Chapter 32 More than One Night
More than One Night
— T ODAY —
Ian and I tumble into the room, an entangled mess of kisses and loud pants, but as soon as his fingers move to the short hem of my dress, then squeeze the highest point of my thighs, I flinch, my muscles turning rigid under his touch.
“Okay. Maybe we should stop right here,” he says softly as his hands run up my sides. “And we could just keep all our clothes on and sit down—lie down, even—and kiss a little.” His gaze bounces between my eyes and my lips, as if he’s horny and afraid I’ll bolt again.
“I’m just…” I rub my temple, the tension causing my head to hurt. I don’t understand what’s happening to me. Why every time I come close to having sex with the most perfect man to ever land in front of me, I end up freezing. “I think I’m panicking.”
“That’s a pretty safe bet. Care to elaborate on why, exactly?”
“Because—”
He nods, encouraging me to speak. “Because…”
“I’m afraid that it’ll… suck.”
His smile falls, a single chuckle shaking his chest. “Well, gee, thanks, Amelie.”
“That’s not what I mean, Ian. It has nothing to do with you.” I take his hand in mine. “After Frank, I just can’t go through that again. I spent fifteen years with a man I had boring, average sex with, and I can’t take a single more second being a complacent body for someone else to use.”
His jaw tightens, his shoulders tensing before he entangles his fingers with mine. “I’m not Frank, Amelie. If we ever do have sex, it’ll be great. I wouldn’t have it any other way. And besides, it’s us. Sex between us was great even when we weren’t in the same room.”
“But what if it’s not about him—Frank?” I begin pacing back and forth in front of the bed, my nerves getting the best of me, and I wonder if I even stand a chance. Maybe I’m just too ruined.
“Then who?”
I look into his eyes, wondering if I should say it, only to come to the quick conclusion that if there’s anyone in the world I’d be comfortable discussing this with, it’s Ian. “What if it’s me?”
His shoulders sag, and he shakes his head as a sad expression takes over his features. “Amelie… no, of course not. It’s not you.”
“But what if it is? What if I just can’t enjoy sex? What if I’m frigid and dysfunctional and basic and just… broken?”
He slowly walks toward me. Without saying a word, he wraps his arms around me, the weight of them pressing me against his chest. It immediately soothes me, and, closing my eyes, I lay my head against him and listen to his heartbeat through his sweater.
“Amelie,” he whispers, “even if that were true, if you liked only basic sex or didn’t like sex at all, it wouldn’t mean you’re broken. You’re perfect. But this has never been about you.” He presses a kiss next to my ear, then, in a soft voice, continues: “You want to know what the problem is, beautiful? The problem is that you’ve been used, ignored, and hurt. The problem is that you spent so much time feeling you aren’t enough, that you aren’t worth loving and cherishing, that the people in your life actually made you believe it’s the truth.”
I close my eyes, his sweater in my fists as I hold him tighter.
“But it’s not the truth.” He kisses the same spot beside my ear over and over again. “And if it takes me the rest of my life to show you that, that’s what I’ll do. We’ll have our one night together in twenty years, if that’s how long it takes you to understand.” He clears his voice. “I mean, I’m not encouraging us to wait two decades, but, you know…”
God, this man adores me. Reveres me. He’s freaking smitten, one-night stand or not. Though I can’t take another man ignoring my needs in the bedroom, being afraid Ian will be one of them is downright ridiculous.
Smiling against the soft cashmere, I nod. “You might not have to wait that long,” I whisper as I look up, meeting his gaze.
He tucks some hair behind my ear. “Well, sex is off the table tonight. Let’s take things slowly, and whenever you…”
I kiss the corner of his lips, my hands running along his chest and around his neck.
“…feel like we should…”
I kiss him again, this time nipping his bottom lip with my teeth.
In a lower voice, he goes on, “…r-revisit the topic, then we can…”
At the next kiss, his hand grips my ass, pulling me closer, and mine travels underneath his sweater, feeling the corded muscles and smooth skin heave under my touch. “Ian, please, fuck me.”
He groans, then takes my mouth with his, his fingers holding on to the small of my back tighter until my dress crumples up in his fist. “Can I?”
“Yeah.” His mouth presses against my throat, little gasps coming out of me when his tongue traces down the side of my neck.
“Just to be clear: you’re okay with me taking your dress off.”
I purse my lips and, holding myself back, look into his dubious eyes. We definitely need to fix this before we do anything at all. “Ian, I know I’ve been acting a little crazy, but… please don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Don’t treat me like I’ll shatter if you do something wrong. Don’t hold back or treat me differently or be delicate or—” When he wiggles his brows playfully, I chuckle. “No, I just mean—”
“I know what you mean,” he whispers as he grips my hips. His teeth nibble my earlobe, a soft sigh escaping me at the light sting. “You’re right. You’re not fragile, Amelie.” He steps forward until the backs of my knees touch the mattress. “You’re starved.”
I nod frantically as he looks down at my dress, eyes flaring, and once his lips crash against mine, his fingers tug on the fabric. We pause the kiss as he slides my dress over my head, and as the cold air hardens my nipples, I’m suddenly aware I’m completely naked except for the long socks. No bra, and he’s still got my panties. I’m naked .
And shaved, thankfully.
“Amelie…” he softly sighs as his hand traces my chain all the way down between my breasts. “You’re beautiful.”
He leans forward, his lips pressing my shoulder, then my chest. His hot, wet mouth wraps around one of my nipples, and, clutching his hair, I let him lower me onto the bed.
As I grip the edge of the mattress, he kneels on the floor before me, his hands softly moving up my ankles, my shins, then my knees, pulling my socks off, first one, then the other, kissing both my thighs, and I’m pretty sure my heart is beating so fast that he can hear it from there. Can he also tell just how wet I am? Because I can feel it dripping down my thigh, probably onto his sheets. Oh, God. Can one be too wet? Maybe that’s what happens when you don’t have sex for a long time. Will he think it’s weird? Will he think it’s disgusting?
His eyes shoot to my face. “Amelie.”
“I—I’m fine.”
“No you’re not.” He continues kissing my thighs, then softly biting before passing his warm, wet tongue on my sensitive skin. “How about, instead of lying, you voice your concerns?”
My ovaries dance the waltz. He cares . I don’t know why I need to keep being reminded of it, but does it really matter? He gets it, and he’s not here to use me, to take his orgasm and go. He wants me to enjoy it, and he won’t continue until he makes sure I do. “I’m just afraid I’m a little too… excited ,” I explain as I quickly glance down.
His eyes follow mine as his hands stroke my outer thighs up to my hips. “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” I say on a breath.
His throat works as he looks up at me. “Let me see.” With his chest pounding under his sweater and his lips parted, he looks as tense as a bowstring. “Please,” he continues in a deep, raspy voice, “spread your legs for me. I need to see how wet you are.”
When I nod, his hands lightly tug my knees apart, and I let him. His eyes roll down, and, releasing a quick breath, his shoulders drop slightly. “God, yes. Look at you, dripping for me.”
“Ian,” I gasp as he sticks out his tongue and licks higher up my inner thigh. My eyes close, goose bumps breaking out on my skin and my fingers tightening in the sheets on either side of me. With his mouth so close to the mark and his hot breath fanning over my drenched skin, pressure builds up in my stomach as if he’s doing much more than teasing me. “I—” I gasp at the contact of his stubble against my skin. “I need you.”
“Hmm.” His teeth pinch my flesh. “Show me where you want me.” When I only stare at him, his fingers entangle with mine, and he brings them to the back of his head with a lascivious smile. “Show me, Amelie.”
He pulls me to the edge of the mattress, and I’m splayed out in front of him, trembling as I guide him closer. Once his lips meet my slick skin, I moan, then moan louder as his tongue peeks out and sweeps through me, my body squirming. He smiles, then slides his hand up my thigh to grab my hip, his mouth wrapping around my clit and sucking.
“Oh—oh my God,” I breathe, shifting forward to give him better access. Each of his strokes sends my hips bucking against his mouth, my eyes rolling to the back of my head, my mouth opening with needy whimpers. It’s like my brain has been dipped in sugar and my body is turning liquid, until eventually I can’t hold myself up any longer, and I fall back against the mattress.
He hooks my legs over his shoulders, flattening his tongue and lapping all the way across my slit. “Your taste.” He inhales deeply. “God, you smell so fucking good.”
“Ian,” I murmur as I pull his hair to guide him closer. “Please.”
“Don’t rush me, Amelie.” He teases my clit again and again. “I’ve waited a whole year. We’re taking our time.”
He rolls his tongue up and down leisurely, his fingers tightening around my hips every time my back arches and my feet press against his back.
“I’m—it’s so good, so—” I swing my hips, rushing toward the orgasm Ian is keeping out of my reach. His tongue is sinful, jolting against my clit with erotic wet noises. It’s so unfair, after how long I’ve waited, that the man who can definitely give me pleasure would decide to measure it out.
“Relax, beautiful.” His tongue pushes and releases in quick surges against my clit, my legs shaking against his shoulders as the sheets crumple in my fists. I need to find something to hold me anchored, but as my forehead glistens with sweat, and pressure builds in my stomach, I can feel my control being swept away. I can feel myself flying.
His finger pushes against me, then slides inside, thrusting in and out until he rubs a spot that makes my eyes cross. It’s my undoing. My whines turn into begging, and, squeezing his head with my thighs, I go under. “Don’t stop—don’t do—” Anything different is what I meant to say, but an orgasm bursts through my body, my pussy clenching around his finger, against his mouth. My muscles tense up and relax in sweet, demolishing waves for so long it’s like it’ll never stop.
When it wears down, my whole body seems made of rubber. His hands stroke my thighs, his lips brushing my skin softly. Wiping my forehead, I look down at him. He’s smiling—not smug, just pleased. And he should be.
“Watching you come is…” He shakes his head, a hungry expression on his face, then his mouth is dancing with mine again as he leans forward. “If I were keen to share, people would pay for a ticket to watch.” Dragging his fingers up, he taps my bottom lip. Once my mouth is open, his fingers slide in, slick in my orgasm. I taste myself on him, my tongue swirling around his fingers as he exhales. “But this show is only for me, isn’t it?”
I nod. I can still feel my climax tingling through me, my heart beating fast as he removes his fingers and I catch my breath. “You made me come.”
“It wasn’t that difficult either. Whoever failed before must have not spent more than two minutes trying.”
“Ha-ha.”
“I mean it,” he says with a chuckle. “Look.” He stands, then grips my ass and slides me across the bed. Once he kneels between my legs, I almost come all over again. He’s so hot, all dressed in his blue sweater, with his jeans barely containing his erection, while I’m naked and undone in front of him.
“This is your favorite,” he says. He leans down and presses his tongue against my clit, swiping through me and sucking the endless flow of pleasure. Once again his fingers grasp the backs of my thighs and his shoulders push my knees apart. “Oh—okay. You’re right, that’s my—”
He lets my legs go and pushes his finger inside as I jolt. “And this”—he rubs his finger again and again against the same spot until my hips jerk up and I cry out—“this is your G-spot, beautiful Amelie,” he says with shallow breaths.
His mouth wraps around my clit again, and everything turns dark as my eyes close and my fingers bury themselves in his hair.
I catch my breath from my second orgasm of the night as I watch Ian, still dressed, still crouched between my legs. I’ve officially been doing sex all wrong until today.
“What are you doing?” I ask when the tickle of his lips turns into a light sting on my inner thigh. “You can’t feed off humans without asking for consent, Dracula.”
He lets go for a moment as he looks into my eyes. “I’m giving you a hickey.”
“Why?” I giggle as he continues sucking, then I let my head drop. I guess he’ll tell me once he’s done.
Not even a minute later, he sets my legs down and lies on top of me, holding himself up on his elbow. “So that you’ll have a mark from me. One only you can see.”
His soft sweater presses against my hot skin as his erection rests on my waist, and I trail my hands down his firm body, then unbutton his jeans. “I’m sorry I made this so difficult,” I whisper. I feel so silly now. Of course sex with Ian would be amazing. We’ve only just begun, and it’s already the best sex I’ve ever had in my life.
Smiling, he kisses me. “Are you referring to the last few days, or the year before that?”
“I take the apology back.”
He rises to his knees between my legs, hands clenched on the sides of his sweater. “Can I take this off, or will you freak out again?”
No, I need him to take his clothes off. I need to see his tattoos, trace them all with my tongue, bite those thick thighs and arms and those delicious pecs. I want his skin on mine, our sweat mixing, our breaths scorching each other’s body.
I pull myself up and unzip his jeans. His sweater comes off, so I push him off the bed and pull his jeans down.
Fuck, this man. He’s perfect. His diet of cheap snacks and fork-free meals works wonders on him, because as much as my eyes scan him all over, I can’t find a spot that isn’t toned and hard. Those arms—I want them moving me from one position to the other. I want his wide chest against mine as he presses me on the mattress; I want to hold on to his neck as he plunges inside me and I bite his shoulder to smother my cries.
When his lips move, I force my brain to reconnect. “What?”
“Ask me again.” His eyes flicker as he touches his erection over his briefs. “Beg me, Amelie.”
What—oh. I bring my hands to his perfect chest and move my mouth to his, our eyes on each other’s. “Fuck me, Ian, please,” I whisper.
He lets out a strangled noise as I’m settled onto the bed, his body trapping me under him. “Yes, Amelie.”
Locking my arms behind his neck, I spread my legs wider to make space for him, his hard cock rubbing against me from beneath a thin layer of cotton. Our conversation about dirty talk comes back to me. What was it he told me to say? “Use me as your dirty little fuck toy.”
“Fuck, yes,” he murmurs. His lips take mine, and he rolls us around until I’m on top of him. He sits up on the edge of the bed, mouth pressing on my neck and my chest reverently, like he’s softly marking important spots on a treasure map. “I’ll fuck you all night long, Amelie. I’ll watch you take it from every angle and learn all the things that drive you crazy.”
I whine as I rub myself against him, the friction creating a wet patch on his briefs. I can’t even care. I crave him. At this very moment, I’d watch the world fall apart to feel him inside me. “Please, take them off.”
He pulls his briefs down, my eyes catching a glimpse of his erection before he distracts me with a kiss, and the warm skin of his shaft presses against my core. “Let me grab the condoms,” he says, pulling me up gently.
“No, I’m on the pill,” I tell him. “And I’ve been tested after him .” He nods. “What about you?”
“All clear on my side.” He leans back a little, his eyes studying mine. “Are you sure you want to—”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” He softly blows a breath against my neck. “Lift your hips for me, beautiful,” he whispers then, his lips only barely open. As I hold myself on his shoulders, the tip of his cock lines up against me, a soft sigh leaving me on contact. I clench around nothing, and as I push myself down, he stretches me deliciously with his erection. “Slow down: we’re not in a rush.”
“Speak for yourself,” I say, my voice unsteady.
He smiles triumphantly as he grips my hips and holds me in place. “I speak for you, too, tonight, Amelie.” Then he lowers me, his jaw clenching as he groans. “Tonight, you do as I say. You’ll savor every inch of my cock, every slow push, every filthy word I whisper in your ear. For as long as we both can take it.”
I clamp around him as he fills me some more.
“Show me you understand,” he says, letting go of my hips.
I fight every single one of my instincts telling me to hang on for dear life and shove myself down and toward pleasure, and instead gently lower myself a few inches.
“That’s it.” A breath trembles out of his lips as his eyelids flutter. “Good—more than good. Perfect. You’re my perfect girl.”
“I am,” I whine as my head desperately bobs up and down.
“Yes, you are.” He kisses me, his arm looped around my back as he lets me descend onto him a little more, then a little more until I’m sitting on his legs. He’s crammed into me so deep, we might be fused as one now. “God, I knew you were made for me.”
Stealing kisses, I move up and down, drenching him with my recent orgasms. He feels so fucking wonderful, there’s quickly a familiar twist in my stomach. Looking into his eyes is the best part yet, because he loves it just as much as I do. His bottom lip disappears under his teeth, his jaw flexing as if he’s struggling to patiently savor it just as much as I am.
His hands cup my ass, pushing and pulling along with my movements just as his face falls against the crook of my neck. He mumbles words against my skin, but I grasp only my name before he spreads loving kisses against my shoulder.
“I don’t think one time will be enough,” he says once he lifts his head again.
Whining, I nod. He won’t find any argument here, because if I could, I’d stick to this very position, this very moment in time, forever. “More than once. All night long.”
“More than one night,” he whispers.
His eyes melt into mine as I squeeze him inside, his body flinching as he shoves me all the way down. It hits differently, maybe because I know I made him lose control, maybe because of what he said. It might not mean anything, of course. Yet it feels like it means something. It feels like it means everything, and everything is what I want.
His hands move to my forehead, gently pushing some hair away. Tightening my arms around his neck, I trace the shape of his jaw with my tongue, his skin pleasantly salty. I look down between us, at our bodies writhing together in a dance that builds up my pleasure slowly and surely. It’s like climbing up step by step and getting higher by the second, not knowing when the release will hit.
“You’re a fucking goddess, Amelie.” His eyes burn deeply into mine—they’re famished, the center of all his need, then his hot and warm mouth wraps around my nipple as his cheeks hollow out and he sucks.
“Ian!” I can feel it getting closer, the orgasm building up in my stomach with every new pump of his cock. “Ian, I—”
His hand slips between us, his finger rubbing my clit. “Come, beautiful Amelie. All over me. Don’t hold back.”
I don’t think I could if I wanted to as my eyes cross and my stomach clenches. His fingers skillfully work me up, rubbing in a circular motion that’s just the right speed, his thrusts maintaining the same delicious pace. When his lips find mine, I drown my moans against his mouth until it hits. Then, as everything melts down, I can’t kiss him back anymore. Only arch my back and curl my toes and desperately call his name.
“Holy—” His breath hitches, his fingers digging into my hips. “I’m—I need to—can’t—”
When I give him a crazed nod, his hands push me down and up, his hold so strong, he’s probably bruised the skin of my hips. His eyes roll back as he moans, and it’s the most delicious noise. Especially when he repeats my name, and I feel his orgasm release, hot and dense inside me, one gorgeous spill followed by another.
“So. Fucking . Perfect,” he mumbles as his shoulders relax with the last of his stuttering thrusts. He kisses my cheek, my nose, the side of my head. Through it all, his eyes remain closed, his hands traveling up my spine and to the back of my hair, holding me in place. “Perfect and mine.”
“Yes,” I softly say as I rest my forehead against his.
“Holy shit, Amelie.” His eyes open, sweet and blue and so full of affection, they overwhelm me in the best possible way. “I planned to do a lot more, you know.”
“Did you?” I ask. My muscles are stiff, the sweat sticking to my skin, making me shiver as my body cools down.
“Mm-hmm.” Tightening his hold on my hair, he grins with self-satisfaction. “I’m hardly discouraged, but I was planning to do more before needing some recovery time.”
With a chuckle, I reach out for his face, but when I lean forward for a kiss, his hand keeps me in place, my hair lightly pulled back.
“Amelie,” he says in a rush, his tongue wetting his lips. “The way you feel when you come with my cock deep inside you…” He leans forward to whisper in my ear. “You make me powerless. You own me.”
My fingers squeeze his shoulders.
“Look what you did to me.”
He gently pulls my hair until my face is tilted down; then, with his other hand, he maneuvers my hips up. His cock slides out, quickly followed by gushes of his cum. I whimper, the sight of it so erotic and filthy, I could start again this minute.
“You like that?” he asks in a breathy voice as more of his pleasure spills out of me. His fingers slide through my folds, all the way to my clit, and my body arches as I gasp. “You like it when I fill you up, beautiful?”
“Yes,” I whimper.
“Good. I like it too.” He smiles, then whispers, “How about I clean you up in the shower, then I throw you back on this bed and mess you up all over again?”
I nod, my heart drumming, and force myself not to ask him if cleaning up is really that necessary.
“Okay.” He helps me up, pulling me close for a kiss, then a second one, then a third one that turns into a full make-out session. Slowly, we make our way into the bathroom, and once we’re both in the small shower and under a jet of hot water, his hands rest on my back, mine on his chest. His hands cup my cheeks, my hands grasp his arms, and there’s a soft look in his eyes that makes me shiver. His hair is darker, sticking to his forehead as it becomes wet, and in the warm fog, covered by droplets of water, he’s as gorgeous as ever.
For a second, as he rubs his thumb on my wet skin and smiles, I think I hear him say it. Say that he loves me, that he treasures me, that he’ll never let me go.
But he doesn’t, and just as beautifully as it appeared, his smile tragically dies. “Amelie, I…”
My hands flinch away as my heart squeezes.
He’s about to reject me. He’ll say that though the sex was amazing—and it undoubtedly was for both of us—it can’t happen again, and what he said about wanting it to be more than one night was just the result of his passion.
It’ll break my heart. I knew it was a lie when I told him I could handle a night of casual sex with him, of course. But I figured something was better than nothing. And it was, except that now he’ll…
“Hey, hey.” His fingers graze my neck. With a gentle pull, our bodies stick together again and my forehead drops against his perfect pecs as tears run down my face and mix with the water. It’s not fair that I’d start crying, that I’d make him feel guilty for doing what he said he would and giving me what he promised. But I can’t stop.
The thought that this will never happen again is the final blow—the blow that has my spark fading into nothingness. It’s the final confirmation that Ian is another thing I’ve lost.
“Why are you crying, beautiful?”
“Because you’re about to dump me,” I whisper.
His arms tighten around me, his lips planting kisses on the top of my head. “No, Amelie. No dumping, I promise.”
Daring to look up at his face, I see the sincerity of his words, the gravity of his gaze. Maybe he’s not about to dump me, but he has something to say. I can see it. “Then what is it?” I breathe.
He swallows, doubt moving through his eyes. As if he’s considering whether he truly should say whatever is on his mind. In a second, my fear ripples, my mind zeroing on the one, most terrifying possibility.
What if he asks about my restaurant? What if he figures out there’s a secret I’ve been keeping from him, and it involves his father?
“I think… I think I need to know about Frank. I need to know what happened.”
Oh. Frank. That’s it—he just wants to know about my ex. I let out a deep sigh. Though it’s not exactly my favorite topic, he deserves to get the full story, and I’m just so relieved I get to keep my secret buried for another day. If I can help it, I’ll hide it forever.
When I look up at the dark blue spots in his eyes, they look like deep oceans surrounded by shallow waters. “All right, so the last time you and I talked—”
“Please, spare me the painful recap. Just tell me what happened after.”
“That’s when everything went down,” I explain as the water trickles down our bodies and steam fills the room. “On the day of my wedding.”