by Imani King
She pulls away and puts her hands on my forearms. I’m still gripping her by the waist, and for a moment, I feel like we’re trapped in time. I want to stay like this, because here, there are no expectations put upon us. Here, there’s no mention of the distance between our homes, the distance between our lives. As the people file out past us, there’s only her and me. My hand slips lower and rests on the curved shelf of her ass. I want to let it travel lower still, but I think that particular activity might be frowned upon.
“Rowan, I--“ She stops before she starts protesting at me. I can tell that she’s going to say we can’t do something, or that the kiss was too much, not appropriate. But here we are still, and she’s saying nothing else. So I kiss her again, covering her lips with mine, tracing my fingers over the soft, tender skin of her neck. Gooseflesh forms behind my fingers as they move over her skin. Star and her husband wave to us as they leave, and I barely notice them pass by us. The caterers are the only people left, and I’m vaguely aware that they’re cleaning up my event and leaving too, one by one.
“Let me take you home, city girl. I want to show you just how good I think you look.” Her eyelashes flutter, and everything about her expression is girlish and alluring. In my younger days, I would have taken her outside and pushed her up against the car. Maybe I’d kneel down and lift her skirt so I could taste her. Or maybe I’d part her legs and take her against the car until she was begging for me to let her come. But we’re adults now, and I’m planning to take her back home and keep her up all damn night.
As the thoughts of what I’m planning to do to this woman form in my head, she grabs me and pulls me outside. Even as I’m thinking about taking it slow, she’s got her hands trailing up my suit jacket, and she’s feeling me up like we’re teenagers after prom. That’s when I lift her, wrapping her legs around my waist and haul her out to the car while she giggles the whole way.
“You’re tipsy,” I whisper.
“And you’re so damn fine I can’t stand it.” She leans in and kisses me, and I push her against the car.
“I can hardly control myself around you, girl.” I move my lips over her neck, taking in the slight scent of champagne and the sweet, mild perfume she’s wearing. She wraps her legs tighter around me, and blood rushes to my cock. It strains against the fabric of my pants. I look around to see that the other cars have left the parking lot. I lean in and whisper into her ear. I’m half tempted to pull down those panties and fuck you right here. But you’re a lady, and I’m going to take you home and fuck you in bed.”
She moans and moves her body against mine, the fabric of her dress crinkling, pressing against my cock. Without thinking any more, I open the passenger seat of the car door and put her inside.
And I drive faster back over the mountain toward home than any man in his right mind should. But I’m not in my right mind, and both Cadence and I know that all too well.
CHAPTER NINE
When we get back to the ranch, Rowan hoists me out of the car and carries me up the stairs. My body is already pulsing with want for him, even though the two of us barely know each other. Despite my past, my history, my losses... I want this man more than anything I've ever wanted. All night long, I've wanted to open my mouth to protest again, to tell him what an awful idea this all is.
He doesn't know me. He doesn't know me. He shouldn't want to.
The desire for him threatens to take me over, to drain all of the sense out of my body and drive me towards him indefinitely. But if I don’t say something ow, it feels like we’ll both fall into this abyss, blinded by lust and the stultifying need to banish our past.
“You don’t know me from Adam,” I breathe. He pushes me against the door to my room, the blue guest suite I’ve come to think of as my own. Maybe it was obvious when I opted to stay here after the guest house got electricity back, but hell, I like the painting. And I have all my stuff here. And Rowan Corbett lives in this house, and let’s be honest. I’ve longed for this since the moment I laid eyes on that man.
“Who’s Adam?” He grins when he says it and kisses my neck right below my ear. A shiver runs down my spine and sends heat straight to my belly. We’ve only shared one kiss and ten days of time between us, and here I am going as crazy as a schoolgirl over this man I barely know. This man who doesn’t know me at all.
“You know what I mean. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea—”
“What idea is that?” His voice is raw and husky, and it vibrates against my skin. Underneath the raw silk dress, my nipples stiffen, taut and hard as beads. Heat creeps over my skin, threatening to cloud my judgment, threatening to take me over. “The idea that I want to fuck you? Or more specifically, the idea that I want to make you come? Because if that’s the wrong idea, it’s one I’ve had since the first minute you arrived in this house. And nothing feels wrong about it.”
“Oh God,” I whisper. “Rowan—I just want to warn you—” He’s still kissing the hollow of my neck, and then he sticks out his warm tongue and licks me there, breathing deeply and pushing his body against mine. The heat and hardness of his cock meets my leg, and I gasp. I can’t breathe for a second, and my sex begins to throb in response.
“Warn me of what? What on earth could possibly make me not want you right now? I can’t think of a damn thing. You’re crazy? I don’t care. Some kind of hired criminal from New York? Not an artist at all? I have no issue with that.” He moves a hand to my breast and circles my nipple with his thumb, the silken fabric exquisite against my skin.
“I’m no good with relationships—I’m no good with men—” I stutter over the words, force them out. There’s way more than that.
“Oh? What was that, Cadence? I give absolutely zero fucks whether or not you’re good with men, whatever that’s supposed to mean.” He kisses me, more insistent than he was back at the fundraiser, his mouth somehow hotter and more searching. He pulls away and puts his hand to the doorknob of the blue guest suite.
“Really, I--“ Before I can say another word, he picks me up and pushes the door to my room open. My shoes fall off and clatter against the floor. His arms make me feel light and airy, and the blue dress makes me feel sort of like a princess, and I haven’t felt that way in a long time. He deftly places me on the ground before the bed and lifts the back of my dress, resting his hands on my ass.
“Really, this ass is so perfect, I want to take a bite out of it. It’s fucking mesmerizing.” He pulls the lacy boyshorts I have on down to the floor and pulls his jacket off, tossing it to the floor alongside my panties.
“Rowan, you’re not listening.”
“My God, woman. The only way you’ll make me stop is to tell me, ‘Rowan, please leave my room now and forget about making me come. Repeatedly. Again and again. All fucking night long.’ Is that something you want to tell me?” I stare at him and shake my head, my voice failing me. The electricity zapping through my body tells me that I want him to stay, that my body *needs this, wants this, deserves it. “Good, then. Take off that damn dress and let me look at you.”
I purse my lips together. “I’ve never—the lights are on and—usually—”
“Take off the dress.” His words come out as a command, and something about his tone sends an even brighter spark through my core, and a slick wetness starts to grow between my thighs. Rowan steps toward me and takes me by the waist, then pulls the zipper at my back down rapidly. “There now, Cadence. I think you’ll find it’s easy to slip off. And I know you’re not wearing a bra under there, are you?”
“I’m not.” I choke the words out. As scared as I am, my desire outweighs everything. I step out of the dress, and all at once, I’m standing naked in front of the man who’s occupied most every waking moment of my thoughts for the past ten days. I kick the dress aside, and he doesn’t bat an eye. He paid for it, but money is like water to this man. And he doesn’t give a damn if something wrinkles.
“Good goddamn, woman.” He gets to his knees, and I look at him in pur
e confusion. He’s tugging off his shirt, so impatient that the last button pops off and skitters across the floor. “You’re as perfect as a fucking Michelangelo. Like you were created from the finest marble, the most perfect clay.”
He traces his fingers over my hips, and I suck in a sharp breath, the shock of his warm fingers jolting me straight to my center.
“I’m just--I haven’t done this in a long time--not without--“ He puts up a hand to stop me and squeezes my ass, kneading it with his strong, firm hands. He’s still kneeling in front of me, his shirt cast to the side, his muscles just like he said of me--like they were made to order, carved to the perfection I’ve always imagined. He’s still wearing his tux pants, and something about that is unbearably sexy.
“Me either,” he says, still caressing my skin, drinking me in with his eyes. “But that doesn’t mean we need to talk about it, now does it? That’s a sad thing--two very attractive people like us not getting what they need. Let’s not dwell on what other people have done to us. Let’s just dwell on what we can do to each other tonight.” The laughter bubbles up inside of me, like it always does with Rowan, and I throw my head back, the joy coursing through me. This--this night, the gala, Rowan kneeling before me and worshipping me with his hands--it feels almost excessive, like it should be forbidden.
But hell, it’s the holidays. Time for overindulgence.
Like he’s reading my mind, he pulls me in closer, and his breath his hot against my sex. “Let me see if you taste as good as you look. And my God, woman, I bet to sweet Jesus you do. His words send a shiver through my body. He draws me to him and buries his mouth against my aching, pulsing pussy. All night--hell, all *week--I’ve thought of nothing but this. His mouth on me, his cock, pushing inside of me, taking me and making me feel like real, whole woman again. His tongue seeks out my clit and circles it, and I let out a long, throaty moan.
That’s the thing about not being in an apartment with paper-thin walls. I can fuck as loud as I want, and no one’s going to come knocking at the door, asking me to quiet down. I thread my fingers through his thick, wavy hair. I feel like I might fall as he starts sucking gently on my clit, moaning against me and sending vibrations to my core. Wetness floods my pussy, evidence that this is right, this is what I wanted, and arousal courses through every cell in my body, its epicenter focused on Rowan’s hot, searching tongue.
“Fuck,” I whisper, “Holy fucking hell.” I’m drunk on my own lust, pulling on Rowan’s hair as he moans deeply, the sounds louder and louder. This man knows exactly how to eat pussy, and he’s licking and sucking, running his tongue up and down the tender line of my slit like he was born to do it, like it’s a need that has risen in his blood and begs to be fulfilled. Rowan pushes me against the bed, resting my ass on the edge of the coverlet so he can bury his face between my legs. My eyes almost cross in pleasure, and I cast one leg over his shoulder, welcoming him, opening to him like I never have with any man, ever before. From what feels like a far off distance, I hear Rowan unbuckling himself, his pants falling to his knees. I feel a tremendous groan against my pussy, and he sucks my clit into his mouth hard, gently nibbling on it. I hear him stroking himself, and his face starts shaking against my clit.
Just as I start to come, Rowan stands and steps out of the tux pants. He undoes a foil wrapper with his teeth and slips a condom onto his waiting cock--and my holy hell, he’s big. Before I have time to stammer out an awkward comment, he’s pushing me back on the bed and pressing the head of his massive cock against the entrance to my pussy. Bringing his hand to my clit again, he circles his thumb over my clit as he presses his cock against me. My brain tips into oblivion, a starving need takes me over.
“This is—this is—oh God—” I stumble over the words as Rowan continues tracing his thumb over the sensitive button, bringing me closer and closer to the edge and then pulling his thumb away just as my body begins to shake and shudder.
“Just the beginning, pretty lady.” He moves his hands up to my body again and grabs me by the waist, his touch gentle and sure. He moves his hands over the expanse of my waist and up to my breasts, still holding his cock at the opening of my slippery cleft. “I’m just making sure you’re enjoying yourself here. You are, aren’t you?” His dark, rumbling sounds country as hell, and it makes me smile and sends chills and gooseflesh over my entire body. He pushes further inside and closes his eyes, holding himself inside of me for a long moment.
“I am... just... just fuck me.” Rowan laughs and thrusts his full length inside all at once. It’s been so long that Rowan takes my breath away completely when he fills me up. My body fills with heat, and I throw my arms around his neck with abandon, welcoming him, throwing caution to the wind. He leans in close and covers my mouth with his, his full lips hot and surprisingly soft for a man in the throes of lust.
“You’ve got a dirty mouth for someone so pretty,” he whispers, and I find my cheeks turning hot even as he begins to thrust and pump inside of me, his body grinding against my clit and sending jolts of supercharged energy through every cell in my body. “I like it. Such a sweet city girl, with a pussy so tight she might drain me dry.”
My cheeks turn blazing hot at his words, but I’m so giddy, my body taking me higher and higher until I’m riding a wave of pure bliss. Rowan’s movements are slow and steady, and I wrap my legs around him to bring him closer into me. My breath hitches in my throat, and he starts riding me harder, each movement bringing me closer and closer to the edge. I close my eyes, and the sparks begin to rise in my body.
“Rowan, Rowan, oh fuck, Rowan,” I whisper. I’m babbling now, saying his name again and again. My conscious mind is gone, and there’s no telling what might come out of my mouth. “Fuck me, Rowan. Make me come. Please make me come.”
“Cadence, sweet girl. Come on my cock, sweetheart. I want to feel you come on me. I feel how wet you are baby, and I want to feel that pussy do what I want it to. Come on baby.”
“Oh shit,” I moan. Rowan’s movements are tightly controlled, and every thrust fills me entirely. Shivers expand over my body, and he’s got me right at the brink. My body starts to rise to another plane of being, and the coil inside of me tightens and tightens until it releases all at once, and my pussy is swelling against his cock, and I’m letting go, my mind tipping into complete blankness, until all I see is fireworks and all I feel is electricity coursing through my veins.
“So sweet, baby girl. So tight. That’s such a good girl, coming like I asked you to. Goddamn, woman.” Just as my climax starts to fade from the shores of my consciousness, just as I start to come back to my reality, Rowan pulls out and flips me on my stomach, raising my ass in the air and thrusting hard into my pussy. Grabbing my hips, he drives himself into me again and again, his cock rock hard, his breath coming faster and faster. “You’re going to make me come, sweetheart, with that sweet, perfect pussy of yours.”
He his cock swells and his muscles tense against my hips, and finally, he lets go, shuddering as he comes deep inside of me. He falls against me and pulls me down onto the bed. I’m still reeling with it--sleeping with a man I’ve only just met, reaching heights of pleasure I’ve never achieved before, and feeling so much more than I ever thought I would after Eli and all the losses I’ve experienced. I close my eyes, falling into the tangle of my thoughts again. Rowan reaches out and runs his strong fingers over the sensitive flesh of my neck. His touch should bring me back to myself, but somehow, it doesn’t. My mind is swirling with doubt, and it doesn’t have anything to do with Rowan.
No. In another life, if I’d met him at any other time, he’d be perfect. But I’m a broken woman. My body literally doesn’t work how it’s supposed to. And from the way I’ve seen Rowan smile at the children at the center, and hell, the way he is with Eliza, I know he wants kids. Even if he doesn’t say it, it’s written all over his face.
This can be a fling, but it can’t be anything else.
“What are you thinking, beautiful girl? You
were so gorgeous tonight... it was like watching an angel waltz through the most beautiful thing I’ve ever built in my life. All the money, all the oil, it doesn’t mean a thing compared to Coming Home. And you—” Tears are starting in my eyes, and he doesn’t see them. All of this, it’s all happening so fast. I roll over and pull one of the pillows over my breasts. There’s something that feels wrong about all of this, when moments ago, it felt so perfect, so right. My mind is taking my body back as its property, gaining control again.