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‘Are you ready?’ he then asks, moving his hands to my wrists. I nod as he pulls them above my head, clasping them in one hand. He pulls out almost fully then, his fingers tightening, his mouth filling the pause with dirty promises before thrusting back in.
I cry out, my fingernails stinging my palms, my insides gripping his cock.
I beg. I plead. I promise to be good, if he’d only move.
Dan smiles, not exactly sadistically, but maybe with triumph, before kissing me long and sweet. Driving into me so hard and fast as he anchors himself by my wrists. Over and over again, he pounds like he’d crawl inside if he could. Such abuse. Such pleasure. I wrap my legs around him, my fingers grasping the air. I detonate, coming hard while wondering if my wrists can stand the pressure as he throws back his head, undulating above me. He makes a sound of plaintive pleasure—half agony, half release—so strong it echoes through my bones. Through my very existence, I feel him everywhere as his body cries my name.
Chapter Thirteen
DAN
In the blue-dark of the morning, I wake naked and without an inch of bedclothes. Turning to the warmth radiating from the other side of the bed, I can’t help but smile. Pale light from the streetlamp outside highlights the chaos of tawny golden strands across the pillows next to me, its shadows half-concealing how Louise appears to be rolled in every item of bedding I own. That my balls seem to have retracted inward and my nose feels numb are of no consequence because I’m quite content just to watch her.
The more time I spend with Louise, the more I need. So I don’t move; I just lie watching her, my ridiculous smile deepening. Until it falls. None of this—my thoughts, our fucking—is reality.Yet also not quite in the realms of fantasy.My fantasies lean toward the hard; places Louise has no business in. She’s real enough and interested enough to dip her toe in this, but did I want to be the one to take her? To corrupt her for my pleasure. Would it turn her into Belle?Impossible, my mind whispers,for Belle’s is responsible for dragging you to hell.
By what method did a night with a no-name girl snowball into this? A craving to be near. A longing to be cradled within. So much for self-preservation. For not getting involved again. Those plans had been obliterated from the minute she’d stepped through my front door. The place I’d kept detached from the rest of my existence.
Maybe Belle was right this time. Maybe I do invite trouble.
The thought of my ex has me groaning and dragging both hands through my hair. Has me swearing under my breath. Belle calls me her monster and, to an extent, she’s right, because she made me this way.
How Belle hadn’t frightened off Louise was, quite frankly, amazing. Amazing yet strange. Louise seems to keep her thoughts contained. She’d even met Hal, the one thing good from my marriage. But despite the questions, and how well things seem, all I can think about is but how does she feel about me? Like a schoolboy in the first crush, I’ve spent hours analysing and dissecting everything Louise had said. Scrutinizing and verifying every nuanced breath. We didn’t discuss work. She didn’t ask me what I did while we’re apart. She made no effort to get to know me—not beyond the bedroom. Why wasn’t she interested in the information other women sought?
I know I’m attractive, though perhaps a little vain. Interesting. Commanding. Erudite, even; knowledge gained in the pursuit of pleasure. Gestalt, Jeung, a little Freud. Worldly. Charming, when I’d half a mind. Also a father. An ex-husband. And now a liar.
My head falls forward, my eyes shuttering closed, as I remembered how, in the heat of the moment that first night, I might have suggested I was an academic of sorts. Why hadn’t I told her I owned a club? Either of them. The one we’d been in or the one I seemed to be hiding her from.Or was it the other way around?
Would she forgive me for a suggestion that had grown into a lie? Would we ever even get to that point?
And why wasn’t she asking questions?
Perhaps, it was that she didn’t intend to hang around.
Something in my chest tightens. I sit abruptly, swinging my legs out of the bed, my back to Louise. It feels wrong lying next to her.Like I’m some sort of a viper in the nest.I need to get up—man up—tell her! But as she stirs, and I turn to look at her in all her languid-eyed loveliness, I know it won’t happen right now.
Chapter Fourteen
LOUISE
On the edge of the bed wearing little else but one of Dan’s shirts and a wide smile, I watch as he pulls himself to sit. Gloriously naked, the morning light makes the hardness of his body seem more marble than real. Leaning closer, he pulls a couple of damp strands of hair from my face.
‘Go on,’ he coaxes, fully aware of how uncomfortable his suggestion makes me. ‘Spill the beans.’
‘I-I left them at home. I told you.’ I look away and try to quell my nerves by busying myself by towel drying my hair.
‘Nervous looks good on you.’ His voice is low and sexy, but he’s not distracting me this way. ‘I love looking at you when you’re embarrassed, too.’
My head whips around to him and his admission, which makes me feel a little uncomfortable. At least, the squirming kind. I resist the urge to tell him he’s a pervert because that would make me one, too.
‘Come on. Tell me,’ he whispers.
I shake my head as though to shake off his questions, or maybe the thoughts. ‘They... they... weren’t much fun, honestly.’
‘So you tried them at least?’ He sounds a little titillated. Comically so, for effect.
‘Well, yeah.’ I shift slightly, the bed creaking beneath me. ‘You don’t give a gift and then demand a report.’
‘Oh, Louise.’ He shakes his head, though his smile sneaks through. ‘You didn’t really expect me not to ask what kind of effect they had on you, did you?’
