32. Paige #2
“I’m standing here with my hand around your cock. I think we’re past polite conversation.”
Aiden catches my wrist, stopping my hand at the base. “I thought about getting you beneath me and fucking you until neither one of us remembered why we’d spent nearly two weeks apart.”
My pulse kicks.
“I thought about your legs around me. The noises you make when I’m deep inside you.” He draws my hand up his shaft and back down. “I thought about coming inside you and keeping you in my bed all night.”
“That’s better.”
“I wasn’t finished.”
“Neither am I.”
I kiss him again, then release him and step back.
“Take off the rest and get on the rug.”
Aiden obeys.
Seeing him kneel naked in front of the fireplace, waiting for me, sends a sharp thrill straight through my body. He trusts me to tell him what I want. More importantly, he’s finally learned that listening doesn’t make him less certain or less in control.
I strip beneath his stare and carry my clothes to the window seat instead of dropping them across my new floor.
A slow smile touches his mouth. “Already protecting the room?”
“I have standards.”
“Come here and let me test them.”
I join him on the rug and place one hand on his shoulder.
“Behind me.”
His mouth parts.
I lower myself onto my hands and knees. Aiden settles close enough that his thighs brush mine, but he still doesn’t touch me.
“Paige.”
“What?”
“If you keep making me wait, this is going to be over embarrassingly fast.”
I glance back at him. “I’ll take that risk.”
“Of course you will.”
“Touch me.”
His palms move from my shoulders down my back, slow and firm, before closing around my hips. He bends over me and kisses between my shoulder blades. His chest presses against my back as one hand slides between my thighs.
“You’re soaked.”
“You being naked helped.”
He drags two fingers through my wetness, then circles my clit.
I push back into his hand. “More pressure.”
He gives it to me, rubbing firm circles that make my arms weaken. Pleasure gathers quickly after nearly two weeks of imagining his hands. I reach down and cover his fingers with mine, guiding him until he has the rhythm exactly right.
Aiden’s mouth brushes my shoulder. “Like that?”
“Yes.”
His fingers move faster.
My head drops between my arms. “God, I missed your hands.”
“I missed touching you.” He slips two fingers inside me, curling them as his thumb works my clit. “I missed knowing exactly what makes this pussy clench.”
I rock against his hand.
“That,” he says. “I fucking missed that.”
The pressure climbs too quickly. I catch his wrist and pull his hand away.
Aiden stops. “Too much?”
“No.” I look back at him. “I need your cock inside me.”
His eyes drop to my mouth.
“Tell me exactly how you want it.”
“I want you behind me with your hands on my hips.” I spread my knees wider. “Start slow. When I tell you to fuck me harder, don’t hold back.”
Aiden grips his cock and drags the head through my wetness.
“Like this?”
“Yes.”
He presses inside me.
The stretch pulls a low moan from my throat. He fills me slowly, making me feel every thick inch until his hips meet my ass.
Both of us go still.
“Fuck,” he says behind me.
I push back, taking him as deep as I can. “You okay?”
“No.” His fingers dig into my hips. “You’re hot and tight, and I can feel every fucking part of you.”
“That sounds terrible.”
“I’m suffering.”
I laugh, but it turns into a gasp when he pulls halfway out and pushes deep again.
Aiden watches where our bodies meet. I can feel the weight of his stare almost as clearly as I feel his bare cock sliding inside me.
“I forgot how good you look taking me,” he says.
“You had nearly two weeks.”
“I remembered.” He gives me another slow thrust. “This is better.”
I grip the rug as he begins to move. Each stroke is controlled and unhurried, exactly what I asked for, but his hands are tight enough on my hips to tell me how much effort it costs him.
“Still good?” he asks.
“Perfect.”
He thrusts again, hitting deep.
I arch my back. “Do that again.”
Aiden gives me the same angle, harder this time.
“Yes.”
“Tell me what you need.”
“More.”
His rhythm quickens. The slow drag of his cock becomes a hard, steady thrust that rocks me forward across the rug.
“Harder.”
The restraint he’s been clinging to finally snaps.
Aiden jerks my hips back and drives into me. The slap of his body against mine fills the room, rough and filthy beneath the soft crackle of the fireplace.
“That’s what you wanted?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Say it.”
“I want you to fuck me harder.”
He makes a dark, broken sound and gives me exactly what I asked for.
One hand leaves my hip and slides around my body. His fingers find my clit, rubbing fast circles while he pounds into me from behind.
I drop to my forearms.
“That’s it, baby.” His other hand moves up my back and closes around the nape of my neck. “Take it.”
My body tightens around him.
Aiden curses. “You keep squeezing my cock like that, and I’m not going to last.”
“You’re mine,” I gasp.
His rhythm stutters.
I look back at him. “Every stubborn, controlling part of you.”
“Fuck yes, I am.”
“And I want all of you.”
His hand leaves my neck and curves around my shoulder, pulling me back into every hard thrust. “You have me.”
The words are ragged, nothing like the controlled promises he offered earlier.
“You have all of me, Paige.”
Pleasure winds tighter beneath his fingers. My legs begin to shake, but Aiden holds my hips up and keeps fucking me through it.
“I’m close.”
“I can feel it.” His voice drops lower. “Come on my cock, baby. Let me feel how much you missed me.”
My orgasm hits hard.
I cry out his name as my body clamps around him. Aiden keeps moving, dragging every pulse out until the pleasure becomes almost too much.
Then his thrusts lose their rhythm.
“Paige.” My name comes out strained. “Tell me.”
I know what he needs.
“Don’t pull out.”
He drives as deep as he can and comes inside me.
The hot pulse of him sends another tremor through my body. Aiden holds me against him while his cock jerks, his forehead dropping between my shoulder blades as he groans my name.
Neither of us moves until his breathing begins to slow.
Aiden eases us down onto our sides and pulls the blanket from the reading chair over my back. His arm stays around my waist, keeping me pressed against his chest.
“You okay?” he asks.
“I’m deciding whether the rug was an inspired design choice or a safety hazard.”
His laugh rumbles against my shoulder. “I’ll order a thicker one.”
“You are not renovating the room after I’ve already accepted it.”
“Can I submit a formal request?”
“Six to eight weeks.”
He kisses the back of my neck. “Worth trying.”
When he eventually slips out of me, he reaches for his discarded shirt and cleans between my thighs. His touch is gentle, careful, and so different from the way he held me a few minutes ago that my chest aches.
I turn beneath the blanket and curl against him in front of the fireplace.
“We should test the rug more often,” I say.
“I’ll add it to the maintenance schedule.”
“Weekly inspections?”
“Minimum.”
I laugh and press a kiss to his shoulder.
After we dress, I retrieve my purse from beside the desk. The paperback inside was my constant through the entire breakup, because leaving home without a book would have been one crisis too many.
I carry it to the nearest shelf.
Aiden watches as I slide it into the empty space.
“One book?” he asks.
“For tonight.”
“And after tonight?”
I turn toward him. “I’ll bring more on Friday.”
Hope moves across his face without becoming an assumption. “Next Friday?”
I cross the room and place his hand over my heart.
“Every Friday.”