Chapter Three
Cool air swirled around her body as Nick carried her out of the pool, but she barely noticed because his hot mouth seared a path down her throat. She probably looked like an oversize octopus with her arms and legs all wrapped around him, clinging to his hard body.
But who could blame her, because, good Lord, his body. Every chiseled angle and rippling contour of the man promised pleasure. She could already visualize him over her, balanced on strong arms. He’d have his big feet planted solidly on the ground, or the lounge chair, or wherever they needed to go for maximum traction. And his cock. His glorious cock. Anchored by heavy balls, it jutted proudly. Long and thick and just as athletic as the rest of him, not to mention impervious to humble forces like gravity. Her education and career had honed her appreciation for shape and proportion, and she recognized a masterpiece of both when she saw one. It deserved to be sketched and framed, or better yet, memorialized in sculpture. It deserved to be licked, kissed, cradled in her mouth, and savored. The only thing she wasn’t sure she could do was fuck it, because the wide, blunt head bobbed imposingly against her butt with every step he took, and made the parts of her desperate for attention quiver at the notion of being stretched and filled to capacity. More than she could handle? Maybe, but she was sure as hell going to try. Her orgasm had become a wily thing of late, flitting away every time she thought she had it firmly in hand. She was tired of chasing it alone.
He carried her to the lounge chair, but instead of putting her down, he hitched her higher in his arms and licked a bead of water from the very tip of her nipple. The drag of his tongue pulled every nerve in her body taut. She arched her spine, offering him her whole breast. Shoving it at him, really.
But he still wasn’t in a hurry. He raised his head and looked at her. “More?”
“God, yes. Take two, they’re small.”
That earned her a low laugh. “Small has advantages.”
“Does it?” She shivered as he rubbed his rough jaw along the underside of her breast.
“Uh-huh.” He scraped his way to the other breast. “You won’t be too uncomfortable if they get bounced around.”
“Are they in danger of getting bounced around?”
“It’s a definite risk, because I’m going to give you the kind of unrestrained fucking that guarantees you a flashback orgasm anytime someone asks if you had a good time in Maui.”
Flashback orgasm? She liked the sound of that. Then sound cut out entirely, because he closed his mouth over her other nipple and rolled it between his lips. Electricity speared through her—so intense she bucked against him. The move gave her a breath-stealing ride over rugged terrain, and sensations that had eluded her for months suddenly crowded close. The compulsion to hurry gripped her tighter because she didn’t want to lose them. “Oh God, Rider. I hate to break it to you, but if you do that again there’s a pretty good chance I’m going to come right here.”
He simply hollowed his cheeks to suck more of her breast into his mouth.
Her hips couldn’t be still. She grinded on him. “I-I’m trying to warn you…”
He boosted her higher and then let her slide down his hard-packed abs. “Ribbed, for your pleasure. Do what you need to do to take the edge off, Czarina, because the unrestrained fucking portion of the evening is coming. Believe me, you want me to ease you into it.”
Generous of him, and normally she wasn’t above taking things easy, but tonight she needed something else. She pulled his head back, lowered hers, and kissed him hard. “I don’t want to take the edge off. I don’t want easy,” she murmured against his lips as she unhooked her legs from around him. When her toes touched the ground, she reached between them and wrapped her fist around his shaft. It pulsed in her hand. His jaw clenched and his eyelids fought gravity. “I want you to take this big dick you’ve been teasing me with and use it to give me a soul-deep, hurts-so-good, cry-for-mercy orgasm. Can I count on you for that?”
Brown eyes cleared and focused on her. “Grab that condom, Czarina.”
She scrambled to do it and banged her shin against the table in the process.
“Ow.”
A strong arm caught her around the waist and held her steady. The muscles weren’t just for show. He had quick reflexes.
“Maybe you better sit while I take care of the preliminaries.” There was no missing the amusement in his voice or the fingertips trailing down her arm. He took the small foil square from her hand before he flexed the arm he’d wrapped around her and tipped her off balance. The move surprised a gasp out of her, but she needn’t have worried. He simply turned her into a passenger of strength and physics, lowering her onto the lounge chair until he had her reclined the way he wanted her.
He straightened. Pool lights and moonlight played over his body while he tore the foil wrapper. She folded her arm behind her head and enjoyed the view, the anticipation, the…oh damn…he wrapped his hand around his cock and dragged it up the length, pulling skin, lifting his balls, manhandling himself to the right position to roll the condom on. The pulse between her legs quickened. She pressed her thighs together to relieve the pressure.
“Uh-uh.” He planed a knee on the cushion and hooked his hands behind her calves. “No taking the edge off. You didn’t want easy, remember?” He parted her legs. “You wanted…what was it again? A soul-deep, hurts-so-good, cry-for-mercy orgasm?”
Just hearing him say it made her tremble. She swallowed and nodded. “Please.”
One good tug on her legs and he’d scooted her down the chaise until she was flat on her back, arms sprawled over her head. She lowered her chin to her chest and looked at him.
He cocked his brow at her, lifted her legs high, and draped them over his shoulders. Then he leaned in, forcing her knees toward her ears and her toes skyward. Bringing their faces closer. “Better hold on, princess.”
To what? she wanted to ask, but just as she opened her mouth, he thrust his hips—the most brutally satisfying thrust she’d ever experienced. Her breath left her lungs in an inelegant “Gaaah.” Her vision went dark, and the universe shrank to one thing. Him. Lodged inside her so profoundly she didn’t know whether to call the precarious sensation pleasure or pain, and she had a sneaking suspicion there was more of him to take. She didn’t dare move for fear of finding out. Didn’t dare breathe, even though he’d emptied her lungs with the power of his thrust.
Luckily, he didn’t suffer from the same paralysis. He rocked back, almost all the way out. She attempted a quick inhale, but he drove into her again, pushing deeper, making her relinquish the air in another loud gust before it reached her lungs. Pressure built in her chest, her core.
“Look at me.” The low command vibrated through her, loosening places stretched unbearably tight.
Look at him? Such a simple request, but she had a lot on her plate right now, what with keeping her heart beating and her synapses firing and staying conscious while waves of hot and cold washed over her. Drawing on multitasking skills that were second nature to her in any other circumstances, she attempted to do as he asked. His face swam into focus. He was staring at her with intense concentration, as if no detail was too small to escape his attention.
“Breathe, Czarina.”
Right. Oxygen. Very important. She wanted to explain that there wasn’t enough room in her body for full lungs and him, but her voice didn’t work, either. Then he treated her to a quick flex of his hips—an effective little grind that centered the pressure in exactly the right spot—and instinct kicked in. Her chest expanded and she sipped a little air. Those molecules caught fire as they shimmered through her, like sparks off dry kindling, until the tiny shower of heat reached her scalp, the soles of her feet, and…oh yeah…there.
Now that she could feel her extremities again, she realized she’d followed his advice to hold on to something. She’d opted for two fistfuls of his hair. As nonchalantly as possible, she released her death grip.
His eyes crinkled at the corners. “Ready now? I believe you requested the unrestrained fucking?”
“I’m good to go—ohhh…”
He started moving again, and, God bless America, she loved a man who kept his word. He kept it, and kept it, and kept right on keeping it, so energetically the solid teak chair creaked in rhythm with his aggressive pace. His balls drummed her ass. The base of his cock pounded her clit. Both sent thrilling shock waves to a hard-to-reach place inside her—a place where a devastating orgasm swirled like a rare, unstable storm.
The one he was whipping to life promised to ravage her. She arched up to receive it. Her heart raced. Her pulse rang in her ears.
And then stopped.
And then rang again—a weirdly familiar ring, almost like the ringtone of her…
Goddammit. The storm receded, and the real world crashed in like an uninvited party guest. Her family was cock-blocking her from thousands of miles away.
Ignore it. Look, Rider’s ignoring it.
He was, beautifully, with his head pitched forward, his eyes closed in concentration and the flush of hard work coloring his cheeks. As if he knew she was struggling to get back into the zone, his voice filled her ear.
“Christ, I want to go at you all night. I haven’t even felt you come yet, and I’m already thinking about how I’m going to wring the next one out of you.” He punctuated each word with a thrust.
She closed her eyes and concentrated on chasing the storm. It wasn’t so far away. She could get back there before he ever knew she’d been gone. “How? How will you do it next?”
“With my mouth,” he replied instantly. “So I can taste it.”
The thought sent a promising quiver through the territory in question.
“And then—” He broke off when her phone sounded again.
“And then?” she prompted over the disruption. Even she heard the desperation in her voice. What the hell did they want, other than to ruin her night? No. Don’t even wonder. It didn’t matter. She couldn’t control them, but she could control whether or not she let them mess with her plans.
“Then, Czarina, I’m going to flip you over. You’re going to spread your legs as wide as you can, lift that cock-teasing ass of yours, and I’m going to sink into you from behind.”
Yes…yes…yes.
“I’m going to play my way into your pussy so slowly, so gently, you bury your face in your arms and beg, ‘Harder, Rider. Fuck me so hard I can’t sit tomorrow without whimpering your name.’”
As he spoke, he maintained the steady stroke of his body into hers. She clung to his words, the feel of him, and…the sound of her phone. Fuck it. It was no use. The storm evaporated from her horizon like a mirage of clouds from a desert sky, leaving only the desert. Barren, joyless desert. Disappointment beat down on her—so stark she actually had to blink back tears.
What was wrong with her? She had a gorgeous, generous man with an unstoppable cock ready and willing to please her any way she wanted, and she couldn’t block the shit in her head for one lousy night to let him do it. How pathetic. The only thing more pathetic would be allowing him to realize he’d wasted his time. No way. He deserved to walk away completely satisfied tonight. Maybe then she wouldn’t feel like a failure.
Sadly, she had this routine down pat. She was the Simone Biles of making her partner feel successful. She clasped her hands at the nape of his neck and arched her back dramatically. “I’m so close. Don’t stop. Please. Right there. Oh God.” She pitched her voice up. “Oh God. Oh yes.” Point the toes, moan a little louder, clench the inner muscles rapidly, and— “Oh…my…Gawddd!”—stick the landing. Just as she flopped against the chaise in her best impersonation of exhausted bliss, his thrusts quickened.
Her orgasm might be MIA, but apparently her acting skills were still on the job. Equally apparent, he’d been holding back until the job was done. But no more. Braced on his arms, he pumped furiously, obeying a fundamental instinct strong enough to override restraint and flay away layers of charm and civility. She watched in fascination, and a little envy, as pure, primitive pleasure overtook him. A shudder racked his body. His head dropped forward, and his breath came out in a long, ragged groan.
Yep. She definitely nailed the routine. Smiling inside, she closed her eyes and snuggled into the cushion. At least she’d managed to hold on to her pride.
She was so busy congratulating herself on a gold-medal performance it took a moment to realize he was utterly still and silent above her. She cracked an eye to find him staring at her, his mouth curved down at one corner.
She opened her other eye and blinked at him. The frown lingered. “Hey.” She reached out and brushed his hair back from his forehead. “What’s wrong?”
Assessing brown eyes narrowed. “Did you just fake it?”
…
“What? No! Of course not.”
The czarina gave him a wide-eyed look he assumed she intended as guileless and tried to wiggle out from under him, but he had a good eighty pounds on her, and he wasn’t going anywhere. He was fine with fake names and fake histories, but fake orgasms? No fucking way.
Finally, she huffed out a breath. “I had a screaming orgasm. Can’t a guy, um…feel it?”
“Yeah, I know what a female orgasm feels like. Question is, do you?”
She blushed and dropped her gaze to somewhere around his chin, which would have given her away if basic human physiology hadn’t already done it. No postorgasmic engorgement of the subpapillary venous plexus? No dilated pupils? No elevated respiration? No orgasm.
“Yes,” she sighed. “I know what an orgasm feels like. And for the record, I really was close. But then”—she shrugged, not quite pulling off the casual gesture—“it disappeared. No big deal. Don’t take it personally. To be honest, I don’t usually come by just, you know”—she shrugged again—“intercourse.”
He pinched the base of his cock and eased off her in a careful withdrawal. “While I appreciate all your honesty, Czarina”—she had the grace to blush at the unsubtle reminder of her lack of honesty—“this particular gem of truth comes a little late, don’t you think?”
She sat up and swept her hair away from her face. “I don’t know what you mean.”
Translation? She didn’t want to discuss it. Another dismissal, reinforced by the way she turned and started digging through her purse. The black curtain of hair she’d pushed back a moment ago draped forward to obscure her face from his view.
Too damn bad, because he knew the score. She hadn’t picked him up at the bar because she’d wanted more of his conversational skills. Tonight wasn’t about getting to know each other better. Hell, she didn’t even want to know his real name. No, he’d had one job. Deliver a soul-deep, hurts-so-good, pray-for-mercy orgasm, and he’d failed on his first attempt. Now he owed her one—a debt he took seriously—so he wasn’t going to be so easily dismissed. “I mean, this would have been good information to share with me before you decided to give up and bring things to a unilateral conclusion.”
She sighed and held out a tissue to him. “You are taking this personally.”
He accepted the tissue and dealt with the condom. Fine, maybe he was. The universe had a way of keeping everything in balance, and he was no exception. He wasn’t cut out for relationships—his first serious attempt had fucked him up beyond repair—but to offset that sad reality, he excelled at sex. Orgasms on tap were pretty much what he had to offer, and he’d promised her one. His ego refused to admit defeat. But there were better ways to go about delivering on his promise than calling her out on her fakery.
She’d gone back to rummaging through her purse. Correction. Checking her phone. He moved the fall of her hair behind her shoulder and discovered her scowling at the small screen. “I’m taking it as a signal I need to ask a few questions, so this next round, when you scream my name, you’re not polluting that beautiful mouth with a lie.”
That got her attention. She raised her head and looked at him—a distinctly hopeful look. “Next round?”
“We said ‘all night.’” He leaned in and nibbled the curve of her neck, and got a shiver and a giggle in return. Yep, definitely ticklish. She was sensitive as hell. Everywhere. And she enjoyed being kissed. Touched. Stimulated. She’d soaked up all of it like a flower soaked up sunlight. There had been nothing contrived about her responses, until the moment of truth—or deceit, in her case. His instincts told him her head had gotten in the way, not her body. The electronic mood-killer in her hand hadn’t helped, either. “I’ve got plenty of time. You?”
She glanced at the screen of her phone again and then flashed it at him to show him the clock. “Hours.”
“Awesome.” He licked the skin he’d just tickled and ran his palm along the inside of her thigh. “I’m sure you have all kinds of responsibilities back in Siberia you need to monitor, but maybe for the next few hours you can turn the phone off? I won’t tell anyone.”
Her head tilted to the side, giving him access to her neck, and her knee inched closer to his, giving him access to a second chance. “Me, either,” she said, and pressed the button to power it down. When the screen went black, she dropped the phone into her purse.
Better already. He leaned in, biting her earlobe while stroking his way up her thigh. She let out a breathy moan and scooted to the edge of the seat.
He stilled his hand. “You like to be touched?” He already knew she did, but he wanted to hear her say it. Hell yes, he’d taken this personally.
“I have kind of a thing for—” She broke off when he lifted the purse from her lap and tossed it on the side table. “For hands. I noticed yours at the bar.”
His hands? Women occasionally complimented him on how he used his hands, but the look of them? Never. “What did you notice about them?”
She took one in both of hers. “They’re big.” She turned his hand palm side up and traced a line from the tip of his middle finger to his wrist. “Long fingers. Wide palm.” She turned it over and ran her thumb along a raised extensor tendon. “Strong and deliberate. As soon as I saw these hands, I wanted them on me. Touching me however they saw fit. I just wanted to feel.”
She wanted to be held. Handled. She might have fed him a line about her identity, and his, for that matter, but this right here wasn’t a line. He turned his hand over so it covered hers and closed his fingers. “That’s convenient, because the first time I saw you, I wanted my hands on you.” He slipped one arm around her shoulders, the other under her legs, and hauled her onto his lap.
She relaxed against him and lifted her face toward his. “Did you?”
In answer, he glided his palm up her ribs until he covered her breast. She arched into his touch. He kneaded and squeezed, increasing the intensity until she couldn’t keep still. “What do you think?”
Black lashes shielded her eyes. She turned in his arms until her head lolled against his collarbone. “I can’t think.”
He flexed his shoulder to bring her lips closer and claimed her mouth. At the same time, he eased his hand into the juncture of her thighs and cupped her. She rocked into his touch with increasing impatience, but he didn’t move, didn’t accept the unspoken invitation to part those velvety folds and delve inside. “How else do you like to be held? Tell me what you want.”
“I want you.”
“Be specific.”
“You’re so mean,” she breathed. “Are you going to make me beg?”
He ran his finger along the soft seam. “I’m just trying to keep you honest. Where would you like me to touch you next? Is your clit pouting for attention, or would you prefer I slide two fingers inside this poor, deprived pussy?”
“I want…oh God, I want—” A buzz interrupted her heartfelt request. He stilled. Fuck.
“I turned it off,” she nearly shouted, to God, or fate, or Apple. “Why is the damn thing still alive?”
He kissed the corner of her mouth, her cheek, and slowly released her breast. “It’s mine. I’m sorry. I have to check it.”
“Now?” She rolled her hips in a nonverbal demand.
If it had been anyone but the hospital, he would have ignored it. But it was the hospital, and he’d had two especially tricky patients come through the ER this afternoon, either one of which could have given rise to this call. He smoothed his thumb along the velvety strip, reluctant to stop touching her. “Just a check.”
She gave a long-suffering sigh, but shifted off his lap. He leaned forward to snag his phone out of the pile of clothes he’d abandoned less than thirty minutes ago. The message confirmed his worst suspicions. Family members of one of the patients he’d admitted had arrived. The patient was an eighty-six-year-old female suffering from complications of dementia, and not likely to regain consciousness. They had questions, and he was the best source of information about her condition upon arrival.
No, he wasn’t on call, but he could be there in thirty minutes. The right thing to do was go in and offer whatever information he could to help the woman’s family come to terms with a difficult situation.
“You really are going to make me beg, aren’t you?” He looked over to find her staring at him with a pained smile on her face. “NASA emergency?”
“I hate to say it, Czarina, but I have to go.” Forcing himself to his feet, he added a lame, “I’m sorry,” and reached for his pants. He was sorry. Walking away from her was harder than he expected. Some of that was his ego, which balked at not delivering on the screaming orgasms, but some of the sorry stemmed from the fact that he’d had a good time. She was an entertaining bundle of contradictions. Bluntly up-front about what she wanted, but not above resorting to bald-faced lies to get it. A woman game for an anonymous night of fun with a guy she’d never see again, who preferred to fake an orgasm rather than wound his pride…or admit she needed more to get her there. Somehow she managed to be sweet despite the subterfuge, even when he’d called her on her bullshit.
As if to prove his impression, she reclined against the chaise. “It’s okay. I understand.”
It wasn’t okay. It sucked, and she didn’t really understand, because she didn’t know any of the underlying details. But instead of having a completely justified meltdown over him leaving her hanging, or demanding to know why, she simply trusted he had his reasons. She snuggled onto her side to watch him dress, unaware of what a temptation she made with one leg draped over the other and her cheek resting on her folded hands. The position turned her body into a study of curves and shadows. So fucking sexy. Sexier still because it wasn’t the least bit contrived. She was just trying to get comfortable. Probably counting down the seconds until he left and she could take matters into her own hands.
The thought sparked a flare of something hot and sharp in his gut. Not lust—at least not completely. He wanted that orgasm. Wanted to be the one to give it to her. Wanted to witness it. He pulled on his pants, ruthlessly shoving his evolving hard-on to the side so he could fasten them. “Can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“If you don’t usually come during intercourse, why were you so dead set on getting down to it, first thing?”
A blush spread across her cheeks. He was a prick for making her uncomfortable, but she looked so adorable all pink and flustered, he couldn’t bring himself to feel sorry. He picked up his shirt and then sat down next to her on the chaise.
“That was your fault.”
“Mine? I’m not the one who asked someone to take his big dick and use it to give me a soul-deep, hurts-so-good, cry-for-mercy orgasm.”
“No, but you’re the one with the big dick.” She pushed herself into a sitting position and crossed her arms over her chest. “I can’t explain it without sounding stupid, but when you stripped down… No.” She shook her head. “Before then. Maybe even as early as when I first saw you in the bar—I got really hot watching you. The way you moved. Your voice. You gave me this restless feeling, like an ache, in here.” She ran her hand low over her abdomen. “Instead of backing off as we talked, it got stronger. Heavier and…emptier. I’m not sure a guy would understand.”
Maybe not the empty part, but he understood all about heavy and aching. This conversation was bringing him a whole new level of understanding. He didn’t dare touch her, but he nodded.
“Anyway,” she recrossed her arms and went on, “this kind of ache is hard to reach. I mean…” She stared at her toes. “I have my ways for easing it, but it’s like tickling yourself, you know? You can run your fingers over the soles of your feet, and you’ll feel a little tingle, but you’ll never lose control like you can if someone else does it.”
He nodded. “Your mind anticipates the stimuli and suppresses the response.”
“Exactly. It’s pretty hard to get swept away in my own arms. Especially lately.”
Now he did touch her, just the tip of his finger along one rigid shoulder. “What’s up lately?”
“Stress.” She relaxed her shoulders and laughed. “Siberia’s been a shit-storm. Part of the reason for this trip was to get away from all that, but the sources of my stress are proving surprisingly persistent. Tonight, the idea of handing myself over and letting someone fill me until there wasn’t room for anything else sounded like the perfect way of escaping for a few hours. I thought that might work. I might be able to block everything else out and just lose myself in the moment. No complications. No messy reality to ruin things. I wanted to give it a shot.”
She was a woman on vacation, not a patient in his ER. Her stress-induced inability to climax wasn’t his to diagnose, but damn if he didn’t want to solve this for her. Badly. “How long are you in town?” Holy shit. Where had that come from?
Her gaze flickered to his. After a brief silence, during which he could practically hear her debating whether to tell him the truth, she said, “I leave Sunday morning.”
Six days. Not even a week. Plenty of time to work on her little stress problem, and send her home to—ha-ha—Siberia with a smile on her face. He tugged his shirt on. “Give me six days, and I’ll give you the soul-deep, hurts-so-good, pray-for-mercy orgasm you’re craving. Guaranteed.”
Her eyebrows went up. “Guaranteed? You’re awfully sure of yourself, sir.”
“So sure, I’m willing to make you a bet. After you’re done praying for mercy, Czarina, you’re going to tell me your real name. Those are the stakes.” Okay. So that was new data. Apparently he wasn’t cool with fake orgasms or fake names.
“I tell you my name if you win?” She pulled her knees up to her chest and draped her arms around them. “What do I get if I win?”
“In this situation, if you win, you lose—which is not going to happen—but for the sake of parity, if I haven’t fucked the ache out of your hard-to-reach spots by the end of this week, we keep names out of it.”
He watched her face, looking for a clue to her thoughts. She dragged her lower lip through her teeth. “One caveat.”
Inside, he pumped a fist. Outwardly, he smiled. “Name it.”
“I can only give you five dates. I have plans Saturday night.”
“Fine.” Disappointing, actually. He had plans for Saturday night, too, but he’d have canceled his blind date in an instant if she’d been free, though he couldn’t explain why. Five dates would be four more than he needed, not to mention four more than he’d felt compelled to spend with anyone in a long time. “I have a caveat, too.”
She rested her chin on her knees. “Name it.”
He brought his face close to hers while he sneaked a hand into the space between her heels and her backside. “For the next five days, nobody touches this”—he stroked a finger along the silky path he was placing off-limits—“except me.”
“Ohh…kaaay.” She pressed her forehead to her knees for a long beat and then raised her head. “I don’t think that will be a problem.”
He brought another finger into play. Her lips parted, and her pupils expanded. Hell, he was going to give her the best vacation of her life. “None of this.”
The blush made an encore appearance, extra bright this time. “N-not a problem.”
“This rule applies to you, too, Czarina. Understand? No touching yourself here, or here, or even here.”
Her eyelids fluttered. She licked her lips. “I…Lord…how would you know if I cheated?”
He closed his mouth over hers and kissed her damp lips at the same time he closed his thumb and forefinger over the bundle of nerves Mother Nature had designed to help her enjoy sex. Want it. Need it. “I’ll know.” He squeezed firmly enough to make her gasp and clutch his shoulders. “I know exactly how ripe and ready this little clit is. Over the next five days it’s only going to get riper, and readier, unless you sneak in some relief behind my back. So here’s the deal, Czarina. For the next five days, all this is mine.”