Chapter 32 All Kinds of Toys
ALL KINDS OF TOYS
BANKS
“You’re so DIY,” she says.
“From flowers to headbands, sweetheart,” I tell her as I twist the stretchy fabric around her wrists.
“Everything’s a sex toy with you,” she says, glancing back at me since I’m behind her, adjusting the soft material around her hands, clasped behind her back.
“And everything should be,” I murmur as I tug on the material to make sure the hold is firm enough but not too tight. “How does that feel?”
“It’d be better with your dick in my mouth. Can I have that sex toy, please?”
“It better be your favorite toy,” I say.
“Guess we’ll find out.”
Heat charges through me, followed by my own laughter. This woman. She’s sexy and witty, caring and giving. Strong-willed and submissive at times too. If I’m not careful, I’ll fall hard for her.
And that unexpected thought was brought to you by your libido.
Or…was it? Because my heart is tripping fast now. So much faster than I’d expected.
What the hell is going on inside me? But now’s not the time for me to analyze that organ in my chest. Other organs need tending to.
I rise and come around to face her while the dog settles quietly into a corner of the cottage.
Ripley’s on the floor, kneeling on the area rug in front of the couch. She’s wearing panties and a white T-shirt that slopes off her shoulder. The simplicity is even sexier than if she were wearing elegant lingerie. I run a hand down her soft blond hair. She stretches her neck, moving with me.
“You like it when I tell you what to do in bed,” I say, adding on to our conversation from moments ago, before I bound her. It’s a statement, not a question. Still, I’m dying for her response.
“Seems I do, Banks,” she says.
I drag my hand to the back of her head, curling it over her neck. “Because you spend all day taking care of everyone else. At night, you don’t want to.”
A small, wise smile shifts her lips. “Yes, so why don’t you shut up and fuck my mouth?”
Yup. That’s her. Keeping me on my toes with that defiant attitude. My damn heart surges, making a liar of me once more.
I tug off my T-shirt, but I don’t fully comply. Instead, I drop down in front of her. Cup her cheek. Hold her gaze. “Patience,” I tell her.
“Why do I have to be patient?”
“Because good things come to good girls who wait. Like this,” I say, then I brush my lips to hers—a tender, gentle kiss that has her gasping.
Me too.
I dust my mouth over hers again, the kind of kiss that leaves you wanting.
Teasing her, I graze her lips, kiss her jawline, travel up to the shell of her ear.
She’s sighing and murmuring as I return to her lush mouth, tip up her chin, and take another sip of a kiss.
I drink her kisses like they’re whiskey I want to savor.
Like each drop needs to be tasted fully on my tongue.
We luxuriate in the kiss till my bones are melting and Ripley’s breath is stuttering. I let go. “See? Patience is a good thing.”
“It is,” she whispers.
I stand and drag my thumb over her bottom lip. Pliantly, she opens for me. Swirls her tongue around my thumb, then draws it into her mouth. With avid eyes, she stares at me as she sucks.
Electricity crackles through my entire body, amplified by her hungry gaze.
When she lets go of my thumb, I push down the waistband of my shorts. “Now take it.”
Her eyes flicker with desire. “Give it to me.”
The give-and-take with her is scrambling my brain. No one has ever revved my engine like Ripley. I push down my shorts to my thighs, then my briefs, and free my aching cock. Her breath hitches.
I rub the tip against her pretty lips. She sighs as she licks the head.
“Beautiful. So fucking beautiful,” I grit out.
She flattens her tongue, sliding it along the underside of my dick, and holy fuck. My cells sizzle. My brain goes offline. She’s barely drawn me into her mouth, and I’m already burning up everywhere.
“More,” she murmurs, a soft but clear order.
I push in farther, and she wraps her mouth around my shaft. Then she sucks and licks. Flicks and swirls. It’s intoxicating to watch her. The way she has to balance on her knees, how she can’t use her hands. She opens wide, urging me with her mouth and her body to give her everything.
“You want it all, sweetheart?”
She pushes me out. “Fuck my mouth,” she instructs.
And that’s it. I’m lost. It won’t take long. I guide my dick back into the warm paradise, curl a hand around her head, and thrust.
She nods, murmurs, sighs, and through it all…she watches me.
Her blue eyes gaze up at me with heat, curiosity, intrigue. Something else too. Something more than passion. Something like real affection.
I try to shake it off, but maybe that’s what’s really frying my brain—the realization that we aren’t stopping, we aren’t forgetting it happened, we just keep happening.
But once again, I try to stop thinking. To let go. To give in to the sensation of her sucking my aching cock till my thighs are shaking, my balls are tightening, and pleasure is barreling down my spine.
I warn her I’m about to come, asking, “Want me to pull out?”
Shaking her head, she answers loud and clear by sucking harder. I practically black out from the ecstasy of her mouth. My brain blurs as I groan, coming hard down her throat, and she swallows.
I can barely catch my breath or get my bearings as I ease out. When I do, something wild and new hits me—I might have tied her up, but she controlled every second of that blow job.
She set the pace.
She gave the orders.
I drop down to my knees, kiss those beautiful lips once, then say, “My turn.”
“You better finish what you started last night,” she says, another demand.
It’s one I desperately want to meet. “You better fucking believe it.”
But I don’t ask if she wants to be unbound. I do it because I want her to use her hands. I free them from the headband, scoop her up, and carry her to the bed, setting her on the mattress where I peel off her panties in record time.
“Put your hands in my hair. Fuck my face hard. Do whatever you want, sweetheart,” I tell her.
She breathes out hard, excitedly. “Yes, sir.”
In seconds, she’s pushed me down between her thighs, roped her hands in my hair, and is rocking against my face.
It’s glorious the way she owns her pleasure as she discovers what she wants. And I’m so fucking lucky that what she wants is me.
It doesn’t take long till she’s arching and writhing, panting and moaning, then gasping a long, sensual string of oh gods till she’s falling apart beneath me.
Eventually, sometime later, we slide under the covers, the sheets rustling, the dog hopping up on the end of the bed and settling into a ball with a contented sigh.
“I guess we’re not forgetting so well,” she says.
“Definitely not.”
She’s pensive, staring at the ceiling for a while till she turns to me. “But we should be careful. I know the job’s important to you.”
Now that’s something I haven’t heard before—a woman trying to protect me. Until Ripley. “It is. I appreciate that.”
It’s a good reminder too. If word gets out I’m sleeping with a client, Apex Solutions could bear the brunt of the harm.
We could lose business. I saw what happened to my dad, and to my mom as collateral damage when business got mixed with pleasure.
Don’t want that to happen to Dean and me.
This situation isn’t the same as my dad’s secret second family. Not by any stretch.
Still, I’m not an innocent man. The least I can do is vow to be better. “I’ll work even harder to protect you. It’s not just the paps. There are fans now. Whoever took that photo didn’t get too close, but you never know. The town is full of tourists and press. Everyone needs to be vigilant,” I say.
She smiles softly. “I’ll ring the town bell and let them know.”
“I mean it,” I press.
“The town bell?” she asks with an arch of a brow.
“No, but just that everyone should be careful. The influx of people and all. Everyone should be on their guard. And even though you’re a beautiful distraction, that means I’ll work that much harder so I stay focused.”
She sets a hand on my chest. “You’re all good, Banks.
And don’t worry. I don’t want to let on about this thing either.
To Tabitha. The crew. Everyone. I don’t want to become a distraction for anyone.
I want the film to go smoothly. The town is benefiting from the tourism.
We’re going to benefit at the farm. A lot is riding on this. ”
And everyone includes someone in particular. “And everyone includes Haven, I’m guessing?”
With a wince, she nods. “I don’t like to keep secrets from her, but I don’t want her to be distracted. She worries about me already. But I only want her to focus on the job.”
Pretty sure it’s the other way around—Ripley worries about Haven. But it’s not my place to point that out. “I understand.”
“She worked so hard for this her whole life,” she says, her voice tightening as she shifts closer to me. “I think acting was what got her through the death of our parents.”
My heart squeezes again. “I completely get it.” I run my knuckles down her cheek. “But I bet you got her through it too, Ripley,” I say gently.
She shrugs, maybe not wanting to take credit for it.
“You said you helped her through the dark days. I think it was you, not just acting.”
She blows out a breath. “Maybe. But the point is—I want this for her. I want her to have her dreams. I want Grandma to have her dreams.”
Impulsively, I say, “What about your dreams?”
She blinks, surprised. “What do you mean?”
“Well, what are yours? Is it this farm?”
She smiles. “It’s home. I love it. I want it to be the best it can be. I want families to come here and have picnics, to play in the lavender maze, or couples to go on dates here since I finally set up fairy lights at night.”
“That sounds very romantic.”
“It is. I just want others to enjoy it too. To fill their homes with flowers, to open a bottle of lotion, or oil, or soap, and inhale it and feel…calm and happy.”
“You’re doing that, Ripley,” I say.
“Some more attention from the film would be nice. More tourists, more business—you know what I mean?”
I nod. “I do.”
“That’s why I said it—we should keep this on the down-low.”
I reach for her, press a kiss to her nose. “I like secrets. You’re the best kind of secret there is.”
She sighs happily, flips to her side, then closes her eyes.
I don’t fall asleep as fast as she does.
My mind is racing forward, thinking about tomorrow, and the next day, and the next week.
When this ends.