Authors: Lilli Feisty
With great care he took her head between his hands and lowered his mouth to hers. “I want to fuck you now, Ruby.”
“Yes. Fuck me.” She’d never spoken this way before, but with him she couldn’t hold anything back. Like somehow it was easier to be herself with this stranger than with her family and friends.
Lifting his hips, he tugged off his jeans and boxers and kicked them aside.
“Put your hands on my shoulders.”
She did.
He took his cock in his hand and stroked down and up, slowly. Her pussy responded immediately with a steady, pulsing throb. She watched as he tore open a silver packet with his teeth, removed the condom and slid it over his erection. His hip bones were sharp and angular, his stomach flat. She loved watching the muscles of his body as he moved.
“Slide onto me, Ruby.”
She closed her eyes as he guided her. This was it, what she’d been waiting for. She slowly sank onto his body, and when he was inside her, she cried out from the satisfaction of it.
He filled her completely, physically and emotionally. She was dying to give herself over to him. Using her pelvis, she rocked against him back and forth, until she saw a little drop of sweat on his brow. Lust pooled inside her, between her legs.
“Don’t come,” he said.
Her hands clenched his strong, smooth shoulders as he lifted her up, then down, directed her. Every nerve in her body screamed, wanting release. Her own cries of ecstasy, animalistic and unlike anything she’d ever heard herself utter, contrasted with the soft jazz music, elevating the erotic energy already coursing though her body. Her orgasm, just out of reach, throbbed from her clit to the depths of her sex and deeper still.
She watched his eyes darken, his lids lower, and she fought the urge to lick the drop of sweat off his brow. She couldn’t take that initiative. Even now, with her riding him, he controlled her. His need to control and her need to submit seemed to pulse between them, like a living thing.
He leaned forward and took her nipple into his mouth. She arched against him, and when he bit her flesh she nearly died.
“Mark, please.” She loved to hear herself beg.
He looked up and his gaze was hard on hers. “Do you want to come?”
“Yes, please…
please
. I want to come.”
He removed her right arm from his shoulder and kissed the tip of her index finger. “Then fuck me.”
He sucked her finger into his mouth and she ground against him, moving until her clit rubbed his pelvic bone.
Yes, right there
…
“Mark!” She threw her head back as the climax ripped through her, tore her apart. And only then, with her finger on his tongue and her gaze locked on his, did he allow his own release.
She didn’t know how long she lay on top of him, a panting heap. He traced his fingers over her back, stroked her hair.
After a while she glanced over her shoulder at the photograph Ash had taken of her. Yes, it was beautiful. But it was like looking at an image of someone else. It was the image of someone trusting and foolish. It didn’t feel like her at all.
Now, suddenly, she was sick of the picture, sick of it in her home, sick of it on her wall. She suppressed the urge to stomp across the room, rip the thing down, and throw it out the window.
But then she remembered the photographs Mark had purchased. She thought of him looking at those images, and it softened her. Just thinking that he might look at them, that he would remember her a little, made her heart melt.
She kissed Mark’s cheek and closed her eyes. She wouldn’t think about that. Not now, not while she still lay slick and warm in his arms. There would be time for that tomorrow. After he’d gone.
Emmett finally walked in the door at two in the morning. Meg sat at their concrete counter, sipping decaf. Waiting.
He closed the door silently, tiptoed through the entry, and stepped into the open living area before he saw her. “Meg? What are you doing up?”
She smiled. “Waiting. For you.”
“Oh.” He looked past her shoulder. “Great.”
Sliding off the barstool, she let her robe drop to the floor, leaving herself dressed in nothing but a sheer black negligee. “I was hoping we might… you know… do it.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “God, Meg. I’m exhausted.”
She clenched her fists. “You never used to be too exhausted for sex.”
“That was before we bought this place, before the new studio, before…”
“Before what?” She swallowed down the ball of panic in her throat.
He shrugged, his shoulders bunching underneath his sweater. One of the things she’d loved about Emmett was his body, how he looked in clothes. He was tall and skinny and still wore Converse high-tops. He had spiky black hair and reminded her of Sid Vicious. All those things, combined with his sweet personality, had made her fall for him at first sight.
He came to her and placed a quick kiss on her forehead. “I’m sorry, babe. I promise, tomorrow I’ll have more energy.” He turned and walked away to their bedroom.
Tomorrow. How many times had she heard that? Swallowing back tears, Meg picked up her robe and followed him to bed.
R
uby was trembling in Mark’s arms.
He held her tightly, stroking her back as he kissed her nipples. He could feel the muscles of her arms spasm beneath his hands as she recovered from what they’d done.
What they’d done.
He was flying high still but beginning to crash. Didn’t matter. What mattered was Ruby in his arms, open and vulnerable and needing him to care for her.
He knew he’d taken her further than she’d ever allowed herself before, and now, with this petite beauty in his arms, he felt so much more than an obligation to be a responsible dom. The desire to protect her came from somewhere deep inside, and it was unfamiliar and primal.
He stroked her silky hair, and she smiled up at him, still dreamy. He wanted to see that look again, wanted to look in her eyes and see everything right there. It seemed that if he just searched her eyes long enough, he’d know all her secrets, her deepest fantasies. And fuck if he didn’t want to be part of those desires.
Wrapping her in a soft blanket he’d found draped over the couch, he laid her on the oversized chair.
As she rested her head against the back cushion she looked at him, her eyes wide and dark and so open; for a second he had to look away.
Then he leaned down and kissed her forehead. “Be right back.”
She nodded and closed her eyes.
Grabbing his jeans and T-shirt, he found his way to her bathroom, went inside and closed the door. He ran a hand over his head.
His hand was shaking.
Fuck.
Thinking about the fact that he had to leave in just a few hours made something go crazy inside him. He didn’t want to go. He wanted to be with her the whole damn day. Make her breakfast, learn how she took her coffee. Make love to her again. Make love to her slowly and sweetly. Watch her come again and again.
He tossed the condom into the garbage and went to the sink. In Ruby’s bathroom, there wasn’t a stray hair to be found, and soap, toothbrush, and tissue box were arranged symmetrically. Even her makeup brushes seemed to be arranged in order; they stuck out of a glass vase like a bouquet. Her bathroom represented her perfectly: feminine and controlled. Each little glimpse into her life— from her orderly bathroom to her alphabetized record collection—came at him like tiny revelations. He didn’t want to be this fascinated by these little things, but he was.
He picked up a bar of soap and brought it to his nose. Jasmine.
Ruby.
He turned on the faucet and lathered the soap between his hands, rubbing until a rich foam coated his palms. He washed his hands, his face, took his time. He massaged the silky soap into his skin, scrubbing up like a surgeon.
Why was it so hard to think of leaving?
Here he was, in the bathroom of a girl he’d met less than twelve hours ago, sniffing her soap and trying to memorize the scent.
This was a fucking first.
He rinsed the last of the soap off his hands and face and dried himself with a soft towel. Then he pulled on his jeans and yanked his T-shirt over his head.
Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped back into the hallway. And when he rounded the corner to her living room her eyes fell directly on his, as if she’d been watching for him, waiting for him.
Two steps and he was there. “Baby, you okay?”
She nodded and gave him a little smile. “I think I’m still trying to process what just happened.”
He got on his haunches, brushed her hair off her forehead and kissed her nose. “I’m going to put you to bed.” Sliding his arms under her, he lifted her body to his chest, and as he did so she held his gaze, her dark eyes wide. Fuck, she was beautiful.
He held her tighter to his chest and ignored the strange feelings boiling inside him. It was natural for a top to feel protective. He kept telling himself that as he walked to her room, kissed her temple. He inhaled the jasmine scent of her hair, tried to fill his lungs and his head so he wouldn’t forget her scent.
Her room was easy to find—it was past her bathroom and down a hallway peppered with photography. As curious as he was about her, he couldn’t look at them. He didn’t want to know if there were any other images of her that her ex had taken. He didn’t want to think about it. Couldn’t think about it.
Still wrapped in the blanket, he placed her on the bed. His gaze fell on her bedside clock and he looked away. It was morning. Time was passing fast, too fast.
She was trembling, her legs and arms shaking. He tucked the blanket tighter around her body.
Sitting on the bed next to her, he brushed a lock of hair off her face. “That was pretty fucking intense, yeah?” God, she was stunning even with her eye makeup smeared, her eyes bloodshot, and her hair messy. It was too much, too good. His throat closed up.
She blinked a few times. “I don’t even know what to say. With Ash it was so different. Not like this at all.”
At the mention of her ex’s name he frowned. The thought of her with another man made his stomach tighten.
“I’ll call you tomorrow night, I mean tonight. We have to meet with some suits in L.A., but I can call you as soon as we check into our hotel.”
She shook her head. “No, you don’t need to do that.”
“I
want
to do that.”
Closing her eyes, she pulled her hand out of his. “Really. It’s fine. This was really… great.”
“Great?”
“Yes.”
“That’s it?”
She narrowed her gaze, her eyes becoming more focused. “Yes. What else do you want it to be?”
“Ruby. I want to see you again.”
“You mean next time you pass through San Francisco? When will that be?”
He searched her eyes, not sure what he was looking for there. “We’ve decided to record here. Starting right away, so I’ll be here a few weeks.”
She pulled the blanket to her chin. “That’s great.” But she sounded less than happy, and Mark waited for her to go on.
“This was supposed to be a one-night thing. Nothing more,” she said.
“I’m not saying it will be.”
She sat up. “Exactly!”
He stood and pulled a worn quilt off a side chair, came back to her and tucked the second layer around her body. “Baby, you are making my head spin.” He couldn’t help but think that if this were any other girl, he’d have been out of there already. And yet here he was, practically begging to see her again.
“Listen,” she said, placing a hand on his. And when she looked at him her expression was downright placating. “This was, um, very pleasant, and you’re a really nice guy.”
Now
she
was giving
him
the nice-guy speech? When had he totally lost control of this night?
She smiled at him. “Tonight was new and intense, and I could just fall—” She bit her lip and looked away.
His heart missed a beat. “Fall for what, Ruby?”
After a deep breath she straightened and met his stare. “For a guy who’ll be gone by the end of the month. By the morning.”
It was like a punch to the gut. But what could he say? It was true.
Still, he wasn’t ready to leave her yet. “Listen, let’s talk about all that later. You’ve had an emotional night, and I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“I
am
okay.” She lifted her chin, a gesture he was coming to love and hate all at once. “Seriously. I’d rather you go.”
“Why are you fighting this so hard?”
Wide-eyed, she looked incredulous. “Fighting what, exactly?”
“This.” He waved his hand around the room, as if that frustrated gesture would explain everything.
“Don’t you see? I’m not fighting anything. I’m old enough to know how this works. Tonight, it’s me. Tomorrow night, it’ll be another girl.”
Her words made his blood run cold. “Is that how you see me?”
Nibbling her bottom lip, she just looked at him, her silence all the answer he needed.
Running a hand over his scalp, he took a calming breath. And truthfully, he couldn’t even deny her words. He had too many notches on his belt to refute what she’d said. But this was different; so different, he had no idea what to say.
She spoke to him as if he were a stubborn child. “Listen. I feel something right now, right here.” She pointed to her chest. “I don’t know if it’s because of what you did to me or something more. But I do know that I hate saying good-bye. More than anything. And the longer you stay, the harder it’s gonna be. So please. Just go.”
He shook his head. “It would be totally irresponsible for me to leave you now. It’s a dominant’s responsibility to care for his submissive.” The words sounded rote, mechanical. And desperate.
“I’m fine. Please, Mark. Go back to your hotel. Get some sleep.
Please. Just go
.”
“It doesn’t feel right.” And it didn’t. The total wrongness of the situation hit him like a punch in the gut. Just a short time ago he’d been flying after what had been a nearly perfect night with a nearly perfect woman. And now that perfect woman was kicking him out of her apartment.