Come Together (16 page)

His hand returned between my legs, opening me up. I was trembling as he played with me, alternating between rubbing my clit, inserting a finger and rubbing my wetness over me. When I felt the pressure of his cock against me, I shuddered.

His other hand pulled my hair at the same moment he shoved into me, propelling me forward. I gasped, my knuckles whitening on the edge. He slid out and then inched back in so I felt myself stretching and then closing around him.

“You’re made for me,” he growled.

“Because I’m yours.”

He gave me another hard thrust, bouncing me forward. “You know I fucking love when you say that.”

His body closed over mine, and his breath was hot on my shoulder. He rocked into me, picking up his pace as he tugged on my hair.

“Pull it,” I pleaded through gritted teeth. His fist tightened and yanked. He kissed the skin at the nape of my neck and then between my shoulder blades, all the while driving steadily into me. He wrapped both hands over my shoulders, straightened up and began hammering me as he pulled me back onto him.

I squeezed my eyes shut and whimpered as I took him to the base. “Oh, God,” I yelled into the bite of pain. I braced myself against the bench and pushed back harder.

“Christ, yes, give it back to me,” he uttered. I faintly registered the sound of slapping skin echoing throughout the shower. As one hand knotted back into my hair, he spanked me again.

Then he was pulling on my biceps, demanding my hands behind my back. His fingers wrapped around my wrists, putting me in his complete control. His grip tightened and my arms twisted as he took me fast, growling from behind gritted teeth as he got closer.

This was his finale; this was how he wanted me to come. My breath caught as my insides coiled for him, lost in the sensation of submission. My toes curled into the stone floor; I held on and clenched around him, squeezing his dick and eliciting incoherent words of praise from him.

As I tipped over the edge, I had the urge to grab something and hold on, but he still had me tightly in his grip. I could only focus on the heat rippling through my body in rays of molten bliss and somewhere in my consciousness I heard his roar, felt his warmth begin to flow, pouring himself into me,
only me, I’m doing this to him.

I fell to my knees, and once I was down, he released my wrists.

“Jesus,” he said, staring at me, his breathing labored. “You’re on fire in the morning.”

I only looked back at him, blinking and trying to catch my own breath. “It’s your fault,” I said as he bent down and hauled me to my feet. “Those sweatpants . . .”

His eyebrows shot up. “Sweatpants?”

“You, shirtless, sweatpants,” I managed. “Super sexy, honey.”

He grinned. “You blow me first thing in the morning. Then you let me fuck you to your knees. Now you’re telling me I’m sexy?”

“Not sexy. Super sexy,” I corrected.

His eyes darkened, and he seized my waist, jerking me to him. “Mmm,” he moaned against my mouth, squeezing me. “I love your pussy that wet, your wrists in my hands, letting me give it to you hard as I can. You’re so tight, but you take it.”

I nodded against his mouth. “I can take it,” I whispered.

He drew back slightly, and his eyes were different; softer, but still intense. “Christ, I lose myself in you. I could fuck you again right now, just as hard. I’m like a damn teenager.”

“I lose myself too,” I said softly, running my hands along biceps I would never tired of touching.

“Is it too much?” he asked.

I thought about the rolling, destructive orgasm that had just brought me to my knees and shook my head. It was his utter and complete control that had taken me there. “Oh, God, yes, too much, and it’s perfect.”

He kissed me deeply before trailing hard kisses over my temple to the top of my head. I let him hold me for a minute before pulling back. “I’m going to be late,” I reminded him.

“I’d better start setting my alarm earlier,” he said. I laughed, even though he hadn’t meant it to be funny. “Holy fuck,” he said to himself, shaking his head.

~

I wiped drool, real or imaginary, I wasn’t sure, from the corner of my mouth. Watching David get dressed for work was as beautiful a way to start the day as anything I could think of. It was hard to believe that we’d only really been doing this a few days. He’d shaken me from my waking sleep and introduced me to a life of color, hope, love and sex. Rip-roaring, amazing, out-of-this-world sex. He flipped his collar and did up his tie in the mirror while I gaped like an audience member at
Cirque du Soleil
.

“It doesn’t normally take me this long to put on a tie, but you’re distracting me,” he said, his eyes fastened on the mirror.

“Sorry.” My cheeks heated, and I looked around the massive closet, taking in the absurd amount of suits, ties, dress shirts and shoes. My insides stirred when I thought of what I might like to do to businessman David in one of his fancy suits.

Snap out of it!
I’d fantasized about David countless times since we’d met, but now I had him, and I’d just
had
him in the shower. Why was I still fantasizing?

I refocused my attention on picking out an outfit for work, eyeing the pieces we’d purchased over the weekend. I smiled when I spotted the simple black dress he’d zipped me into right after he’d made me come quietly with his fingers. I stared at the dress on the hanger as our conversation from that moment filtered through my mind. Something he’d said had nagged at me, but in my post-orgasmic stupor, I couldn’t grasp it.

“You have one like this, don’t you? With the thingie?” he asked, motioning to the shoulder of the dress.

I smiled, amused that he was at all familiar with my wardrobe. “The rosette. Yes, I do.”

“What’s wrong?” David asked, jarring me from the memory.

I looked up. “I’ve never worn that dress around you,” I said.

“Pardon?” he asked, righting his collar and glancing over at me.

“The black dress with the ‘thingie’ on the shoulder. You said I already owned something like it,” I paused to pull out the new dress, “but how did you know? I never wore the other dress around you.”

“Are you sure?” He walked over to peck me sweetly on the lips. His fingers pushed hair from my face. “I’ve seen you in your work clothes lots of times.” He cleared his throat and looked away.

I was sure because I’d only worn that dress once. Instantly, heavy tears welled in my eyes, and one dropped down my cheek. “You were there, weren’t you?”

He took a deep breath, ran his thumb over my cheekbone and looked directly at me. “Yes. I was at Davena’s funeral.”

My chin quivered, and I wiped my face, careful not to smear my makeup. “Why?”

His mouth twitched as he looked at me, and finally, he shrugged. “Why do you think? You had her death to deal with, plus Mark Alvarez, plus running out on me days before. I was worried.”

“But I never saw you.”

“I stayed in the back so you wouldn’t.”

“You were there, and you didn’t say anything? How did you know when . . . where?”

“It wasn’t hard,” he said sadly. “I heard you tell Bill that day you were in my car when it would be. And you told him you wouldn’t mind going alone if he had to work. It broke my heart. I know he went, I saw you two, but the fact that you thought he might not? And, fuck, but you weren’t okay, I could see it . . . and he didn’t do shit . . . I wish it had been me by your side.” I just continued to look at him with mild shock. After a beat, he asked, “Are you mad?”

“Mad?” I exclaimed. “I can’t believe you did that for me.”

“I told you I was looking out.” He smiled down at me and ran his thumb under one of my eyes and then the other. “Don’t cry.”

“I’m so lucky,” I said. Before he could respond, I rose on the balls of my feet to kiss him, steadying myself on his forearms. Even then he had to lean down to meet me. After a tender kiss, he asked, “What do you want for breakfast?”

It was such a regular, everyday inquiry, but I couldn’t help smiling wider. We were a couple now, and those were the things couples asked each other. “I’ve been too preoccupied to think about it.”

“Mmm, preoccupied you say?” he asked, reaching under my robe and tightening his hand over my ass. “What do you want?”

“Hmm?” I was focused only on the way his hand possessively pulled me against him.

“For breakfast.”

“Did I ever tell you how sexy you look in a suit?” I breathed in a rush of air.

“Don’t distract me. Breakfast?”

I sighed. “I don’t have time. You go eat while I finish getting ready.”

His eyebrows dipped together. “Olivia – ”

“I don’t have time to argue either,” I said, turning away from him. “I’ll eat a big lunch.”

He grunted but left me so I could get dressed. I sneaked a peek at his behind as he left the closet and vowed to get myself some businessman David very soon.

CHAPTER 12

THE SIMPLE ACT OF being driven to work, something that millions of people participated in every day, felt like a gift. Still, though I’d loved spending guilt-free time with David, my anxiety returned as we neared my office.

I could anticipate some reactions, but not my co-workers’. They all knew David as one of Chicago’s top bachelors featured in our
Most Eligible
issue months before. And most of them also knew Bill. I sighed when I thought of all the explaining I’d have to do in the near future and decided to put it off for as long as possible.

“This weekend was crazy and hectic and a whirlwind,” I told David as he drove, “but in the best way possible.”

He reached over to rub my knee. “Don’t forget, we have a date tonight.”

I grinned. “Can’t wait.”

“Have lunch with me too. Something big and greasy to make up for missing breakfast.”

I laughed. “I have a date tonight. Don’t want to look fat.”

“Fat?” he grumbled. “Is that supposed to be a joke?”

“Yep.”

“It’s not funny.”

I stifled a laugh. “All right. Yes, handsome, I’ll have lunch with you.” I waited a moment before peeking over to see if he’d settled. “God, you are handsome, though.”

He rolled his eyes. “Take a picture, it’ll last longer.”

And that’s exactly what I did.
I pulled out my new phone and found a missed call from the night before.
Bill.
A missed call from the husband I’d devastated a few days earlier was not surprising but definitely unsettling.

I ignored it and snapped a picture of David’s perfect profile. The profile that, in this same position, I’d fallen for months ago when I was agonizing over not being able to touch him. For that, I reached over and felt the muscles of his arm under his shirt. He turned into my hand when I raised it to touch his hair. I played with the ends, so as not to mess it up, until we arrived at my office building.

“I’ll get that,” he said, reaching for my seatbelt. My face heated as his fingers grazed the houndstooth wool fabric of my new skirt, and I wished suddenly there wasn’t so much of it. He hit the release but his hand lingered, sliding up my thigh until his fingers brushed between my legs. I involuntarily sucked in a breath.

He leaned over awkwardly in the small space of the car and kissed me on the cheek. “Let’s ditch,” he said against the corner of my mouth, and I sighed. “I’ll take you home, throw you on the bed, watch you ride me ‘til you come on my dick. Then I’ll flip you on your back, make you come again underneath me.”

I was whimpering as his hand compressed my thigh. He raised that large hand, spread it against my collarbone and wrapped his other hand around my head, splaying it over my cheek. He turned my face directly to him and whispered, “You know, when you’re about to come, your body trembles like a leaf. It makes me rock hard just thinking about it.” He kissed me forcefully and much too deeply for the start of a workday. His tongue invaded my mouth, thorough and probing like it was searching for something. When he pulled away abruptly, I might have been swaying, and I definitely saw stars. “You’re now officially late,” he noted.

I was somehow both breathless and breathing heavy, and it took me a moment before I said, “Shit.”

“Want me to write you a note?” he asked behind a smile as I gathered my things.

“Beman would be thrilled, actually,” I muttered. “He has a crush on you.”

His grin faded. “I don’t like your boss, Olivia.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t like Arnaud,” I retorted and clamped my hand over my mouth. “I’m sorry.”

“What? Why not?”

“I’m sorry, baby,” I said, pecking him on the lips. “I didn’t mean it. Gotta run.” I shut the door and took a few steps before turning and waving quickly.

It wasn’t that I worried David would tell his colleague what I thought but that I didn’t want David to feel weird bringing me around the office. He’d worked with Arnaud Mallory for most of his professional career, and that included their house-flipping business on the side. I had enough conflict in my life. I vaguely remembered David referring to Arnaud as a brilliant architect, which meant he wasn’t exactly expendable.