22. Wait For Me
WAIT FOR ME
AUbrEY
As soon as Liam pulls the last section of my corset free, I let my elaborate dress fall to the floor.
Shame that Cynthia’s hard work is wasted—being worn for less than two hours.
But a quick smile cracks across my face as I feel the seamstress would be enthralled with happiness if she knew her masterpiece ended up as scraps on the floor.
In fact, anyone who designs a dress of this caliber surely has every intention for their artwork to end up in this exact place—pooling around the wearer’s heels.
Liam takes several steps away, distancing himself as if he needs the length to take in my complete form—his back slams into the cabin’s front door as he leans against it.
He’s always had boyish good looks to him, young eyes, and mid-length hair falling around his face. But right now, with the way he’s looking at me, there is nothing innocent about him.
He cracks a smile, looks over me boldly, as if he is photographing me with his eyes.
I step over my water sodden dress, standing only in my nude colored thong, my body shaking. I tell myself it’s from the cold and wet of the snow we were lying in only moments before. But even I’ll admit that’s far from the truth.
His gaze drops from my eyes, to my shoulders, then my breasts—which are hard enough to cut through this fucking tension separating us. My skin prickles just from the touch of his stare. He doesn’t move, remains motionless against the door.
I step closer to him.
We promised no words, no talking. And he doesn’t need to say a thing for me to understand what he wants. Violent tremors wrack my body, from anticipation, from the cold touch, and from his stare. From it all.
I wet my lips, watching as his gaze hardens, his arms folded over his broad chest. I reach down to shimmy out of my underwear. Something intense flares through his entrancement. I grin as I watch him take a hand and rub at his jaw—as if he’s trying to find his composure.
But damn him, he doesn’t move an inch.
And suddenly I’m jealous of a doorway, of how his body is resting against it, pressed to it, and how I wish it were me instead.
I kick off my heels, standing…waiting.
Is he going to make me beg for it?
No.
No, we agreed—no talking.
And as if to answer my silent question, he grins widely, his straight, white teeth gleaming at me, and then he points his index finger at the ground.
Liam Anderson doesn’t want me to beg.
He wants me to fucking crawl.
My breath spasms, even as heat pools at my core, demanding I obey the order. I’ve never crawled for anyone in my life—it seems too humiliating, diminishing.
But why am I so fucking wet then? If I’m so opposed to the idea?
Is it because crawling—following his command—feels right? Letting go of control, giving in to what my brain and heart want, allowing someone else to dictate my movements?
I sink onto my hands and knees, my hair cascading around me. He lowers himself, so he’s eye level with me, watching greedily as my breasts hang, nipples in firm peaks. Then he holds out his hand, inching his finger forward, in a motion that silently screams: Come here.
And so, I begin to crawl.
Liam kneels, calling me to him with that inching finger like I’m his fucking dog.
The anticipation is building and building in my chest, at my slick center.
I’m breathless as I cross the final space toward him, my thighs so wet from want that they basically slide against one another like they are separated by silk.
By the time he finally reaches his hand out to touch me, he tips my head up to meet the green of his eyes.
He stands to his full height, leaving me on the ground. His eyes find me below, and I shift my weight, pushing myself onto the back of my legs, so I’m now comfortably kneeling before him.
Liam traces his thumb over my bottom lip, sticking his thumb into my mouth. Similar to how he had when I had straddled him in my bed, but this time it is not gentle or teasing.
It’s rough, urgent.
I am reminded once again of the saltiness of his skin as he curls his thumb over my bottom teeth and prys my mouth open.
Fuck, this no-talking thing is hot, I think as his other hand slowly finds his belt.
I refuse to meet his blaring gaze and choose instead to watch his hands move, freeing himself of his suit pants.
Even with the dim evening sun and the cabin’s lights all turned out, I can see how thick and hard he is.
I want to taste every inch, just as I did in that hotel room.
Swallowing my anticipation, I find his gaze. His nostrils flare, and he nods. Giving me the silent permission to touch him—taste him.
I don’t waste a fucking second.
I take him in my mouth. And I ruin the facade as I giggle against his erection when he groans.
I pull him free of my mouth as a popping sound leaves my lips—all from the lack of suction as I withdraw. Pressing my finger to my lips, I sign for him to stay silent.
I swallow dryly as Liam’s eyes go wild and he grabs his length, my mouth immediately dropping open as he shoves himself back inside my mouth—further ensuring we remain quiet.
He gives me no time to adjust, to relax my throat as he pushes himself deeper, until he threatens to hit the back of my throat.
But I impress even myself when I remain silent, no choking sounds leaving me as he continues inching himself deeper and deeper.
My eyes water, my mouth threatening to sputter from the sheer size of him, but I fight it off, taking all of him.
I look up through tear-blurred vision, tilting them up over my eyelashes from where he gazes down at me.
Fuck, I wish I hadn’t.
He looks like a wet fucking dream.
My hand searches, trying to find that bundle of nerves between my legs, but I barely reach for contact before Liam pulls himself free of my mouth and grasps my arms, stopping me.
I’m desperate for him to touch me, for the sensation building at my center to be released, to tremble throughout me.
So I lift myself from the floor, turning away from him. I stop myself from looking behind my shoulder as I move across the cabin’s expansive living room, the vaulted ceilings making the entranceway seem more like a palace than a cabin.
I don’t navigate myself down the hall, hoping that he follows me.
No. No, I’m far too desperate to be touched.
Even the few steps it would take to reach my bedroom seem like an impossible distance for me to cross.
Instead, I stop by the expansive kitchen island, the cool marble chilling my already winter-frozen skin.
But I’m burning from the inside out, and I know it won’t be long before I’ll be ignited with warmth.
I sit my bare bottom on the surface, my legs dangling over the counter as I turn to face Liam.
He’s still by that damn door—cock gripped between his fingers as he strokes himself—watching me. And I quickly decide that the distance won’t do.
So, I follow his suit, curling my finger at him.
His bottom half is exposed, but his shoulders and chest are still covered, the delicate fabric of his suit hiding his muscular form from me.
Liam’s steps falter as I motion for him to finish undressing.
I can see his eyes dance with amusement, desperately holding back a laugh. But he stifles it. His fingers move like lightning across the bottom of his snow-sodden jacket.
I think watching him undo each button might be the hottest thing I’ve ever witnessed. I spread my legs, his gaze going hungry as he shrugs out of his jacket.
My fingers reach for my sex, and I buck from the connection I’m so desperate for. My fingers instantly become slick as they rub my aching center, my eyes never leaving Liam as he watches me touch myself.
When he’s finally undressed, he cuts the distance to me with only two long strides, his powerful thighs making it far too easy to get to me.
His large hands wrap around my spread thighs and yank me toward him. I gasp, thinking he’s about to pull me from the ledge, but he situates me right at the edge. He uses his palms to spread me open further, the muscles of my inner thighs stretching and screaming with pure delight.
I don’t think I’ve appreciated Liam’s height as much as I have at this moment, as he moves to his knees, tall enough to reach me from where I’m elevated before him.
There are no playful strokes, no testing to see if I’m wet and ready.
He damn well knows.
A finger enters me, and I gasp, my hand finding his hair, the strands just long enough for me to hold onto. Liam withdraws, instead using his thumb to rub over my swollen clit.
I’m not going to last but three fucking seconds.
His thumb disappears, and I nearly beg for him to replace it, but Liam eyes me from his position on the floor, and I snap my mouth closed in silence.
He doesn’t make me wait long, placing his palm over my center as he rises back to his feet and gently spanks my sex.
I suck in breath, the element of surprise adding to my arousal.
He does it again as he grins wildly, as it makes a loud, wet slap.
Then he leans into me as he slowly slips two fingers inside me, causing my hips to buckle.
He works me in a rhythm that comes so easily to him.
I start shaking. Not from the cold or wet of the winter we just escaped from. No, because Liam is seconds away from giving me the hardest fucking orgasm of my life.
A sharp sensation spikes through me. I slam my eyes closed, reading myself for the high about to ripple through me.
But Liam stops. Pulls me from the counter.
I wrap my legs around his waist, trying to ignore his cock as it rubs against me momentarily.
When I open my mouth to protest, to curse him for leaving me so close and wanting, he sticks his fingers in my mouth. Like, he knows that’s the only way to silence me right now.
An unfamiliar tang coats my tongue.
He pries them from my mouth, only to replace them with his lips. Crashing his own against me, like he’s desperate to remember what I taste like. His tongue sweeps my mouth, both claiming and searching. I press my chest against his, the scrape of my nipples against him a torment.
Thankfully, Liam doesn’t need help remembering which bedroom belongs to me.
He tosses me on the bed and stares over me, the darkness of my room making it nearly impossible to see one another. But I can see enough of him to realize he’s turning for the door, like he’s about to leave me aching and soaking without so much as goodbye.
No. He’s not about to do this again—leave me wanting him. Fuck. No.
Right before he reaches for the door, I stop him, suddenly understanding. “You don’t need a condom, not unless you want to. If so, I understand. But like I said—” I swallow.
Liam turns around instantly. He flips me onto my stomach, without so much as a second thought. In one fluid motion, he angles my ass so it’s inclined in the air.
I want to laugh at him, seeing him this way, so different from the soft and gentle man I know and love—I shake my head at my admittance, now is not the time for that.
“Liam—” I start, uncertain what I planned to say after.
“I thought we said no talking?” he says in a low, sensuous voice.
I gulp.
Liam takes in a deep breath as he spanks my backside. I snort, nearly laughing at my punishment. But my amusement only causes him to do it again. Not hard, he’d never want to hurt me. But just enough for me to arch against it as his erection pushes against the back of my leg.
My face and chest are pressed deep into the mattress, patiently awaiting him.
Liam trails the soft head of his cock up and down my center, and I twitch with pleasure.
Then he edges himself in, one fucking brutal inch at a time.
My fingers curl around the bedding as he slowly deepens his stroke, his length stretching and filling me a little each time. When I’m certain I can’t take it anymore, still desperate and wanting release, he slams the final bit of himself in, and I gasp.
“I said quiet.” He growls. And though I’m not facing him, I can practically feel his satisfied grin.
He pulls out, and the feeling of his absence is striking, leaving me aching for him to fill me once more. And he does, slamming himself back inside me. My eyes roll back, forgetting just how much I missed this.
How perfectly we fit together.
When I’ve adjusted to the feel and size of him, I push my ass back into him, needing a faster pace. Liam doesn’t hesitate, quickening his strokes as one hand reaches around my hip, finding the swollen bundle at my center.
His finger twirls and flicks my clit.
Suddenly it’s too much—the sensation of his fingers over me, the hard length of him inside me. My breathing becomes unsteady, my head rolls back as I’m desperate to call his name.
But it’s Liam who breaks the silence as he practically begs, “Not yet.”
I swallow, trying to obey the command.
“Not yet. Wait for me.” He moans as he withdraws his hand from my center. But I don’t complain because his hands find my hips as he grips me firmly, pulling me forward and back as he continues sliding inside me.
Oh. Fuck.
“Wait for me.” He orders again.
But my ears are buzzing. My knees are buckling.
I can’t catch my breath as the sensation at my center is reaching an impossible peak.
Liam wraps a hand around my hair, yanking my neck back.
“Wait.” He growls. “For.” He sucks in a sharp breath.
“Me.” He slams himself in one last time, plunging inside me, and I know from his breathing and the tension filling me he’s close.
Finally he calls out, “Aubs!”
And I explode. My vision goes black as pleasure ripples through me, stealing my breath as I moan for him.
Hard. Violent. Filling.
He stiffens, coming inside of me with a loud groan, the soft pulsating of his cock wringing me free of the last drops of my own pleasure.
I collapse, unable to hold my ass in the air a moment longer, and he falls forward on top of me. My hips twitch as he pulls himself free.
Liam rolls me over so I can face him.
He runs a hand through my hair, and I know he’s searching, ensuring I’m still okay with what just happened between us.
When I finally determine it’s safe to break the silence, I say, “Can we do that again?”
He throws his head back in laughter as he leans in to press a kiss against my lips. His forehead finds mine as we breathe one another’s air.
“But this time I want you to talk me through it.”
He pulls back, his jaw clenching, and I’m certain I feel his dick harden again. “Climb on up,” he orders, lying on his back, tucking a muscular arm under his head. “I want to watch you this time.”
Who am I to disobey orders?