dropping it to the tile floor.
“Slow and steady doesn’t always win the race, amore mio.” I’m not sure she’s aware of how much she’s teasing me. But I’m dying here. The anticipation of sinking home between her thighs is fucking killing me.
“Do you use that endearment with everyone?” she purrs. “It means my love in Italian, right?”
“Right.” I fight against the need to claim those perfect tits with my hands, my mouth, my cock. I want to cover them with my seed. Mark her like a fucking beast. “Would you prefer tesoro mio?” My treasure. “Or bella mia?” My beauty.
Her lips curve. “I’d prefer an honest endearment. One without the player charm.”
“Then hear this, sei tutto per me.” You are my everything.
She blinks back at me, lost for a moment, her hands gripping the edge of the marble counter.
“Want me to translate?” I lick my lower lip, itching to taste her, to plant my head between those thighs.
“No.” Her response is breathy as she grabs my jacket and yanks me forward. “It’s best if you keep quiet. You undo me in both languages, and I need to keep my wits about me.”
I snicker as she drags me in for a kiss, one arm curling around my neck, the other working on her underwear as she jostles from side to side.
I help her, yanking the string of material down her smooth legs, letting it fall to my feet. She’s exposed, her thighs spread, yet she holds me close, not allowing me the freedom to look my fill.
This attraction has a life of its own.
I was consumed by it from the first night we met when I’d been watching her from the restaurant kitchen, her expression filled with determination and strength as she spied on the Costa family dinner. Then, in a split-second, Bishop scared the confidence from her features, and the frail panic triggered regrets from my past.
She needed saving. And unlike those I failed in my youth, I refused to let her suffer.
“Ho un debole per te.” I’m weak for you.
Completely powerless.
I would fall to my knees for her. In lust. In protection. For no other reason than this maddening chemistry between us.
“Shh.” She presses her mouth harder to mine, demanding silence as our chests brush.
I snicker, dragging my palm to the apex of her thighs, sliding my fingers over her mound as our tongues tangle. I’m worked up. Hard as stone. Determined as hell. “Nessuno potrà mai confrontare.”
She gasps. “Stop it. You’re killing me.”
“And not being inside you is killing me.”
She whimpers and holds me tighter to her lips.
I glide my fingertips to her slit, finding her wet, making her hips roll. The growl of gratitude that vibrates in my throat is uncontainable.
I’d hoped she’d be like this—utterly perfect—and prayed she wouldn’t be in the same breath. There’s no withstanding her. Not now. Maybe never.
I sink my fingers inside her, the walls of her pussy clamping down on me while she shudders.
“Matthew.” Her voice is nothing more than a breathy plea. “You make me crazy.”
She grinds into the curl of my fingers, kissing me harder, gripping tighter on my neck.
I need a fucking drink.
A time-out.
Something… anything to keep this from ending too fast. One blink and it will all be over.
“You have the same effect on me.” I reluctantly remove my fingers from her heat, needing to savor this, and clench my fist as I pull back. Her juices dampen my palm, the exquisite texture tempting me to lick my own damn skin.
She stiffens with my retreat, panting, her brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?”
Everything.
I don’t just want to fuck her—I want to watch her. See her. Know her.
I raise my knuckles to the underside of her chin, tilting her face flush with mine. The scent of her sex lingers between us, the heady perfume filling my lungs.
Does it drug her the way it does me?
Is she drowning in lust, barely functional due to her need?
Those deep blue depths staring my way keep me grounded.
“Nei tuoi occhi c’è il cielo.” Heaven is in your eyes.
She licks her lower lip, her gaze lust drunk as her hands circle my wrist, guiding my knuckles higher. With a gentle touch, she unfolds my fist, and tilts her face to align my fingertips with her lips.
I hold my breath. Captivated.
Then she plunges fantasy into reality, gliding her mouth over my digits to suck them against the warmth of her tongue.
Fuck.
I feel the suction all the way to my dick. I picture it, too—her lips along my shaft, her tongue teasing the slit.
“You’re destroying me,” I grate, “in the best possible way.”
She chuckles and pulls my fingers from her mouth with a pop. “Do you have protection?” She reaches for my belt, undoing the buckle.
I tense, already close enough to end this with one damn stroke. “In the bedroom.”
“How far away is it?”
“Too far,” I growl, smashing my lips to hers.
She begins to stroke me through the material of my pants, gentle and slow. “Are you clean?”
Sweet Jesus.
“I’ve never fucked without a condom.” I clench my teeth to fight the pleasure, the delicious drag along my shaft driving me to madness.
She increases the pace. The severity. “Are you willing for me to be your first?”
�
��Amore mio, I’m willing for you to be my last.”
She pulls back to meet my gaze, her eyes glistening in that sexually timid way of hers even though her palm circles my dick. “Don’t say things you don’t mean. It makes me hopeful.”
“Are you asking for a commitment, Layla? Because I’ll give it to you.”
Her brows pull tight and she shakes her head. “I just want you. Just for tonight.”
Tonight is only the start.
I lower my zipper, pull out my cock, and align it with the sweetest pussy known to man as she makes quick work of my jacket and shirt, shoving them off my shoulders to fall to the tile.
I grip her hip in one hand, digging my fingers deep, and guide the head of my dick to her slit, dragging it back and forth through her heat.
She closes her eyes, releasing a moan as she leans one hand against the counter, thrusting those breasts toward me.
Fuck, she’s flawless.
Malleable. Eager. Yet with the slightest hint of innocence.
I increase the pace, rubbing back and forth, each graze of my cock making her back arch, her hips tilt.
So fucking incredible.
I lean forward, no longer able to resist those gorgeous tits, and suck a stiffened nipple into my mouth.
She moans, the feminine sound filling my ears, her fingers finding my hair. She pulls tight, causing pain to lash my scalp. The harder I suck, the stronger she pulls, until the burn running through my head is the best fucking thrill I’ve ever had.
I suck until she writhes. Until I can’t concentrate on grinding her against my dick because I’m too fucking wound up from her whimpers and moans.
“You ready?” I growl.
She nods and shuffles closer to the edge of the marble, positioning herself right where she needs to be. I don’t tease us a moment longer. I thrust home, sinking my shaft to the hilt as I palm her hips.
Those gorgeous eyes roll. Her head lolls back. She keeps those breasts in my face, and I latch on, sucking, grazing, as I pound a hard rhythm inside her.
“Oh, God.” She tightens her legs around me. “This is going to be shamelessly quick… I’ve never…” Her pussy clamps tight around me. “Matthew…”
She scours my skull with her nails, but I don’t stop the suction on her nipple. I ride out her orgasm, her pleasure filling my ears, sinking into my memories.