He was looking down at her, she could feel it, his gaze like the pressure of his hand on the back of her neck. But she didn’t raise her head to meet it. This was about what she wanted, not him, and she wanted to look.
Concentrating on that hard ridge pushing against his fly, her fingers traced the length of it. Then she undid the top button and tugged the zipper down.
Smith said nothing either to hurry her along or slow her down, and he kept his hands exactly where they were. Waiting.
Her heartbeat was loud in her head, the pulse of her own desire slowly building. Spreading apart the denim of his jeans, she paused for a moment to look at him. At the stretch of his cotton boxers over the rigid length of his cock, because it was just so fucking sexy. She touched him through the cotton, trailing down the material, feeling the heat of him beneath it. God, he felt so good. Strong and hard and just for her.
“Stop playing,” he growled. “Suck my fucking cock, Nora.”
There was an edge to his voice, a note that made her suddenly conscious of her own power right in this moment. A power she’d had the night before yet had been too afraid to acknowledge it.
Not now.
“I’m only doing what you told me to do, Smith,” she murmured, running a light finger over him again, loving the idea she could do this, could touch him and make him crazy the way he’d done with her the night before. “I’m taking what I want. Which means you get to keep quiet and if you’re a good boy, you’ll get what you want too.”
“Last time I fucking do that,” he muttered.
So sulky. She loved it.
She pulled down the cotton of his underwear and drew him out, her hand wrapped around the base of his dick. God, he was something else. Long and smooth and so very hot. So very hard. His skin felt velvety and she wanted to just stroke him over and over. Maybe she should, just to drive him even crazier. Then again, she wanted to taste him more.
She gripped him tight and leaned forward, inhaling the scent of musk and male, bending her head to him and giving the head of his cock a light, exploratory lick.
He stiffened, his breath escaping in a rushing hiss that had something inside her wanting to arch like a cat in pleasured satisfaction. So she did it again, running her tongue around the head, touching on the little slit in the center before swirling around once more.
A low groan came from above her, a muttered, vicious curse. “Yeah, fuck that’s good. Keep it going, baby. Keep it the fuck going.”
And she did, sucking him hard, gripping tight to the base of his cock, reveling in his salty taste. The sounds she was drawing from him were so delicious and so damn erotic she found herself shifting on her knees, the pressure between her legs growing with each low growl, each rough curse. She nipped him, licked him, gripped tight to his thigh with her other hand as she increased the suction, sucking harder.
“Jesus Christ,” he whispered hoarsely. “Jesus fucking Christ, Nora.”
There was so much desperation in her name, it made her heart somersault over and over inside her chest.
This was for her, and yet it was for him, too.
Because he’d given her back herself.
Nora closed her eyes and let the feeling sweep through her, pouring it all back into what she was doing, giving him pleasure. Making him feel good.
Eventually he groaned and his hands dropped to her head, holding on, guiding her movements.
“Look at me,” he ordered raggedly. “I want to see you fucking looking at me when I come.”
And because she wanted to look at him too, to see what she’d done to him, she lifted her gaze finally to his, her whole body scorched by the flames that burned in his dark eyes. And she kept on watching him as he thrust into her mouth, over and over, giving him whatever he wanted, until he went absolutely rigid, pleasure igniting in his face. Then he thrust hard one last time and came, her name a rough, hoarse sound echoing in the space between them.
Chapter 11
Smith sagged forward, bracing his hands on the counter, his head bent, his eyes closed, the aftershocks of one of the most intense orgasms he’d ever had ringing him like a fucking bell.
Through the roaring in his ears, he could hear Nora’s ragged breathing, feel her hand still clutching his thigh like it was a lifeline she was afraid of letting go of. There was a slight pressure against his stomach, the soft warmth of her breath against his skin.
He took a harsh breath, fighting to pull himself back together again.
Jesus. She and that beautiful mouth of hers had wrecked him.
No. She wrecked you long before she got down on her knees.
His fingers tightened on the counter, the thought stark in his head.
Because she had. First he’d gotten insanely protective of her, hating that tired, defeated look on her face, and then the way she’d dropped that tough-girl front and put her head on his chest, revealing her fears to him, had just gone ahead and made everything worse.
He hated that she’d been denying herself what she wanted all these years, because she thought she didn’t deserve it. Because if there was anyone who deserved all the good things, it was Nora.
Why? Because she gives good head?
No, shit, it didn’t have anything to do with that. It was all about the shy, lonely teenager he’d met all those years ago. The girl who’d chosen him to give her virginity to, as if he was worth the gift of it. The girl who’d listened to him talk about the house he wanted to build and the life he wanted to have, and had encouraged him to go for it. The girl who’d trusted him with her own dreams in return.
That girl was still there, still part of her. And she deserved everything. She wasn’t weak and she never had been, whatever she thought.
I ruined your life….
No, fuck, she hadn’t ruined anything. He’d achieved all the things he’d set out to achieve. He had the house he’d always wanted, the job that gave him freedom, a family at his back, yeah, pretty much everything.
Except one thing…
Yeah. He didn’t have her.
Smith didn’t move as the realization washed over him in a hot wave.
This was supposed to be one last night to work out his curiosity and the chemistry between them, and then he was going to fuck off out of this goddamn beige excuse of an apartment, never to see her again.
And yet, he found that that was the last thing in the entire goddamn world he wanted to do. He didn’t want this to be their last night. He wanted more.
Her head was against his stomach, her breath on his skin and his cock already hardening for a second go. Christ, a second, third, fourth go. More.
She was the only thing he didn’t have and he wanted her.
So take her.
His heart pressed hard against his ribs and he opened his eyes, looking down at the woman kneeling at his feet. He could only see the top of her head and the golden spikes of her eyelashes. She had her cheek turned against his abdomen, one arm wrapped loosely around his thigh.
Smith reached down and gripped her braid again, pulling her head back so he could see her face.
She was flushed, the gold in her eyes glittering bright, full of heat and desire. And she smiled as she met his gaze, a very female, self-satisfied smile. A woman confident of her own power to bring him to his knees.
Fuck, she was beautiful. Sure, he’d loved the girl she’d once been, but that was a long time ago, when he’d tried being a good boy. He wasn’t a good boy now, though, and he needed a strong woman. A woman who could match him and wouldn’t take any shit. The woman she was now.
Hell, yeah, screw this one night bullshit. He wanted her and he was going to take her, and not for a night or two or whatever.
He wanted her for as long as he could get.
Smith let her go and pushed himself away from the counter with a hard, sharp movement, doing up his jeans in the process. Then he reached down and did what he should have done the moment she’d first walked into the Rusty Nail. He gathered her up i
nto his arms.
She melted against him, her hands on his chest, spreading her legs as he sat her on top of the counter, giving him space to stand between them. When he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her in close, she gave a little shiver.
“Smith,” she said huskily, her hands flat to his chest. “I don’t—”
“Quiet,” he ordered, sliding a hand up to the back of her head and cradling it in his palm. “I’ve got something to say.”
Her gaze dipped to his mouth. “I hope it’s something along the lines of kissing me. Though I’d really prefer you just to do it rather than talk about it.”
He ignored that. “I want you,” he said fiercely, instead. “And not just a night or two. I want more than that.”
She blinked at him, her brow creasing. “What? What do you mean?”
“I mean, I wanna see where this leads, Nora. You and me, together. I wanna try again.”
Her mouth opened, shock crossing her face. “You and me as in…?”
“As in you being my girlfriend. Hell, maybe even my old lady.” No, he’d never thought he’d want an old lady, pretty much because he had all the pussy he needed already and without the complications.
But shit, if that old lady was Nora, then why not?
Nora’s gaze searched his. “But…why?”
“I’ll show you why.” Smith dug his fingers into her hair, tilting her head back, staring down into her dark eyes. Then he covered her mouth, holding her still so she couldn’t pull away, kissing her deep and hard, and hungry.
She made a soft sound in her throat, her arms sliding up and around his neck, her lips parting under his, kissing him back as hungrily as he was kissing her.
Jesus, but she tasted sweet, and he wanted to keep on exploring her hot mouth, yet he pulled back, staring down into her eyes, watching the gold lights shimmering in the darkness and the color that had risen to her cheekbones.
Yeah, this was what he wanted. Tough and sassy on the outside, hot and passionate on the inside.
“Get the picture now?” he demanded.
A shadow moved in her gaze, but before he had a chance to figure out what it was, it had gone. Then she was leaning forward, her arms tight around his neck. “Maybe,” she murmured. “Though you might need to do a little more convincing.” And then her mouth found his again in a long, deep, sweet kiss that felt like it went on forever.
He let the kiss go on, sliding down to cup the curve of her butt and bringing her close to the edge of the counter, fitting the heat between her thighs to where his rapidly hardening dick pressed against his zipper. She shivered, her hips rocking, trying to get even closer.
Reluctantly, he lifted his mouth from hers and reached around to his back pocket, pulling out his wallet and deftly extracting the condom from it. Then he dropped it back on the counter beside her and reached down to undo his jeans.
“You don’t want to do this in bed?” She wasn’t looking at him, her gaze following his movements as he ripped open the packet and took out the condom, easing his cock out and rolling the latex down.
“No.” He didn’t have the patience to move anywhere else, not right now. “I’m gonna fuck you on your kitchen counter. You got a problem with that?”
She met his gaze, tilting her head slightly to the side. “Um…let me see…do I have a problem with that?” The beginnings of a wicked smile turned her mouth. “What if I do?”
Little witch was teasing him and shit, he liked it.
“Then that would be too fucking bad.” He flicked open the button on her jeans and pulled at her zipper.
Her breath caught sharply but she made no attempt to stop him. “You mean I don’t get a choice? Is that what you’re saying?”
“The only choice you get is whether to come now or whether I take my time and torture you.” He spread open the denim, his pulse thudding hot and hard in his head at the glimpse of her black lace panties. “So what’s it to be?”
“Wow, Ace.” There was a dry note in her voice. “You really know how to seduce a girl.”
He gripped the waistband of her jeans. “I thought we’d discussed this. You love it when I’m being an asshole.”
“Sadly, I do,” she agreed. “And you love it when I’m being a bitch.”
He grinned. She was right. He did. “Stop complaining, then. You’ll get what you want, don’t worry.”
“And what is it exactly that I want?”
“Lift your butt up and I’ll show you.”
She leaned back on her hands, obliging him, and he tugged down her jeans, taking her panties with them, pulling them right off her until she was sitting on the counter naked from the waist down.
“Better,” he murmured, taking in all that smooth, bare golden skin. “Yeah, so much fucking better. Spread your thighs, baby. I wanna see where I’m going.”
She obeyed without hesitation, giving him the most perfect view of soft, golden curls and wet pink flesh.
The breath escaped him in a rushing hiss. “Fucking hell, golden girl…”
Nora gave a husky laugh, the sound stroking down his back like a caress, and reached out a hand, wrapping her fingers around his aching dick and squeezing him until he groaned. “You’re talking too much, Smith. I’ve decided I want to come now. So how about you shut up and get on that?”
Smith was hot and hard in her palm and there was nothing she wanted more than him inside her right goddamn now. Because thinking about what he’d just asked her, let alone giving him an answer, felt too difficult.
You and me, together…
Did she want that? Did she want to try again?
She held him tightly in her hand, stared into his dark eyes. They weren’t actually black, but a deep brown, the color of very strong espresso. The kind that gave you an intense hit of caffeine, that kept you wired and awake for hours. That buzzed in your veins and made you a little crazy.
He still makes you crazy, even after so long.
He did, no escaping it. The young man she’d known back in Houston hadn’t had all these hard edges. He’d been softer, more forgiving, gentler. He wasn’t that now. Now, he was rough, blunt, powerful, and there was nothing soft or forgiving about him.
Yet, it seemed that echoes of the man he’d been were still there, in the gentle way he held her, in the things he’d said to her, about dreams, about not letting them die. About her being strong…
He’s nothing like your father.
The realization hit her hard and for a moment she just stared into Smith’s eyes, hardly able to breathe. Was that why she’d been pushing against him all this time? Why she’d been holding back? Because she was expecting him to be just as controlling as her father had been?
But he wasn’t. Okay, so he might act like he was king of the entire world, but there was a difference between him and her father and the difference was that Smith seemed to actually care about her. Smith actually wanted her.
Her. The woman she was now. Stronger. More certain. He had changed, but so had she. Maybe back then she wouldn’t have been able to handle him, and maybe he wouldn’t have known what to do with her. Maybe she would have lain down and let him walk all over her, and youth and inexperience would have made it so he didn’t even realize what he was doing.
But not now.
One black brow rose. “What’s up, golden girl? Lost your nerve?”
No. But you could lose your heart.
It would be so easy, too. After all, she’d lost it once already to him. It could happen again without her even trying.
Maybe it’s already happened.
She shivered at the thought. No, she couldn’t think about that and what it would mean right now. Later, when the insistent hunger had maybe faded a bit.
Pushing herself to the edge of the counter and spreading her legs wide, Nora ignored the bittersweet pain that had her in its grip. Then she guided him to her, watching him as she did so, seeing his eyes widen, hearing his breath catch as he slid inside her.
&nbs
p; “Fuck,” he whispered. “Nora.”
She shivered, tilting her hips, letting him slide deeper until he was as deep as he could get and she closed her legs around his waist, pressing her body right up against his. Then she reached up and took his face between her palms and held him. “Look at me,” she ordered. “Eyes on me, Smith.”
She wanted to see what she did to him. She wanted to see him come apart the way she’d come apart with him the day before.
She held him gently, keeping his gaze locked with hers as he began to move. His hands were hard on her hips, his movements at first slow, then becoming harder, faster.
His pupils expanded, swallowing all that delicious brown, making his gaze truly black now. And yet it wasn’t dark. It was full of heat and flames. Full of pleasure and passion. For her.
She kept her hands on that strong, powerful jaw, holding him, watching him as she rocked her hips, moved with him, the pleasure in his eyes the perfect mirroring of her own. And her poor battered heart began to swell, inflating like a balloon, the feeling intense, inescapable. It kept building, deepening, becoming overwhelming, and she let it.
He was right. She would damn well take what she wanted without fear. Because if getting kicked out of home, if losing everything was going to be worth a damned thing, then she had to get something she wanted out of the deal.
And what she wanted was him.
So when he whispered her name desperately a second time, she pulled him close and covered his mouth with her own.
And when the orgasm burst like a firework along every nerve ending she had, she found the courage to say, Yes. Let’s try again.
But only in her head.
Chapter 12
Smith sat on the edge of Nora’s bed the next morning, listening to the sound of the shower through the open door of the bathroom. He’d tried to join her, but the practicalities of a tiny shower when there were two people, one of them six foot four, had defeated them. Much to his annoyance.
Really, this place was shit. They should be at his, where at least he had a shower that could take both of them without any problems. In fact, he should suggest that. He could pick her up after work, take her home with him. They could have dinner, talk about stuff, and then they could spend the rest of the night in bed. Or in the shower. Or anywhere, really, as long as she was naked, he didn’t care.
Make It Hurt (Texas Bounty) Page 16