Chapter 23 The Sneak #2
I sighed. We both knew that would be ridiculous, partly because Ronan’s height would require him to sleep curled up like a shrimp, and also because we weren’t exactly unfamiliar with each other’s bodies. Even if it had been a few weeks since he’d turned me inside out on my own bed back in Seattle.
I shivered at the memory.
And then realized something I was feeling was definitely not a memory.
I squirmed. “Is that—”
There was another chuckle. “Yeah. Involuntary response to a beautiful woman, I’m afraid. At least to this beautiful woman.”
Despite the breadth of the bed and the fact that there was no longer any reason for us to be pressed this close, he didn’t move away. I squirmed again, but that only made the “problem” that much bigger.
“Laney, stop moving like that. It’s only going to make it worse.”
“Are you…” I almost didn’t say it. But I had to. “Are you naked down there?”
I wasn’t wearing much either—underwear and a camisole were about all I could tolerate in bed.
“Yep.” He didn’t even sound a little bit ashamed.
“Ronan!”
I could feel his shrug against my back. “I sleep naked, and I didn’t exactly have time to change before I scrammed across the hall.
You want me to try to fumble around in the dark looking for a pair of underpants?
That’s going to make more noise than anything when I knock over a lamp or some shit.
Plus, you’ve already seen what’s happening down there, anyway. It’s a boner, not a gun.”
The problem was, he wasn’t being completely unreasonable.
“How drunk is Shea?” I asked finally. “Won’t she notice the bed isn’t made?”
“I doubt it. She was calling me ‘Roney’ when she walked in. She only does that when she’s three sheets to the wind.”
I relaxed a bit more. And while he relaxed his iron grip on my body, he didn’t move away. Not completely.
And the evidence of his arousal currently pressed against my ass hadn’t dissipated much either.
“For what it’s worth, this wasn’t my plan for tonight.” He pressed a kiss to my shoulder and nuzzled into my neck.
“What was your plan, then?” I was stalling for time. The scent of his breath, somehow minty and fresh, combined with the solid warmth of his body encompassing mine, was making it hard to think straight.
“Let’s see… respecting your boundaries.” Another kiss found my jaw. “Giving you space.” One more to my ear. “Being a gentleman.” He lightly bit my lobe. “Maybe jerking off in the shower while thinking about that survey you filled out.”
I shivered right there in the nest of his body. “Ronan.”
“What? You checked YES on dirty talk, sweets. And wrote me a little footnote about watching porn with cumshots.”
I could feel my body heat in response, and it wasn’t completely out of embarrassment. Lord. What had I been thinking when I filled out that stupid checklist?
Certainly not about getting this sort of reaction.
Lie. I knew exactly what I’d been doing. By the time I’d gotten to the end of that stupid contract of his, I’d wanted to shock Ronan Black as much as he’d shocked me.
In a way, seeing all of those possibilities laid out in black and white had been freeing.
How many men had I dated who could barely talk about sex, much less acknowledge that the woman they were seeing had her own preferences built by experience?
Most wanted the women they dated to be a Madonna, but one who came preloaded with sexual talents for them to discover like a choose-your-own-adventure video game.
It was exhausting.
And then there was Ronan, who didn’t seem to be fazed by much of anything, much less the giant sex checklist that had come from his best friend, which he’d apparently jumped right into reading the second we’d gotten home.
He went back to nibbling my ear. Then he licked my neck.
“Ronan.”
“Can’t help it. You smell too fucking good. What is that, vanilla?”
“Daph-daphne,” I managed as he sucked the sensitive spot behind my ear harder than before, enough that I was pretty sure he’d leave a mark. “Ronan…” His name came out like a moan.
“Do you need me to stop? Say no. I’m begging you.”
I should have said yes. And I knew he would listen.
Maybe it was because I knew how hard he was trying to respect my wishes, whether it was in the form of a contract or eschewing alcohol or even trying to sleep in a separate room when we were both clearly dying for another taste of each other, that I finally gave in to what my body had been asking for since I’d stepped off that plane.
“No,” I whispered. “But Ronan, I don’t want to… you know… all the way.”
Why was I finding it so hard to say “have penetrative sex” out loud? The man already had it in writing that I was open to experimenting with a variety of toys. This was getting ridiculous.
And yet, he was as patient as ever as the hand at my waist slithered up to palm one of my breasts before toying with my nipples. “Hands only, I promise. Just let me touch you, Ari. I think we both need that tonight. I need something real.”
This time I couldn’t help but arch back against him as he tugged at that aching bead. Yeah, he was definitely back to full attention, and now so was I. Something real, he said. As opposed to the masks we had both worn, I supposed.
Here in the dark, neither of us had to wear any kind of expression nor be anything other than genuine to the other.
That’s what Ronan was asking of me, I realized. Not a play. Not any kind of performance.
Just my responses, pure and simple, to whatever he had to offer.
“Just one,” I heard myself say. I could have meant one thousand. Numbers didn’t seem to matter anymore.
“Just one,” Ronan agreed. “For now, anyway.”
Then he turned me in his arms, and his mouth found mine in the dark. My hands moved on their own, exploring the taut skin that was alternately smooth over shoulder, biceps, the edges of his clavicles, then roughened by a light down deliciously masculine hair over his chest and sternum.
“Ronan,” I gasped just before his tongue slipped in to meet mine.
“Ari,” he mumbled as his hands slipped down to palm and squeeze my ass. “Laney.”
He was hard between my legs, sliding against the thin cotton of my underwear, working my flesh with his hands like his mouth was working mine. For all his humor, Ronan Black was a man of discipline here in this bed. Every movement was earnest and full of intent. I didn’t doubt him for one moment.
“All right?” he asked as his finger dipped between my legs, toying with the elastic.
I sucked in a heated breath as they found where I was already wet for him. Soaked, even. “Yes.”
“I’m going to need more than that, baby. More? Less?” His finger toyed at my entrance. Never slipping in. Waiting for me to guide them home.
Oh God. It was unbearable.
“Do it.” I could barely eke out the command.
“Do what, sweetness?” A second finger joined the other two in their shallow torture while the flat of his thumb found my clit. “You think you can take more than two?”
I shuddered against his mouth. “Yes, do it. Ronan, I swear, if you don’t, I’m going to…”
He chuckled. “Do what, Laney? You’re going to have to say it, or it’s never going to happen.”
I was all but whimpering now, my hips rotating into that teasing touch, as frustrated as I was turned on, enough to elicit the kind of language, the kind of uncontrolled response that never seemed to happen except with this man.
“Do—oh God—Ronan, you need to—just put them in. Fuck me with your hand.”
“Your wish is my command.” His fingers slipped into me, two, then a third, and to my shock, I was ready for the intrusion. More than ready. Eager for more.
“Greedy.” Ronan’s deep voice was a low vibration against my neck. “Squeeze my hand, Laney. Take what you need.”
His fingers curled, and I arched with a moan. “Oh, fuck, Ronan!”
“That’s right, give me that filth. I want you to lose control, baby. Forget how to be responsible and perfect and all the things you feel you have to be for everyone but yourself. I want to feel you let go.”
His fingers were moving faster now, truly doing what I knew he ached to do with the other part of his body, stiff and long against my thigh.
But Ronan Black was true to his word. He wanted one thing from me and one thing only:
“Come for me, Ari.”
I shattered. “Ronan!”
My cry was swallowed by a kiss that might have lasted seconds or hours. I really couldn’t tell. All I knew was ecstasy moved through me in waves that matched his fingers as they massaged every last drop of pleasure from my body.
When I finally returned to my proper dimension, I could just make out his face in the dark, right along with the satisfaction written all over it.
“Fucking beautiful.” He leaned down to press one final, gentle kiss on my mouth. “That’s one.”
“You’re ridiculous,” I mumbled. I could barely talk, but I was supposed to withstand seven of those per week? Right now, I felt wrecked for life, and that had just been with his hands.
I was starting to think that our one night together (I wasn’t counting Vegas, since I couldn’t remember any of it) was a very small representation of what Ronan Black was capable of.
“Come here,” he said, rolling onto his back and urging me into the crook of his arm. “We’re falling asleep properly like husband and wife.”
“What does that mean?” I wondered, though I was already draping one leg over his and nuzzling into that warm space that seemed to fit me perfectly.
“I don’t know. It just seems wrong adjourning to other sides of the bed like strangers when you just fell apart in my arms.”
I couldn’t argue with him there, and so I allowed him to arrange me against his long body, draping one of my legs across his lap, pulling one of my arms over his torso so that I was all but splayed across him like a personal blanket.
“I’ve wanted this for weeks,” he murmured as he finally started to relax into the pillow.
“Sex? You didn’t even get off.”
“No, Ari.” His voice was drowsy even as his arm tightened around my shoulders. “To fall asleep with you in my arms.”