Chapter 21
Riley
There's something about being back in the house, despite how it ended last time, that just set my body on fire the second I stepped back inside.
Guilt swam inside of me for a long while once I got started helping him with the cabinets, but then the air changed somehow. It's as if the entire room was charged with electricity despite the fact that we're working by the sunlight streaming through all the open blinds.
My fingertips are like ice, but my body is on fire, the sensual music from my playlist making me feel sexy and damn near feral with need.
I was picturing what happened between Mac and me when I felt the warmth of his body at my back, exactly the same way it happened the last time I was here with him. Only this time there's no food to burn. There's no elderly couple on their way to interrupt. There's no phone call to the fire department.
It's only me and him and this moment, and if I take any guesses of where this is heading by the way his erection is digging into my ass, then I'm going to be a very happy girl very soon.
"Riley," he growls as he rips an earbud from my ear before tossing it recklessly on the counter.
I know where this is heading, but there's still an awkward edge to my emotions with it being broad daylight. Unless one of his neighbors happens to walk up his very long driveway, we have complete privacy, yet it still unnerves me a little to know what's about to happen.
I turn in his arms, my palms flat on his chest as I look up at him. His lips glisten from being against my neck, and despite still being able to feel the sting of his bite, I can't really be bothered by that mark he probably left behind.
"Mac," I say, my fingers curling against his chest as I fight the urge to run my hands lower and unzip his jeans. "Let's go upstairs."
"No," he snaps, his tone sounding as if he's angry that he's attracted to me in the first place .
I swallow, my eyes dropping as I go to take a step back. Maybe it isn't even attraction but opportunity. Maybe he's disgusted with himself for what his body wants.
"Stop," he growls, his tone even more angry. "I don't know what's going through your head right now to make you look so suddenly sad."
"I--"
"No, Riley. Just shut the fuck up."
I open my mouth to speak again, but he jerks down my mask, covering my lips with his hand.
"Don't speak," he says as he inches closer, replacing his hand with his mouth.
I'd like to say I resist him for at least a few seconds, but I know I don't. The warmth of his lips on mine makes me moan into his mouth.
As tender as his kiss is, his hands are frantic as he shoves down the leggings I have on, and I'm a second away from asking just how he plans on making this work because I'll fight him if he tries to lift me to set me on the counter. Before I can formulate the words, he guides us as far away from the damaged cabinets as he can before turning me around, pressing a hand between my shoulder blades, and urging me to lean forward.
"Mac, I—"
The sound of him lowering his zipper makes me snap my lips closed. The only other sound in the room other than our harsh breathing is the crinkle of a condom wrapper. I have to worry about the loss of time because it doesn't seem like enough time passes for him to roll it down his length before the hot head of his cock is pressed exactly where my body aches for him.
My legs are trembling as I angle my body out more, doing my best to give him the access he needs. I nearly crumple to the floor when he presses into me, my body ready for him.
I moan his name and feel his hot breaths through my sweatshirt and Henley as he presses his face into my back, his hip infuriatingly still with himself wedged inside of me. My body stretches to accommodate him, the minor sting of unease the best thing I've felt since the last time he was inside of me.
"You make me fucking crazy," he growls with his face still buried in my clothes. "Ah, fuck."
I moan in tandem when he pulls his hips back, the length of him sliding and teasing every one of my internal nerves before he presses forward again .
"Mac," I groan.
"Brace yourself," he manages before he pulls back and slams forward again, but if it weren't for the grip he has on my hips, I think I would've put my head through the damn wall. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
I nod my head in agreement because it feels so damn good, but I don't think he can delineate between my purposeful motions and the way his unrelenting pounding is making me jolt around.
Electricity runs through my body, the tease of an orgasm threatening to make me scream as it starts low in my gut. Warmth covers me as my body begins to convulse, my core gripping him in pulses as I come. Before the orgasm can even begin to fade away, I'm cursing his existence. It's ridiculous how easily he makes me orgasm when this isn't even supposed to be possible simply by penetration.
Fuck him and his magical dick for getting me addicted when I know he's going to leave me high and dry sooner rather than later. I'm still trying to decide whether I should blame him for giving me the best sex of my life and ruining me for all other men or thanking him for the very same when he shoves all the way inside of me before orgasming himself. The repeated jolts of his thrusts deep inside of me set off a smaller but deliriously good orgasm.
His warm breaths seep through my clothes, coating my sweat-covered skin as my legs really do threaten to give out on me this time.
"Mac," I whisper. "I'm going to fall."
"Not gonna happen," he says as he lifts his face from my back and wraps his arms around my middle, urging me to stand up straight.
We both groan at the feel of him sliding out of me, and I feel like a fool for the reaction until he chuckles, his lips brushing my neck.
"I feel like I attacked you," he says, his tone lighter and more joyful than I can ever recall it being before.
I chuckle as I angle my head to the side, giving him better access to my neck, which he doesn't resist as he simultaneously pulls my leggings back up.
"Come with me," he whispers as he takes a step back and tucks himself away. His hand runs down the length of my arm before he intertwines our fingers.
My legs are wobbly and my knees weak as I allow him to pull me from the kitchen. The stairs seem like more than I'll be able to manage, but somehow, I don't trip on the way up.
He takes the same path he did that first night that I was here after I left the bar with him, putting us right back into his bedroom .
"No," I tell him, digging my feet in when he tries to pull me toward the bathroom.
"What?" he asks as he turns back to face me. "What's wrong?"
"You said there was no power. I'm an adventurous girl, but I draw the line at showering in a freezing room with freezing water."
His laughter is light, and despite feeling annoyed that he'd want me to freeze in a shower, I find myself smiling back at him.
"The upstairs is running on a generator," he explains. "The water is warm, hot even if that's what you want."
I lick at my lips, remembering just how decadent his bathroom is. The next time he gives my hand a little tug, I follow him into the bathroom, watching as he pulls his t-shirt over his head before leaning in and turning on the shower.
My cheeks flame when he unzips his jeans, reaching inside and pulling the used condom from his dick before nonchalantly tossing it in the bathroom trash.
I turn my eyes away from him, knowing he can see the redness in my cheeks, but he doesn't let it just slide by like someone with manners would.
"I just fucked you bent over the counter in the kitchen, and you get all shy about the condom we used?"
Instead of answering, I simply pull my sweatshirt and Henley over my head in one movement before kicking off my boots, hooking my thumbs into my leggings, and sliding them down my legs.
The man has seen me naked several times now, but that still doesn't keep my hands from trembling. I'm trying to act like it's no big deal to strip with him watching me.
Once fully naked, I slide past him and step into the shower, his chuckle following me inside.
It only takes a few moments before he strips down and joins me. What I thought was going to be a quick shower turns into so much more as he steps up to me, wraps his arms all the way around me, and presses his lips to mine.
I cling to him, the kiss reviving every cell in my body and making me want to do something crazy, like having him lift me up so we can go for round two, but that's not reasonable. We'd end up slipping and falling, and then once again, the fire department and paramedics will arrive. I couldn't take the embarrassment of that happening again.
He releases me but doesn't step back. Instead, he grabs my hand and slides it down the front of his body, making his needs known. I don't hesitate to wrap my fingers around his cock, smiling against his neck when he hisses in pleasure.
Three strokes up and down the length of him is all it takes before his own hand is seeking the sensitive parts of my body, and once again, my knees threaten to give out when he slides several fingers inside of me. I whimper, my body aching for him as if it'll never get enough of this attention. I love what he's doing, but I also hate it at the same time.
This is the stuff fairy tales are made of, and I know better than anyone that fairy tales aren't real life, especially for a girl like me.
I swallow down the self-recrimination and do my best to just enjoy this moment rather than focusing on how quickly it'll change.
My body is wound tight, my core already fluttering down the length of his fingers. Although I'm distracted by what he's doing to me, he isn't annoyed. He shifts his hips, fucking himself into my grip when I don't have the wherewithal to move my hand myself.
"Mac," I groan when he adds his thumb into the mix, swirling it around my clit. "Going to come."
"I know, baby. Me too."
In the next breath, my lungs seize, my body seeming to implode for the briefest of seconds before that energy radiates out to tip over every part of my body. Somehow, I manage enough cognizant thought to feel the warmth of his orgasm coat my hip.
My body shudders, my hips shooting backward from too much sensation when he continues to rub that sensitive spot.
He chuckles, the laughter soft and teasing against my skin before his mouth seeks and finds mine. The kiss is slow and languid as if we do it all the time and have for years.
The threat of tears stings my eyes, confusing me. I don't know if I'm emotional from two very spectacular orgasms or if I'm sad that the more I have, the closer I get to the end of whatever this is between us.
Wordlessly, he grabs the shower gel, squeezing some onto his hands before rubbing it into my skin.
I should probably offer to do the same for him, but once I'm rinsed, I step out of the shower, needing just a few breaths to myself. My head is racing with a million thoughts, and it feels too full to keep them to myself.
Within a minute or two, after I've dried myself and I'm reaching for my clothes, he turns the water off and steps out onto the bathmat.
I do my best not to look in his direction, hoping he'll offer me the same courtesy, but resisting the sight of him, water droplets glistening on his skin and traversing the peaks and valleys of his muscles, is simply impossible. The man is utterly delicious, and I have to question his sanity when I see him looking at me much the same way, a hunger in his eyes that never seems to be satiated.
"Why?" I ask as I wrap a towel around my body.
"Why what?" he asks as he reaches for his own towel.
"Why do you always watch me like that?" I say, most of my nerve to have this conversation beginning to slip away.
"Like what?"
I clear my throat, fighting the urge to tell him never mind, but I'm tired of not having answers. "You watch me like you're not satisfied, as if you're wondering if we fuck again if you'll finally get what you need from me."
I pull my eyes from him, unable to face him directly when he calls this entire thing off.
I shake my head, another wave of burning tears threatening behind my eyes, and I hate myself for the weakness that will be displayed to him when the first one falls.
"If you aren't satisfied," I continue. "Then why keep having sex with me?"
His chuckle makes me see red, and if I were dressed, I’d storm out of that damn bathroom and walk right out into the freezing cold with a promise never to set eyes on him again.
"Riley," he says, an unease in his tone.
I clear my throat again, but it does nothing to dislodge the emotion clogging it.
Then his warm hand is on my arm, stopping me from grabbing my clothes and finding another place in the house, one without a witness, to get dressed.
"Riley," he repeats when I keep my eyes downcast.
He pulls in a ragged breath, and it angers me further. As if the man has any right to be annoyed right now.
"It has nothing to do with satisfaction. I'm beyond satisfied. You feel like an addiction at this point, that what we've done is so fucking good, part of me is screaming to stop, that it can't be good for me."
That is not what I thought he was going to say, and the surprise of hearing it forces my eyes to his, but there's no smile on his face. He doesn't seem like he's lying or saying something to try and take the sting out of what I thought he was feeling.
His eyes search mine, but he remains silent for several long beats.
My jaw flexes as I try to think of any reasonable explanation for him wanting me the way he does, and that right there is a red flag on its own. I've worked way too damn hard for me to be questioning my self-worth because of the value I've somehow placed on who he is and what I deserve because of how he looks on the outside.
My confidence is taking a hit because he's paying attention to me and telling me that he wants me, all the while saying he shouldn't.
I don't have a clue on how to deal with this situation, so I do what I've always done.
I walk away, grab my clothes, and leave the room.
I'm not surprised when he doesn't try to stop me.