7. Rae
7
RAE
I ’m over the games.
Harrison King might get any woman he wants, but he’s not getting me.
I shouldn’t have opened the door enough to give him a chance, but I wanted to talk about the gig. And maybe to see him. But he behaved like an utter prick, crashing my dinner with Beck like a jealous boyfriend, then acting as though I’d fucked up.
Just because he helped one of the waitstaff when he thought I couldn’t hear doesn’t mean he’s not the devil.
I’m nearly at the front doors of the hotel when someone grabs me and tugs me behind a huge potted plant. My shoulder hits the wall. “What the fuck?”
Then he’s pinning me in place with his fierce expression, filled with anger and desperation.
“You want me to stop?” he demands, his voice dripping with incredulity. “You came into my club, my house, my island, and turned them upside down.” Harrison angles his body to box mine in, and his fingers find the nape of my neck, squeezing hard enough it steals my breath. “You fucked me like you needed it, and the next morning, you were gone. So at least be honest about your reasons. It wasn’t because of some paparazzi shot. It was because you didn’t believe in me enough to stay.”
He’s breathing as if he’s been running. His corded throat is bobbing, that firm mouth parted, those piercing blue eyes full of shock and desire.
The accusation in his tone doesn’t affect me, but the hurt beneath does. The rawness of his words is a reminder he was left before by a woman he trusted. I didn’t leave him for another man, but his betrayed expression makes it seem as if I might as well have.
I lift my chin to meet his gaze. “What did we have? What could we have had, Harrison?” I swallow hard. “You were this arrogant, untouchable god, and I was this angry girl who wanted no part of your world. At least… I didn’t at first.”
His nostrils flare as he searches my face.
I’m playing a dangerous game, showing vulnerability to a man who crushes his, who succeeds by exploiting weakness in others. Except the throbbing low in my gut wants to believe he’s not unaffected either.
“If I look like a god right now, you need reading glasses more than I do.”
His self-deprecating comment makes me suck in a breath.
My attention drifts down to his open collar, the rolled-up sleeves revealing muscled forearms. I pop his collar, trailing a finger along the edge. “You’re missing your suit.”
He’s a warrior without his armor, and I’m aching to know what convinced him to lay it down tonight.
Before I can ask, his mouth crashes down on mine.
His tongue presses at the seam of my lips, demanding entrance. I grant it to him, my body responding before my brain gives permission.
He tastes like whisky and man and I’m drowning in him.
My palms flatten against his chest to steady myself.
The rational part of me screams to get away.
Instead, I press up on my toes to kiss him back.
His arms band around me like steel.
“Too public.” His muttered words cut through my haze of arousal.
Harrison doesn’t take my hand but steers me across the foyer and toward a private elevator using only the force of his presence.
We step inside, and the doors shut.
His gaze is loaded with hunger, and I revel in it before he drags me up to him. Those wicked lips land on mine before sliding lower to my jaw, my neck, tracing down to my cleavage. I fist a hand in his shirt.
“Fuck.” My fingers tighten in his hair as his mouth moves to cover my breast through the fabric, licking its hardened peak.
He’s a storm intent on killing me and making me grateful for the mercy.
The elevator dings, and he guides me out, a firm hand on my back as we step into the huge living room of a suite.
“You never do anything halfway, do you?” I pant.
“What I want, I get.” Harrison pulls back to study me, his eyes nearly black with desire. “I want you to repeat every smartass thing you’ve ever said to me while you’re laying over my knee. I want to ride you bare before your show. To come inside you and watch you go out and play in front of a thousand people and know I’m still there. Where they all want to be. I want to tie you to my bed and make you come until you’re begging me to stop.”
His words seduce me. “Too many orgasms doesn’t sound like a thing.”
“Sweet, na?ve girl.”
He grips my face, his expression turning serious as he stops either of us from taking things further.
“There was one thing I wanted in my life. But since you crashed into it, I want you. Seeing you with Beck makes me crazy.”
Thrilling . It’s thrilling to hear him talk like this.
“How crazy?”
My lips curve, because what’s crazy is the fact that this billionaire wants me, a girl with no permanent address and a closet full of damage. Harrison’s shoulders pull tight under the shirt. He’s gorgeous and a little reckless, his hair sticking up as if he’s been running his fingers through it.
“Crazy enough I only wore a damn shirt to dinner.”
I slide a hand under the edge of that shirt and rest my palm over the scars on his chest. My thumb traces the edge, and I get off on the way his pulse skips beneath my touch. “It’s a good shirt,” I whisper.
Riding a wave of arousal, I reach back for the knot on my dress and unfasten it. It falls to the floor.
Harrison’s gaze roams my body, from my bare legs to the curve of my hips to my simple, nude lace bra, before landing on my face. “Beautiful. Everywhere.”
My skin hums at his praise.
He inches closer, threads his fingers into my hair. “Feel how hard you make me.” He takes my hand from his chest and places it over the bulge in his pants. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted you.”
“Pshh. The tiniest fraction of your life,” I breathe. “You are ten years older.”
“Means I know how to make you mine.”
My hand wraps around his length through his pants. His grin fades, his gaze flaring with heat.
I unfasten his shirt one button at a time, pushing it off his shoulders. He tosses it to the floor without looking.
What’s between us might not end well, but I’ve never felt the rush I feel around him—outside of the booth.
I’m willing to take this chance…
As long as he’ll let me drive.
I sink to my knees and take him out of his dress pants. He’s huge and hard, and I’ve never salivated for a dick before, but apparently there’s a first time for everything.
“I prefer it when?—”
“I know how to give a blow job,” I retort, earning myself a chastising look.
“I’ll enjoy it more if you do it the way I like.”
I flip him off, for old times’ sake. He grabs my hand and sucks my middle finger into his mouth.
A jolt of pleasure grips my spine as heat wraps around me, settling into a dull ache of pleasure between my thighs.
“Is that a request?” I manage, but his wicked tongue is messing with my head.
“I prefer those hands engaged in more productive pursuits,” he rasps when he releases me.
For once, I’m not arguing.
I turn my attention back to his hard cock. I wrap my fingers around him, using the wetness from his mouth to slide up and down.
His exhale is half-groan and entirely sexy.
I take him in one long ambitious stroke until he hits the back of my throat.
“Fuck, Raegan. Your dirty mouth is so fucking sweet.”
He wants to take control. His hand fists in my hair, pushing me down, and I shove him away. Eventually his touch comes back, cupping my face, fingers threading into my hair, thumb brushing my hollowed cheek as I suck him.
Having this kind of power is like the feeling of playing to a huge crowd, only this is better.
“You’re preening,” he rasps when I pull off him to catch my breath.
“I deserve it.”
He drags me to the carpet.
He’s filthy rich, but right now, he’s just filthy.
His hands stroke down my body as if he’s memorizing every inch before his mouth comes back to claim mine. It’s brutal, punishing me for every day we’ve been apart.
His grip finds my throat, and a ribbon of fear snakes through me. But it’s overtaken by pleasure as he works a finger inside me. I can’t do anything but arch my back and take him deeper.
“So wet.”
It’s a curse and praise at once.
He drags his cock over my mound, a cruel tease.
I feel as if I’ve never had him inside me. But before he can make good on his implied promise, he parts my legs and shifts down my body.
“First, you’ll beg.”
That dirty mouth settles between my legs. If you can call it settling, because he’s restless, his tongue and lips moving together to drive me wild with need.
A slow, leisurely lick.
A hard suck.
A rhythm more compelling and brutal than anything I’ve ever laid down on a track.
My fingers grasp at the carpet, his hair, whatever I can find. “Oh shit.”
I could tell him how I usually get myself off, but I can’t even think. There’s no way to tell him what to change because I wouldn’t know how to ask for this if I tried.
He plays my body as though he was born to. Not because the first time he touches me is perfect, but because he takes every shiver of my body, every hitch of my breath, every incoherent murmur from my lips, and uses it against me.
The man is a fucking doomsday machine set out to destroy me, to teach my body to ruin itself.
“Tell me you missed me.” His lips vibrate against my skin.
“Your smug elitist mouth? Not likely.”
His fingers twist inside me and I gasp, yanking on his hair. He holds me in place.
“My smug elitist mouth is going to make you scream.”
When I come, it’s a record-setting explosion, even for LA. The aftershocks rack me for seconds, minutes, hard enough my toes ache.
He appears over me, hair mussed, and suddenly he looks ten years younger by virtue of the cocky expression.
I manage to prop myself up on my elbows. “That all you’ve got?”
His low chuckle is sexy as hell. “On the contrary. Just getting started.”
He grabs something from his pants pocket, then graces me with those intense blue eyes while he rolls on the condom.
How I ever thought those eyes were cold I don’t know. They’re white-hot.
He positions himself at my slit, the head of him bumping where I’m wet and making me ache. He sinks into me, an impossibly thick inch at a time.
So full.
I’m full of him, everywhere. My body, my head, my senses. There’s no denying it.
Every instinct to struggle against the invasion ends with my fingers clenching, my body clenching, as he slides deeper.
When his cock hits resistance, I gasp in relief.
The last time we did this, we were swept up by the emotion of the night and needing escape and comfort.
This is intentional.
I told him we had no contract now, but it’s not true. We signed on an implicit line tonight, possibly from the moment he sat down at that table.
A promise we’d play this out tonight with clear eyes and clear heads. And this time, neither of us is running.
His groan ends on a hiss, and I realize he’s struggling with control as much as I am.
“Feel how deep I am,” he rasps in my ear. “Memorize it. Every second I’m not inside you, you’ll wish I was.”
Those words send blood pounding through my veins.
“I’m going to cover every damn inch of this body before we’re through. But first…” The flash of cockiness in his eyes is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. “You’ll come for me.”
I wrap my legs around his hips, squeezing hard enough to make me gasp and his jaw tighten.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” I pant. “I understand endurance is harder at your age?—”
“Just for that, you’ll count. Every fucking stroke.” He shoves me back, his chest brushing mine so there’s no question I’m staying down.
I’d laugh if I wasn’t so caught up. I count the first stroke in my head, almost losing track at the firm thrust of him stretching me, the sight of him, a powerful and determined flex of muscle and man over me.
The next second, my butt is on fire, and I yelp. “The fuck?”
His eyes flash with satisfaction. “Count. Out loud.”
“Two,” I pant, my voice wavering at the edges. The angle is different this time, hitting me where I’m aching, and the knowing look on his face says he knows.
Still, there’s no way I’ll…
“Fuck… three…”
My back arches up off the carpet, unbidden.
Harrison’s lazy mouth is in direct contrast with the rest of him, descending to leave a trail of heat up my throat.
Unreal.
“Five…”
More, overtaking me.
I’m at twelve when he presses on my clit and I clench around him.
“That’s cheating,” I mumble as the orgasm crashes through me.
He moves through my climax, harder and faster and relentless. Until his body stills inside me and his muscles seize.
The heavy exhale is torn from deep inside him, his shoulders flexing and eyes squeezing shut.
It’s a thing of beauty, watching this tightly laced man fall apart. I can’t help tightening around him as he spills himself inside me.
When Harrison collapses over me, he’s still in me.
“No fucking clue why people would want to come at the same time.” His dry accent is so close to my ear he might be in my head. “I prefer to watch you.”
When his head lifts, he’s grinning. My heart skips. He’s breathtaking like this. Happy and gorgeous and relaxed, and it reminds me of the strange closeness I felt while we were in Ibiza.
An alarm goes off, and I lift my head in confusion.
My phone.
“I have a show,” I state.
“You have a show,” he agrees.
When he says it, the meaning sinks in. “Fuck, Harrison, I have a show.”
I shift out from under him, shoving both hands through my hair. I start to stand, but there’s a hand in my face.
He’s already up, helping me.
My phone buzzes, and I find it lying on the floor next to my clothes.
Beck: Heads up that I have a girl staying over tonight. In case you two run into each other naked in the kitchen.
I’m barely done reading when I notice Harrison reading over my shoulder.
“You never slept with him.”
“Is privacy dead?” I complain, lowering the phone to my side.
But he stares me down.
“Beck’s really into this girl,” I admit as I grab my dress and tug it on.
“Stay over. Come back after your show.”
That feels like too much of him—a dangerous amount.
“No.”
“You’re punishing me for leaving you that night.”
Surprise has me jerking toward him. He’s only wearing black boxer briefs, his gorgeous body moving easily as he slips on his shirt and fastens the handful of buttons from the bottom.
“You were with me long enough to make me come,” I say.
Where is my damn underwear?
Harrison holds up my panties, and I cross to grab them out of his hand.
He holds on. “Just not long enough to make you stay.”
I pull harder, and this time, he lets go.