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No Reservations: A Fusion Novella by Kristen Proby (4)

~Maura~

 

“You’re not the boss of me.” I glare up at him, but deep down inside, I’m so relieved he’s here. I gather my purse, keys, and briefcase and step out of my car, locking it as I follow him to his SUV. This car is different from the one he had the other night. He gets me settled inside, then walks around and gets in next to me. But rather than drive away, he makes a phone call.

“I need a tow truck, ASAP.” He gives the cross streets of where we are and hangs up.

“I could have done that,” I say, clinging to my purse in my lap. I’ll be damned if he’ll see that I’m shaking. When people started coming outside to stare at me, I got really scared.

“I will not leave you here by yourself in this neighborhood.” His voice is hard, and he seems really mad at me. If he’d just texted me yesterday to tell me that he had my wallet, all of this could have been avoided. I don’t know why he’s so mad at me.

The car is quiet until the tow truck shows up exactly eight minutes later.

“Wow, that was fast.”

“Money can make just about anything happen.” He waves at the driver, but rather than wait to speak to him, Chase drives away. “Give me your address.”

“What about my car?” I look back and see the driver taking care of my vehicle. “Shouldn’t we wait for him?”

“He’s going to fill it with gas and deliver it to your house. After you give me your address.”

“We can just follow—”

“Maura, I need to get you out of here. I know I’ve been to your house before, but I don’t remember the address. For the love of Moses, just give me your fucking address.”

I turn around and glare at him, not at all happy with his tone. He’s so damn bossy. I can take care of my own life, thank you very much.

But rather than argue, I give him my address and sit in silence as he drives through Portland and finds my house.

As soon as he parks in my driveway, I hurry out of his car and stomp up to my porch, unlock the front door, and I hear him get out of the car behind me.

I whirl around and hold my hand out, stopping him just two feet from me. I walk inside and hug the door to me, keeping him out of my house.

“I didn’t invite you in.”

He smirks and leans his shoulder against the doorjamb, his gaze traveling unapologetically up and down my body, leaving heat in its wake, and then he winks at me.

Because being impossibly sexy isn’t good enough.

“But you want to. Don’t you?”

I sigh and roll my eyes, then turn away, leaving the door open behind me. “Fine. Suit yourself. I need to give you your shirt back anyway.” I hurry into my laundry room to retrieve his shirt and return to the main living space to find Chase, his hands in his pockets, looking at a photo of me and Tommy from last year.

“I washed it for you.”

“Who’s this?” He doesn’t turn away from the photo, just stares at it, waiting.

“Tommy.”

“Am I poaching on Tommy’s territory?”

His voice is dead calm. Almost too calm.

“I’m not anyone’s territory. In case you hadn’t heard, slavery is illegal.”

He turns to me now, those sexy blue eyes on fire, and simply waits for an answer.

“Tommy is my best friend.”

“And?”

“And he’s ten years older than me, a writer, and he’s gay.”

He nods once and takes his shirt from my hands, then lays it over the back of my couch.

“I’m a lot of things, Maura. I can be impatient, I’m territorial, and I admit that I have moments of being an asshole. But what I’m not is an adulterer.”

“I’m not either,” I reply, propping my hands on my hips. “There’s no adultery happening here.”

He walks to me now and cups my face, staring down at me intently.

“Are you angry today, Chase?”

“Why do you ask?”

“Because you’re intense, as if you’re angry.”

“I was worried.” He sighs and tips his forehead to mine. “I’m not used to being worried. I’m not used to feeling invested. You could have been hurt today, and I hated the thought of it.”

“I wasn’t hurt.” I let my hands rub up and down his sides soothingly. I haven’t felt the need to soothe someone in a long time. “Thank you for coming to my rescue.”

His lips twitch just before he plants them on my forehead, then he pulls back to look down at me. “I want you. I know you said yesterday that you don’t want sex, so if the answer is still no, I’ll go.”

I frown. I’ve been thinking about what he said all last night when I couldn’t sleep and today when I had a free moment. He’s not the playboy that I’ve thought he is. But I still don’t want something permanent.

Or maybe I do, and that’s the problem.

Hell, I’m confused.

“Please don’t say no,” he whispers, and I look up to find him smiling down at me. His eyes lower to my lips and narrow when I bite them, and I know the answer.

I knew the answer the second he walked up to my car.

“I don’t want you to go.” It’s not a whisper; it’s as clear as day. But rather than push me up against the wall or lead me to the bedroom, he steps back, not touching me at all, and taps his forefinger on his lips, thinking.

“Take your clothes off.”

I blink rapidly and glance around. “My blinds are open.”

“No one can see in here,” he says and waits patiently, and for the first time in a very long time, I’m shy.

He makes me freaking shy.

And we can’t have that. So I raise my chin and grin, happy that I chose the wrap dress that I did today. I reach to the side and pull the string, untying it, and then let it fall in a heap around my feet.

Chase blinks fast, clearly surprised. I step out of my panties, unhook my bra and let it fall, and then stand here, naked, watching his hungry eyes take me in from head to toe.

I’m not perfect. Not by a long shot. But he’s seen it all before, and frankly, he keeps coming back for more, so I have nothing to feel ashamed of when it comes to my body.

He walks to me. He leans in like he’s going to kiss me, but he doesn’t. He licks me from my neck, down between my breasts, over my navel, and to my pubis. I have to lean my hand on his shoulder to keep from falling over.

“Sit on the dining room table.”

“Excuse me?”

“Sit on the dining room table.”

I frown, but walk over and boost myself up on the side of it, my feet resting on a chair. Chase pulls the chair away, grips my ass in his strong hands, and pulls me to the side of the table, making me lie back.

“Put your hands over your head.”

I comply.

“Keep them there.”

“Are you always this bossy?”

“You seem to have put me in a mood,” he replies, running his hands firmly over my skin, setting me on fire. “Don’t move. If you move, I’ll stop.”

“I’m definitely not gonna move.”

He leans over me, grinning down at me, and kisses my lips softly, then sinks in, kissing me thoroughly. His hand glides down my side to my leg and he stops there, rubbing his thumb back and forth.

“I have a thing for your legs,” he says.

“Do you?”

“Fuck yes.” He catches my chin in his teeth, then kisses me gently there. “I’m going to do things to you today, Maura.”

“What kind of things?”

“I’m going to make you moan. Make you want to squirm. Make you forget your own fucking name. I’m going to make you feel so good you can’t stand it.”

“Oh my.”

He smiles and kisses me once more before licking and nibbling his way down my body. He pays extra attention to my nipples, of course. He seems to have a thing for those too. Just when I think he’s going to bury his face in my pussy, he kisses my inner thigh, right where it joins my core. That crease might be the most sensitive on my body, and he’s taken up camp there, nibbling, licking.

I want to reach down and bury my hands in his hair, but I remember his warning, so I fist my hands and try to focus on something else.

My ceiling is copper tiles. I could count those.

But then he moves down my thigh and I breathe a sigh of relief, ready to enjoy a nice, leisurely exploration of my legs.

And then he licks the back of my knee.

And pushes my leg up so he can lick the back of my thigh, just below my ass.

And I can’t stand it. I moan and arch my back, wanting to touch him so badly.

“Keep your hands above your head,” he says, as if he can read my mind. “How much do you work out your legs?”

“I don’t know,” I reply and lick my lips. Who the fuck cares? I can’t concentrate on anything right now, aside from the fact that his hands and lips are on me, and it’s making me crazy.

“Tell me.”

“Twice a week,” I say on a sigh. He’s moved to the other leg now, and how that one is more sensitive than the other, I have no idea.

“For a short woman, you have incredibly long legs.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

I feel him smile against the inside of my thigh, and I sigh. He has just enough scruff on his face to make it so I feel every move he makes, and I’m clamoring for more, wanting to scream for him to bury his face in my pussy and make me come like crazy.

But the other part of me, the masochistic part, wants to wait and see where he takes this. He’s never disappointed me in the past. I have no reason to think he will now.

He gets down to my ankles, then stands, lifting my legs and hips with him because he’s so tall, and smiles down at me.

“How are you doing?”

“Oh, you know, just a normal Tuesday afternoon around here.”

He laughs and lets my legs fall open, stepping between them and covering me so he can cup my face and kiss me deeply.

“I didn’t move,” I say when he leans up.

“Good girl.”

“Do I get a prize?”

He smiles and unzips his jeans, pulling a condom out of his pocket.

“Do you carry a condom in your pocket every day, or was I a sure thing?”

He sets the condom aside and covers me once more, brushing a lock of hair off my cheek.

“You’re not a sure thing, and I don’t carry condoms on me every day. But a man can hope for the best, Maura.”

I grin up at him. “That’s true. Can I move now?”

“Hell yes.”

Thank God!

I grip his shoulders, then his sides. “You really need to be naked.”

“You think?”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

He quickly shucks out of his shirt and pants, and reaches again for the condom. I raise up on my elbow and grip his dick in my hand, leading him where I want him. He swears under his breath, and both of us watch as the tip disappears, and then the rest of him slides home.

I don’t lie back down. I hold onto him as he takes me on the ride of my freaking life. His body is amazing. Lean and long. Sculpted. Ridiculous. His skin is smooth and I just can’t stop touching him.

He slips his hand under my hips, tilting me up just a bit, and the tip of his cock hits my spot, and just like that I see stars and feel my body completely shiver, coming hard around him.

He follows me over, and when the earth is under me again, I open my eyes to find us both panting, sweating, and grinning from ear to ear.

“You’re fun,” he says and kisses my cheek before pulling out of me and sauntering down the hall to the bathroom. I hurry to pull my dress on. I hear the toilet flush, the faucet run, and then he comes back out again, walking unabashedly nude, still half-hard. Rather than reach for his clothes, he pulls me against him and kisses me until I’m boneless.

Again.

He’s whistling when he pulls away and begins putting his own clothes back on. I lean against the table, arms crossed over my chest, less convinced that we shouldn’t do this again.

Because it’s not just great, it’s fucking incredible.

And who doesn’t want to have incredible sex?

Once he’s dressed, he runs his fingers through his messy hair and sighs. “Let me take you out to dinner.”

I frown. “I don’t think we’re dating, Chase.”

He tilts his head, watching me. “You know, I can deal with a lot of things, but I will not deal with you cheapening whatever this is between us. It’s not conventional, it’s absolutely not traditional, but it’s not cheap.”

“No, I wouldn’t call it cheap. I’d call it sex.”

I stand my ground on this one. I have no intention of dating Chase. I need to get my head wrapped around the fact that I’m screwing him on a semi-regular basis.

“Okay,” he says with a shrug. “If you don’t want to eat with me, that’s fine.”

“I’m not trying to be a bitch.”

“Could have fooled me there.” He winks at me, and I want to smack him. But he turns and walks out, starts his car, and leaves. I glance outside to see my car parked at the curb.

The tow truck driver was fast.

I check the time and gasp in surprise. It’s way past six. We were fucking on my dining room table for more than an hour.

Is that even possible?

I laugh and walk back to my bedroom, ready for a shower and some comfortable clothes. Apparently, it is possible.

 

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