82. Summer
Chapter Eighty-Two
Summer
“ A commitment?”
“If it isn’t clear, I am an extremely jealous and possessive male,” he says, pinching my chin, his gaze burning into mine. “If I’m fucking you, I’ll be the last person you ever fuck.” He drags his thumb along my bottom lip. “Is that understood?”
“What exactly are you asking of me right now?” I ask, flicking my tongue across the pad of his thumb.
“Nothing,” he says. “I am stating my position on when we fuck, and the lasting implications of us doing so.”
So I get little say in the matter? He’s decided, and that’s that.
Sliding off him, I grab his shirt and pull it on as I walk into the bathroom.
I’m not sure why I am so irritated. I was the one who didn’t allow him to taste me.
Everything just feels so wildly overwhelming, and I’ve gone from hating him, or pretending to hate him, to not speaking, to being naked in bed together.
His taste still tingles on my tongue. Maybe I shouldn’t have done that, but I couldn’t help myself. As he told me about how he destroyed Torin, my darkness swirled deliciously inside me, and that he did it for me?.?.?. I was putty in his hands.
I don’t regret it at all. My jaw aches a little from his size, and my throat still burns a little from him fucking it, but it’s just a reminder of what I did to him. How I made him come completely undone with my mouth. My core tightens at the memory, clenching almost painfully around nothing.
Fuck .
Okay Summer. Time to make a game plan.
I wash my face and then look at myself in the mirror. My lips are swollen, my eyes are still dark, my skin is glowing even though my body is feral for release, but I have decided.
When I leave the bathroom, all his focus is on me. He is sitting up on the bed with his back against the headboard, the silk sheet artfully draped over his lap, and I can see him harden from the mere sight of me.
Stay strong, Summer.
“Is that your only rule?” I ask, tugging at the cuffs of his shirt where the sleeves have swallowed my hands. “No sex?”
He tilts his head, his gaze sliding lazily over me, and I can tell he enjoys seeing me in his clothes. “Until the other two conditions are met. Yes,” he says.
A commitment, and I know who he is. Truly.
“Then I have some rules too.”
“I’m listening,” he says, lifting his arm and tucking it behind his head, leaving me momentarily mesmerized by his muscles and how they flex.
“No kissing.”
His jaw tightens. “Why?”
“Because you are still wearing a mask.”
He pauses, considering me. “I can’t spend this whole weekend without tasting your skin. Without feeling your lips on me.”
“No kissing on the lips.”
“Fine,” he says, lifting his chin in a shallow nod.
“And no sleepovers.” I had agreed to stay with him tonight, but this is one of my hard boundaries, and if he can enforce his, I can enforce mine.
He tenses, his eyes going molten. “This will be difficult for me.”
“You’ve made your requests. These are mine.”
He closes his eyes, exhaling heavily, and I play with the sleeve of his shirt.
He opens his eyes and looks at me, his gaze flickering with vulnerability. “Can All Souls be an exception to the no-sleepover stipulation?” he asks. “I’d very much like to spend our limited time here with you in my arms at night.”
“Are you providing an exception?”
His jaw feathers. “I?.?.?.” He runs a hand down his face. “Fuck,” he says, slipping from the bed and starting to pace.
He is still completely naked, and my mouth waters at how perfect he is. His hard cock could be considered beautiful if it weren’t so savage. The balls capping the bars along his shaft catch the light, and the memory of how he tasted, how he felt against my tongue, threatens to derail me.
“I so desperately want to,” he says, snapping me back to the present.
He’s talking about us having sex, but with how I react to him, even I’m not sure it’s a good idea.
I could so easily lose myself in this man.
“But I know myself too well, and if I fuck you this weekend, and you?.?.?.” His voice breaks a little.
“Fuck someone else?.?.?.” He grates out the words like they physically pain him.
“I will kill them, and you’ll never forgive me for it.
” He stops pacing and faces me. “Even though I would have no right to do so.”
We stare at each other for a while, and I stand there, processing every expression that crosses his face.
The anger shifts to despair, but it is the vulnerability that hits me right in the chest. Holding his gaze steadily, I unbutton his shirt and allow it to fall from my body.
I leave it pooled on the floor and climb into his bed.
“Princess? What are you doing?”
I have no idea, but he keeps shattering the barriers I attempt to erect between us. Whether I like it or not, there is no going back, no replacing the distance I managed to maintain between us this year.
“I’m agreeing to stay the night with you while we are here at All Souls,” I say, slipping beneath the covers.
He searches my eyes before prowling across the room and crawling into bed beside me. “But?.?.?. why, when I can’t meet your terms?”
“Because you asked and explained your reasoning,” I say simply. “So I’m willing to compromise and give you this. It isn’t that I don’t want it as well. I just do not enjoy the discomfort of the limbo we find ourselves in.”
He moans softly and pulls me into his arms, burying his face into my neck. He inhales deeply.
“I have one more term,” I say, tilting my head for him.
He tenses a little.
“I don’t think we should do anything sexual. It complicates things.” And I’m too overwhelmed to add that aspect to whatever the fuck is going on between us.
“Can I hold you like this still?” he asks, brushing his nose over my pulse.
“Yes,” I say. “For this weekend.”
He presses his lips to my neck and kisses me once, twice, three times. “This too?” he asks, his voice a husky rumble .
“Stranger . . .” I moan.
“Is that a no?”
“It’s not a no, but?.?.?.” I say, desire pooling low in my tummy.
“Need you,” he husks against the thin skin of my throat.
He drags his teeth over my fluttering pulse and pulls my body close, leaving a scalding trail of kisses along my jaw.
I slide my fingers into his hair, tangling them in the silky locks as he grinds his hard cock against my hip.
“I’ve dreamed of this so many times, but those fantasies pale to monochrome compared to the reality of you. ”
I turn my head, sliding my lips along his jaw, savoring the tingle his stubble leaves in its wake. His skin tastes like embers and whiskey, making me crave more. He grasps my hair in one hand, the other sitting low on my back, holding me to him.
“Mine,” he growls possessively, pressing another line of scalding kisses over my throat.
Fuck.
I slide my knee to his hip, and he glides his hand from my back over my ass to cup my thigh, pulling my leg higher. My pussy throbs as the new position opens me for him, and I nuzzle his cheek, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips.
I want to kiss him. I’m desperate to feel his lips against mine, but we can’t. Kissing is maybe the most intimate act. Even more so than sex.
He moans, and I feel my arousal drip down my thigh. “You’ve turned me into a wanton creature, happy for the slightest crumb of your affection.” He reaches between us and adjusts his cock, pressing his hard, hot length against my dripping cunt. Both of us freeze, panting.
“Fuck,” I whisper.
He rocks his hips a little, letting out a desperate groan as he coats his shaft in my arousal. “So wet?.?.?.”
“Stranger,” I warn, my voice nothing more than a husky moan.
He closes his eyes, rocking his hips once more before cursing and pulling away from me. Sitting up on the bed, he runs his fingers through his hair in frustration. My chest heaves as I sit up, brushing my fingers over his shoulders.
“Little fae, if you touch me right now, I will fuck you,” he growls, the danger in his voice making my stomach flutter .
“Stranger?”
“Just give a moment.”
I pull the sheet around me and sit back, waiting for him. My desire is painful, and my need for release is almost undeniable.
It takes a few long moments before he climbs out of bed. “Don’t move,” he commands before disappearing into the bathroom.
The shower starts, and I pull my knees up to my chest as I wait. When the bathroom door opens, I look up to see him in a pair of sweats that hang indecently low on his hips. His hair is wet, and when he climbs into bed, his skin is cool like he’s just emerged from an ice bath.
“I can put on clothes or your?—”
“No,” he growls, obviously still on edge. “You will remain naked.” He pulls me close, and when he buries his face into my neck, his tension finally melts away.
“Did you . . . ?”
“No. Just had to cool off,” he says, but I can still feel his frustration.
The shower may have helped clear his mind a little, but I can feel how hard his cock still is through the thin barrier of his pants.
Desire still roils through me, but then my stomach growls loudly, and my cheeks heat with embarrassment.
When the stranger pulls back, his easy smile is back, and he presses a soft kiss to my jaw before reaching for the menu in his bedside cabinet.
“Here, princess.”
I take it from him and roll onto my back, scouring through it, looking at all the options. He pulls me close and curls around me, absentmindedly tracing shapes over the silk sheet covering my stomach.
“I think I want a steak with a side of lobster.”
“Anything else?” He smirks.
“The berry cake.”
“Champagne?”
“You don’t like champagne,” I say absently, still perusing the menu.
“What makes you say that?” he asks, pulling back to look at me.
“I know you better than you think,” I say, brushing a soft kiss to his cheek.
His eyes sparkle with delight as he picks up the phone to order our meals.
Even with him distracted, the sexual tension between us is rife, the low timbre of his voice going straight to my core.
It takes everything in me not to straddle him and beg for him to satisfy a hunger much more carnal than the one for food.
Knowing I am on the precipice of giving in to my desires, I climb out of bed and pull on his shirt.
His attention immediately snaps to me, his gaze following my every movement with intense focus.
I turn away from the temptation of him and pad to the window, staring out over the sprawling moonlit ocean.
In the distance, I can see the silhouette of what looks like a castle turret just emerging from the surface of the water.
I hear him request a bottle of scotch, and a small smile curves my lips as he finishes the call and hangs up.
“Princess?” he calls softly, and I feel him sidle up behind me.
I’m so fucking aware of him. Have I always been?
He wraps his arms around my waist, and I instinctively lean back against him.
“Paradis is breathtaking in more ways than one.” He glances at his watch and then back out the window.
“After we eat, I want to take you somewhere special.” He rests his chin on my head. “Can you ride?”
“Ride?”
“A horse. Not me,” he says, and I laugh softly.
“I’ve never ridden a horse. I’ve also never ridden you, so who knows?”
“Yet.” He chuckles darkly and nips at the tip of my ear, sending a jolt of pleasure through me.
There is a soft knock at the door, and I pull away to answer it, but he catches my hand, stopping me.
“I got it,” he says, moving past me to open the door.
He gestures the waiters in with such presence that even at that, I’m weakened.
They bustle around the room, quickly setting up the table in front of the window and lighting a candle.
I sit on the bed while they work, but my eyes never leave the stranger’s.
They leave quietly with a soft click of the door, and he takes my hand, walking me to the table.
The stranger pulls my seat out for me, and I brush my lips over his jaw before I sit down.
He is just in a soft pair of sweatpants, and I am in nothing but his shirt.
The formalities should feel strange, but somehow, all I feel is cared for and romanced.
He pops a bottle of champagne, and I quirk a brow. “I got it for you,” he says in answer to my silent question.
He fills my glass before pouring himself some scotch. He sits down and lifts his drink, and I clink mine against his in a toast before we both take a long sip.
“I’m very happy you came,” he says, his voice low and full of filthy -promises.
“Me too.”
“Eat, princess,” he says with a smile, and I have to hold back my eye roll. Everything is a command, and every command he issues makes me want to push back and be punished for doing so.
Resisting the urge because I truly am hungry, I take a bite of the lobster.
The decadent richness of the meat soaked in butter melts in my mouth, and I moan.
His eyes snap to me, and his gaze goes nearly feral.
My cheeks heat, and I flick my tongue over my lips, loving the way he focuses on the movement.
He waves his hand, and I yelp in surprise as my chair shifts, dragging across the floor until I’m right beside him, my place setting moving a moment later.
“You were too far,” he rumbles, placing his hand on my thigh and using his other to eat, the show of possession making my core tighten again.
Fuck, how am I going to do this for a whole weekend?