Chapter 5
KEELY
Having grown up in a tough neighborhood in Brooklyn, there are very few things that surprise me anymore. And yet, tonight I’ve been hit by one surprise after another. Most of them shocking enough to almost flatten me.
I stare up at Mason Sinclair, knowing my mouth is hanging open like a dead fish, but unable to do more than grapple with the fact that I’m naked on the hood of a half-a-million-dollar sports car, my only protection a thigh-length cotton robe, my body exposed to the elements and the avid gaze of the powerful man looming over me.
A man who just asked me to recite the constellations while he goes down on me.
I want to laugh. I want to snap at him for stealing my line, that I’m the one who normally demands nerdy morsels with my sex. Most of all, I want to get up off that hot hood, throw some snarky quip in his face and walk off into the night. Because he’s seriously crazy.
I can see it in his eyes. I can feel it in his voice when he speaks to me. I think I have issues. But this man has them by the barrel-load. And for whatever reason, tonight they’re straining at the leash of his control.
I should put a stop to this madness before it goes any further.
But I don’t.
Because I want to experience another orgasm like the one he just gave me. Again and again. I lie here, the heavens shining above me, and decide to chalk it up to the insane rush of a near-death experience firing up my blood.
“Deal,” I find myself responding.
My reward is a twisty-wicked smile followed by a less-than-gentle trail of his fingers down my inner thigh. That alone is enough to set my body on fire.
He lowers his body until he’s crouched in front of the low-slung car, his shoulders, neck and face the only visible parts of his body.
“Start now.”
Another curt instruction that would normally put my back up immediately. But that orgasm was beyond this world, and as a woman who’s made it a mission to only chase the best, most satisfying ones, I know the difference between mediocre and platinum standard.
Mason Sinclair’s are definitely double platinum.
I let that growly dominance slide. Especially as I can feel his warm breath caressing my sex.
“Pegasus.” I gasp when the rough edge of his beard whispers over my outer lips.
“Andromeda, Cassiopeia, Camelopardalis, Leo.” I struggle to keep my gaze fixed upward, not to glance down at what he’s doing to me.
His tongue flicks my clit and I groan. God, he’s so good.
“Ursa Major, Venatici.” The broad side of his tongue licks me from hole to hood before he buries his face in an open-mouthed kiss of my sex.
My whole body shudders and my hands slam against the expensive paintwork.
“Coma Berenice, Virgo— Oh!” My hips jerk as he opens me up and goes to town on my pussy, eating me with an expertise that makes my world tilt sideways.
“Keep going,” he growls against me after a long pull on my clit.
I shut my eyes and recite from memory. “Serpens Caput, Ophiuchus, Libra, Serpens Cauda.” I recite them slower now, because I’m drowning in sensation and my brain can barely remember my own name.
“Scutum…” My hands lift off the hood and I grab my breasts, pulling on my nipples as my hips roll against Mason’s mouth.
“God, that’s so hot, baby,” he croons. I don’t know whether it’s because of what I’m doing to my own body or the names spilling out of my mouth.
All I know is, this is the hottest non-penetrative sex I’ve ever experienced.
And I don’t want it to end. But I feel myself cresting the edge.
“Aquila, Vulpecula…” He increases the intensity of his mouth and tongue, then slides two fingers inside me.
“God, yes,” I gasp, squeezing harder on my breasts.
Strong fingers brush mine away and my breasts are cupped in warm, expert hands. He sucks my clit into his mouth the same time as he twists my nipples. I explode and feel myself bounce on the hood of the car as pleasure rips through me.
He laps me up in greedy licks, his own groans deep and guttural.
I disconnect with reality and just exist in pure, mind-blowing sensation. I’m not sure how much time passes, but I slowly open my eyes to find him leaning over me.
He’s not smiling, and his brooding gaze rakes over my face with an intensity that raises the hairs on my neck.
When I manage to pull my gaze from his, I look down. My robe is done up and tucked around my thighs, and my belt is secured around my waist.
Disappointment and relief twist through me, and I school my features as I raise my eyes to his. While a large part of me wants the next step to be Mason fucking me, a part of me is reticent about ending my months-long dry spell with a one-night stand.
Having the decision firmly made for me isn’t one I foresaw, however, and I feel a little flustered as I lie on the car, with the stars I’ve just named winking above me.
“Time to go,” he says. He straightens and holds out his hand.
I place mine in his, but before I can stand, he scoops me up, much like he did before, and places me back in the car via the driver’s side. I secure my seatbelt in silence, and a second later, he’s throwing the car in reverse.
He drives back with much the same speed and intensity as the outward journey, and I suspect that whatever demons are chasing him were nowhere near quietened on our little danger-laden jaunt.
There are fewer lights on at the house, and I guess the party has wound down.
Mason parks the car in the garage, and once he turns off the engine, the silence becomes almost impossibly deafening. I stay in my seat, unsure what to do next.
Me, the woman who’s never lost for words and always ready with a snappy comeback, according to my family and best friend, is stumped as to how the next minutes will play out.
Mason thrusts open his door and steps out. Striding round the car, he opens mine and stands back, his arm thrown over the edge of the door, as if he doesn’t want to stand too close.
I get out of the car. My legs feel weak from the depleted adrenaline and from the two powerful orgasms, which continue to ripple residual tremors through me when I move.
My eyes meet his, and a small smile plays about his lips.
“Shall we dispense with the awkward goodbyes? I have a cold shower to get intimately acquainted with.”
My gaze drops to his crotch, and sure enough his cock is still hard and thick behind the fly of his jeans. My pussy clenches with renewed need, and the temptation to offer him relief hovers on my lips.
I stop myself before it spills out, frown at my disconcerting emotions around this man and try to think of one of my famous, but now oddly elusive, comebacks.
“Sure. Umm… have fun with that.”
God. Really?
A corner of his mouth crooks upward, but his eyes reflect a solemnity that cracks at something inside me. He watches me in silence and I can’t help fidgeting again.
The man has given me two mind-blowing orgasms, and I can’t find one word to say to him?
“Thank you” seems odd and flippant. And despite the craziness with which our meeting started, I can’t flip him off either, no matter how richly deserving I think it is for him scaring me to death on our drive out.
So I stand here, my eyes locked on his.
Slowly, he comes toward me and stops. He traces a finger down my cheek, and I catch a faint scent of my sex on his hand.
“I wish I’d met you in another time,” he says with that strange look still lurking in his eyes.
“I’m not sure I can say the same.”
He looks at me for a long moment, then he nods. “Fair enough.”
He leans in close, brushes his mouth against my cheek. “But just so you know, your pussy is the sweetest thing I’ve tasted in a very long time,” he says in my ear. “I’m going to miss it.”
He walks away before I can draw breath, his long, lean body disappearing around the house.
I stay there, stunned, for almost five minutes before the sound of voices drifting from upstairs forces me to move.
Luckily, I don’t encounter anyone as I hurry to my room. As I disrobe, I see clear imprints of fingers on my breasts and thighs.
Blushing, I slip on my nightie and hurry into bed. I fall asleep with my hand resting between my thighs, a sudden fear that unless I keep it there, the memory of what happened on that dead end road in Montauk will disappear forever.
* * *
I wake to brilliant sunshine and my best friend’s curious stare.
“We missed you last night. Where did you disappear to?” Bethany asks, her blue eyes full of curiosity as she steps forward and holds out the mug of coffee in her hand.
I take my time sitting up and arranging the pillows behind me to buy myself time to respond.
Bethany and I used to share everything, but since she became one-half of the powerful Savage couple, I’ve begun to feel as if burdening her with my mundane life and problems isn’t fair on her.
Plus, the man behind my disappearance from the party last night happens to be a good friend of Zach Savage’s.
Which makes this whole thing a little tricky.
I accept the coffee and blow on it before sipping.
Bethany perches on the edge of the bed and eyes me. “I know that look. You’re thinking of how much to tell me, aren’t you?” she accuses with a narrowed gaze. “What the hell happened after you stormed out of the kitchen? You made me really worried.”
I shrug and try to smile my way through it. “Well, your Neanderthal friend found me.”
She frowns a little. “I don’t know him that well. I only met him one time before last night.”
“So you know nothing about him?” I ask nonchalantly, even though my stomach knots with more than a little tension.
“Very little, but Zach says he’s been through some issues. I only asked because I didn’t want him to come after you without…” She stops, and I muster a grin.
“Without knowing that he’d return alive?”
She grins. “Yeah, you were pretty pissed when you stormed out of the kitchen. Anyway, Zach said whatever he’s been through has made him a little… eccentric, but he wasn’t unpleasant to you, was he?”
I stifle a hysterical laugh. “No, he wasn’t unpleasant. A little judgmental, sure, but nothing I couldn’t handle.”
Liar, the hard throbbing between my thighs seems to echo. I shift in the bed and sip my drink as Bethany continues to eye me.
“You sure?”
I nod. “Seriously, he came to find me on the beach and apologized for his rudeness.”
“That’s all?”
“Pretty much.” I cringe inside at the barefaced lie and quickly change the subject. “How did the rest of the party go?”
She shrugs. “Okay. Everyone left happy, which is the most important thing, I guess. But”—she bounces on the bed, her eyes shining with happiness—“Zach and I finally agreed on a date for the wedding.”
“Oh?” I heave an inner sigh of relief that she’s dropped the subject of Mason and me. “And is Aunt Keely helping with the organization?” I ask with a genuine smile this time.
“Of course you are. The date’s April thirtieth.”
“Wow, I thought for sure Savage would want to get you hitched by next weekend.”
She rolls her beautiful eyes. “He tried, believe me. But he’s learning he can’t always have his way.
” I hide a smile and raise an eyebrow when she bites her lip, a worried look crossing her heart-stoppingly beautiful face.
“You think you can help me organize the wedding on top of the Indigo Lounge project?”
I send her a speaking glance. “You kidding? Have you forgotten what I do for a living?”
She laughs. “No, I know you can juggle projects in your sleep, but Zach can be demanding.”
“Girl, please, he may rule your world with thunder and lightning, but Zach Savage doesn’t scare me.
Besides, I’ve hammered down most of the project details and expect everything to be done by the end of March, so that leaves me a clear month to help you with your wedding once I’m back from the IL trip.
I’ll be able to devote a full month to helping you, babe. Don’t sweat it at all.”
Her face lights up with a smile so radiant, I can’t help but smile in return. But again, I feel that sharp ache in my chest that makes me feel like a bitch.
We talk wedding shop for another fifteen minutes before she leaves me alone to get dressed.
I know she has a relaxing day of entertaining her remaining guests, but I’ve already made the excuse to return to New York under the pretext of work pressures.
For a moment, I feel bad, but then I’m glad I’m not staying, because I don’t think I can face running into Mason Sinclair this morning, in case he hasn’t already left.
In the clarity of day, my behavior last night seems even more shocking. I’ve enjoyed one-night stands before, those which I’ve initiated, and those I’ve gone along with just for the hell of it.
Last night was different. The intensity of the whole thing is not something I’m familiar with. I want to think it’s my uncharacteristically long abstinence that made me react like I did, but I know it’s not true.
Something about his intensity drew a response from me that still makes me reel.
I sit in bed, sipping my coffee, then feel my face heat up as I recall his parting words.
Your pussy is the sweetest thing I’ve tasted in a long time … So why didn’t he go a step further? I’m not ashamed to say that I wanted him to. That I would’ve let him fuck me right there on top of his car.
He certainly wanted to. So why didn’t I push?
I set my cup down and slowly absorb the answer I’ve known for a while. Because I like being in control. Every single one of the men I’ve slept with was carefully hand-picked because I like my sex one way—by being the one in control.
From the moment I set eyes on him, I knew Mason wasn’t that sort of guy.
I called him a Neanderthal just now. Deep down, I know it isn’t far from the truth.
Behind all the demons lurking in his eyes is a deeply primitive guy who will push all the wrong buttons in me.
Buttons I haven’t let anyone push since I was nineteen.
No matter how hot the sex, I’ll never give up control in bed. Or in any other aspect of my life.
Never again.