by Stacy Gail
“There,” she whispered against his mouth. “Safe.”
“You're always going to be safe with me, Syd,” he said, moving deeper into the apartment. To her surprise, he didn’t let her down as he headed toward the couch. “I'm both your knight and your castle keep. If anyone comes gunning for you, they're going to have to get past me first. That's something they’ll never survive.”
Her throat tightened almost painfully, and she leaned in to kiss him, as if to seal the deal. “When I bumped into you that first day, I had no idea I was bumping into my hero.”
“Should’ve happened sooner.” He lowered her bottom onto the back of the couch as he spoke, freeing his hands to mess with the fastenings of her dress. “Better late than never, I guess, but I reserve the right to be pissed off that you kept yourself and all that you are from me for so long.”
“Noted.” Her breath caught as he finally figured out how the wraparound dress worked. Slowly he peeled it from her to leave her in nothing but her bra, matching panties and heels, and mentally she thanked Zemi for the lingerie advice. “Hope you’re not the kind of man who holds a grudge.”
“Baby, you kept yourself from me for weeks, which means you stopped me from discovering all the beauty you hold inside you. No man in his right mind would blame me for holding a damn grudge for at least a little while.” After tossing her dress aside, he eased her back onto the edge of the couch’s backrest so he could ease her shoes off. His hands remained on her ankles before they slowly slid up to her bare knees, which he spread apart while looking into her eyes. “Long story short, you have a lot to make up for on that score, Sydney Bishop.”
If she didn’t drop dead from a heart attack in the next few seconds, it would be a freaking miracle. “What can I do to make it up to you, my darling man?”
“Darling man.” His lips quirked even as his hands drifted farther up, leaving her knees behind to explore the sensitive terrain of her thighs. “First, you can keep that shit up, because I like you claiming me as your man. Second, you just sit back and take whatever the hell I want to do with you.”
Her heart executed a perfect cartwheel. “What do you want to do with me?”
“I’m surprised you can’t guess.” His smile was still in place as he moved in for a quick, hungry kiss that left her wanting more. “I want to show you exactly what you’ve been missing all these weeks. I’m going to break your heart over all those lost moments we could’ve been sharing, while at the same time healing it back up by giving you the greatest orgasm you’ve ever known. Basically, I’m taking you on a rollercoaster ride, Syd, and it starts now. Feel free to scream at the best parts.”
“You think you’re that good at… oh.” Words drained out of her brain when he deliberately brushed the back of his fingers against that soft, satin-covered place between her legs. Automatically her legs opened wider, an invitation that didn’t need any words. “I forgot what I was saying. Where were we?”
“You. Screaming. But I think we’re done talking. It’s time to make my point in other, more meaningful ways.” With that, he slipped a hand inside her panties.
Whoa.
“That’s meaningful, don’t you think?” His arrogant tone should have made her what to slug him, but she was too busy wallowing in the moment as he cupped her sex. “But it could be more meaningful. Let’s see what I can do about that.”
“Yes, please.” The last word ended on another, sharper gasp as he slid a finger into her cleft and rubbed against the pulsing nub of her clit.
“So wet,” he murmured, and the delight threading through his words thrilled her even as he stroked her channel until she moaned. Her eyes closed as his hand worked her, because the pleasure ballooned so fiercely all she could do was hold on and hope she didn’t explode with it. “My sexy, fun-sized Sydney. I make you wet, don’t I?”
“You know you do.” And she couldn’t even check him for gloating. When the man was right, he was right.
“I get crazy-hard whenever I’m around you, so I get it. Can’t tell you how fucking uncomfortable I’ve been the past seventy-two hours. Imagine, a three-day hard-on with no relief in sight. Until now.” As he spoke, he circled and circled her clit, never fully stroking it, but pressing with enough pressure make her hips roll with increasing urgency. “That’s it, baby. Ride my hand and help me finger-fuck you until you scream.”
That sounded great to her. There was just one problem that had to be dealt with. “This girl’s not screaming until you’re naked, so you need to do something about that ASAP.”
A laugh escaped him as his free hand went for his belt buckle. “Give me some help, baby. I don’t want to stop playing with this beautiful pussy of yours, and I can guarantee you don’t want me to stop, either.”
How well he knew her already.
It took longer than usual to get her hands to do what her brain commanded, mainly because the relentless pleasure his stroking gave her. But finally she was able to get his pants undone, along with the buttons of his shirt. She almost cried when he took his hand from her cleft, but it was only to remove her bra and panties and shrug out of his shirt. Before he kicked his pants out of the way, he snagged up his wallet and got a condom out.
“Can't wait until there's nothing between my cock and your pussy. Even now, you're going to feel like every heaven known to man. I get inside you, and I'm never going to want to leave.” His voice, so deliciously rough, made her shiver as he once again gave the cleft between her thighs his full attention, this time his thumb pressing against her clit while he searched for and found her threshold.
Her breathing came to an abrupt, squeaky stop when he inserted a finger inside her and pressed up to where his thumb worked her. Pleasure shot through her so hard it made her dizzy; she sat fully on the couch’s backrest, doing everything she could to give him better access. “Styx.”
“You’re so damn ready for me. I love that, Syd, I really do.” He kissed her again, and his free hand caught hers to press the condom into her palm. “You want me inside you, baby?”
Dear God, she’d never wanted anything more. “Yes.”
“Then get my cock out, put that rubber on, and get ready to be fucked like never before.”
“God.” She’d never had anyone speak like that to her before. She loved it so much a shiver of near-completion rippled through her, and she realized just how close she was to the edge. Frantically she pushed his boxer-briefs down, fumbled the condom packet open and took out the circle of Latex. “The things you say…they’re even better than your magic kisses.”
“Magic kisses?” His low chuckle cut off with a sharp intake of breath as she wrapped her fingers around his hot, stiff flesh—good grief, the girth and length of his cock was something to behold—and rolled the protection on. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Your kisses make me instantly wet and ready for sex.” She had to consciously remind herself to breathe as he at last took his hand from her cleft and pulled her thighs wider apart. Finally. “But your words… I swear, I think you might have the power to make me come with words alone.”
“My little Fun-Size likes dirty talk. Good to know.” He hitched her legs higher, encouraging her to wrap him up around his hips as he at last positioned his cock at her threshold. “You ready for a first-rate fucking, baby?”
Her intimate folds pulsed and ached all the more at that. “I was born ready for you.”
“And I was born to fuck you,” he gritted from between his teeth before surging inside her.
“Styx. Oh God, Styx.” She'd known his cock was thick, too thick to fully wrap her fingers all the way around. But knowing and feeling were two very different things as his penetration stretched her inner walls to the point where she half-feared he was too much for her. Then her body adjusted, and with that adjustment came a resurgence of pleasure so intense she couldn’t stop it from ballooning beyond her control. Her legs tightened around him, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted to feel all of him ins
ide her, and being face-to-face wasn’t quite getting it.
“All of you.” She wasn’t even conscious of the words flowing out of her, as she gripped his ass and pulled him in harder. “I want all of you inside me.”
“I know what you want.” That assurance was accompanied by harder thrusts that shook her world. Her kissed her again before leaning hard into her, and she had to grip his shoulders to keep from free-falling backwards.
“Styx—”
“Grip me hard with your legs, baby.” He held her hips in place while relentlessly pushing her torso down, down, down, until the back of her shoulders and head rested against the couch’s seat cushions, and she was virtually upside-down. Once she was in place and in no danger of falling, one of his hands then left her hip to once again explore her channel, unerringly rubbing against her clit.
It was like throwing a match into a vat of gasoline.
An explosion of sensation hit her all at once, transforming every part of her body and soul. It wasn’t just an orgasm. It was a life-altering event, the kind that changed human existence and moved the course of galaxies.
Until that moment, she'd never known sex could be so profound.
The pleasure hadn't even begun to ebb when he thrust more powerfully into her—two, three times on a jagged groan that reverberated around the room. That sound of complete satisfaction was almost enough to send her over the edge all over again.
She wasn’t sure how long she lay there, her butt still resting on the couch’s backrest, her body connected with his while her head almost hung off the couch’s seat cushions, but she could have stayed there forever in that surprisingly comfortable position if he hadn’t at last stirred.
“Upside-down.” The humor in his tone made her drag her eyes open—exhausted satisfaction had made it impossible to keep them open—only to find him grinning down at her. “Damn, woman. You really are the most flexible person I’ve ever known.”
“The Kama Sutra’s got nothing on us.” Still breathless and feeling ragdoll-boneless, she let him haul her back up to a vertical position, and she almost cried when his cock gently slipped from her. “I honestly don’t know how we’re ever going to top that.”
“It sure as hell is going to be a blast trying,” he said with such anticipation she couldn’t help but laugh.
Chapter Thirteen
“Question number twenty-two…”
“I can’t believe you were able to even think of twenty-two questions to ask about me, much less that you wrote them all down.” Styx wandered back into the bedroom to hand Sydney a longneck, then lowered himself onto the bed beside her. She looked too damn cute for words, wearing nothing but his shirt, her hair wild as she sat curled up against the pillows. At some point they’d made it back to his room where they’d continued to discover that, at least from a physical standpoint, they were hotter than all the fireworks on New Year’s going off at once.
Sex wasn’t just sex with Sydney. It was a frigging adventure.
“You think I stopped at twenty-two? I’ve got about fifty questions stored in here. I believe in being thorough.” She gave him a smile of thanks as she accepted her drink before turning her attention back to her phone. “Okay, question twenty-two… Have you ever gone camping, and if so, why?”
“Why?” He snorted as he propped a pillow against the headboard, then pulled her over to lean against him. “Most people would normally ask where a person’s gone camping, maybe even for how long. But why? You gotta explain that one to me.”
“I’m an urban girl. I can’t imagine why anyone would voluntarily go out into the wilds away from indoor plumbing, electricity and reliable Wi-Fi, and then have the audacity to call it fun. The question is valid.”
“Well, when you put it that way,” he drawled, dropping a kiss on the top of her head. “For the record, I’ve never been camping, though every year on Father’s Day, my family meets up in Humboldt Park for a day of fishing, picnicking and just hanging out drinking beer and listening to Tina’s husband burp.”
“Ew.”
“My mom and sister love feeding the ducks, and I once saw a bunny there,” he thought it prudent to add. “Does that count as camping?”
“If that’s camping, then I’m all for it.” There was a smile in her voice as she snuggled closer, and he ran a lazy hand down her back in search of the shirt’s hem. It had to be there somewhere… “Question number twenty-three—who were your best friends growing up, and who are your best friends now?”
“I guess my best friend’s always been Trey, even when he’s tempting me to rip his head off. But he’s the guy who always knows where I am, how I am, what I’m doing and how I’m doing it. Maybe that’s a twin thing, or maybe that’s just what it is to have a best friend you trust completely.”
She tilted her head back against his shoulder to smile up at him. “That’s kind of beautiful. I wish I was that close to my sisters, but I don’t think they ever fully forgave me for going to school abroad. Up to that point, the three of us were like this tight-knit group that was quietly united against our parents. We could be totally honest and let it all hang out in front of each other, and there was never any judgment. Then I went as far away from my parents as I could get when they made me quit dancing, and that distanced me from my sisters. I’ve never been able to recapture the closeness we once had.”
“They don’t still live in Chicago, do they?”
She shook her head as she set her phone aside. “Roma lives in Florida, and London’s wherever her employers are, though her official home base is Chicago.”
“So if they’re not in Chicago now, why be pissy with you?”
“They’re not pissy, exactly. At least, not anymore. I suppose that at the time, they felt my leaving was a betrayal on some personal level, but I have no regrets. I also believe that when I made a break for it, they realized it was possible for them to get out as well, so I don’t feel I have anything to apologize for.”
“That’s good to hear.” Taking the longneck from her when she offered it, he took a swig before setting it on the bedside table and pulling her up to straddle his lap. “That whole stress-apologizing thing you’ve got going on makes me want to kick the crap out of your parents for planting that feeling in you—the feeling that you have to apologize for who and what you are. I know that feeling’s got deep roots, baby, but you should know I won’t rest until I’ve ripped every last bit of that shit out.”
Her smile was more like a grimace. “As far back as I can remember, I felt the need to apologize to my mother. She’s the epitome of a perfectionist, and I’m hopelessly flawed. See the problem in that equation?”
“What I see is a woman who’s fascinating and confounding, quick-witted and sharp-tongued,” he said, and watched the surprise and something much warmer bloom in her expression. “You’re as beautiful on the inside as you are on the outside, and the gliding way you move makes me think you’re some kind of goddess among mortals. Thing is, though, you’re my goddess, the woman who makes me hard just by walking across a room, so no one gets to make you feel like you should apologize for existing. Magnificence like you shouldn’t apologize for the shortcomings of others.”
Her sapphire eyes widened before a sheen of tears made them glitter. “Did you really just say that?”
“Yeah. Meant it, too. Every damn word, so I don’t want to hear any more apologizing from you, yeah?” While one hand continued to explore for the shirt’s hem, he raised the other to sift his fingers through her thick hair. “Never forget that all those things you call flaws make you perfect in my eyes.”
Her hands came to press against his bare chest. “You know that doesn’t make sense, right?”
“I wouldn’t know what the hell to do with a woman who believed she was perfect. No, wait,” he corrected himself while her hands began to idly caress his chest and shoulders. “I know exactly what I’d do with a woman who thought she was perfect. I’d avoid her ass like the toxic mess she is, because no one
’s perfect, Syd. I love whatever flaws you’ve got going on, just like I love all my fucked-up flaws. They’re what make us, us.”
“You know what I love? These tattoos,” she murmured, her voice turning husky in a way that he loved, and he let his eyes drift closed as she traced the patterns along his chest. “I get the police badge and blue lineup of cops along your arms and shoulders, but what about all the nautical-themed art?”
“My uncle owns and operates a small boat building company down near Whiting. From the time we were thirteen or so, Trey and I worked there every summer, building everything from sailboats to yachts—hell, everything you can imagine that’s sea-worthy. That was around the time I fell in love with boating.”
“Sounds like a fun job.”
“It was, even though every day you got so grimy and sweaty the thought of taking a shower was enough to bring a tear to the eye. The best part about that job was taking the finished products out and running them through their paces to make sure they were solid.”
“Sounds amazing. I’ve lived next to one of the Great Lakes pretty much my whole life, yet I’ve never once been on a boat.”
“You’re shitting me.” He opened his eyes to stare at her in unvarnished shock. “I didn’t even know that was possible.”
“Well, it is.”
“I can’t allow that to stand, babe, not when I can do something about it. I’ve got a forty-foot power cruiser tucked away in the harbor at Jackson Park, out by the old Coast Guard station. My uncle and I put her together ourselves, so you know every inch of her is solid. No self-respecting native Chicagoan gets through life without getting out on the water at least once. You like fishing?”