Headstrong (19 page)

He swallowed. “I thought about touching you. That I was fucking you with my fingers.”

Damn, this was going to be filthy. Excellent. “What else?”

His eyes shut.

Libby laid a hand on his collarbone and repeated herself, close to his ear. “What else?”

“I imagined I was fucking you with my fingers…that I made you so wet and tight and hot for me.”

She felt herself blush, and not just in her cheeks. “And what then?”

“You begged me to give you my dick. You told me you were aching to have me inside you.”

“God.” She didn’t care that she was giving away her own excitement.

“You begged and begged until I finally submitted, and I gave it to you.” Reece was rough with himself now, strokes quickening. He moaned softly, as though surrendering.

“You put your dick in me?” Her eyes locked on it.

“Yeah. Oh God…”

“Keep talking.” Libby couldn’t remember feeling this aroused before. If she was ever going to have an orgasm, it would be with this man. On this bed.

Reece panted, lost in his own pleasure. “I’m fucking you, deep and hard. You tell me it feels so good, that my dick is so big and thick and hard and you love it.”

Her eyes widened. “It is.”

“Then I make you come and you say my name over and over and you’re so tight and wet that I think I’m going to explode.”

She licked her lips, parched. “Come for me. Let me see.”

“Oh Christ.”

“How does it end?”

“You beg me to come inside you, as I’m fucking you. You tell me, ‘Come on Reece, come inside me. Shoot your hot come inside me.’”

“Jesus, that’s filthy,” she mumbled, breathless with impatience. “Come for me now.”

He stroked himself fast and hard and rough, gasping.

“Keep going.”

His body clenched, his hand freezing and holding his dick tightly as he shot, releasing in three long lashes across his clenched abdomen. He choked out her name.

Libby stared at him, drunk on excitement and triumph. “Wow.”

“Fuck.” Reece’s chest rose and fell deeply as he fought to catch his breath.

“That was
the
hottest thing ever.” Libby gave herself a mental slap on the wrist.
Don’t give yourself away, now.
She ruffled Reece’s hair. “Good work, Professor.”

“Yeah.” He lay still, finding his senses.

Libby slid off the bed and pulled her tank top and jeans back on. “I’m going to get some water. Want anything?”

“No, ta.”

She tossed him a towel from the hamper as she slipped out of the room. “Clean yourself up, Romeo. We’re not done yet.”

By the time she returned, Reece had pulled his underwear back on but looked otherwise indisposed.

She sat down at the edge of the bed. “Recovered yet?”

“Getting there. Crikey. I want to say thanks, but I know that was meant to be for you. But thanks.”

“Yeah, thanks. Are you ruined for the rest of the night?”

“Nah.” He sat up and propped his elbows on his knees, glancing from side to side. He blew out a delirious breath.

“I wish I could do that,” Libby said with leading vagueness.

“What? Make a mess on yourself?”

“No. You know…come.”

He snapped awake. “Beg pardon?”

“I wish I could come.”

“You can’t?”

“I haven’t. Ever.”

“Have you
tried
?”

“Well…not really. Not very hard. I’ve tried a
bit
. Sex makes me clam up, usually. It’s different with you.”

Reece covered his face with his hands and rubbed his temples. He raised his chin to stare at her, eyes huge. “Why do you always have to drop these blooming bombshells on me?”

“I like watching you squirm.”

“No, really, Libby. I mean, what am I supposed to do with that information?”

“Nothing. I was just saying—”

“You’re such a fucking instigator.” Reece looked miserable for a moment then grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into a sloppy, spooning hug beside him. He groaned into her hair. “What is
wrong
with you?”

Libby felt something alarming rise inside her. Without any warning to either of them, something snapped and she began to cry, great, convulsive sobs racking her body.

“Oh, Libby.” Reece managed to make exasperation sound comforting. “What is it?”

“I don’t know,” she whispered. Hot tears slipped sideways down her face and dropped onto the bedspread. Reece’s arms around her middle tightened, and she felt his breath warming the crown of her head.

“Why did you tell me that?” he demanded.

“I don’t know.”

“Do you want me to do something? Do you want me to make you come?”

“I…yeah.”

“Libby, that’s unfair. That’s not in the rules of this little game we’re playing. Me objectifying myself for you is one thing. You asking me to do intimate things to you, things you don’t even know how to do to yourself… That’s beyond it. That’s boyfriend territory.”

“But you’ve been thinking about me, that way. You said so.”

“What goes on in my head is different than what goes on between us, here. Do you have any idea how hard it is for me to do all this?” he asked. “To walk this weird line between friends and lovers and…and like, shady business partners with you, and to keep things neutral so you feel safe? Do you have any clue how worried I am that I’m going to do something wrong and freak you out? I have to draw the line someplace.”

“I’m sorry.” Libby was mortified by how broken her voice sounded. She’d never wanted anyone to see her this vulnerable, certainly not Reece Nolan. “I should go home.”

She made to pull away but Reece yanked her back and held her tighter, nearly knocking her breath out. “No way. You don’t get to leave here in this state.”

“I want to go.”

“No, you don’t, you just don’t want me to see you all weepy. You say we’re mates and you’ve watched me beat off, so now I get to see you cry. You owe me that.”

Libby gave in, sobbing until her eyes were swollen and stinging. After twenty minutes, Reece shifted and pulled her over so she was on her back. He stared down at her. Libby wasn’t one to fret about the state of her dress or face or hair, but she felt like an utter mess just now.

Reece’s next words surprised her. “You want to come?”

“I’m sorry about that—”

“Is that what you want?”

“I wasn’t thinking—”

He gave her shoulder a shake. “Is that what you want?”

Libby nodded.

“Let’s get you off, then.”

“Now?” Her face crumpled further.

“Yeah. You’re relaxed, right? You’re already spent from the crying. Your breathing’s nice and steady now.”

“I don’t know.”

“Since when are you unsure about anything?” Reece asked, teasing.

She mustered a small, broken smile. “Okay.”

“I can’t guarantee any results. You should have had about fifteen years of practice at this by now.”

“I’m a late bloomer.”

“Personally, I think you should be learning this on your own.”

Libby looked around, suddenly nervous. “What should we…how do we do it?”

“Well, we need to get you massively horny.” Reece said.

“How romantic.”

“What would make you…you know.”

“Massively horny?”

Reece nodded.

“Can we watch TV and make out?”

He made a face. “Is that going to do it for you?”

“That’s what I want. I want to make out with you over some bad TV. Or a Steve McQueen movie.”

“Are you actually aware that there’s media from after 1980?”

Libby was getting back into the spirit of the evening. “Yes…let’s have some more wine and see what’s on the tube. Colin’s not coming up anytime soon, right?”

“He’s on ’til one. We’ve got a couple hours yet.” Reece’s voice betrayed a trace of anxiety.

Libby flashed her best devious smile. “Then we better get cracking.”

Reece swallowed hard, pulled on his pants and a shirt. He left Libby on the couch with the clicker and slipped downstairs to the pub.

Colin peeled his attention off the rugby and met his brother’s eyes across the bar. “What’ll it be, old-timer?”

Reece slapped on his best expression of calm assertiveness. “Can you jot me down for a bottle of red? I’ll grab it out of the supply cupboard.”

“Oh?”

Reece nodded, encapsulating a far more substantive message.

Colin looked back at the screen, unable to hide a sour face.

“It’s not
exactly
what you’re thinking,” Reece added as a consolation.

Colin clenched his jaw then swallowed whatever was choking him. “Go to it. Have a good night, mate.” He grabbed a ledger and scribbled a note.

“Ta.” Reece reached over and gave his brother a steadying—or perhaps commiserating, or perhaps deeply apologetic—clap on the shoulder. Colin met his eyes coldly and nodded his acceptance.

Chapter Ten

Libby looked up from the television as Reece reappeared holding a bottle of the pub’s hideous house merlot. Her stomach did a flip-flop, a mix of nerves and excitement.

“I have found us the greatest pre-orgasm programming ever,” she announced.

Reece set the bottle on the coffee table and looked to the screen. “
Charlie’s Angels?
”

“How perfect is that? Must be season three—we’ve got Cheryl
and
Farrah.”

“Seriously, what is wrong with you? Do you only enjoy things from before you were born?”

“I was around when cassettes were,” she said, skirting his question. She shushed him until a commercial came on. “Okay, crack it open.”

Reece poured them each a tumbler of wine and sat beside her on the couch, making her heart race anew. He grabbed the remote and turned the volume way down. “Still want to do this?”

“Yeah, of course.” She heard how meek she sounded and it humbled her.

“Do you want…gentle? Or…”

“Hot and heavy?” she offered in a mock-sultry voice.

Reece’s frown demanded a straight answer.

“Hot and heavy,” she confirmed in a normal tone.

Reece clinked his glass against hers, swallowed a fortifying gulp then replaced both on the table. His hands took her face, his lips took her own.

She knew this mouth well now. She knew it with more fondness and intimacy than any other mouth on the planet, and it was the only one she
wanted
to know. This kiss was different than the ones they’d been practicing all week—this one wasn’t a favor. Or perhaps it was even
more
of a favor. In any case, Reece was kissing her with a different motive now, aiming to give her pleasure, not instruction.

Libby hadn’t known a kiss could do this. It made her feel that blush again, between her legs, the way seeing him helplessly turned on a half hour earlier had. She let herself surrender to it, let her mouth do whatever it wanted right back, let her hands roam wherever they wished. Reece stayed steady throughout her explorations, the consummate professional.

“Uh,” she said against his lips.

“Is this all right?”

“This is perfect…”

“But?” he prompted. “Let me know what you want. This is all about you, what turns you on. Don’t be shy.”

“I want to know that you’re into it. I like when you’re all…worked up. I need you to stop doting and just get into it.”

His mouth moved to her earlobe. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like when you’re a big horny mess. That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“As long as I don’t seem like a creepy pervert, you’ve got it.”

His voice so close to her ear made her shiver. “No no, be a creepy pervert. That’s what I liked before, when you were all…”

“Horny as fuck?” he ventured.

“Exactly. You know, all your noises and things. Give me that. Or fake it.”

“You got it.”

“You’re so accommodating, lover.”

Reece pulled away. “One ground rule,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

Libby raised her brows.

“No blooming nicknames for the duration of this experiment. Call me Reece. That’s the price of admission.”

“To Orgasm Adventure Park? You got it…Reece.” Damn, that felt vulnerable.

“Good.” His lips and tongue came back to take hers.

Colin locked the door as the last customer shuffled out into the night, a good half hour after the pub’s normal closing time. He’d pushed last-call back, not ready to finish his shift. The hold he’d managed to keep on his feelings had carried him through most of the evening, but now everything he’d suppressed flooded back in a nauseous wave. A completely
irrational
nauseous wave. Then again, Colin could appreciate that feelings didn’t need to be rational to hurt like hell.

The bar and tables were wiped down, stools up, the glasses loaded and the washer churning away. He was tempted to mop, normally his mother’s job in the early afternoon, just to put off the inevitable trip up the stairs and into the flat. At this moment they looked like the march to the hangman’s gallows.

Be a man.

He ran his hands over his hair and pushed out a long breath, crossed the floor. Easy enough. Up the stairs, through the door. Then, what shouldn’t have felt like a bullet in the heart but distinctly did. The living room was still and dark, the streetlight coming through the windows showing him that the couch was unoccupied.

Flipping on the light, Colin steeled himself. He stoically gathered the two half-empty glasses of wine from the coffee table, replaced the cap on the bottle and carried it all to the kitchen counter.

As the glasses clinked against the tile, panic gripped him. He needed to get out. Now.

Through the living room, down the steps, past the bar and out into the night.

Reece eased Libby’s shirt up and over her head and tossed it beside the bed. He lay back down to resume fooling around, but her body felt all at once rigid and unwelcoming. He kissed her neck, obediently staying in character, trying to give her what she’d asked for.

A few minutes later, when she still hadn’t relaxed, he asked, “Are you all right?”

She bit her lip. “I’m nervous about being naked in front of you.”

Reece smiled. She could soften him when she was like this. He liked this side of her—more than he wanted to. This was the elusive, vulnerable, authentic Libby, the one who clouded his mind when they kissed and made him think things when he was alone that he’d frankly prefer he didn’t.