Buns

  I sat up, then crawled toward where he was. “Come on, you don’t need to see me,” I said, running one hand down his back. “To see me.” I picked up his left hand and brought it to my breast. His breath caught. “Tell me.”

  “Tell you?” His voice was thick and strangled.

  “What you feel. How I feel.” I brought his other hand to my face, turning into it and pressing a kiss in the center of his palm. “What you’re thinking.”

  “Eventually, Clara, you’re going to have to tell me what you’re thinking.”

  Oh. I nodded, unable to speak, unable to answer, but knowing if I was giving over to this, I was giving everything over. I nodded again into his hand, and that was what he needed.

  The hand on my breast brushed lightly across, the cotton of my dress thin enough that I could feel his fingers curving as the heat of my skin guided him. I shivered, my skin reacting to his touch instantly. Reaching up, I thumbed one button open, then another, pulling at the bodice of my dress to grant him access. I wanted, no I needed, to feel his hands on my bare skin.

  “Tell me,” I murmured again, needing his words as much as his touch.

  “You’re . . . soft,” he said, a faint smile ghosting across his lips. “So soft.”

  “Mm-hmm.” I sighed as his fingers found the opening of my dress and slipped inside.

  “Lace?” he asked. His thumb brushed across my nipple and my back arched.

  “Mm-hmm.” I sighed again.

  “It’s rough, a little, I can feel the tiny threads catching against the grooves on my fingertips,” he said. “But then your skin, so smooth.”

  I slipped down onto my elbows, my head dropping back as he moved over me. His mouth trailed kisses down the column of my neck, licking at the base of my throat, nipping at my collarbone. He held himself above me, his hand still exploring. He circled my nipple, feeling it rise under his touch.

  He smiled. “You’re excited.”

  I could feel him against my thigh, hard and thick. “You’re not?”

  His response was to nip harder, his teeth nibbling along the top of my breast, which was now rising and falling with my every breath, growing faster and more heated with every kiss. He slipped my bra strap from my shoulder, dipped his head, and put his mouth on me.

  Every nerve ending twisted, every neuron fired, and every toe pointed as his rough tongue dragged across my nipple.

  “Mmm . . . Archie . . .” I sighed, my back arching off the ground as his lips surrounded me. But where I was a wriggly squiggly mess beneath him, he suddenly stilled. His back stiffened, his hands froze, his entire demeanor changed.

  “Archie?” I asked, reaching up to smooth his hair back from his brow.

  “I need to tell you something,” he whispered, still frozen.

  “Okay . . .” I replied, wondering what in the world? The tension beneath us had changed, shifted somehow. He was worried, anxious, and still frozen. “You want to tell me, or my boob?”

  He snorted, his breath warm on the very boob in question. But the tension broke once again, and I could see him relax, if only a little. I curled my arm beneath my head, propping myself up so I could see him. He leaned on one arm over me, his other hand reflexively pushing the missing eyeglasses up his nose.

  He was still nervous.

  “I’ve only slept with one woman my entire life.”

  Oh. Oh . . .

  “I’ve only ever had one first time. Ashley and I were sixteen, we’d snuck away to her parents’ beach house. We had candles, and wine, and soft music, and it was all very planned out, very perfect.”

  I mentally flashed on the backseat of a 1972 Chevelle with Chuckie Sullivan, Nickelback on the CD player. I shuddered.

  He took my shudder as laughter. “I know, it sounds silly, right?”

  “Not silly, it actually sounds really nice,” I replied, smoothing his hair back again.

  He leaned into it, closing his eyes, turning his head to kiss the center of my palm. “I was just thinking how funny it is, losing your virginity. It’s something that happens to everyone, but in such different ways.

  “The point is, I was with Ashley, and only Ashley. I’ve never done this with anyone else. I wasn’t sure I’d even want to do this, after she was gone.”

  “Listen, Archie, we don’t have to—”

  “Until you, Clara,” he interrupted, his eyes flashing open and searing into mine. “I want you, I fucking want you more than I ever thought possible, but I’m . . . well . . . a little out of my depth here.”

  “Archie?”

  “Yes?”

  I moved swiftly, rising up and rolling to the side, bringing him with me, rolling us both so that now I was on top, moving his hand down to my leg and hitching it around his hip. “Believe me when I say, you’ve so got this. But if you want to stop then you just say the word.”

  His eyes, good lord those eyes. Deeply blue, deeply troubled, at war with his past and his present. They searched my own for answers. I couldn’t tell him what to do, but I could give him a hint, couldn’t I?

  Breathless, I slid his hand farther along my thigh. Breathless, I hooked his thumb through the band of my panties. And then, still breathless, I placed both of my hands on his chest, waiting to see what he would do.

  He did nothing. His chest rose and fell, and I rose and fell right along with him. My head was telling me to smile, to reassure him, to tell him it was okay and we could take this slow and at whatever pace he needed.

  My heart was telling me to be patient, because any second now Archie’s internal war would be over and he’d be ready for fast filthy fucking, the kind without candles and soft music.

  Any second now.

  Any second now.

  Any second n—

  His thumb moved. The thumb, the thumb that controlled the fate of my panties. And of the world. It was one and the same as that perfect thumb dragged against my skin, hooked to the flimsiest scrap of silk you ever did see, even if Archie couldn’t without his glasses, and God bless America if he didn’t drag those panties right off.

  And then I took over. Because I knew he needed me to. And because I wanted to. I rose up over him, my dress hiked up around my hips, and breasts spilling out of the top, and grasped him firmly, positioning him just so that when I slipped down down down he

  Oh

  He

  Was

  There

  And

  Oh

  He

  Was

  So

  Hard

  and something very much like wonder crossed his face as I took him inside of me.

  And then something exactly like lust crowded in as he crowded in, Christ he crowded in, filling me up and raising me up and he thrust into me from below.

  Uncertainty was gone. Should haves and what ifs were gone. And in their place was pure carnal heat. Archie’s hands gripped my hips, pushing and pulling as he filled me up and I moved on him, rocking, feeling every ridiculous inch of him inside, he was inside while we were outside and it was frightening and maddening and Jesus was I coming and how could I be coming already and I shuddered and shook as all the colors ran and the world narrowed down before it exploded.

  He sat up beneath me, lips on my breast and hands on my backside as I rode him hard, rode him to another orgasm and another, anchored by those searching eyes, swirling ink and beautiful as his own powerful orgasm shook through his body.

  When his hips finally stilled, when his fingers released my skin, when the cords in his neck finally receded and the flush in his cheeks flooded in, we collapsed onto the balcony, his lips alternating between dropping tired kisses onto my neck and whispering my name.

  Clara, he said, over and over again. God, I loved hearing this man say my name.

  Chapter 16

  “Are you sure you want to go?”

  “I don’t want to, but I really can’t see a thing. I’ll be back in just a few minutes. If you want me to come back, that is.”

  “
I want you. To come. Back.” I grinned, tucking my arm through his as I led him to the door. “See what I did there?”

  “I didn’t, which is why I’m running down to my office to get my spare glasses. But yes, I see what you did there.”

  We’d come inside from the balcony, messy and tumbled looking, blissful and happy looking, still kissing and touching, but when Archie tripped over an ottoman and careened off a lamp, he’d insisted on retrieving his extra set of glasses from downstairs.

  I didn’t want him to leave. I could still feel him, where he’d been, inside me. But . . .

  I peeked out into the hallway. “The coast is clear.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “There’s no one in the hall,” I said as I guided him out the door. Whether or not we’d been moaning and groaning on the balcony only moments before was beside the point, he was still in charge here, and I’d rather not anyone see him ducking out of my room with messy hair and swollen lips. And lipstick on his collar. And, oh dear, lipstick on his . . . pants. I swooped in quickly, licking my thumb and rubbing at his collar.

  “What’s this?” he asked, taking the opportunity to slip his arms around my waist and hold me close.

  “Trying to cover up the evidence,” I whispered, scrubbing at the stain. “Eh, you’re gonna need to send this out to the cleaners. And not your regular cleaners, unless you want them to know you’ve been fooling around with someone who’s been wearing fuck-me-red lipstick.”

  “That’s not really the name, is it?” he murmured, kissing my neck.

  “Might as well be. Send those pants out too,” I said, laughing when he missed my neck and nearly kissed the door instead. “Honestly, you’re like Mr. Magoo.”

  “Mr. Magoo wouldn’t have made you come three times, Ms. Morgan.”

  “You just called a coatrack Ms. Morgan, but you’re right about the other thing.”

  “Three times,” he said once more, unable to keep the pride out of his voice.

  “Three times, Mr. Bryant,” I agreed.

  “So far,” he whispered deliciously in my ear, pulling me tightly against him.

  “Someone could see,” I warned, as his hands dipped below my waist, grabbing a handful of my backside and giving it a squeeze.

  He looked left, then right, decided he could see well enough to know that no one was there, and leaned in to kiss me slowly. And thoroughly. “Give me ten minutes. Just let me get my glasses.”

  “You don’t need your glasses, Mr. Bryant,” I answered, breathless.

  He bit his lower lip. Then he bit my lower lip. Then he said, “When I get back, I’m going to fuck you again.” I gasped. “And this time, I want to watch.”

  He took the key from my hand, then gave me a little push back. Pocketing my key, he winked. “Ten minutes.”

  And then he was gone. Hot damn. I loved a well-dressed man who had a filthy mouth.

  Exactly ten minutes later I smiled as I heard the key in the lock turning. I heard the door open, then close, and then his footsteps as he crossed through the living room.

  “Clara?”

  “In here,” I replied, turning the water on. A moment later I saw his reflection in the mirror as he entered the bathroom. I turned from the faucet just in time to see his eyes widen behind his glasses. And then his jaw clench.

  Standing in the middle of the bathroom, I slipped the robe from my shoulders and let it fall to the floor. I heard his intake of breath as he saw me for the first time, naked and waiting for his return.

  “I was a little cold from being outside. Spring is here, but it’s still a bit chilly, don’t you think?” I spoke as though it was perfectly natural for me to be naked, walking toward him. I made sure my hips swayed a little more than normal, made sure there was a little extra bounce there, and in my breasts as well. I reached across him to grab two towels, and in doing so brushed up against him. “I thought I’d warm up in the bathtub, maybe you’d like to join me? It’s big enough for two.”

  “Big.” He nodded, his eyes round as he watched me move across the room. I watched his gaze slip across my body, his lust evident, his body taut like a live wire.

  I stepped into the tub, slipping under the water. “I’ll just be in here, when you’re ready.” I grinned, feeling the warmth swirl all around. He unbuttoned the rest of his shirt, kicked off his shoes, and pulled his suit jacket off.

  I knew what he meant when he said he wanted to watch. I wanted to see him, see his body, take in every angle and plane that I’d missed on the balcony in the darkness. With each article of clothing that hit the floor, I saw more of this man, and more of what I’d been missing.

  “You’re kind of gorgeous, you know that?” I called out to him as he stepped out of his pants. He was gorgeous. Broad shoulders, long strong arms, narrow tapered waist. A little bit of auburn-colored hair covered his chest. That same hair blazed a trail south, disappearing below the band of his boxers.

  “Gorgeous?” He ran his hands through his hair, making it stand even farther on end. He walked over to the bathtub, kneeling down just beside it. He watched me, the tips of my breasts just breaking the water’s surface. He gazed down at me, watching me, taking everything in. “Jesus, look at you.”

  I bit my lower lip, looking up at him through heavy lids. Keeping his eyes on mine the entire time, he slipped off his boxers, and stepped into the tub.

  I could feel the water change as he moved behind me, the water rising to the very edge of the tub but stopping just shy. I watched as his hands slipped around my waist, tugging me back against him. Christ, he was hard, I could feel him sliding across my bottom.

  “You’re very tall,” I remarked, as his legs snaked around mine, at least a foot longer.

  “Am I tall or are you short?” he asked, nipping at the exact spot where my shoulder became my neck.

  “Both, I suppose.” I leaned back against him. “If we flood this bathroom how much trouble are we going to be in?”

  “Who’s going to flood the bathroom?”

  I turned to look back at him, the movement disrupting the water and making it nearly overflow. “See, I gotta let some of this water out.”

  “Clara, don’t worry about it,” he started to say, as I leaned forward toward the drain, unplugging it to let some of the water out. “On second thought,” he groaned, running his hands down my back toward my hips, which were now poised in the air as I sat forward on all fours, “what a wonderful idea, feel free to let out as much water as you feel is necessary.” And then he kissed me. On my backside. One cheek, then the other, his teeth nipping my skin and then . . .

  “Oh!” I exclaimed, tipping forward against the front of the tub, slapping at the tile.

  “Hold still,” he growled, as he tilted my hips forward, angling them upward as his tongue licked at my clit. We both moaned as he touched me this way for the first time, his mouth surrounding me, working me, sucking and fucking. The cold tile pressed against my breasts as his hot mouth devoured me as I rocked my hips against his face. His groans were as guttural as mine as I came in his mouth, on his tongue, seeing stars and splashing water everywhere as I came apart for him once more.

  He splashed plenty of water of his own as he rose up behind me, put me on all fours properly and drove into me hard from behind.

  “The water,” I panted, his hand slipping across my back and sliding under me, tweaking a nipple on his way to my shoulder to hang on tight, moving me back against him. “The water is . . . fuck off that’s good . . . the water is going everywhere!”

  With his left hand he swept a pile of towels off the shelf and onto the floor exactly where it had started to puddle, then slipped his hand down along my back, ending with a resounding wet smack on my ass.

  “Let me worry about the water, Bossy, you just concentrate on how this feels.”

  And I did. I gave over and threw back my head, arching my back, arching into him, letting everything I was feeling run wild across my body as his groans became deeper and m
ore animal by the second, using my body, hot and wet and slippery and right exactly . . . there.

  “I’m spoiled now, you realize this?”

  “Spoiled?”

  “Mm-hmm,” I murmured as his hand traced a path down my shoulder, along my elbow, slipping down to my hip, smoothing across my bottom and back up again. His hand made this trip over and over again, while the other one held my breast. Curled around me almost entirely, we lay like spoons in a drawer. A very cozy, warm, contented drawer. After refilling the tub and enjoying an actual bath we’d retreated to my bed, exhausted and waterlogged but still unable to stop touching each other. Before retreating, however, Archie took a few moments to build a fire and the result was spectacular. With the room lit solely by firelight, everything seemed softer somehow. Corners were rounded, edges were blurred, even the very air seemed gentle. It was quiet and comfortable, and just feeling his hands on my body felt soothing, grounding somehow.

  “All of this. The fire, the bed, the gorgeous.” I kissed his forearm, nuzzling against it. “My bed won’t feel quite the same now without you in it. I’ve been spoiled.”

  “Well, I’ll do my best to stay in it as long as possible,” he replied, kissing me just behind my ear and bumping his hips into mine. Everywhere we could be touching, we were. Skin to skin, contoured and full snuggle.

  As much as I was loving the full snuggle, the reality of what had happened, what had been happening for weeks now, was unavoidable.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Hmm?” I asked.

  He kissed behind my ear again. “You sighed. Almost like you were deflating.”

  I shrugged. “Just thinking about what happens next. How do we handle this? What do we do?”

  “I’d like to think we’d have another go, but you’ve exhausted me. I’m not complaining, just exhausted.”

  “Not about that.” I laughed, flipping over so I could see him. The sheet nudged down, uncovering my bare bottom. I was thrilled to see his eyes wander, his pupils dilate, his breathing change. He might be exhausted, but there was no doubt he’d be having another go before the night was through. But for now . . . “I mean, about us. This was amazing, you’re amazing, but what the hell are we doing? Like, seriously, what are we doing?”