To own her.
It’d been a dangerous thought.
But when Pike had offered the opportunity for alone time—something he’d never done in a threesome before—Foster hadn’t been able to stop himself from thanking the heavens for the unexpected gift. And when he’d told Pike to not come back until he gave the all clear, his friend had only smiled. Like he’d known exactly the nature of Foster’s possessive thoughts.
Now Cela was all his. At least for a little while.
He walked next to the bed, trailing his fingers along the edge of the duvet and letting his gaze track hot over Cela’s bare skin. When he reached her side, he traced a finger around a dusky nipple, bringing it to a hard point. “I love how responsive you are.”
“Thank you, sir,” she whispered, her eyes closing when he gave the little nub a soft tug.
His already stiff cock twitched. The word sir rolled off her lush lips like they’d been made to say it. There was no force there, no this-is-just-a-game smugness. He drew a finger along the bow of her lips, remembering how they’d felt around him—the heaven that was Cela’s hot, eager mouth.
“Hold on to the slats of the headboard, angel. And don’t let go until I tell you.”
Her dark eyes flared with heat and her lips parted, but she followed his directive without an ounce of hesitation. She was sliding deeper, he could see it in the softness of her expression, the looseness of her muscles. If the simple act of holding the headboard sent her to that lovely place, he could only imagine how she would respond to true restraints, to real roughness. His blood hummed at the thought.
Maybe another time.
But he knew there would probably not be another time.
This was her wild ride before she went home to her real life. He’d made the mistake of reading too much into a woman before, and he wouldn’t do it again. He’d barely survived the first time.
He needed to accept his role for what it was—the kinky neighbor she was working out a few fantasies with. But that didn’t mean they both couldn’t have a fantastic time tonight.
Once he was sure she had a good grip on the headboard, he climbed onto the bed, straddling her. The soft curls of her mound brushed against his cock, and he had to suppress the urge to bury himself inside her that instant. But he didn’t want this to end too quickly. If he only had tonight, he wanted to savor every part of her like fine wine. He braced his arms on the side of her and laid soft, wet kisses along her neck, pulling the delicate skin into his mouth and tasting the brininess of her exertion. There were few flavors he enjoyed more than the salty taste of a woman’s sweat or tears. He liked to bring both forth when a woman was under his command.
Cela whimpered softly, her back curving, as he made his way down to her collarbone, nibbling. Her body brushed against his, petal soft and burning hot, begging. Every move, every sigh she made tested his own resolve to go slowly. But as he found his way to her breasts, he knew rushing would be a crime. Her nipples were hard and dark in the lamplight of the room, inspiring worship. He lowered his head, drawing his tongue around the point, bringing goose bumps to the surface, then gave the treatment to the other side.
She squirmed beneath him in quiet desperation. Her knuckles went white along the headboard. He smiled and traced her sternum with a featherlight touch. “What do you need, angel?”
Her teeth pressed into her lip, her eyes closed. “I need more. Please. Sir.”
“Mmm, good girl,” he said, cupping her breast, loving the weight of it in his hand. He adored how curvy she was. He’d only imagined what she looked like under those scrubs she always wore, but the reality was so much better. A body strong enough to withstand a rough hand but built for sin. Lush indulgence. “You have no idea what your sweet begging does to me.”
He plumped her breast with his hand and drew the nipple into his mouth, teasing and then sucking with enough force to make it count.
“Oh,” she gasped, lifting into his touch.
Her knees parted, and the aroma of female arousal drifted up to his nose, wrapping around his cock like hot fist. Fuck, even her scent was mouthwatering, every bit of her edible. He gave her nipple a gentle bite, and the grinding noise that escaped from the back of her throat nearly made the top of his head blow off.
If he waited too much longer, he was going to go off like some inexperienced teenager. And even though the thought of her smooth, honeyed skin being painted with his seed spoke to his deep, primal desire to mark her, he wasn’t going to settle for anything less than being inside her tonight.
He kissed his way down her belly, then licked along the creases where leg met pelvis. Her thighs fell open further, the ultimate invitation, exposing the smooth lips of her pussy. He loved that she’d only left a triangle of hair on her mound. Everything else was blessedly pink and glistening with arousal. He used the tip of his tongue to tease the swollen button at her center, and her breath went choppy.
He pulled back with a smile. “Not yet, angel. Not until I have these legs of yours around me.”
“God, yes,” she said, her belly quivering as she tried to reel herself in, then she stilled as if just realizing something. “Did you bring—I didn’t . . .”
“Shh, I’ve got it.” He reached for the condom he’d pulled from his wallet earlier and set on the side table to sheathe himself. “You can let go of the bed now.”
Her arms melted into the mattress, releasing the headboard, and she raised her eyelids as he settled himself over her. The look was one of pure trust, untainted surrender. He didn’t deserve it, but he wasn’t going to question it right now.
“You ready, angel?”
“You have no idea.”
He laughed and positioned himself at her entrance. She was so wet, so hot, as he pushed forward. It should have been a smooth glide of an entry. But as soon as he got a little ways in, her body seemed to fight him, the clasp of her heat squeezing him hard. “Fuck, baby. You’re tight.”
He nudged a little, and he caught the wince she tried to cover.
“Am I hurting you?” he asked, an arrow of worry shooting through him.
She circled her arms around him, her hold on him deathly tight, like she was afraid he was going to get up and walk away. “No. It’s just been a long time. And you’re . . . big. Please, don’t stop. Just go for it.”
“I don’t want to h—”
“I have a safe word,” she said, a pleading look in her eyes. “Please, I need this. I need you.”
A niggling concern pressed at the back of his brain, but the way she felt around him clouded any coherent thoughts he was trying to have. He needed to have her, wanted to feel her around him. He rocked his hips forward, gently at first, then with a bit more force, pushing past the resistance and burying himself deep.
She cried out, her head titling back and her back arching. He couldn’t tell if it was pain or pleasure. Her nails dug into his shoulders, and she seemed to not breathe for a long moment. He held still, afraid he was doing more harm than good. “Tell me you’re okay, Cela.”
She took a breath finally, panting. “Yes. Please. Keep going.”
He slid back and plunged inside her again, this time meeting no resistance—just the pure ecstasy of being surrounded by her heat.
“Oh, God,” she moaned, her grip on him easing and a softness smoothing her tense features. “Yes . . . this.”
And that was all he needed. He moved inside her again, the feel of her like hot cashmere around his cock. God, she was so snug, so maddeningly sexy. He didn’t know if he’d ever experienced such an intense feeling. Sweet agony bled through his veins as he pumped into her with a cadence that belied the urgent need building in him. He would not rush this.
He didn’t want it to end, didn’t want to lose the beautiful sight of her beneath him, the pained bliss that was coloring her features. “You’re so beautiful, Cela. So
fucking perfect.”
She lifted her lashes and reached up to touch his face, to brush her fingers along his stubble. The tender intimacy of the move almost undid him. “And you’re better than the fantasy, Foster.”
He dropped onto his forearms, unable to bear another second without kissing her. His mouth met hers in a hungry rush, tongues and lips clashing. She laced her fingers in his hair and pulled tight. Out of his conscious control at this point, his hips begin to thrust into her with more force. She whimpered into his mouth, and the bed squeaked beneath them as sweat glazed his skin.
He didn’t break the kiss, but reached a hand in between them to find her clit. The moment he touched it, her pussy gripped him, contracted.
“Come with me, angel,” he said, lifting up only far enough to watch her face and then picking up speed.
He angled his hips to brush his cock over her where he knew she needed, and strummed her clit. A long, gritty moan passed her lips, and he felt the precise moment she shattered. It was all he needed. His balls drew tight and the all-encompassing explosion of pleasure shot through him like bullet train.
The sweet, erotic sounds of her orgasm danced around him, driving him higher as he emptied every bit of him inside her, his body throbbing and pulsing, all with need for her. Just her.
And the realization didn’t hit him then.
It didn’t even hit him as he lifted off her, kissed her face all over, and eventually tucked her into a robe.
But then he went into the bathroom to toss the condom.
And saw red.
And he knew, knew what had been haunting her eyes in the elevator.
Never have I ever . . .
He leaned against the bathroom wall, his heart sinking.
Fuck.
Chapter 10
I rolled to the left, bumping into tattooed, sleep-warmed skin. The obstruction spun my hazy brain into confusion for a moment. Where was I? Was I dreaming? I blinked in the predawn darkness, finding Pike snoring softly, his bare back to me. My mind stumbled, then rewound, the memories of the night dropping back into place.
A long breath pushed past my lips as I lay back on the pillows and rubbed my eyes. No, this had been no dream. My achy, tender body punctuated that conclusion. I’d actually done it—shoved past all my worry and inhibitions and gotten naked with not just one of the neighbors I’d been fantasizing about, but both of them. And I’d had sex with Foster. Sex. I was a virgin no longer. I waited for the shame to hit me. The morning-after regret I’d heard about from friends, but none came.
The only thing clawing at me was the memory of the way I’d felt when Foster had held me and kissed me, the way he’d felt filling my body. The physical discomfort of it had been expected, the initial wave of it breath stealing. But that pain had faded to a soft hum in the background when my eyes had locked with his. Something far deeper than the sensations my body was experiencing had passed through me. An intense oneness with him.
It’d probably been the simple fact that he was my first. Girls were wired to get romantic notions about that, right? But later when Pike had joined the two of us in bed again, I hadn’t felt the same thing kissing and cuddling him. Being with Pike was fun—he was sex personified and he made me laugh—but I didn’t get that tight feeling in my stomach when he looked at me.
I turned to my right, seeking the man who was stirring up the turmoil in me, but that side of the bed was empty. I reached out and touched the rumpled sheets. Cold.
I frowned and squinted at the clock—a little past five A.M. Careful not to disturb Pike, I scooted across the bed and climbed to my feet, grabbing the robe I’d thrown over the high-backed chair in the corner. My body protested at the movement, soreness fully setting in now. But in a way, I welcomed the discomfort, the proof that the night had really happened and wasn’t some fantasy. After a quick trip to the bathroom, I padded across the plush carpet and slipped out of the bedroom.
The living room was still in twilight, but the silhouette of a man standing in front of the large windows drew me. Foster stared out at the coming dawn, the lights of downtown Dallas starting to blink off, preparing for the sun’s appearance. He held a mug in his hands, blowing across the top of it.
I hung in the shadow of the far side of the room, simply enjoying watching him. The muscles in his back shifted and caught the light as he lifted his coffee to his lips and sipped. There was an elegance to his economy of movement, to his stillness. His brows were drawn low, his profile a sculpture of deep thought.
I almost turned back toward the bedroom, afraid to interrupt the sanctity of his quiet morning, but when I stepped backward, my robe brushed a nearby lampshade, sending the lamp chain clinking against the metal base.
Foster tipped his head in my direction, a slight turn, but didn’t take his eyes off the view. “You’re up early.”
I wrapped my arms around myself. “Said the rooster to the chicken.”
He looked at me then, a quirk of a smile. “I’m not so good at the sleeping-in thing. Hope I didn’t wake you.”
“You didn’t.” I stepped out of the dark and headed to the oversized chair near the window. When I sat, my body reminded me again of all I’d been through in the last few hours. But even the tenderness of my backside had a flash of lust zipping through me. God, I was a glutton for punishment. Since when was pain a good thing? I tucked my legs beneath me and resisted the urge to go over to Foster and kiss him good morning. “I’m not sure what woke me up. Maybe Pike’s snoring.”
Foster chuckled. “Don’t tell him he snores. It will devastate his Mr. Suave self-image.”
“Never.” I pantomimed zipping my mouth shut.
Foster’s smirk remained in place, but I sensed this lighthearted conversation was simply pretty decoration on top of a pile of crap that wasn’t been said. The lines around his mouth, the way he gripped his coffee, even the set of his shoulders had my nerves rising, my fingers fiddling with the tie of my terrycloth robe. He knew.
He released a long sigh and moved away from the window to perch on the arm of the couch across from me. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
I stared down at fidgeting hands. “Tell you what?”
“Cela,” he said in that commanding tone he’d used in the bedroom. “Look at me.”
A hot quiver rippled through me, but I raised my gaze to him.
Sharp disapproval edged his features. “You left something pretty important off that list of yours.”
My cheeks heated. “I know. I’m sorry. I didn’t want to say anything.”
“Didn’t want to say anything?” he said, his exasperation loud in the dead quiet of the hotel room. “Cela, we could’ve hurt you. If you had told me, I would’ve been gentler, more tender. I hit you for Christ’s sake.” He dragged a hand through his already disheveled mop of hair. “Your first time’s supposed to be sweet and romantic and I . . .”
“Stop,” I said, sitting up taller in the chair. “You didn’t hurt me. And this is exactly why I didn’t want to tell either of you. The guy I told you about, the one who made fun of me? I had gone on a few dates with him and when things started to heat up, I let him know before anything happened. He laughed and asked if I was some religious fanatic. Then he left because taking a girl’s virginity was ‘too heavy’ for a hookup.”
“Well, thank God for that. That idiot definitely didn’t deserve to touch you. But you know I wouldn’t have done that.”
“I know you wouldn’t have teased me, but you would’ve backed out the instant you found out.”
“No, I wouldn’t’ve.”
“Liar,” I said, frustration building in me. “You just said it. Everybody has all these notions about what a first time is supposed to be like, and it freaks people out. Dudes are afraid the girl is going to cling to them like some let’s-be-together-forever teenager, and girls are afraid that if the heavens don??
?t open up and the angels don’t sing that it’s a losing-your-virginity failure. I didn’t want any of that.”
He shook his head. “What did you want?”
You, my mind whispered, exactly what happened. And angels had sung. Or maybe those were devils . . . I kicked the thought aside. “I wanted a good time. I wanted to get that big branded V off my resume before I have to go back home and start my real life.”
Something flickered through his blue eyes, like a biting wind in a winter storm. “A good time. Right. Well, that’s our specialty.”
He stood and walked back toward the window, dismissing me.
The iciness in his voice and stance cut though my thick robe, chilling my skin. The shift in his mood had my defenses rising, anger welling. “Isn’t it? Or are all those girls I’ve heard visit your apartment your ‘twu wuv’.”
His wince was almost imperceptible, but I caught it.
I rose to my feet, arms crossed. “Be honest, Foster. If I had told you last night that I was a virgin, would you have slept with me?”
He stared out the window, his jaw twitching, and I thought he may ignore me. But then after a few long seconds, he spun on his heel, set his coffee down, and stalked into my space.
His nearness had my thoughts scattering, my emotions splintering. Words wouldn’t come.
He cupped my shoulders, a grip that vibrated with restrained power. “I don’t know. But if I had, I would’ve made it different. I would’ve made it special for you, would’ve taken my time, gone slow. And I certainly wouldn’t have invited Pike or used any kink.”
I swallowed hard, his earnest speech curling around me, making me ache for him all over again. “It was special, Foster. And yes, I’m new at all this, but what you did . . . how you acted . . .”
“Was irresponsible.”
“Was hot.”
His eyebrows lifted.
“I asked you to take control. I didn’t realize you would take it where you did, but . . . I liked it. I felt lost and safe all at the same time. I never expected sex to feel like that. I had an idea what it would feel like physically. I know my way around a vibrator. But this was . . .” I paused, not sure if the right words even existed. “Transcendent.”