CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Teresa
I don’t want to face reality yet. It’s too scary. A fire-breathing dragon that can burn me to a crisp with one well-aimed flame. At the moment, I’m encased on bajillion thread count cotton, my head resting on a manmade cloud. Warmth is a never-ending commodity on all sides, but I’ve chosen the smoothest, most masculine source, snuggling into Will’s back like I’m trying to burrow beneath his spine. My arm has snaked over his hip during the course of the night, our fingers loosely joined.
Oh, please. Please fuck off, dragon.
Just for a little longer.
Hitting my mental version of the snooze alarm, I crack an eyelid and absorb my surroundings. Dim, cool room. The outline and slope of a muscular back, facing the backlit rectangle of encroaching sunshine. His bulk rises and falls in time with easy, rolling snores. They’re not coming from Will, though. They’re coming from the bathroom floor where Southpaw chooses to make his bed.
I could stay like this—just like this—forever.
I’ve already made my bed, though. And it’s one of nails, not warmth.
After Will carried me to bed last night, he disappeared for twenty minutes, but not before I saw the purpose, the resolution squaring his big shoulders. That flight to New York is as good as booked. When he returned to bed, he seemed to tell me so with his body, rolling into the space between my thighs with a firm thrust, tilting my chin up with his hand so I was forced to look him in the eye while he took me. Took me hard. No words were exchanged this time. There were no games. Just Will letting me know I’m his, without question.
My chest twists and I suck in a breath, scooting closer to his solid presence. His breathing changes pace and I close my eyes, savoring the experience of wakefulness reanimating him. His muscles expand, his back arching against me in a lion-like stretch. His bare ass shifts at my belly, making my palms itch to grab two handfuls. I let my fingernails scratch at his belly instead, and he grunts, low and hungry, his abdomen knitting together.
God. God, he’s a beast. I knew it when I saw him in that photograph what feels like a million years ago. I’m a pile of smiles and satisfied limbs and still—still—my clit begins to tingle knowing its lord and savior is awake. My heart does more than tingle, though. It sprints into high gear, trying to burst out of my chest to get closer to Will. Last night he gave me a lifetime of fantasy fodder…but it was so much more than that. Is it ironic that being treated like a call girl has made me feel empowered? Yeah, probably. But just like the fantasy I kept stored in the deepest recesses of my libido, I’ve hidden away so many other things I want.
I want to go to film school. To take it seriously. I want to stop selling myself short and working shit jobs, because I’m afraid to fail.
I want Will.
No. No, I think I might need him.
My hand is enclosed tightly in Will’s, and he guides it lower, scrubbing my palm over his coarse happy trail, sending my already speeding heart up into my throat. Need. He needs again. And that need is mine, even if it might just be for a short time longer. Anxiety tries to cloud around me, but I shake it away, focusing on the heat. The lust stirring inside me.
From their position of honor smashed to Will’s back, my nipples pucker and begin to ache. He rubs my hand against his thick shaft, once, twice, before bringing me to his mouth, licking a path up the center of my palm.
“Help me out, woman,” he rasps, wrapping my hand around his erection, helping me give it that first stroke. “Gonna blow real fast thinking about you lying there, taking it last night. Wet, screaming little thing.”
On a hoarse moan, my thighs squeeze together. In two seconds flat, I go from pretty horny to a bridesmaid who caught the bouquet, then took three shots of tequila and fell down a Tumblr rabbit hole. I’m lying naked in the dark with this sex god’s arousal in my hand, stickiness forming between my legs and I have no inhibitions. None. He threw them down the garbage disposal last night by refusing to let me be ashamed of what I like. What I need. I know what Will needs, too, and I’m going to give it to him now.
While my hand eases down to his base, then chokes up to his tip in slow, firm strokes, I slide up to whisper in his ear. “You take such good care of me, Will.”
His stomach was already bottoming out and shuddering, but with my words, it hits rock bottom and he groans, his big body twisting in the sheets. “Do I, baby?”
“Yes,” I murmur, tracing my tongue along the curve of his ear. Just like my long-hidden fantasy, there was truth threaded through the act, but there was no harm in the occasional blurred edges of those truths. Do I need to be taken care of? No. I pride myself on the opposite. But we’ll both get pleasure out of setting that reality aside. After the selflessness he showed me last night, I happily throw my pride out the window—same as he did for me—and the freedom is inebriating. “No one has ever made me feel this safe. Or given me a bed this soft to sleep in.”
His back heaves with two punctuated grunts, his flesh swelling in my hand. “That’s right. There’ll only be safe places from now on for you.” His grip covers mine, squeezing once, then dropping to handle his balls. I’m almost outraged that my other hand isn’t available to do that for him, but I’m appeased when his body vibrates with pleasure against mine. “Going to treat you like a goddamn queen. My lap is your throne. Sit on it, make a wish and get whatever the fuck you want.”
“Really?” I breathe, awe lacing that single word without me having to think, my intuition simply informing me what Will needs. And that need is so damn hot, because his wanting to play my provider isn’t about him showing off or throwing money around, it’s about him having a deeply woven desire to give. To satisfy.
And I’ve read him right, because with a snarl, he begins thrusting into my fist, hips pumping like a repressed animal. “That’s right, baby.” His groan is choked. “Can’t stop thinking about ways to spoil you rotten.”
“Tell me.”
The drives of his hips slow but remain intense, every inch of him sliding through my fingers to take advantage. Luxuriating, almost. “I’m flying you to New York today on a private plane.” Against my wrist, I can feel his forearm contracting with a rough squeeze of his balls. “Going to introduce you as my girlfriend, going to sit back and watch you sip champagne.”
An even sharper ache begins between my thighs, a hot throbbing that makes me plaster myself against Will even closer, my tongue and teeth going to work on his neck. “And once I’m half drunk on champagne…then what?”
“You know what.” A shudder passes through him, and a spurt of liquid leaks out over my knuckles. “When there’s only five minutes left in the flight, I’m going to take you in back and fuck you so hard against the bathroom door, your legs will still be rubber when I buckle you into our car.”
I’m grinding myself against his ass now, dragging the lips of my sex over the hard slope of the closest cheek. I’m a mindless Will addict with two goals. Make him come in my hand, and find an angle where I can get a single rub of friction for my poor clit. Just one and I’ll lose my mind. “And…and…”
“And what, Teresa?”
His use of my name is what loosens the words stuck in my throat. “When you’re taking me in the bathroom, am I…thanking you for treating me so good?”
I feel it in my stomach. My chest and head. The exact moment our two newborn fantasies combine into one. His need to be a provider and my desire to be possessed. A possession. It’s like having an oxygen mask slapped over my mouth, air inflating my lungs. Will is right there with me, pausing in his relentless thrusts, only to begin anew, pistoning into my tight grip like a man hell-bent on destroying himself. “You want to open your legs and pay fealty to your king, baby?” His words are gritted out. “I’ll accept like the town fucking beggar.”
Will’s body seizes against mine, a choked curse bouncing off the walls of the dark room. Hot moisture coats my still-pumping hand, his back heaving against my front like violent ocean swells. I’m almost there. I’m almost there, but my angle isn’t right and I blindly push at Will’s hips, begging him to understand what I’m asking for, even though I barely know. I’ve never done what I’m thinking and don’t even know if it’s possible, but I need, I need, I need…
Still panting, he turns onto his stomach I climb on top of him, burying my open mouth in his back as I drag my soaked and aching pussy up and down the right curve of his hard butt. In my periphery, I see his hands twist in the sheets, a roar breaking from his throat. “Goddamn. You get that hot jerking me off?”
“Yes,” I sob, pressure climbing my throat, my private inner walls beginning to contract wildly. My writhing movements have parted my flesh, giving my clit the glorious friction it needs, and my orgasm shatters me. A scream ripples up through my chest and I fall forward, stabbing my nails into Will’s flexed biceps, my heart slamming around inside my head. Beating, beating. All of me is beating and clenching until it’s not. I’m not. And I’m just a blind lump of human parts glued to Will’s strong, incredible back. “Morning,” I manage around a yawn.
He shakes beneath me with a warm chuckle. “Damn, Teresa. Just damn.”
I try to lift my head and fail. “What?”
“You make me feel in charge and used at the same time.”
My gut trembles. “Is that good or bad?”
He turns slowly, nestling me back into the pillows, those cut arms like pillars on either side of me. And for the first time this morning, we’re making eye contact. I drown in it willingly, losing my breath all over again. “Good doesn’t cut it, Teresa. I’d kill for what we’ve got here. I’m out of my damn head for you.”
“Thanks for clearing that up,” I say in a shaky whisper. The real world is beginning to creep in around the edges now that Will is talking about the future, the long term—us. I desperately want to block it out, but when I grasp for a distraction, all I find is the driving urge to confess how I feel before it’s too late. “I couldn’t have predicted you, Will. Which seems impossible, doesn’t it?” There’s a hot press of tears behind my eyes, but I will them away. “How could I miss you coming when you make the earth shake beneath my feet?”
“Teresa,” he says on a rush of breath, like I’ve caught him off guard, but he’s still going to collect his unexpected fortune greedily. “Just let it shake. I am.”
“Okay.” I nod, threading my fingers through his hair and wishing I’d had more foresight. Wishing I hadn’t let my lie fester this long. “I-I’ll try.”
“I need you to know, baby. This thing inside me…wanting you spoiled and respected and safe…I’ve never wanted or needed that for anyone else. You did this to me. You’re the only one who could. Understand?” He leaves a gentle tongue kiss on my lips. “We can get nasty in bed and play like you’re a grateful girl. Or like I’m paying for privileges. But you remember that my fucking ground is shaking because of you, too.”
Oh God. Oh God.
This feels like love. Or if not love, something that is rapidly germinating into it. My chest is a wide-open cavity, but I’m also wrapped in security, courtesy of the man above me. I have no experience with love, so I don’t know how to identify it, but…shit, what else feels this way?
So this is it. I have to come clean. If I have a chance in hell of keeping him, I can’t let him climb out of this bed and leave this cocoon where I have some chance of reaching him. “Will.”
His eyebrows draw together at my tone change. “Yeah?”
Southpaw bounds onto the bed, his head tunneling into the scarce space between our bodies. His tongue catches me in the nose and cheek, making me gasp and try to squirm away, eventually giving in to a giggle. Will’s own laugh booms through the dark room as he pushes up, wrapping the dog in a bear hug. “How’s that for a wake-up call, huh?” Will noogies the dog, who reacts with absolute tongue-lolling delight. “Time for his medicine, actually, then I need to get him outside. It’s late.” He winks at me. “For some reason, I’ve been getting the best sleep of my life lately. You know anything about that?”
“Maybe,” I manage around the lump in my throat, seeing my opportunity to tell the truth slipping away as Will throws on a pair of jeans. “Um. I—”
I’m interrupted by a bark, and my nerve fades, fades away like it was never there. Will watches me a moment, before they head out the door and I’m left sitting up in bed, covers clutched to my chest, feeling as though there’s a whirlpool swirling on all sides of me, preparing to suck me down.