Chapter 6
chapter six
Doll Parts – Hole
JUSTIN
In the far reaches of his mind, Justin realized that his uncertainty about getting involved with Lainey had been completely swallowed by desire. Vulnerability, something he’d never felt with another woman, had been overtaken by need.
Overwhelming, undeniable need.
Laughter and voices echoed in the distance, a group calling to one another as they passed.
Stepping back, he let her slide slowly down his body. “Let’s go.”
She clung to him even after her feet touched the ground, her smoky gaze searching his. “Where?”
Leaning in for one last kiss, he whispered, “My house is close. And there’s still the matter of that drafting table.”
Her shoulders relaxed, and Justin worked hard to hide his smile. She’d been afraid he was going to refuse her. He might be twisted up over the past—tied in an impeccably loathsome emotional knot—but he wasn’t that troubled.
Glancing over his shoulder, he pulled her into the night, never once thinking of letting her go. They exchanged no words during the three-block walk, their pace somewhere between a New York stride and a racehorse’s sprint. The heat between them shimmered—pure, rich, and exactly as he remembered.
And just as potent.
He wondered what it was about her that wormed past his defenses to settle, dogged and unshakable, beneath his skin. Maybe it was that she’d seen him at his most exposed. Bruised by his father’s cruelty, tangled up inside.
And she’d loved him anyway.
Her own family life had been challenging, to say the least, and he suspected they understood each other in ways he hadn’t yet fully grasped—let alone felt—with anyone outside his brothers.
He halted in front of his house, watching the moonlight play across her face, crystal bursts catching in her hair and glinting in her steel-gray eyes. “You’re beautiful, Lainey Prescott. More, even, than in my dreams. I’ve wanted this, you , for so damned long, I’m almost scared to believe it’s finally happening.”
A serene, certain smile curved her lips.
Without a word, she took his hand and led him home.
Patience gone, he shoved her against the door as it clicked shut behind them. “I’m not promising to be gentle,” he whispered into the curve of her neck.
“Take this off,” she said, fumbling with his shirt. “ Off .”
They backed across the foyer, stumbling in their rush to stay connected and strip at the same time. His loafers, jeans, and T-shirt hit the floor. Lainey braced against the wall and wiggled out of her dress, his eyes tracking every movement as it pooled at her feet. The black lace bra and matching thong were new, expensive—and worth every penny when his expression shifted from calm to crazed in a flash.
She was in his arms before she could draw another breath, legs wrapped around his waist, hands gripping his back. His lips closed around her nipples, dampening lace and skin that had been aching for his touch.
She caught a glimpse of his art studio as they stumbled into the room. Canvases, two easels, brushes of various sizes, and the acrid scent of acrylics. He set her on the drafting table she’d fantasized about and popped the clasp on her bra. Reckless desire drummed through her as his mouth skimmed her ribs, her belly, pausing at the edge of her thong.
His gaze locked with hers as he caught the thin strip at her hip in his teeth. “Yes?” he whispered, the question a sizzling streak across her thigh.
Lainey lifted her hips. Yes .
His eyes closed on a groan, pulse pounding with each unsteady breath as he dragged the thong down her legs, letting the scrap of lace fall to the floor. Then he looked up at her, fully aware of the raw intent in his gaze. The promise . The kind no inexperienced seventeen-year-old boy could have offered her.
Justin gripped her waist, pulling her forward until she was close to slipping off the table. “You are so beautiful, Lain. And I want you.” His hands trembled slightly as they moved over her skin, hunger coiled tight in his gut. She was right there, open to him, and he didn’t want to waste a second. “Fortunately, I do my best work here, sweetheart. Want to see?”
She dragged her foot along the bulge straining against his black boxer briefs. “So this is your creative space,” she murmured. “I’m a big fan of…inspired work.”
Gently spreading her legs, he kissed the inside of her thigh, nudging her foot away from his cock. “There’s time for me later, Lain. This is your fantasy, remember?”
Then he lowered his mouth to her, and everything else ceased to matter.
She arched into his touch as his fingers danced along the moist seam of her sex and his hot breath followed. She sank her hands in his hair, at first to cautiously guide, then to urge . With a throaty moan, he lingered, whispering his lips across her clit. Teasing, tormenting. A delicate dance, when she wanted rough play.
She looped her leg over his shoulder, pulling him in closer. “Harder, Just, more .”
He hummed low in his throat, the sound thick with gratifying torment. “You taste like heaven,” he murmured, tongue toying with the swollen nub, lighting her up inside. Waves of bliss rolled through her as he sucked, and she shivered. “That’s it. You’re going to come so hard for me.”
Making good on that vow, his fingers delved, one sliding inside as he leaned into the assault, driving her to the brink. “Not enough,” he whispered, perhaps to himself, before capturing her clit with his lips—a forceful move that had her lifting off the table, seeing stars, wondering if she should warn him she was close.
But he knew, working steadily, his focus solely on her.
He only paused to murmur delicious, dirty promises against her thigh while he stroked, while he licked, while he took her apart. Telling her how thoroughly he was going to fuck her when he was done. How he’d never desired anyone as much as he desired her . How she was the woman he dreamed of.
For the first time in forever, Lainey felt cherished, wanted, alive .
With her release circling, she collapsed to the table, her body curving, sending his finger deeper, her cries echoing through the room and circling back to enclose them in a web of passion.
And still, he devoured.
The orgasm ripped through her, and there was nowhere to go but straight into the spiral of pleasure. Gasping, she tried to roll away, wordlessly telling Justin—because speech had abandoned her—that she was shattering from the inside out.
“Stay with me,” he said, blowing a teasing breath across her clit that she felt all the way to her toes. Though he continued thrusting, her pussy helplessly clenching around him as sensation consumed her. “I’ll back off a little, but let it ride.”
Closing her eyes, she dropped her arms to her sides, releasing him. Letting pleasure—just as he’d asked—take over. Let it ride.
It was the most glorious oral experience of her life.
Who knew a body could sing ?
When her heartbeat slowed and her mind returned, she blinked to find Justin standing between her legs, his gaze scorching as he studied her like a masterpiece in his gallery.
He brought his hand to his nose, breathed her in, and whispered, “Come here.”
My God, the deadly look on his face . “Just, I can’t move right now. I’m surprised I can speak. I’m fairly certain I can’t walk .”
His lips quirked in a fast grin. Stepping out of his briefs, he dropped to a squat, digging through his jeans. She rose onto her elbow to take in the view. The trail of dark hair running from his sternum to his navel was mesmerizing, as were the taut muscles in his abdomen, flexing with each movement.
And that tattoo, something she hadn’t known she liked until now.
When he found what he was looking for, Justin shot her a pleased smile and lifted the condom like a prize. Opening the packet, he gave his cock a teasing stroke before rolling it on.
“Where?” she asked, boneless, legs trembling.
His molten gaze locked with hers as he leaned in, lifting her high against his chest. He seized her lips, his tremors rippling through her, setting her aflame. “I’m going to have you in my bed. More than once. But right now, this minute, I need you here.” He grinned, a roguish flash of confidence. “And I think you need me.”
Halting by the fireplace, he let her slide down his body, his hands steadying her until she found her balance. Then he turned, flipped a switch, and the gas logs roared to life.
She tilted her head, smile ready. “Are you seducing me, Justin True?”
“You got there first. Thirteen years ago.” Cradling her face, he leaned in to kiss her—fully, gently—pulling her into his body, into his soul, until she feared she’d never find her way out.
They sank to their knees, hands and mouths learning each other all over again, a slow, reverent rediscovery. Around them, longing spun a cocoon of intimacy so fragile and spellbound, it felt like it might vanish if they moved too fast.
Justin laid her back on the rug, bracing on his forearms as he settled over her. His body hovered above hers, the heat between them a living thing, pulsing, undeniable. But he hesitated, gaze locked on hers, searching for something—confirmation, courage, maybe both.
Why did she have to love a deep thinker?
Most men would have taken what was offered and called it enough. But he’d always wanted more. Her truth, her surrender. Her love .
“I’m here,” she murmured and glided her hands down his back to his hips.
“I know.” A bead of sweat rolled down his temple, and Lainey realized he was holding back.
When the weight of this moment meant the world to her, too.
Needing him to understand, she locked her legs around his and arched into him. Inviting madness.
“I get your game,” he murmured, his voice rough, his breath hot against her cheek. Positioning himself, no hesitate this time, he drove into her in a single, brutal thrust.
Then he found a rhythm—deliberate, punishing, and meant to ruin her.
Ruin them both .
She matched him with everything she had, their bodies perfectly in sync.
She drank in the sight of him rising above her, the hard lines of his face drawn with focus, and tucked it away like something sacred.
His lips parted on a ragged groan, the sound raw and unrestrained. His shoulders and biceps flexed, knuckles white as his fists clenched at his sides.
“I’m not going to last long,” he whispered, sliding his hand between them, his thumb teasing her still-sensitive clit. He caught her gasp before it escaped, swallowing it in a kiss that was as fierce as it was tender.
Lainey pressed a moan into the moist skin of his jaw. “Where did you learn this?”
Justin laughed, a first for her during sex, his dimple flaring to life. “Carnegie Hall.”
The sharp sting of jealousy was trampled by desire. His hands, his lips, his teeth stole every thought until all that remained was sensation—nerve endings firing, her body no longer her own but something wild and alive beneath him.
She wanted. She ached. For him. Only him.
When he leaned in, sucking her nipple between his lips, her world began to shatter.
Again .
Sensing she was ready to fall, he pulled her close, their slick skin pressed together, moisture pooling along his chest and neck. His breath came in quick, unsteady bursts, his body shaking with restraint. He groaned low, whispering words that held no meaning, and she answered with unspoken yearning, a language all their own.
“Now,” she breathed, and kissed him like it was the only way to survive. Hungry, aching, desperate for relief. For release. For him .
“This, Lain, this .” Anchoring her leg high on his hip, he thrust into her, setting a deep, relentless rhythm that erased the space between their bodies, their hearts. There was no room left for anything but that pure, blinding connection.
He waited for her, and the moment she cried out, her body clenching around him, he dropped his forehead to her shoulder with a muttered oath, pleasure crashing through him.
His trembling hands rose, framing her face as he kissed her—gentle, tender, a moment of pure, final bliss. They shook together, gasping, the air around them thick with the scent of sex. She gripped his back, his shoulders, vision swimming as pinpricks of black danced at the edges, unable to hold on to anything but the feel of him. The now .
“Jesus,” he whispered, his head rising to block the moonlight spilling through a break in the curtains. Firelight shimmered across his face and chest, revealing a man who was disheveled, breathless, endearingly undone. He looked like something out of a dream. Almost too wonderful to believe.
He hung his head, the weight of his body pressing her into the floor, and the rush of love that followed hit so fast and deep it nearly undid her.
“Are you okay?” he finally asked, his voice frayed.
“I’m better than okay.” Her body pulsed in places long neglected, long forgotten . Joy washed over her, a river surging in full force. She glided her lips down his throat, over his jaw, needing to touch .
It was the only way to stop herself from saying what pressed at the edge of every breath. That she loved him, had always loved him. But instinct told her he wouldn’t want to hear it. Not now. He wouldn’t trust the words.
Shouldering the sweat from his brow, Justin’s gaze swept over her, his golden eyes darkening with desire all over again. “Hungry?”
“Yes,” Lainey said, curling her hand around the nape of his neck and bringing his mouth to hers.
For tonight—maybe only tonight—Justin True was hers.
And she wasn’t about to waste the gift.
“But not for food.”