Chapter Nine #2
I sucked in a breath, unable to process how he knew these things about me. How could he? We'd only just met, yet he spoke as if he'd been studying me for years.
“I'm leaving tonight,” he said suddenly, his hand sliding down to cup my jaw. “I have a fight in Vegas. I’ll be back Monday.”
The thought of him leaving made panic flutter in my chest. I didn’t want him to leave, to be so far away from me. I peered up at him, needy and hopeful, when I felt his hands move to slowly cradle my waist.
Then, in a fluid motion, Connor pulled me onto his lap so easily, as if I were weightless. I gasped, my thighs now straddling his powerful ones, my robe sliding dangerously high on my thighs.
His hands, big and warm, swallowed my waist, holding me firmly in place. I stared at him, wide-eyed and trembling, my hands instinctively braced against his firm pectorals.
Through his thin shirt, I could feel the rapid beat of his heart and the solidity of his muscles. He was so big, so overwhelmingly masculine, that I felt tiny and fragile in comparison. My gaze dropped to his lips, a silent plea leaving my throat.
Connor seemed to understand too well.
One hand carefully tangled in my messy curls, tilting my head back as his mouth claimed mine in a kiss that was nothing like the ones in my romance novels. This was possession, pure and real, his lips demanding and insistent as they moved against mine.
I melted into him, a slight sound escaping my throat that seemed to drive him wild.
His tongue licked over my lips, pushing in like the gentle giant he was.
He tasted like coffee and something darker, more addictive.
I clutched at his broad shoulders, trying to anchor myself as the world tilted on its axis.
“Good girl,” he murmured against my mouth, the praise making me whimper. “You’re always such a good girl.”
His hands slid under my robe, gripping my hips before skimming up my sides until his thumbs grazed the undersides of my breasts through my thin top. My stomach fluttered, and I arched into his touch without thinking, my body responding to him on instinct.
“Connor,” I gasped as his mouth left mine to trail soft, burning kisses down my throat. His stubble scratched against my skin, making me shiver and reminding me of the danger he posed.
“I’ve been dreaming of this,” he growled against my throat, nipping lightly where my pulse raced. “Of you like this, saying my name so sweetly. You’re driving me crazy, sweet girl.”
His words, tender and possessive, made me press closer, rocking slightly against the big bulge I could feel beneath his sweatpants. My hands found their way under his shirt, tracing the ridges of his abs, feeling the muscles I'd only seen in photos.
“Can I?” I started to ask, tugging at the hem of his shirt.
Before I could finish, Connor had yanked it over his head, tossing it aside like paper. I stared, momentarily forgetting how to breathe.
His chest was a work of art—broad and powerful, solid and bare of the tattoos on his arms. Dark hair dusted his pecs, trailing down his sculpted abs in a line that made my mouth water.
“See something you like?” His voice was smug, but the tension in his jaw told me he was barely holding onto his control.
I nodded, too overwhelmed to form words. My fingers traced a thorny vine that wrapped around his huge bicep, marveling at how the black ink contrasted with his skin, tracing it to his collarbone.
“Your turn,” he breathed, tugging at the loosened tie of my robe. His eyes asked a question, waiting for my permission despite the hunger evident in every line of his body.
I hesitated momentarily—no man had ever seen me like this, and I was suddenly painfully aware of all my flaws. But the way Connor looked at me, like I was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, gave me courage.
I nodded, and he untied my robe with a controlled gentleness that left me tingling, pushing it off my shoulders until it pooled at my hips.
My tank top was thin and white, leaving little to the imagination.
His eyes darkened as they raked over me, lingering on the peaks of my hardened nipples visible through the fabric.
“Fucking perfect,” he growled, large hands spanning my waist. “Every inch of you was made for me.”
I blushed furiously, crossing my arms over my chest instinctively. “I?—”
“No.” His voice was firm but gentle as he caught my wrists, pulling them away. “You’re not allowed to hide from me, Sierra. Ever.”
The pure possession and need in his tone made me brave enough to meet his gaze again, and the raw hunger I saw there stole my breath. Connor's thumbs traced slow circles over my hips, each touch sending sparks skittering across my skin.
“I want to see you,” he said, his voice rougher now. “All of you. But only if you want that too.”
He was looking at me like I was his entire world, and he was scared he’d burn me.
I swallowed hard, my anxiety threatening to overwhelm me. But beneath it was something stronger, desire, hot and insistent.
“I want that,” I whispered. “But I've never… I mean, I don't really—” I stuttered, trying to get out the embarrassing truth.
He soothed me gently. “You've never been with anyone.”
It wasn't a question, but I nodded anyway, mortified by my inexperience. I was twenty-three, for god's sake. Most women my age weren't still virgins. But between my anxiety and my tendency to live in fictional worlds rather than the real one, I'd never found the right moment or the right person.
Connor's expression softened further, one hand coming up to cup my cheek. “We don't have to do anything you're not ready for, sweet girl, but know that being your first is all I could ever ask for.”
The tenderness in his voice nearly made me tear up. This man, this beast of a man who could break me without trying, was handling me with the care reserved for precious things.
“I want you,” I admitted, the words falling from my lips before I could stop them. “I've been thinking about you since the book signing. About your hands and your voice and?—”
He cut me off with another kiss, this one deeper, hungrier. His hands slid down to cup my bottom, squeezing gently before lifting me effortlessly and repositioning us so I was lying beneath him on the couch.
He hovered above me, supported on his forearm and backrest to keep from crushing me with his weight. The new position made me feel so small, in a good way.
“I'm going to make you feel good,” he promised, his voice a gravelly whisper that sent shivers down my spine. “I’ll worship every inch of this sweet body.”
My breath hitched as his hand slipped under my tank top, calloused palm slowly sliding up my stomach to cup my breast, his large hand cupping it perfectly. His hands were physically rough against my skin, making this feel so much more real.
His thumb brushed over my nipple, and I arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping me.
“Sensitive,” he observed, a wicked gleam in his eye as he repeated the motion. “Sensitive just for me.”
“Just for you,” I agreed breathlessly, shocking myself with my boldness. I guess desire had a way of making people bolder, especially if it was for Connor Graves.
His eyes flashed with dark heat, and in a smooth motion, he pulled my tank top up and over my head, tossing it aside to join his discarded shirt. I fought the urge to cover myself as his gaze raked over my exposed breasts.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, lowering his head to press a kiss to my sternum. "So fucking beautiful, Sierra.”
His mouth moved lower, and I gasped as his lips closed around one nipple, his warm tongue licking over the small bud while his hand attended to the other. Pleasure shot through me, hot and tender, making me arch against him and tangle my fingers in his dark hair .
“Connor,” I whimpered, not recognizing my own voice, breathy and desperate.
He hummed against my skin, the vibration seeping into my chest. “Such sweet sounds,” he murmured, switching his attention to my other breast.
“I want to hear more. I want you to hear you scream when you come. Can you do that for me, sweet girl?”
The crude request made me blush, but they also sent a rush of heat between my thighs as I nodded obediently. I was fully soaked already, my thin shorts doing nothing to hide it.
As if reading my mind, Connor's hand slid down my stomach, fingers teasing at the waistband of my shorts. My stomach did more flips in anticipation.
“Can I touch you here?” he asked, his voice strained with restraint. “I need to know how wet you are for me.” His voice was full of wanton need and desire.
I nodded, trying to hide my desperation as my hips lifted in encouragement. Connor's hand slipped beneath the elastic, his fingers finding the damp cotton of my panties. He groaned low, pressing his forehead against my collarbone.
“Soaked,” he growled approvingly. “All for me.”
His fingers slowly slid beneath the wet fabric, and I tensed slightly at the foreign sensation of someone else touching me there. Connor stilled immediately, raising his head to look at me.
“Okay?” he asked, concern evident in his expression despite the desire darkening his eyes.
I nodded, biting my lip shyly. “Yes. Please don't stop.”
That was all the agreement he needed. His fingers resumed their exploration, sliding through the slick that had gathered there. He was feeling me down there, as if he needed to know what every inch of me felt like. His fingers felt even bigger against my core, and it only made me want him more.
I whimpered when he gently parted my folds, finding the sensitive bundle of nerves hidden there. He circled it with two fingers, and I gasped, my hips bucking up involuntarily. He watched my face for every change in expression, every reaction I could possibly give.
“That's it,” he cooed, his voice filled with desire. “Keep going for me, Sierra. You’re so fucking sweet.”
His skilled fingers worked magic on me, circling and rubbing my clit until I was panting, my head thrown back against the cushions. When one thick finger slowly pressed inside me, I moaned his name, the slight stretch unfamiliar but delicious because it was for him.
“So tight,” he hissed, slowly pumping it in and out of me. “So perfect. You’re going to fucking choke my cock, sweet girl.”
The filthy words combined with the steady rhythm of his fingers had me climbing higher, pleasure building too fast. My eyes fluttered closed, my hands clutching at his shoulders as if he were the only solid thing in a world that was rapidly dissolving into blissful sensation.
“Look at me," Connor commanded softly, huskily. “I want to see those pretty eyes when you come on my fingers.”
I forced my eyes open, meeting his intense gaze as he continued thrusting his finger into me, making me rock back against the cushions. He pressed firm circles against my clit, and suddenly I was falling, pleasure crashing over me in waves that made me cry out his name.
Connor's eyes never left mine, watching every move and sound I made with undisguised hunger as I came beneath him.
“Such a good girl,” he praised low, slowly withdrawing his fingers as the aftershocks rippled through me. “You’re fucking beautiful when you come.”
I watched, tingling and mesmerized, as he brought his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean with a groan that made my panting body twitch with interest.
“Sweeter than I imagined,” he murmured, a predatory gleam in his eyes. "And I've imagined it a lot.”
Before I could respond, he was kissing me again, and I could taste myself on his tongue—different and strange but insanely erotic. His hardness pressed insistently against my thigh, reminding me that he hadn't found his release.
“You haven’t—” I started, my hand hesitantly reaching for the waistband of his sweatpants.
Connor caught my wrist gently, stopping me. “Not tonight, sweet girl,” he murmured, his voice strained. “This was about you.”
I frowned, confusion and a hint of rejection washing over me. “But don't you want?—”
“I want everything with you. All of you.” He cut me off, pressing a soft kiss to my palm. “But I've got to leave in a few hours, and I want you to remember only the pleasure I gave you today.”
The reminder that he was leaving tonight made my chest ache unexpectedly. “When you come back, then?” I asked, searching his eyes.
Connor's eyes softened further, and he brushed a curl from my forehead with a tenderness that made my heart full. “When I come back,” he agreed, his voice a promise, “I'm going to take my time with you, Sierra. I’m going to make it so good for you.”
He shifted us both until I was curled against his chest, my head tucked under his chin. His heartbeat thundered beneath my ear, strong and steady. He stroked my hair quietly, his lips kissing the top of my head.
Toffee chose that moment to reappear, leaping onto the back of the couch and curling up by our heads.
“He likes you,” I whispered, feeling suddenly shy despite what we'd just done and the fact that I was still topless.
Connor's chuckle rumbled through his solid chest. “Smart cat.”
I twisted slightly, reaching off the couch in an attempt to find my tank top, but he caught my wrist again and brought it to his lips. “I want to feel you against me. Stay like this.”
I could tell it was more of a plea than a demand, and I giggled as he suddenly kissed my nose. He moved his hand to my naked waist and pulled me close against him so my nipples were grazing his pectorals, skin-to-skin.