Chapter Eleven
From Natalie’s rules for Foster Boyd, v1
Rule #6: Both of you have done a ton of wonderful and meaningful work, using your wealth to try to make a difference in the world and change things that aren’t fair. And that’s great! But, sadly, a lot of your efforts to enact positive change are overshadowed by the more salacious details because they sell more papers and get more ratings than your good work. I need you to focus on acting and living in accordance to the values you so clearly have defined with your efforts to further mankind. After all, anything worth doing is worth doing well, right? (And before you tell me that is a cliché, I’m going to remind you that clichés become clichés because they’re often correct. Otherwise, they wouldn’t bear repeating, now would they?)
Was she supposed to talk him out of seducing her? Because she couldn’t quite find the enthusiasm to do so when he had his hands on her body. He apparently slept naked, so there was literally no barrier between her eyes and acres and acres of exceptionally sexy and interested male.
She’d barely dressed herself, come to think of it. The shirt dress was businesslike, but wearing only it and undergarments left her practically naked, really. But it wasn’t like he’d even noticed what she was wearing before today, so who cared?
Oh, she cared. Right as he danced those skillful fingers up her thigh, she cared a lot. “I didn’t dress for seduction, I dressed for work,” she warned him.
“Shh,” he answered. “Let me unwrap the package slowly. It’s fun for me.”
Who was she to ruin a man’s pleasure? Especially when the man in question sat up and crawled to the foot of the bed to peek under her dress. Dragging kisses up her thigh, he brought her flesh to life one inch at a time, nibbling a bit right as she thought she knew what to expect next.
“A thong?” he said in surprise. “Nice choice.” He cupped her ass in his palms while she laughed.
“Am I allowed to touch you this time?” she asked.
“Maybe. Maybe not,” he replied. “Nice bra.”
“Thanks,” she said, but he pulled the cups down to reveal her breasts and didn’t seem altogether interested in the fabric he’d just complimented. He bit down on her nipple, causing her to cry out in surprise.
While she was still sizzling in the tension his nip caused, he slid her shirt up her body and over her head. She thought he planned to take off the shirt entirely, but instead he pulled it off one arm, twisted the fabric between the rungs on his headboard, then twined the other end back around her wrist.
“Hold onto this, okay?”
“If your brother comes in again, I can’t be held accountable for my actions,” she warned him.
His smile had a bit more of its power back when he answered, “He can watch. We’re not stopping.”
She shivered, not entirely sure if it was because of his determination or of the idea of his brother watching as he took her. Good lord, she had a dirty mind.
He spent a good amount of time on her breasts, each pull of his lips on her flesh seeming to have a direct line to the nerves between her legs. She shivered, the heat rising as the pressure built in her belly, and she tugged on the shirt turned restraint restlessly. Her legs rubbing together brought her no relief, and she found even less as he took his big hands and used them to spread her across the bed.
He knelt between her legs, gazing up at her body through the barrier of that lock of blond hair that fell over his brow, and she thought she might come just from the erotic look in his eye. His dick twitched, proving he wasn’t unaffected by their play.
“I’m going to taste you,” he whispered.
“I had a feeling that might be where this is going,” she teased, trying for a casualness she didn’t feel.
Because she had to pretend. It felt too real, to important, to something for her to let him know how much it meant to her.
How much he was coming to mean to her.
“Don’t interrupt,” he warned her. “Or I’ll keep you on the edge of orgasm until you’re begging again.”
She closed her mouth with a snap.
“Good girl,” he whispered, thumbs tracing circles on her thighs. “As I was saying, I’m going to taste you. Sit up,” he began. Those thumbs had traveled between her legs. He grazed against her clit with his left thumb, and her hips bucked to try to increase the pressure. “Sit up and face the wall.”
She wanted to ask why he’d laid her out like this, if he wanted her to sit up, but it occurred to her that he hadn’t told her she could speak. And she wanted to come so damn badly.
Instead of questioning him, she rolled over, twisting her arms but not freeing herself from the restraint. The fabric slid easily up the bar, and the flitting thought of him doing this to other women crossed her mind.
She couldn’t work up the enthusiasm to care. If he’d slept with five women or five hundred, did it matter if he was using the skills he picked up to satisfy her? She sure as hell didn’t mind.
Her wrists were twisted, caught between the bed and the wall, but she was more interested in what he was doing. First, he shoved the pillows off the bed with a trembling hand. That little tremor in his movement—it said so much. His touches had weight, as if they mattered more than a morning quickie. As if each touch was important.
But then he was stroking his hands across her skin, learning her curves and biting her right at the shoulder, and she was moaning. It felt so damn good. His fingers dug into her scalp, pulling on her hair as he tilted her head back to take her mouth. The kiss dragged out, firing her senses as he used her hair to guide her deeper into his embrace. One of his palms spread, practically covering her whole belly, as he held her so close to him that she could feel his heart thump in her spine. His cock bumped into her ass and she arched back, aching to be filled. Needing him inside her.
He smacked her ass with his open palm, hard enough to sting. “No rushing it,” he warned.
He moved away from her, and she whimpered.
But he was just repositioning himself. In seconds, he’d pushed her legs farther apart and pulled his face between them, so that she knelt over his head.
“You’re lovely, my Natalie. A delicacy, and I find that I crave your taste on my tongue.”
If his words weren’t erotic enough, the feel of his lips just brushing her pussy would have done it for her. His breath tickled her flesh, teasing at the pleasure he could bring her, and she had to force herself not to drop lower, grinding her aching need against his face.
His hand slid between them, a rough pressure as he pressed his palm against her body. She rocked on it a few seconds, and he didn’t stop her.
But then he had his mouth on her body. His fingers pressed inside until he reached the bundle of nerves that sent her flying. The things he could do with his tongue…oh. She couldn’t control her body anymore, giving over to impulse and grinding down to get more of his touch, more of him, just more.
And then the pressure erupted, firing her body into twitches as the orgasm shattered everything that made her logical and sane. Moans filled the room, and it took her a moment to realize it was her, as she jerked above him like a wild animal.
He moved away from her, but she could do nothing more than quake, little aftershocks of pleasure igniting in her like fireworks dotting an inky black sky.
But he wasn’t done, his hands sliding over her body again from behind. Molding her breasts before tugging roughly on her nipples. Not enough to hurt, exactly. But enough to have her clawing at the restraints, shoving her ass back toward him in desperation.
“Lower,” he commanded, but his voice had gone rough. She obeyed the hand pressing on her spine, lowering herself until her ass was in the air and her bound hands above her head. She could see him from this position, an upside-down god from mythology, intent on domination.
Then his fingers were on her again, sliding inside, fingering her until she was panting for him. Once he’d slid on a rubber, he eased inside her body slowly, inch by inch.
“Are you ready?” he asked in that rough voice. That unknown voice, the one that sounded so much more primal and guttural compared to his normally cultured way of speaking.
He was fully seated, so it only took reaching forward for him to tweak one nipple. “I asked if you were ready,” he repeated.
“Foster,” she whispered, her voice gone. “Please,” she managed.
He pulled out of her and his moan matched hers in volume and desperation. When he slammed home, she shoved back on her restraints to meet him. They danced like that for moments or centuries, she wasn’t sure, but the burning built up again, this time to molten levels. She was going to fall into pieces, ones she might not be able to reassemble when he was done, but dammit, the ride would be worth the fall.
When she came, she lifted her head, arching her neck as she almost screamed out her release. It was too big, too much, and her body couldn’t hold it all in, so it escaped as a sound. His fingers dug into her hip as he drove home one last time, then he cried out, catching her hair in his fist as he jerked, spilling inside her as if she’d dragged the orgasm from the very depths of his soul.
Once it was over, she couldn’t move. Couldn’t do anything besides shiver in reaction. He freed her hands from her shirt, and she was surprised to see even her fingers were fluttering, as if her nerves had gone into overdrive and couldn’t remember how they were supposed to function.
He pulled her close, those big hands of his rubbing her skin until she could breathe steady again. With one of her shaking hands, she touched her face, surprised to realize that she’d cried.
He rained kisses across her shoulder, tucking her into his body as if he’d hold her until she could put herself back together again. “Yeah,” he finally whispered. “I’m going to have to go back for seconds. This wasn’t enough.”
Her laugh was shaky as she rolled to face him. “Next time, I get to touch you,” she said.
He shrugged, smiling at her. The little dimple winked out at her, making an appearance like the sun breaking through the clouds. “We’ll see.”