Sinfully Yours

by Margot Radcliffe

  She bucked up, wanting him to get on with it, to put a condom on and get to work, but he was willful. Pulled her open again and his mouth settled fully on her sex, his tongue sliding into her, rolling and licking; he grunted lightly as he fucked her thoroughly, her whole body growing heavy with longing.

  Taking the slippery bud into his mouth, Laura cried out as his teeth bit, her limbs shaking as she got closer to climax. He took her there, his rough, thick fingers plunging inside her as he sucked her clit rhythmically; it was hypnotic and slow as he drew out the sensations, but she’d need it faster if she was actually going to come. Moving her hips against him to hurry the process, she received an open-handed swat on her ass and his hands gripping her hips to hold her still.

  “This is how I play,” he murmured, removing his face from between her legs completely.

  She looked back to see what he was doing and saw that he had his own rigid length in his hand, stroking slowly as his eyes locked on her pussy, open and pulsing for him. Watching him, the way his fingers, glistening from her own wetness, closed around his thickness, another wave of heat washed over her. Survival seemed unlikely and she took matters into her own hands, reaching down to her clit to get her own self off just as he was, but seeing her, a hand still on himself, he reared back and stopped her. It’d been so long since he’d given a fuck about anyone that part of him felt like it was waking up again after a hibernation.

  He brushed another soft kiss to her bottom and she lifted herself up, encouraging him to keep touching her, but he moved away again leaving her in the cold.

  “Do you want to come, Laura?” he taunted, his voice low and rumbling in the darkness.

  “Yes,” she choked, watching a drop of his own come form on the tip of him, her eyes riveted as his locked on hers as he drew the moisture around the rounded head.

  “I’m not going to let you until you beg for it,” he told her, a glint in his eye that told her this was the game. To torture her until she could no longer take it. And she was close to not being able to take anymore, but she felt like she’d been waiting a lifetime to be in Will’s bed and that she was going to accept the challenge.

  Regardless, she levered up until they were both sitting on their heels in front of each other and she reached out and took him in her hand, covering his own. Together, she guided him down his length, her wetness still on his fingers slick as they went. She leaned down to take him in her mouth and she was surprised that he let her, but he just grunted as she pulled his hand away and licked over his leaking tip. Then she took all of him into her mouth and that was when he backed away from her, tipping her onto her back so she was sprawled before him.

  The feather appeared in his hand again, tracing the path of her arms, breasts, abdomen and legs, sliding slowly over the sensitized crease of her, dragging the wetness up her stomach before he licked it clean. Her hips bucked without her even realizing it, seeking more contact, seeking him inside her finally. He dipped a thumb to her clit, a quick nuzzle that ramped her up and then he was gone again, swishing the feather lightly over her skin. It was enough to drive her insane. Every nerve ending, every brain cell in her body, every follicle on her skin was waiting, begging for him to take her but he was content to play.

  She should have known this about Will. Everything he did was under his control. He operated an empire, had guided them as kids, had protected her, all because that’s who he was. He was a master of his own universe and she’d just happened to be a part of it tonight so she let her head fall back into the heavenly soft pillows and enjoy. Her mind eventually went blank, the only focus on the predictable brush of the feathers on her skin, running figure eight patterns over her abdomen.

  Every so often he would add a thumb to bring her to the brink of orgasm again, until she was panting for him, whimpering for him to continue.

  “I am begging,” she finally said as his finger slowly slid over her engorged center, her voice choked and hoarse with unspent desire. “Please, I need it.”

  But he wasn’t convinced and repeated the entire circuit, only this time, he rolled her to the side and ran the softness down the vulnerable undersides of her arms and ticklish sides, but she wasn’t laughing; too keyed up from the delayed orgasm, she barely had an awareness of time anymore; her entire world was centered on his touch.

  Finally, the feather disappeared and she heard a drawer open and the crinkle of foil.

  “Thank God,” she sighed. Rolling her again, he took her from the front, their eyes locked as he slowly slid into her. Words would have been frivolous to say, but she felt them bubbling up in her throat as he stretched her, found the place inside her that had been waiting for him for so long. She always thought he’d be her first, fantasized about it, but nothing would have ever prepared her for this, her body’s total surrender. She was his; he had to draw her legs up himself and put them around his back, pulling him farther into her because she was so gone. Eventually, her body took over, lunging upward to him as he plunged into her hot wetness, the sound of their bodies coming together cutting hungrily through the quiet room.

  He wasn’t easy, the strength of him pistoning in and out of her was like bolts of lightning, hitting the perfect spot each time, but leaving her body shocked with sensation.

  When it arrived, her climax hit her like an avalanche burying her in pleasure; deep, drugging blankets of happiness fell over her body, obliterating any other thoughts or feelings. It had never been like this.

  But he wasn’t finished, his hands threading through hers and pinning them to the bed as he moved hungrily against her, grinding into her clit, effortlessly sending her over the edge again. Her inner muscles clamped down on him, keeping him inside her, gripping and he gave a final push in, groaning with the effort as his body shuddered under his own release.

  Laura’s eyes closed, her head unmoving on the pillow; her hand reached up to brush a hunk of dark, sweaty hair from his eye.

  “I think I’m dead,” she managed, her voice low and wry.

  His forehead hit hers as his breathing slowed. “I’ll get you the prettiest coffin I can find.”

  She huffed out a laugh as he rolled off her, depositing the condom quickly into the trash before joining her in bed again. She found herself in his crook, his nose in her hair.

  “It wasn’t too much?” he asked.

  She shook her head. “It was perfect,” she told him, wrapping an arm around his rigid abdomen.

  Her body was literally falling into a sex coma from which she wasn’t sure she needed to wake. It was the best she’d ever felt and it was all because of Will, not just what he’d done, but who he was.

  “I’m going to make you so many more cookies,” she promised, her voice sounding groggy even to her own ears.

  The last thing she remembered was his soft kiss to her forehead before sleep overtook her.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  LAURA WOKE UP in Will’s dark and quiet bedroom, still in a hazy state of disbelief over what they’d done, the absolute wonder of it. She expected some kind of regret or self-consciousness to interrupt an otherwise lovely Christmas Eve evening, but she only felt good about what they’d done. It was probably the height of foolishness because her heart was in a very precarious position, but it didn’t matter.

  “You literally kicked me straight in the gut at least two times,” a sleep-scratched voice accused from the other side of the bed. “I think I’m bruised.”

  Laura cleared her throat, mildly embarrassed. “Yeah, I’m not a great sleeper,” she admitted. “Sorry about that.”

  A warm arm pulled her back against his chest and she didn’t bother to fight it as his lips came to greet hers. “You don’t have to apologize. I’ll just make sure my face is uphill from your legs next time.”

  Then he kissed her again, lazy and long, her body falling back into deep relaxation even as tendrils of lust curled in her veins.
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br />   “Can I order room service for dinner or do you have something planned?” he asked, drawing lazy circles on her shoulders.

  “Planned,” she said, having gotten all the ingredients for her traditional Christmas Eve dinner previously before Operation: Give Will a Christmas had been basically thwarted by his insistence on dragging her to society events.

  He gave her another quick kiss. “I don’t hate you in my bed,” he said, almost thoughtfully, as if he was just considering it.

  “Good to know,” she said, the thought of just how many other women he’d had in this bed popping up in her thoughts like a sneaky fox poised to steal the goodness of the day. She’d heard the stories about Will and the women he dated, and couldn’t help but wonder if she’d eventually become, just that, another story.

  He ran a possessive hand over her hair, gripping the ends just slightly before letting go of it to head to the bathroom, bold and bare-ass naked.

  Taking a minute to enjoy the show, she watched until he closed the door. With a sigh, she got herself up and headed to her own room to shower and change clothes. She pulled out a pair of pajamas with little reindeers on them that she’d bought for her family’s annual silly Christmas photo and padded out to the kitchen to start dinner.

  Within minutes of chopping up an onion for the marinara sauce that would go in the lasagna, Will appeared from the hallway looking sexy and slightly rumpled in a pair of gray sweats and a faded black thermal. He flipped on the fireplace and the orange flames immediately came to life behind the grate. Just like last night it was extremely cozy and considering what they’d just done, Laura was already feeling anxious. Worried because not only did she want to do it all over again, but because she couldn’t imagine wanting to not do it. Ever. Which was a problem when something had an expiration date.

  “Smells good already,” he told her, coming to stand behind her at the stove, his body as hot as the flame in front of her. “What’s on the menu?” His nose nudged her hair aside and lips gently touched her neck and it felt like the same kind of care and consideration she’d always yearned for from him.

  Holding back a sigh of sublime contentment, she answered, “Lasagna. Nothing fancy, but it’s tradition.”

  His hand slid down her arm and away, lighting a match and then stepping away from the fire. On purpose, she knew now, to drive her crazy. She missed his touch already. He was dangerously addictive and she had to be careful because this was an anomaly and as soon as the snow and her houseguests were gone, so probably was this.

  He made a low sound in his throat that she felt in the middle of her thighs. “Lasagna is one of my favorite meals. Need any help?”

  She pointed to the plastic cartons and cheese on the counter. “You can mix together the filling if you want.”

  “Just dump all this stuff in a bowl?”

  She nodded and he got to work after pausing to turn on some Christmas music, something he’d refused to let her listen to yesterday.

  “Thanks,” she said, suddenly feeling unsure of herself. After chopping up a carrot, her secret ingredient, she poured a can of tomatoes and tomato sauce into the pot and let it all come to a simmer.

  Watching him stir the cheese, egg and parsley mixture, she started grinning. “Do you think our teenage selves could have ever imagined us doing that?” she asked, nodding to indicate what they’d done in his bedroom.

  He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “Um, as I mentioned before, that’s about all my teenage self imagined doing with you, so, yeah.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “You never gave any indication that I was anything other than a sister to you.”

  He hit her with a speculative look, his eyebrow raised in doubt. “I really don’t know how you would have been so clueless, but I did have all those thoughts. Trust me.”

  “You should have said something. We were friends—it would have been okay to be honest.” And maybe she would have stayed with him if she’d known and he wouldn’t have been so alone and cut off like he was now.

  He was silent for a moment. “You were my best friend, yeah.”

  That statement and his tone sucker punched her in the gut. For him to make the differentiation of best friends versus just friends in a casual conversation meant that she’d been extremely important to him.

  “And I definitely wanted to have sex with you too,” he threw in when she would have pressed.

  She laughed. “Well, you hid it well.”

  The only sound in the room was the wooden spoon softly clicking against the white ceramic bowl as Will stirred his cheese mixture. She took a moment to watch through the windows as a blanket of snow fell down, effectively shutting the rest of the world out.

  The water for the noodles was boiling so she started putting a couple of them in at a time while ladling sauce into the pan so she could layer all of the ingredients.

  She was thankful to have something to do because she was still feeling awkward. Wanting to talk more about what they’d done and what it meant. Usually after one-night stands she left the scene; she didn’t stay around and make lasagna while pretending it wasn’t the biggest holiday of the year. It also didn’t help that he was staring at her, his eyes zeroed in and following every movement and action as if he was trying to memorize it.

  “I should have told you how pretty you were,” he said, stalling her, her chest thumping wildly at the compliment. Will had never been one for words, but when he delivered them, they meant something.

  Ladle full of sauce in the air, she met his eyes, knowing her own gaze was probably embarrassingly vulnerable. “What?”

  His eyes were dark. “It was just one of the tons of things I regretted not telling you after you left.”

  A pang of emotion so deep hit at a raw spot in her chest that nearly leveled her. She still remembered having to leave him. It had killed her, the silent sobbing in the back of the caseworker’s gold Dodge Neon, the interior worn but clean. She’d choked back the tears then because they would have ruined her. But once she was out of the city, in the safety of the hotel room they were staying at before the formal transfer to her new foster family, the tears had come and hadn’t stopped until morning.

  She hadn’t had a choice. It was either escape with him to survive on their own with not even a high school diploma between them or a shot at the family she’d always wanted. She’d done what she’d thought was best, but none of that meant she hadn’t been devastated to lose him.

  “Thank you, Will,” she managed through the lump her throat. “And I always thought you were handsome, then and now.”

  A dark, winged eyebrow rose over his eye and one side of his mouth crooked. “Handsome?”

  “Yeah,” she confirmed, raising her own eyebrows in question, glad for the return to levity.

  He made a kind of grunting noise, but didn’t say anything.

  “What is wrong with being handsome?” she pressed, hiding her own smile.

  “It’s a word used to describe little boys in suits.”

  She rolled her eyes and started placing a third of the noodles over the sauce. “Give me a break.”

  She could feel his eyes on her as she worked, but he didn’t say anything so she glared at him. “You can’t be seriously mad about it.”

  “Not mad, but I just think you should be accurate is all.”

  Snorting, she wiped her hands on a paper towel, having gotten some sauce on them. “Just say you want another compliment, Will, and I’ll give you one.”

  He gave her a bland look as if to say she was being the irrational one.

  “You were a good-looking teenager,” she told him, giving him what he wanted anyway because she wanted him to have it, wanted to make him feel as good as he made her. Just wanted to see him smile, possibly, if that was a thing he ever did. “But as an adult you are devastatingly hot, Will.”

  Hooded ey
es met hers. His voice low and gravely as usual, he teased, “Was that so hard?”

  She shrugged. “Nope, but I’m sure you’ve heard it before.”

  “Not from you, though,” he pointed out, handing her another noodle.

  “We just got out of bed together—I would think how I felt about your appearance was pretty clear.”

  “Would it help if I said that as a teenager you were adorable, but as a woman you’re extraordinary?”

  “Okay, what’s going on here with these compliments?” Laura demanded, waving a wooden spoon at him as her insides went gooey. “Who are you and what have you done with Will Walker the man who cursed every waking being today at brunch?”

  Their eyes met, his tongue stuck in the side of his mouth. “I’m the same guy you always knew. I just don’t have to hide the fact that I want you anymore. But I do want you to tell me why you’re brushing it off and making a joke of it? Because I don’t say a lot of nice things nowadays, so when I do trust me to mean it.”

  “I didn’t mean to do that,” she apologized. “They do mean a lot to me.”

  He gave her a nod of acknowledgment. “Same for me.”

  Her mind drifted, wanting to find the right thing to say. To right the past with Will so they had a chance of moving on. So that she had an opportunity to be in his life permanently. It’d taken so long after she’d moved in with her family that she could even believe she was worthy of good things. The warmth, the camaraderie, the bone-deep sense of belonging she’d yearned for all given to her one day out of the blue had felt too good to be true. If she’d never found her parents, Laura just didn’t know how unhappy she would be now, never having known unconditional love and support.

  But she’d found Will on Christmas over a decade and a half later and it was her duty to help him find that kind of peace and acceptance, as well.

  “Do you ever think you’ll want a family?” she asked, spooning small dollops of the cheese mixture onto the noodles.