by Shandi Boyes
“That’s it, Harlow,” Cormack growls against my clit, tightening my core further.
He continues sucking, kissing, and biting my throbbing sex until the waves turning me into an irrational mess subdue to a gentle current. Only once every shudder has been exhausted does he withdraw his fingers. He stares at me as he pops his fingers into his mouth to clear away the evidence. His ocean blue eyes go a little murky, tainted by both lust and thirst.
The crazy thud of my heart turns dangerous when he presses kisses to the inside of my thigh, the top of my recently shaved pussy, and my squidgy stomach before he comes to a stop mere inches from my face. Having his gorgeous features presented directly in front of me so soon after climaxing nearly sends me falling through a lust cloud for the second time. And don’t get me started on the massive bulge protruding between his legs.
“I made myself crazy for weeks wondering what you taste like. Now that I know, I’ll have even more trouble sleeping.” The rasp of his voice is deliriously provocative. It is husky from his growls, but smooth from his wicked feast.
When his gaze finds mine, I look deeply into his sated blues. Anyone would swear he was the one who just succumbed to a toe-curling orgasm. His hair is disheveled from my fingers mussing it; his lips are swollen from both our kiss and his second helping of dessert, and his cheeks are flushed.
“You knew where I was; you were just trying to ignore. . . this.”
I can’t put into words the crazy ebb and flow sensation I feel every time he is in my presence, so I settle for a half-assed explanation.
“This?” His word is more a growl than a question. “We’re a this?”
“I guess?” Now my cheeks match Cormack’s, which is annoying since I don’t blush. “You did go down on me. That makes us more than a that, so yeah, we can go with this. If you want?”
My last question was so timid, I can’t be confident Cormack heard it. Thank god. I haven’t been presenting myself as a strong, independent woman all this time to have an orgasm undermine my campaign. It might have been the strongest orgasm I’ve ever had, but if I don’t keep Cormack on his toes, it may very well be my last. The fire between us is burning so ferociously, I’m worried it will extinguish long before I’ve had my fill. And although it’s way too early for me to say, I don’t think I’ll ever reach the pinnacle of satisfaction.
My confession has nothing to do with Cormack’s sexual capabilities. He just blew my mind in more ways than I can count. I just know the more time I spend with him, the more I want. Is that healthy? Is having an immediate obsession with someone sane? If you had asked me before I met Cormack, I would have said no. Now. . . I just hope I get out of this alive.
“I like the sound of this.” Cormack’s throaty purr restocks the wood in my furnace but also raises concerns.
Realizing no amount of hurt could take away from the emotions pumping into me, I reply, “Good, because I really enjoyed that.”
With a pleased grin, he traces the curves of my hungry mouth. A groan emits from his lips when his thumb dips precariously between mine. The strain on his face is anything but pleasant, but it is also the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. I can tell he is imagining that his thumb is his cock, and that I’m returning the favor he just bestowed on me.
The skin between his blond brows pinches when I scoot away from him. If he is worried I’m fleeing, he doesn’t need to be concerned. I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. I’m merely making his fantasy a reality.
After standing to my feet, I make my way to the thick rug in the middle of the room. I could blow both his mind and his cock from where he sits, but this is more dramatic, and I’m not known for ordinary.
The color on Cormack’s cheeks triples when I lower myself onto my knees. This time, his inflamed appearance has nothing to do with embarrassment.
“Don’t tempt me,” he warns in a growl, his hand shooting down to calm the rock behind his zipper. “I don’t know if I can hold back. Not with you like that. We need to talk. We’ve got matters to discuss.”
“Matters more urgent than this?” My nipples bud when a thrill of anticipation jolts down my spine. I’ve never been a fan of giving head before, but I’m dying with anticipation to have his cock between my lips.
“Possibly.” I can tell he wants to say more, he just can’t force words past the lust clamped around his throat.
I lick my lips yet remain as quiet as a church mouse. Just like he wouldn’t touch me without permission, I’ll do the same. If he wants this, he must come to me. If he wants this to be over, he just needs to stay where he is.
Slowly, almost panther-like, he prowls toward me. He doesn’t fiddle with his belt or lower his zipper, he merely devours me with his eyes, increasing the wetness my panties have no hope in hell of containing.
As his fingers weave through my messy locks, my eyes raise to his. “Do you want me to touch you, Cormack?”
“Yes,” he answers without pause as the bulge in his pants swells.
Faster than I can snap my fingers, I set to work on wrangling his pants into submission. My skills are as fluent as a lion tamer subduing a wild beast. Here it is; the moment I’ve been craving for weeks is about to transpire. I’m seconds away from ticking off every box in my ultimate book boyfriend compilation.
I’ve only lowered Cormack’s zipper halfway when a loud, obnoxious cough bellows into his quaint living room. I stumble back, landing on my skirt-covered backside with a sickening thud. Although my strapless bra is practically a crop top, my hands dart up to cover my heaving chest. I’m not embarrassed though; I’m just taken aback at the snarky laughter roaring through the intruder’s lips.
“Didn’t Daddy teach you anything? You don’t bring home strays no matter how pretty you think they are.”
My brow arches. Was that a compliment or an insult?
“Jesus Christ. Have you heard of knocking?” Cormack continues scolding his visitor without words as he does up his fly and snags my shirt from the floor.
“I did,” the sassy blonde fires back. “But with all the blood in your body rushing to your neither regions, I guess you didn’t hear me.”
I don’t know this lady, but I do know she is lying. Not only did her pitch escalate during her lie, so did her perfectly manicured brows.
After slipping my shirt over my head, I join Cormack at the side of his living room. My wish to teach his guest some manners flies out the window when I recognize the icy blue eyes and platinum blonde hair from the photo Cormack handed me earlier. She is his sister—Clara.
Although embarrassed about the situation she walked in on, we are all adults, so my worry doesn’t linger for long.
“Hi, Clara. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” I thrust out my hand in offering.
“Charmed, I’m sure. But do you mind?” The bitchiness in her tone shocks me. While leaving my greeting hanging, she glares at me like I am gum under her shoe. Or even worse, like I’m a prostitute. “I’d like to speak to my brother in private.”
Although I’d rather smack her than bend to her will, I dip my chin and spin on my heels. This isn’t my turf, so it isn’t my fight.
My attempts to leave are thwarted by Cormack’s hand darting out to seize my wrist. “Anything you want to say to me can be said in front of Harlow.”
Clara gasps, as outraged by his suggestion as I am pleased. “Seriously?”
Her stunned eyes dance between Cormack and me as her lips twitch. I can see a million thoughts streaming through her slit gaze, but not another word spills from her lips.
With their wordless war depleting oxygen from the air at a record-setting pace, I take a step back. I don’t want to come between them any more than I wish Clara would give me half a chance. I may not be dressed head-to-toe in designer clothing like she is, but my insides are invaluable.
Spotting my sneaky exodus, Cormack’s eyes drift to mine. Their narrowed appearance widens as the heat on his cheeks switches from anger to envy. “You’re my guest. Clar
a can wait—”
“It’s fine. Really. It’s late, and I have to be up before the sparrows.”
To retreat more, I need him to relinquish his grip on my wrist. He does, albeit hesitantly.
“Do you think Augustus could take me home or shall I call a taxi?”
A dash of modesty taints my blood. I really hope Augustus can take me home, because if he can’t, I’m going to be short for the fare. Cormack’s property is twenty miles from the nearest town. That’s an expense I can’t afford, not even with five credit cards in my purse. They were all maxed out paying my staff wages the past four months.
The surprises keep coming tonight when Cormack says, “I’ll drive you home.”
“You drive?” My reply is rude, but my excitement at learning he is human delivers it more playfully.
Cormack’s boyish grin makes me wish we were alone. “Yes, I drive. I command the road very well, thank you very much.”
Is it possible to climax without stimulation? Because I think that just happened to me. It wasn’t what Cormack said; it was the way he said it. Gone is the refined businessman with cute nervous traits, replaced with a man who is equally intriguing and sexy. I don’t know if our tussle on the couch is responsible for his newfound confidence, but I’m going to claim it. I like this side of him. Confidence suits him. He should wear it more often.
The heat of Cormack’s breath fans my lips when he asks, “Do you want to test my skills?” The throaty hum of his words makes it sound as if he is offering more than just a ride home.
Incapable of speaking due to insane horniness scorching my veins, I nod. With a wink that reveals he spotted my thighs faint press, Cormack curls his hand around mine and guides me to the foyer of his home. His palm is just as sweaty as mine, his pulse just as high.
If his sister wasn’t glowering at us, I’d drop my eyes to his pants to verify it isn’t just his heart rate rising. I don’t need to see his crotch to know he’s hard, though. The vivacity in the air answers my wicked question, much less the electricity sparking every nerve in my body.
“Cormack—”
The rest of Clara’s comment lodges in her throat when Cormack shoots her a vicious sideways glare. “I’ll be back in an hour. I’m sure anything you need to tell me can wait until then.”
A smile creeps onto my mouth when Clara stomps her foot. She’s dressed in a pricey designer dress and Jimmy Choo shoes, acting like a spoiled brat does when they’re told they can’t have something.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Clara.” My tone is friendly even though I am feeling anything but.
I’m not angry at Clara; I’m just frustrated at her poor timing. I was seconds from greatness. You can’t get more devastating than that.
Clara doesn’t reply to my farewell, unless an eyeroll could be considered an amicable goodbye?
“I thought Cate was the youngest member of your family?” My words are separated by deep pants. I’m still recovering from a knee-wobbling orgasm; I should not be galloping down a set of stairs.
Cormack chuckles. “I’ve asked Clara that exact question many times the past six years.”
Although Cormack is clearly not a fan of family Q & A, I can’t leash my curiosity. His exchange with his sister was bizarre. She seemed to be coming to him for help, but she appeared annoyed at the prospect.
“Did you take on a parental role to your siblings when your father passed?”
Cormack screws up his face. “I tried with Cate and Colby, but there is no helping Clara.” Although he appears to be hanging her out to dry, he clearly loves his sister, even if she is a tack in his backside.
As we walk through the tree-studded land at the side of his house, I could continue my interrogation, but since he just had his mouth on my pussy and was seconds away from having his cock sucked, I save my questions for another day. I want him to open up to me, but not when he is hazed by lust.
When we enter a three-car garage at the end of a cobbled drive, I yank out of Cormack’s grasp. It isn’t a lack of oxygen encouraging my wish to flee this time around; it is the death trap he is leading me toward.
“Uh-uh. Hell no. That is not happening.”
Ignoring my sworn pledge as if it was delivered in jest, Cormack paces closer to a bright red motorbike. It’s not one of those large-wheeled bikes Brax gets around on. It is sleek, modern, and looks like it goes from 0 to 100 in under two seconds.
“I’ll walk home. It’s a nice night. I could use the exercise. . .”
My words muffle when Cormack places a helmet on my head. After flipping up the visor, he sets to work on securing the straps under my chin.
“Is this a good idea? I’m certain I read somewhere that you should never get on a bike with a person you’ve known less than a year. It might have been written by me in my dating rule book, but that doesn’t make it any less wise.”
“You have a dating rule book?”
I sock Cormack in his stomach for the ridicule in his tone. “It’s a very informative book. I’ve read it front to back three times this month alone.”
His face whitens as his gills go green, mirroring my expression to a T.
“Don’t dis something until you’ve tried it. Being a single woman in this world is hard.” My words are forced through the lump in my throat.
I trust Cormack, but this steps over the level of trust I bequeath strangers. He may have brought me to orgasm, but that doesn’t give him a free pass. He still has to work up to the ultimate level of trust.
“You think being a woman is hard, try being a man. If that isn’t daunting enough, be a successful one.”
I’m left wondering how to take his reply. He didn’t mention my name, but since it followed my comment on dating, the successful part stung a little.
“I’ve owned my bakery since I was nineteen. I’m successful.”
Cormack stops fiddling with the straps of my helmet to lift his eyes to mine. “I never said you weren’t.”
“You kind of implied it.” I shrug, praying it will conceal the fresh injuries my ego is sporting. “Only last year, my bakery was thriving. Times are tough now, but once I guide it through the storm, it will come out the other end stronger than ever. It’s bound to pick up. Surely?”
I don’t know why my last word came out as a question. It is probably because months of deliberation haven’t eased my confusion. I want to blame my bakery’s demise solely on Ravenshoe’s surging property prices, but that’s been occurring for years now. My slump has only been the past year.
I stop staring into space when Cormack says, “It will pick up.” His tone is a unique mix of determination and unease. “It’s tough for everyone at the moment, but I’m sure you’re through the worst of it. Your cupcakes are like crack; you’ll soon have the entire town addicted.”
The pride in his tone leads me to mount his motorbike without a butterfly in my stomach. I’ve already trudged through my darkest days, so I’m positive the worst is behind me. Furthermore, Cormack is brimming with so much confidence tonight, I trust that he’ll never put me in danger.
After donning a matching helmet, only two sizes larger and covered with dust, Cormack takes his place on his bike. I scoot in close to his back and wrap my arms around his waist. He hasn’t even kicked over his motor yet, but my body is thrumming. It isn’t nerves, just palpable excitement.
“Are you ready?!” Cormack shouts, his words barely heard over the hearty rumble of his motor.
“No!” I shout, shaking my head so fiercely my brain rattles. “But that isn’t going to stop you, is it?”
His love of the throttle swallows any reply he is planning to give.
Chapter Ten
Cormack
The girly squeals Harlow releases as I weave my bike through narrow roads makes me feel invincible. For a woman who was petrified to get on my bike only thirty minutes ago, she is screaming without fear. She is loving the wind whipping through her core as much as I do. Negativity, a tough week, or a
ny other neurosis that gets me down is null and void when I’m riding my bike.
Thank fuck, as I really need it after my performance tonight.
Have you ever wanted something so bad, you’d give up the entire world to have it? That is what I faced when Harlow knelt in front of me. She was far enough away her spell on me had diminished, but not far enough to quell my needs. I barely know her, but I crave her more than my next breath—unequivocally and without restraint.
Her being on the back of my bike proves this without a doubt.
No one sees this side of me. This is my go-to activity when I’m seeking solace. But I want Harlow to be a part of my downtime, so including her in activities solely reserved for me feels right. I should tell her the truth. I should explain that the downfall of her business is not her fault, but every time I try to tell her, she either steals the air from my lungs, or she rams my confession into the back of my throat with her tongue.
I will admit, part of me doesn’t want her to know my secret. A dimwit would say I haven’t yet sampled all her goods, so I’m lying to ensure I don’t miss out, but that isn’t the case. I may blush like a fool when her beauty doubles my heart rate, but my lack of honesty isn’t about getting into her panties. It is about losing her altogether.
My mom was a fighter. She fought dementia with the strength of a warrior, so you can be assured I am familiar with strong, determined women. The instant Harlow discovers I instigated the demise of her business, she’ll never speak to me again. I’m hoping by showing her a side of me no one else gets to experience, she won’t instantly run for the hills when I disclose my interest in her bakery.
When we reach the street Harlow’s business is located on, I lower the revs on my bike. Although I said I’d drive her home, she was only a few streets from her bakery when I discovered her down the alleyway, so I’m assuming her car is parked out back.