Chapter Ten
S erge took control of the kiss and carried her out of the office into a bedroom. Aubrey moaned. Her thoughts wandered over what had happened, but she couldn't categorize what everything meant. Had she agreed to a relationship where he was left in control of her?
What about the shelter? She grabbed his shirt, needing to find out what he planned. Never, not in her lifetime, would she allow him to pay her way.
She pulled her head back. "Serge. W-we have to talk."
"It'll wait." He laid her on the bed. "Right now, I want deep inside of you."
He pulled his shirt out of his jeans. She sat up on the bed. He went too fast for her to figure out a way to slow him down.
"What if I want to stop before you can...feel?" She scooted farther back on the bed. "Not that I'm agreeing to anything painful or —"
"I don't play games." He stilled, frowning at her. "This is mutual, Bree. If anything makes you uncomfortable, it's my job to make you comfortable."
"But what if I don't want to do something?" She brought her knees to her chest. "I have to have a way to say no and trust that you'll respect me."
He growled. "Why the hell would you say no if you want to fuck me?"
Okay, he had a point, but what if he offered her something beyond her acceptance? She wrapped her arms around her legs. "We need rules."
"No rules." He planted his knee on the mattress, stretched toward her, and grabbed her ankle. "I told you how it would be between us. I don't take this lightly. You are the one who gets to see the real me, and you agreed."
Okay, she had agreed. "But, I—"
"Jesus Christ, do you want me to punish you for arguing with me or do you want me to shove my cock inside of you, making sure you come until you have no more questions left to ask?" He hovered over her. "What's it going to be?"
Oh. My. God. She nodded. "Your cock inside of me."
"Right answer." He slid her jeans down, taking her panties with him. "I've thought of nothing else but having my mouth on you for days. Don't deny me what I want."
In a state of shock, she watched his head go down between her thighs, and the wet warmth of his tongue settled between her legs. She fell back on the bed, paralyzed and quivering.
His tongue thrust inside of her...in, out, in, out. She clutched at the comforter, afraid she'd come off the mattress and scared she'd miss one touch of his amazing mouth.
Pleasure curled her toes and fingers, spreading warmth throughout her. She moaned, wanting to hold him, touch him, and knowing if she asked, she'd lose what he was doing to her.
Serge lifted his head, raining kisses on her sex. She reached for him and encountered his hair.
"Put your hands out to the sides." He moved between her legs and grabbed the hem of her shirt, wiggling it up and over her head, off her arms.
He unhooked her bra and had her upper body naked in seconds. She moved to cover her breasts, and he stopped her. His gaze heated, and she tightened her legs around his thighs as he cupped the undersides of her breasts and lowered his head to capture one of her hardened nipples in his mouth. She arched her back. As if his mouth pulled pleasure from the core of her body, she writhed underneath him, wanting more.
"Serge..."
He stopped, rising onto his knees. "You feel that?"
As if the need for an answer had torn a hole in his armor, he braced himself above her, denying her everything while he waited. She licked her lips and nodded, uncertain if he was asking something specific or just a general feel-good question.
"Yes," she whispered.
"I've always used protection." He unbuckled his belt. "You're the only person I've been with since my last clean test. I can send a copy to you tomorrow."
"I'm clean." Her heart raced.
"What do I have to do to make you comfortable enough I can go without a condom?" His gaze intensified. "If you need to see a doctor, I'll pay—"
"I take shots. I'm protected against pregnancy." She rubbed her lips together. "I've also never had unprotected sex."
"Good." He undid his zipper. "I like knowing there's nothing between us."
His engorged cock stood ready and waiting. Her knees fell open, and he braced himself on his arms. She arched against him. With more patience than she had, he teased her opening and slowly slid into her. A sigh of relief came out of her mouth, and her pussy convulsed around him, taking his size.
"Brace yourself on my arms." He held himself deep inside of her. "Eyes on me. Do not take them off me."
She followed his directions, wrapping her legs around his hips, her arms hooked around his forearms. Then he proceeded to stroke her from the inside in almost unbearable torture, drawing out every feeling of emptiness into something so special that tears filled her eyes. Not once had he retreated from her body, but built her up until she gasped, the air stolen from her lungs.
Connected and taken care of, she moved her hips in time. With all her nerves extra sensitive, her pussy convulsed, and she strained for release. Serge dropped to his elbows and kissed her neck. "Not yet."
He thrust. She held on. His body grazed her clit every time he pounded into her.
Pleasure swirled in her womb, climbing, reaching for the euphoria she knew waited at the end. Surrendering, her body seized in an explosion of sensations. She rasped his name as her thighs clamped down on his hips.
Serge grunted, thrusting again and again, moving her across the bed with the force until her head hung over the side, and only when she had no more room, he groaned his release with one last push.
He wrapped his arms around her, rolled her to the middle of the bed, and cradled her to his body. She nestled against his chest, secure and fulfilled. She closed her eyes, thankful for the state of her body. Relaxed and spent, she could no longer dwell on what Serge—she shuddered—spoke to her about earlier.
There was no denying she connected to him on a basic level. Moments ago, he'd known exactly what she needed and had taken her to the end.
After his, she'd half expected him to force himself on her or show her how dominating he could get while having sex. But he'd taken his time.
She'd gone months, years, without a man in her life. She'd perfected the art of bringing herself relief in a few short minutes every night to help herself fall asleep. What Serge brought her was something else entirely different. He filled a hollowness inside of her that she had never known existed until he pointed it out, tempted her, and left her addicted.
"You're a drug," she whispered.
"What?" His eyes flicked from left to right and back again, studying her gaze.
"I could seriously become addicted to you." She bent her elbow and propped her head on her hand. "I can't seem to say no or stop myself around you. Then, when we're having sex, it's like you read my mind and know exactly what I want. It's crazy."
He stared at her until she grew self-conscious and shifted away from him. Had she said something wrong?
"That's a compliment, if you can't tell." She peeked over her shoulder.
Still, he lay there looking at her, not saying a word in reply. She pushed herself off the bed. "Can you point me to the bathroom?"
To avoid panicking, she searched for the panties he had pulled off her earlier and found them at the foot of the bed. Instead of putting them on, she bunched the material in her hand.
Serge clasped his hands behind his head and watched her. She hesitated. He wasn't mad. Usually, the skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled when his temper flared. No, he simply studied her, which left her confused. It wasn't a good feeling after having fantastic sex minutes ago. She already missed him—the Serge Adams that made her feel complete when they had sex.
She walked across the room, opened a door, and found a large walk-in closet. She wanted to stick her tongue out at him, but instead, she walked across the room and opened the other door. She slipped inside and shut the door. Needing privacy while she cleaned herself, she locked the door. Then, she leaned against the counter and let herself feel.
Her whole body shook. What was she doing?
Serge remained in the other room, ignoring her after testing her with a story meant to scare her away. And, she'd stayed. Not only had she stayed, but she loved the back and forth they'd gone through. That wasn't something she'd admit to him. It made her feel sick, knowing he could turn her on.
Clearly, her independence vanished completely when Serge was nearby. He likely enjoyed the power he had to manipulate her to his desires.
"Come here," she mouthed, mimicking him. "Look at me."
She pushed away from the counter, found a washcloth in the tall cabinet at the end of the bathroom, and wiped away any evidence of her lack of sanity. After she deemed herself free of Serge, she pulled on her panties, washed her hands, and walked out into the room.
Serge remained on the bed in the same position, with the same look on his face and the same nonjudgmental attitude toward her. She slipped on her shoes.
"Okay, so I'm going to call a cab." She shrugged and gave him a smile that probably appeared more of a grimace than happiness. "Thanks. Again."
When he refused to respond, she pursed her lips. He was right, she had no idea who he was anymore . She wanted a man to pay attention to her, including talking to her after they had sex. Serge was big on talking when he wanted something from her but once he got it, he reverted back to being an asshole.
She was seriously messed up in the head when it came to him, but he was an even bigger mess. She walked toward the door.
"Aubrey," he murmured.
She stopped. Talking to him took all her patience. She would rather yell and throw something at him. The cold, indifferent Serge drove her crazy. Was he showing her how he could be? Was he trying to make a point?
She turned around. "What?"
"You're not going anywhere, but back in bed with me," he said. "I made a promise."
"I don't remember what that promise was." She could play his game, too.
"Don't be ridiculous." He moved off the bed and stood in front of her before she could leave the room. "We're together. I want you in my bed, in my house, and with me when I'm not working."
She laughed because what he wanted could never happen. "I have to work. I have my own house. We are just getting to know each other."
"You'll go to the shelter during the day, but let your employees work at night. The rest of the time, you're here." He framed her face with his hands. "You agreed."
"No, you changed the rules," she whispered. "You said nothing about where I'd be staying or how I would fit in working while seeing you. I own a shelter that opens every night. I'm responsible for the lives of other people. You have no idea—"
"I do." His thumb covered her lips. "I'm being considerate. You're allowed to work. But you're in my bed tonight. I'm not done with you yet."
"Wh-what's that mean?" she said.
His gaze softened. "You have no clue, but you will."
His hand tugged at her hair, and she leaned into him. She could agree with the last part and spend a few nights with him. Greg and Vic had new employees helping them at the shelter.
"Tomorrow, I'll have someone move whatever you want from your house to my house, so you're more comfortable here," he said.
She jolted. "You can't—"
He captured her mouth, swallowing her refusal. Her push against him faded when he stuck his tongue in her mouth. She closed her eyes. God, he could kiss.
Tomorrow, after he finished with her tonight, she'd tell him what she wanted out of their new relationship. He wasn't the only one who could make demands.