9. Lacey
CHAPTER 9
LACEY
“Sit.” I point to the couch, and Eagle doesn’t hesitate. I flip off the light switch, plunging the sunroom into darkness, but I leave the ceiling fan running.
He sits and looks at me with an expression that’s guarded, and for a second, I hesitate. I mean, nothing much has changed since the other night except now we’re alone. Through every shitty moment of tonight—through my humiliation and stress—Eagle was there. He was so caring and kind to me.
This may be a bad decision, but I’m damned sure it can’t be my worst.
His thick legs are covered in the most luxurious navy-blue fabric I’ve ever seen, and I straddle his lap. He widens his eyes, but those beautiful blues stare through me, challenging me, asking me.
Is this what you want?
Are you sure?
He doesn’t have to say the words. After last night, I’m sure he’s feeling unsettled, but I want the chance to feel something good. To set aside the shit of the last few weeks, the last few months, and just give in to what I want.
Not what I have to do.
Not what I need to do.
What I want to do.
I trace my fingers along his sharp jaw, down the side of his neck and across the collar of the shirt that feels softer than the thousand-thread-count sheets at the Lantana.
He swallows hard but doesn’t touch me. It’s like he’s waiting to see what I’ll do, like he’s giving me time to find my way.
I lick my lips and lower my face to his. I whisper against his slightly open mouth, “Eagle, I’m sorry about last night. Can I please have a second chance?”
I feel a groan deep in his chest, a masculine growl that tears past his lips, but he doesn’t do or say anything.
“Eagle.” I breathe light kisses along the bottom of his mouth, teasing him with the softness of my lips.
He groans again, and then I feel his hands on my hips. “Lacey.” His voice is thick. “What do you want from me?”
I’m comfortable straddling his lap, my legs bent at the knees. I rock my hips a bit and feel the crotch of his tux.
“Kiss me,” I whisper.
He doesn’t miss a beat. He slides his hands beneath my hair and cups my neck, and then he draws my face toward his. He kisses my right eye, then my left, taps the tip of my nose with his, and flicks the tip of his tongue against my lower lip.
Then, he consumes me. My eyes fall closed as bliss floods my body at his kiss. Our mouths are open, tasting each other, kissing, licking, sucking. I’m wiggling against his erection; my sleep shorts already damp from how aroused I am.
His hands leave my hips and move to the front of my thin T-shirt. “This okay?” he asks. “We giving your neighbors a show?”
I giggle. “Fence,” I breathe.
The fan whirs above us, and the moon shines bright in the dark sky as I feel Eagle cup my breasts in his hands. Through the fabric, he strokes my nipples with the pads of his thumbs, the friction sparking delicious pings that travel from my nipples to my core.
I lift my face from his, arching my back to give him more of my tits. I can’t help what I’m doing now. My hips move on their own, driven by need and desire, dancing a rhythm against his lap that comes from someplace so primal, so instinctive, it just feels right.
Beneath my thighs, the gorgeous texture of the tuxedo pants caresses my skin as I move. Eagle lifts the hem of my sleep shirt and exposes my breasts, my nipples practically screaming with need when the air hits my skin. But then he sucks me into his mouth, and I go weak. I grip his shoulders, and a flood of arousal coats my pussy. Every pulse of his tongue over my hard tip sends another wave of need through me.
I grip his shoulders and rock against his cock. I press my chest into his face, frantic for more. I weave my fingers through the back of his hair, feeling his stubble under my fingertips and pressing his head lightly so he knows he can take all of me into his mouth.
He pants and suckles, drawing my whole nipple, my entire areola into his mouth. My breasts disappear in his large hands as he kneads me, tugs me, and pulls me deeper into his mouth.
“Eagle,” I pant and whimper. My eyelids are so heavy, I feel like I’m looking at him through water, but I want to watch.
I’ve never dry humped another person before, but between his mouth on my breast, his cock straining against the pants beneath me, and the satiny tuxedo fabric stroking my inner thighs as I move, I nearly come undone.
“I might come,” I whisper, hardly able to get the words out. “Eagle, fuck, I might…”
I arch my back, and suddenly, Eagle slows, pulling his mouth from me. My body immediately starts to cool, and I wonder if he’s going to stop everything, cut me off at the last possible minute just like I did to him last night.
But I’m so wrong. He shifts his ass on the couch and wriggles a hand beneath him. He pulls out his wallet and drops it onto the cushion beside us.
“Condom?” he asks. “I’ve got two left.”
I chuckle and shake my head. Since he’s not planning on shoving me aside, I want to pay back the attention he’s paid to me.
I slide off his lap, expecting to see a giant wet spot on the front of his pants, but I don’t. Just a raging erection that looks like it’s about to break through that pricey zipper.
I drop to my knees between Eagle’s legs. “Is this okay?” I ask, slowly working down his zipper.
“Whatever you want, babe.” His voice is thick, and I am not at all surprised to see he’s wearing boxers with little motorcycles on them under his tux. The briefs are loose, and I’m able to slip my hands into the opening and gently tug his dick out. I don’t know how comfortable this will be, but I want to suck him while he’s still in the tux.
I kneel as close to the couch as I can and rub my palms along the tops of his thighs. Then I lean forward and kiss the head of his cock. Just a soft kiss, nothing wet or deep, but a shudder rocks Eagle’s whole body at the contact.
I grin at the power my touch has on him, then take the length of him in my hands. His dick is hard and the skin soft. Thick veins run up the length of him, and I find a tiny tender spot under the head of his cock that is just begging to be licked. I lower my head, and I press a kiss to his tip.
He groans and slides his tattooed hands through my hair, tightening his fingers. “I don’t wanna hurt you,” he says. “You tell me if this is no good.”
“Mmm,” I hum, sucking his length in deep. I don’t answer. It feels good. Everything about him feels hot and soft, hard and delicious. I wish I could see the rest of his body, the tattoos on his arms and the muscles I’ve gaped at for years, but we’ll have time. I hope we’ll have time.
Right now is just for him. Trying not to drench the front of his tux pants, I hold his shaft in one hand and suck him into my mouth. He works his fingers lightly through my hair, tugging and helping me set the right pace as I suck his dick. I swirl the tip of my tongue against the underside of his cock, feeling every tremble and gasp as I bring him to the edge.
“I wanna fuck you,” he whispers, his voice a rasp.
I reluctantly pull my mouth from him and grab a foil packet from the couch cushion. I tear it open, pull out the latex, and roll it over his length. He doesn’t move, doesn’t try to take off his pants, and I love it.
What I have in mind is filthy and seductive and blows every fantasy I’ve had about this man out of the water.
Still wearing my sleep shorts, I straddle his lap again and move the material of my shorts to one side so I can take him inside me.
“You might not be able to sell the tux after this,” I whisper.
He grunts a laugh, then says, “It might just become my new uniform if I know this happens when I wear it.”
I laugh, but the sound dies in my throat as I rub the tip of his cock against my clit. I’m wet and swollen and so hot for him.
I want to fuck him, but I want to feel him first. I hold his cock in one hand and work my hips back and forth against his shaft, moaning and sighing with every exquisite stroke against my clit. I close my eyes and feel Eagle cup my tits again, pinching my nipples between his fingers.
“No,” I whisper, “Oh God, I don’t want this to stop. I don’t wanna come.”
“Come for me, Lacey,” Eagle says. “I want to watch you come apart.”
My eyelids clamped shut, I shift my hips and settle my weight over Eagle’s cock, then slide down on him inch by ever-loving precious inch. I’m almost coming before he’s all the way inside me, but I clench my walls and sink down hard and fast.
“Fuck,” he groans, and he drops his head back against the couch.
I ride him hard, fast, and dirty, the fabric of my loose sleep shorts wet and sticky with sweat and arousal. When I finally come, it washes over me like a tidal wave. I feel the climax building, building, but then it’s happening. His hands are gripping my breasts, and the pleasure is so intense, I don’t ever want it to stop. I’m riding him, trying not to scream into the silence of the night.
I drop my mouth to his and moan. “More, more,” I demand. “Don’t stop fucking me.”
And it’s true. The waves of pleasure keep hitting me, like I’ve been dunked underwater and there is no way I’ll find the surface.
My legs start to burn from the effort of riding him, my nipples are tender and sore, but even though he is quiet, cursing and tugging on my hips like he might fuck his way right through my shorts, he doesn’t make anything more than a few desperate moans.
When he slows, I collapse onto his shoulder and just breathe. Breathe in the light scent of soap and expensive material. The breaths that we share as our chests rise and fall in time together.
After what seems like forever, locked together and unmoving, I lift my head. I meet his eyes, and his face looks guarded and spent. Like’s he’s tired but braced for bad news.
“Eagle,” I whisper, “do you think the pizza is cold?”
He barks a laugh, and everything about his body relaxes. “Don’t matter to me, babe,” he says. “You need fuel?”
I nod, reluctantly sliding off his lap. I carefully peel the condom from him, trying to keep the mess inside the latex. I adjust my shorts to cover myself and walk over to the table. There are no napkins or anything, so I hold up a finger to him and slip quietly inside the house.
When I get back to the sunroom, Eagle’s shirt is unbuttoned halfway, and his pants are zipped. He’s opened two beers and is drinking one.
“You want water?” I ask.
He shakes his head and hands me a beer. The can is cold enough, so I grab a slice of pizza and motion for him to do the same. He does, and then we sit side by side on the couch, the whir of the ceiling fan tossing the air over our cooling bodies.
“You can stay,” I tell him. “I mean, sleep here with me, if you want. I’ll wake you up in time to get back to the Lantana in the morning.”
“I am not going to the Lantana,” he says quietly. “I got a friend to cover my shift. Carla okayed it.”
I stop chewing and look up at him cautiously. “But why? Don’t you need the money? Why wouldn’t you go back there?”
Eagle takes a long pull on his beer before looking me in the eyes. “Let’s just say after what those assholes did to you, I wouldn’t exactly be the best guy to stop trouble if it started tomorrow. I might even be the one to start it if the wrong buttons got pushed.”
“What they did to me?” I ask softly.
This is not a conversation I want to have now. This is not a conversation I ever really want to have. I’m the one in the wrong in the situation, though. What did the Acostas do other than find out the truth at the worst possible time?
“I don’t know what happened, and I don’t care,” Eagle says quietly, wiping his mouth with a paper towel. “Those people are fake and they’re assholes. I’ll live without a half day’s pay.”
I look down at my pizza, the cheese a little thick now that it’s cool, but damn, it still tastes delicious. Too bad I don’t have much of an appetite now.
“I am so sorry.”
He reaches for my chin and presses his index finger against my lips. “I liked it better when you were talking about how fuckable I am in this tux.”
I nod, relieved in a way that he doesn’t want to know. Maybe he does, or will at some point, but right now, I want to feel good and enjoy whatever this moment is with Eagle. Because things are going to look very, very different in my life, come Monday. I’ll be explaining a lot of my story to a lot of people. I don’t really want to talk about it, and thankfully, Eagle doesn’t seem to need me to.
“What about your mom?” Eagle asks. “She gonna mind waking up on Sunday morning to a strange man in her house?”
I shake my head and point at my wrist. I’m not wearing a watch, but I should check the time. “She leaves at the crack of dawn for work. She manages PM bakery.”
Eagle’s quiet for a minute, then he says, “Best damn cinnamon raisin bread at PM. Your ma works there?”
I nod, a little proud that something about a basic grocery store job doesn’t seem basic to Eagle. I never even told Dylan the name of the store where my mom worked. He didn’t seem to have any interest at all. “I mean, that’s not her recipe, but…” I grin. “We have like three loaves in the freezer. I can make you toast for breakfast.”
He stands up from the cushion and grabs my hand. “Let’s get out of these clothes,” he says, lifting his brows at me. “Unless you really want me to sleep in the suit. For you, I’d consider it.”