by Kendall Ryan
Again I find myself leaning into him, pressing the side of my body to his as we walk.
The streetlights give the city a rose hue. Collins looks so good with his tailored suit and tie. It’s like a dream. I keep on expecting to wake up in my old apartment back in Connecticut.
“Did you and Pierre make a deal?” I ask.
“We did.” His face is relaxed and happy, like I haven’t seen him in a while. “Thank you, you were perfect,” he says, pressing a quick kiss to my temple as we walk.
At the taxi stand, Collins helps me into the car, following close behind me. The small dome light of the cab shows me the look on his face. There is so much hunger in his eyes.
“What did you say to me back at the restaurant?” I ask, my head feeling like I’m in a fog.
He takes a moment to consider my question. “My angel,” he says softly and I wonder if I’m getting the whole truth.
“And what did Adele say to us before we left?”
“Crazy in love,” he says, looking directly into my eyes.
My stomach does a little flip and desire pools at the base of my spine, sending pleasurable tingles into my lower half.
The driver better step on it. And if this really is a dream, just please don’t let me wake up yet.
Chapter Fifteen
Collins
On the cab ride back to the hotel, I can’t stop my eyes from lingering on Mia’s, or my hands from finding hers in the darkened interior. She was amazing tonight. I’m unsure what will happen once we reach the hotel and part of me doesn’t want this cab ride to end. Uncertainty swims in my gut, making me question everything. My body knows what it wants to happen, it’s my head where the uncertainty lies.
I couldn’t believe I’d whispered I love you, my angel to her at the restaurant. It was in French, so she didn’t know what I said, but the honesty to the words surprised me.
We’re almost back to our hotel, so I fish my wallet from my pocket and slide out a few bills for the driver. Digging my cell phone out next, a string of texts light up the screen. They are from Colton—from several hours ago. I read each one in quick succession.
I thought Tatianna was with you in Paris.
What’s going on man?
I hadn’t thought to tell him that I was taking Mia in place of Tatianna. But I don’t see why it matters.
Soph and I are at Platinum nightclub, and Tatianna is here—dancing with another man—some dickhead who thinks he’s god’s gift to women. WTF.
Tatianna is supposed to be in New York, not dancing with God knows who. Even more troubling than that is Colton bothered to message me in the first place. If she was dancing innocently—something good-natured and fun—he wouldn’t be texting me. It means that he’s alarmed enough by what he saw tonight to alert me. Unease churns inside me.
I stuff my phone back into my pocket as the driver pulls to a stop beside the curb. I’m frustrated and confused, but Mia and I have just shared a great night. I don’t want to take this out on her. I hand the driver a wad of money and help Mia from the car.
“Is everything okay?” she asks, sensing the shift in my mood.
“Everything’s fine.” At least I’m trying to pretend it is.
She smiles up at me, trying to get my happy mood to return. “We should be celebrating your big deal. Are you sure you don’t want to go out?” she asks.
“I’d rather just go back to the room.”
She nods. “Me too.”
God, what I want to do to her when we get back to the room. It’s like a sweet-torture imagining what she will feel like. But if I fuck Mia tonight, I will be no better than Tatianna, with her lies about being in New York. I have to remind myself that I need to handle one thing at a time. I have to end things with Tatianna, because if and when I take Mia, it will be with a clear conscience.
When we enter the hotel room, the mood is quiet and subdued.
I turn on a lamp, which casts a dim glow in the room, then loosen my tie. Mia bends down and removes her black high heels one at a time, giving me a glimpse of the cleavage that’s taunted me all night. All thoughts of Tatianna and the baggage I need to deal with back in LA are pushed from my mind. It’s just me and this stunning woman, with whom I share a deep history, alone in a hotel room halfway across the world.
“I’m going to change,” she says, grabbing her overnight bag and heading into the bathroom.
I don’t know if it’s intentional, but she leaves the bathroom door open just a crack and I’m treated to an erotic show as her fingers slide the zipper slowly down her back and she steps out of the dress. I walk three steps closer to the bathroom, then force myself stop. I want to go to her, but I know I can’t. My line of vision is obstructed, but I can see just enough. The push of her breasts over the cups of a lace bra, the string of black silk between her ass cheeks when she turns around. She undoes the clasp of her bra and lets it fall to the floor, then she steps out of the panties, drawing them down her hips slowly, like she’s performing a strip tease just for me. My cock hardens and grows in my dress pants, pushing against my zipper. Mia is so beautiful, and she doesn’t even know it. A quality that makes her all the more tempting.
She pulls a T-shirt over her head and rejoins me in the bedroom. My head won’t let me forget the fact that she doesn’t have anything on under that thin T-shirt. I remove my jacket and cufflinks while Mia sits down on the edge of the bed and watches me. The room is too quiet, too full of desire. When I look at her big green eyes, she takes my breath away. They are full of such honesty, I can read her like a book. She wants more. She wants me. I’m taken back to that night fifteen years ago when those same emerald eyes were wide and unblinking when she asked me to be her first. It doesn’t matter who she’s been with since then. I was the first man to be inside of her, and that thought fills me with a strange sense of pride.
“Are you sure this is okay?” I ask, looking from her, to the bed.
She shrugs and offers me a shy smile. “We used to have sleepovers all the time, remember?”
“Of course I remember. But your mom stopped letting you sleep over the year we turned twelve.”
She laughs. “Too bad she didn’t know that we’d be playing I’ll show you mine if you show me yours since we were seven.”
I chuckle. God, the things that come out of her mouth kill me. “That was only once if I recall.”
“Yes, but I remember you asking several times. I only gave in because I was curious. I didn’t have brothers. I didn’t know what a boy looked like down there.”
“Did I disappoint?”
She smirks, tugging at something inside me. “I’m quite certain you’ve never disappointed a female in your life.”
The room is silent for a moment, and I continue undressing, toeing off my shoes and removing my socks.
“You were my first in so many ways,” she says.
I glance over at her, where she’s laying back on the bed. “And you were mine,” I say.
She sighs, wistfully. “It was a lifetime time ago.”
It feels like just yesterday. I turn away from her, so she can’t see the longing in my eyes. I remove my dress shirt and cotton undershirt, leaving me in my boxer briefs momentarily. I grab a pair of loose athletic shorts from my bag and tug them on, then I join her on the bed.
“Thank you for tonight. I’m glad you came with me.”
“You’re welcome,” she says. “I’m glad I’m here. With you.” She reaches out for my hand, it’s an innocent gesture, but given the circumstances—her with her bare pussy under that T-shirt, and me shirtless, it’s all the invitation I need. My cock hardens visibly, tenting the thin shorts I have on.
“Mia…” My throat constricts, and I fight off a wave of desire. “I… fuck.” I squeeze her hand and let it go.
Her eyes widen as her gaze travels down my bare chest to my lap, and she chews on her lower lip. “Collins…” The emotion and longing in her voice are unmistakable. Why in the fuck I thought
I could share a bed with this woman, I have no idea. It’s our first night here, and I want to ravage her—fuck her senseless in a thousand different positions until she can no longer stand.
She places her hand flat against my belly and meets my eyes. “You’re aroused,” she says. Her touch is gentle, but I can still feel the heat of her warm palm against my skin. Her honesty is beautiful. Her words are simple, but she always speaks the truth.
“Yes,” I say, hoarsely. “I’m in bed with a beautiful woman.”
She blinks and her eyes fall from mine. She’s never been great at taking a compliment. Placing two fingers under her chin, I lift her face so she’s looking at me again. “You’re incredible. The way you were tonight.” I swallow. I have to take a moment to compose myself, otherwise I’m going to admit things that are better kept quiet. “You’re amazing. And I can’t lie, you turn me on so much.”
“I want you to kiss me again,” she says, her tongue dampening her lower lip.
“Trust me, I want to.” I clench my fists at my sides. “I have to deal with...”
“I know,” she interrupts. “It wouldn’t be right.” Her tone is sad, but filled with understanding.
I smile, appreciating that she isn’t going to make this any harder than it already is. Actually, if I got any harder, I might spontaneously combust. My balls feel heavy and achy. I need to come.
Lifting one hand to her face, I run my fingertips along her cheek, tracing her cheekbone, her jaw, touching my thumb to her lower lip. I push my thumb into the warmth of her plush lower lip and she makes a small sound of need. She’s so aroused, she’s practically trembling. She presses her thighs together and her quick inhale of breath tells me the tiny bit of friction was pleasurable. She’s wet. I can smell her faint scent, and I want to bury my face between her legs, and lap up every ounce of moisture from her pussy.
My hand resumes caressing her cheek. “Collins,” she groans, pressing her thighs together.
I recall Tatianna’s words during our last conversation. She lightly gripped my cock and said don’t let her lay a finger on this. A wicked thought invades my mind. If I use my own hand, I won’t be breaking my promise. My lust-filled brain knows the logic is all wrong, but none of me cares.
“Will you do something for me?” I ask, my voice breathless.
She nods.
“I want you to touch your pussy,” I whisper.
She sucks in a breath, and her eyes widen.
I push my thumb into her mouth, her lips parting to accept me. Her mouth is hot and wet and when she swirls her tongue around my thumb, I imagine it’s the head of my cock and release a strangled groan.
Removing my thumb, I reach down and palm my cock through my shorts. “Fuck.” My body aches with the need for a release.
When she opens her mouth to speak, I think she’s about to argue, to tell me that this is crazy. “Will you…” her eyes fall to my lap. “Stroke yourself too?” she asks.
I nod. “If you rub that swollen clit of yours.” I glance down at her bare legs, which are still pressed together.
She swallows, and her eyes get this determined look. It’s beautiful. She lifts her T-shirt, slowly, carefully, treating me to another erotic show.
My greedy gaze follows the path, eating up each inch of skin she exposes. She’s shaved bare, and my mouth waters knowing how smooth she’d be against my face. She continues lifting the shirt until she can pull it off over her head. I appreciate the dip in her soft belly, and the way her full, heavy breasts sway when she drops the shirt over the side of the bed.
Once she’s naked, she gets a little shy, and I worry for a second that she’s going to back out on me.
“Your breasts are beautiful,” I say. “Touch them for me,” I whisper.
Tentatively, she brings her hands to her breasts and cups their weight.
“Gorgeous,” I murmur, urging her on.
Still unsure, and chewing on her lower lip, her fingertips graze her nipples and she draws a shuddering breath.
“That’s it. It’s so fucking hot watching you.”
She circles her nipples and they harden into peaks. Her eyes drift closed and she releases a soft sigh from the pleasurable contact.
“Does that feel good, sweetheart?” I ask.
She blinks her eyes open and finds my eyes. “Yes,” she breathes.
“Good girl. Trail your right hand down your belly.”
With her eyes still on mine, she lowers her hand.
“Slow,” I tell her.
She swallows and slows her movements, letting her fingers graze her belly, then her hip bone as she moves it lower.
“Put your hand between your legs and tell me how wet you are.”
Her fingers dip lower, and she moans. “I’m soaked, Collins.”
Fuck.
I need to touch my cock, but I won’t do it until she asks again. Right now is about her—her pleasure. And something tells me if I’m not directing her movements, encouraging her, she’ll stop. I can’t have that.
“Push one finger inside for me,” I growl.
She does, sinking her finger in up to the knuckle, and lets out a moan as her eyes drift closed.
“Tell me how you feel,” I whisper.
She inhales sharply, her finger drawing in and out. “I…Oh, God, it feels good. It’s been so long.”
I’m unsure what to make of her comment—it’s been a long time since she’s had a lover, or since she’s touched herself? But I don’t care. Either way, I just want to see her come all over her fingers while I’m beside her.
“Show me,” I say.
Her eyes latch onto mine, confused.
“Show me how you make yourself come,” I say.
I can read the indecision in her eyes. I don’t want a sexy show; I want her to touch herself like she does when no one’s watching.
“I want to see you too.” She looks down my abs, to where my cock is straining against the shorts.
I nod, reaching for my waistband, then pause. Her eyes dart back up to mine. “Don’t come until I say,” I tell her. Then I pull my shorts down my hips until my cock is freely resting against my stomach. I take myself in my hand, stroking lightly. I growl out a curse. My cock is so hard and so sensitive it’s not going to take me long. “Now show me how you like it.”
She withdraws her fingers and parts her outer lips until that pleasure-seeking bundle of nerves is exposed, then she rubs herself in a circular motion. At the end of the bed, I see her toes curl.
Hell yeah.
Her breathing increases and grows ragged. I want it to be my fingers stroking her clit until she writhes and comes undone, but if it can’t be me, then watching her do it is the next best thing.
Mia’s chest is rising and falling fast, and her hips push upwards as her hand continues stroking. Her thighs fall open completely, treating me to a sight that makes my mouth water. Glistening pink flesh swollen with arousal. I want to sink inside her so bad, to memorize the way her hot cunt feels around me. But I won’t. Not yet.
She watches me pull my cock in long, easy strokes. “Are you imagining it’s my hand on you?” she asks, slightly breathless.
“Fuck yeah,” I say, pumping my fist over the crown and groaning. “But you’d be using two hands.” It’s obvious to us both, given my generous size, and her delicate hands. “And I’d make you go slow, so I could savor every bit of pleasure, the way your soft hands stroked my shaft while you were wishing it was your mouth.” Mia lets out a moan. “I’d want to take my time, not come right away,” I admit.
Mia’s fingers pick up speed as she circles the bud with a wet sound.
“I wish it was my tongue on your clit,” I say. “I could spend hours fucking you with my mouth.”
She lets out a desperate whimper, and I know she’s getting close. Her hips rock up with every stroke. I pump my cock harder.
“That’s it. Come for me sweetheart, give me everything.”
She cries out, and her fi
ngers still as she comes. I can see the muscles in her pussy tremble and imagine how incredible it would feel to have her clench around my cock. I come with a hoarse moan, spilling myself onto my chest and abs.
After, we lay side by side, watching each other as my pulse pounds in my ears. I’m desperate to take her in my arms, but I know I can’t. She’s not mine, even if we did just share an incredibly intimate moment. I might not have laid a finger on her, yet I feel closer to her than anyone. I want to apologize, to explain that we shouldn’t have done that. But I’m not sorry. And I would do it again in a heartbeat.
We lay, unmoving, facing each other for several minutes. Mia searches my eyes for clues about what I’m thinking. “Collins?” she asks, finally, her voice small.
I lean over her on the bed, petting her hair back away from her face. “I’m sorry if I got a little carried away.”
She hesitates, and I wonder what she could be thinking. But then her expression lightens. “This is better than the sleepovers we had when we were twelve.”
An unexpected laugh rumbles in my chest and I kiss her forehead. “That was way fucking better. Are you okay?”
She nods. “I’m great.”
“Good. I’m going to clean myself up quick.” I rise from the bed in search of something to clean myself off, but opt for a shower. I don’t know what to think about the fact that I haven’t been able to fuck my own girlfriend for weeks and I just came like a goddamn fire hose at my own hand with Mia beside me.
Ten minutes later, I emerge with a towel around my hips and see Mia lying in bed, dressed once again in her T-shirt.
“Let’s get some sleep.” I pull on my discarded shorts from beside the bed and crawl beside her.
I have no idea how I’m going to be productive in meetings tomorrow with Pierre and his executives with the erotic image of Mia coming on her own fingers permanently tattooed into my brain.
I switch off the light and we lie silent in the dark a few moments before I feel the bed shift slightly, as Mia moves closer to me, releasing a sleepy sound. She curls her hand around mine and squeezes. “Night, Coll,” she yawns.