Chapter 29 #2
He worked me higher as his mouth moved to my neck.
When I gasped, he kept doing whatever he’d done to get that out of me.
When I moaned, he slowed down, drawing it out, keeping me at the edge without letting me fall.
He scissored his fingers, pumped them slow and deep, his thumb staying on my clit. “That’s my girl.”
He touched me like he cooked. Layers. Patience. Attention. Every response noted. Every need satisfied.
“Arthur, please.”
“What do you want?”
“You. Inside me.” I needed to explode. “Now.”
“Not yet.” He pressed a third finger to my entrance, easing it in beside the others. “Give me this one first. Come for me, Gwen. Right now.”
He curled all of them, pressed his thumb down hard, and the coil that had been winding since Ferraro’s finally snapped.
The orgasm crashed through me, and I clenched around his fingers, my nails raking his shoulder. “Arthur! Oh my god, Arthur!”
He kept moving, working me through every last shudder, until I was limp and gasping. He brought his fingers to his mouth and licked them clean, his eyes on mine the whole time. “I’ve been wondering what you tasted like since we met.”
Holy shit. “You are going to kill me.”
“Not before I’m done with you.” He grinned at my whimper, left the bed, and fumbled through his pants pockets until he produced a condom.
“Thank god.”
“Lance stashes them in my wallet as not-so-subtle encouragement.” He tore the wrapper, then paused to stroke himself, base to crown. His cock was big, thick, and glistening. “He thinks it’s hilarious.”
I flushed at the sight of his fist moving on himself, aching to have him inside me. “You are never telling Lance about this.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He rolled the condom on and settled over me. As he positioned himself at my entrance, he leaned down to kiss me, slower now, as though starting over.
Yeah, kissing him for hours would have been enough.
“Word of warning, though.” He eased in a fraction, stretching me to the edge of comfort. The pressure pulled a gasp from me and nearly stopped my heart. “I’ve only got one of these, so we’d better make it count.”
“So give me more,” I breathed.
He shifted upright to watch where we were joined as he gave me another inch. Slow. Controlled. “We fit so fucking well, Gwen.”
The stretch was intense—a perfect burn as my body accepted him. “More.”
He sank deeper, and my whole world was the fullness. Nothing else existed. My whole world was Arthur. He pressed his forehead against mine and held still, buried to the hilt inside me, both of us breathing.
His heartbeat thudded where our bodies met, his cock pulsing inside me. Or it was my pulse. I couldn’t tell anymore.
“You all right?” he murmured. “Didn’t fall asleep on me, did you?”
“Give me everything you’ve got, soldier.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He withdrew and drove deep, and all logic fled my mind.
Each long, deliberate stroke drew almost all the way out, until only the head of his cock held me open, before he filled me again.
His left arm braced beside my head. His right hand gripped my hip.
He built a layered, intentional rhythm, the same way he approached everything.
Each stroke landed where I needed it. Once he found an angle to make me react, he held it and repeated it.
I wrapped my legs around him and pulled him deeper. My nails raked down his back, and he hissed between his teeth, but he didn’t speed up. He kept the pace, kept the depth, and kept staring at me with an intensity that turned every nerve ending electric.
“Right there,” I managed. “God, right there.”
“Yeah?” He released my hip, lifted me to meet him, and drove deeper. Black spots burst across my vision. “That’s it. Take it. Take every inch.”
“Fuck, Arthur, it’s so good.”
“So fucking good. You’re so perfect I can’t think.
” His jaw flexed, and sweat beaded on his temples while the muscles in his arm trembled.
He was close. It was clear in the tension of his body, how his cock swelled inside me, how his thrusts were getting harder despite the rhythm he was fighting to maintain.
But somehow, I knew he wasn’t going to let go until I did.
Because that was Arthur Penn.
He put everyone else first.
Even in bed.
“Gwen.” His voice cracked. “I’m not going to last if you—”
“Don’t hold back.” I tightened around him. “Lose yourself with me.”
The last of his control broke loose, and he drove into me deeper, faster, harder, the bed frame knocking the wall.
I matched him, my hips rising to meet him.
The pressure built from everywhere at once—his cock hitting right where I needed him on every stroke, his weight over me, the wild need in his eyes.
The composure he showed the rest of the world vanished.
This. This is the real him.
“Come on, sweetheart,” he growled. “Give it to me. Now.”
“Arthur!” I locked my arms around him and pressed my mouth to his shoulder to muffle my scream.
Two strokes later, he followed me over the edge, slamming home and holding himself deep as he came, tangling my name with a curse.
He pulsed and pulsed, his whole body shaking with it, until he was spent.
He stayed buried until the aftershocks released us both. He collapsed onto his left side and drew me with him, his arm draped across my waist. My leg remained hooked around his hips, his cock softening deep in me as we lay face-to-face without moving.
The heater clicked in the little room. The light buzzed above us. My heart kept racing, his heartbeat matching mine as the sweat cooled on my skin.
You just slept with your bodyguard in a black site in rural France.
Not a black site. A safe house. Somewhere you’re safe.
In his arms.
He traced a lazy line down my spine, and I nestled against his chest. He kissed my hair and breathed me in. The scent of sandalwood was gone. Without any of his bags, he wouldn’t smell like that until we found somewhere that sold his cologne.
And we needed clean clothes.
Although sleeping naked would save them for the night.
“Arthur?”
“Get some sleep, Gwen.” He held me snug against him as though sleep itself wouldn’t make him let go.
Words hovered on my tongue and slipped away. Or maybe they didn’t need saying. Maybe lying here, spent and boneless, with his arm around me and his heartbeat under my cheek, was enough.
He withdrew and dealt with the condom with more grace than I would have been capable of at this hour. A half-second later, he returned to bed and pulled me close, resuming his lazy strokes along my spine. His breathing deepened. And between one breath and the next, the world went dark.