by Noelle Adams
Ben had obviously had enough. He made a gesture of surrender. “Look, I think you’re a fucking idiot, but this is between you and her. If you want to come find me and beat me to a pulp later, I’ll be around.”
Then he just walked away.
“Ben,” she called after him, not even sure why she did. He didn’t really need to be here, since the main issue, as he’d said, was between her and Jonathan. But now she was alone with Jonathan.
A Jonathan whose coiled tension and endless patience had finally snapped.
She turned to look at him. He’d still been holding her wrist, but now he moved his hand up to grip her upper arm.
“He can leave,” Jonathan gritted out. “You’re the one who betrayed me.”
She gasped in indignation, her shakiness and anxiety transforming to hot resentment in an instant. “What? You think I betrayed you?”
“What would you call it then? You’re supposed to be my fiancée and, at the first opportunity, you run off to screw my cousin?”
“I’m not your fiancée,” she practically screamed, trying to get through to his infuriating, pigheaded brain. “We aren’t in a relationship. I can screw whomever I want.”
This was really beside the point and not the best way to calm Jonathan down either. She knew that instinctively, but she was so frustrated she didn’t even care.
How dare he confront her like this, acting as though she’d done something wrong, when all she’d ever done was be faithful to him?
“You’re at least supposed to pretend you’re my fiancée this week. That was our agreement.” His voice was thick now with a new kind of emotion. “And you’ve done a pitifully poor job of keeping it.” His hand tightened on her arm bruisingly, although she could tell it was unintentional.
“You’re hurting me,” she said, shaking her arm in his grip.
He dropped it like she’d burned him. “Sorry.”
“I didn’t screw Ben,” she said, rubbing her arm where he’d grabbed her. “I had no intention of screwing Ben. He was helping me find my ring.” She showed him the ring she’d had in her fist the whole time. “Your ring,” she corrected.
He stared down at it, panting, intensity still radiating off him in waves.
“But I could screw Ben if I wanted to. You have no claim on me.”
“I have no claim on you?” he repeated, his raspy tone making it a question.
“You’re my boss,” she said, the truth in the words aching. She said them anyway. “You’re my boss. Nothing else. I can screw whomever I want.”
He could counter the words if he wanted. He could say she was wrong, that she was more to him than an assistant. She desperately wanted him say something, to pick up the gauntlet her words had thrown down.
He stared at her for a long time, his dark eyes smoldering with something she didn’t understand. Then, before she could prepare herself, he took her face in both of his hands and kissed her.
The kiss was hard, urgent, passionate—nothing gentle or patient about it. And she was so stunned that at first she couldn’t even respond. Her hands fisted in the jacket of his tux as his mouth moved against hers roughly, and she just hung on.
He broke off the kiss suddenly, panting even harder as he stared down at her face again. Then he took a clumsy step back, as if he’d just realized what he’d done.
“Jonathan?” she asked, her voice breaking on the word.
Something was shuddering inside her now—something other than the anger, anxiety, and confusion that were also present.
Something that felt like hope.
Jonathan wasn’t indifferent to her. He couldn’t be. If he was, he wouldn’t have snapped for the first time in years because he thought she was screwing his cousin.
He cared about her as a person. She’d always known that. He fixed the wheels on her chair and stocked her supply of peppermint balls.
But he must feel even more than that. He must.
Maybe he wanted her the same way she wanted him.
“Jonathan?” she asked again, reaching out to grip the lapels of his jacket. Then her question turned into a demand. “Tell me what you want.”
He didn’t tell her. He didn’t say anything. But he reached out and pulled her into another kiss.
This time, she responded.
***
As Jonathan felt Sarah respond to his kiss, he was slammed with waves of desire and primal possessiveness. She was his. It felt like she was his.
He slid his fingers into her hair, accidentally dislodging the pins and causing her hair to spill down over his hand. He made a guttural sound of satisfaction and tangled his hand in her loose waves.
Her body had softened against his, her mouth had opened to the advance of his tongue. Her fingers were clawing eager lines into his back and shoulders as he deepened the kiss.
Her responsiveness thrilled him, and his mind turned into a hot buzz of excitement, pleasure, and lust.
“Jon-athan,” she gasped, as they finally broke the kiss. He couldn’t let her go, though. He trailed a hungry line of kisses along her jaw and then down her neck. He sucked on the throbbing pulse in her throat.
She cried out softly in pleasure, squirming against him now. She wanted him. He could feel how much she wanted him in her body, in her hands, in her intensifying vocal responses.
He wanted to tell her how much he wanted her, but the only word that came out was her name, muffled by his lips on her skin.
She whimpered in response, as if she’d understood him.
He tried to caress her all over, feeling the thin silk over all her lush curves, but their embrace faltered and then her knees buckled, and they both ended up on the ground.
He didn’t care. He moved over her, pulling one of her breasts out of her neckline so he could take it between his lips.
She arched up into his mouth, gasping raggedly and gripping his hair with both hands. “Yes. Please!”
Her obvious desire fueled his own urgency. He was almost painfully aroused now, trying not to grind himself too hard against her thigh. He mouthed and fondled her breasts for as long as he could bear, until she was writhing beneath him and begging him for more.
He reared up, panting as he stared down at her, flushed, tousled, and decadent in her vintage choker and discomposed dress. She wasn’t just beautiful—she was real, alive, passionate, Sarah. He couldn’t believe he’d been so angry with her just a few minutes ago. He had no idea what he’d ever do without her.
She must have seen something on his face because her wriggling stilled and her eyes were suddenly soft and thoughtful. “You okay?”
He nodded, reaching out to cup her cheek with one hand.
She covered his hand on her cheek with one of her own, in a strangely intimate gesture of affection. Then she pumped her hips up to rub her groin against his. “Good. Then hurry up.”
He choked on a huff of laughter and pushed her skirt up even more, his erection pulsing dangerously when he saw she wore only the flimsiest of white lace thongs beneath it. She was wearing another pair of the lace-topped stockings, and the effect was so sexy he was afraid he might embarrass himself.
Incongruously, she blushed an even deeper shade of red as he stared down at her, but her mouth twitched with amusement as she explained, “It’s not my normal underwear. Had to avoid pantyline.”
“Naturally,” he agreed soberly, making her laugh again.
She pulled him down into another kiss, which quickly grew urgent. She clawed at his jacket, but it was too much of a pain to take off, so he didn’t bother. Evidently realizing it wasn’t worth the trouble, her hands moved down to the front of his pants. They were still kissing, their tongues thrusting against each other with the same rhythm of their rocking together.
Sarah fumbled with the button on his pants until she undid it. Then she fumbled some more until she was able to free his erection. She held him in one hand, trapped between their bodies, and it felt so good Jonathan heard himself groaning into
her mouth.
He wanted to please her, wanted to go down on her, wanted to take his time and make sure he gave her as much as he possibly could. But his need was too great. He’d never last that long, and she seemed just as hungry and desperate, since she kept grinding herself against him.
She tore her mouth away from his and rasped, “Jonathan, please. I need you now.”
With another moan, he slipped a hand down to feel her intimately, something wanting to howl inside him when he felt how hot and wet she was. He adjusted his position so he could line himself up at her entrance, and then he nudged before he started to slide in.
He breathed deeply, trying to slow himself down, but Sarah wouldn’t let him. She lifted her pelvis with a whimper, trying to complete the thrust. He pulled back and entered her again, fitting himself into her body until he was fully inside.
She felt so good—so hot and tight and wet and sweet—that his vision blurred and he felt a stirring in his balls. She clawed at his shoulders and wriggled against the penetration in a way that threatened his control even more.
“Jon-athan,” she breathed. “So good, so good.”
He wanted to respond but all he could choke out was, “Sarah.” His arms shook as he fought for control. He needed to please her. Couldn’t let go too soon.
“No.” She’d somehow known what he was thinking. “No, I want you like this. Take what you need. It’s what I need too.”
He muffled a groan and kissed her again, and then he couldn’t control anything. His hips were moving of their own accord, pumping into her with short, fast thrusts. She tried a couple of times to wrap her legs around his waist, but when she did she tightened them on each thrust in a way that just intensified the pleasure. Soon, he had to break the kiss. And then he had to readjust, straightening his arms so he could thrust from a better angle.
Her whimpers and moans turned to loud sobbing sounds of pleasure, and he could feel her body tightening beneath him.
His was tightening too. He was sweating beneath his tux, and her beautiful dress was pushed up in a messy bunch around her waist. They were supposed to be at the reception right now. Someone would notice their absence.
But he didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything but Sarah and how desperately he needed her, how desperately she needed him.
Their bodies slapped together with each thrust, making a carnal, inelegant sound, and a thread of concern made its way into his mind that he was being too hard, too rough. He tried to rein himself in, slowed down, eased the force of his thrusting. But Sarah made another sob—this one of frustration—and dug her fingernails into his ass. “More. I need more.”
She wanted this. She wanted him. So he started to grunt with the rhythm of his thrusting.
He’d never made so much noise during sex before. He wasn’t sure what had possessed him, but it couldn’t be stopped.
He could feel her channel tightening around him as she approached orgasm, could feel all the muscles in her body tense in expectation.
Then she arched up with a loud cry as her body shuddered with her release. There was no way he could hold back his own climax after that. He made a low, uninhibited sound as he came hard, all the tension cresting like a wave.
It was so strong, so deep, he was leveled afterwards. He fell down on top of her, gasping and exhausted. His hips kept giving little jerks as lingering tremors of pleasure ran through him. She would sometimes shake too.
When he could finally lift his head and ease some of his weight off her, he was hit with a knowledge that was like a punch in the gut.
She was crying silently, tears streaming down the sides of her face and into her hair. As he watched, her shoulders shook with it.
He’d known he was out of control, but he’d thought they were together in it. He’d thought she’d wanted it as much as he had.
But maybe he’d been wrong.
Chapter Ten
Sarah didn’t know what was wrong with her, but she was tired of all this crying. She’d never been a big crier, and there was no reason for her to start now.
As she’d climaxed, though, as her body and heart had found such release, her eyes had followed suit. And now she was lying beneath a hot, relaxed, gasping, delicious Jonathan, blubbering like an idiot.
“What’s wrong?” he asked, his flushed, sated face tightening into confusion and concern. “Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head, momentarily unable to speak over the lump in her throat.
“Sarah, tell me what’s wrong. I would have stopped.” His expression twisted, as if he momentarily doubted his words. Then, “I’m sure I could have stopped. I thought you wanted this too.”
“I did,” she managed to choke. “I do. I know you would have stopped. I didn’t want you to.”
“Then why are you crying.”
“I’ve just been crying for no reason all day,” Sarah admitted. “Once I got started, I couldn’t stop.”
Her words were true but, as she tried to wipe her wet face with her fingers, she started to get an inkling of why she was so emotional to begin with.
She’d never been in love before. Not for real. Not like this. And swinging between poles of giddy excitement and impending heartache was evidently quite a strain on one’s emotional equilibrium.
Jonathan gazed down at her, that questioning concern still on his face. His bow tie was askew and his hair was rumpled with perspiration and all the tugging she’d done, so it was sticking out in all directions. He was hot and heavy on top of her, and she was uncomfortably wet between her legs from his release and hers.
But she would be more than happy to live this moment over and over again for the rest of her life.
He adjusted his arms so he could swipe at one of her tears with his thumb. It looked like he was going to say something—maybe something she really wanted to hear—so she waited, her breath caught in her throat.
After a minute, he glanced away—down at her lips. Then he leaned down to kiss them very gently.
She let out her breath as she kissed him back. The kiss was very nice. She reached up to hold the back of his neck and caress his just slightly bristly jaw with her palm.
But she would have rather he say something.
He’d never been a forthcoming man, though. And she knew—she knew—he wouldn’t be kissing her now, not so tenderly, not like this, if he didn’t have some kind of feelings for her.
He was a man who showed his feelings. Maybe it would just take him more time to get the words said.
He eventually deepened the kiss, and Sarah couldn’t help but respond. She’d just had a powerful orgasm, but she felt an ache of arousal tighten between her legs again as Jonathan stroked the inside of her mouth with his tongue.
She was breathing in fast little pants when he broke the kiss to trail his mouth down her throat, his bristles scratching the sensitive skin there.
“Jon-athan,” she gasped, arching up slightly against his weight. “We need to go back to the reception.”
“Mm-hmm.” It sounded like agreement, but he was sucking her pulse and one of his hands had slipped down to stroke her hip.
“I don’t want to go all turned on like this.” She had a fistful of his hair, and she told herself she was trying to pull his head up from her neck. Instead, she was involuntarily holding his head in place.
“You won’t be turned on when we go,” he murmured thickly. He’d moved down to her breasts, taking one in his mouth and fondling the other with his hand.
Sarah arched up even higher at the sensations. “Jon- Jonathan,” she tried again. “I am turned on. Right now.”
“I can take care of that.”
“What are you doing?” she asked, shifting with deepening arousal as he caressed her. “We already had—oh God!—sex.”
“I feel like I came too soon,” he explained, mouthing her belly through the thin silk of her dress. “Should make up for it.”
“What do you mean? I came. It was great.”
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br /> “I know.” Despite what sounded like agreement, he didn’t stop his slow trip down her body. Eventually, he sat up higher to stroke up her thighs with both hands until he’d reached her now pulsing arousal.
“Jon-athan!” she cried, when he penetrated her with two fingers, despite the wet evidence of their earlier intercourse. “What—What are—” She couldn’t finish the question because he’d leaned down flick his tongue against her clit.
She closed her eyes against the intense sensations, arching up again and again as his skillful fingers and mouth worked her up toward climax.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God,” she mumbled as an orgasm tightened inside her. She fumbled for purchase on the ground but only came away with handfuls of grass.
She cried out as she came hard, and then kept crying out as he didn’t stop. His fingers pushed into her g-spot, and he alternated sucking and flicking her clit.
She came again hard. At some point, she’d hooked her legs around his shoulders, and he was having to fight to keep from being strangled between her thighs as he worked her over, bringing her to one more orgasm.
She collapsed on the grass limply when he finally raised his head, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand in a strangely primitive gesture.
“Oh, God, Jonathan,” she gasped. “How did you do that?”
He chuckled, although his dark eyes were soft and hot as he gazed down at her. “I’ve always been good at anatomy.”
She couldn’t help but laugh, her chest hurting with the swell of affection. “We do need to get back. I don’t want to offend your uncle or hurt Harrison and Marietta’s feelings.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, heaving himself to his feet and quickly tucking in his shirt and fastening his trousers.
His tux was rather wrinkled, and his skin was covered with a sheen of perspiration. His hair needed to be smoothed down. He looked absolutely scrumptious.
He extended a hand to help her to her feet, and she cringed as she adjusted her clothing. “I’m a mess.”