by Evelyn Adams
Pressing down with his hand on her throat, he held her in place on the pillow, his hand tight enough to take control but not enough to hurt her. She opened her mouth for him, reaching for him with the flat of her tongue, and he thrust inside, fucking her mouth. He only managed a few strokes with his cock in her hot mouth before he felt the orgasm bearing down on him.
He pulled out, running his thumb across her jaw. He had no intention of coming until he’d fucked her everywhere. Pressing a quick kiss to her lips, red from the punishing strokes of his cock, he moved down her body to kneel between her legs. Looking into her eyes, seeing how eager she was to take him after everything he’d done to her, had him counting his breaths and fighting for control.
“Please, baby,” she said, her voice breathless, and her eyes glassy with desire. “I need you now. Please, fuck me, please.”
He pushed aside the feelings – the hunger – her words aroused in him and gripping his cock still slick from her mouth, he ran the head along her seam before pressing himself against her swollen opening. Keeping his gaze locked on her face, trying desperately to concentrate more on her reactions than his need, he cupped her ass with his palms, angling her so he could slide inside. With one smooth stroke, he thrust deep, his balls nudging her ass.
Her eyes fluttered and her breath went out on a long sigh. With her gaze locked on his, he could see she felt it too. The perfect completion. The way their bodies fit together like two halves of the same whole. It stole his reason, the overwhelming rightness of his body wedded to Claire’s. Grasping for control, for anything that would keep him from losing himself inside her, he started to move, sliding out before thrusting back inside her.
“Fuck, Claire. My fucking God, you’re so tight. So good.” He groaned with the effort of holding on long enough to give her one more orgasm, but it was a battle he was losing.
“So full. Feels so full,” she said. “Untie me. I need...oh, God, untie me.”
Grateful for the distraction and needing to be sure she was okay, he stilled, keeping his cock lodged inside her tight pussy, pulling back enough to reach the belt. He opened the buckle and scrambled with the silk tie, finally managing to work the knot loose. As soon as she was free, Claire wrapped herself around him, her legs locked around his hips, and her hands ran over his body like she was starving for him. When he looked down there were tears shining in her eyes and he saw every honest emotion he felt reflected in her eyes.
His breath locked in his throat. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was supposed to be fucking her, not loving her, but he couldn’t look in her eyes with his body moving inside hers and lie to himself.
“Get on your hands and knees, baby. I want that sweet ass,” he said, desperate to regain control.
She blinked at him, momentarily frozen in place, but when he pulled out of her she hurried to comply, wobbling a bit on her unused limbs. Steadying her with his hand on her hip, he gripped the base of the plug and pulled it free of her, replacing it with his cock. He was so hard and she was so ready, he thrust inside her and started to fuck her with long punishing strokes.
HER BODY WAS limp, spent, completely worn out and at the same time desperate and needy. Every nerve in her body was alive but with pleasure not pain. When he slid the plug from her body, she’d been overwhelmed with a feeling of relief and loss and then when he slid his cock in its place every thought and feeling she had dissolved, lost in the sensation of his body mastering hers. She pressed her face into the white sheets and arched her back for him, her still tender nipples rubbing the smooth cotton, winding her tighter with each thrust.
His hands gripped her hips, his fingers digging in hard enough to leave marks. And she loved it. She wanted him to mark her. To own her. To take everything she offered him and more. Matching his rhythm she pushed back to meet him thrust for thrust as he drove them both to the edge of reason. She was hungry, aching, needy, consumed. Wanton.
She felt his thrusts grow erratic, and she reached between her legs to slip her fingers through her slick sex to stroke her clit. She felt her climax pull closer with each circle of her fingertips over the sensitive bundles of nerves.
“That’s it. Fuck yeah, baby,” Luke said, his voice ragged as he took them higher, spiraling to a peak she’d never seen before. “Come for me, Claire.”
She felt his cock twitch and pulse, emptying inside her and that was all it took to throw her over the edge. She was falling, her body tightening around his as her breath caught in her throat, and her vision dimmed, stars flashing behind her eyes.
SHE WAS SO spent; she could barely stand, her muscles limp with pleasure. Luke helped her to the bathroom and turned on the shower but instead of joining her under the hot spray, he kissed her cheek and left. Thinking he’d be waiting for her in the bedroom, she washed quickly careful to avoid the jets which came out of the walls on her overly sensitive skin. She managed to rinse herself clean without getting her hair wet. Climbing out of the shower on still shaky legs, she wrapped herself in one of the big white terry bath sheets hanging on the hook by the door.
When she went back to the bedroom instead of finding Luke, she found a made bed and no evidence of what they’d done together. It shouldn’t matter. He’d made the bed and cleaned up the toys, but for some reason it made her feel lonely and slightly unmoored. After everything they’d done, all the times he’d made her come, she thought they would at least cuddle.
Get a grip, Claire, she thought. After giving her so many orgasms she lost count, it wasn’t like he was going to run away from her. As she looked at the tidy pile of her ruined clothing on the chair in the corner, it struck her how handy it would be to have a few things at Luke’s place if she was going to be staying there. Not moving in together kind of stuff, but she didn’t even have a pair of panties. There was no way she was putting on the old ones.
Opening the top drawer of Luke’s dresser she found a T-shirt long enough to feel more like a dress. She slipped on her bra and pulled the shirt over her head. There was nothing to be done about the panties – or lack of them – but at least in the shirt she didn’t feel naked. She padded down the hallway in her bare feet, still moving carefully on her jelly muscles. Luke was sitting at the kitchen counter, sipping a cup of coffee. He gave her a smile and tension she hadn’t realized she was carrying slipped free.
“Are you hungry?” he said, climbing off the bar stool and heading to the refrigerator.
“Starving,” she said, realizing she was. She’d been tired until he mentioned food. Now it was hard to think of anything else.
“I’ve got something Eric sent over.” He pulled what looked like Bento boxes out of the refrigerator and popped open the lids to peer inside. “I’m not sure what it is, but it smells good.”
“If it came from Comme Ci, I’m sure it is.” Not many people referred to celebrity chef Eric Auxtres as just Eric or had a refrigerator full of food the world renowned chef had made. But Luke and Eric had been friends for years. Apparently close friends if Eric’s reaction when he’d met her had been any indication. She liked the cocky chef, and she’d gotten the impression he liked her and would like to know her much better. He hadn’t acted like he expected Luke to have a problem with that, but it could have just been harmless flirting. It probably was.
She shook her head to clear it. Her fuckfest with Luke had obviously turned on the sex obsessed center of her brain.
“Can I help?”
“You can grab the wine if you want. There should be a bottle of du Martray Chardonnay in the wine fridge. That would probably go with this,” he said, sliding the containers into the microwave.
She couldn’t hold back the laughter that bubbled out. They were going to eat Chef Auxtres’ food from the microwave. It was kind of like printing the Mona Lisa on the backs of playing cards.
“What’s so funny?” he asked. “Eric’s sommelier keeps me stocked.”
“It’s not that,” she said, stifling a giggle. “Nothing really. It’s ju
st the microwave.” She rested her hands on her chin and grinned.
“You can’t tell him. The cocky French bastard won’t let me forget it. I’ll hear about it forever. Or worse, he’ll cut me off for disrespecting ze food.” He said the last bit with a horrible over the top French accent and Claire laughed out loud.
“I won’t say a word. But if he does cut you off, I could probably get you the goods.” She narrowed her eyes appraisingly and then gave him a wink.
“Sweetheart, I don’t doubt that for a moment,” he said, shaking his head. “The wine?”
She squeezed past him to get to the wine fridge and when she bent to retrieve the bottle, he smacked her ass.
“Hey!” she said with a yelp.
“Just trying to get my hand on the goods,” he said with a grin. “I like you in my shirt. I like it even better because that’s all you’re wearing.” He let his fingers dip under the soft cotton and cupped her naked butt. “Much better.” He hauled her against him and kissed her, all heat and hunger.
“Uncle,” she said when he finally let her go. “I’m calling uncle. I can’t have another orgasm.”
His grin was wicked, tightening something low in her belly. “Oh yes you can. I never did get out the Hitachi.” He leaned closer, tugging on her earlobe with his teeth. “I could tie you open, press the round head against your clit and make you come so many times you’d forget your name.”
His words and the way his hot breath fanned her tender skin sent a shiver running through her body. God help her, but with the effect he had on her she didn’t think there was anything she wouldn’t let him do. Being that much at the mercy of his pleasure and hers when her heart was already so vulnerable scared her, more than she was comfortable admitting.
“Maybe I’ll tie you up for a change,” she said knowing full well he’d never let her do it. She may not know everything about Luke Masters, but she knew he was a man who controlled every situation. She wouldn’t be surprised if the weather answered to his commands.
“Not likely, sweetheart,” he said, letting her go with a soft press of his lips to her temple.
She scooted around the counter, taking the corkscrew from him when he offered it. By the time she’d cut the foil and pulled the cork, Luke had set wine glasses in front of her. She poured the wine and then eased herself onto the barstool, tugging the T-shirt down to cover her naked butt. She caught him smiling at her as she wrestled to stay covered.
“It’s not funny,” she said, shaking her head.
“Yeah, it kind of is.” He set the boxes with Eric’s food on the counter in front of her and took his place on the stool beside her.
“It doesn’t matter. I can’t put my panties back on and I don’t have anything else here to wear.” She let the statement hang in the air between them. She wasn’t about to ask him if she could leave some clothes at his place, but this was the time when he could offer.
He didn’t. Instead he dug into the food with such enthusiasm, she wondered if he was deliberately avoiding meeting her gaze. They shared a fantastic ratatouille which hadn’t suffered much in the microwave and a chicken dish which had. But even reheated and turned into rubber, Eric’s food was so much better than most of what she ate. By the time they’d emptied the containers and their wine glasses, Claire was struggling to keep her eyes open.
“Tired?” he asked when she couldn’t hide her yawn any longer.
“Multiple screaming orgasms will do that,” she said with a nod.
“Go ahead to bed.” He cleared the dishes, dropping everything in the sink. He came back around the counter and pressed a kiss to the center of her forehead. “I’ll be there in a little while. I’ve got some work to do first.”
Knowing how much time he’d already taken away from work made her feel guilty. He hadn’t built his empire working part time, and for as hard as he played, she didn’t think he did it often. And now there was the trouble at the jobsite. God, the funeral felt like days ago instead of hours. She thought about Pete and about Maria going to bed without him and she had to blink hard to keep from crying again.
“Are you okay?” he asked, lifting her chin to force her to meet his gaze.
“I’m fine,” she said, willing away the tears. She didn’t want to cry anymore. Not tonight. Not after everything they’d done. All the pleasure he’d given her. But she was feeling raw. “I think the day is finally catching up with me.”
“Go to bed. I won’t be long,” he said, brushing a kiss over her lips.
She went down the hallway to his bedroom, but when she climbed into the bed where he’d had her screaming as orgasm after orgasm rolled through her just an hour earlier, she couldn’t help but feel a little sad. For as hot and physically overwhelming everything they’d done together had been, it had left her nowhere near emotionally satisfied. If anything the stress of the day had left her longing for a deeper connection.
But as her head hit the pillow and sleep claimed her, she worried that she was the only one.
LUKE SHOVED ASIDE HIS EMPTY coffee cup with a growl. Two hours of emails and spreadsheets had done nothing to improve his foul mood since he’d climbed out of bed, leaving a sleeping Claire warm and soft behind him. He’d hated coming to bed after she’d already fallen asleep, and he hated even more leaving his bed before she woke up. The fact he loved how she curled into him, her body seeking him even in sleep made it that much harder. Those were dangerous feelings and ones he’d given far too much play. Knowing he needed some distance and fast didn’t keep him from turning into a frustrated bastard.
Maybe if she wasn’t in his space, maybe then he could get her out from under his skin. The thought made him angrier. He wasn’t sure how they’d ended up spending every night together but he’d already gotten too comfortable with the arrangement. His auburn haired electrical contractor was too fucking addictive.
With the thought came the image of her naked, bound open and aching for him, and his cock shot to iron hard. He’d gotten too used to starting his day inside her. He’d tried to shift things back to just fucking but it only made things worse. Taking her over the edge again and again had been amazing, but instead of the control he usually felt when he had a woman tied up and open for him, it felt like Claire still had all the power. The way she’d let him take her any way he wanted to, the openness with which she gave herself to him, it undid everything he thought he knew.
She wasn’t just some arm candy who wanted his money and was willing to trade a quick fuck – hell a long one for that matter – to get it. Claire was strong, capable, smart and sexier than any woman he’d ever been with. That she’d trusted him, willingly offering all of herself to him without holding anything back practically took him to his knees.
And it wasn’t going to work. She was a thousand times braver than he was. Loving Claire – fuck he couldn’t believe he was even thinking it – and losing her would destroy him. He didn’t think he’d survive and surviving was one of the things he did best. The risk was unacceptable.
Without bothering to check the time, he dialed his phone and waited two rings until Jackson picked up. The extra ring was the only concession his head of security made to the early hour.
“Please, tell me you know something,” snapped Luke, more than happy to share his shitty mood with someone he paid to put up with it.
“Nothing concrete,” said other man after a brief pause. “I still haven’t been able to make a connection between what happened at Ms. English’s property and the death at the Ashton Court site.”
“So you still don’t know if she’s the target or if someone is messing with my jobsite or if it was an accident?”
“No.”
Luke could tell by the tone of his voice it cost Jackson something to say it but he appreciated the honesty.
“There haven’t been any real problems on your jobs before, have there? Something that didn’t seem important enough to mention?” asked Jackson.
“Nothing that I can think of. You’ve
handled security when I’ve needed it on all the recent ones.” But as he said it, Luke thought about Sparks and his incredulity at the minor thefts on the jobsite. It was easy to discount the construction manager’s concerns as brown nosing or worse dishonesty, but what if it wasn’t? In light of everything that happened, he’d at least have to take a second look at things.
“The only common denominator I’ve been able to come up with so far is Ms. English herself,” said Jackson. “I have to ask, sir. Is there any reason you know about for someone to want to hurt her? Or for someone connected to her to try something to get to you? You were invested to begin with. That’s seems to have only gotten stronger since the vandalism.”
Luke smirked, glad his head of security couldn’t see him. He had no idea exactly how much more invested in Claire Luke had gotten. “Again, not that I know of,” he finally said.
“I have to ask, sir. Do you trust her?”
“Absolutely,” said Luke without a moment’s hesitation, the revelation catching him off guard. “Do you think she’s in any danger?” Saying the words had something tightening in his throat. He had to get a fucking grip where Claire was concerned.
“I don’t think so. If she is going back to her house I can expand security to cover her there if you want.”
It was the smart thing to do. Get Claire out of his house so he could get her out from under his skin and find some fucking perspective. They were just supposed to be having sex, not living together. He couldn’t risk falling any deeper, but he couldn’t stand the idea of her leaving either.
“No,” he said, finally. “I’m keeping her with me. Call me as soon as you know something.”
Luke hung up the phone and glanced at his watch. Five-thirty. Claire should be awake and getting ready for work. If he hurried he could fuck her in the shower before they went their separate ways for the day.
CLAIRE HIT THE skip track button, turned up the music and sang louder. Adele might want someone to feel her love, but it was the last thing in the world Claire wanted to think about. She dipped her roller in the primer and started to cover the walls of the upstairs bedroom. There was plenty to do on the house before she got deep into the finishing, but she still needed to have the floors re-sanded on the second floor, and it made sense to paint before she did that. A line of lighter unfinished wood ran along one wall from where she’d stopped the guy Luke had hired to fix the floors after the vandalism.