Staking Her Claim...: Book 1 in the Patricks' Brothers series (22 page)

I couldn’t help making my way over to, Rob and Jeb when I heard the rich, throaty sound of Rob’s laughter. Seeing him more relaxed talking to Jeb than he’d been in a long time reinforced how much I wanted to be able to see his smile, the dimples in his cheeks, and the lines that fanned out from his dark blue eyes when he was happy every day.

My decision still wasn’t clear when I’d finished getting dressed and got in the limo. It hadn’t been any clearer when I watched him attempt to fade into his surroundings either.

What had woken me up to the realization I could lose him if I didn’t make my choice soon was watching women by the dozen approach him, smiling coyly, touching him, discreetly offering him God knows what as they whispered in his ear. It might sound ridiculous, but the jealousy that washed over me like a tidal wave as those insipid, insufferable, socialites pawed all over him was the wake-up call I’d needed.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m not choosing him because I don’t want anyone else to have him. No, that’s not it at all. I’m choosing him because I want to have the
right
to tell women like them he’s mine. I want to be able to hold his hand, wrap my arms around him, and kiss him whenever I feel the need to. I want to proudly scream from the roof-tops that I’m with the only man who has ever simultaneously made me want to tell him all my secrets, quiver with desire, ache with longing, and punch him.

That might sound strange, but it’s a potent mixture. One that keeps things interesting. Exciting. Fresh. It’s thrilling, exhilarating and frustrating all at once. They are feelings I know will have me desperate to wake up each morning just to see what today will bring.

I know you’re probably thinking, why the sudden change of heart? But think about it. Was it actually sudden? And you damn well know it wasn’t a change of heart because that’s always been his to have when he was ready to reach out and take it. I offered it to him on a silver platter, gift wrapped for his convenience years ago, and I hadn’t rescinded the offer. I suppose what I’m really trying to say is; we were inevitable. You could say, my indecision was merely a pause on the journey that would eventually lead to an, us.

Slinking through the crowd, hoping no one tries to stop me to discuss another business venture I could care less about, I finally reach the entry hall and wait for Rob to catch up. He wasn’t far behind me of that I was certain. I’d caught the sound of his deep voice saying goodbye to, Jeb, the cadence of it rasping through the air making me shiver in anticipation.

This might not be the ideal place to let him know I wanted to try, to give us the shot we were entitled to, but there’s no time like the present my Mom often says. Not to mention, I didn’t want to give myself the opportunity to back out now that I had decided.

Reconsidering wasn’t the issue, the timing was. We had wasted enough of that; time. I didn’t want to overthink us, him, how we would work. I didn’t think he needed more time to come to terms with starting something more with me either. No. This was our time, and we’d take it. Now. This every second.

The grand entry hall of the Marriot, Downtown Dallas, is regal and ostentatious. Huge crystal chandeliers hang at precisely measured intervals, stretching its length, casting a muted glow over the dark, plum-colored carpet below.

Ornate, hand-carved pieces of furniture; consoles purely for decorative purposes, and small, square coffee tables only large enough to hold two glasses and a woman’s clutch are functional but not currently in use. These are joined by well-appointed, high back wing chairs, and a short, padded bench I’m not sure has ever been sat on.

Currently, the corridor is empty. As the banquet has a separate entry this hallway’s only purpose is to serve as a connection between the hotel proper, and multi-room function complex. Because tonight’s event is slated to end at midnight, guests won’t have any need to seek overnight accommodation, which works for me. I want somewhere quiet to talk to Rob.

Walking further away from the noise of the party, I move into the semi-secluded recess, created by the space left unused between a bathroom and a retired coat room. Exhaling heavily as I rest my back against the cool, paneled timber wall, I try to take some of the mounting pressure off the balls of my feet. I knew these shoes would end up punishing my feet, I just didn’t realize it would happen so quickly. Oh, well, beauty has its price and all that good stuff, I muse.

Rob slips into the space beside me, but he doesn’t mirror my position, he rests one broad shoulder on the wall, choosing to face me instead. I can feel his eyes drilling a hole into the side of my head. So much so, it causes an unusual frisson of unease to skitter down my spine.

Trying to keep myself composed under his scrutiny is proving harder than I expect, but after a few seconds, I manage it. If only just.

“I’m glad you wanted to take a walk with me, Rob, because I need to talk to you.”

“What about, Sweetness,” he asks trailing one calloused finger up the back of my arm.

“About what happened the other day, among other things,” I answer, self-conscious by my body’s apparent reaction to him. I’m positive he can see my pulse racing, my skin flushing, and smell my desire pooling in the skimpy scrap of lace between my legs I've never
i
had such a visceral reaction to a man before. Let alone a guy who hasn’t touched me with anything but the tip of his finger along the bare skin of my bicep.

“I think you’re wrong, Aly. I don’t think we need to talk about that at all. It happened, it was fucking phenomenal, and it’s going to happen again. Inside of the next minute or so by my estimation.” He sounds so sure of himself. So resolute.

As if to prove his point, Rob hooks one hand behind my neck, curling my much smaller body in his large, powerful one as he attacks my mouth with his. This kiss is a re-creation of the second one we shared two days ago. It’s hard. It’s brutal. It’s beautiful. Our breath mingles and I can taste the expensive, top-shelf scotch on his tongue. The moment he feels my resistance waver; Rob goes on the attack. He’s no longer testing the waters or the restrictions we’ve both lived hidden behind.

Running the tip of his tongue along my neck, Rob nips at the sensitive flesh at the base of my throat, soothing it with wet, open-mouth kisses. I have no doubt Rob is as aroused as I am. The evidence of his attraction to me is laying heavy, thick, and throbbing against my hip while he swivels his hips, seeking to ease some of the pressure from his snug fitting, tuxedo pants.

Rob in a tux is a sight to behold. You can tell it isn’t a rental or off-the-shelf purchase. It fits him too well, the cut of it is perfectly tailored to his imposing frame. What I would prefer is to see him out of it, but seeing as that’s not an option right now, I loosen his bow-tie, and slip the first four buttons free of their holes. I want to touch his skin, feel it heat beneath my finger, scrape my nails through the light smattering of hair on his chest. 

Rob’s hands begin to wander the length of my back, caressing the indents of my spine, memorizing the curve of it. I can feel the heat of his palm searing my tender flesh through the fabric of my dress. Pulling me tightly to him, Rob asks,

“Are you sure you want this, Sweetness? You need to be sure, Aly because I’m about half a second from losing control and taking you against the wall.”

Am I ready? Do I want him to fuck me here? Now? The answer is an emphatic, yes. There’s nothing I want more at this moment than, him. I don’t want promises of tomorrow, of a future, or to talk anymore. All I want is Rob to take me the way he said he would. And to show him I agree wholeheartedly with his plan, I thread my fingers through his hair and fuse our mouths together, giving him everything I have to give.

Rob gets the message. Boy does he get the message. His hands, lips, teeth and tongue become frantic. Material parts, sliding between us like a curtain of tulle and wool blend, separating the parts of our bodies that are begging for each other’s touch.

There’s nothing slow about his exploration of inner thighs as he gathers my dress, shoving it up around my hips. Hooking his thumbs in the sides of my lace thong, Rob slips them down my legs, using the toe of his dress shoe to pool them at my feet.

With ease born of hours of working out, Rob grips the back of my legs, urging me to hitch them around his waist. Feeling him working between us, I take the opportunity to let my mouth discover the too small patch of skin I exposed when I was trying to rid him of his shirt. I nibble, use my teeth to graze the hot, sweat slickened surface, and inhale his amazing cologne. Underlying his after-shave is another scent. A scent that’s uniquely Rob. Complex, rich, and highly intoxicating.

His cock free now, lying pulsing on the soft skin of my belly, I grasp it firmly in my fist and begin to stroke. I’ve seen the outline of his erection before, so I’m not surprised when I can’t force my fingers to meet as I circle him, moving my hand rhythmically up and down.

Rob is huge. His thick shaft is heavily veined, perfectly straight, and nearly reaches past the indent of his belly button. The broad, mushroom head is an angry red, almost purple in color at his desperation with pre-come leaking steadily from the tip.

If I had more time, I’d drop to my knees and take him in my mouth. I’ve dreamed about sucking Rob’s cock for so long that at the thought of it, my mouth begins to salivate and a whimper to escape. Not missing a stroke, I tighten my grasp, adding a twist to my wrist as I meet the base of his cock where it meets the neatly trimmed patch of hair around my prize.

“Jesus, fuck,” he growls. “Stroke me harder, Sweetness, but don’t make me come. The first time I come is going to be inside that sweet, tight, hot pussy of yours.” His hips rock in time with the fluid motion of my hand, my thighs clenching around his waist unconsciously.

My pussy feels neglected as it’s left bare and dripping. Grinding, rubbing, rotating my pelvis roughly against his, I try to stimulate my clit to get some much-needed relief from the intense ache between my legs.

I’ve never felt so anxious to skip the foreplay and go straight to the main-event. However, with Rob fucking my fist, my pussy weeping for his attention, and my nipples painfully scraping across the lace of my bra, I’m about ready to demand he fuck me hard and fast.

Seeming to understand the level of my desperation, Rob rips his cock from my hand, lines the broad crown of it up with my opening, and sinks inside until he’s buried deep. His thrusts start off slow, almost lazy as he builds the tension, heightens the anticipation of what I know will be the sweetest release.

Plunging in and pulling back out, Rob pistons his cock into my pussy with purpose.

“Fuck you’re tight, Sweetness.”

He doesn’t ask me if he’s hurting me, and I’m glad. I don’t think I have the words to reassure him that this is the most amazing thing I’ve ever felt before. It’s so much more than the mere physical act of two bodies joining in a tangle of limbs, in the heat of passion, though. Everything with Rob is more. Better. More meaningful. Regardless that what we’re doing is the definition of fucking, I don’t believe Rob is capable of that with me. He might have been with other women, but with me, no matter how frantic, how dirty, how fast it is he’s making love to me.

Rob’s body, his head, the thick length of his cock, and the way he plunders my mouth speaks volumes. There’s nothing easy or laid-back about our connection as he increases the pace of his thrusts in time with my moans and cries of ecstasy. It doesn’t take long for the last fragile thread of his control to snap.

Pounding into me, I feel my pussy spasm, and wetness leak from my core with abandon. I know I’m close, but I want this to last. I want him inside me for as long as he can be. Biting down on his neck, I lave the poor abused skin with my tongue, circling to across his flesh lightly, causing goosebumps to appear in its wake.

“Harder, Rob. I need you to fuck me harder,” I manage to say on a strangled moan.

Ever courteous, Rob quickens his strokes. They’re almost furious, staccato, single-minded in their focus now. That focus being to bring us to the brink of pleasure, sending us over the edge spiraling head-first into ‘la petite mort.’ Unrestrained hunger surges through my veins as Rob finds my hot button. Circling my clit with the thumb of his free hand, adding just enough pressure, has me attacking his mouth with a vengeance.

As I make love to his sensual mouth, Rob wraps his arm, the one that was resting beside my head, around my waist ramming his pelvis against mine. Every time he thrusts, my thighs spread wider to accommodate the width of his lower torso. I watch his abs clench with exertion, the V of his hips which stands out in startling contrast seems to deepen each time he retreats from my body. We lose ourselves in each other. Time stands still. No one else exists. It’s just Rob and me.