by Paige North
He runs his fingers down my breast yearningly. “That’s why I can’t get enough of you, Nova. You have no idea what you do to me.”
He says it as if he hates that I make him this way, and I don’t know how to respond. I only rest my hands on his belt, also not knowing how to ask for him to kiss me again. As I grow more agitated by his fingers playing with my nipple, I dig my fingers into his pants. He sucks in a breath.
“Do it,” he whispers roughly. “Fucking do what you’re thinking of doing.”
I know what he wants, and I tentatively slip my hand out of his waistband and downward, over his trousers, until I feel the bulge beneath his fly. As I cup him, my sex palpitates with excitement.
“Tell me what you should do next,” he says in a strangled voice. “Or do you need me to instruct you?”
I blush fiercely, too embarrassed to go on.
“Come on, Nova,” he says. “I want to hear you say it to me.”
I take a serrated breath, still looking up at him, seeing the blazing desire in his eyes. He wants it so badly, and I have the power to give it to him. Me, someone who’s been so powerless all her life.
On a sudden wave of confidence, I caress his cock again, and he closes his eyes, clenches his jaw, his arms flexing as he tightens his grip on the bookcase above me.
“Tell me what you’re going to do to me,” he repeats.
“I’m going to stroke you.” Once the words are out, they seem the most natural, dirty things imaginable, and I like it.
I love it.
I feel a rumble in his chest, and it seems to vibrate through my skin as I begin to massage him. He reaches down and wraps his fingers around my wrist.
“And what comes after that?” he asks between his teeth. He’s watching me now, his gaze scorching me.
“I’m going to take you out of your pants.”
Even though I’m more confident, my pulse is still ragged, my fingers shaking as I undo his fly.
“Then what?” he says.
I don’t know. Does he want me to stroke him off again? But I can see in his dark, lust-filled gaze that he wants something else.
Oh god, he wants…that. The thought of doing it to him shoots me through with adrenaline.
“I’ve never given a…” I hesitate, then say it. “Blow job.”
“Good. Then I can train you how to do it right.”
He reaches up to brush his knuckles over my cheek, and I inhale deeply, then exhale as I turn to his hand. I feel my moist breath on his skin, and I kiss his fingers.
“Nova.” His other hand is busy taking his cock out of his trousers. “What do you want to do now?”
I look down to find him hard already, and my pussy craves the feel of him sliding into me. My sex pulsates, anticipating him.
As I sink to my knees, I ease my fingers down his thigh with one hand, taking his length into my palm with the other. I know what I want to do, and blood dances through me as I lick his tip, laving off his pre-cum.
“Shit,” he mutters, leaning toward the bookcase where his hand is still braced. He loosely cups his other one to the back of my head.
The controlled hunger in his voice heats me, my heart pumping.
Looking up at him, I stroke his shaft. I don’t know what turns him on more—how I’m locking gazes with him or how I’m touching him.
“Now,” he groans, “take me in your mouth, Nova. Goddammit, now.”
I hope I do this right.
As I take his cock in, I swirl my tongue around him, thinking of how I would savor a sticky lollipop. His fingers tighten in my hair.
“Like that,” he murmurs. “Fucking just like that…”
So I keep doing it, swirling and licking while my temperature heats up even higher, spiking between my legs, making my clit ache so, so brutally. When I come up for air, I stroke his shaft some more, and he seems to like what I’m doing because he’s harder than ever, like iron.
I reach for the base of him, and when I brush over his balls, he shifts. I think he’s coming, and I take him back into my mouth without thinking. I skim my fingers over his sac again, then once more, and he jerks, coming into my mouth, his juices warm as I swallow them up.
With a primal growl, he sweeps me off the floor, and after the room spins in front of me, I find myself in a cushiony leather chair. Travis’s hands are under my dress, his gaze wild and bright with intensity as he pulls down my panties.
My breaths are little gusts of air, my pulse chopping as he drags the silk over my calves, my ankles, then tosses it away. He pushes my skirt up to my belly, exposing my pussy, and he looks at it as if he’s going to devour me.
That’s what he is going to do, isn’t it?
Embarrassment swamps me, and I cover myself. He brings his famished gaze up to mine, and a surge of lust zings between us.
“Believe me,” he says, “you want this, Nova. Let me do to you what you did to me.”
“But…”
Once again my innocence obviously charges him up, and he hooks my legs over his shoulders. I slide down into the chair, opened to him. My dress is up to my belly, blocking part of my view, but not all of it. I see how my parted legs make my folds separate, revealing a wet, pink part of me to him. His appetite only seems to grow as he looks at my pussy, then back up at me. His hazy gaze gets me even hotter.
“Please,” I whisper.
Eager now, I spread my legs a little more, inviting him to kiss me in a place I’ve never been kissed.
He lifts my hips, and when he runs his tongue up through my folds I arch and mewl, holding onto the armrests of the chair.
“Sweet,” he says. “You’re so sweet that I could eat you all night.”
His nasty words spiral into me like a spinning pinwheel with edges, pushing open the beginning of my climax even more.
He teases my lips with more licks, then sucks one of them into his mouth. At the same time, he leisurely trails his fingers down and up my inner thigh. The double-whammy sensation gets my clit stiff, and I rock my hips against him.
“So impatient to come for me. You’re going to come hard. Just relax and let it happen.”
Relax, relax, always just relax. But how can I when heat is whirling through me, making me restless and expanding inside me like a shiny hothouse flower blooming in my center?
He gives me a long, wet kiss between my legs, sucking, using both hands to stroke the insides of my thighs now, and I shift even more restively. He adjusts my legs over his shoulders again, deepening the kiss, running his tongue around my clit.
“Oh,” I moan. “Fuck.”
He adds his fingers to the carnal mix, playing with my folds. His mouth works my clit faster, and it’s as if my vision and consciousness all get sucked into the same vortex, spinning around in the air. The pressure inside me joins the chaos, whipping around, rising as he keeps kissing me, loving me and—
Oh god. Oh god, I’m coming so fucking hard and I can’t think straight.
I’m too weak to think about how incredible the orgasm felt as he scoops me into his arms. My body is limp as he brings me to my room and slips me onto my bed, then slides off my shoes, my dress, my bra. He pulls back the blankets and guides me beneath the sheets. As I close my eyes, I hear him taking off his clothes, and then he joins me.
Isn’t he going to leave this time?
It doesn’t seem that way as he pulls me to him, my sweat-slicked chest to his as we breathe together. I’m still wet for him as he eases his hand between my legs. His touch feels possessive, as if he’s claiming me and soothing me all at once, but as I nestle against him, all I really feel is the warmth that my afterglow has left behind.
All I know is that he’s still here with me, and I hold him just as possessively as he’s holding me.
Chapter 16
I’ve heard that males—even ones as sexually voracious as Travis—need some down time between climaxes, and after we’ve lain in bed together for a time, he recovers from the blowjob I gave him
in the library. Then, bringing my leg over his hip, he lazily fills me, then fucks me thrust by sweet thrust. Deep inside my core, I climb higher and higher once again. I’m suspended above the clouds, above everything until I seem to swoop down, through the haze, diving into oblivion until I hit a sheet of glass and it shatters into a million pieces.
My latest orgasm brings me to yet another afterglow with Travis still in my bed, both of us in no hurry to go anywhere.
He’s playing with my hair as we face one another in the moonlit night. The surface of my skin is warm and sensitive, as if I’ve come in from hours of lying in the sunlight with no clothes on my body. I’m bare to him, all his once again.
I work up the courage to brush my fingertips over his firm chin, feeling a hint of stubble. There’s a slight burn on my cheeks from where he kissed me, a sexy, hot layer of friction on my inner thighs, too. When I bring my fingers to his lips, he sucks one of them in, then lightly bites it.
I laugh, pulling out of him. He laughs quietly, too. Then he hauls me to him as he rolls to his back. I relax with my head on his hard chest, one of my hands resting on his flat, toned stomach.
This has to be a fantasy, I think. But he still seems in no hurry to ruin it by leaving.
He doesn’t even make a move when his phone sounds off from his pile of clothing on the floor.
“You…don’t need to get that?” I ask warily.
“It’s just an update from my security team. I recognize their ringtone, and it’s time for them to check in anyway.”
“In the dead of night?”
“I don’t keep normal hours.”
But I already knew that. Travis isn’t like anyone I’ve ever met before times a thousand.
He curls a strand of my hair around his finger. “I asked for an update at this hour, and they’re right on schedule.”
“Update on what?”
I know I’m pushing it by asking him, but I want to hear about his life, his business.
“There’ve been a series of robberies,” he finally says. “And they involve my various jewelry stores all around the world.”
A muffled sense of shock has me holding my tongue. He’s actually going to trust me enough to talk to me like a real person, a real girlfriend.
I remind myself that I’m not anything but a safe business transaction to him, but it’s hard not to want more. Hard not to feel more in this moment of intimacy.
He goes on, his tone dry. “It seems my business is being targeted by some sort of criminal operation.”
“Why would they target your business?”
“My stores make the most money, so I’ve clearly attracted the best of the best even when it comes to criminals, and believe me, these assholes are good at covering their tracks. Hence the updates from my security team.” He strokes the curve of my bottom. “Needless to say, I’ve been under a tremendous amount of stress, and that’s why I’ve been somewhat distracted lately.”
My leg is still nestled between the two of his, and I push my body up so that I’m balanced on my forearm, looking down at him in the moonlight. My hair spills down to brush over his shoulder as he gazes up at me. Some kind of understanding flows between us, testing that connection that’s sometimes there, sometimes not.
It holds us together now, at least.
“I understand that your business has to come before pleasure,” I say.
He only keeps looking at me, and emotion rises in my chest. Before I can stop my next words, they tumble out.
“But if anyone can catch these assholes, it’s you, Travis.”
His smile is wry. “Your faith in me is sweet,” he says.
“I’m serious.” I slip my foot up between his knees, sliding my pussy against his hip without thinking about it. “You’re a superhero, remember?”
The man who came to my rescue today. A man who obviously doesn’t have even an inkling of how much that means to me and will always mean.
I see heat in his gaze, and, instinctively, I rub my pussy against him again. My clit responds to the friction, and I start to go damp.
“I’m going to do better with you,” he whispers in a throttled tone. “I’m going to be here as much as I possibly fucking can.”
Slowly, he runs his hand up my hip, over my waist, until he cups my breast. He arouses my nipple with his thumb, and I can see past the burning need in his gaze to something lost inside of him. Something I’m sure no one has ever discovered in Travis because he never reveals it.
He pulls me onto him, and I gasp as I straddle his body. As he clasps my hips, he moves me up and down his belly, my juices sliding over his skin. I feel his cock getting hard in back of me, and soon he lifts me up, impaling me and making me cry out.
Then he fucks me senseless once again, and as the world closes in around me only to blow itself up one more time, it’s easy to forget there’s another world waiting right outside of this bed.
The next morning, the sunlight that’s streaming through the window makes me blink awake. Outside, the tall buildings remind me that I’m not in little Harrisburg anymore, and I stretch my arms over my head. My muscles groan, remembering what Travis did to them—and me—last night and well into the morning. A dull, wonderful ache between my legs is like a sensual souvenir.
Then I reach to his side of the bed only to find it empty.
Loneliness turns me inside out, but then I look to the doorway to see him standing there, and my world is suddenly right again.
His black hair is tousled, his dark green eyes holding that devilish glint I’ve seen in him more often lately, especially last night. His cut torso is bare, and the waistband of his sweat pants rides low on his hips. There’s an electronic tablet tucked under one of his arms, even though he’s holding a large silver tray filled with food. I inch up in bed, pulling the sheets to my chest as I sit.
“Morning,” I say.
“It’s about time you’re up. You must’ve done something to wear you out last night.”
A blush doesn’t even begin to describe the heat that blazes over my skin.
He walks to the side of the bed then slides the tray beside me on the huge mattress. “You wrote on the website that you like a light breakfast.”
“I’ve had yogurt from the fridge every morning this week, so you evidently knew that already.”
“It’s time for a change of pace. Today I fried some eggs and made some toast. Something different.”
Just like last night, I think.
His thoughtful gesture grips me in the chest, squeezing my heart. “Thank you, Travis.”
I look down to also find two glasses of orange juice along with the two plates of eggs. He’s going to join me for breakfast?
As my pulse careens, the aroma of the food makes me realize that I really am starving. I guess last night did wear me out.
He watches me as I butter a slice of toast.
“So you cooked all this?” I ask.
He nods.
“Isn’t your chef here?” I ask.
“I employ him for my main residence and for travel.”
“So you’re the one who cooks when you’re not at home or jet setting?”
“I cook only on rare occasions these days. But when I was in my early twenties and working my way up, I made myself useful in the kitchen because I couldn’t afford to dine out or have someone make meals for me.” He shrugs one shoulder. “Cook also knows how to keep me healthy because I don’t have time to think about what I eat.”
I remember the not-so-faraway day when his gaze got cloudy as he told me that he didn’t expect his girls to cook him anything, as if that would mean some sort of attachment. So what does it mean that he put together a meal for me?
Is it in fact meaningless?
As I glance at him, I decide he probably meant nothing by it. Actually, I’m pretty sure of that because last night he was all heat and fire, but this morning he’s cooled off a bit. He’s not cold, but I sense that he’s got those walls up in my presen
ce again, even if he’s in a good mood.
Maybe it was a fluke that those barriers came down with you last night, I think.
He takes his tablet out from under his arm then sits on the other side of the bed, stretching out his long legs and swiping across the screen with his fingers. He grabs his glass of juice then nods toward the tray, where my phone sits unnoticed by me.
“Thought you might want that,” he says. “It was vibrating with an incoming text.”
Yes, he’s definitely not as open as he was last night, but he’s here, and that makes me happy for now. I’ll be around for only about another week, and that’s enough time for me to just enjoy learning everything he has to teach me for as long as I can.
For the time being I allow my gaze to linger on his muscular arms, then that solid, naked chest that I felt against my bare breasts last night. God, he felt so good…
At the thought of not seeing that torso again, an empty feeling sits in the middle of my stomach, even if I try to fill it with the food. I chase the hollowness away by grabbing my phone from the tray as Travis reads his tablet screen. Then I check my texts.
There’s a message from my mom.
When I’m done reading it, I hold the phone to my chest and laugh in pure relief and joy. Travis looks over to see the tears in my eyes, and he momentarily seems disturbed by that. Then I laugh harder and he relaxes, expressionless.
“It’s my mom,” I say. “She says ‘someone’—that’s you—deposited five thousand dollars into her bank account. The money gave her enough courage to admit what’s been going on to my Aunt Dana, and that my aunt wants Mom and Tate to stay with her for now.” I beam at Travis. “Aunt Dana just started dating a cop.”
The corner of Travis’s mouth twitches upward, into something that almost resembles a smile. “A lucky coincidence,” he says.
“And,” I say, “Mom and my brother are going to leave Gary tonight. Oh, I wish I could be a fly on the wall to see his expression. I hope he cries like a baby after he realizes what’s happened.”
“You and your mother and brother deserve much better than him.” Travis’s smile is gone and he sounds matter of fact, but I think there’s something riding under his comment—happiness for me?