A clench of her glutes welcomed him to a whole new level of pain, even before she said, “Then give it to me and put us both out of our misery.”
It wasn’t on today’s agenda, but…fuck the agenda. He yanked the drawstring of his shorts and dragged his cock out.
“Do it.” She leaned forward, lifted her hips, and shimmied. A moment later she sat on his lap. Warm, smooth, completely bare skin slid over his. “We both need this. Afterward, we can get on with our lives.”
Aaaand, no. This particular brand of misery was what kept her coming back. As soon as he gave her what she wanted, she’d be done with him. He’d walk away with her name and the satisfaction of a job well done, but suddenly that wasn’t enough.
What would be? Hell if he knew, but the knee-jerk answer was more. More time with her. And the one way he could guarantee himself more of her time was by withholding the thing she wanted most. “Not so fast. The last time I gave you my cock, you chose to cheat us both. You’re going to have to earn the privilege again. One step at a time.”
“You promised.”
He clamped an arm around her waist to prevent her from jumping up. “I did,” he agreed without hesitation. “And I’m going to deliver on that promise, but I have three more days to do it, don’t I?”
“Rider?
??”
“Don’t I?” he persisted, and used his free hand to cup her chin.
She let out a sigh and sagged against him. “Yes.”
She couldn’t know what a stirring sight she made, sitting there all flustered and defiant, caught in a trap of her own desires. He understood the trap, because he was in one, too. One a lot more complicated than hers. He tipped her face toward his and rewarded her patience with a long, sliding kiss. Soft lips yielded immediately. She hooked her arms around his neck. The blanket fell open, but it was okay. There was no one around to see her clinging to him, breasts exposed to the chilly air, pants around her knees and her thighs wide. Though he’d avoided getting too caught up in anyone for years, the notion of this woman clinging to him turned him on in ways he didn’t want to analyze. “I’m going to take care of you, Czarina. You never have to worry about that, but I have a timeline in mind, understand?”
A sound halfway between a laugh and a sob served as her first response. Then she added, “Do I have a choice?”
“Of course.” Even as he said it, he took hold of her chin, cupped a hand between her legs, and pulled her tight against him. “You don’t really want to exercise it, though.” He’d make sure of that. “You want me to do this…” He introduced two fingers to her mouth at the same time he sank two inside her, enjoying her quick inhale and the slide of her ass against his shaft as she jerked up and then slowly subsided into his lap again as he withdrew a degree.
“I’ve been looking, and I’ve been listening. Want to know what I’ve cataloged about you so far?”
A whimper served as her answer. Her lips closed around his fingers and sucked them deeper.
“You like to be held—to feel secure, possibly even dominated a little—and you want to be filled. So I’m going to hold you”—he flexed his arm to nestle her more snugly against him—“and I’m going to fill you.” He pushed into her again and waited out her writhing acceptance. “And we’re going to watch the sunrise. Does that sound like a plan?”
Her neck muscles gave out, and her head lolled on his shoulder. “That’s right, Czarina. I’m going to fuck this beautiful mouth with my fingers, and I’m going to fuck your beautiful pussy with my hand, and while I’m at it, I’m going to get myself off on this beautiful ass.” As he spoke, he demonstrated every aspect of his plan. She gasped and dug the toes of her white Pumas into his calves in an effort to establish some leverage. He clamped her hip with his forearm and prevented her from getting the leverage she sought.
“Uh-uh. Yesterday, I let you set the pace for yourself. Today, it’s my turn. We do this at my pace.” He angled his fingers up and in, searching for the spot along her interior wall he doubted anyone, including her, had properly exploited. The one designed to give her a deeper, more powerful climax. To ease the intensity of his intrusion, he swept his thumb over her clit. She arched back, which had the torturous side effect of pushing her hips into the cradle of his lap and grinding her ass against his cock. His balls throbbed in warning. The pink-and-gold sky went blurry.
Timing, he reminded himself, and fought his way out of the fog of need so he could focus on her. He pressed two fingertips to her tongue, swept two a little higher along her inner channel, and reaped the benefits of another full-body tremble. Her respiration turned fast and shallow—a little faster and shallower than his. A third, deeper pass and he found the button. Her tremble extended, nearly triggered a full-blown shudder. Like starting an engine with a hard choke, he kept the pressure on, doling out the next stroke, and then the next. She alternated between trying to jerk away and struggling to push him deeper. Finally, with a helpless moan, she buried her face against the side of his neck.
Jesus, it felt too good, holding her like this. Heavy, inevitable pressure flowed south from his gut and landed in his balls like a brutal weight. They tightened, ratcheting tension into his already-pounding dick.
Determined not to blow any aspect of the timing, he guided her head around so she faced front. On the horizon, the sun floated in an ocean of clouds like an island of fire. “Eyes open, Czarina. I don’t want you to miss the best motherfucking sunrise of your life.”
Chapter Seven
Arden blinked her watering eyes open. Dazzling as it was, she couldn’t blame the dawn lighting up the sky in a blaze of orange, pink, and lavender for the sting of tears. She couldn’t blame the cool air, or the ten-thousand-foot elevation. No, responsibility rested squarely on the daunting shoulders of the man holding her, surrounding her, tapping some undiscovered susceptible spot inside her while attending to her clit with a steady strum.
She struggled for breath. For control…or surrender—anything to alleviate this agonizing state of anticipation he’d worked her into. Another wave of sensation rippled out from that magic place where his fingers rubbed, and a corresponding wave of trembles rattled through her. The strength of them left her thankful for the anchor of his fingers subduing her tongue and his hard body supporting hers, but also intensified her awareness of her deprivation—every thick inch of the cock he wasn’t giving her. Then he pressed the spot—longer and harder than before—and all notions of deprivation flew from her mind. Breath backed up in her lungs. The pleasure building inside her twisted agonizingly tight. Too tight for her to withstand. Something had to give. Had to.
He groaned and withdrew his fingers from her mouth so fast the sudden void left her dazed. A second later he bent her forward so he could fist his shaft. A couple quick pumps and a muffled curse were all she registered because the new position twisted that coiling pleasure to a breaking point. Something did indeed have to give…and it was going to be her.
And then it did. She did. Her cry of relief rebounded against the still, heavy air around them as her internal muscles dissolved into a thousand frantic spasms. She gave, and gave, and gave, with such uncontrolled intensity it felt as if her pleasure spilled directly into his waiting palm.
God only knew how much time passed before she slowly resurfaced. The sun had broken through the clouds to gild everything in an amber glow by the time her vision cleared. As the overwhelming chaos of her orgasm subsided, her nervous system picked up new details. A warm mouth cruised along the ticklish curve of her neck, bestowing the occasional kiss. One generous hand covered her breast, the protective weight making it hard for her to draw a deep breath. Another lingered between her legs, stroking her still-quivering center so gently she almost whimpered. In that moment she felt utterly taken care of. Cherished.
Holy shit, Arden. This is sex, plain and simple. She unwound her arms from around his neck, but the move shifted her breast against his palm, and he chose that moment to knead the vulnerable flesh in a particularly devastating caress. Her arms flopped to her sides. She couldn’t find the strength to lift her head off his shoulder. Okay, correction. The sex wasn’t plain or simple. It qualified as some of the most inventive of her life. But still, it was just sex—a short-term diversion to help her de-stress and recover her mojo, not lose her mind. Or her heart.
Just the thought that it might actually be at risk was enough to get her moving. She unwound her feet from his legs. “Wow. You’re really—”