Chapter 4
Liam
Shoving the hotel door open, I’m half a second away from pushing Jordan against the wall, face first, when I think better of it.
It’s something I do with every woman I take home.
It’s one last test before we fuck. How rough do they want it?
How rough can they handle it? I always have a good inclination before leaving the bar with a girl, letting it be known how I like my evenings to go and giving a woman a chance to back out, but I like to ensure my gut instincts are good when we get to where we’re going.
But Jordan… Jordan is different. Jordan isn’t just some girl I picked up at the bar. While I don’t think she would mind getting thrown up against the wall, I mind.
Walking her inside the room, I kick the door shut with a heel, turning her around in my arms to face me. Her cheeks are flushed, blue eyes sparkling with anticipation, and it sends blood straight to my already hard cock. She’s fucking gorgeous.
With zero force, I push her against the wall just inside the door, bringing a hand to her chin. Running my thumb over her swollen bottom lip, still deep red from her lipstick and not a smudge out of place, I lift one half of my mouth into a smile. “You’re sure?”
The excitement in her eyes dims, replaced with annoyance. “Are you? You keep asking.”
The irritation in her voice makes me laugh. It’s true, but I only keep asking because I want to ensure she’s not going to regret tonight. This isn’t some random fuck. There’s potential for a lot of consequences for both of us if we go through with it, and I want her to be certain.
I know I am.
I’ve wrestled with this since Brody stopped us.
I took Jordan to get food because I needed us both more sober than we were, so we could think and make rational decisions.
I took her to the top of the tower because I wasn’t ready for the night to be over, but I still didn’t know where it was going to lead us.
Then that fucking fountain and light display happened.
We weren’t moving and I knew she was freezing.
What else was I going to do besides wrap myself around her?
I didn’t have a jacket to offer her. I only had myself.
Her entire body slowly started to relax against me, the shivers disappearing as she took the warmth that I offered her.
I couldn’t help watching her profile instead of the fountains. The joy radiated off her. The problem that plagued her earlier was the furthest thing from her mind. Her smile reached her eyes and was fucking perfect. Every part of her was perfect.
Is perfect.
Sliding my hand into her hair, I pull her head to the side which grants me access to the column of her neck. Dipping my head down, I run my nose from her collarbone all the way to her ear. “Positive. I can’t wait to sink my cock into that perfect pussy of yours.”
Jordan gives me the response I’m looking for. A breathy moan while her hips sink, looking for my thigh between her legs. She needs the friction, but I’m not ready to give it to her.
“Do you know how long I’ve wanted this perfect ass?
How long I’ve wanted to bury my face between your perfect tits?
” My voice is low against her throat as I kiss along it, tasting her, taking in her scent.
A scent that fills my mind with images of daisies in a meadow, and I don’t even know what a daisy fucking smells like.
“But more than that, I’ve always wanted this fucking neck. ”
“My neck?” she whispers, unable to find more of her voice than that.
“It’s the one spot you never cover up. The one spot, no matter what you’re wearing, I always see,” I explain, running my teeth along the length. Jordan shivers at the motion. “If I were less of a gentleman, I’d mark it for everyone to see.”
She whimpers when I nip at the bottom of it. Gentle enough that it won’t leave a mark, but hard enough she feels it.
“But since I can’t, I want you to think of me every time something touches you here,” I growl, running my fingertips down the other side of her neck.
Goosebumps pop up at my touch, and I smile against her skin.
“Your hand, your hair, your shirt. Every time something touches it, you’re going to remember tonight.
You’re going to think of my hard cock buried inside of you. ”
I’m greeted with another whimper, but there’s no acknowledgement to my demand.
“Tell me you understand.”
With a breathy moan, her head nods before falling back against the wall. My cock pulses inside my jeans, begging to come out and play. It’ll get what it wants, but not yet.
“Good girl,” I whisper in her ear, then kiss my way down one of my favorite parts of her before moving further south.
Her ample cleavage pushes up with each breath she takes, thrusting her chest toward me as I come to kiss the top of each breast. I’ll come back and worship these later because they deserve the attention, but for now they’re covered in clothing that I couldn’t give two shits about.
I fucking hate clothes. They’re the bane of my existence.
Dropping to my knees, I push her dress up, gaining access to the apex at her thighs. Jordan’s hand comes to the top of my head, pushing through my mop of brown hair as her hips push towards my face.
I grin. My Fireball is wanton and needy. I fucking love it. “Mmm, something you want, Jor?” I wonder out loud, teasing her as my fingers run over the scrap of lace covering her pussy. I don’t even need to pull the red fabric away to see how wet she is for me. It’s completely drenched.
“Liam,” she whines, and I freeze.
Women know before I bring them home that my first name isn’t to be used in the bedroom. The only name that should fall from their lips, if they want to moan one, is my last name. King. Inflated ego or not, it’s all I tolerate.
“Please Liam,” Jordan whimpers, pulling my face towards her hips. “I need you.”
Swallowing, I blink a few times, turning my head up to gaze at Jordan. My name on her lips is a declaration of all the things that will happen tonight, and the sound rushes straight down my spine to my balls. Fuck. “Say it again.”
She doesn’t hesitate. “I need you.”
“No,” I shake my head. “The other part.”
Her head falls forward, lips parting on a shaky breath. Jordan’s eyes darken as she utters the words, “Please Liam.”
I both love and hate it. Nothing has ever sounded as right as my real name on those glorious red lips. “Again.”
“Please Liam. Please.”
The begging has my dick throbbing. If she keeps it up, I’ll come just hearing her breathy little pleas. It has nothing to do with my name on her lips. Nothing. At least that’s what I’m going to tell myself.
The scrap of fabric is down her thighs in the next moment, and my mouth is on her.
The sweet, decadent taste of her has my eyes rolling into the back of my head.
Fuck. I knew it was going to be good, but I didn’t know it was going to be this good.
She’s unlike anything I’ve ever tasted before.
Like the richest dessert exploding across every taste bud in my mouth.
Jordan cries out above me, her hand tightening in my hair as my tongue moves from her clit to her center and back again, flattening against the little bundle of nerves. Flicking my tongue over it, I guide one of her legs over my shoulder, my other hand sliding up her leg to the inside of her thigh.
I don’t even have a finger inside of her when she yanks on my head.
“Liam, wait.”
She might as well have said “stop” or “no” for how fast my hands come away from her thighs.
Leaning back on my heels, her leg falls from my shoulder, and I look up at her.
I may love women, and sex, and I may be rough when it comes to all of that, but words like that are never up for interpretation.
“What’s wrong?”
Biting down on her lip, she goes from meeting my eyes to letting her head fall back against the wall where I can’t see her expression. That won’t do, so I rock back and bounce to my feet, bringing a gentle hand to her chin. “Tell me what’s going on, Jor. Whatever it is, it’s okay. It’s just us.”
Her face is flush with desire. Or embarrassment. I’m not sure which at this point. “I… I just…”
Wrapping her arms around my neck, she pulls me closer, her mouth searching.
I indulge her for a moment, letting her lips brush across mine.
The neediness hasn’t left her kiss which has me pulling back.
I may only fuck a woman once and then move on to the next, but I’ve learned over my years that for each of those experiences to be successful, communication is key.
Our eyes meet before hers quickly dart to the side, avoiding my gaze. In that quick glimpse, I realize that it’s embarrassment that colors her cheeks.
“It feels good,” she starts, pauses to bite on her lip, then continues, “but it’s okay. It’ll take too long, and I know it can’t taste very good. Your mouth… it just won’t get me off.”
My eyes narrow at the breathtaking beauty in front of me.
The one normally full of confidence. The one that has to constantly tell men to get lost in the middle of a dance floor.
The one who could have any man she wanted in the busiest nightclub in Vegas.
Of all the things she could have said, that was the last one I expected.
She has no idea how she tastes. Or that I don’t give a fuck how long it takes for me to get her off.
What the fuck did her ex do to her for her to think that?
If I weren’t me, and we didn’t have a bond where she’d told me everything over the last few months, would she be telling me this now? Or would she be standing over me, faking an orgasm just to get it over with?