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“No. This time is for you.”
Does that mean another time will follow? Soon? Because I adore the way he wants to worship and prioritize me, but I feel deprived of tending to him and his needs, too.
He rolls a condom on, still gazing at me with that deep stare of hunger. Before I can think to reply or argue, or even string along a coherent sentence, he climbs back over me. Hovering and flexing all those rock-hard muscles as he braces himself, he reaches for me again.
In a flash, he hooks his hand beneath my thigh and pushes my leg up, giving himself a better angle to enter me. The stretch of his cockhead is a delicious burn. When he slides into me hard and steady, driving his erection all the way in, I growl and clutch at his back, uncaring if my nails score and mark his skin.
It feels that good. Too good. And if he doesn’t move soon, I’ll go crazy. I’ve never felt so full, so stretched, and eager for that dragging slide of his veiny dick against my inner muscles.
“Please.” I kiss his neck, and he grunts. Leaning closer, he wipes my juices off his face, rubbing them onto the pillow. Then, as he turns his face to me, he kisses me deeply and pulls out. The second full pump into me is more forceful, and I can’t get enough of it.
Over and over, he thrusts into me and devours my mouth with sucking, demanding kisses that could almost make me come alone.
This is no delicate time ruffling the sheets and chasing a quick orgasm. He’s pounding into me with full-body friction, shoving the linens and pillows into disarray.
This isn’t a simple act of slotting his cock into me with just enough thrusts to get himself off and hurry to the shower, kissing me here or there to remind me I’m not alone. This rugged man is owning me, taking command of my body, and bringing it alive in a dirty, wonderful way.
I’ve never had a lover like this. I’ve never been so entirely consumed by a man. Because he is already my master, pulling a second, and even more forceful, orgasm out of me. I shatter and cry at the blissful release, and as I milk him, he stills deep inside me, groaning as he reaches his pleasure, too.
I don’t know how long I lay there. We both doze off, but over the course of the night, we do manage to find the covers and snuggle under them together.
After that restful, deep slumber, though, I wake alone.
No. It couldn’t have been a sex dream. As I sit up, feeling the aches and sweet soreness between my legs, I sigh. It was real. Silky smooth sheets caress my bare skin as I sit up fully. I so had sex with Sawyer last night, but he’s no longer here.
My heart races, because instead of waking in his arms and easing into a greeting after that momentous night we shared, I now face his return with anticipation.
I don’t have long for nerves to build up. Not wanting to be caught in bed when he’s already up and about, I slide out of bed and rub my eyes. I don’t have any excuses to hide behind now. There is no freaking way I can ignore or avoid what we did last night, and I panic, wanting to know what my story should be so I can stick to it.
As I slide my arms into a robe and tie it, he strides in. He’s already dressed, carrying two to-go cups of coffee. “Hey, you’re up.” He smiles, but there’s nothing special or secretive about it. He’s not giving me that knowing, cocky grin that suggests he’s thinking of something naughty. He’s not even speaking in a tender tone. Just casual. Whatever, like this is any old day, and I’m just another random person who shared a bed with him.
And it hurts.
It burns. This…coldness pierces me, but as soon as I recognize that I feel so wounded, I slap on a mask. We just had sex. Nothing more. But still…
I smile. “Yep. Sorry to keep you waiting.” It kills me to be so cavalier like this, to play along with his attitude. It’s crystal clear that he has no intention to treat me as a lover, as a woman he wants to worship. I’m just…Claire. I take the coffee, eager for a prop, for anything to focus on instead of trying to figure out why he’s acting like this.
As I take the cup, though, I almost drop it. Then, so off-kilter and riled up while trying to hide it, I overcompensate and almost trip over my own feet. This clumsiness isn’t like me. His stare is too potent on me, and I know my cheeks are burning up as I fidget under his gaze.
“You okay?”
I nod too quickly and gulp my coffee, effectively scalding my tongue.
“You seem jittery.”
“Nope.” I press my tongue to the top of my mouth, wishing I could cry; it hurts so bad. Damn coffee!
“Oh. I get it. You…” He rubs the back of his neck, arching one brow at me. “You wanna talk about last night.”
“No!” I hold up my hand and force a fast smile. He sure as hell doesn’t want to, and I’m not strong enough to explain why this sudden distance hurts. I knew nothing could happen between us, but apparently, I can only believe it after proving it with a huge mistake.
“Cool. Me neither.”
That’s freaking obvious.
“So, we’ll just, uh, hit the road then.” He smiles, but it lacks that warmth I’ve grown accustomed to. And right now, hating how quickly he’s dismissing me, I feel cold and alone, wishing I’d never come here with him at all.
Chapter 18
