Chapter 9 #3
“No, no, nooo!” I shriek as my entire body bears down and ruptures in a riot of tremulous, painful relief.
My inner thighs quake as my leg begins to give out.
Gareth pulls back to catch me in his arms as I crumple to the floor.
He lays me down on the plush carpeted floor and thrusts two of his fingers into me, massaging my still-spasming centre while worshipfully kissing my hip bones.
I don’t think I can take any more. My body seems to be trying to push him out, but my hips continue to greedily pump against his meaty fingers.
The wet noises in the quiet closet are so sensual, I begin climbing the hill again.
Another orgasm jumping on top of the last.
“Holy shit!” I cry when he hooks his finger into my G-spot.
“Gareth!” I scream and grab the hair on his head, pulling it hard in a crazed, sexual moment of unrestraint.
“Fuuuck!” My voice is lost to a hoarse, garbled cry as I squeeze my thighs together and climax again, fisting his silky strands in my fingers like they are a life rope keeping me from being sucked into the sea.
This orgasm is more than mind-blowing. It’s unbelievable. It’s unbelievable that a man can wreck me like a crashing ship by using only his mouth and fingers.
I lose complete track of time as I lie on the lush carpet in Gareth’s see-through closet.
I’m spent, I’m satiated, and I’m trying to work out in my head if the orgasm is because of Gareth or because of the control I had over him the moments leading up to it.
Whatever it was, I want more. A lot more.
I’m not sure how I’m ever going to want it to stop.
Suddenly, the heat of Gareth moves away from my body.
I sit up to see him sitting back on his haunches.
He’s shirtless and panting, his face glistening with what I can only assume is me.
But it’s not just the dirty, hot look of him that brings me up short.
It’s the astonishment on his face that makes me feel uneasy.
I pull my knees to my chest. “What is it?” I ask, shoving strands of hair away from my face. “What’s wrong? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“My mind is fucking shattered,” he croaks and exhales heavily, his abs even more defined as his body contracts. I look down at his erection swelling through his jeans. It looks painful. “I could have come just watching you.”
Wait, what? “Are you serious?”
“Completely.” He laughs and runs a hand through his tousled hair. His slumped posture is unnerving. “Sloan, I’ve never been so turned on with a woman in my entire life.”
“Okaaay,” I reply slowly, not sure what he’s getting at here.
“I’m telling you this because it’s a good thing. I’ve struggled to connect with women sexually for a long time. No one has turned me on like you…No one.”
I can’t help it. I laugh. I laugh really freaking hard. How little old me—Sloan Montgomery from Chicago who’s had a small handful of sexual partners her entire life—can have sexual control over Manchester’s star soccer player is beyond any comprehension.
“It’s not that funny.” The irritated expression on Gareth’s face has me pulling in my lips to stifle my amusement.
“I’m sorry,” I concede, shimmying toward him in my ridiculous lingerie. “I can’t help but laugh because this whole situation is crazy.”
“Crazy stupid or crazy incredible?”
“Incredible!” I reply, pressing my hands flat on the floor and leaning toward him.
“Gareth, I just orgasmed twice and have yet to have sex with you. Not to mention you are an athlete who’s quite possibly England’s sexiest man alive and you just let me control you for my pleasure.
Do you have any idea how I feel right now? ”
“No…Tell me.” His eyes are wide and waiting. Maybe even a little fearful.
“I feel like I’m on top of the world! I feel like I can move mountains. Like I can do anything! I feel like I can start creating my own designs again. Hell, I want to start a charity. I want to cure cancer. I want to fucking live!”
“What were you doing before?” he asks.
“Existing.” I exhale heavily and blink away the tears threatening behind my lids. “I’ll never forget this night.”
Gareth eyes me thoughtfully, his stormy hazel eyes looking pensive and confused. Without explanation, he rises to his feet and runs his hands through his hair several times, his mind clearly in another place.
“Where are you going?” I ask as he heads toward the door of the closet.
“To get some water.” He pauses and grips the doorframe, the veins running down his arms tense and protruding. Without making eye contact, he replies, “I’ll grab you some, too.”
Frowning at his weird change of demeanour, I watch his shirtless form retreat. What the hell just happened?
I press my forehead against the cool stainless steel of the refrigerator as I fill a glass of ice water for Sloan. My cock feels like a titanium rod in my jeans and my walk down the stairs didn’t do anything to calm my nerves.
What’s the matter with me that I left a mostly naked woman like Sloan in my closet?
Fuck me.
We’ve seen each other countless times. I know how beautiful she is.
I know what her body feels like under my fingers.
But this time, she was a different person.
She was strong. Confident. Happy. She wasn’t letting someone else think for her as she stood before me looking like a damned queen ready to take what she wants from her country.
Now my dick really hurts. It feels like all the blood in my body is rushing to the appendage between my legs.
All I want is to sink myself so deep inside of her, we lose ourselves for the next hour.
But I can’t lose myself. If this arrangement gets too deep, too fast, I’m afraid of what it could mean.
I feel too connected to her, too in sync.
Even her bloody scent is haunting me in a way I can’t fathom.
I need some time to breathe. To step away and get ahold of myself.
She gets control of my body. She gets control of my mind.
But my heart and soul are mine. I refuse to turn into my father and give myself to a woman entirely at the cost of everything that’s important to me.
That is exactly why I have to send Sloan home before we have sex tonight.
It will probably kill me. In fact, I’m sure of it.
But I need to ensure that we are both in the right frame of mind before we continue so this remains casual.
I slowly make my way up the stairs, ice clinking in the glass with every step I take. It feels like I’m walking to my death. I have to do this carefully, or I could scare her away altogether. The last thing I want to do is freak her out and make her feel like what she did tonight was wrong.
Entering my room, I see Sloan is still in my closet, rummaging through my clothes.
She pulls down a grey T-shirt and puts it on over her head, threading her narrow arms through the sleeves.
The hem reaches mid-thigh. I didn’t think it was possible for her to look sexier in more clothes, but I guess I was wrong.
She pads out of the closet and finds me watching her from the doorway.
Her smile is rueful as she fists her coat in front of her.
“I didn’t really think about the fact that I should have brought other clothes with me.
” She slides up onto my bed, tucking her feet under her as she pulls a pillow on her lap.
“Putting on the trench coat seems weird now.”
“Walk around naked if you’d like,” I reply with a smirk, joining her on the bed. I hand her the water and prop myself on a pillow against the glass wall of the closet headboard.
“Maybe I should demand that of you.” She waggles her eyebrows at me, and my amused expression fades. She takes a drink and drags her tongue across her moist lips. “You seem…different. Is everything all right?”
“Yes,” I reply calmly, my muscles tensing from her perceptiveness. “Why do you ask?”
“Because your mood has changed from how it was in there.” She points to the closet. “I thought this was what you wanted.”
I close my eyes and feel like ten times the dick. “It is what I want.”
“Then what’s the problem?” she asks, running her finger down the condensation on the side of the glass. “Is it my body?”
I blanch, completely taken off guard. “Are you kidding?”
She grips the glass tightly in her hand and looks up at me. “I mean, I’m twenty-nine years old. I’m no spring chicken.”
She’s serious. She’s actually, preposterously serious. I need to knock this idea right on its arse before she spins out of control.
“Sloan, there’s not a thing wrong with a single inch of your body.
You are so fucking sexy, I thought I was going to blow it in my jeans tonight when I opened the door and saw you in that trench coat.
” I fork my hand through my hair and exhale slowly, anger coursing through my veins because she didn’t get insecure alone.
Someone didn’t tell her how fucking perfectly beautiful she is every day, and that someone needs his arse kicked.
“And if I wanted a girl, I’d go out and get one.
But I don’t. I want a woman. I want you. ”
The corners of her mouth lift into a meek smile. “Well, then what is it because something’s clearly wrong?”
I purse my lips, knowing I’m going to regret this but that it’s ultimately for the best. “There’s nothing wrong, but I think we should stop for tonight.”
“Stop what? Stop this?” She points between our two bodies. “I thought this was supposed to be about sex. We haven’t even had sex yet and you’re kicking me out?”
“I’m not kicking you out,” I reply, my jaw clenched. “Tonight wasn’t just about sex. It was about seeing if you could handle all of this.”
“I thought I did pretty well!”
“You did,” I reply, running a hand through my hair and squeezing the back of my neck. “I just think it’s important for us both to take a breather and make sure our heads are on straight.”
The skin wrinkles between her brows as she shifts closer to me. “My head feels perfectly straight. I thought you said you liked when I took control.”
“I did…I do.” I point down to my offensive package still semi-hard beneath my jeans. “But I think some space after our first experiment is what’s best for both of us.”
“Gareth.” She growls my name magnificently and stands up, setting the water down on the nightstand and looking down at me with fire in her eyes. “You’re the one who gave me all the control, so why are you trying to take it from me right now?”
“I’m not taking it from you. I’m ensuring that you’re serious about this arrangement.” I emphasise the last word because I don’t want either of us to get this twisted up with feelings.
“My soaked panties indicate I’m pretty fucking serious.” She twirls on her heel and paces the room, making cute little fists with her hands. “This is bullshit.”
I shake my head and stand up, facing-off with her from the opposite side of the bed. She’s fucking striking. Her jaw tight with anger, her neck turning crimson with her emotions. It’s really hard to want her as bad as I do.
Steeling myself, I reply, “Tonight was about you taking pleasure for yourself, and that’s what you did. That’s ultimate control.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, and I have to tell my eyes not to look at her breasts when the action pushes them upward. “This is so stupid!”
“It’s what I think is best,” I grind out, the words as painful to say as they are to hear. She stares back at me with barely contained fury, and a sick part of me wants to laugh. She’s cute when she’s mad. “Don’t be angry, Sloan. We’re in a marathon, not a sprint.”
An audible growl rips from her throat as she tears off my T-shirt and fumbles to yank on her coat, affording me the glorious sight of her body one last time. It’s an image that will help me later.
“For someone who wanted a woman to take charge, you sure seem to be calling a lot of shots.”
She stomps around the bed toward the door in long, hacked off strides. I have to conceal my smile because, bloody hell, she’s dazzling. I trail after her down the stairs. It’s involuntary. She’s like a fucking magnetic force that pulls me in.
“I’ll call you later,” I say as she bends over and picks up the bag she dropped on the floor by the front door.
“No, you won’t!” she exclaims and twirls on her heel to face me. “I’ll call you if I can still stand you after this.”
A laugh breaks its way from my chest. “You’re awfully hostile for someone who just had two orgasms. I’m the one with blue balls here.”
She looks down at my dick and the fire in her eyes has it stirring again.
“Don’t you dare jerk off!” she states, her golden eyes flashing up to me with sudden renewed determination.
“That bulge in your pants is mine, not yours. If I decide I can handle your mood swings, I’ll be the one to take care of it. ”
My stomach somersaults. In a heartbeat, Sloan has all the control again. I swallow slowly and reply, “Very well, Treacle.”
She narrows her eyes and growls a deep rumble as she turns and storms out of my house. I lean against the doorframe, shirtless, barefoot, and hard as stone all over again as I watch her beautiful figure get smaller and smaller.
Gareth, you’re a fucking idiot.