Authors: Riley Murphy
Use the index finger on your left hand and pet yourself. Everywhere. Stroke and rub, but no contact with your clit, you understand?
Does it feel good? Are you flexing into your hand? Are you wet?
Yes. Yes. Oh yes.
Stop touching and spread yourself wider. I want you to feel the cool air. I want you to imagine me between your legs. Examining you. Studying all the secrets of your drenched pink flesh. I’m there. You’re so wet. Those soft folds are glistening. Trembling in anticipation of my touch. I can’t wait to sink my fingers up inside you. So hot
—When he’d said it he’d practically purred and it had been that sound that had pushed her over the edge—damn, it almost did again.
Her inner muscles contracted heavily with need as the ache of building desire spread right through her. Becoming almost unbearable when she heard him moving around in his room. Any minute he’d come through that door and see her. Naked and exposed. Waiting for him. Hot for him. Ready to do anything he asked her to do because she was committed to proving him wrong. She wasn’t a wanderer. She didn’t plagiarize other people’s stories.
I want to help you live an epic life.
Was it possible? God, what if it were? What if…if… What if her committing herself proved something different? What if it showed him that her real place in life was on the ‘do not finish’ shelf?
After what you did, you don’t deserve an epic life.
“Fuck,” she quietly swore. He’d gotten into her head—a shot of pheromone-driven adrenaline zapped through her—and, she mentally added, under her skin too. She’d have to pay attention, she would, but right now she needed him to give her some relief. Imagining several different ways he could do that for her when he came into the room. She felt his presence fill the space. Crowding it, but she also smelled his cologne. It was crisp and clean. Like fresh linen. Why hadn’t she noticed it earlier? What was he doing? She wanted so badly to lift her head or better yet, ask him but she knew she couldn’t do either of those things without ‘breaking the rules’.
The pounding of her heartbeat sounded so loudly in her ears that she worried when and if he did speak, she wouldn’t hear him. With all the silence she wasn’t sure what she could hear. And as one minute then two ticked by, a nervous excitement took hold. Tingly chills raced over her skin until she imagined she could feel every pore, every goose bump and every tiny pinprick of sensation no matter how small. The insignificant became all important. Why didn’t he touch her? Why didn’t he speak? Why—?
He entered her line of vision, standing over her and all her thoughts scattered. He had no shirt on and seeing his muscles—the basket weave pattern knitted on his abdomen and the rope-like bulge of biceps and shoulders—made her suck in a breath. She’d always known he was in great shape. She’d felt the hardness of him through his suits, but this? This was something different altogether. Great shape didn’t begin to describe what he was. Superb was more like it.
When she tore her gaze from his torso and met the wicked heat of his eyes the breath she’d sucked in earlier escaped her lungs in a rush. This wasn’t the David she’d been flirting with over a candlelit dinner table. This David was a seasoned heartbreaker who commanded attention with one look.
“Open your fists. That’s right, you close nothing from me.”
He leaned forward and drew the back of his hand from her collarbone, over her right breast, rib cage, stomach until he got to her hip. “Spread your legs for me.”
When she did, he tilted his head to get a good look at her. She was sure she was blushing, mortified as she was, but she didn’t complain. She couldn’t. He held her captive with only his palm against her hip. Oddly the weight was like a mental shackle she wanted him to tighten until she had no choice. No say. Until she was completely at his mercy.
“Breathe slow and deeply. That’s right. No, don’t close your eyes. Good.” Without warning his other hand cupped her pussy. Not in a soft or casual manner either, but in an aggressive clutch that left no doubt in her mind that he was staking claim. “I like that you don’t shave down here.” He pinched his knuckles together, catching up some silky hair before he tugged. “I only want one thing from you during our time together. That’s not too much to ask. Is it?”
No, and she knew what it was. He was looking for her loyalty, she was sure of it given the Joe thing. “No it’s not,” she whispered.
“I’m glad you agree.”
His eyes. God, his eyes were heating her up. Cooling her down. Stripping her to the soul until she had to do something. Say something. “Wh-what’s the one thing you want from me?”
He didn’t blink and the weight of his stare held her hostage. “Everything.”
David didn’t even give her a chance to process that pronouncement when he knelt down, curling over her, lying on top of her as he pressed her into the mattress. He let go of her hip and brought that arm up to snake around her, tightly clasping her to him while he positioned himself.
She was hot and wet, like he knew she’d be, so there was no need for preparation. At least not in the physical sense. Once he had her caged between the bed and his body, he spoke against her ear, “Spread your legs wider for me. That’s right. In a minute I’m going to slide one finger inside you. Only one, but it will be enough to make you beg and promise me the world if I asked you for it.”
“You have to be patient. Stop flexing. Breathe. That’s right.” He slid his free hand down, waiting before he drew one finger from the top of her slit to the bottom and added, “Patience.”
When she stilled and did exactly as he’d asked, he slowly drew his finger down her again, only this time he pressed harder until her folds parted and he connected with slick, velvet flesh. Over and over, he went up and down, pressing and then easing, circling and brushing. Steady. So steady as she quaked and trembled against him. He was relentless while she sighed, panted and moaned.
God she was drenched, but he kept up the pace until his own limits were stretched to the max. This was all about her, so he fought off his need and went after hers.
“Relax and breathe. Don’t forget to breathe,” he whispered, before he slid his middle finger all the way into her and found the spot.
She gave a little jerk and gasped.
“Easy, that’s right. Very good.” He braced himself for her reaction as he moved in a clockwise motion. Massaging the hyper-sensitive tissue until he felt it harden. When it did he changed his motion. Pressing his fingertip against one erect side, he jiggled. Hard.
That cry inspired him to jiggle that much harder as she screamed and came and screamed and came some more. But these little orgasms didn’t interest him. They were merely the stepping stones to the one that did.
He didn’t let up on her. He was patient and stalwart in his pursuit until he gauged how completely her body language changed. How acutely her breathing pattern dropped into lower register tones. Muscles trembling. Teeth chattering. Oh yeah, he’d pushed her to the edge and now it was time he took her over it.
With one stroke of his finger he landed right on the spot and smudged. Crushing the delicate tissue and forcing all those nerve endings inside her to crackle and spark to life.
“Fall for me, angel. I’m here ready to catch you. Fall for me.”
This time when she screamed it was the raw and primal sound he wanted from her. A guttural groan of satisfaction so deep it came from her soul. Hearing that, he was satisfied and ended this sensual torture as gently as he started it, when he eased out of her. Only he wasn’t prepared for what came next. He’d intended to lift her up. Tuck her in. Tell her how well she’d pleased him, when she threw her arms around his neck and squeezed him tight.
It was more than a hug.
He didn’t move. He stayed right there and let her draw some strength from him. This wasn’t about sex. It wasn’t about power either. Right now if he weren’t mistaken, it was about trust. She’d given it and he’d taken it, without abusing the privilege. Jesus, how many times had she been let down before? Judging by the way she was clinging to him at the moment? He’d put money on a lot.
He didn’t know how long it took before she finally fell asleep, but when she did he was careful moving her up in the bed. After he tucked the covers around her, he straightened. Lacy Pembrook was definitely a puzzle and the more time he spent with her, the more he wanted to solve the mystery of her.
He turned to shut off the light and caught sight of the paddle. Was that—? He squinted and bent to get a closer look. Why yes it was. One of Lacy’s infamous smiley faces. She’d drawn it on the lower right hand corner. Complete with quirky eyebrows. He couldn’t help grinning when he read the short sentence below it.
For happy times.
She was a puzzle all right. Thoughtful and mature when it came to all aspects of her life except for one. Relationships. He’d watched her pull the clueless, cute and sarcastic card on him more times than he could count, and it hadn’t really bothered him. Not like is should have. If he weren’t mistaken it actually worked to keep him invested. There was a reason she behaved this way, but more importantly there was a reason he was attracted to this kind of behavior. Maybe he’d been taking life too seriously for too long now.
He reached to turn off the light when something occurred to him. Picking up the paddle he turned it over and nearly laughed out loud. There in the bottom corner was another drawing. Only this one was a sad face complete with one lone tear drop. And the short sentence below it?
For those times when I’m “not completely delighted.”
He shook his head. Guts. She had them. It was a good thing too, because they’d stand her in good stead over the next two weeks.
By the time David got into his own bed he was feeling better than he had in years until the old anxieties surfaced and he spent the better part of an hour trying to keep the skeletons at bay. He’d known they’d start to rattle the minute he’d brought Lacy into his home. Memories didn’t like competition. Neither did reality so the past was going to have to stay there.
Lacy wasn’t Elaina. She may need him as much as Elaina had, but Lacy was different. He was different. This time everything was going be different.
Eventually he fell asleep, only slumber didn’t last long when he sat up covered in a cold sweat. He’d had a bad dream. The same old bad dream about…Elaina.
Raking a hand through his hair he tried to shake it off. He hadn’t had this dream in years. He tried to tell himself it was probably her annual letter that triggered it, but then that had come over three months ago, so he had to face the truth.
Bringing Lacy here had pushed the skeletons out of the closet it would seem.
Lying back he clasped his hands behind his head and stared into the darkness. Lacy wasn’t Elaina. Lacy broke rules and challenged him. She sent smiley faces and hid behind a wall of bratty cuteness that sometimes made him smile. Elaina would never have done those things. There was nothing similar about the two.
Except when it came to the matter of trust.
Lacy woke up and had to think for a moment about where she was. When it came to her, she sat up, brushed the sleep from her eyes and had a look around. The room seemed different in the soft morning light, but she lost all interest in those differences when she spied the Post-t Note stuck to the headboard. Snatching it off, she read what David had written.
Once you’re up and ready for the day (wear something comfortable) follow the yellow and come find me. I have breakfast waiting and we can talk about plans for the day.
She scooted to the edge of the bed and kicked aside the covers.
She was sure her ideas on that and his were different. Hers included clothes and his probably not, but at least he’d left the choice up to her. That was one thing and by the time she’d washed and brushed her teeth she’d decided on her choice. She was going with her favorite Levis, her Dali t-shirt and a pair of sneakers. She was in the process of lacing up the latter when thoughts of the night before broke through the rather large mental block she’d erected in an attempt to hold them off. After spying the large D and H hickey tattoos he’d made over each hip and the smaller initials on her inner thighs, she’d been crazy to think she could just forget about what happened on that stool.
What about after that?
“Damn it.” She finished the last shoestring bow with a harder than intended tug and stood to make the bed. With each flick of the sheet, flashes of what he’d done to her against those linens, burst in her mind. The intensity. The bone melting feeling of being overwhelmed by nonstop pleasure was like nothing she’d ever experienced before.
Stopping, she stared at the perfectly executed hospital corner she’d made and frowned. There was a moment last night, hell, maybe more than one that she’d thought she’d pass out. She couldn’t catch her breath or keep a handle on her tumbling emotions and yet? She’d chased the uncertainty of those moments until they crashed around her with an earth shattering calm. He’d given that to her. It was no wonder she’d latched onto him in fear of letting go. He’d created a wild tempest and then became the steady rock she needed to cling to so she didn’t drown.
You’re used to drowning.
How had David known?
“Smart and sexy,” she whispered as she made one last swiping pass across the duvet. Satisfied when she noted there was not a wrinkle to be found, she turned and left her room.
Following the yellow sticky papers turned out to be fun as David had taken the time to write clues on each one.
Hot, hot, hotter
and when she got down to the bottom of the stairs and went to the closed high double doors to retrieve the square note on there she smiled, because the note said,
Boo, cold. Hint turn around
. When she did, she spied the line of yellow paper stuck to the wall beside the staircase. The paper path disappeared through an archway that led to a large hallway beyond.