Chapter 24
Riley
“What are you waiting for, Riles?”
What am I waiting for?
For reason to catch up with my eejit body that wants nothing more than to grind all over her boss’s lap and kiss that half grin off his gorgeous face.
To taste him.
To pin him to the floor and have him a shaking mess underneath me, like he does to me when I can’t sleep and he’s stuck in my head.
“Baby, don’t leave a man in this state hanging,” Spence rasps.
The slat clatters to the floor.
I rise and head for the door.
Closing it softly, I turn back around, hands gripping the doorknob. Like it can fecking save me at this point.
Spencer holds his arms out, wincing as the injured one raises a little slower.
My throat closes over.
God, a woman has never wanted something so badly in the history of all time.
And Spencer Lockwood is looking up at me from the damn floor like . . .
“Riles . . . Baby, please . . .” he rasps.
Heat drops in my core like something molten, red-hot and glowing. My grip on the doorknob fades.
My next breath barely graces my lungs.
I can’t come back from this.
But I’m moving toward the gorgeous man spread out on the floor, arms still waiting.
Hesitantly, I close in.
Bottom lip between my teeth, I sink my hands into Spencer’s hair, tilting his head up so our gazes catch.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen,” I utter.
He studies my face before loosing a groan. His forehead presses to my belly, arms folding around me. “Fuck what’s supposed to be, Riles. I’m putting my money on what’s meant to be.” He lifts his head on those last few words.
I’m a standing, tangled mess of want, need, and something else I can’t pin down.
“Spencer Lockwood, you don’t have any of that any more, remember?” I tease.
His rough grip tugs me downward. I sink, knees hitting the wood, ass meeting his lap as his hands cup my face.
“If this is what broke brings me, I’ll be a poor man for the rest of my days. This little cottage with you and Ives is all I need.”
Frowning, I shift on his lap. He’s hard beneath me. The friction is a blissful release to my aching core, and I can’t help but move on his lap again.
My eyes shutter closed.
For a moment, I can imagine his hands on me for days, nights. Months.
Years . . .
Fecking hell. No, Riley.
This can’t be any more than a fling.
His torturous groan pulls me from my reverie.
Guilt sinks in my veins like lead. This feels like more than a fling for Spence. His playful ways are a facade to stop people from seeing his true emotions. The things he truly wants.
I guess he’s had decades to perfect that tactic.
Sadness washing through me.
“That’s it, baby. Grind all over my cock,” he breathes, his grip around my jaw tilting my face up, his lips crashing over mine.
I can’t breathe.
Not knowing whether it’s because of his need for this, for me. Or for the fact we don’t bring equal emotions to this little floor rendezvous.
Spencer seems to be all in.
Me . . . I’m awash with need for him.
But it’s just lust.
It has to be.
He works my mouth over as my hands wander through his hair. I send them lower, desperate to feel every angle of his toned body, driven by the need to know him . . . to be as close as possible.
His kiss breaks away, trailing down my neck, nipping and dusting open-mouthed hot, wet kisses to my pulse points before his lips graze the swell of my breasts.
Oh, holy fecking hell, Spencer.
If this is how you love me, Spencer Lockwood . . . Take it back.
Before I fall too hard. Too deep.
And have to break both our hearts when I eventually go home.
My hands curl around the opening of his shirt.
“Baby, I need to taste these sweet hard peaks. I need you in my mouth. I need my mouth on every fucking inch of you, Riles.”
“Oh god,” I cry softly.
“Finally, she gets it,” Spencer says with an errant chuckle.
I tighten my grip on his shirt and tug it upward.
“Yours goes next,” Spencer rasps as I carefully guide his shirt from his bad arm first, then peel it from his body, tossing it to the floor.
The man is stunning.
Every hard, muscled inch of him is perfection.
Those blue eyes that usually hold playfulness are darkening by the second.
They’re intoxicating.
They’r—
Spencer nods to my tank top.
My skin is engulfed in flames, and if I don’t get his touch soon . . .
I grip the hem of the tank and peel it up and off, slowly.
His breathing shallows.
I wriggle on his lap for good measure.
His throat bobs as he leans in, and I press a finger to his lips and shake my head.
“Wait, Spence.”
He’s frozen, hauling in each breath like it weighs a ton.
I send an arm behind my back and spring the clasp on my bra.
His lips part as the lace loosens and falls from my chest. I slide the straps from my shoulders, one after the other.
“Good boy,” I whisper.
His face turns feral, and I can tell it is taking everything he has to stay put.
But I grind on his lap a little more, letting my breasts bounce as I send my hands into my hair and twirl it in my palms, pulling it around my neck and letting it spill over my breasts. The second they disappear behind the ebony curtain, Spence moans.
His hands move to my hips, tightening.
“Riley Elodie O’Malley, that is just plain cruel.”
How the—
He dives in, sweeping my hair to the one side. His lips close around my hard nipple a heartbeat later.
Holy mother of god . . .
I whimper, sending my hands crawling through his messy hair. He’s impossibly hard under my throbbing center.
“Spenc—”
He suckles the peak before moving to the other.
My back arches like it has a mind of its own. The sound that pulls through my lips is one I’ve never heard myself make before.
I’m pushing and pulling my way through his hair, the ache in my center almost too much.
Rough hands lift me from his lap a second later. My back meets the floor, and strong arms cage me in as he rises to all fours above me.
I struggle through each breath, staring up at him.
His blues are blown out to a dark, stormy sea of need.
“Riles, too many clothes, baby. I want to taste you.”
“I—”
I swallow over empty lungs.
Feck you, Spencer Lockwood. How is it plausible that the universe saw it fit to hand him over to me, just in time for me to make an attachment. Only to have to leave him so far behind me . . .
His head dips. “Please, baby, let me in.”
“You already are, Spence.”
I cup his jaw with both hands, pulling him a little way down so I can crane my neck up and capture his mouth with mine.
He groans as I deepen the kiss.
His good arm slides under my back, raising my body and taking the weight so I don’t have to strain to meet him.
Lord have mercy.
Breathless, he breaks from the kiss. “I’ll never be able to get enough of you, Riles.”
“Well, go on,” I breathe.
Hunger flares to life in his gaze as I’m lowered to the floor gently. My shorts are tugged from my hips a beat later.
I lay mostly bare on the hardwood floor, the late afternoon sunshine streaming through the window behind Spencer, every beam of light that makes it through the window lighting him up. His blonde hair abuzz with the golden light. The sheen of sweat on his muscular body set alight.
I have the instant and overwhelming need to see all of him.
I sit up, reaching for his jeans.
He catches my wrist with one big hand. Collecting my other wrist, he raises them over my head, shaking his. “No. This man is starved. No way in hell are grabby little hands distracting me from this.”
I huff an indignant sound but obey, leaving my hands over my head, resting on the floor as he moves back.
A finger tracks beneath the waistband of my panties.
My breaths shallow out even further.
I’m on fire and dying from the cold all at once. I’m desperate for him. Wanting to flee and save myself the agony of living this once and then having to live without it.
My panties peel from my hips, and I buck my hips, letting them loose over my bottom.
Spencer pins me with a glare that would melt the polar ice caps.
“Sorry, no distractions. Got it,” I pant.
He slides my panties down one leg, bending them to take them over my toes. The other leg goes next.
Then I’m fully exposed. Lying on the hardwood.
Bare.
Pussy on full display.
So wet and achy that I don’t feel an ounce of anxiety over Spencer taking his time.
He kneels, raising one of my legs over his shoulder. “Ah . . . fuck.”
Oh god. He bends down, dropping kisses along my inner thigh. His mouth is inches from my center when emotion gets the better of me, and I slide a hand down, trying to cover myself.
“Riles, I will tie you up. Don’t tempt a man. Not this close to damn starvation,” he growls.
Feck.
Spence shifts, his muscles flexing, gaze traveling down my leg. “For that little stunt, I want you on full display before I devour this sweet pussy.”
My leg is pulled from his shoulder. He spreads my thighs wide.
Heat engulfs my cheeks.
My breasts ache. My clit throbs like it’s set to detonate.
“Spence . . . please . . .” The words are no more than a whispered plea.
His low, gravel-filled hum is so close to where I want his mouth.
I’m holding my last breath. My fingers crave something to curl around, but I don’t dare move my arms again.
Another kiss presses to my inner thigh.
Annoyance and impatience start to swell, and I squirm on the hard floor. I’m so tempted to grab his face and shove it into my pussy.
Fecking hell, it’s all my mind ca—
His hot, strong tongue sweeps through my center.
My back arches from the floor, a cry tumbling from my throat.
Swirling around my clit, he hums with a raw, satisfied sound. It reverberates through my body, sending an impossible heat through my veins.
Oh shit . . .
My hands leave the floor above my head, fingers plowing into his messy dark blond strands.
I don’t care about punishment.
Not any more.
Hell, go on, Spencer. I’ll take anything you have.
I chance a glance down to find big blues tracking my moves. My lips part as my last lungful crashes out, and I loosen my hands from his hair. Pushing up on my elbows, it’s all I can do to watch him.
He licks, suckles.
Devours.
He shifts a little.
My gaze lifts to the ceiling as he suckles my clit.
Oh, oh. No . . .
Bliss coils in my center, and I tamp it back. Slamming my eyes closed, I try to find a useful parcel of air.
Rough hands grip my thighs, pushing my legs wider.
Legs shaking, I whimper as he sends his tongue through my center again.
Lifting his head, his gaze finds me. “Let go, Riles. Come on, baby.”
I . . .
My head is turning side to side on my shoulders. I have no control over a single inch of me now.
“I want to taste you. Stop keeping it from me.”
If I let go . . . If I find something as incredible as I think this is going to be . . .
“Riles, I will coax it out of you. One way or another. This is for you, promise.”
Something tight unfurls in my chest.
Is that even possible?
I nod. A mindless, slow movement.
“Good girl,” he rumbles.
His mouth closes around my clit as two fingers slide into my center.
“Oh, god, Spencer.”
My hands grab for his head instantly.
Let go Riley.
Let. Go.
Warmth floods my body.
Spirals of sparks filter into my veins. Euphoria explodes in my core. I tighten, clamping down on his fingers, hips rocking as my pussy grinds over his mouth.
“God yes, good girl.” His words are muffled but desperate.
A string of whimpers rolls through me as each wave of release courses through my body.
“Oh feck . . .” My last whimper disintegrates to a cry.
After the last crashing break of the best orgasm I’ve ever had—thank you, Spencer—I’m sitting up, palms behind me and flat on the floor.
Spencer rises to all fours.
His mouth is on mine a beat later.
My release coats his chin, lips, and tongue. I kiss it away, clearly making him even more feral as he crowds me like some kind of ridiculous gorilla.
“Good girl for letting go . . .” His forehead meets my own. “About time, O’Malley.”
“You—”
Ivy’s cry echoes from across the hallway, slipping under the closed door.
“Bollocks,” I rasp.
“I’ll go. You’re all Jell-O, anyway.”
He’s on his feet and out the door a heartbeat later, leaving me sitting on the floor. Naked. Sated.
Suddenly torn between Spencer and Ivy and going home to the family I love.