Chapter 29
“J
ust come the hell inside.” I grab Tom by the belt loops and yank him into his apartment as the elevator doors bing closed behind us.
“Wow, the post-performance fire is back,” he says, letting me pull him toward his bedroom.
“Your fault for kissing me like that in the elevator. Turned the warm and fuzzies back into a raging inferno.”
Not that the inferno was ever far away. Him taking me into his arms in the car and curling around me, as if he wanted to put himself between me and all the evils of the world, was up there with getting naked.
Who knew that someone wanting to protect you and take care of you could be such a turn-on?
And who knew I even wanted to be protected and taken care of? It’s certainly news to me.
But right now, I need him to take care of me in a whole other way.
“I thought you were about to rip my jeans off before the doors opened,” he says as I lead him into the bedroom.
“I’ve had enough of the waiting.”
He just manages to turn on the nightstand lamp before I push him back onto the bed.
“Enough of the forgetting-condoms thing.” I plant a knee on either side of him. “Enough of the being-interrupted-by-the-food-delivery thing.” I unbuckle his belt. “Enough of the me-falling-asleep thing.” The button is next. “Enough of the sad-life-story thing. Enough.” I slam my hands down on either side of his broad, mischievous smile that’s a mixture of lust and something more.
I have never felt more alive in my life, more sure of myself, more sure of what I want, and more sure that Tom’s the man I want it from. I want to devour him, to have him all ways till Sunday, in a romping, passionate frenzy.
And maybe I’ll let him do that looking-after-me thing again afterward. Maybe it would be nice.
“Hey.” He pulls me slowly down toward him. “Take your foot off the gas, Speedy.”
The soft, gentle brushes of his lips on mine melt me into a puddle of slush and gently put the brakes on my urgency.
He tugs at my top lip, then my bottom, teasing them with his tongue and coaxing my mouth open like he’s about to savor the most delicious treat and wants to make it last.
Maybe he’s right. I sink deeper into him, my skin tingling all over, my center hot and wet, but prepared to wait now.
I find my way to the edge of the T-shirt under his button-down and slide my hands up and over his belly. His muscles shiver under my fingers, his breath growing heavier in my mouth.
“Christ, you taste good.” He glides his lips across my cheek and buries his face in my neck.
His hands are under my top, stroking my sides, my skin erupting in goosebumps in his fingers’ wake.
I rock against his hardness. The anticipation of there being no clothing between us is almost too much to bear.
He drags his tongue over my neck, sending a shiver down my side, at the same time his fingers find the edge of my bra. My nipples spike, desperate for some part of his bare skin to brush against them.
As if reading my mind, he whips my shirt over my head, reaches around to unhook my bra, and slides it off my shoulders.
“You are so fucking beautiful, Hannah,” he says before flipping me onto my back and dotting light kisses in circles around my breast, spiraling closer and closer to the nipple straining for his mouth.
When his tongue finds it, the whole world fades away. I push my fingers through his hair, writhing under him, as he sucks and licks and nibbles, sending me to a plane of pleasure I never knew existed.
What a night this has been. Performing with the Medicines in front of several thousand people, a protective hug that made me wet, and now I think I’m about to come just from having my nipple sucked.
And what’s the connection between all those things? Tom.
I want this man. I need this man. And there’s no way I’m going to come without him inside me this time.
I roll us back over and crouch above him, a hand on either side of his shoulders, my breasts drifting over his face. He takes one in each hand, massaging and thumbing my nipples.
“This is the best view so far.” His hands, his words, the sight of his lust-filled eyes, fan the fire of desire already flaming inside me.
His hands fall from me as I sit back on his thighs.
“Time for you to be topless too.” I push up his shirt and T-shirt, and he quickly finishes the job.
Holy hell, look at that chest. I knew it was magnificent when I saw it on the landing that morning. But now I get to touch it, to run my fingers over his broad pecs, into the valley between them, and back out toward the puckered nipples.
I lean down and take one of them in my mouth, move to the other, then plant a trail of kisses down his warm chest and belly until I meet the soft trail that disappears below his waistband.
It doesn’t take much work to finish undoing his jeans, and it takes him even less time to kick them off, along with his boxers. And now I’m straddling the prize, the long, thick, hard-as-a-diamond prize. It’s even more beautiful in the glow of the bedside lamp than it was in the moonlight of the back of the car.
“Are you just going to look at it?” he asks.
“I’m giving it the appreciation it deserves.” I stroke my fingers lightly up either side, over the velvety head, back down again and over his balls.
Tom’s eyelids drift shut. He sweeps his hair off his forehead and leaves his hands resting there, pleasure etched across his face.
I wrap my hand around his length and give a gentle pump. His eyes screw up tighter, and he groans. Another harder pump, and I dip my head to lick the tip. Pump and lick, pump and lick, pump and lick. I don’t stop until he twitches in my hand, his groans deepen, and he shows all the signs he’s about to blow.
“Hold on.” I crawl up his body. “I’m desperate to have you inside me. I need you there.”
“Then get the hell out of these.”
He grapples with my jeans, and I finish off the job and flop down beside him.
We’re both naked.
On his bed.
And suddenly I don”t care if Louisa’s slept in it. Or if a thousand women have. I”m the only one here now, and that”s the only thing that matters.
Because the thing I’ve wanted for more than half my life is about to happen.
Simultaneously we turn onto our sides to face each other.
Tom pushes my hair out of my face with a smile, then drags his fingers from my shoulder over the swell of my breast, down my side, and over the curve of my hip. My skin shudders, my body thrums, my inner walls pulsate. Every inch of me is desperate for every inch of him.
His eyes rove my body. “I need to keep telling you how beautiful you are. I can’t stop myself. And I need you to know.” He traces the shiny line of a stretch mark from my hip to just under my belly button. “This is beautiful.”
Men have told me I’m hot before. But no one’s ever said it with this tone in their voice. With this surety of belief, this heaviness of truth.
In this moment, I’m not someone’s mom, not someone’s housekeeper, not someone’s assistant. I’m Tom Dashwood’s beautiful lover. And I could get used to that.
His hand slides lower and dips between my thighs as his mouth meets mine. His fingers and his tongue move softly and slowly, both searching, finding what they want.
I sigh into his mouth when he slides a fingertip against my clit and have to grip his solid square shoulders to keep from falling backward.
I need more of him—more fingers, more tongue, more of him against more of me. I hook my top leg around his waist, and he moves closer—his dick stroking my belly as his finger circles my clit.
I cup him against me, and he thrusts, hot and hard.
Then his finger dips lower, finds my dripping-wet entrance, and slides right in.
My body bucks against him, my head dropping back, falling away from his mouth.
“Good?” he asks, slipping another finger inside me and driving himself harder between my hand and my belly.
“Yes, but you have to stop. I want to come on this part of you.” I take his dick fully in my fist and give it two hard strokes. “Not your fingers.”
“Your wish is my command.”
He rolls me onto my back and crawls over me toward his crumpled jeans. His dick is so close to my face I can’t resist. Cupping his balls, I wrap my lips around the head and, inch by inch, take him deeper and deeper.
There’s a gasp, then the sound of ripping foil over my head.
“If you want me inside you, you have to stop that right now.”
I slide him out of my mouth and look up. “Your wish is my command.”
In almost one swift movement, he’s sheathed and lying on his back, dragging me on top of him.
This is it. This is the moment.
He strokes my thighs and gazes up at me. “However you want. Whenever you want.”
My eyelids flicker shut as I lift his dick off his belly and hold the tip against my clit. Two slow circles take me dangerously close to the edge. Then I slide him down my slick wetness and rest him at my entrance.
“Christ, Hannah.” His fingers sink into my thighs.
I push my hips down, and his tip pops inside. We both gasp and pause.
I open my eyes and wait for him to open his. With our gazes firmly locked, I lower myself. Slowly. A fraction of an inch. Then a fraction more. My body stretches to accommodate him as I go. Then I slide down him a little bit more.
Tom’s chest rises higher and falls lower with each deepening breath.
A fraction more. His eyes still on mine. Our minds connected as much as our bodies. The past drawing us together.
I drop lower and lower until there’s nowhere else to go, until I have all of him. And he has all of me.
We both let out a hard release of air.
I ease up and lean forward to give him room to maneuver, and he takes the opportunity to pull out a little, then thrust back up. Then again. And once the momentum’s started there’s no stopping, no slowness anymore, no taking our time. We both know where we’re going, and we both want to get there. Together.
As we rock against each other, he reaches up to stroke my breasts and my nipples, then runs his fingers down over my belly, until one finds my clit.
A loud groan shoots out of me as his touches inside and outside my body fan the flames of my pleasure. Flames bursting from embers that have been glowing within me for oh, so many years.
He pushes himself up to sitting and takes my nipple in his mouth. I wrap my legs around him, settling in his lap and giving him more space to glide, more room for me to feel him.
His finger on my clit, his mouth on my nipple, his hard dick thrusting in and out of me, our history living and breathing in the hot air between us, carry me higher and higher.
He bucks against me, his mouth sucking harder, his finger circling faster, sweat building between my ass and his thighs.
Higher and higher, above the clouds to uncharted parts of the atmosphere, and then a little higher still, then…the crash.
My back arches against his arm around me, pushing my breast harder into Tom’s mouth, bearing my hips down harder against his throbbing and thrusting.
I come in long cresting waves that reach into my core and ripple against his dick.
At my cries of “Oh, God!” with my body contracting against him, Tom grabs my hips and lets out a long, low groan as he pumps me up and down in time with his thrusts.
As my waves start to slow, his build to breaking point and I get to watch his face as he comes undone, banging harder and faster into me, his head thrashing from side to side, his face contorted with pleasure, a pleasure I’m giving him.
I tighten my insides against him, gripping him, partially to give him more pleasure, and partially because I’m trying to hang on to him and don’t want to let him go.
He emits a deep, throaty cry with his final thrust, then drops his forehead to my shoulder, and we move slowly against each other as the aftershocks subside.
“Jesus Christ,” he says breathlessly, like he can’t believe what’s just happened any more than I can or that such pleasure could possibly exist.
I’ve been transported to another planet and am slowly drifting back to Earth. But Earth’s different now. Something’s changed. Shifted. Something fundamental within me will never be the same again.
I’ve had real, adult, inside-me sex with Tom Dashwood, the man who smashed my heart into a thousand pieces.
But he might just have put them all back together.
I tighten my legs around his waist, my arms around his shoulders. “This has been the best night ever.”
His warm lips kiss my shoulder, then he draws back and takes my face in his hands.
I push that sexy-as-hell hair off his face, and our eyes lock—not just looking at each other, but looking into each other.
There’s an earnestness in his face. “You are so fucking amazing.” He grips my cheeks like he can’t stress enough what he’s saying. “I wish you knew how amazing you are. I wish you could understand it.”
I run my finger around the outer corners of the delicious brown eyes watching mine. The bags under them seem lighter, the lines around them, less obvious.
“You look more rested.” I trace a finger down and along his jaw. “And less clenchy.” The tickle of his stubble on my fingertips is something I’ll never tire of. “Has coming home made you happier? More relaxed? Less stressed?”
“If I’m less clenchy”—he gives me an affectionate chuckle—“that’s nothing to do with where I am. And everything to do with who I’m with.” He dots a tiny kiss on the end of my nose. “I thought I needed to nap for a couple months to get me over everything that’s happened. But turns out”—he draws a lazy line between my breasts with his finger—“what I needed was you.”
If he’d said those words even just a week ago, I would have laughed in his face and then run a mile. But now they fill me, complete me, thrill me. This is big. Huge.
Tom tips his forehead against mine, looking at me under his brow. “I hate the way you’ve been treated. No one’s ever going to treat you like that again.”
“I know.” I move a little to try to keep him inside me. “I won’t let them.”
But the fact is, the thought of being treated any way by anyone other than Tom now seems wrong.
Tonight has flipped a switch.
I did two amazing things. One by myself. And one with Tom. And there’s no going back to the old me from either of them.
“Good.” He leans back and reaches between us to take my right hand in his right hand, weaving our fingers together.
Then he draws them to his lips and plants a kiss right where our tattooed stars are touching.