29. Use Me, Bill Withers
"Use Me," Bill Withers
Cruz
She’d fallen asleep immediately, draped over me like a weighted blanket. Those copper strands spread over my chest like a living flame, her face soft and peaceful, so different from the harsh angles that she projected to the world. Even though my arm was numb, I laid completely still, mind spinning with the unexpected turn the night had taken.
She'd stood at the foyer window with cautious optimism. When her phone buzzed, her shoulders slumped when that asshole ghosted her. At the restaurant, her back went rigid when she realized he was married.
And she let the prick off the hook, which made my skin crawl. Especially since she’d been cheated on before—that she’d been fucking married . If she’d started dating Alex a decade ago, she was divorced by my age. How was that possible?
Her reaction had ignited a protective surge, showing him she wasn’t home crying big alligator tears over his lying ass.
During that first song, she fixated on my fingers on the frets, absentmindedly twirling the strands of hair I’d twisted, recrossing her legs. So I’d taken a gamble: publicly serenading a woman miles out of my league …
God, that would have been a nightmare if she'd shut me down.
But I’d ended up in her bed, waking up with her breasts pressed into my chest and her leg wrapped over mine. I dozed off and on as she snored into my neck, dead to the world. Even though I had to pee like a racehorse, I didn't move, wanting Victoria as close as possible.
This position kicked off many of those fantasies I told her last night—though I only shared the dirty parts. It felt safer to stick to sex than to share the parts that surprised me with their sweetness.
Ever since that morning I’d made her breakfast, I’d been dreaming about her moan of pleasure when her lips wrapped around a fork full of my food. Her arms around my neck dancing around her kitchen. Even her cat curled up on my chest headbutting me to demand chin rubs.
I dreamed those domestic scenes, her waking up in my arms before wrapping her hand around my cock, her eating my food then dropping to her knees …
But I couldn’t tell her those fantasies. Most times I didn’t acknowledge them to myself, knowing I’d never get them.
God, I had it bad for Victoria Blackstone.
I shouldn’t, though. This was just sex. I’d lucked into the rebound. I didn’t belong with her, just like I didn’t belong in this lavish apartment. Dreaming about domestic bliss was downright masochistic.
I found myself wishing, in a perverse way, that the sex had been awful. If she’d laid there bored then dismissed me with a limp farewell handshake, maybe I could get over this stupid crush and walk away unaffected, like so many times before.
But of course, she had to be fucking incredible in bed: willing, playful, and honest. So mind-blowing when she came, screaming my fucking name no less … and then, like it couldn’t get any better: She laughed.
I’d pushed her harder than I should have. She’d been ready to pass out after the second orgasm, but I hadn’t wanted to be done. Hell, even after we’d had sex, I had to stop myself from flipping her onto her knees and going again, knowing it might be my one chance. Sure, she’d suggested another night, but I didn’t know if she’d write this off as a one-time mistake. Or worse, maybe she’d wake up, realize how far she'd fallen in a moment of weakness, and kick me out.
And annoyingly, my idiotic crush was worse than ever.
Dawn was breaking out the window, light rain tapping on her window panes. Boot camp attendance would be down, but I’d run workouts in worse weather.
My phone rested on the nightstand—that nightstand I’d built wondering what she’d fill it with, expecting maybe a little rabbit or wand only to discover that she had a treasure trove of sex toys.
Usually I used my phone alarm to escape a woman’s bed with the excuse of teaching morning boot camp. That’s what I should do, for self-preservation: slide out from under her arm, kiss her forehead while she’s still groggy, and get out before she hit me with that withering stare. I mentally plotted where she’d stripped off my clothes to make a smooth break.
But I didn’t want to leave. For the first time in my life, I wanted a woman more in the morning than I did the night before.
I may have lucked into the rebound … but I would shoot my shot.
So I stretched for my phone before the alarm went off and logged onto social media to cancel class. When I shifted, she softly moaned, her lips against my neck sending a vibration to my already hard cock. She yawned, arching her tits into my ribs as she rubbed her forehead.
Here came the moment when her grey eyes would snap open filled with regret. When she’d deploy a weak excuse to get me out of her bed, just like she had the morning she’d woken up hungover. ‘You’ve done enough, you should go.’ Maybe it wasn’t too late to delete my class cancellation.
“Morning, Cobrecita,” I whispered.
Her eyes blinked open with curiosity, but none of the expected derision. “What time is it? Don’t you have class?”
Smooth move. She didn’t have to kick me out, just remind me to leave.
I tilted my chin towards her balcony. “Too rainy.”
Her gaze followed through the gauzy curtains to the overcast sky and wet concrete. “We need to get you a gym,” she murmured. “Can’t let bad weather impact your revenue.”
Even naked in bed, she strategized about income streams.
I braced for her dismissal: her expectations were fulfilled and I shouldn’t linger. Her grip around my torso tightened as she said bossily, “Pull up the covers, my arm is cold.”
Oh. That was unexpected.
Wrapping the blanket around her shoulders, she shifted her leg higher, grazing my erection. Her mouth lifted into a lazy smile. “So you don’t have to leave?”
I shook my head and brushed the hair off her face.
“Good, I promised you a shower.”
Oh.
Fuck.
Yes.
“You did,” I confirmed, trying not to sound too eager. “Do you want coffee first, or …”
“I was thinking …” her morning voice was a sexy rasp, her hand exploring my abs and working its way south. “You could dirty me up more fir—”
Then she was on her back, my knees parting her lush thighs and her ribs caged between my forearms. She laughed at my enthusiasm, a throaty roar I never wanted to stop hearing. Fuck, I loved her laugh.
This was dangerous. This was just sex. I shouldn’t love anything about her.
But goddamn, that laugh. So hard to win, so satisfying to earn.
Tilting her head gave my lips perfect access to the long column of her neck, so I started there and worked my way down to the crease of her shoulders, along her collarbone, and settled in to worship her tits.
She pushed my hair out of my face. “Hair tie?”
I held up my wrist and she pulled off the elastic, finger combing it into a loose bun and muttering about a man with better hair than her. Between licks of her nipples, I asked, “You really don’t have to go?”
“Nowhere to be all day."
“Good, I need a new contract. A rental agreement to live here for the next few hours,” I said, scraping my teeth against her rosy nipple. She inhaled sharply.
I kissed down her sternum and over the curves of her stomach, her hand guiding me lower with gentle nudges. I resisted her subtle ministrations, wanting to get her to tell me what she wanted. God, it was hot when she took control. From the moment I’d laid eyes on her, all sexy librarian chic, I’d wanted her to boss me around.
And last night when she loosened up enough to tease. God, I loved that attitude. I loved fucking that brattiness right out of her, until that smart mouth couldn’t form words.
My mouth finally landed between her legs, passing right over her clit to kiss the inside of her thighs. She groaned in frustration. “You missed.”
“I’m taking the scenic route,” I said, squeezing her ass cheeks as I licked the crease of her thigh.
“Eric,” she moaned in frustration. “Would you stop messing around?”
“Oh, is this making a mess?” I swept the flat of my tongue between her folds. Her hips jerked in surprise, then I backed off, nibbing again on her leg. “Cleaned that up for you, baby.”
“Eric,” she said, her voice stern, “I’m not kidding.”
“Tell me what you want,” I murmured against her pussy. Fuck, she smelled incredible.
“You know what I want,” she said, threading her fingers in my hair, messing up my bun.
“Yeah, I do,” I breathed, tugging on her pussy lips until she trembled, then retreating. "And you know how to get it."
“You’re infuriating."
“You want me to eat you out?” I asked. I covered her hand on my head, shoving myself into place, tonguing her clit and sucking hard until she bucked .. then released her hand and looked up at her. Her eyes gleaned with annoyance, arousal … defiance. “Make me.”
Her grip on my hair tightened, holding my mouth against her. I eagerly lapped at her folds, lifting her ass to line up my tongue, pressing inside her tight pussy. As I licked and sucked, her thighs quivered.
She tugged my bun to drag my mouth up to her clit. I latched on and slid a finger inside. With a cry, she released my hair to grip the pillow. I regrettably slowed my pace and pulled away.
I was training her well, though, because her hand returned to my head, forcing me back into place. I flicked her clit, adding a second finger as she writhed and jerked, crying out between panting breaths. She bucked and thrashed, her cries echoing, her eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy as her pussy pulsed around my fingers.
As she relaxed, I admired her curvy body stretched out on the pristine sheets. Last night, she’d looked gorgeous by the warm glow of her lamp, but nothing compared to the daylight streaming in through the curtains. I appreciated the soft rolls of her stomach, the mounds of her tits, the flush up her neck … and the annoyed expression on her face.
Her hand shoved my temple. “Do you always have to be so difficult?”
I crawled back up, letting my cock rub against her. “Difficult, or just hard?”
She rolled her eyes as her hand slid between our bodies to grasp my cock. “How would you like it if I tortured you like that?”
“I’d love it,” I breathed before I could stop myself.
Her lips parted with arousal, and her fist tightened.
“Fuck yeah,” I said, pumping my cock into her hand, working myself up for her. “Boss me around, baby. You want me to fuck you? Get a condom, take what you want. Use me up.”
I expected her to tease and edge like I’d done to her … but she reached for a condom, tore the foil wrapper, and unrolled it onto my cock. I pumped lube into my hand, coating the condom and sliding the rest into her tight pussy, which pulsed around my fingers.
“Say it,” I begged.
“Fuck me,” she begged back.
I slid in slowly, watching the space between us dwindle as every inch of me disappeared into her. Her eyelids shut, like she expected sex to happen to her.
Oh hell no, not on my watch.
“Victoria,” I said, her eyes flickering open. “Look how well you’re taking me.”
Her brows furrowed before she lifted up on her elbows to look where our bodies joined. I paused, using my thumbs to open her folds wider for a better view as I slid out, and she gasped as I pressed back in.
I couldn’t get enough of the surprise she couldn’t conceal. I couldn’t believe that she’d been fucking married and didn’t believe how hard she could come. If I ever got married—and that was a long shot—I’d make sure my wife was the most satisfied woman on the planet.
I shut down the anger at that asshole, latching onto the primal drive to be the best she’d ever had. I thrust into her, tilting her hips until her eyes flew open with a harsh gasp. Her surprise transformed into moans as she dug her hands into the blankets, lifting her hips to meet me with every thrust. Her mouth dropped open to let out breathy whimpers, moans and shouts, escalating in pitch.
“That’s right, baby,” I coached, lifting her leg higher, opening her wider, thrusting deeper. “Now open those gorgeous lips and let me hear you come.”
“Please,” she panted, and goddamn if I didn’t love that.
“That’s right, beg, then say my name.”
“Eric, please,” she said, raw with need.
My teeth gritted. “Not that name.”
I shifted my weight to press two fingers onto her clit, and she screamed, “Oh, god, Cruz!”
As her pussy clenched, I fought every urge to spill. My ass cheeks tensed, my jaw ached … and still I thrust, watching her come while holding myself back.
I slowed my pace as her eyes blinked open. Her hands rose to my biceps, gently stroking my tattoos. Her guarded expression told me that she wanted more but didn’t want to ask.
“Okay, baby,” I said, not hiding the tension in my voice. “You’ve got three options.”
Her eyes lit up—maybe at the choice, maybe at my restraint. I moved slowly, speaking through my tight jaw.
“One, roll on your hands and knees, I’ll fuck you deeper, make you come again.”
Her breath hitched and she licked her bottom lip. Fuck, that lip might be the death of me.
“Option two?” she said, her fingernail tracing the tattoo that ran up my trapezius.
“Tell me to stop,” I said through gritted teeth. I’d edged her first so it was fair play, and she’d enjoy being in control and denying me for as long as she wanted. And when she finally let me come …
Her hips rolled as her fingernail scraped my beard. “Option three?”
“I don’t come until you tell me to,” I breathed.
I didn’t play this game often. The drawback of one night is that you didn’t develop enough trust to share your latent desires. Most of the women I slept with had no idea I could be submissive. They wanted me to make them come, so I did.
But from the moment I laid eyes on Victoria, I knew what I wanted from her. The way she carried herself—the angle of her jaw, the casual command in her eyes—made me think she wanted what I did. People can fake confidence, but not dominance.
She weighed her options, her calculating gaze making me sweat.
“Countdown from five,” she murmured, bringing her lips to my pec, scraping her teeth over my nipple. “Faster.”
I swore under my breath as I sped up. Her self-satisfied laugh warmed my chest as she laid soft kisses along my collarbone.
“Four,” she murmured as she scratched her fingernails down my spine to my ass. “Harder, Cruz.”
Her breathing sped up to match mine as her hands squeezed my ass cheeks to set my pace, taking full control of my body. Control I eagerly relinquished.
“Three.”
“Shit, shit, shit,” I muttered, pumping harder against her quivering legs. She was trying to remain stoic, but her hot panting breath on my neck gave her away.
“Two,” she whispered, leaning up to scrape her teeth over my earlobe.
I groaned, tightening every muscle to hold back.
“One and a half,” she whispered. When I cursed her name, she let out a ruthless laugh.
She wrapped her arms around my neck, pulling me into a searing kiss before saying against my mouth, “Come, Cruz.”
And I exploded into her. She wrapped her legs around my ass, drawing me deeper as I pulsed within her, hearing the echoes of her cries.
It took all my remaining strength to keep my arms strong and not collapse, feeling drained, feeling relaxed, feeling …
“Fuck, you’re heavy,” she joked, pretending to shove me off. I pulled out and rolled onto my back beside her, tied off the condom, slid a hand under her neck, and curled her into me. She pulled the blanket over us, settled into my chest, and we went back to sleep.