His to Seduce

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His to Seduce Page 7

by Stacey Lynn


  “Thinking of that time isn’t easy for me,” I admitted. “She worked. All the time. Odd jobs, cleaning houses and office buildings; sometimes she worked at banks as a teller.” A flash of our rusted-out coffee can always filled with change appeared in my mind and I blinked the thought away. “She waited tables. Tended bar.”

  “I see.”

  He didn’t. Although I let him assume that was the reason I wouldn’t date a bartender.

  “Your parents?” I asked, desperate to get the topic off me. I’d told David too much already. He made me think before I spoke, and it was hard to hold everything in sometimes when all I wanted to do was purge it. “What’s your family like?”

  He laughed softly, shaking his head, and ran a hand through his hair.

  Looking at me, he grinned and dropped his hand to the towel. To the edge that was tucked in. “I’ll need to be in the pool for this.”

  I glanced away, his quiet laughter ringing out like a rock concert. “I can feel you blushing from here.”

  “Shut up,” I muttered. “Can you hand me my beer?”

  I needed something to cool me down. Knowing David was now naked, sliding into the water, the waves in the pool increasing as he pushed through them and in my direction, made my pulse jump.

  “Thank you,” I said when he got close enough for me to take the bottle from his hand. He took a seat next to me and draped his arm around the edge of the pool at my back. His hand went straight for my hair, tangling in it and playing with it. I stiffened for a moment until I remembered who was touching me. “Your family?”

  “Ah. Norman Rockwell at his finest.”

  “Really?” I could picture it. Clean-cut David in polo shirts and khaki shorts, clothes always neatly pressed and hair perfectly combed. The perfect family, holding hands in a green field or on their way to church. “What does your dad do?”

  “He worked an office job. Stuffy suit, large office, lots of windows and spreadsheets.”

  The past tense he used hit me immediately and I turned to him. We were inches from each other, close enough where I could lean in and kiss away the pain, clear from his eyes and the downturned shape of his lips. “I’m sorry.”

  He shrugged, but his smile was still sad. “Died when I was eighteen, Camden. We’re good now.”

  My mom had shown me one photo of my sperm donor holding me at the hospital. I was wrapped in the typical hospital-issued blanket and pink beanie. Even in the photo, he didn’t smile. There was no joy in his eyes or his expression about the fact that he’d had a kid. I didn’t know if he was upset about having a kid in general or if it was something about me he couldn’t stand. Mom told me he left the next day.

  I’d stared at the photo for an hour before I ripped it up and threw it in the trash. Now, I couldn’t even remember what he looked like, if I had any of his features. I hoped to hell I didn’t.

  “How?” I asked, curious about David’s dad.

  “Aneurysm at work. He was on the phone one second, on the floor the next, and gone before anyone knew what had happened.”

  “Wow.” I sighed and before I could stop myself, I pressed my hand to David’s cheek. My thumb brushed against the lines at the outer edges of his eye. “That must have been tough.”

  “It was. But we were all close. I was in college, my sister, Lindsay, already married. Mom had a hard time with it, but life moves on, you know? I had almost twenty good years with the man. Mom had thirty. We have a lot of good memories.”

  He had a sister. Married. A mom. He talked about his family like they were all close.

  I envied him in a way that I hadn’t any of my friends who grew up in similar families.

  “What are they like?” I asked, and his grin widened.

  “Lindsay’s a pain in my ass. She’s seven years older than me and thinks she’s smarter. She stays home with her two kids, Grant Jr. and Leia. They’re five and three, and even bigger pains in the butt than she is. Her husband works for the same company my dad did.”

  Nothing but fondness shone in his voice. I elbowed him in the side and he looked down at me. “What?”

  “You’re an uncle.”

  He guffawed. “Hell yeah. I kick ass as an uncle. I’m their favorite, actually.” He took a sip of his beer and set it down, then rubbed his jaw. “Actually, I’m their only uncle, but that’s not the point.”

  “Of course not.”

  “Those kids are hellions. Lindsay’s loud and obnoxious and doesn’t hesitate to share her opinion. She’s up in everyone’s business, and her kids are the same way.”

  “You like it.”

  “It’s a pain in my ass, but yeah, she’s cool. Her husband, Grant, is this quiet, go-with-the-flow kinda guy. I used to think she’d be too much for him, but they work.”

  It sounded heavenly. Something I’d never experienced. Something I hadn’t even always been sure I wanted to experience.

  “You know,” he said, his voice deepening, “as much as I’m loving thinking about my sister and her husband while we’re naked in a pool together, I think there’s something else I’d rather be doing.”

  If my skin could incinerate, it did when his hand slid around the back of my shoulders, gliding gently up my neck.

  “Yeah? What’s that?”

  His hand at my neck tightened and he pulled me toward him.

  His head dipped, blue eyes dark, heated with desire. Lips full and wet, as if he’d just licked them.

  “This,” he whispered, right before he pressed his lips to mine.

  Chapter 10

  Camden

  He tasted like beer and mint, as if he’d brushed his teeth before joining me in the pool. I accepted his soft, tender kiss before leaning in and enjoying it. My hand went to his cheek, twisting until I was facing him.

  His hand slid to my lower back, his fingers pressed against my backside.

  A quiver ran down my spine, beneath his touch that was always so gentle, so patient. Willing to stop at any time if I said the word, and yet firm and wanting me not to. It made me want more of him.

  I lifted onto my knees, throwing one over his lap. His hands slid up my back and to my neck, holding me still while he deepened the kiss. I settled back until I was on his thighs. He groaned into my mouth when I slid against the hardest part of him, thick and ready, and pressed against my center, creating a delicious friction.

  “Camden,” he gasped and pulled back, holding me millimeters from those kisses I was growing to like so much. “I don’t have a condom with me.”

  I reached between us and gripped him, watching his eyes roll back with pleasure at my touch. Filled with bravado I normally lacked, I slid my hand along his length and ran my thumb over his tip.

  “So good,” he groaned, and dropped his head to my shoulder. I smiled. Whenever I turned him on, he leaned toward me instead of pushing away. Like he couldn’t get close enough. “Keep going. Harder.”

  My heart fluttered wildly inside my chest. I was doing this to him. Me. Camden. His pleasured gasps as he looked down at the water, his gaze fixed on where I worked him, filled me with confidence I sorely lacked when it came to men.

  I forced my next words out through a dry throat, wanting something I’d never wanted before.

  “David,” I whispered, tilting my head so my lips pressed near his ear. “I want to taste you.”

  I sucked my cheek into my teeth and nibbled as he groaned again. “Fuck, yes.”

  “Sit on the edge.” Who was this woman that could be so demanding? I’d never seen her before. The words were mine; the voice was mine.

  He shifted back. He must have caught the nervousness in my voice because his gazed roamed my face, seeking and searching before he leaned in and brushed his lips against mine. Tenderly. His kiss was slow and tempting; it made me feel drugged when he pulled back, and I followed him, seeking more.

  His hand came down between us, wrapped around mine, and stilled my movements. “You sure?”

  I nodded, nibbling on m
y upper lip so harshly it stung with pain.

  He shifted then, gently lifting my hips until he could push himself out of the pool. The muscles in his arms bunched and flexed from the movement, water droplets sliding down the ridge beneath his abs. And then he was there…all of him…right in front of me.

  I gulped and met his gaze as my hands went to his thighs and I moved in closer. I couldn’t take my eyes off his.

  My fingers grazed his skin, cool and wet from the water, the coarse hair tickling me.

  I licked my lips and dropped my eyes to his length, standing bold and at attention, waiting for me. Leaning forward, I cupped him and slowly ran a fingertip up his hardness.

  “I…um…” I swallowed my fear and my nerves, forcing myself to look up at him. My hand wrapped around him and saliva pooled in my mouth at the thought of what I was about to do. What I wanted to do. I needed to make it good for him. “I’ve never done this.”

  Heat suffused my cheeks, traveling until my ears and chest burned.

  Above me, David’s smile stretched into an understanding yet surprised grin. “You haven’t?”

  I shook my head. “Can you tell me what you like?”

  With tenderness, he slowly pushed back my wet hair, tucking it behind my ear. His finger trailed down the length of my jaw. The nerves inside me flickered into something hotter and more desirable than before.

  “You don’t have to do this.”

  “I want to. I just want to make sure it’s good for you.”

  He laughed in a way I knew he wasn’t laughing at me. He pressed his fingertips to my chin, tilted my head back, and leaned forward. “I’ll like anything you do to me, Camden. Go as deep as you’re comfortable. Focus on the tip, but I swear to you, you get your mouth on me and I’ll like it.”

  “Okay.” The word fell from my lips like razor blades. My heart rioted inside my chest, a mixture of overwhelming desire and fear banging together until the sounds of the ocean evaporated and all I heard was the roar of my own heartbeat.

  Leaning forward, I licked him, keeping my eyes open and up so I could watch him, wanting to see his expression.

  Timidly, I wrapped my lips around him. He kept his hand at the side of my head, letting me lead, brushing his fingers through my hair. His eyes went half-lidded and his head fell forward as he groaned. “Good. That’s good, Camden.”

  His hips began to shift, pushing up and toward me as I took him deeper. His enjoyment spurred me forward until my hand wrapped around his base and I figured out a movement, working him with my hand and my mouth. My other hand went to his balls, and I rolled them in my fingers.

  He groaned, the sound animalistic and music to my ears.

  God. I was doing this. Taking him to the edge with my mouth and my hand, and I wasn’t terrified. He tasted like salt water and coolness, felt like steel covered in satin, and I began moving faster, sliding up and down his shaft, swirling my tongue around his tip and underneath.

  “Fuck,” he groaned, pressing his fingertips harshly against my scalp.

  He swelled in my mouth, and his hips shifted faster.

  “Camden,” he warned, “I’m going to come soon.”

  I held him more firmly, the acknowledgment spurring me on until he covered my hand with his and his other hand dropped to my shoulder, pushing me back.

  I popped off him and frowned. “What?”

  “Get out,” he demanded. And for a moment, I wondered what I’d done wrong. Had I used my teeth by accident?

  “What?” I asked again, embarrassment beginning to bubble inside me.

  He pushed himself out of the pool and leaned down, squatting as his hands went to my armpits. “I don’t want to come in your mouth. I want to be deep inside you.”

  “Oh.” Ohhh.

  I stood and he picked me up, pulling me the rest of the way out of the pool.

  When he had me in his arms, he didn’t set me down, but shifted so his hands were at my ass. Our wet, chilled skin pressed together.

  “So you liked it?” I asked, tasting the hesitancy on my tongue.

  He laughed, the sound warm and deep in my ear. “Yes. You’re a natural, and someday I’ll let you take me to the end, but tonight I want your body beneath mine.”

  We reached his room and he bent down, placing me on the bed. Naked, the light glimmering in through the opened windows, there wasn’t a hint of hesitation inside of me as David walked to the edge of the bed and pulled out a condom from a fresh box on his nightstand.

  Unable to take my eyes off him, I focused on every movement he made until he’d sheathed himself and then climbed into the bed.

  I slid backward until I was in the middle of the bed, David following every movement of mine until our bodies were aligned. Hip to hip, his chest brushed against mine as he dropped to one elbow. His other hand slid between us, over the curves of my breasts and lower, until his fingers were at my center, rubbing me in a way that was absolutely tantalizing.

  I arched into him, breathing his name, unashamed at my neediness or the way he made me feel until he pressed against me, and then slid inside me.

  My back arched at the sensation, so thick and perfect as he slowly began to work himself.

  “David,” I gasped.

  His head fell forward, and drops of water from his wet hair sprinkled onto my chest and made me shiver. He moved quicker, his desire apparent in the way his hips jerked at an increasingly rapid pace.

  I wrapped my ankles around him, pulling my knees up high so he could go deeper, hitting the end of me with every forceful thrust until I could do nothing but claw at his shoulders, press my head into the mattress, and cry out his name as my climax hit fast and hard, seemingly lasting forever until David’s weight collapsed against mine and his own orgasm took him over the edge.

  “It’s always so good with you, Camden,” his whispered, trailing kisses along my collarbone until his tongue slid against my lips.

  I opened to him immediately, greedy for more of him.

  And when we’d cleaned off, he nestled us together into the bed, my chest to his side, my head on his shoulder. I fell asleep before I could question why it was David, what it was about him, that made me feel cherished and safe in a way I’d never experienced before.

  —

  The quiet pattering of raindrops hitting the roof of the bungalow and windows pulled me from sleep in the morning.

  I roused, stretching my limbs, only to slide my hand across David’s bare chest and stomach.

  Peeking an eye open, I found myself still next to him, waking exactly how I’d fallen asleep. My cheek to his shoulder, my lips near his chest, my arm and one leg draped over his body. At my back, the heat of his hand held me tight to him. I tilted my chin up to see if he was awake, but his eyes were still closed, his lips slightly parted.

  His chest rose and dipped in that soothing, quiet rhythm of someone deep asleep.

  Unwilling to wake him, liking the fact that waking up next to David for the second day in a row didn’t bring on a rush of embarrassment or fear, I peered out the window and watched the rain continue to fall, hard enough to ruin any thoughts of outside fun. Heavy enough to make me nostalgic, reminding me of summer storms that made me curl up with a blanket and a book, doing nothing but reading my current favorite novel.

  In less than forty-eight hours, David had begun changing my perspective of him. He was a man who laughed easily. I doubted he’d ever passed on a dare in his life. He carried himself with a quiet confidence, a saunter when he moved that said he knew the kind of man he was, knew who he wasn’t, and he wouldn’t be swayed to be someone else. He was perfectly comfortable in his skin…clothed or unclothed…and he was loyal. Like me, he still had the same friends he’d had since college, but they weren’t just people he talked about; they were men he’d dropped everything for in order to move closer and help out when needed.

  After he’d flirted and teased me and made his attraction to me obvious for the last five months, I was beginning to thi
nk I’d pushed him away for all the wrong reasons.

  That maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t just a bartender who would pick up and leave at any moment.

  Perhaps he was the kind of man who didn’t just stick around when things got hard, but threw himself into a storm to help those he cared about.

  The concept was so foreign to me, I couldn’t grasp it.

  I had the weekend with him, one more night to enjoy him before our flights returned us to Detroit in just over twenty-four hours. I had one more day to get to know him, to try my damnedest to get past the memory of change clanking in a server’s apron tied around his waist. To get over anything that could possibly hold me back from allowing him to pursue me when we returned home.

  Eventually, he stirred beneath me. His hand at my back drifted up my spine and down to my hip. His breath quickened, and I tilted my head up again to this time greet his sleepy, half-lidded blue eyes.

  “Good morning,” I whispered, smiling softly.

  “How long have you been awake?”

  “Not long.” I turned back to the window, taking the moment to relish the feel of his skin beneath my palm, the pitter-patter of raindrops, and the hint of sun that seemed determined to peek through the clouds. “I was watching it rain.”

  He adjusted beneath me, turning to look out the window. The scruff on his jaw scraped against the top of my head as he moved.

  “Seems like the perfect day to stay in bed all day.”

  I laughed against his chest, brushing my lips against his firm, muscled skin. He tensed from my soft movements, and I pulled back.

  “I was thinking of when I was kid,” I admitted, forcing myself to open up. It wasn’t easy. Oftentimes, memories weren’t a good thing.

  His hand on my back continued gliding up and down my spine, until he settled on my hip. Like he knew exactly where to touch me to make me tense, his fingertips grazed my scar. I froze as he ran his finger along the length of it and lost my previous thought until he asked, “What were you thinking about?”

  I blinked rapidly, unsure if my vision went blurry from the rain at the windows muddling my sight or if it was from tears.

 

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