Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
REBEKKA
I grip the side of the island as his fingers drift higher until they’re flirting with the hem of my shorts.
They’re more like hotpants in hindsight, because Rian’s about three inches from my pulsing pussy, and if he gets any closer, he’s going to discover exactly what his filthy mouth and flirty fingers do to me.
‘Would you like that, Rebekka?’ His face dips until his lips brush over mine with the lightest, featherlike kiss.
‘We can’t,’ I whisper, but I make no move to pull away from him.
‘Unfortunately, there is no we.’ A pained look passes over his face. ‘Not at this moment anyway.’
I’m not sure where he’s going with this, but despite what my mouth says, I need him to keep going. ‘What are you saying? I’m not fluent in flirting,’ I pant.
He smiles again then, slow and wide. ‘I’m giving you a get-out-of-jail-free card.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘There is no “we” because I don’t want you to feel any guilt or shame afterwards, so I’m putting all the onus on me.’ His fingers skim higher beneath the cotton until he’s an inch away from where I so desperately ache for his touch. ‘Let me give you a Christmas present.’
‘What kind of present?’ My voice is so breathy it doesn’t even sound like mine.
‘One where you come so hard you forget what year it is.’ His lips brush over mine again, and my lips part for him. My nipples are straining in my bra for his attention, and my vagina is positively preening for his touch. I’m so fucked.
Doubt duels with the desire that’s eating me from the inside out. ‘And what about you?’ I glance down at the tent—or perhaps I should say marquee—in his suit trousers. ‘Do you want a present? Is that why you came here?’
‘The only present I want is to watch your face as you come on my tongue, sweetheart.’ His finger sneaks up further and fleetingly skims the thin lace sheathing my pussy. His eyes flare when he meets my arousal.
‘We shouldn’t,’ I pant, but I’m not convincing either of us.
‘We’re not. I am. Let me give you this. You don’t know how many times I’ve fantasised about it.’ His fingers still, but his mouth moves to my neck, trailing tiny kisses in its wake.
‘You sure know how to woo a woman, Beckett.’ My head rolls back to give him better access.
‘This isn’t wooing, sweetheart, but given half the chance, I would woo you.’ He works his way back up again, his lips skimming over my jawline before brushing over my mouth again. He’s so tender. Like he’s worried about terrifying me. The only thing I’m terrified of right now is that he stops.
‘You know, I deliberately dressed down for your visit.’ I motion to my outfit. ‘I purposely didn’t go for sexy.’
A low, deep laugh rumbles from his chest. ‘You ooze sexy, Rebekka Remington. It doesn’t matter what you wear. When you have it, you have it. And you fucking have it—and then some.’ His finger slips inside my panties, and my legs buckle. ‘Now, about that present…’
Fuck.’ I grip the island harder.
‘No, baby, we’re not going to do that. Unless you count with my fingers.’
‘You are so bad.’ My eyes veer towards the cameras positioned in the corners of each room.
They’re off. They’ve been off since Anthony announced he was working over Christmas and jumped on his private jet to Dubai.
I refuse to give him the satisfaction of watching me spend Christmas Day alone.
How fucking glad am I for that decision.
‘Maybe, but I’m going to make you feel so good.’ His finger slides through my slickness, and the moan that bursts from my mouth is positively animalistic. ‘At least three times.’
‘Why?’ No one ever wanted to get me off before, not really. When Anthony did bother having sex with me, he was a selfish lover. The boyfriend I had before that wasn’t selfish, but he was clumsy. If I happened to get off during his fumbling, it was a bonus.
‘Because the satisfaction of feeling you shatter on my fingers and hear you scream my name is the best fucking gift of all.’ His finger sinks into my centre, and I’m done for. There’s no going back. Hell, from the second he walked in here, this was inevitable. ‘You’re so fucking wet, baby.’
‘You tend to have that effect on me.’
His eyes flare again. ‘Are you always this wet for me?’
‘I was at your parents’ ball.’
‘Fuck, I should have dragged you up to my old bedroom there and then.’ He works me so good with his fingers, pumping them inside of me so deliciously slowly before sliding them out and over my clit, then back in again.
The man is gifted. ‘I thought about it. Thought about stealing you away with me that night, pulling that silk dress up around your waist and seeing the perfection beneath. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to touch you.
To see you.’ His lips catch mine again. His tongue sliding against mine, matching the rhythm of his fingers.
I’m not going to last, but I don’t want this to be over. I tear my mouth from his. ‘So see me then. Take these shorts off. I want you to see me.’
His fingers slow then still, his eyes never leaving mine.
I swallow as he reaches for the waistband of my shorts and tugs them down over my thighs.
He takes a step back as they slide to the floor, hungry eyes drinking in my legs and the white lace between them.
I sidestep, kick off the shorts, and place a finger at my hip bone, hooking it inside my lingerie.
‘What about these? Do you want these off too?’
‘And I thought I was the one giving the gifts today.’ He blows out a long, low breath. ‘Of course I want them off. And the sweatshirt while you’re at it.’
‘We won’t be able to take it back,’ I whisper.
‘I never fucking want to.’ He shakes his head, rubbing his fingers over the stubble dotting his chin.
‘Just this once, okay?’
I watch as his Adam’s apple bobs. ‘Just today,’ he rephrases, strutting forward. He reaches for the hem of my sweatshirt and gently pushes it up and over my head, exhaling slowly, like he’s savouring every second.
‘Fuck. Me.’ He whistles.
‘Careful what you wish for, remember,’ I place my arms up and allow him to tug it over them, watching as he tosses it to the floor. ‘It’s Christmas. Wishes tend to come true this time of year.’
‘That one won’t. Not today. I won’t let it.’ His nostrils flare. ‘But never say never.’ His hands land on my waist, and he hoists me up until my backside is resting on the cold countertop.
‘His greedy eyes peruse my skin, lingering on the only item of clothing left on my body—my bra. I reach round and unhook it, empowered by the weight of his want. I slip the straps down my shoulders, revelling in his undivided attention.
‘Lose it,’ he growls.
‘Yes, sir,’ I make a salute sign and send the lace flying across the kitchen in the process.
‘Fucking hell, Rebekka.’ He pushes between my legs, parting my thighs with his hips as his eyes roam over every inch of me. ‘I knew you were stunning, but fuck, I wasn’t ready for the sheer level of perfection.’
‘How much have you had to drink?’ I tease, glancing at the floor.
‘Don’t use humour to deflect.’ He dips his head to my stomach, running the tip of his tongue from my belly button to the junction between my breasts. ‘That’s my party trick.’
And just like that, it clicks. He’s right. He does that all the time. Is it possible that Dublin’s biggest player is as miserable as me? That he too yearns like I do. Ivy’s words work their way into my brain again.
But where I’ve thrown myself into work, he’s thrown himself into women.
His hot lips trail over my breast, his tongue circles my nipple, teasing me to the brink of oblivion, before trailing back down my stomach then up again to the other breast. It’s heaven.
It’s hell. I need his fingers again, and judging by the glint in his eyes, he knows it.
He straightens up to a standing position, unashamedly drinking in my body before his focus falls to my pussy.
He slides two fingers deep into my core, and my back arches off the island in response.
‘You like that, baby?’ Fire dances in his irises.
I love it,’ I pant.
‘How about this?’ He pumps deeper into me and uses his thumb to stroke my clit.
‘Jesus Fucking Christ!’ My hips grind into his hand.
‘He’s not here, honey.’ A wicked grin curls his lips upwards. ‘It’s just you and me–finally.’
His fingers slow to a stop, and I moan in protest.
‘‘Rian!’
‘Good girl,’ he purrs, fingers pumping again. ‘That’s what I wanted.’ Approval lights his eyes.
‘That feels so good,’ I slur, and this time it has nothing to do with the alcohol and everything to do with the way he’s commanding my body. I rock up into a sitting position, needing to feel his mouth on mine. Our lips collide, hungrily exploring the inside of each other’s mouths.
Every single nerve ending in my body tingles. My orgasm looms–dark, devastating, and unapologetic–just like the man orchestrating it. My thighs are trembling so hard you’d swear I was freezing instead of burning up with the desperate need to explode.
He tears his lips from mine, our eyes locking, and he says, ‘Come for me.’
And I do.
‘Rian,’ I cry, gripping onto his biceps as my core convulses around his fingers, sucking them deeper, squeezing out every drop of pleasure he’s offering me.
‘Good girl,’ his lips are on mine as he swallows the rest of my moans, working me until I’m spent. I slump into his chest, listening to the rapid thudding of his heart, waiting for the world as I know it to stop spinning.
Finally, I pull my face from where it’s buried into his chest. ‘That was the best present anyone ever gave me in my whole life.’
Mischief dances in his eyes. ‘Maybe, but let me give you another one just to be sure.’
‘I couldn’t.’ I shake my head.
‘You can. And you will.’ He positions my legs around his waist and lifts me into his arms as if I’m weightless. ‘You grab the glasses. I want you drinking champagne while I eat you out in front of the fire.’
‘I can categorically tell you, this is the best Christmas ever.’
‘It’s not over yet, sweetheart.’ His hands settle on the base of my spine as he carries me across the penthouse.