I’m spoiled for anyone else.
It’s like a warning bell deep within her.
He’s lifting her again, has her rise up on her knees in front of him, so he can slide his mouth down to her breasts. Lapping at her nipples, first the left, then the right, then both pushed and molded together.
God. She clutches his head, hands tangled in his hair. It’s all sensation. Caught in a storm. His fingers find their way into her shorts, snaking their way inside her panties.
“Babe,” Road groans when he touches her. His fingers move through where she’s slick and hot and ready.
She gasps when two of them slide home, her breath thready, her body pulsing around him with want.
“Feel so nice,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough. His fingers are doing all sorts of wicked things to her down there. She’s not even sure what exactly, trying to pay attention because no one’s ever done it quite like this.
So good.
Her eyes are falling shut, and then she stops paying attention and surrenders to it.
When her climax is close, she makes herself slow down, takes in the moment, the surreal nature of all this. Being with Road in reality when she’s had so many fantasies. She holds back as long as she can, but then finally lets herself go.
She gasps as the first rush of ecstasy washes over her, then another, and another still, until she’s finally lost in the storm, moaning and clutching Road, riding it out. Long and intense. Years in the making. It feels endless, and when it eventually winds down, she collapses, her face pressed into the side of his cheek.
Wow . . .
They’re both still as Blair tries to recover, her body still shaking.
“Goddamn . . . you’re noisy,” he mutters, turning so his mouth is pressed next to hers. “Don’t remember that.”
“What?” Blair draws back, breathless. “Do you think Fiona heard?”
Road chuckles. “Babe, I think the whole building heard.”
She sucks in her breath, mortified. “I didn’t even think. I should have been quieter.”
“Screw that, don’t be embarrassed. I liked it.”
“You did?”
“Hell yeah,” he growls then slides his mouth over hers, the kiss deep and demanding. His hand comes up, holding her head still for him as they kiss crazily with tongues and teeth.
Eventually, they surface for air, panting.
“Come here,” he says, pulling her down to lie on the bed with him. Once there, he takes her hand and puts it directly inside his sweatpants and underwear, right on his cock, and wraps her fingers tightly around him.
He’s very hard. Rigid. His flesh scorching. And as soon as she touches him, Road releases a long, shuddering breath.
“That’s right,” he says, as she starts to jerk him off. “Do it like that.”
Blair keeps at it, their faces so close, his breath mingling with hers. Despite her shattering orgasm, she’s already completely turned-on again. She swallows, trying to get a hold of herself.
Road’s hand moves lower between her thighs and she opens them for him, giving him better access. He slides his fingers roughly into her panties and seems desperate to touch her. She sobs with relief when he finds her center.
His breath turns ragged as he plays with her. Fingers doing that magical thing again as Blair squirms against them. His cock is as rigid as iron in her hand.
She’s so aroused, she’s half out of her mind and knows she’s going to come again soon. There’s nothing to be done about it. When she finally gives in, helpless to stop it, Road puts his mouth over hers, swallowing her moans. He gives a low groan himself, and Blair realizes he’s there, too, pulsing and coming in her hand.
“Damn, that was good,” he breathes afterwards.
Blair closes her eyes and nods in agreement.
Neither of them says anything more as they lie on their sides, facing each other. Road pulls away and gets out of bed while she remains there, exhausted, listening to him go into the bathroom.
He isn’t gone long and returns with one of her towels. They both use it to clean up. When they’re done, he tosses it aside then strips out of his sweats and underwear so he’s naked.
Beside her again, she feels his hands on her hips, tugging her shorts and panties off. He has her turn so he’s behind her, spooning her with his warm body.
Blair lies there in a daze. His smoky scent is everywhere . . . on me, around me, in me. Like an imprint, a part of her now.
She thinks about how wrong she was. Road isn’t a bad lover. He’s incredible. And that was just using our hands. She flashes on that crazed ex-girlfriend from years ago, the one who smashed Isadora’s windows after he broke up with her. I think I kind of get it.
She sighs, wonders if she’ll be able to sleep with him wrapped around her like this or if she’ll be awake all night. But then she realizes it isn’t like before, being with him in the same bed, aroused and on edge. Instead, she’s totally relaxed.
Road shifts behind her, seems to sense her active mind and kisses her shoulder. “Go to sleep, Blair,” he whispers.
She lets out her breath.
Then, amazingly, she does exactly what he says and falls asleep.
THE BED IS empty the next morning.
I’m still naked, so it couldn’t have been a dream.
Blair slept hard and deep. Two of the most intense climaxes of her life probably had something to do with it. There’s a hazy memory of Road’s hands on her in the early morning, caressing her back.
Where did he go?
She gets up, searches around for her pink robe, and wraps it around herself. After a quick stop in the bathroom, she ventures into the other room where there are voices and the delicious aroma of coffee and breakfast.
“Look what the cat dragged in,” Fiona says when she sees Blair. “Don’t you look . . . refreshed.”
Fiona is sitting in one of the tall chairs at the kitchen counter. Her dark hair’s pulled back in a ponytail, and she’s wearing a sapphire blue velvet hoodie along with black-framed reading glasses.
Road turns from where he’s standing in front of the stove. “Hey, princess.”
“Hey,” she says softly. Their eyes meet and last night passes between them, sending a shiver of delight through her. “What are you doing?”
“Making pancakes. Want some?”
Blair takes him in. He’s wearing gray sweats and a white crew-neck shirt. His blond hair is disheveled and tucked behind his ears. She wishes she could go over and stand behind him, wrap her arms around his waist, hug him close, but despite what happened last night, she knows she can’t.
As good as it was, that wasn’t exactly romance.
To be honest, she’s not entirely sure what it was, so instead she goes over and sits next to Fiona, who is studying her phone.
“I’d love some pancakes,” Blair says, enjoying the fact that he’s the one making them. All part of the new, improved Road, the one who knows how to cook.
“I just spoke with a humorist I know,” Fiona tells Blair, not looking away from her phone. “He sounds interested.”
“Interested in what?”
Fiona rolls her eyes. “Your mother, of course. God, keep up.”
“Fiona, back off,” Road growls from over by the stove. “She’s just barely awake.”
Fiona smirks. “My, oh, my, somebody’s feeling like the big protector this morning.”
Blair watches Road flip a pancake with a deft hand. The same one that brought her such pleasure last night. Such magical fingers. I should have guessed. But why would I? He wasn’t like that before. Plus, she doesn’t remember any of his girlfriends commenting on it years ago. Not that they would, necessarily, though they commented on other things. Mostly about how horny Road always was.
“Anyway,” Fiona continues. “I’ve spoken to this humorist I know and he wants to see your mother’s paintings. We’re thinking at the very least a book, some posters, though a whole line of merchandise coul
d be in the works.”
“Really? Don’t you think my mother’s paintings sort of look like . . . um . . .”
“Cocks?” Fiona asks.
“Yes.”
Fiona smiles. “They do and they don’t, and that’s what makes them so brilliant.”
“Brilliant?”
“They’re whimsical. Charming. With the right caption beneath them, I believe they could be quite witty, as well.”
Blair tries to imagine it and strangely, she can sort of see what Fiona’s talking about.
“You should be more supportive of your mother.” Fiona shoots her a look. “What kind of daughter are you?”
Road places a plate in front of Blair with a few pancakes. “Here you go, babe.” He turns to Fiona. “Play nice.”
Fiona smirks. “I’m enjoying this new side of you, Nathan. Now, aren’t you two glad I forced you together last night?”
Blair looks up from her plate and Road flashes her a quick grin. “I’m not complaining.”
“Maybe that’s why your book is stalled,” Fiona continues. “All this marital strife. Some artists thrive on it, but others, not so much.”
Road sighs with annoyance and goes back over to the stove. “I’m not stalled.”
Fiona picks up her coffee cup. “It’s not uncommon to struggle with the sophomore book when the first one does well.”
“Not struggling,” he grumbles.
Fiona raises an eyebrow at him but doesn’t say anything more on the subject, just goes back to her phone.
“What exactly does a media and marketing specialist do?” Blair asks Fiona.
“I help bring visibility and success to independent writers and artists.” She pauses then smirks. “Only the ones I deem worthy, of course.”
“Like Road?”
“Yes, Nathan caught my attention right away.”
Blair nods. “You’re very pretty.” She studies Fiona’s perfect profile. “Were you ever a model?” she asks, eating her pancakes, which are buttery and delicious. “These are really good,” she tells Road.
“Thanks.” He pours the last of the batter into the pan.
Fiona scoffs. “Of course not.”
“Really? I’m sure you could easily model.”
“Why would I bother with something like that?”
Blair shrugs. “The money’s probably good.”
“Fiona is too old to be a model,” Road says, and she can see him grinning. “Plus, she’s richer than shit, so she doesn’t need the money.”
Fiona looks up from her phone, over her glasses. “Nathan is correct, I am very rich. But I’m not too old to model.”
Road flips the pancakes. “Forty is way too old.”
“You’re forty?” Blair’s brows go up. “You look much younger.”
“That’s one of the benefits to being a stone cold bitch,” Road explains to Blair earnestly. “You never age. She’ll look this way when she’s a hundred.”
Fiona laughs with delight. “If only I could bottle and sell it.”
“If only,” Road agrees.
Blair eats her pancakes while Road and Fiona continue bantering. Finally, Road announces he’s going to go take a shower. As soon as he’s gone down the hall into the bathroom, Fiona turns to her.
“Who’s Marla?”
Blair freezes. “What?”
Fiona is watching her steadily. “Someone named Marla called Nathan this morning. It sounds like he’s going over there today.”
There’s a sick feeling in Blair’s stomach as she finishes chewing the pancake which now tastes like dirt. “She’s an old girlfriend of his.”
Fiona nods. “I knew it. There was something in the tone of his voice.”
Blair stares at her plate, picking at her food. She feels like throwing the plate at the wall. I guess last night really didn’t mean anything.
“You’re in love with him.” Fiona says it as a statement.
Blair’s head jerks up. She can hear Road turn on the shower.
“Don’t try and deny it. Obviously you are, but he’s not in love with you.”
Blair stares at Fiona.
“Was Nathan ever in love with you?” she demands to know.
“I . . .” Blair isn’t sure whether she should be insulted or impressed by this conversation. “He married me, didn’t he?”
“Yes, but something’s off. Why did he marry you?”
“Love, of course.”
Fiona rakes her brilliant blue eyes over Blair. “I doubt that.” She drums her short, dark nails on the counter. “No, there had to be another reason. What is it?”
Blair gets up and takes her plate over to the sink. “As entertaining as this conversation is, I’m done talking now. I have plans today.”
“Plans? What plans?”
“I’m meeting Tori. We’re going to go shopping and have lunch.”
“Perfect. What time?”
“I’m not inviting you.”
Fiona’s mouth falls open. “I cannot believe how rude you are!”
Blair doesn’t reply, but instead goes into her bedroom to pick out clothes. She’s still in shock about Road meeting up with Marla. All Marla did was call and he immediately goes running to her. He didn’t even ask me what my plans were today.
Despite all this, Blair can’t find it in herself to regret what happened last night. Road’s scent is still on her skin, in her bed, everywhere, and being so close to him was incredible. He may have spent all these years traveling and having one adventure after another, but last night was her own adventure.
So what if that makes me pitiful?
As she’s thinking this, Road comes into the bedroom. He’s fully dressed in jeans and a gray hoodie. “Hey, babe, I’m headed out. Just wanted to let you know I’m taking Isadora.”
Blair’s stomach sinks. He’s going to drive around with Marla in Isadora?
“You all right?” he comes over to her. His hair is damp, and he smells like the citrus body wash in her shower.
“I’m fine.” She tries to give him a haughty look, but can’t quite pull it off.
His hand goes to her hair, which she knows looks like a large tangled bush, then slips beneath to the back of her neck. “You’re not regretting last night, are you?”
“No,” she admits. His hand feels good, and she tries not to let it affect her.
His green eyes search hers. “I know we have . . . history. A shitty history.” He lets out his breath. “Thought it was good last night, though.” He’s still studying her and seems keenly interested in her response.
“It was great.”
Road nods, his laser focus apparently satisfied. He takes his hand away and seems uncomfortable all of a sudden. “Catch you later.”
And then he leaves the bedroom.
He didn’t even kiss me goodbye.
She sighs.
Definitely not romance.
Blair tries to go into the bathroom to get ready and discovers Fiona in there with the door locked.
When did my peaceful sanctuary get so crowded?
Fiona spends what seems like two years in the bathroom. When Blair finally enters, she discovers bottles of lotion and makeup strewn all over the counter. There are two wet towels on the floor.
Blair is tempted to dump all that makeup in the trash and see how Fiona likes it. Instead, she straightens up, organizing by group.
“This is not a hotel,” Blair tells her when she finds Fiona in Road’s office after getting ready.
“Don’t I know it.” Fiona is standing, looking out the window at the city street.
“And I am not your maid, so pick up after yourself.”
Fiona doesn’t say anything. There’s something off about the way she’s standing there, her hand touching the window frame.
“Why are you hanging out in here?” Blair asks.
“Isn’t it obvious? I’d like some privacy, if you don’t mind.”
Blair turns to leave, then hesitates. “Road told me
why you’re really here.”
“Oh? And why is that?”
“He said you have a broken heart.”
Fiona whirls around. “Yes, a pitiful state I imagine you’d know plenty about.”
Blair is taken aback. Her mouth opens. “Go to hell.”
She turns to leave for real this time, but Fiona suddenly bursts into tears. Howling. Her mouth open and distorted. Fiona may be beautiful, but she doesn’t cry pretty, that’s for certain.
The two of them stand there while Fiona cries and carries on, her face still contorted in a mask. Blair would normally try and comfort someone crying, but senses it’s the last thing Fiona wants.
“You’re really ugly when you cry,” Blair tells her.
“I . . . know.” Fiona nods, still crying hysterically. “H . . . h . . . hideous.”
“You look just like the Wicked Witch in The Wizard of Oz.”
“It’s true!”
Blair leaves and goes into the bathroom, grabs the box of tissues and comes back. She puts it on Road’s desk for Fiona.
“Thank . . . you.” She pulls out some tissues, wipes her eyes, and then blows her nose. Her breath is still shaky.
“Guess Road was right about why you’re here.” Blair starts to organize Road’s desk as she stands there, stacking the envelopes and lining up all the papers so the corners match. Some of them don’t fit, and she frowns with annoyance.
Fiona watches her, still sniffling. “He’s only partly right. My girlfriend, Sachi, left me. Apparently, she doesn’t want to be together anymore.” She starts sobbing again. “I can’t b . . . believe it.”
“Why?” Blair gathers Road’s pens, wipes out an old coffee cup with tissue and puts them all in there. She can’t help peeking at some of his paperwork. It’s mostly work stuff, technical data of some sort. She also sees what looks like some kind of article about Frankfurt, Germany, that’s marked up and edited.
“Various reasons. Mainly, she says I won’t move here for her.”
“To Seattle?”
Fiona nods. “She moved to New York for me, but now says I won’t move for her.”
“Is that true?”
“I don’t want to live in Seattle!” Fiona starts wailing again. “Can you imagine me living here?”
Blair thinks about it. “I can, actually.”
Return of the Jerk (Sweet Life in Seattle, Book 2) Page 18