Who's Your Daddy? (29 page)

My other hand hovered beside me, opening and closing, searching for something to cling to. With no conscious bidding on my part, it found his hair and held on. The steady movement beneath my hand was an echo of the more intense movement of his mouth on my cock, and it turned me on that much more.

His tongue circled the head of my cock, and I gasped, the room spinning as I took my first breath in God only knew how long. My fingers twitched in his hair, and when I looked down at him, watching him slowly,
slowly
suck my cock, his eyes flicked up and met mine, and I was gone.

My knees buckled, and my voice—cursing, saying his name, cursing again—echoed off the walls of…whatever room we were in. Wherever the hell we were. Didn’t care, because he didn’t stop, and the more he sucked my cock, the more I came and the more my vision blurred and the less I could stay on my feet.

“Oh my God,” I moaned. “Jesus, Isaac…” As he stood, I leaned against the wall for balance, silently begging my knees to stay under me.

Without a word, he cradled my neck in both hands and kissed me. My head was already spinning from that orgasm, but his incredible kiss made the world shift beneath me. Though he was breathless, almost feverish with arousal, his kiss was still gentle. Even this kiss that tasted of my own semen was sensual and tender.

His cock pressed against my hip, and I pulled him closer. How many times we’d made love over the years, it was impossible to count, but tonight I wanted him just like it was the first time. The more he moaned, the more his body responded to my touch, the more I wanted him deep inside me.

I reached between us.

“Fuck,” he whispered, touching his forehead to mine and exhaling as I stroked him slowly.

“Like that?”

“Of course I do.” He bit his lip. “Your hands are on me. What’s not to—
fuck
, Donovan…”

I buried my face against his neck, inhaling as much of his scent as the shower had left for me. With every kiss and stroke, I wanted him to know. I wanted him to know without a doubt he was the only man for me. I loved him so much it hurt, and I wanted him to know that even when I couldn’t say it.

“Let me fuck you,” he said. “God damn it, I want you so bad.”

I shivered. “Why don’t we go back in the bedroom, then?” I raised my head and let my lips graze his. “So we have more room to move.”

A growl emerged from the back of his throat, and he kissed me.

Somehow, we turned off the water and found the presence of mind to make a half-assed effort to dry off. My heart pounded harder and my head spun with need for him, and I finally just dropped my towel on the bathroom floor, grabbed his wrist and led him into the bedroom.

We stumbled across the bedroom floor until I bumped into the mattress. Then he shoved me onto the bed, and I dragged him down with me. I wrapped my arms around him, he slid his under my back, and we both held on for dear life.

With him on top of me like this, kissing me desperately and pressing his cock against my hip, I was fucking delirious with lust. Our skin was still just wet enough for his cock to slide back and forth without creating any unpleasant friction, and when he groaned softly, I moved my own hips to counter the motions of his. The groan turned to a helpless sound, and his kiss was so hungry it bordered on violent.

All at once, he stopped. “I
need
to fuck you.”

I shivered. “Please do.”

He kissed me lightly, then pushed himself up and practically lunged for the nightstand.

I started to turn so I could get on my hands and knees, but he stopped me with a hand on my shoulder.

“Not like that,” he whispered. “On your back.”

I relaxed onto the bed again. That wasn’t how he usually liked it, but I wasn’t going to argue with him.

He poured some lube on his hand. As he stroked it onto his cock, he looked at me. “I want to see your face. You know that turns me on.”

“Likewise.”

His hand moved slowly back and forth, smoothing the lube all over his cock, and the strokes mesmerized me. Made my mouth water. Made my hands shake and my heart pound and Jesus, I needed him inside me
now
.

And evidently we were on the same wavelength, because a heartbeat before I would have grabbed him and
demanded
his cock, he moved into position. I parted my legs for him, he guided himself to me, and that first touch of cool lube almost drove me to madness.

“Oh God,” he growled as the head of his cock slid into me. I clawed at the bedsheets, back arching off the bed, losing my mind as he took that first long, deep stroke as slowly as humanly possible. All the way in, buried to the hilt, he paused. Then he withdrew, and the farther he pulled out, the faster my heart pounded with irrational panic that he was going to pull all the way out. And when he started back in, that rapid-fire heartbeat slowed with relief, only to speed up again as he started to slide out.

“Hard, Isaac,” I whispered. “Fuck me hard.”

He met my eyes. “You want it hard?”

“Yes.”

“How hard?”

I licked my lips. “As hard as you can.”

Withdrawing slowly, he held my gaze, probably searching my eyes as if he needed confirmation.

Come on, Isaac. Please, I need this. Please, for the love
—

He slammed his cock all the way inside me. I sucked in a breath, and on his next thrust, he forced that breath right back out of me. Again. Again, even harder this time.

I closed my fingers into tight fists, gathering bedsheets in them, but it wasn’t enough to anchor me here, so I let go of the sheets and reached for the headboard instead. I gripped the slats, and the whole bed shook as Isaac fucked me so hard, every thrust blurred my vision and made my eyes sting with hot tears.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“Yes,” I whispered. “God, Isaac, don’t stop…”

He said something I didn’t understand, and he kept fucking me, driving himself deep inside me until I was sure I couldn’t possibly handle another second of it, and he kept right on going.

Then a shudder rippled through him. His rhythm faltered, and then he threw his head back when a second shudder drove him all the way into me.

“Oh God,” he groaned. “Oh God, I’m gonna come.” Lowering his head, he opened his eyes and met mine. He licked his lips, and his features tightened with exertion, with that
nearly fucking there
tension, and when that tension released, his eyes rolled back and his body shuddered against me. Around me. Inside me.

He shivered one last time, then collapsed over me, panting against my neck. I put my arms around him, holding him close while he caught his breath.

When the dust had settled, we looked at each other in silence. I touched his face.

God, I love you, Isaac
.

He kissed me gently. Then, without a word, we separated and got out of bed to clean up. Once that was taken care of, we slipped under the sheets and kissed lazily.

In the few minutes since we’d made love and now, something had changed. Every kiss was halfhearted. Every touch hesitant. Reluctant. Eye contact was broken as quickly as it was made. Deep down, I was sure he’d caught on, that he knew I was hiding something. That he knew what I was hiding.

I leaned in and kissed him, and at least that gave us a reason to close our eyes. The longer the kiss went on, gentle and tender like I always loved it with him, the hotter the guilt burned in my chest.

I didn’t want to lie to him, even if it meant lying by omission, but even now, I couldn’t find the words. I didn’t know how to explain this without sending him out the door.

We were still here, still touching, but I was scared.

I broke the kiss and pulled back enough to look at him. Trailing my fingers down the side of his face, hoping to God he didn’t hear how badly my voice shook, I whispered, “I love you.”
Please believe me, Isaac. I do, I swear, I do
.

He smiled. “I love you too.”

But how do I explain that I also love her?

Chapter Twenty-One

Isaac

My client—a middle-aged schoolteacher with a quiet demeanor—sat up straight on my couch. She folded her hands above her crossed knees, and she kept her gaze fixed on the floor. She’d been quiet for a full minute, ever since she’d announced she wanted to discuss something specific.

“Ellen?” I said, gently prodding her back into the conversation.

After another long moment of silence, she squared her shoulders and looked at me. “I don’t know how to bring this up to Mark, but…” She took a breath. “What do you think about swinging?”

“Well, I’m not opposed to it on principle,” I said. “But it depends on the reasons for participating in it and how solid the relationship is to begin with.” I put my elbow on the armrest and thumbed my chin. “Why are you interested in getting involved with it?”

Her cheeks colored, and she stared at the floor again. Wringing her hands, she said, “I’m…curious about a few things.”

“Such as?”

“Women.” She bit her lip and cringed. With a great deal of effort, she looked me in the eye. “I never realized it until a few years ago, and I’ve been so embarrassed to talk to Mark about it.”

“But you’d like to bring up swinging so that you can explore this aspect of your sexuality?”

She nodded slowly.

“How do you think he’ll feel about it?”

“Which part?” she asked. “The swinging or…women?”

I shrugged. “Either or.”

“Well….” She took a deep breath. “I don’t think bisexuality bothers him, but I’m worried he’ll think I want to run off with a woman or something.”

“Are you interested in a particular woman?”

“Not really.” She laughed. “Not one I can have, anyway.”

“Meaning?”

“Let’s just say I don’t think Angelina Jolie is going to be knocking down my door any time soon.”

I laughed quietly. “I see your point. So you’re experiencing sexual attraction to a female, and you’re interested in swinging because you’d like the opportunity to explore that attraction in a way that isn’t being unfaithful to your husband, am I correct?”

“Yes, exactly.”

I nodded once and folded my hands on top of the legal pad in my lap. “My suggestion would be to bring up the bi-curiosity first. Leave swinging off the table, and just let him know what you’re feeling. If you’d prefer to do it here, we can wait until you and Mark are both here together, and maybe I can help him understand what you’re dealing with.”

She nodded slowly, focusing on the floor as if processing what I’d said. “So, you think it’s best to hold off on the swinging?”

“Yes. Until you two are on the same page about what you—both of you—expect from the experience, why you want to get involved in it, and where the boundaries are. Which means you need to be honest with him about your sexual curiosity, since it’s a driving force behind your desire to get involved with the lifestyle.”

“Good idea,” she said, and I couldn’t help noticing the note of disappointment in her voice.

“This isn’t something you want to rush,” I said. “The lifestyle isn’t going anywhere, and rushing into it without a lot of communication beforehand can do more damage than good to a relationship.”

And you know what you’re talking about, don’t you, Nolan?
I tried not to cringe.

“Do you think it can do good things to a relationship?”

“It can,” I said with a subtle nod. “With a couple who has a strong, solid foundation of trust and communication, and can get involved sexually with other couples without jealousy issues. I still advise any couple to proceed with caution, keep communicating about it constantly, and be vigilant for any signs of problems.”

Communicating. Yeah. Doing such a fine job of that, aren’t you?

As her appointment drew to a close, Ellen assured me she’d discuss this one thing at a time with her husband. Though she wouldn’t out and admit it, I had no doubt she was as curious about the lifestyle as she was women; she was certainly eager to try both.

One step at a time, Ellen. Trust me on this one.

I swore, not a week went by that someone didn’t broach the subjects of swinging or polyamory. Some even suggested, with their cheeks reddening and their voices lowered to near whispers, having affairs. Of course I discouraged affairs of any kind, but in general, I was open-minded about polyamory and swinging.

Lately, I wasn’t so sure how I felt about any of it. I’d seen plenty of couples—and groups—function just fine outside the socially accepted bounds of monogamy, but I’d never been less certain about my own relationship than I was now. Then again, we hadn’t set out to start doing…whatever it was we were doing. It had just happened. Without the communication and rules and boundaries established up front.

And now? Now emotions were involved. Emotions that had no business getting involved.

Donovan had been on duty the last three days and would be home tonight. Normally, I was thrilled when he came home, but I was nervous today. The sex after he’d come home from Carmen’s place the other night had been desperate and needy in ways it hadn’t been in I didn’t know how long, and we’d barely been able to look at each other the next morning. The longer the silences lingered, the more certain I was he’d seen right through me.