“Don’t worry,” he murmurs, bending to kiss my throat, then my shoulder, making my nipple pull tight. “Nancy made it pretty clear they won’t be bothering us. Or watching.” He bends lower, capturing my aching tip in his mouth, making my head fall back as his tongue swirls in dizzying circles.
“But shouldn’t we find a bedroom?” I ask, pulse spiking as he draws my wrist behind me to the small of my back and holds it captive there.
He shakes his head, brushing his lips back and forth across my nipple as he moves, making me squirm in his lap. “No, we shouldn’t.” He catches my other hand, pulling it back to join the first, as he asks, “Is this okay?”
“Yes,” I whisper, arching closer to his mouth as he gathers both of my wrists into one big hand, ensuring I’m at his mercy. I watch him shift his attention to my other breast, my chest rising and falling faster as he slowly, deliberately drives me out of my mind. He licks and sucks and nips at my sensitive flesh until I’m whimpering and grinding against his cock through his jeans, desperate for relief.
“Please,” I beg, eyes squeezing shut as he drags his teeth over my nipple again.
“Please, what?”
“Let me come,” I say, breath harsh in my lungs.
“How do you want to come?” he asks. “My mouth or my fingers?”
“Neither.” I rock my hips against his erection, literally feeling like I might die if I don’t get him inside me in the next five seconds. “I want you. Now.”
“That’s not going to happen.”
“Please.” I force my eyes open, catching his determined gaze with my no doubt pained one as I beg, “Please take me upstairs and take off your pants.”
He shakes his head. “Last chance to decide, or I’m going to decide for you.”
I bite my lip, but I can’t seem to stop myself from whispering, “I want you to fuck me, Zack. Please, fuck me. Please.”
His eyes go dark, and for a second, I’m positive he’s going to throw me over his shoulder and make a run for the stairs. Instead, he releases my wrists and, with one swift and efficient movement, flips me onto my back on the couch and shoves my skirt up to my waist. A beat later, his hand is in my panties, his fingers driving inside me as the heel of his palm grinds against my clit.
“Oh God,” I cry out. The way he touches me—so possessive and familiar, like my body has belonged to him for years—drives me crazy. I cling to his shoulders, fingers digging into the thick muscle there as he pumps his fingers hard and fast, demanding I give him what he wants.
My orgasm.
My release.
My pleasure. That’s what he needs, and he’s not going to stop until he gets it.
I try to reach for the button on his jeans, but he moves my hand away and bends his head to my breasts, worshipping them with his mouth, building the hunger swirling inside me until I have no choice but to break.
I come crying out his name and bucking into his hand, slick heat flowing from my body to coat his fingers as he whispers, “Fuck, yes, I love it when you come. Watching you gets me so hot, Colette. I can’t wait to be inside you again.”
“Yes,” I murmur, skin buzzing as I float back to earth, still wanting him every bit as much as I did before he gave me one of the best orgasms of my life. “Now. Please.”
“Tomorrow. I promise,” he says, kissing my forehead.
And then, suddenly, he’s up, off the couch, and sprinting out the back door.
Chapter Eleven
Zack
I run away.
Literally run.
Run from the gorgeous woman sprawled half-naked underneath me, begging me to fuck her.
I don’t know what the hell is wrong with me, or where this sudden determination to make a baby has come from, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to come again until tomorrow morning.
No matter how uncomfortable things get between now and then.
Uncomfortable? It’s like we’ve gone five rounds with the heavyweight champion down here, asshole. What the hell is wrong with you?!
To say my balls are unhappy is an understatement. They’re on the verge of detaching themselves from my shitty excuse for a body and taking their show on the road.
Doesn’t sound too bad right now, honestly. I can’t remember the last time I was this uncomfortable.
Adjusting myself with a wince, I continue across the wide lawn toward the cottage that houses the recording studio. The smell of warm summer grass and sweet clover fills my head. A deeper breath brings memories of picnics with my grandparents and long summer days spent playing in the backyard while Gram hung laundry or peeled apples for preserves.
But the innocent memories are no match for the hot-blooded urgency of the present. All I want to do is turn around, run back to Colette, and fuck her until I’m free of this raging hunger.