"Do you like that?" He didn't bother to wait for her answer. Instead, he teased her further and wrapped his lips around her nipple, catching the bud between his teeth, biting down gently, lashing her skin with his tongue.
Her legs shook, and her breath grew ragged and disjointed. This was the kind of power he wanted over her. He wanted to be able to empty her mind, drag her so deeply into pleasure that she forgot how to breathe.
He let go of her breast and swept her out of the water, cradling her in his arms. He set her down on the bed. The towel lay mostly unused underneath her, and droplets of water still hung to her skin and hair. She pulled at the towel, trying to wrap it around herself.
"Stop," he said, unbuttoning his dress shirt.
She continued to struggle with the towel and ignored his instruction. He grabbed her by the hips and shoved her onto the bed, climbing on top of her. Her eyes were wide, but she didn't say a thing as his hands swiftly moved from her hips to her wrists, pinning her hands above her head.
"I said stop," Shane repeated.
She nodded and shifted underneath him, bending her knees on either side of his hips. She raised her head, her arms straining against his grip, and kissed him slowly. Her tongue slid into his mouth, sweeping along his before retreating again and making another pass.
She rolled her hips underneath him, the rhythm matching her tongue’s sinful dance. He moaned and ground his erection against her. He was fully clothed, but she made him feel as if he could come without ever making contact with her skin. Another low growl escaped his lips, and he felt Taylor smile.
"Do you like that?" she whispered.
Shane sprang into action, refusing to let her get the best of him. He pulled her across the bed, throwing dozens of pillows out of his way, and dragged her onto his lap before he lay down, pulling her hips forward. He growled, "You don't get to decide what I like yet."
CHAPTER SEVEN
______________
TAYLOR
She grabbed onto the headboard to steady herself as Shane dug his fingers into her hips and pulled her toward his mouth. She was panting and struggling to catch her breath.
She could hardly believe this man was her Shane. The partner and friend she'd known had never been this assertive with her. Whether it was on the job or when he'd finally shared his feelings with her, he'd always given deference to her, which is exactly what she would expect from a coworker and friend.
But this Shane didn't give her a second to make a decision. Nothing had been up to her since the second she'd agreed to give him this weekend. She wanted to defy him, to find out how he would keep her in line, how he would bend her to his will.
Anticipation pulsed through her, and her heart was pounding so hard it threatened to burst from her chest. If anyone else had thrown her around like this, grabbed her face, bitten her tits, she would have never invited him back to her bedroom. But she trusted Shane explicitly—she knew she was safe with him. She was excited by his power and control, not scared.
His hands gripped her ass hard enough to leave bruises as he held her pussy against his mouth. She shifted her legs and arched her back, opening herself to him. He slipped his tongue between her lips and ran it along the length of her slit, sending shivers up her spine, until he reached her clitoris.
She swayed and moved her cunt against his mouth in tandem with his wicked flicks. Her head fell forward as she drowned in pleasure, focusing only on his movements.
He ran his tongue in circles around her clit until she moaned and begged for more, but he closed his teeth around her bud, drawing a low, hungry groan from her throat. He flattened his tongue and lapped up her arousal. She couldn't think as she arched her back further and writhed against him, bringing herself closer and closer to a climax.
"Shane," she whimpered. "Use your fingers. I'm going to come."
His hands left her ass and shot up the front of her body, pushing her off his face as his fingers closed around her throat. Just firm enough to keep her still. She froze. Adrenaline rushing through her, feeling ready to fight. Taking in deep, uninhibited breaths, testing his hold, she relaxed and lowered her eyes to look at him.
"Do not tell me how to fuck you. I decide when you come, understand?"
She nodded slightly.
He didn't loosen his grip.
She was poised over his chest, and he lifted his head to kiss her clit as his other hand rose to her pussy, and he pressed his fingertips against her entrance. He paused there and drew circles around her clit with his calloused thumb.
She looked down at him through heavy eyelids. The rough pad of his thumb passed directly over her clit, and she moaned quietly. The corners of his mouth rose into the slightest smile as she relaxed around his hand, and her body grew heavy as he dragged her back under a cloud of pleasure.
Shane slipped his fingers inside her, and she grabbed the headboard to steady herself again. She let her head fall into his hold as she moved against his hand. She couldn't relax entirely, but she was in complete control over how intense the pressure was. She opened her heavy lids and gazed into his eyes as she let her head roll to the side and breathed in deeply. His eyes never left hers.
She ground urgently against his hand, and his fingers matched her pace, thrusting into her and curling seductively before retreating and torturing her again. Meanwhile, his thumb danced around her clit. Building tension inside of her body so intense that she felt like she would burst if she didn't find release.
Her hands gripped the headboard as she rode his hand. She came back to center in his grip and quietly begged, "Please." Her throat rested against his hand as she waited for his permission to come. The dull ache spread and grew as he nodded silently below her.
She fell over the edge. Her legs shook as waves of warmth rippled through her body. Her hands fell from the headboard as her body tensed and relaxed. Her eyes closed, and fireworks exploded behind her lids.
Shane lowered his arm and slowly brought her to his chest. Taylor lay on top of him, exhausted and sated.
"Do I need to set a rule that you can't actually pass out during sex?" he asked gruffly.
She nuzzled against his neck. "I would never. I just forgot to move. I forgot I needed to breathe."
He buried his hand in her hair and pulled her head back, forcing her to look at him. "I've waited for years to have you. You can't die the first time we fuck."
"You haven't actually fucked me yet." She smiled.
"We have plenty of time to get to that."
Taylor slid her hand over the front of Shane's pants, feeling his hard length pressed against his leg.
"You're really in no hurry?" she asked as she traced the outline of his swollen head and dragged her finger back up the side of his shaft. She didn't wait for his answer before reaching for his belt and deftly maneuvering the hardware with just one hand.
He still held her hair, and she watched his face as she snaked a hand under his waistband and wrapped it around his thick cock. His gaze was fixed to her hand as her wrist slipped below the fabric of his pants and reappeared again as she stroked him again and again.
He let out a low and primal moan before he freed himself from her hand and pushed himself off of the bed.
CHAPTER EIGHT
______________
SHANE
Taylor stayed where she was and watched as he shed his clothes. After feeling her hand on his cock, the only thing he wanted was to feel the rest of her pressed up against him.
She was fucking stunning and his.
He needed to hear her cry as he filled her completely with his dick.
Her ragged breath in his ear as he drove into her again and again.
She was at his mercy.
He climbed on top of her and covered her mouth with his—he covered her entire body with his.
She wrapped her arms around him, pulling him toward her, whimpering and mewling with need, guiding his cock to her cunt.
He paused, trying to force himself to
take his time, to really take in all of her, take in every piece of this moment he’d been dreaming of for years. But she tilted her hips and dragged him in farther, pulling at his hips, urging him to bury more of his cock inside of her.
He retreated and drove into her again, sinking his cock deeper and deeper each time until, at last, he was fucking her with his whole length.
She gripped his shoulders and cried out each time he crashed into her. Interspersed throughout her cries and moans were calls for more. Her body writhed against his, moving with his thrusts. He couldn't believe Taylor was finally his. He knew she would never leave him now.
She clung to him, kissing and nipping his shoulders, and she dragged him down with her as her pussy spasmed around him. He drove into her, his final strokes clasped in the grip of her cunt as he came. He buried his face next to hers, whispering, "Mine, mine, mine." Over and over.
He lay next to her and ran his hands through her hair and down the contours of her face. How many times had he dreamed about this moment? Hell, how many times had he jerked off to this moment? His. She was his. There was no doubt in his mind. His hands wandered over her body, and she turned to face him.
"Why didn't we do that years ago?" she asked breathlessly, a sly smile curving along her lips.
"You wouldn't fucking listen to me years ago," he said.
"Maybe you should have just cuffed me to our squad car and spent some time convincing me."
"Shit, Taylor, the number of times I thought about just fucking that when we were sitting in some speed trap by the side of the highway or staking out some bastard’s house hoping to pick up his trash before the city did."
"That would have been a fun way to spend some of those endless hours." She rolled toward him, swung a leg over his thigh, and shimmied herself as close to him as she possibly could. He never wanted her to get dressed. He only wanted to feel her skin against his forever. He wouldn't let anything come between them again.
"We did seem to get the shittiest assignments. I think we were the only cops that ever had to sit in front of some murderer's house waiting for him to slip up and spit his gum out on the driveway."
"And then wait another ten hours until it was two a.m. before we could get out of our car to retrieve it without him noticing."
"I think we had at least three of those stakeouts," Shane said.
"Four," Taylor corrected. "And they’re all behind bars."
"Of course you would know that."
"I'd tell you my statistics as a detective, but they aren't as impressive."
"You could just go into the private sector like me," Shane said.
Taylor shook her head. "Nope. I mean maybe as a private detective? But probably not. I like solving the puzzles behind the crimes, and I'm sure a private detective’s work is like ninety-six percent taking pictures of cheating spouses. Why did you go into private security?"
"So I could have a personal life. And weekends off to fuck my ex-partner."
"Oh, so this is suddenly weekends, plural?"
"Taylor, there's no way you can look into my eyes right now and tell me that we don't have something. That you don't want to see me again… and again and again. That you don't want to wake up next to me tomorrow?"
His finger danced along her skin, and gooseflesh rose in its wake. And she held on to him tighter, bringing her mouth right up against his ear.
"I am very curious to see what other tricks you have up your sleeves," she whispered.
His cock throbbed. Her fevered breath sent a jolt of excitement through his body. They could negotiate their future later—there were still ten more hours until breakfast.
CHAPTER NINE
______________
TAYLOR
A loud crash jarred Taylor from her sleep. She grimaced as she struggled to open her eyes, battling against the blinding morning sun flowing in through the bay window. All this talk of beautiful sunsets, and the thought never occurred to her to figure out if those windows faced east or west.
“What was that?” she mumbled as she pressed herself against Shane and burrowed deeper under their pile of blankets; the fire had burned out long ago, and a chill had set in over the attic suite.
Shane didn't open his eyes but rolled over and pulled her naked body against his. “Probably Lars waking us up for breakfast.”
“By throwing the whole damn casserole at Paige’s door?”
She liked lying in his arms. Maybe a long-distance relationship was just the type of thing she needed to dip her toes into the Shane pool. Weekends spent in bed, away from the stress of her job, in the arms of one of her best friends. Distance makes the heart grow fonder. Maybe she needed that distance to truly appreciate him.
Or maybe Paige was right. Maybe she just needed to open her legs to open her heart. Taylor rolled her eyes involuntarily. She'd never let Paige know that she might have actually found some truth in her crazy logic.
"Breakfast in fifteen minutes!" Carson's voice came echoing up the stairs. "You have to pause from fucking. We're getting the next clue!"
“See,” Shane said. “We must have just caught the tail end of Lars’s wake-up call.”
Taylor threw back the covers and started to sit up, but Shane’s hand wrapped around her waist and pulled her back to the mattress. "We don't need food. Stay."
"But there's a new clue. And I haven't spent any time thinking about that poem. Someone's been distracting me."
"Paige probably stayed up all night with that poem. She had it in her hand when I went to her room for the wine."
Taylor narrowed her eyes. "You said she handed you the wine and then disappeared with Carson."
"I may have actively searched out Paige and the wine she was bringing you," he said sheepishly.
"Don't pretend like you're ashamed. Your scheme worked. But while devising a plan to get me here and then into my bed is cute today, you might want to not bend the truth from now on," she said, weaseling her way out of his arms.
"Roger that. In a few years, when I take you to France to propose, I’ll let you know all of my plans up front."
"All right, settle down," she said as she threw his pants at him. "Let's start with next weekend and worry about France later. And I want to go to Egypt first."
They dressed quickly and raced down the flights of stairs to join Carson and Paige at breakfast. The two entered the dining room to find Paige rifling through drawers in the china cabinet, while Carson sat across the room anxiously tapping his feet and sipping coffee.
"What's going on?" Taylor asked.
"She’s looking for the next clue." He raised his voice and glared at his girlfriend. "Harder than she needs to!" Carson turned back to Taylor. "All of those fucking dishes on the shelves are going to break if she keeps going at it like that. Stop her, please. She won't listen to me."
Taylor crossed the room and wedged herself between Paige and the cabinet. "Chill. I know you’re excited about the clue. But it's just going to be out in the open like the last one. Remember Lars's lecture about respecting shit?"
"Okay, but listen. I read this poem at least a hundred times last night, and I think this whole mystery isn’t what we think it is. I think that our man killed multiple people. Maybe ex-wives. Listen, 'She was mine, just like the rest.' And if we solve those murders, that’s how we solve his. And I want the next clue. I need to know."
"Let's sit down and eat first," Taylor said, guiding Paige to the table. "Also, the poem sounds like it's written by the murderer, not the victim. But I do get the murdered wives vibe, so maybe the killer had killed all of his previous wives and finally him? That's mistress all the way. But I don’t know why a mistress would lay claim to ex-wives; that makes no sense. Maybe if one of us was his child that would be motivation to kill people who could also inherit money, but a butler, maid, and bodyguard won't get any of his money."
"Yes. Agreed." Paige reached for a piece of bread and picked up some jam with her knife. "But what about her maid? Maybe you were o
bsessed with her or something. Maybe you fell in love with all of the ladies you served, and Carruthers found out?"
“Good morning, my friends,” Lars called out brightly, entering the dining room with a large platter of bacon and sausage. “I come bearing some locally sourced meat for your consumption, though meat was not in short supply last night. Am I right?” He winked at Paige. “Why didn’t you ask your friend to stay? This ain’t your grandma’s bed-and-breakfast—well, it is sometimes. But this week, it’s yours. You didn’t have to make your friend slip out and do a walk of shame.”
“What the hell is he talking about, Paige?” Taylor asked. “Shane saw you right before you turned in for the night.”
“I mean, come on, it wouldn’t be unheard of for us.” Paige looked at Carson, who wiggled his eyebrows puckishly. “But it was just the two of us last night. I don’t know what you’re talking about, Lars.”
Deep creases formed between his strawberry brows as he cocked his head to the side with his mouth slightly ajar. He stayed frozen. Just like that. His eyes staring into the distance. Taylor could almost see the cogs trying to turn, fighting against the THC haze.
“Huh, maybe Gabriel had some sort of special delivery. Pretty sure I saw someone in here this morning. Or maybe I just heard them. Or maybe it was a dream. Or maybe,” he said, raising a finger like he’d had a brilliant breakthrough, “it was the ghost of Mr. Carruthers!"
“Carry on. Dig in. I have a few more things to bring out.”
She was still on Shane’s lap, and he squeezed her hips as he let out a low, slow whistle. “All right, can you give me some sugar?"
Hot Pursuit- the Complete Collection Page 4