Men who didn’t work out. Who never worked out. Who ended up being all wrong.
Even though he was commanding her to come closer, he wouldn’t stop her if she turned around and went back to the couch. She sensed that about him. He wasn’t some sadist out to hurt her. He was your everyday run-of-the-mill sheep farmer hermit.
Who wanted her to come closer.
Holy hell.
Moistening her lips, she walked forward on legs that felt as steady as Jell-O. She stopped when her knees brushed the mattress.
He sat forward. The covers pooled around his waist. He gripped the hem of her shirt where it hung to her knees.
“Those sounds you were making…” His eyes fastened on her face as he spoke. “You sounded like a woman getting fucked.”
His outrageous words ran through her like a bolt of lightning, straight to her aching core. “Oh.” The single word escaped her, small and useless.
“But how can that be?” His voice was soft and dangerous. She felt it. It moved through her like a curl of heat. He angled his dark head, those vivid eyes of his intent on her face. “You’re all alone over there on my couch.”
She nodded wildly in agreement, on the verge of saying it was impossible.
But then his hand was under her shirt.
Oh. God. He was touching her. His fingertips grazed the tops of her thighs. She felt like her legs might give out.
“Were you touching yourself over there?” his deep voice husked. “Fucking yourself with your wee hand?”
She was standing with her legs slightly parted. There was just enough room for his hand to find its way between her legs, but even so she adjusted her feet involuntarily, parting her legs wider, granting him access to her throbbing center.
His breathing hitched. “Let’s see then.”
She wasn’t wearing any panties. With no barrier, his fingers slid against her folds. She cried out at the first touch of his fingers on her aching flesh.
His pupils looked darker, larger. “Oh, you’re soaking wet,” he growled, his fingers brushing over her clit.
This couldn’t be real. She was still dreaming.
“Is this for me?” His finger moved on, dipping to her opening.
She bit her lip to stop herself from crying out.
“Answer me,” he commanded.
She swallowed back a sob and nodded, broken and bared before him and not caring. “Y-yes.”
His thumb moved up, brushing her swollen clit and she shuddered, her hand dropping to the edge of the bed for support. Her head bowed and her hair fell in a tangled curtain, hiding her face. She was grateful for that. Grateful he could not see her eyes rolling back in her head.
“I could hear you from here. All those little moans.” He pushed up with his thumb, pressing just a fraction inside her, but it was enough. Enough to make her gasp. Enough to push her right to the brink of orgasm. “I could smell your pussy from across the room. So wet and cock-hungry.”
She swallowed back a cry at his filthy words. No one had ever said such dirty things to her. It should horrify her. She should stumble away and slap his face like a good little girl who grew up on casseroles and Sunday church.
Instead, she shook. She was so close.
“You’re right there and I’ve barely done anything to you.”
He was wrong. He’d done far more than any man had when it came to getting her off.
Gripping the edge of the bed with both hands now, she closed her eyes and bore down harder on that thumb, riding it and seeking more pressure.
Then, all at once, his hand was gone.
What the hell? She almost fell forward, but her hands on the mattress saved her. She bit back a cry of frustration at the sudden loss and lifted her eyes to him.
His expression had gone dark and feral, and she marveled she had done that to him.
He brought his thumb to his mouth and tasted her. His eyes drifted shut as though savoring her. As though she was something sweet and delicious. Her stomach dipped. Oh. God. Charlie would never have done that. He would have thought it disgusting. He wasn’t a proponent of cunnilingus in any degree, and he had convinced her she wasn’t either.
Clearly she had been lying to herself.
He slid his thumb out of his mouth and leaned forward, bracing his arms on the bed between them, his biceps strained and flexing. “You have two choices.”
Her stomach muscles fluttered. She watched him raptly, mesmerized by his face, his beautiful lips as they formed those words in a voice that was the embodiment of sex.
Without tearing his eyes from her, he nodded toward the couch. “You either turn around and go back to that couch and stop touching yourself and making those little come-and-fuck-me sounds.”
Everything inside her sank and deflated like a dying balloon at that option. She didn’t want to do that.
“Or…” His eyes were blue fire. Heavy-lidded and intense. He leaned forward like he might lunge off the bed at any moment. “You join me on this bed ready to fuck.”
A heavy breath pushed out of her lungs. Well, that left no room for vagueness.
He was out of the bed. With two strides he was in front of her. Tall and broad, a veritable wall. An impressive erection tented the front of his briefs, proof of his desire.
He followed her gaze to his cock and then looked up at her.
She opened her mouth and stammered, “I-I…”
“Make a decision. Go run to yer couch or get in my bed. No misunderstandings. No games.” His hot gaze crawled over her face, reading God knew what in her expression.
You can do this, Thea. You owe it to yourself. You can have a fling. Take what you want for once in your life with no guilty voice saying you can’t.
He reached for her and threaded his fingers through her unruly hair. “What’s it gonna be, Goldilocks? You gonna take what you want?”
It wasn’t arrogance. Okay, he was arrogant, but it was the truth. She did want this. She wanted him. And he knew it.
She released a shaky breath and nodded jerkily.
In that moment she felt everything crumble away like bits of sediment from a cliff. Her grandmother giving her all kinds antiquated misogynistic advice. Boyfriends who only made her feel bad about herself.
They vanished. They were gone. Things of the past.
There was only now. This. Him. Her.
His big hand flexed in her hair. “Say it. Say the words.”
She swallowed and stopped nodding. That was fair. Consent was important. He deserved to hear it from her before they went any further. More than that. He needed to hear it. And she needed to say it.
“Yes. I want to join you in the bed.” There. That sounded nice. Polite.
“No,” he bit out, his gaze hard and demanding. “Say you want to fuck. Because that’s what this will be.”
Her belly fluttered. She swallowed against the lump in her throat. “I want to fuck you.”