It's Always Complicated (Her Billionaires Book 4) (36 page)

This was no long, drawn-out lovemaking session. This was the need to join, fast, hard and hot, a primal connection that came with hoarse cries and groans, with the need to bore into and be enveloped by each other.

As his fingers slid into her, his tongue sucked on hers, teeth biting her lips, then earlobes, and finally giving her nipples just enough pain, joined with his touch, to make her arch up and beg.

“Please. Please, now.” The outside air held a chill, the city sounds so much sharper here, her eyes catching the shine of sunlight that bounced off her wedding ring. Here in Europe, she’d learned, many married folks wore their rings on their right hands.

“Not yet,” he said, taking command, his words sending shock waves through her, his voice causing two distinct reactions that both took over her body. The sight of his broad, strong face tracing a trail down her body, his teeth grazing her ribs as he meandered between her legs, was as hot as the sight of a helicopter in the distance, unable to see them but buzzing like a witness to this ecstatic moment.

The thrill of his tongue on her was like being born again, his hands cupping her ass, hauling her forward with a brutal sensuality, their groans tangling like her fingers in his hair. Alex wasn’t delicate, not sensitive, and there was no gentlemanly deference as he used his tongue without mercy. This was a taking, and Josie was so, so ready to be
taken
.

“Oh, Alex,” she said, her voice coming out with a shaking intensity that caught up to her body within seconds, the call of a bird like a thousand cries, the push of wind against her nipples like a hurricane, the rush of her orgasm against his mouth so kinetic that the wall between his skin and her skin melted into nothing but pleasure. Josie was him and he was her, but he had her under his spell, his tongue maddening and demanding, taking and taking as it gave, forcing her into an abyss of wonder as she warmed and chilled, exploded and receded, her fingers clawing at his bare shoulders, desperate to touch him, to taste him.

To
be
just a tiny part of him.

And then.

His finger turned inside her, just slightly, and Josie tipped into another world.

And she screamed his name until she took her own hand, placed it between her teeth, and bit down, the pain joining the ecstasy as she rode him, Alex keeping up with her, his unspoken vow quite clear:

You are
mine
.

And you will know it. I will embed that knowing in every cell of you.

Limp and twitching, she began to push him away, but his grip was iron. He moaned against the soft flesh of her clit and she shivered, a new wave of increasing intensity find its way through her blood. Again? How could she—

Again.

Again indeed.

He moved up and flipped her, hands on muscle as if he trained for this very moment. Med school classes might serve to train future doctors, but anatomy and physiology took a very different patina when in the hands of a man who not only knew the name of every muscle he moved on her body, he knew how to make certain muscles spasm with divine euphoria.

The brush of the tops of his thighs against her ass made her groan, her face pointed toward the city, her view obscured by the metal latticework of the balcony’s railing. She knew what he was about to do and oh, how she ached to have him in her, but no.

Not yet.

She had a few demands of her own.

Squirming away from him, soaked to mid-thigh with her own juices, her skin scorched by orgasm and thrill, she turned, bare ass to the wind. He stood reflexively and she avoided his eyes, placing first one, then both, of his hands on the railing. Dropping to her knees, she decided it was time to give.

And take.

“No, I want to be in
you—
” he said, the word tapering off with a choked groan as he braced himself for her hot, wet mouth. She knew he loved this, and rarely gave him her mouth when they were outdoors, oddly shy when it came to giving oral sex yet able to have actual intercourse under the banner of dangerousness and open air.

She pulled her mouth back and blew on the tip. “Watch the Eiffel Tower while you come, Alex. Welcome to Paris.”

Jaunty and uninhibited, she stroked the root of his shaft while her mouth took him in deep, past the first strong muscle in her throat, her other hand exploring his balls, touching him with a focused energy designed to give him a new kind of satisfaction. She barely grazed his ass with one careful finger, wondering what he would do, her mouth curving up in delicious delight at the thought.

“What are you—oh, God!” he called out, his body jerking.

He came instantly, the hot surprise making her swallow, the feel of his powerful body trembling before her, before all of Paris, outdoors and under the smiling grace of the sun so vivid. She was in charge. She gave him this. She made him relax and come here to this foreign land where they could be just Alex and Josie, without expectations or responsibilities, and as she stilled her mouth against the tip of his cock, one hand still pumping, she lengthened his pleasure, for that was her job, right?

To give him more of everything good in life.

Harsh breaths punctuated the air, a chill triggering goosebumps along her naked body. He dropped, slowly, to a crouch, limp in every way, and their eyes met.

“Welcome to Paris?” he said with a laugh, dropping to sit, pulling her into his lap and wrapping the coverlet about them both. She curled into him, finding her perfect curve, nestled into his chest and heart.

“What?” She throbbed and hummed, all raw emotion and endless hope.

“That’s the best you could do in the heat of the moment? ‘Welcome to Paris’?”

“What else am I supposed to say?”

“How about ‘I love you’?”

“Clich
é
d.”

“Maybe I like clich
é
d!”

“I love you.”

“That’s better.”

“
Everything’s
better, Alex.”

“It will be in ten minutes.”

“What happens in ten minutes?”

He lifted his hips up just an inch.

“
That
? You think it’ll only be ten minutes?” Waiting even ten minutes felt like an eternity, though. Primed and pulsing, she was more than ready to have him in her, to be reminded in flesh and push, in gasps and friction, that they weren’t just soulmates.

They were joined in every way.

He pretended to think about it. “Twenty.” His face was flush with sex, erotic and full, lips red from kissing. He smelled like her and she loved him so much for it.

“You think an awful lot of yourself.”

“I have to. I’m a doctor. God Complex and all that.” He squeezed her tight, his breath shifting to calm, even patterns. They watched the tourists below, smaller than ants, then their eyes were drawn to the tower.

She turned to him with her lips, ready for a kiss.

And he was right there to give it.

Central Massachusetts

Laura

“You’re sure you’re not upset about the honeymoon?” Mike asked her for the umpteenth time.

“Would you stop asking that?” The wedding had been fabulous, under the circumstances, but Mike had been exhausted. The day of merriment, now two days in the past, had involved the chaotic happiness of kids and in-laws, Mike’s parents and Dylan’s mom and dad, and the promise to stay in touch with Big Mike and Mary.

“This cabin sure isn’t Paris.” Mike looked around the sex den...er, cabin, with a scowl. Laura knew he was disappointed to call off their big trip to Europe, but he was a realist. Traveling with newly broken bones—especially those ribs—wasn’t a smart idea.

“It’s fine,” she repeated. “We’ll get to Paris someday. But flying with any pain is a bad idea. Plus, we want to be near our doctors if you need extra attention. And Josie and Alex were thrilled by the offer to take our places!”

“We should have given them something big like that as a present anyhow,” Dylan added, uncorking a bottle of
m
erlot in the kitchen.

“Didn’t think about it,” Mike said, brightening. “So there’s a silver lining. At least someone will get some action while looking out on the Eiffel Tower.”

“Think of all the fun they’ll have in Paris,” Dylan said.

“Croissants. Coffee. French fine dining,” Laura said softly. “What’s for dinner?” she asked Dylan, who made a funny face.

“Uh, frozen enchiladas.” He shrugged as he poured three glasses of wine. “It was the best I could do on short notice.”

Mike groaned. “Great. It’s bad enough that I am the cause of not going to Paris on our honeymoon, but now our dinner is something you microwave?”

“They’re organic,” Dylan said in a defensive tone.

“Guys! I did not come on my honeymoon to hear you fight!”

“We came on our honeymoon to come,” Dylan replied.

Mike groaned.

“What? Is it some kind of secret that we’re going to have sex? There are more sex toys in that closet over there,” he said, pointing with the corkscrew, “than in a whorehouse.”

“You’ve frequented whorehouses?” Laura asked, eyebrow up.

“No. It just sounded pithy.”

“Since when do you need to sound pithy?” Mike asked.

“Since I decided to become a Pith Lord.”

Mike and Laura groaned.

“Do we really have an entire week here, with the kids just up the road at the house?” Laura asked, downing half her wine without thinking. The idea seemed unreal. She hadn’t had an entire week alone with her guys since she was pregnant with Jillian, three and a half years ago.

“Whatever will we do?” Dylan said with a leer.

“We can binge-watch all the shows we’ve missed for the past three years!” she chirped.

“I was thinking along other lines,” Mike said, sliding his hand up Laura’s knee, making her throat burble with laughter.

A week. An entire week. No diapers, no middle-of-the-night wakings, no constant whining, no chaotic noise. Laura had weaned the boys right before the wedding, so no nursing anymore. While she’d been wistful, she’d also been ready. So had they, to her surprise.

“Seriously.” Dylan frowned, downed the rest of his wine, and gave Laura an incredulous look. “A week? I think my cock’ll fall off by Friday if we try to catch up on all the sex we’ve missed for the past three years.”

“Good thing Mike has one, then,” she said, motioning for Dylan to pour her another glass of wine.

“I’m one-handed,” Mike said, waving his cast between the three of them.

“We’re not talking about how you jack off,” Dylan said with a fake sigh.

“Really?” Laura protested. “You want to talk about masturbation
now
?”

“I want to talk about this one hand I have and how it is going to have to do the job of two,” Mike said, kissing Laura’s neck. He abandoned his wine glass and she finished hers, misjudging how full it was after Dylan had poured a new glass. A drop of wine slid down her chin to her neck.

“Oh,” Dylan said in a low, thick voice. “Let me help you with that.” He bent down, the tip of his tongue making her body tingle as he grazed his way up between her breasts, his lips on her, suckling harder than he needed to. Reaching into her shirt, he pulled one breast out of her bra cup and continued his journey, his mouth pulling in one nipple, making her groan.

A week, huh?

Oh, this was going to be grand.

“I’m not sure,” Mike said, his breath quickening, “what I can do without a hand, and with a barely-recovering body.”
T
hey’d stayed at the campground for two days after the wedding, sending Josie and Alex off, giving Mike a chance to prepare his body for the long car drive home.

“Your cock didn’t break, right?” Dylan asked.

Laura reached for Mike’s package, finding him tight and thick. “No,” she replied for him, delighting in slipping her fingers under his waistband, savoring the moment her fingertips made contact with the soft, rigid flesh..

“My mouth works,” Mike interjected as he groaned, the sound strangely satisfying.

“Thank God,” she muttered, going in for a kiss.

This was the first time since she’d given birth to Jillian where the sheer luxury of time spread out before her like an ocean as the tides came in, seemingly endless, massively powerful, and a reminder of how so much of the world remained out of access because it was so complex as to be invisible.
A week. An entire, glorious week. She felt so rich with
time
.
 

Sex was sex, and she knew, as she kissed Mike, Dylan’s hands on her, unbuttoning her blouse and freeing her breasts from her bra, that they would have lots of it. Operationally, that was obvious.

Even
required
when you’re on your honeymoon.

Some deeper sense of self, in triplicate, emerged as she contemplated the fact that they had one entire week to devote to each other. No jobs. No foundations. No dating services o
r
music classes or swimming lessons or teething. The kids were in suspended animation (not literally) for a week while she, Mike and Dylan reconnected.

A week to be focused on each other.

Laura felt like a virgin all over again.

“You all right?’ Dylan whispered in her ear, making her shiver. She dipped her head before he could lick her ear and laughed.

Halting and tentative suddenly, the overwhelming sense that their wedding had redefined them swept over her, consuming her mind, making it race with the thousands of tiny thoughts that added up to a swarm. Her body wanted to enjoy the kiss, the caresses, the feeling of fabric against skin as Dylan stripped her nude, but she couldn’t shake the torrent of thoughts that reframed how she viewed this week. This life.

Like a prism, a tiny turn of an angle made the world explode into color and devastating brightness, her present illuminated and laid bare, her sense of self questioned.

And then, just like that, it all melted away.

This was her world. Now. It could collapse into a tiny speck, or expand into new realms, so far-flung they stretched stardust beyond infinity. Shifting her perspective was all it took, and as she closed her eyes and let herself breathe, feeling the stroke of D
yl
an’s callused palm against her bare back, the prickle of Mike’s stubble on her chin, the sound of birds in the woods outdoors, and the scent of wine on Mike’s breath, she felt that change inside herself, outside herself, and the warm, full sense that every part of what she needed, what she craved, was always accessible.