Chapter 30
SEAN
The tree at Sean’s back gave him the camouflage he needed, but after three days of watching Rogue’s apartment, then following him to Tuttle’s apartment or to Petey’s or to both, he still hadn’t seen or heard anything that would hint at the trio’s involvement in anything criminal.
They’d gone to practice, then returned home, and otherwise acted like business as usual—that is, besides the fact that Tuttle was driving a new car, and Petey wasn’t nearly as unhappy as he’d been lately.
“Fuck,” Sean muttered, turning his collar up against the cold October air. “I hate this.”
Maybe they should have taken this whole thing to the police. There were a million other ways Sean would have preferred to spend his time. At the top of that list: with Kiera, helping her get her apartment back in shape.
He’d known she was right about slowing things down, even though he had no problem moving fast.
Maybe it was the athlete in him; he gravitated toward speed. Maybe it was because standing still had never led to anything good.
Maybe it was because he’d known what he wanted the moment he’d first laid eyes on her.
His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he pulled it out.
It was text photo of Kiera in a body-skimming green dress.
Another photo popped up—this one of her in the same dress but with her back to the camera—and Sean’s cock twitched in his jeans.
He didn’t know how the designer did it. The dress was an engineering marvel because there was virtually no back to it. The whole thing plunged to the base of her spine.
A third text came in from Kiera:
Like it?
Sean tapped out a quick:
Love it.
Party starts in an hour. Come here to get ready.
Sean glanced up at Rogue’s apartment windows, then down at his phone and smiled. He texted, On my way, then slid his phone back in his pocket.
KIERA
My phone pinged immediately with Sean’s response: On my way.
A second later, I screamed and staggered backward. My phone clattered to the floor. “Shit!”
“Easy!” Sean said, laughing. “It’s just me.”
“I’m never going to get used to you popping in and out.”
“I said I was on my way.”
I waved my hand through the air, partly to dismiss his explanation, partly because we didn’t have time to debate dryad etiquette. “I got some new clothes for you.”
He glanced over to where I had everything laid out on my bed.
I’d bought not only a new mattress but a champagne-colored bedspread and matching sheets, along with pillows in every shape and size, including one of those bolsters, which looked cool even though I wasn’t exactly sure of their purpose.
“It’s Marc Jacob,” I explained, pointing at the suit.
He pulled off his flannel shirt and tossed it on the floor. “Is that good?”
“Yes, it’s good.”
He undid his jeans, pushed them to the floor, and stepped out. He picked up one of the hangers to examine the moss-green shirt. It had a soft sheen and impeccable detailed stitching on the collar and cuffs.
The jacket and pants were a simple black merino wool, but the jacket had a green and black paisley lining that added a lot of swag. I’d also chosen a mock alligator belt with a killer silver buckle.
“Thanks, babe. It’s great,” he said. “Though…not half as great as your dress.”
He draped the clothes I’d bought him over the accent chair I had in the corner.
“What are you doing? Aren’t you going to put them on?”
“Eventually.” He came back, looked me up and down, then took my hand and guided me into a dance turn so he could get the full-360 view. “Christ, babe. Are you sure you want to go to the party?”
“Of course I do! It’s my birthday.”
“We haven’t had sex in your bed yet. We could celebrate right here,” he suggested. “Starting with…”
He fiddled with the zipper that ran down my side, tickling me.
I squirmed away. “We’re going to be late.”
“So?”
So? Sean hated to be late. “So, I’m the guest of honor.”
He had to understand how big of a deal this was to me. No one had ever thrown a party for me.
“Then my sweet fashionista should arrive fashionably late,” he said, “to make her grand entrance.”
He wrapped his arms around my waist and murmured a satisfied, “Nice,” when his fingers found the bare skin at my back.
A tremor ran down my legs, and he turned us around so smoothly I would have thought we were skating on ice. Thin ice. Because this was moving into dangerous territory. I’d already done my hair and makeup, and it didn’t take a genius to see where this was going.
Sean took two blind steps backward, toward the bed, taking me with him. When we reached the mattress, Sean worked at my zipper again, this time lowering it all the way down.
The silk slithered down my body, pooling around my ankles on the floor.
I stood there for a second, naked except for my panties and shoes, then Sean fell backward onto the mattress, pulling me over the top of him.
“Sean!” We landed with a hard bounce.
His fingers sifted into the hair at the side of my head. “I love the color of your hair.”
I relaxed against him. “I love the color of your eyes.”
His lips turned up at the corners. “Your heels, however, are like ice picks digging into my shin.”
“Oops. Sorry.”
“Kick off those shoes, babe.”
I did, and my spike heels hit the floor. “Be careful of my hair and makeup.”
“Can’t make any promises,” Sean said, then he moved, quick and agile. His boxer briefs and my panties were both gone in the blink of an eye.
Sean sat up at the edge of the mattress and positioned me over the top of him so I was straddling his lap, and his cock stood up straight and tall, sandwiched between us.
His head bent to my breast, which he lifted and kissed. He found my nipple and sucked it in deep.
“Sean!”
He cupped my breast, and his thumb stroked over the nipple sending lightning bolts straight to my core.
“Now, what was that about wanting to go to a party?” he asked.
“It can wait.”
His other hand went between us, and his thumb pressed against my clit.
“Oh…my…god.” I ground down, rubbing and rocking against him
“Fucking beautiful,” he agreed, then he took my hand, moved it between us, and joined my fingers with his at my clit.
We worked my sex together until I was writhing, and he took his hand away to let me take over.
Damn, that was hot, and it got hotter still when he leaned back on his elbows so he could get an even better view of the show.
I focused on my goal, circling and pressing, feeling like a goddess before him. Sexy. Hot. Molten. And riding the edge of a knife.
My neck arched.
“Babe, look at me,” he commanded.
My head snapped back up, but I could barely open my eyes. I was deep underwater with my orgasm building rapidly.
“Fuck, you’re so fucking gorgeous,” he muttered, almost like he was in pain. “I’m going to come just watching you.”
“Okay,” I said, panting.
Sean’s cock get impossibly stiffer beneath me, the shaft pressing against my back hole and the head nudging at my wet heat.
“Two fingers in your cunt,” he demanded, “but keep it up on your clit.”
“Okay,” I repeated and did what he said.
It had to be said, the nymph knew what he was doing, because my body instantly bucked, and I climaxed. Hard and wet and spasming all around my fingers.
Sean flipped me to my back.
His hands slid under my ass, and he lifted me to him, slamming into me—no longer smooth and agile, but rough and rhythmic. Thick and hot and…
My orgasm was showing no signs of waning. It was almost too much to bear. I wanted to scramble out of my body, right out of the top of my head to get away from the onslaught of sensation.
“Sean!” I cried. “I can’t take any more.”
“Yes, you can.”
“No, I—” But I could. I could take all of him. And I’d do it forever.
“Fuck, Kiera.”
“Oh, god. Sean.”
“Just…a little…bit…m-” Sean’s words cut off, and he groaned as he found his release.
I felt him, spilling into me before dropping onto his forearms.
I took his weight for a couple of seconds before he reluctantly rolled himself away.
“Wow,” I breathed.
“Yeah,” he agreed.
“Happy birthday to me.”
He opened his eyes, then slowly turned his head to look at me. Our eyes met. And he burst out laughing.