Husband Stay (Husband #2)

by Louise Cusack

  But when his erection ground into my pubic bone, I wanted to be more comfortable, so lifted my lower body and let his penis in to slide along my labia. I loved the sensation of it sliding up over my clitoris, but the next thing I felt was him rolling me unceremoniously off.

  My back hit the bed and my cast’s weight flung it wide. We stared at each other for several seconds while I thought What on earth?

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  I kept staring at Jack until finally, he said, “Condom.”

  I frowned. “All right.” It obviously had to be on before penetration. But why the sudden halt? I’d had no experience with birth control, because Danny and I had been trying for a baby the whole time we’d been married, so I’d thought.

  Jack, however, appeared experienced, and he reached over to the side-table and retrieved a small packet, then frowned over the procedure of unwrapping and fitting it. I’d thought at first that he was concentrating, because it seemed to require dexterity to slide that tiny balloon over that turgid flesh. But he was still frowning when he laid back down and said, “Now, where were we?”

  I frowned back at him, but a second later his expression cleared and he said, “A beautiful woman was about to climb onto me and rock my world.”

  That made me smile. “Very romantic,” I mocked, “Next thing you’ll be writing country music.” But I climbed astride him with his very hard penis pressed along the length of my labia which rubbed deliciously, then I caught my breath when his hands cupped my backside and squeezed gently. I leant forward and rested my good hand lightly on his hard chest.

  He grinned at me so I had to say, “What?”

  “You have the most amazingly sexy body, and you’re about to start jiggling it right in front of me while I experience serious pleasure. I think that’s something to smile about.”

  I wanted to sass him back, but his comment had made me unaccountably shy. I was no porn star. Far from it! While I’d had my back on the mattress, I hadn’t felt exposed. However, it seemed as if my wobbling body parts turned him on—funny how men and women viewed things so differently—so I tried to stay in the moment and not be self-conscious.

  “You have some serious pecs here, mister,” I said, giving one a gentle squeeze. Then I ran my fingers up over his beautiful shoulders, leaning further forward and letting my hair drape across his chest. “How are you so muscly? Do you work out?”

  “Oh yeah, I regularly lift twenty pound weights,” he said casually. “One in each hand.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Showboat.”

  He started kneading my backside gently and that shut me up. The sensations tickled up my spine and tingled down toward my genitals, and both felt sensational.

  “Lean forward for me, baby,” he said, urging with his hands on my butt and eyeing my breasts. So I leant forward onto my good elbow, positioning the nipple carefully and a second later felt his lips close over it, sucking and tonguing. It seemed incredible to me that my body could wake up from its languorous daze into shards of pleasure again, but it did. I could feel the tingling heat, the pulling in my groin, and I caught my breath.

  “That’s all I can stand. I want to be inside you,” he said, his eyes very dark, so I let him guide me with a hand on my butt cheek as I rose and hovered over him. At first I felt a poke, then a slide against my clitoris that made me catch my breath again. I was so wet down there. And the friction felt amazing, but a second later he was pushing inside me and using both hands to ease me down.

  That felt incredible—tight and hot—and by the time he was all the way in, stretching me deliciously, I was sitting straight up, staring down into his eyes.

  His lips were parted and he gazed at me with what looked like surprise. “That’s… good.”

  I nodded, suddenly not wanting to talk. This was a fantasy, and I wanted to make the most of it, so I rode him, just how he wanted me to, up and down, nice and slow to start. This time I wasn’t overwhelmed by sensations, so I could appreciate his reactions—the way his eyes closed slightly as I dropped back down, the soft sound in his throat that was half groan and half growl. I loved his hands on my butt, kneading me gently, making me so excited I was sure my nipples would be hard whether I came or not.

  But the thing I loved most was the primordial female pleasure of having a man trapped inside me. He was getting more excited by the moment—I could tell from his breathing and the flush on his cheeks—and when his fingers bit into my butt I went faster, my breasts jiggling seriously under his watchful gaze. Then one of his hands slid around to the front and the thumb stroked my clitoris, which I hadn’t expected. Sparks of pleasure wormed around instantly and I caught my breath in surprise.

  “Three?” I breathed, and he nodded.

  Then I closed my eyes because the world was closing down again to the pull of his thumb against my clitoris as I jerked up and down, moaning shamelessly as the build-up of pleasure bore down on me. I could feel it inside where he was pushing up into me—his butt coming up off the bed—and outside where his thumb rubbed in the slipperiness of our juices.

  “Look at me, Angel,” he growled, and somehow I heard that over the roaring in my ears. My eyes snapped open a second before I came, groaning as if I was in agony and shuddering helplessly on top of him as his thumb kept stroking, pushing me from one peak to the next until at last I collapsed on him, completely and utterly shattered. Finished, inside and out.

  He pushed hair away from my face and whispered, “That’s my girl,” huskily into my ear. Then he rolled me gently onto my back, being careful of my cast, and still inside me, he started up a rhythm again.

  My eyes fluttered open and I wanted to say Stop because my skin felt as if it was turned inside out. Sensitive was too small a word. But the moment I saw the look in his eyes I realized that yes, I wanted this. I wanted him to come inside me. Not because he’d earned it with three spectacular orgasms, but because I was a soppy idiot and I loved the intimacy.

  The closer he got, the more vulnerability I could see on that hard, handsome face until his eyes became almost lost, searching mine as he plunged into me, his lips parted as he breathed through them, those impressive shoulders blocking out the light.

  “Angel,” he whispered, as if he didn’t know I was there.

  I reached up and pulled his face down to mine so I could kiss him sweetly, trying to block out the confusion of sensations my body was registering—some of them pleasurable and some of them aching. And he kissed me back, hot and hard, and so needy I was shocked.

  It was as if he was dying and this lovemaking was his last gasp. He poured everything into it, pounding into my tenderized flesh, his body trembling with tension, his breathing so harsh, for a second I remembered the hospital, the heart monitors, and I was afraid.

  But before I could formulate a question, he came, pulling away from my mouth to groan as his last thrust slammed home and he shuddered above me, tendons clearly visible in his neck as his eyes clenched shut.

  He hung above me there for almost a minute, coming back to himself, and my pulse rate settled as I reassured myself that he wouldn’t have a heart-attack on my watch. Then, with his eyes still closed, he rolled onto his side, pulling me against his chest and I snuggled there, breathing the hot-toast scent of his skin and listening to his thumping heart slow into a strong, steady beat. His chest was against my ear, and between that and biceps, his muscles surrounded me, making me feel safe and protected and cherished.

  Which was crazy. We were…well, not even friends with benefits, because we were strangers. So there should be nothing of emotion. Just mind-blowing sex. And yet…I felt tenderly toward him and I hoped that wasn’t going to cause me trouble.

  I was just worrying about that when he said, “Fuck,” and I blinked. I hadn’t heard him swear since the hospital. “Holy fucking hell,” he whispered, then he kissed the top of my head.

  “Jack?”

  He kept breathing against my forehead, and eventually I pulled back to look at him. “
Are you okay?”

  “No.” He gazed into my eyes and his own were so dark I couldn’t see where pupils stopped and irises began. “You blew my mind. I’m in serious trouble here.”

  A tentative smile tugged at my lips. “Serious?”

  “—trouble, as in, ‘I don’t want to have sex with anyone but you now’.”

  “Oh.” My grin widened.

  “It’s not funny.”

  “No.” I wiped the smile off my face. “That’s a problem.”

  “Because…? You don’t want to have sex with me anymore?” He was adorably demanding with his furrowed brow and tightly held lips.

  “I don’t know,” I teased, liking this new me who was so easy about sex. “This is all pretty new to me.”

  “But you like it?” He was still frowning.

  I paused for effect, then said, “Like is such a small word. You blew my mind.”

  The grin that arrived on his face was endearingly cocky. “Yeah I did, didn’t I?” He gazed at me with those sexy brown eyes, then he kissed me again, hot and sweet, reminding me of all that we’d done. When I was flustered all over again he said, “But even a sex god needs his sleep.”

  I couldn’t help pressing a palm to his chest. “Are you feeling okay?”

  He got what I meant straight away. “I got thrown off a horse and had to have dental surgery so they gave me antibiotics. The wrong sort to start with and I had a bad reaction. But I’m fine now. Really,” he added when I frowned, and I was forced to admit he must be healthy to have that kind of stamina.

  When he was confident that I was reassured, he excused himself to go to the bathroom and presumably dispose of the condom. I was dozy when he came back and pulled me into his arms.

  “Go to sleep now,” he commanded. “Three orgasms are enough for the first time. I’m easing you in slowly.”

  I smiled a dreamy smile. “So if there’s a next time—”

  “There will be.” Even his bossiness was endearing, and I didn’t have the headspace to argue that it would be my decision, not his, because the internal fireworks I’d experienced had worn me out.

  All I could manage was, “I’m glad you found me,” despite the intrusiveness of him going to Kamal’s apartment, and “I’m very glad you…sexed me.”

  He chuckled and kissed my hair. “You don’t swear much.”

  I shook my head, a sleepy effort. “My friend Jill does enough for the four of us.”

  “The four of who?”

  I murmured something in reply. I’m not sure it made sense, but that was all I remembered apart from the scent of Jack’s skin, the feel of his arms and the absolute security of knowing I was safe. I think I had the best night’s sleep of my life.

  The next morning, however, started badly when he surprised me in the shower.

  “Here’s a towel.”

  I spun around too quickly, almost wetting my cast which I’d been holding out of the shower spray. Jack stood inside the bathroom door with a fluffy red towel in his hands. Unfortunately for me, the shower door was glass and despite all that had happened between us the night before, I was suddenly embarrassed to be naked with him in broad daylight. Somehow I managed to stop myself covering my breasts which he inspected along with the rest of me.

  “Wet is a good look on you.”

  I saw movement and glanced down to see his penis taking an interest in the conversation, which only embarrassed me further. “I thought you were asleep.” I cracked the shower door open and snatched the towel off him.

  “I was. I woke up.” He looked down. “So did he.” Then he grinned at me with such boyish charm I couldn’t be cranky.

  “I feel awkward.” Since when did I have the courage to be so honest?

  “I can see that.” He raised an eyebrow. “So I’ll go into the kitchen and make us some coffee, unless you want me here watching you dry and dress.”

  “I…no. I don’t.”

  He shrugged. “Had to try.” Then he pointed to the door and let himself out.

  With the bathroom to myself, I hurriedly dressed in my green tunic and trousers, having left my underwear in my purse. Then I rushed through some basics, borrowing his deodorant from the cupboard and putting toothpaste on my finger to rub it across my teeth. I simply couldn’t use someone else’s toothbrush, especially without their permission. After I’d finger combed my hair and frowned at my freshly washed face with its lack of make-up, I set off for the kitchen and the smell of coffee and toast.

  “How do you like it?” he asked, turning from the coffee machine, still disconcertingly naked.

  “White and one,” I replied as calmly as I could, looking anywhere but at his penis.

  He started to smirk, but kept his attention on the coffee. When he’d stirred the sugar for almost a minute and then handed it over, I could finally sit at the scrubbed timber table and pretend to be inspecting the lace curtains on the casement windows and the pretty leadlight crockery cabinets that somehow didn’t look incongruous beside a shiny stainless steel refrigerator and wall oven.

  I took a sip. “Lovely,” I said instinctively, not even tasting it. Directly across the table from me, almost at eye height, was a penis that jiggled slightly as Jack scratched his shoulder.

  “Does nudity bother you?” he asked, guilelessly.

  I put my coffee cup down and shook my head, smiling calmly as if I was perfectly used to seeing acres of skin and more muscles than any one man could possibly use—before breakfast for goodness sakes. Last night I’d been ogling his amazing body and running my hands all over that very cute butt, which I got a further look at when the toast popped and he turned to attend to it. But today…

  I pushed down my embarrassment and admitted, “I’m better when I can’t see…”

  He looked over his shoulder and I pointed at his groin. “The big guy?” A grin broke over his face and I had to smile back.

  “Yes, the big guy,” I said, humoring him. “I’m sure I’ll feel more comfortable when you’re seated.”

  “I figured you’d be…squeamish.”

  That’s not what he’d meant to say, and I wondered if he’d wanted to say prudish. Despite my lack of orgasms with Danny, I didn’t consider myself a sexual prude. But he was right, I was uncomfortable, which begged the question, “So why are you naked if you figured I’d be squeamish.”

  “Last night you wanted to push boundaries.” He put a plate of toast down in front of me and I could smell strawberry jam. “…so I thought, I’m not in your life to be comfortable old slippers. I must be the guy who challenges you.”

  In my life? What did that mean? I shook my head. “My only area of ‘challenge’ was in achieving orgasms,” I said primly. “I think we’ve established—”

  “That you’re sexually responsive to me.” He smirked again.

  Despite the truth of his statement, it seemed impossibly conceited to rub my nose in the fact. So I said, “Then our work here is done.”

  He leant back on the counter and crossed his arms. “Is that all I am to you? Some guy you used to get you over a sexual hump.” He didn’t look tense, but he’d gone very still.

  “Used?” I blinked at him in surprise. “I used you?”

  “Looks that way.” He tilted his chin up, challenging me. To what? Did he expect me to say he meant something to me? He didn’t. He was just as much a stranger this morning as he had been last night, despite our physical intimacy.

  “Look…” I scrabbled for something to say that wasn’t insulting. “I appreciate your expertise in the bedroom. I’m sure it will help me believe I don’t need to…fake orgasms in the future.” There. I’d said it aloud. I actually felt proud of myself.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Well, at least not with me.”

  I stared at him, amazed at his arrogance, as if he was a sex god and I was some poor orgasm-starved little thing who should feel grateful for his miraculous attention.

  I could feel a pulse throbbing in my temples, and it didn’t matter tha
t I told myself to just be polite and leave because there was no way I’d be having sex again with such an insufferable braggart. Instead, I ended up saying, “You’ve really got tickets on yourself, you know that?” I didn’t often insult people, but he was so infuriating. “Just because you made me come—”

  “Three times,” he cut in smugly.

  And that was it. I had to go.

  I pushed back my chair with a scrape and stormed out of the kitchen, only stopping at the bedroom to snatch up my purse before I marched to the front door where Jack was now waiting, still naked and with his arms crossed.

  He raised an eyebrow. “Going without a goodbye kiss?”

  Honestly, I felt as if my head would explode. Don’t say anything. Just get out the door. I knew I should hold it in, but all the freedom of the past twenty-four hours appeared to have short-circuited my diplomacy program.

  I narrowed my eyes and said, “You…bastard.”

  He grinned at me and my blood pressure rose. “That all you’ve got?”

  I shook my head, trying to work loose some appropriate insults. “First you vomit on my shoes.”

  “Which I’m going to replace.”

  “Then you wreck my wrist.” I held up the cast. “And come to my apartment,” I hurried to add before he could cut in. “So you’re a stalker. Then instead of acting like a normal human being about last night, you embarrass me and insult me and—”

  “So you don’t want to go back to bed and have more orgasms?”

  There was only ten feet between us, and something hot and angry was pulsing in the space between.

  “Because we could,” he said casually, pushing away from the door to walk toward me. “I could strip those clothes back off you, tie you to the bed and lick you until you tell me to stop, which I imagine won’t be for a while.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Jack’s arrogance was completely breathtaking, but as he came to a stop in front of me, I realized that outrage had slid into a throbbing heat that made my lips tingle and my breaths shallow. I didn’t recognize myself inside this sensuous, responsive woman.