She scraped her nails along the hard muscles of his back, reveling in the hot feel of his smooth skin under her hands. Nipping at his neck, she gasped when he swung into motion. In seconds, she found herself on the bed. “On your knees,” he ordered.
Obediently, she knelt, but she figured it was her turn. “Truth or dare, Aiden?”
“Dare,” he responded without the least hesitation.
“Strip,” she said. “Nice and slow.”
His grin was devilish. “As you wish.” He unbuttoned his jeans before gliding his hands upward, across that dent of musculature which seemed to point between his legs. She caught her lip between her teeth, watching in fascination as he spun away from her and inched the pants down, slowly revealing that ass she couldn’t seem to resist.
He paused, glancing back at her before he moved his body in one fast wave that removed the pants and revealed his entire back and ass to her.
As he turned back to face her, she stared at his cock, proud and hard as it practically pointed at her.
He was hard. For her.
She reached for him, and he again waved his finger in front of her. “Uh uh. Truth or dare, Chels?”
Frustrated, because she wanted to touch him, she glared at him. “Now he wants to play games?” she grumbled.
“Don’t mumble,” he reminded her with a smile.
“Dare,” she answered.
“Your turn. Strip for me.”
She couldn’t do sexy, so she didn’t bother trying, removing her clothes in a rush. He helped, though, his hands seeming to touch each inch of flesh she revealed seconds before his mouth spread kisses along her spine, her wrists, everything.
He seemed determined to mark each inch of her flesh with his kisses, and she couldn’t think of a single complaint to that idea.
“Kneel again,” he said.
“It isn’t your turn,” she replied with a gasp. His lips were at her waist, nibbling at her hip.
He smacked her ass in response. She growled and pulled his hair but decided that obeying him in this case likely would be in her favor. Once she was on her knees, she was surprised to see him kneel on the floor. He urged her forward, so she knelt just at the edge of the bed.
“New dare,” he said.
“Still not your turn,” she grumbled, but she was lost in his hungry gaze and likely would do whatever he asked.
Apparently, he knew it as he said, “Spread your legs for me.”
She did, as much as she could while kneeling at the edge of the bed, and he rewarded her motion by kissing her just there…
“Oh,” she whispered, gripping his hair. “Aiden…”
But soon his tongue and lips had her wordless. His palms held her in position, only allowing her some movement as she jerked her hips toward his talented mouth. It was too much.
It was everything.
Her body ignited, fire shooting from the heat between her legs to scorch her every nerve. She spasmed, the orgasm almost catching her by surprise, only his controlling hands keeping her from melting off the bed in a puddle.
But he wasn’t done with her. Oh no, he slid her back onto his big, decadent bed and seized her lips with his own. Imprisoned by his weight, she didn’t think she could do more than gasp. But then his clever fingers had her arching again, bucking against him as he seemed to play with her body as if he knew it better than she herself did.
Maybe he did.
Her hands were busy as well, cupping him, stroking him as he suckled at her breast. “Aiden,” she whispered.
“I know,” he answered, reaching toward the nightstand. In seconds, he’d covered his beautiful cock with a condom and then used it to tease at the slit between her legs. “Chels, I need you,” he admitted.
She opened for him, welcoming him home as he sank into her body. In desperation, she moved with him, rising to meet him and draw him deeper. She couldn’t keep her eyes open, but he locked their mouths in a kiss that swallowed her shout as she came again on a cry of his name.
Chapter Twelve
Chelsea
Morning sunlight on her cheek warmed her face, and she stretched luxuriously, feeling like a cat in a welcoming sunbeam. But then the weight around her waist shifted, hugging her closer, and she froze.
She was in Aiden Kelley’s bed.
Her boss.
Shit, shit, shit. Well, she was sure she could find another job. Because he would surely fire her. Or give me a raise…
Stop that, she told herself. Quit being an idiot.
But her brain refused the request, instead second guessing everything they’d shared. He’d woken her twice in the night, each time thrilling her, because it seemed that he couldn’t get enough of her.
Probably because he’s a sex addict, her brain unhelpfully suggested. And you’re convenient right now. Location, location, location…
Not to mention she’d be leaving in two weeks. Probably things would be different if there wasn’t a set expiration date on their connection, but there was no risk for him whatsoever. She’d be out of his hair one way or another in no time flat.
“D’ya know you even complain in your sleep?” His voice was right in her ear, a small growl of a whisper. The scruffy feel of his face buried itself into her shoulder before his hand slid up her stomach and across her ribs to find a breast. Kneading the breast in question in a sensual way that made her squirm against him, he continued, “So I figured every time you woke me up, I’d wake you up. I gotta admit, Chels, I’ve never had so much fun getting woken up repeatedly in my life.”
She opened and closed her mouth, trying to think of a proper response, but then he bit her earlobe, sending a shower of sparks across her skin. The words she couldn’t find turned into a small moan.
He rolled on top of her, taking her mouth in a long, slow, and hungry kiss. When he came up for air, she managed to find her words. “I didn’t hear you complaining.”
As he rubbed against her, he laughed gently in her ear. “Not complaining now, either.”
“Dad?” said Waverley before tapping at the door. “You awake?”
They both froze, and Chelsea wasn’t sure if she felt guilty or caught, like a kid with her hand in the proverbial candy jar. Aiden placed one fingertip on her lips before answering, “Yes, I’m up, kiddo. I’ll be out in a few. Gonna grab a shower. Go ahead and get yourself a bowl of cereal and feed Hemy in the meantime?”
“Okay,” said the little girl, her footsteps retreating down the hall.
No sooner was she gone than Chelsea bolted out of the bed. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I’ll just—”
Where the hell was her bra?
His arms captured her from behind, tugging her back into his lap. His naked lap. “Calm down. The door is closed. She doesn’t know you’re in here.”
“Yes, well, I know,” she answered. “How did I lose my bra?”
She tried to scramble free, but he simply stood and lifted her into his arms. She didn’t get more than a squeak out before he kissed her again.
“You need a shower,” he advised.
“I need to…” She trailed off as he leaned her against the bathroom door, suckling her breast into his delightful mouth.
“Get a shower,” he repeated as he released the nipple.
“Okay.”
His slow smile rewarded her for her positive response. In seconds, he had the shower adjusted. She noticed he seemed blissfully unware of his nudity, while she felt exposed somehow. Like she’d revealed too much, even if it only seemed to take a touch from him to blind her to reality.
Even so, she snagged the tube of toothpaste from the sink and used a little on her fingertip to freshen her breath. Although he seemed not to care about that sort of thing, when he wasn’t driving her wild with passion, she remembered common niceties.
But he came up behind her while she still had her finger in her mouth. The multiple bulbs surrounding the bathroom mirror illuminated her naked body in front of his, and she compared them. She
wasn’t model gorgeous, just rather ordinary, while he was spectacular. Even with that knowledge in place, she couldn’t help sucking in a deep breath when his hand cupped her breast. There was something sinfully erotic about both feeling his rough palm against her sensitive skin and seeing it in the glass.
He seemed to know that, because he met her eyes in the reflection. “Watch. Watch what I can do to you, my staid and careful Chelsea.”
His teeth came down on her earlobe, startling a shocked sound from her throat. The sound elongated into a moan as he laved the spot and then ran wet kisses down her neck. His hands didn’t slow, kneading her breasts and tweaking her nipples, and she sagged against him.
He tsked that action, coming around in front of her. His kiss was hungry, rolling their tongues together and making her go on tiptoes for more. But then he sank to his knees in front of her. “Keep watching the mirror, Chels. Brace your hands on the sink top,” he ordered.
“Bossy,” she said.
“You have no idea,” he said, repeating his sentiment from the night before.
Part of her hoped that meant he was going to prove it. The other part just trembled in desire. His fingertips parted her, and his tongue slid inside, and she couldn’t think at all.
He seemed to know just how she needed him to nibble and suck, eating away at her decorum until she literally rode his face for more. When he paused and simply stroked her with his fingertips, she opened her mouth to complain, but he interrupted her.
“You’re not watching,” he said. “Keep your eyes open and watch the mirror or I’ll stop.”
“This isn’t a game,” she growled.
“It is, if we do it right. Watch the mirror.” His fingertips kept tracing the lightest touches, frustratingly close but not quite what or where she needed. “Tell me what you see?”
“You have got to be kidding me. He wants me to talk, now of all times?” She glared at her own reflection but didn’t try to escape his light hold on her legs.
“And don’t mumble.” She could feel his smile against her leg after he dropped a light kiss there.
The mirror was beginning to fog with the steam from the bath. “I see myself. My face is flushed…” As if to reward her, he took one long lick from the back of her slit to the front, stopping to toy at her entrance. “Oh, when you do that, my breath speeds up. I—”
He captured the bundle of nerves between his teeth, and his tongue flicked across her clit at what felt like hyper speed. She clutched at the sink, bending over it and resting her head on the faucet as she jerked. “Fuck,” she panted.
Then she spiraled over the edge, a low moan escaping her lips to echo against the porcelain. Tremors quaked inside her, and she couldn’t move. Couldn’t anything except experience the waves of electricity spiraling from her center out to her fingertips.
He stood, capturing her waist and lifting her as he turned to plant her ass on the cold stone sink top. Before she could say anything, he was devouring her mouth, his teeth scraping against her lips as he pressed against her.
She returned his embrace, practically melting into his arms before he lifted her again, carrying her into the steaming shower lined with stone. “Had to let it warm up in here,” he explained. “Didn’t want you to catch a chill. One sec, let me grab a condom.”
As he stepped out of the shower, she said, “I have a sudden appreciation for how you choose to pass the time when forced to wait.” In seconds, he returned with the protection.
She couldn’t get enough of his skin, kissing him and touching him, and he allowed it. When he grabbed his cock in his own hand to roll on the condom, she practically whimpered.
“You think that is hot enough?” he asked her, giving himself one long stroke.
“Hell yeah,” she muttered.
“I meant the water.” His slow smile rewarded her, though, as he reached for a bar of soap.
She took it from him, using the suds as an excuse to explore what seemed like miles of delicious male flesh. Once she began to rinse him, she decided to put that cock in her mouth, just to see if she could make him react as much as he affected her. He was hard, and she cupped the base of his cock as she worked to drive him even an iota as wild as he drove her.
He only lasted a second before he’d pulled her to her feet. “Naughty girl. I thought we agreed that I gave the orders around here.” But his hands shook, just a little, where he gripped her arms and his cheeks were flushed.
She smirked at him. “If you think that today is going to be the day that I begin to just listen to you without talking back…”
“Face the wall, Chels.”
Her laugh echoed in the shower, but she obeyed, planting her hands slightly above her head. “Like this?” she asked, spreading her legs a little.
“It’ll do, to start,” he agreed. Then he lifted her at the waist and drove himself deep into her center. His moan was nearly as loud as hers, and she hung there, trying to keep her purchase against the slick walls.
“Trust me, baby,” he whispered.
As he began to thrust into her body in a slow and mind-glazing way, she was happy to obey. The angle meant he wasn’t able to go deep, but he made up for it with speed. She was close.
So close.
But he stopped again, and she practically growled at him in frustration. “Don’t stop,” she ordered.
“You aren’t the boss,” he reminded her. He pulled her up so that her back lined up with his chest, his hands busily swapping between her breasts and the overly sensitized flesh between her legs. The water made his hands slide, and the heat had her rolling her head back to rest on his shoulder.
He took advantage of the position to taste her. “You’re so damn sweet. Can’t get enough of it.”
His words made her smile while his touch made her sigh. Without warning her, he turned her again, seating her on the stone bench in the shower. “What now?” she whispered.
“I didn’t want to slip,” he said. “And so I could do this.”
He tugged one of her legs over his arm and again slid inside her. She moaned as he managed to go deeper, hitting a spot which left her wriggling against him. “Shh,” he whispered. “Slowly.”
The pace he set was slow and steady, a teasing motion which only stoked the flames inside her, delaying the release that was so close. She slid one hand between them, hoping to ease the burning ache inside her, but he captured the wrist and held it above her head. “Not yet,” he explained. “Trust me.”
She wanted to protest—to claim she did trust him—but her words came out a keening cry as he suddenly changed the angle and sped up his pace. She used the leg he was holding for leverage, lifting her hips to meet him. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.
He was the scent around her, heightened by the water. He was the feel of flesh on flesh. He was her everything. When she tumbled over the edge, he was there to catch her. His arms holding her close as she trembled, his lips soothing her flesh, his heart thudding against her own.
“Good morning,” he whispered after a long while of holding her.
“Very good,” she answered.
…
Aiden
He couldn’t remember ever being in a better mood. A glance over his shoulder showed Waverley bent over a table model of the canyon. Chelsea was with her, pointing at something, and as if she felt his eyes on her, she looked up and met his gaze.
The smile withered off her face and was replaced by a hunger that matched his own. She blinked twice fast, quickly recovering and going back to her conversation with Waverley, but the day had been full of little moments like that.
As he returned to looking out at the Grand Canyon, he didn’t really see the view out the floor-to-ceiling windows. Instead, he wondered what a future with Chelsea in his life could be like. Clearly, she’d already bonded with his daughter, so he didn’t foresee any issues on that front. They’d figure it out between the three of them—find a way to fit into the roles none of them expected but
they all seemed to be made for anyway.
He and Chelsea already had a working relationship, so fitting her into that part of his life would be pretty simple, too. Sure, there’d be talk around the office for a while, but he knew of other people who’d become involved with coworkers. Some didn’t end well, but others…
Well, they did end well, and he knew it. He could easily imagine what previously had been heated debates in his office devolving into him kissing her until they both burned the edge off their frustration, then them going back to work smiling. They’d been together in that way for years, so finding a way to blend the new pleasurable side of their relationship into their preexisting work one shouldn’t prove complicated whatsoever in the long run.
But why was he considering the long run? He’d slept with a lot of women over the years and never before tried to think of ways to make the connection last. What made Chelsea different?
For starters, he figured it was because she wasn’t just a lover. She’d been his friend, the person by his side, more than any other over the years. She was the only person willing to put up with his bullshit and still stand up to him, even though he’d never admit he liked those traits. He couldn’t imagine a world without her in it or himself without her by his side.
Which was an overly romanticized notion and one he should discard quickly before it took root. He did lots of things without her by his side and probably would do a lot more in the future. He shouldn’t put a ton of weight on something that, as of right then, was nothing more than a one-night stand.
But therein lay the root of his problem. He wanted more than one night with her. Not only had he not nearly quelled the craving he seemed to have for her flesh, but he wanted mornings waking her with a kiss. He wanted evenings spent with her grumbling and him teasing her out of her grouchiness. He wanted walks with her when he was stressed and nights of her body curved against his in the darkness.
The Irish Prince (The Billionaire Dynasties) Page 9