Beautiful Mine (Beautiful Rivers #1) (15 page)

Whitney

Martini Ranch has a large bar in the center with a restaurant on one side and dance floor on the other. Though not formal, it has great atmosphere and fantastic food. During dinner, Connor asks me about work again. The tour wasn’t exactly conducive to deep conversation, and he wants to know how I’m really doing.

How I’m doing, right now, is not so well. But work has nothing to do with it.

I tell him more or less what I told him on the tour, keeping my most difficult struggles with work to myself. I don’t tell him that in my darkest moments I think seriously about quitting, because in those moments I feel too weak to stay. I don’t tell him about my dark moments at all. I decide I shouldn’t share the hard stuff. It’s too intimate, and I’m trying to hold back. That’s what we’re doing, right? Putting a fence around things?

Maybe this really is better. Not so painful.

Maybe.

As we finish our meal, I’m starting to feel anxious that it’s all about to come to an end. I’m relieved when he suggests we hop over to the other side and either hang at the bar or do some dancing.

“I don’t know if you like to dance,” he says, but I’m already on my feet and grabbing his hand.

“I love to dance.”

He laughs and follows behind. I do love to dance, too, and don’t get near enough of it at home. It’s another non-entity, actually, like my non-existent love life. As I pull him onto the dance floor, the music pounding in my chest, I decide this is the perfect way to get out some of my frustration. He doesn’t want to kiss me? Fine. He can sure as hell dance with me.

The DJ is playing “Shots” by Imagine Dragons, and the song is half over. It’s a blast to dance to, though, and I let myself go. Smiling and following my lead, Connor gets into it too. This guy can move. No surprise.

So that’s what we do. The DJ is kind to me, and plays the fast songs. The ones I can’t help but move to. The ones that are helping me forget. And Connor is right there with me, still in his dress pants and shirt, dancing like the free bird he is.

We keep our distance. Until we don’t.

“Naughty Girl” by Beyonce comes on and Connor pulls me in close and throws my arms around his neck. We’re still pumping to the music, but within seconds it’s like something out of Dirty Dancing. Oh, if I’d known he could dance like this, we would’ve done nothing else the entire time we were in Spain. Of course, it’s been so long, I forgot
I
knew how to dance like this.

We’re rocking and swaying and everything but grinding. Our bodies are perfectly in sync as we move to the music. My cheeks are flushed and my body warm, and not just from the dancing.

When the song is over, the DJ switches to a slow song. Connor and I break apart, holding each other’s eyes and panting, deciding what to do next. He could pull a Patrick Swayze and just disappear into the crowd.

I look away. I run my hand through my hair and try to calm down my breathing. All around us, couples are swaying and we’re just standing here. I take a few deep breaths, my heart rate finally slowing. I’m still not looking at him.

I’m also not looking at him when he takes my hand and pulls me into his arms. We start swaying too. It’s hesitant, almost mechanical. Hell, it’s so bad I’m having flashbacks to the junior high dances.

Eventually we soften, though, and our bodies meld together more naturally. Our movements are more in tune with the music and one another. The next song begins—“Open Arms” by Journey—and we don’t stop. We aren’t just moving our bodies to the music, our hands are moving too. Mine over his chest, his down my back. I lift my arm to drape it over his neck and he runs his hand from my elbow clear down to my waist. Our heads move closer together.

Lips parted, panting slightly, my mouth is next to his jaw and his hot breath is underneath my ear. His arm tightens around my back, he moves his hips to the music and guides my body to move along with him, knees bending, bodies dipping. We wrap in even closer.

As we dance and move, his head comes around from one side of mine and switches to the other. Our lips pass by within inches of each other. Still not looking at his eyes, I run my hand up into his slightly-damp hair. His arms tighten around me and still we’re dancing.

His mouth is near my cheek. I turn and brush my lips over his, then keep going like I didn’t mean to do it. Like it wasn’t the stolen kiss that it was.

He snakes one hand into my hair and grips it gently as our mouths come close together. I glance up at him, see the heat in his eyes, and realize I’m luring him in deliberately now. Maybe I have been all along. Because every move of my body is drawing him closer... just like every move of his body is drawing me closer to him.

“Sorry,” I whisper, pulling my mouth away slightly, because I should respect the fact that he doesn’t want to go there. But we don’t stop dancing. A moment later, my resolve weakens because he’s the one who steals a kiss, brushing his lips on mine and then away.

Two more beats. Two more beats of our bodies blending together, then we press our mouths against one another and linger.

We pull away. Take a breath. Resist for another beat.

Then his mouth is on mine and I feel myself start to tip. I pull away slightly, glance up at him, then tuck my chin down.

“Connor,” I breathe. “If we’re going to stop...”

“I don’t care anymore,” he says thickly, putting his finger under my chin and tilting me up to meet him. “I’m already flying.”

Then Connor Rivers kisses me like he means it. I’m done holding back too. I wrap my arms tighter around him and we open to each other. His tongue touches mine and I’m rising up to meet him. We kiss deeply, intently, eagerly. I give in to all of it.

It might be a mistake, but I don’t care.

Some mistakes are worth making.

Whitney

We dance for another half hour, settling into each other and—I think—making sure no one’s going to pull away this time. Neither one of us do. At last he asks if I want to go back to his place, and of course the answer is yes.

As we pull up to his house—a luxurious-looking, modestly-sized home with two levels, balconies, and a nicely-landscaped front yard—I’m as fascinated as I was when I saw Connor in a suit. Or realized how many employees he manages. I glance over at his handsome profile as he pulls into the garage. The Connor I know has a walking stick named Gandolf and lives on a boat. He’s not nailed to the ground living in an actual house.

Maybe he can be more steady than I think. Maybe, when he makes his decision, staying at the resort
will
win out.

I’m not going to worry about it though. Right now, it’s me and Connor and that’s everything I need.

He takes my hand as he leads me through the mudroom, laundry room, and into the kitchen. It’s a clean, open space with professional-grade stove and appliances. He leads me to the other side of the bar and just into the living room. The dining area is to our left, one side surrounded by a bay of windows. The living room is all hard wood flooring, and decorated in a plush, classic style, with richly-patterned furniture, an abundance of gorgeous throw pillows, and beautiful vases and flowers. It doesn’t at all seem his style. There’s more to it—an office down the way, I think—but we stop not far from the staircase, which curves up gracefully to our right.

He snakes one arm around my waist and pulls me snug against him. “I’ll give you the tour,” he says, but we don’t move. “Kitchen, dining room, living room.” He gestures with his free arm, then brings that one around me too. I wrap my arms around his waist and look up at him, smiling. “Office and game room down the hall,” he says, looking into my eyes and smiling too.

“Uh-huh,” I say.

He leans down and gives me a kiss. I press my lips against his, sinking into it. He breaks our kiss just for a moment, brings his hands to my cheeks, and kisses me again. We taste one another slowly, our temperatures rising.

“Bedrooms upstairs,” he says, his lips still brushing mine.

“I want to see those.”

He kisses me again. As our kiss deepens, I feel the power of it swooping up into my chest. Our hands and bodies move to the rhythm of our own song now. It’s slow and intense and increasingly molten. He’s rock hard against my thigh. I’m ready for him too. We break our kiss and kick off our shoes before he leads me up the stairs.

He takes me through the double doors leading to the master bedroom, and turns the lights on the elegant fixture above the king-sized bed in the center. The bed’s on an impressive frame, with an intricate, curving headboard. Again, not the style I would’ve imagined for him, but it’s a bed, so I don’t really care.

He turns the dial down, dimming the lights, then turns his attention back to me. My attention has turned to the buttons on his shirt. He undoes his cuffs as I loosen each button, one at a time.

Once the shirt is hanging open, I bring my hands to his firm chest, and rub them up and over his shoulders, bringing the shirt fabric over his shoulders too. He slowly shimmies his arms, his chest muscles flexing, and his shirt falls to the floor. He cups my face and kisses me again, releasing me once I start to fumble with his belt buckle.

He reaches for my dress at the waist, pulling up the fabric of my skirt. I raise my arms as he lifts my dress up and over and drops it onto the floor. I shake my hair off my shoulders then return to his belt buckle, pulling it loose.

As I work to undo his pants, he caresses my neck and shoulders and arms. Then he reaches behind me and unclasps my bra, sliding it down my arms and off. Eyes on one another, we finish up on our own. He removes his pants and I slide down my panties, which are wet at the crotch.

My breath catches in my throat at the sight of his hard cock. Oh, this I remember. My core starts that pleasurable aching as I remember the feel of him inside me, and anticipate him entering me again.

“Oh,” I say, suddenly remembering something. “Please god, say you have a condom.”

He grins and hooks his hand on the back of my neck, bringing me in to him. “I have a condom,” he whispers, then kisses me deeply, his warm tongue warring eagerly with mine. We break briefly as he backs up toward the bed, bringing me with him. I’m breathing hard.

“More than one?”

He laughs and grabs me suddenly. I squeal as he turns and tosses me on the bed. “You’re insatiable.”

I grin. “Come here.”

He slowly crawls onto the bed, like a panther, smiling, his eyes hungry. “I want to taste you first.”

“Taste me later. I want you.” I sit up slightly to reach for his shoulders. I tug on him, indicating I want him to come all the way up to me. I want him to mount me. I want him inside me.

He does come up—quickly—but he grabs my wrists and pins them above my head.

“Behave, you,” he says hotly, and my body tingles. I hold my breath. “I want to taste every inch of you,” he says, still holding my wrists and dipping his mouth to my ear. He sucks on my earlobe and I exhale slowly. “I want to run my tongue all over your body.” He lightly traces his tongue down to the crook of my neck.

He sucks on the sensitive skin, and slowly rubs both hands down the underside of my arms. I start to lower them, but he presses them back in place, indicating I’m not to move. I bring my thighs up the sides of his body, angling my hips to feel him but he’s holding himself too far above me.

“I want to lick you until you come, lap up all your juices, then lick you till you come again.” I exhale sharply, shivering with anticipation. He grins at my reaction. Holding my eyes, he runs his fingers over my collar bone, then down the front of my breast. He stops just short of my nipple, teasing me.

“And then?” I whisper, wanting him to cup me.

“And then what?” he asks, still holding my eyes. He gently rolls my nipple between his fingers, then takes my breast in his hand and squeezes firmly.

I close my eyes briefly and let out a soft moan. “Then what will you do?” I whisper.

“You mean,” he says slowly, lowering his head toward my chest, “will I pound you with my cock until your eyes roll back in your head?” He takes my nipple into his hot mouth and sucks firmly.

“Mm-hmmm,” I say, nodding my head slowly, eyes closed, arms still above my head.

“You’ll have to wait to find out.” He goes to my other breast, slowly circles the nipple with his tongue, then sucks on that one too.

“Yes,” I breathe, squirming underneath him.

“Stay there like a good girl,” he says, planting kisses down my stomach and running his hands down my sides.

I nod obediently, my nipples aching from missing him already. My legs are spread and I’m throbbing, anticipating his touch. He kisses the top of my pubic bone. Then just above my seam. He opens his mouth and places the flat of his wet tongue in the same place, teasing me. My clit throbs. I firmly clasp my hands together above my head, my breath shallowing. I look down, watching him, willing him to move lower.

He scoots himself down a bit at a time, kissing and tasting the inside of my upper thighs as he goes, sending ripples of trembling gooseflesh all over me. Finally, he grabs my hips with both hands, holding me in place and positioning his mouth right above my sweet spot.

He exhales slowly. “Oh yeah,” he says softly, taking me in appreciatively. I’ve never had a guy make me feel so beautiful
down there.
But the way he looks at me, like
he’s
the one in for a treat, makes me feel safe and hot and completely under his control.

His tongue touches me just at my entrance and he takes a long, soft swipe up toward my clit, tasting me slowly. Like he’s the puppet master with the string, I arch back long and slow to match his movement. His wet tongue slides over my firm bud and I exhale a shuddering breath. Then he lowers his tongue and does it again. “God,” I say, unable to keep from grabbing the back of his head and angling toward him.

He gently sucks my clit into his mouth and teases the tip of it with his tongue. My body contracts with the shudder he just sent through me. “Fuck,” I say, eloquently.

He rubs his hands up the back of my thighs and presses firmly just beneath the back of my knees, spreading me farther apart. He’s rubbing the flat of his tongue all over my clit: up and down, side to side. I groan when he goes side to side and he responds by doing it again.

“Yes, yes,” I say, breathing hard and curling toward him. The pleasure in my clit starts to spread and climb hard. His tongue starts to work me faster, and harder. He maintains the rhythm, but pushes harder yet. I’m gasping helplessly, spreading wide. My toes point and he’s sending me closer and closer to the top. His hands release my legs and he reaches up, caressing and squeezing my breasts, all while flicking my clit with his tongue exactly how I need it.

Oh my god.

He pushes his entire mouth hard against me, pleasing me everywhere, and I’m getting harder and more engorged against his hot tongue. I’m whimpering, so close. God, I’m so close. He swirls his tongue and pinches my nipples firmly and I come hard, crying out. He doesn’t slow or ease up, sending pleasure spiking over my entire body as I pulse against him. I’m thrashing helplessly, and he grabs my thighs eagerly, pulling me harder to him and eating me out with so much eagerness, I’d think he was the one coming.

My climax goes on and on. I’m nearly out of my mind with it. It comes down in intense waves, and I can barely breathe. Finally it recedes enough that I can take in deep breaths and he eases off me slowly.

“God,” I say. I’m so damned articulate.

“Mmm-hmmm,” he says back, taking another soft lick up me and making me shudder. He’s a poet too. I love it.

I expect him to come up to me now, and want him to, but he doesn’t look done with me. Not at all. I remember what he said and look down at him, disbelieving. Is he
really
going to lick me off twice? Is that even possible?

Minutes later, I have my answer. He starts slow, initially avoiding my clit, which is too sensitive to want direct contact at first. Instead he slowly caresses my folds with his tongue and gently massages my thighs and stomach and ass and breasts. It’s like stoking a fire. Slowly. Patiently. Soon I’m eager again. Wanting more.

He touches my clit softly at first. Momentarily. It’s enough to throw my head back and make my legs open up more. Then he does it again. The heat spikes in my body, rising at his commands. It’s like he’s cast a delicious spell over my body, and I’m so enchanted by what he’s doing that words escape me.

He works my clit a little more, then a little more, until I’m moaning and rocking my hips. I start to climb hard, and grip his forearms, hanging on. He grasps my forearms too, and that’s how we hold on to each other as he pulls another heart-pumping orgasm out of me.

I’m making the kind of sounds that would make a porn star blush, but I can’t help it. It feels so fucking good.

When it’s over and I’m panting heavily, he pulls up on his elbows and smiles at me. “How you doing up there?” he asks, amused.

“Uuhhhh.” I’m just trying to breathe. 

“You still want more?”

I grin.

He chuckles and places a firm kiss on my inner thigh. I’m still trembling all over, just beneath the surface.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, backing up and getting off the bed. I catch sight of his cock, still raging hard, and maybe I am insatiable because I’m tingling pleasantly at the thought of it inside me.

He disappears into the bathroom. I take a deep breath, blowing it out hard and resting my hands on my stomach. Good lord, this man.

He comes back with the condom already on and climbs on top of my weakened—but ready—body. Oh this is what I wanted. Not that I would’ve given up the other, but it feels so good to have Connor on top of me. To have him in my arms. To be able to kiss him. As we kiss, deeper and more intently, he runs his hand up the back of my neck and into my scalp. He makes a fist, grabbing a handful of my hair and tugging firmly. Our mouths are locked in a hot kiss. He tugs again, harder this time, and I moan with pleasure, tasting him eagerly.

Still clutching my hair, he reaches down and takes hold of himself, searching.
Yes. At last.
I feel his fleshy tip and I scoot just enough so that between the two of us, we’re lined up. His wide shaft presses against my entrance. I relax my muscles, letting him in. He slides in so slowly, I feel every inch rubbing against my ridges, deliciously sensitive after my orgasms.

He reaches bottom, and pauses. I’m stretched around him. He’s so big, the pleasure of being this full is touching the boundaries of pain.

“You feel so good inside me,” I breathe. “I don’t want it to end.” God, I don’t want any of this to end.

He cups my jaw and slowly withdraws, one inch at a time, my channel humming with his touch. He rests his forehead and against mine and holds my eye. My chest flushes hot and it spreads over me like warm honey.

“You’re incredible,” he says, coming deep inside me again, slightly faster. He’s still holding my eyes. My heart skips a beat and my mouth drops slightly open when he hits bottom again. “So tight and wet,” he says. His words send a pulse of pleasure through me and I tighten around his cock even more. His eyes pinch shut, and I catch a glimpse of the ecstasy on his face before he dips down and sucks on the crook of my neck. At the same time he increases his rhythm more.