by Tina Donahue
He scooted down and lifted his ass until his cock and balls hung suspended above her face. Just out of reach, like forbidden fruit. She squirmed beneath him, no doubt trying to get her hands free so she could go to her elbows.
Thankfully, the twins didn’t release her.
Alexa muttered an oath, then ordered, “Lower.”
“Stay where you are,” Hunt ordered the men.
“Not them,” she complained. “You. Lower your ass so I can lick your cock.”
“I’m close enough.” He wanted her to work for it, needing to know how much she desired him.
She swore again, a bit more colorfully this time.
Smiling, Hunt settled himself between her legs and lapped her furry little mound, obsessed with its flavor and scent.
She groaned and moaned, then whined, “Dammit, move down.”
He backed up until his sex was above her forehead. Close, yet so far away.
“That’s not what I meant,” she growled.
No fucking kidding. He resumed his previous position and buried his face in her cunt.
She stiffened, then collapsed, her thighs bending outward, her ass lifting so he could find and use her clit. It was within licking distance, not that Hunt intended to do a thing until she tended to him.
After a few seconds, Alexa caught on. Given the way she huffed and wriggled her body, she was fighting to get her head up enough to reach the best part of him. At length, she succeeded, managing to lick the tip of his cock.
Jesus. The heat of her tongue registered first, its dampness next. So many uncivilized sensations rumbled through him, he shuddered. She grunted, as though desperate to have more.
Her hunger for him persuaded Hunt to move down, making his shaft more accessible.
Alexa tongued the crown, guiding it into her mouth, holding him gently between her lips. Blood pounded in Hunt’s ears. He gritted his teeth to keep from coming. His fucking cock was so hard, so damn needy for her, he thought he might burst.
No, shit no. He wasn’t going to climax, not yet. He couldn’t allow it. He’d have to rest for minutes, maybe a half hour if he was very unlucky, and would lose that time with her.
Precious moments he’d never get back.
Steeling himself against what she was doing, Hunt focused on her cunt, its damp warmth and musky fragrance. As he lapped and suckled her, the other men moved closer to the platform, just as he’d arranged for them to do.
“Don’t lick her clit,” one of them called out, participating in the act in the only way allowed. “Not yet.”
“Make her wait for it,” another said.
“Will you look at her face?” the first added. “She’s dying to come, to have him inside of her.”
“Her nipples couldn’t get any harder,” someone else said. “Those little tips are so fucking hard, I bet they’d feel real good in his mouth.”
“He should turn around and lick them instead. Keep her waiting and hoping for relief.”
Several men applauded at the notion. Some whooped and whistled.
Hunt continued to arouse her. Beneath his hands, he felt Alexa’s buttocks tightening. He heard her harsh breaths.
“Shit,” another guy said, speaking above the other noise. “He’s making this too easy on her. We want her to fucking beg for it.”
His lewd remark and those of the rest weren’t lost on Alexa. She moaned wantonly, her body at last softening beneath Hunt’s, her obedience to all that he willed exactly what he’d been waiting for. Proof that she could trust him, he’d be there for her, he’d bring her more satisfaction and happiness than she believed possible.
Again, he flicked the tip of his tongue over her clit, making certain to keep his body lifted so his cock wasn’t easy to reach.
Didn’t matter. Repeatedly, she managed to take the head into her mouth, making his hair stand on end, suckling him with what appeared to be adoration and a dash of defiance. Hunt liked her gutsiness the best, which made him more than determined to win this contest of wills.
With his arms around her upper legs, Hunt gripped her ass, separating the cheeks. Alexa’s tongue stalled on his crown. Thank god. It gave him a moment to recover and focus. He dragged his tongue around her clit and his fingers over her anus, circling the little ring, teasing that part of her.
Alexa went very still.
Did she think that would get him to stop? No fucking way. Only her telling him to do so would make that happen.
She didn’t say the words. From the sound of it, she could scarcely catch a full breath.
He continued, his mouth tending to her cunt, his forefinger penetrating her anus.
She came. Sounds rushed from her that other women had made when he’d masturbated them, but Alexa’s were richer, sweeter and all because of him…who he was to her. A man she’d never expected to come into her life. One she couldn’t deny her feelings for. Not any longer.
Allowing her to wind down, he stopped licking her nub and brought his hand back from her anus.
“Damn,” she panted. “What is the matter with you?”
Hunt looked over his shoulder. Even in the subdued light, Alexa’s face was a deep red from her climax, her chest sweaty. Strands of her hair stuck to her throat. If she breathed any harder, she’d blow a lung.
“I did something wrong?” he asked.
She gulped more air, then glared at him. “Why won’t you come?”
So that’s what was bothering her.
Suddenly, she looked frightened, lost, back to being that little girl no one had loved, a child who couldn’t seem to do anything right. She whispered, “Aren’t you turned-on?”
Was she kidding? He’d practically ground his molars to dust, he’d been clenching his jaw so hard. Tomorrow it was going to hurt like hell. Tonight, the only pain he felt was in his unappeased cock.
He lifted himself from her and turned around. Taking the hint at what was going to happen next, the guys released Alexa and left the bed, joining their colleagues at the edge of the platform.
Hunt lowered his face to hers. “Did you just accuse me of not being horny?”
She smiled at his rigid cock resting on her thigh. “I did say that, didn’t I?”
“You bet. Are you sorry?”
She slid her tongue out of her mouth, licked the seam of his, then murmured, “Only that your cock’s on my leg instead of in my cunt. What’s the matter, Hunt? You forget where my pussy is? You need me to show you?”
Definitely too sassy. In answer, he placed his hand on her opening, rolling her clit between his thumb and forefinger.
She whimpered, a sound so similar to begging there was very little distinction.
“Nope, I haven’t,” he said, removing his hand.
Alexa cupped his face, her thumbs stroking his cheeks. “Don’t make me wait any longer to have you inside of me. Please.”
Hunt liked the sound of that. “Why?”
She screwed up her mouth. “Huh?”
“Why don’t you want me to wait?”
“I’m horny. Obviously.”
Not good enough.
“You’re horny,” she added. “Your pre-cum’s all over my leg.”
He arched one brow.
She rolled her eyes.
“Want to ask the guys?” he whispered. “Think they might say what you already know, but refuse to admit?”
Her expression changed. She wore the same look now that she had in that school photo where she appeared pissed at the world. Afraid of it too.
“Fine,” he said. “If you won’t ask, then I guess I’ll just have—”
She cut in. “Shut up, all right? This is between you and me.”
“What is?”
“I want you. You know I do.”
He grinned.
“Tonight,” she added.
That killed the magic and made Hunt want to take her as ruthlessly as he felt. To force her to admit her feelings for him by pounding into her—behaving like a Neanderthal, exac
tly as his mother’s boyfriends had done when she didn’t do whatever they wanted.
He was a better man than that, and by god, he was going to prove it to himself and to Alexa. “Yes, tonight,” he said, “since it’s all that we have.”
Her expression went from surprised that he’d agreed with her to something else. Fear? Or was it sorrow that this might be the only time they had left? If it was, Hunt was going to make the most of it.
Positioning himself between her legs, he lifted his cock, running the head up and down her slit.
Her breathing accelerated once more.
“Like that?” he asked.
“Very much.”
She meant it. She sounded different than she had just a moment earlier. As though he’d peeled away one of her many layers, coming closer to the real woman beneath all the other junk.
“Fast or slow?” he asked.
“Either. Both. You decide.”
Her trust was so unexpected and welcomed, Hunt couldn’t wait any longer. With one assured thrust, he was within her completely, their bodies touching.
Alexa lifted her chin to the ceiling. He licked her throat.
Chuckling, she brought her face back down. Seconds passed as she studied him, clearly lost in his gaze, their minds and hearts as connected as their bodies were at this moment.
“Nice,” she whispered.
It was beyond that. He was home.
Hunt kissed her deeply.
The men fell silent. Even the music grew restrained. A lone sax wailed poignantly, bringing to mind lost love, wasted chances.
Not for him. Not for them.
Hunt finished their kiss, leaving Alexa’s mouth damp and slightly bruised. She gave him a grateful smile. Returning it, he pumped into her, more slowly than his body wanted, every part of him pleading for relief.
He refused to give in to mere lust. This was about winning her heart. Hunt continued his measured thrusts, delighted at how her breasts shimmied with the movements. She wrapped her calves around his hips and gripped his upper arms, holding tight.
Thrilled, he stroked her clit and smiled broadly.
She was too far gone to respond, her expression glazed with desire, her channel tightening around his rod. The added friction pushed him past the point of no return. Increasing his pace, Hunt plowed into her just as he’d wanted to earlier. She hung on to him, crying out in delight as she came.
He kept at it for a few seconds more, then succumbed to the powerful emotions surging through him, making him weak and even greedier for the next time. Because there would be that.
Another shiver tore through Hunt, making it too difficult for him to remain as he was. Alexa knew. With her palms on his back, she invited Hunt into her arms, cradling him close.
He suckled her neck.
She giggled, then whispered, “More.”
Was there another word more beautiful in the English language? Before this evening ended, Hunt was going to make certain she said the same thing to him in all the languages she spoke. “More, huh?”
“Yeah.”
“Give me a few secs.”
Her arms tightened around him. She pressed her face to his shoulder. “You have two. That’s it. I mean it.”
Beneath her teasing Hunt heard unexpected desperation. He wanted to believe it was nothing more than her longing for them to make love again. No way did he want to consider it might be something else.
That she needed to fill these hours with as much joy as possible, because she intended to stay true to her promise that this would be their last evening together.
Chapter Eleven
“Thank you,” Ronnie said, taking the Bordeaux from Wallace. She held her glass up to the firelight, aping the movements of the snooty connoisseurs she’d studied over the years. Even without their elevated sense of the divine or a high school diploma, she could see the ruby color was exquisite.
After a brief whiff of the bouquet, she hazarded a guess, “Château Pétrus?”
Presumably, it was the most expensive wine in the world, costing three grand and up per bottle. Only the best for Tim Bellamy, Hunt’s friend and colleague who’d been with Hunt that first night he’d met Alexa. According to Ronnie’s dossier on Tim, his late grandfather had owned this twenty-two-acre spread and the Georgian Colonial mansion where she and Wallace now waited. The old man had given Tim the place as a reward for passing the bar.
“Château Margaux,” Wallace said. His suit jacket lay on an overstuffed chair to the side. He gestured to the studded leather sofa where Ronnie sat.
She inclined her head, inviting him to join her. This evening, both of them were watching over Alexa.
“Unfortunately, Mr. Bellamy doesn’t own any Château Pétrus,” Wallace added. “I know, I searched his wine cellar thoroughly.”
Ronnie raised her glass in salute to him. “You’re a good man.”
“Yes I am.” He took a sip of his wine, studying the bobbing flames rather than her.
Good thing. Ronnie wasn’t immune to Wallace’s interest. He’d been a faithful employee all these years not only because of the great salary and benefits she provided but because he seemed to genuinely like the person she was. Maybe he even got her. Who knew?
He’d never declared himself. However, too many times, Ronnie had caught him regarding her with the same kind of absorption men give to women they want. Even with her latest illness, he hadn’t grown distant. If anything, Wallace had made certain he was available to see to her every need, even having prepared the fire for her arrival tonight.
He’d learned such devotion from his late wife. Stricken with Alzheimer’s in her late forties, she’d lasted only a few years before succumbing to the disease. At the time, Wallace had bankrupted his own limo service to pay for her care, which necessitated his working for Ronnie.
If she’d asked him to hold her tonight to ease her persistent pain—both physical and mental—she sensed he would have done so readily.
Something deep within Ronnie stirred at the thought, warming her more than the fire or wine ever could. Even so, she couldn’t allow either of their feelings to lead them to bed like Hunt and Alexa. Not because those two were young and had a corner on sex. Nor did it involve Ronnie being Wallace’s boss. She didn’t want him seeing her without the ever-present headscarf or her clothing that hid how frail she’d become. She couldn’t let him know how much she’d lost.
Even the best plastic surgeons couldn’t hide all of her scars. Those imperfections shamed her as a woman and worried her too. Which part of her body would the doctors take next if her latest surgery and the current round of chemo didn’t work? Ronnie hadn’t lied to Alexa about being on track and getting better…at this moment. But what about tomorrow and the next day? There was no damn guarantee with a bitch like cancer.
On a heavy sigh, she took a sip of the Margaux.
“You all right?” Wallace asked. He continued to face the massive stone fireplace.
Ronnie swallowed, hoping the wine would relax her. “I’m fine, thank you. Do you think Alexa’s okay?”
“My cell phone’s not ringing.” He turned to her. “Mr. Prescott does have my number should anything go wrong. Hopefully, he’d call me, not 9-1-1 if Ms. Marsh was giving him any problems.”
Ronnie worked her mouth so she wouldn’t smile at his teasing. “You think I’m being a fool for coming here tonight and waiting for her. After all, she’s only several acres away from this house, and in a tent, no less.”
“You forget, she’s in that thing with Mr. Prescott.” Wallace sipped a bit of his wine. “Trust me, that man has everything under control.”
Ronnie wasn’t worried about Hunt. “You would know. You were there with Alexa when she was stalking him.”
“When he came to our table, I thought he was going to beat me up. I’m certain it crossed his mind. Thankfully, she told him I was old, the only portion of her cover story that wasn’t a lie. Once he’d taken a good look at me, he appeared to believe
that part.”
Ronnie grinned, liking how Wallace looked. He was what women would call ruggedly handsome. Not a pretty or perfect face like those owned by the boys who were current Hollywood stars, but one with character lines that showed Wallace had lived and had loved. His wife had been one lucky lady to have experienced his devotion. He deserved another woman like her, rather than one who’d pretty much used up all of her chances at happiness and might not last the year.
Wallace took another sip of his drink and swallowed. “You know, you’re wrong about what I’m thinking.”
Heat prickled Ronnie’s cheeks. Had the way she’d looked at him given away her thoughts? Was the attention he’d shown her no more than a faithful employee worried about his boss? “I am?”
“No need to look so grim,” he said hurriedly. “You love Ms. Marsh as you would a daughter. That’s wonderful. Exactly what she needs.”
Oh. They were speaking about Alexa, not them. Thank god. Embarrassment wasn’t something Ronnie wanted to experience tonight. She stopped fooling with her pearls. “Did she seem happy when you dropped her off?”
“I gave her a chance to change her mind and tell me to take her back to the city. She didn’t. She marched into the tent like a trouper.”
Or a woman driven by love.
“Should I leave?” Ronnie asked. “I don’t want to mess up anything.”
As though they’d been doing this all of their lives, Wallace reached over and took her hand. His was much larger and delightfully warm. Combined with her drink, his touch soothed Ronnie more than her many medications.
“You won’t,” he murmured. “She never has to know you were here.” He looked at her and smiled.
His expression was so intimate, it stripped Ronnie of all artifice and made her heart race. A more sensible woman would have pulled away, but then no one had ever accused her of being judicious when it came to men.
“Thank you,” she said, squeezing his hand.
Wallace laced his fingers through hers and held tight. “My pleasure.”
With each hour that passed, Alexa grew wilder, her carnal needs more intense. She couldn’t help herself. The few minutes Hunt kept taking to rest made her greedy for them to resume.