She walks over to the bed, the mattress still wrapped in a protective film, and sits down, making the plastic sheet rustle. Her palm runs over the mattress. “I don’t have big enough bedding.” She bursts out laughing and drops back, staring at the ceiling.
I stalk towards her, pressing my knee between her thighs and collecting up her hands to press them above her head. “The apartment has my blessing,” I state, dropping to kiss her as a wide smile breaks out, lighting up her face.
* * *
“If a bottle of your shower wash goes missing, I will claim insanity,” Lauren hums, trailing her fingers along my arm from where it is resting on the side of the bathtub. The bubbles cloak my skin, silky and gentle, as she draws a smiley face and drops her head back into my shoulder, her wet hair trailing over my pecs and floating in the water.
“Claim it all you want. I know where you work and live. I’m certain I could retrieve it with ease.”
“Maybe I want to take something with me to remember this weekend.” Her softly spoken words are laced with vulnerability.
“So tell me something about you that no one else knows, and I’ll give you a part of me in return.” The water laps around her navel, her breasts kissing the cooler air. I trail my fingers up and down her stomach. “Tell me something intimate,” I rasp. My finger rings her belly button, and her foot rubs the length of my shin as she shifts to encourage my hand lower. Her breast grazes my arm and her breath hitches. I keep circling her stomach, trailing my hand down to her pussy and pulling away just as her hips tilt for more. “Tell me,” I let my hand explore, “a secret, Lauren.” Her head lolls back, her breasts arching high. Her slit is swollen and slick with pleasure. Dragging my finger along her lips, I nip at her neck. “If you want my fingers to fuck your tight little pussy, I want your words.” Back and forth, my fingers roll, spreading her wide and teasing her entrance.
Indecision splinters across her gaze. She swallows, and I want to cup her throat and stop whatever was being washed away and demand she confesses her fucking sins to me. “Matteo doesn’t kiss as well as I thought you would,” she blurts, her cheeks burning red.
I growl at the sound of my friend’s name on her plump lips. I advance on her, biting her lip between my teeth and rolling it, the bite of pain a warning. “I said tell me something no one else knows.” My tongue sweeps in possessively. “I already know this.” My eyes spark smugly.
“Matteo and I never even kissed. I wouldn’t have gone through with it. I wanted you to drive me home.” Her breathy confession has heat tingling at the base of my spine and my cock stiffening painfully hard. I give her no warning and drive two fingers deep inside, curling them as I pull away and fuck them back in. “Yes.” Her choked plea clings to the ceiling.
I drag her mouth to mine and claim her lips as my own. Spearing my tongue deeply as I plunge my fingers in and out, her warmth clinging to my hand. I cup her breast, massaging the pale flesh and rolling her nipple between my fingers. Her hips fly upwards. Her moan cemented to my lips. “I own all your whispers, all your tears—every little gasp has my name on it.” I thumb her clit as I work my fingers in and out, adding pressure as I roll my fingers deep. “I own this body—every orgasm is mine and mine alone.” My fingers are slick with her wetness. I slide them along her clit, lifting her hips out of the water so she can watch me work her pussy. She chokes out a sweet moan. “Every time you break apart, it’s my face you will see.”
“Yes.” She nods, a low sob expelled from her throat.
“Whose pussy is this?” I spread her lips wide and groan. Dipping my finger in, I lift it to my mouth and suck deeply, her head twisting to watch, her eyes wide with need.
“Oh god, yours… it’s yours, Cain.”
Slipping my hands under her thighs, I lift her up and backwards, and my erection throbs as she takes it in her grasp, lining me up before I let her sink down. I snap my hips upward, surging deeply. Her gasp of pleasure rivals my bark. “You’re damn right it’s mine.”
She pleads for more, twisting to find my mouth. I want to give in to her, but the idea of bringing her to climax slowly, delaying our release, bringing us to the edge over and over, only to hold it out of reach, is far more tempting.
I fuck her until her skin is wrinkled and her legs are boneless. I fuck her until the bath groans in protest, and our cries of desperation could crack the tiles. When my release finally comes, it chases hers, catching it and locking us together. The water has long since gone cold. The majority sloshed over the sides and sinking down the drain. Lauren’s pants are short and soft, yet my own are being sucked down in pained lungfuls. Her legs are hooked over the edges, her head hanging over the side as I rut into her, never getting deep enough. Her chin is cupped in my hand as I kiss her through the madness. Lashes flutter, and big eyes blink shyly at me. Smirking, I slip out of her, pecking her reddened lips when she hisses in protest.
“I watched my father kill himself.” My chest heaves as I grapple for air, my body slick with sweat. My damp forehead rolls over hers, avoiding the astonishing pain I’ve shocked her with. “I think he would hate the man I’ve become,” I confess woodenly. My voice is devoid of emotion. I sink against her body, her creamy skin supple and comforting, her limbs wrapped around me, holding me tightly as we breathe harshly.
She pulls in a small breath, daring to respond.
“Don’t say anything.” The finality in my words has her chest deflating. “Now I know who owns all your pleasure, and you know who owns my pain.”
We don’t speak. We hardly breathe. Lauren holds me as we lay uncomfortably in the large tub. I think I nod off at one point, and when I finally lift my head to look at her, she is already asleep. Carefully, I ease her out of the bath and carry her to my bedroom.
Chapter21
Lauren
When I wake, the moon is still riding high, clouds thick and fluffy, spread across the sky. Cain’s light snoring breaches my ear, and I lay still for a moment, taking stock of my body, unsure why I’m awake when my limbs are achy and tired. My stomach protests, grumbling heavily. Turning my head, I blink as my gaze adjusts, allowing me to focus on the man sprawled next to me. His arm is thrown over his head, his chest wide and inviting as he sleeps with his other hand resting on my hip. He looks calm, nothing like the man who bared his deepest secret to me with sweat drenching his hair and the scent of sex floating around us.
“Now I know who owns all your pleasure, and you know who owns my pain.”
Something heavy and painful sits low in my stomach. I can’t imagine the grief of losing a parent, let alone bearing witness to one who took their own life. My heart aches for Cain. I wanted to say so much to him, but nothing I could say would repair the pain—no words would salve the wound he was walking around with.
Easing out of his hold, I shuffle along the top of the mattress and sit up, holding my breath. Cain doesn’t move, but I twist to ensure I haven’t woken him. Tiptoeing across to the chair, I quietly pick up his shirt and slip it on, buttoning it up as I make my way downstairs to the kitchen.
The penthouse is still. The bank of windows stretches to the furthest side of the room, but no sound is permitted past the thick glass. Moonlight streamlines inside, sending a healthy glow into the main living area, and my eyes adjust further to the darkened space. There is no creak as I descend the stairs, just the soft pad of my bare feet. I find the switch for the under-cabinet lighting and move around the kitchen, preparing everything I need to make a milky drink. Then it’s just me and the moon as the city sleeps below.
I find a spot on the sofa and curl my feet under me, sipping my drink and only then do I let the shock from last night burn through me. My heart breaks for the man who looked as broken as he did handsome. He doesn’t want my pity or to see his pain reflected back in my own gaze. I don’t know why he confessed those things to me. I could blame it on lust, although Cain doesn’t strike me as the kind of man who falls victim to something so basic. Whatever his reasons were, it was shared in confidence. It’s another thing I will take with me. Something to never be shared—only to be wrapped up in layers of trust and buried in the bowel of my heart. Placing my empty cup down on the coffee table, I lean into the cushions and sigh. I could wake him, but I won’t. I need a moment, just some time to process. Pulling a throw over me, I close my eyes and pretend the weekend is only just beginning again.
It seemed like a good idea until it wasn’t.