Chapter Eleven
A n hour after daybreak , Serge stood at the window looking out into his backyard. Instead of seeing Hangman creek rolling through the rear quarter section of his property, the birds singing in the trees dotting the bank, and the sunlight greeting the day, he kept thinking back to how Aubrey held on to him through the night.
He'd woken up three times and had sex with her. At first, he believed his insatiable need for her was because she slept half on top of him, but it was more than that. It was simply because she was there and holding him.
When he'd slipped out of bed earlier, she'd whimpered in her sleep and reached for him.
He liked seeing her need for him when she had her guard down. She contradicted herself when fully awake.
More than anything, he wanted to get inside her head. From the outside, she appeared calm, cool, and collected. Typically, he avoided professional women because they had lost the ability to rely on their emotions. Every aspect of their lives revolved around business. They had no desire to feel, and although he could teach them how, their minds were closed off to anything beyond ten-minute sex.
Yet, Aubrey showed him more in the short time they had spent together than most women had in his lifetime. The second look she cast his way when answering his questions suggested she wasn't sure if she had said the right thing to please him. He wasn't even certain if she realized how often she touched him.
He pitched forward until his forehead hit the window. Hell, she often leaned against him, seeking his support or protection whenever they were within five feet of each other. That kind of shit meant something to him.
Something had happened that caused her not to trust men. She failed to recognize how deeply she yearned for the stability he could provide. He couldn't quite figure out the source of her hesitation—whether it stemmed from a past boyfriend or was learned in childhood.
Soon, he'd know more about her and could make sure she never doubted her place in his life. He straightened and moved away from the window. From here on, Aubrey was his job. To hell with the corporate world. Money had never made him feel the way Aubrey had.
At the edge of the bed, he looked down at Aubrey. He would satisfy her in ways she had never imagined, and in return, he hoped to quell the demons inside him. The ones crying out to hurt, run, and survive.
Last night, she thought enthusiastic sex equaled the roughness he desired. His chest warmed. She had no fucking idea the level he needed. But she'd learn.
Fully dressed, he sat on the edge of the bed and leaned toward her. "Time to wake up."
She puckered her lips. He trailed his finger along her slim brow, softening the frown from her face. She moaned in her sleep, and he hardened. He liked the susceptible side to her as much as her temper.
Last night, he learned his silence angered her. His authority scared her. And, when he put his mouth between her thighs, she lost all control of her body. When on the verge of a climax, she'd open her mouth, and when she orgasmed, she bit down on her bottom lip. He wanted to unzip his jeans and curb his lust for her, but they were running out of time.
He stood, yanking the sheet off her naked body, and spanked her bare ass. "Get up."
She jolted into a sitting position on the bed. He took pity on her and kissed her hard, taking away the sting from his hand. When she relaxed and got her bearings, he pulled back. He grinned at the dazed look on her face.
"Time to take a shower." He pulled his shirt over his head.
"What time is it?" She stifled a yawn.
He held out his hand. "Six."
She latched onto his fingers, unfolded her legs from the sheet tangled around her knees, and stood on the bed. "It's Saturday. I need to get to the shelter."
Instead of jumping down to the floor, she pitched herself at him. He had just enough time to put his hands under her butt and hold her as she wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, burying her head in his shoulder. Pleasantly surprised at the position, he stood holding her. He liked how he could carry her, as if she depended on him to move her to the other room.
"You go to work. I'll have someone head over to your house and bring your clothes here." He moved across the room. "Do you need anything else?"
Her head came off his shoulder. "I don't think that's necessary. I can get a bag later."
He continued to hold her as he turned on the water in the shower. "That takes time off of us. I'll have him grab your clothes and whatever's in your bathroom. Later, you can bring whatever other belongings you need to the house."
She struggled against him. "Put me down."
He ignored her and locked his arms around her hips. She was going to get a bigger surprise if she kept moving against his erection.
"Serge!" she said.
He braced his foot against the tub, letting her straddle his thigh with her feet off the ground but keeping her on him. "We talked about you staying here, remember?"
Naked and moving, she tilted, trying to get one of her feet on the floor but he held her up too high. He ignored the way her heat pressed through the leg of his jeans and straight to his thigh. Letting her put all her weight on the one part of her that he knew would make her listen, he hooked her neck and held her by the hair. Not enough to hurt but bring her attention around to him.
"I'm only staying for the weekend," she said.
He glanced down, and his chest expanded. "Do you really want to walk away from this?"
"It's happening too fast. I need time," she said through her teeth. "I'm not willing to lose—"
"You still have a house." He moistened his lips. "Later, when you understand that you're not going anywhere, that I'm not going anywhere, you can rent your place out, sell it, or leave it empty, I don't care. That'll be up to you. I'm not taking anything away from you. I'm trying to give you everything you want, and right now, that's me and what I can do for you."
Her mouth grew tighter as she fought for balance on his leg, and the pressure on her scalp intensified. "All you're doing is hurting me."
"Am I?" He wiggled the leg propped up on the tub. "I can practically feel the dampness from your pussy soaking into my jeans. Tell me, again, am I hurting you?"
Her eyes shifted to his chest, and the cords on her neck convulsed. He waited. She had some preconceived notions that he wanted to take everything away from her. The truth was much different.
She shifted on his leg. He tilted his head. No longer was she thinking about his demand.
"Please stay with me," he whispered.
Her hands came off his arm and held on to his shoulders. She continued to move against his thigh, back and forth, grinding her heat against him. He used the hold on her hair to ease her face toward him.
"That's it, Bree. Make yourself feel good." He pulled her forward, making her body tilt, putting more pressure on her clit, and captured her lips.
He kissed her hard, demanding, and deep. Not letting her go but helping her stay balanced as she rode his thigh, he repeated, "Stay."
"S-Serge..." Her eyelids fluttered, and her breath came in heavy pants. "Please, help me."
He picked her up and set her on her feet, holding her steady as she swayed. Harder than a rock, he stripped off his gray sweatpants. He could already imagine her tight, hot body impaled on him.
He picked her up again and smiled when her arms went back around his neck and her legs wrapped around his waist. He sucked in his breath. "Fuck, I like when you hang on me. Let me inside you. I'll ease your ache."
She bounced, rubbing against him. He guided her hips down and slipped his hardness inside of her. All the muscles in his legs tensed. His balls ached in pleasure. With her draped around him, he rocked from his heels to his toes, thrusting balls deep. The weight of her on his cock squeezed the hell out of him. He fought to hold back until she found her release.
"Yeah." He grunted. "Take all of me."
"Serge," she breathed.
She clawed at his back. The sharp, stinging pain set him off. He pumped inside of her, pushing her down hard on him, half lifting her off before letting her fall against his hips. Slick from her arousal, she glided over him, stroking his length.
"Oh, God. Oh, God," she chanted.
His whole body jerked. "Eyes on me. Let me see you come."
As she lifted her gaze and focused on him, her arms trembled around his neck, and her body convulsed in his arms. He arched his back, all his energy congregated deep in his sack, and exploded. Holding still, he shot his load deep inside of her. Long after he'd emptied himself, his body seized in a rhythmic pattern, not wanting to stop.
Aubrey placed her head on his shoulder and let her arms fall to the sides. He took one step, stumbled from weakness, and stopped. "Need to shower," he mumbled.
She nodded against his neck. "Me, too."
He set her feet on the floor. Then he led her into the shower. He quickly washed as he watched her stand under the spray of the water, her eyes closed, her facial features relaxed. When he finished, he changed positions with her and proceeded to wash her body, taking special care to wash between her legs.
Aubrey held on to him, finally leaning her head against his chest. He stroked her wet hair away from her face. All he had to do was fuck her to get her to stop arguing with him.
After he toweled her off, he went to the closet and grabbed his clothes. As he dressed, he kept a close eye on her. She stood in front of the mirror with her wet hair lying wild around her shoulders and a frown marring her mouth.
When he tossed the towel toward the hamper, he caught her staring at him. "Problem?"
"A big one," she said.
He clamped his teeth together to hide his grin but failed. Throwing back his head, he laughed.
She tended to cause trouble when there wasn't any. He quickly texted Jack and gave him the address for Aubrey's house.
"I don't see anything funny...Serge." She slipped on the shirt she wore last night over her firm, round breasts, going without a bra.
"Keep looking like that and I'll lock you up," he muttered. "You need to get to work, so you can get back here. I have someone going to your house right now."
"Who?"
"His name's Jack, but you won't see him. He's someone I grew up with on the street," he said.
Her eyebrows lifted. "He doesn't work for you?"
"Odd jobs, once in a while." He winked. "Normally, he steals cars for a living."
She grabbed his arms. "I don't want him stealing my things. Granted, most of the things in that house belonged to my mother, but I don't want him to rip me off. No way am I handing over my key."
"He doesn't need a key. He'll be in and out. Nobody will even notice. He also knows that if anything is missing or broken, he'll answer to me." He stepped into his jeans. "Can I take this as you're okay with moving in with me?"
"Ten minutes ago, yes. Now, no." She rolled her eyes when he chuckled. "I'm starting to think you don't listen."
She walked past him to the mirror and finger-combed her hair. He leaned against the bathroom doorway, content to watch her. "You can use my brush," he said.
"No, thanks. I use a special brush. At home." She continued untangling her hair, only wrinkling her nose when a stubborn snarl caught on her fingers. "Can I ask you something?"
"Go ahead," he said.
"Why are you putting so much effort into having me stay with you this weekend?"
His throat closed, and he swallowed. "Because you make me happy."
Her gaze softened in the mirror, and she turned to him. "You make me happy, too."
He closed his eyes and let his chin fall to his chest. That soft voice of admission had done something to him.
He stepped in front of her and kissed her forehead. "When you're ready, let me know and I'll take you to your car."
She nodded. He turned and walked out of the room. Away from her, where no one could see him, he smiled.