Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
AJ
“ N o,” he says, his voice hard as he grinds the words out between clenched teeth. “It’s not.”
I hate the way my cheeks turn pink as I watch us in the mirror, so I turn my head away as I explain, “Lots of women can’t have an internal orgasm.”
His hand slides from my hip up my abdomen and between my breasts, his forearm grazing my nipple, before he settles with his hand around my throat. I like the possessive feel of his hand there—hell, the feel of his hands everywhere —maybe more than I should.
With his palm still cupping my throat, he uses two fingers on my jaw to turn my head so I’m facing the mirror again.
“Just because you can’t have an internal orgasm doesn’t mean you can’t orgasm during sex,” he says. I know my face conveys my confusion because he shakes his head and adds, “My god, has no one ever taken care of you?”
There’s a lot of emotion in his words, and I wish I was better at reading him. I can’t tell if he’s mad at that idea, or sad about it. My mind runs through all the ways he’s taken care of me in the past few days—physically, emotionally, and sexually. Before him, though...not so much.
He presses a kiss to my temple. “You’re going to come on my cock, and it’s not going to be a one-time thing. Do you trust me?”
In the quiet bathroom, my gulp is audible, and I watch myself give him a single nod. I don’t know why I trust him, when all the men in my life disappoint me.
That’s not true, I remind myself, instead focusing on the positive relationships I have with men who don’t suck: Nicholas, Jameson, Frank. There are plenty of guys on the team who are good, standup men too. Don’t let your father and Chet destroy your trust in half the species.
McCabe said he was going to ruin me for all other men, and after that earth-shattering orgasm he just gave me, I believe him. Clearly, he’s a man of his word. If he makes me come again, during sex, he truly will have achieved his goal, because no one else has ever done that for me.
But since I can’t be with him in any other way than these stolen moments, ruining me for anyone else feels like maybe I’m inviting a lifetime of sexual frustration?
“What’s going through your mind right now?” he asks, and that’s when I realize that even though I gave him the go ahead, he hasn’t moved. He’s still got one hand wrapped around my throat possessively and his lips pressed to my temple.
In the mirror, I watch the way my chest heaves, certain he can feel the thumping of my heart beneath his forearm where it’s pressed against my breast.
“Nothing,” I whisper.
“Don’t fucking lie to me, Alessandra. Not when you’re standing here naked, wrapped in my arms. If you’ve got any doubts about us having sex, we’ll wait.”
I’m shaking my head before he’s even finished. “It’s not that.”
His other hand comes from my hip to toy with the ends of my hair, the backs of his fingers moving against my breast where it lays. “What is it, then?”
How do I tell him that I’m afraid sex with him will be too good? That instead of getting it out of my system so I can stop thinking about him, it’ll make me crave him even more?
“When you said you were going to ruin me for all other men, forever? I’m afraid you might not have been exaggerating.”
His chest shakes against my shoulders with a low rumble of laughter. The timbre of his voice is a soft caress when he says, “I wasn’t exaggerating. Why? Do you plan to sleep with other men after me?”
My gaze locks on his in the mirror, breath catching as I take in the vulnerability in his eyes. “How could this ever work between us?”
Without breaking eye contact, he presses another kiss to my temple. “How could it not?”
It’s a crazy thing to say.
Isn’t it?
Because there’s no way this can work, and we both know why. But at this moment, I’m having trouble recalling all the reasons. They feel like a problem for future me to deal with, because the way his hard cock is pressing into my back and his hot breath is warming my skin, the way he’s cradled my entire body in his embrace—the only thing I feel...is safe.
This is a man who will take care of me. And after a recent injury and a lifetime of mediocre sex, I could use a man who knows how to make me feel good.
My hips arch back into his as longing ripples through my core, and I take his hand that’s toying with my hair and move it to the apex of my thighs. And when the pad of his finger ghosts over my clit, still swollen and sensitive from my last orgasm, my entire body shudders.
“Taking care of your needs feels like the bare fucking minimum, Alessandra. And if doing that ruins you, then prepare to be spoiled senseless.”
I want to ask him what he means, because this is just sex. But the way he’s dipping his finger inside me and using my cum as lubricant to slide his finger over my clit has my good hand flying to his forearm, grasping it as I press my head back into his chest and look up at him with wide eyes. How am I already turned on again this quickly?
He presses his lips to mine in a firm kiss, and then asks, “Do you want me to use a condom?”
He knows I can’t get pregnant—something no guy I’ve slept with after my ex-husband needed to know, because I never let a relationship get serious enough that I’d share that information.
“Are you positive you’re safe?”
“Yeah,” he grits out as he flexes his hips forward, his cock sliding along my lower back. “But if you’d prefer, we can use one. I’ve never not.”
My eyes search his. How is that possible? “But . . . Abby?”
He shrugs his shoulders. “Sometimes condoms break. And I’ve been tested, just in case. But again, we can use one if you’re more comfortable.”
His finger is still gliding over my clit, slowly working me up, and I press my teeth into my lower lip as I try to think clearly.
“Goddamn, you’re so sexy when you bite your lip like that. You do it all the time, and it drives me fucking insane.”
Letting go of his forearm, I slide my hand between us and grip him firmly, enjoying the grunt of pleasure he lets out as I move my hand up and over the fat head of his cock. I’m honestly not sure how this thing is going to fit inside me, but I’m looking forward to finding out.
He slips two fingers inside me and says, “Or we can do it this way. I’m pretty sure I’m going to last about two seconds anyway. I’ve got a fucking decade of pent-up sexual frustration when it comes to you, and you’ve already got me so turned on I’m about to explode.”
“I want to feel you inside me.” I give him a sassy little wink as I add, “I think you promised to make me come on your cock?”
“Put your hands on the mirror.” It’s a demand, not a request.
I lick my lips as I lean forward, putting my good hand against the mirror and resting my splinted hand on top of it. And then I look over my shoulder at him and say, “Don’t make me wait.”
He presses harder against my clit, and a strangled moan escapes from the back of my throat as I watch him spread his legs to line himself up with my entrance. “Tell me if I’m hurting you.”
I’m so worked up I can only nod in response. And when he notches his cock at my entrance, sliding in slowly, I straighten my good arm and push myself back onto him, gasping as he stretches me. I’m so fucking full; every inch of space is filled with him until I feel like I can’t breathe.
“You’re doing so well. We’re almost there.”
Almost? What the hell is this man talking about? There is no room for any more of him.
He bends forward, trailing kisses along my shoulder. “C’mon, you can take all of me. Just relax.”
“I. Am. Relaxed,” I grit out between clenched teeth.
“Listen, Sunshine,” he says, pulling out slightly and then sliding right back in. The sensation of his length gliding along my inner walls eases some of the pain from being stretched so full. “I wanted to take this slow. You’re the one who decided to impale yourself on my cock.” He plants one hand next to mine on the mirror, and wraps his other around my hips, anchoring me to him. “So why don’t you let me take over here?”
My eyes widen at his domineering tone, as I meet his lust-filled gaze in the mirror. “Don’t be condescending when you’re inside me.”
He tilts his chin down, his lips resting right against my ear so his words are like a low growl flowing into me. “I get that you like having control, that you’re used to being in charge.” He pulls out and slides back into me again, and my eyelids flutter shut for a moment as my lips part, because the feeling is just too good. “But for once, I need you to let me be in charge. I promise, I will take very good care of you.”
My whole body relaxes, like it realizes it can trust him. And now that my shoulders aren’t so tense, it allows my back to arch more and my hips to loosen.
“Such a good girl,” he says, straightening up and using his hand to trace patterns around the bruises on my back. His touch is feather light, so instead of causing me pain, it makes me shiver.
And then he’s slowly moving inside me, setting a pace that only makes me want more. The drag of his skin against mine, the crude sound of our bodies slapping together, his soft grunts and my quiet moans—it’s the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever experienced.
“Look at you,” he murmurs, staring down at where our bodies meet. “Taking me so well, just like I knew you would.”
I rock myself back onto him, trying to increase the pace because he has me feeling like I can’t get enough of him. I can’t get enough of him being inside me, but I also can’t get enough of the way he’s looking at me—it’s hunger and adoration combined. He’s worshiping my body as he moves his hand from my hip back down to my clit, gently pressing as he moves his finger over it again and again. It’s then I realize that he’ll do whatever it takes to make me feel good.
And that realization is the thing that allows me to finally let go. To give up any control I’m clinging to, to bring down any barriers I’ve put up, to fully enjoy the moment without worrying about what it means or what comes next.
“That’s right,” he praises, his teeth clenched and the words barely audible over my moans of pleasure. I watch my breasts bouncing as I sink back onto him, his one hand focused on my clit as he brings the other to the base of my neck, squeezing just enough to give me a thrill.
I’m panting and needy, letting out more sounds I don’t recognize each time he bottoms out in me, letting the sensations roll through my body as he fucks me in a way I didn’t know was possible—in a way that’s all about my pleasure.
There’s an ache building inside me, an electric feeling I’ve never experienced before. And as if he knows exactly what I need in order to turn that current up all the way, he brings his hand from my neck to my breast, rolling my nipple between his fingers. Sparks shoot through me, like lightning in my veins, until I’m practically screaming.
He reaches over and slams the bathroom door shut right before I tip over the edge, moaning out his name and god’s name, plus several expletives, interchangeably, as he buries himself deep inside me. With the sexiest groan I’ve ever heard, I feel his release shooting against my inner walls as he comes, because there’s no room for it inside me. And as he pulls out and presses back in one more time, his cum runs down my leg.
It’s the most erotic and dirty thing that’s ever happened to me, and I know without a doubt that I need this again. I had no idea sex could be like this, and I need more of this—more of him—in my life.
His upper body falls forward, his hand bracing him above me as he kisses the crown of my head before whispering reverently, “You’re fucking spectacular, you know that?”
“That felt spectacular,” I murmur, closing my eyes because I’m absolutely spent.
He gathers my hair in his hand and presses a kiss on the back of my neck. “You didn’t do what you were told, though.”
“Oh yeah?” I ask, in a daze.
“Yeah. I told you to watch, so you could see how you look when you come. But you closed your eyes when you got there.”
“I couldn’t help it.” I’m still unable to open my eyes or lift my head. “I was...overcome.”
“Next time,” he says, leaving more sweet kisses on my skin, “I want you to watch.”
“Next time, huh?” My words are teasing, but we both know there will be a next time. How could there not be when it feels that good?