Chapter 23
TWENTY-THREE
“ I am the happiest creature in the world. Perhaps other people have said so before, but not one with such justice .”
~Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice
I t was too late to pack up her things tonight, so they decided to do that tomorrow. After a stop at the Little Red Barn to get Elle’s overnight bag, they walked into the farmhouse.
“I want to show you something.” Clayton slipped Elle’s overnight bag off her shoulder and placed it beside the stairs.
Taking his warm hand, Elle let him lead her into the kitchen. “This is when I find out you are the Dexter of Perry, isn’t it?” Elle teased, standing in front of the basement door.
“I only chop up people who leave their dogs out in the rain.”
“Completely justified.”
“Start walking,” he laughed, pressing his chest against her back, and reaching in front of her to open the door and turn on the light.
Elle walked down the stairs and discovered his version of a mancave. Like upstairs, there were hardwood floors. A small bar made of light wood and three matching high-back stools sat in the front of the room. A plush sectional couch, the color of a Christmas tree, drew Elle, and she sank into pillowy cushiness that hugged her body. Adjusting to sink deeper, she admired the cream-colored walls bedecked with photos of Letchworth in every season.
“You have a mancave!”
Clayton crossed his arms, eyes crinkled in amusement. “It’s not a mancave, it’s a finished basement.”
“This is a mancave. Look at that TV. We are so watching Sense and Sensibility on that.”She exclaimed, pointing to the extra-large flatscreen TV hung opposite the couch.
“Can you watch Sense and Sensibility in mancaves?” he mused.
“If the man in the mancave reads Austen. Hey, what’s that?” She pointed to a door in the corner.
“Go find out,” he winked.
“If there are dead bodies in here, I’ll be most displeased.”
As she stepped through the door, she squealed. Clayton had a home gym with a weight bench, a series of dumbbells in different weights and, she gasped, a treadmill.In Long Beach, she’d converted her guest room into a combination office and exercise room, but this was impressive.
“You should have led with this. I would have agreed to stay with you much sooner.”
“Well, I had to make sure you didn’t just want me for my home gym.”He leaned against the door frame, his eyes following her as she explored.
“This is a perk.” She looked up with a flirtatious timbre to her voice. “Although, I only want you for your body…and Fitz.”
“My body, eh?” His voice lowered as he inched closer.
“And Fitz.” She took two steps closer to him.
“Mostly my body, though.”His brows arched as he closed the distance between them.
“Mostly Fitz.” She winked, hip checking him as she walked past.“It’s a close race, but I could be convinced,” she purred.
Looking at him over her shoulder, she unzipped her dress. The garment floated to the ground, pooling at her feet. With a seductive glance over her shoulder, she swayed out of the room.She’d made it halfway to the couch when strong hands came around her waist, tucking her flush against a firm chest.
“How can I…”Clayton ran his hands up her waist to her breasts, pinching her tightening nipples through the lacy fabric of her bra. “…tip the scales?”
She let out a soft moan as he pushed the cups of her bra down, freeing her aching breasts. Goosebumps bloomed across her body with the heat of his mouth dragging down her neck. As he pinched and rolled her nipples, she rubbed her backside against his growing arousal. One hand continued teasing the taut peaks while his other crawled down her stomach, slipping beneath satin panties. She bucked into his stroking fingers.
“Clayton,” she whimpered, as he increased the pressure on her aroused nipple and clit.
“Tell me what you want,” he rasped.
“You,” she gasped.
“Hmmm…I know that.” He nibbled her earlobe. “Be specific.”
A swell of lusty empowerment exploded within her. This man ignited her in all the best ways. She was not the same woman she’d been when she returned to Perry fourteen days ago. Who was this Elle Davidson?
The real fucking Elle. She twisted out of Clayton’s hold, placing her hands on his chest.
“Take off your clothes and get on the couch,” she commanded.
With a grunt, Clayton ripped his T-shirt over his head. He worked fast to unbuckle his belt and then tugged off his jeans and red boxer briefs, leaving on his socks. Elle dragged her glance away from his swelling erection and wagged her finger as she gestured to his socks. A quiet chuckle slipped from his lips as he removed them and tossed them onto a haphazard pile of clothes on the floor.
Satisfied, Elle stripped off her bra and panties and tossed them atop Clayton’s discarded clothing. She gestured to the couch again and Clayton sat, his thighs splayed in an invitation.
Straddling Clayton, she sank onto his rigid length, satisfying a needy pulse between her thighs. She rocked her hips in a slow rhythm. His fingers bit into her waist, like a plea to go faster. Ignoring his desperation, she continued in a slow taunting pace. The tightening of his hands on her ass telegraphed the restraint he was exercising.
“Elle,” he begged, as she rocked harder.
He moved one hand between their bodies and massaged her clit. Undeniable pressure swelled in her. Their ragged breaths crested like a wave as Clayton lifted his hips off the couch, thrusting deep within her.
She clasped his face, imprisoning his gaze. “I want you on top.”
He cupped her face in return, pressing his forehead to hers. “Are you su?—”
She interrupted him with a kiss and a nod.
Clayton laid Elle on the couch and lowered himself between her thighs. He propped himself on his elbows, keeping his chest off hers, then eased into her. She moaned, and he paused, tense and holding back. Cupping his cheeks, she nodded and then rocked against him.
“Keep your eyes on me, baby,” he murmured when her gaze began to drift.
She snapped her eyes back to his and he moved deeper. She wrapped her legs around his hips as their passionate rocking gained momentum. The darkening gray of his eyes intensified the pleasure coursing within her.
“Clayton,” she cried, her eyes rolling to the ceiling as the waves of pleasure almost drowned her.
“You are so fu…fu…fucking beautiful,” he stuttered, chasing his own pleasure.
That familiar pressure built again with his praise and vigorous thrusts. The pressure between her legs erupted.
“Oh…god!” she whined, her legs quivering.
“Fuck,”he grunted as he shuddered inside her.
Clayton’s gaze wove with hers, his eyes fading from hungry to peacefully sated. Her body still trembled. Self-doubt and fear had slipped away, replaced by the knowledge that this man had her. Being unapologetically uncontrolled around him was safe. She could let go with him in a way she’d never been able to before. One tear leaked from the corner of her eye.
“Are you okay?” he asked, swiping his thumb under the tear.
She tightened her hold on him, keeping him in place. “That isn’t sadness or fear. It’s trust.” In him, and in herself.