Читать книгу Fall Into You - Roni Loren, Roni Loren - Страница 15

The night was filled with a harmony of frogs and crickets as Grant headed back to his house after checking on things at The Ranch. He had interviewed a potential trainee tonight—one who was having trouble letting go of control in her scenes with other doms. She’d been pretty and open to the type of play he enjoyed. She’d read through his contract and didn’t have any major sticking points. But once he’d started talking to her, he figured out one thing rather quickly—he had no desire to tie her up and beat her. And that was a damn shame.

So instead, he’d thanked her for her time and had gone back to work. He’d ended up spending half an hour mediating a tiff between two longtime members over who had reserved what playroom when, then had worked the floor for the rest of the night. But instead of all that business clearing his mind, walking the play spaces had only inspired images of his new “neighbor” and how she would look naked and restrained on all that equipment—how she’d feel writhing beneath his hands and mouth.

In the end, he’d left with a hard-on and headache. Not exactly the kind of night he’d been craving.

He took a swig from the bottle of water he’d grabbed on his way out and made the last turn in the path toward his place. The glow of his porch light burned in the distance. Almost home. But snapping twigs and a muffled curse somewhere off to the left had him slowing his steps. He turned, squinting through the inky darkness and cluster of trees. “Hello?”

More unintelligible sounds, then a clear “goddammit.”

Uh-oh. He took a step in the direction of the noise. “Charli? Is that you?”

“No.”

But it was. Even having just met her, he would recognize that slight rasp in her voice anywhere. Despite his best efforts, the sound went straight to his groin every damn time. Something about that hint of hoarseness made him think of how she would sound when she cried out in pleasure. Or pain. He was a fan of both.

He adjusted the front of his jeans and made his way through the grove of trees, almost afraid of what he’d find. Once he got to the other side and the moon offered enough light to find her, he discovered Charli sitting in a puddle of mud with her hands above her head, holding something.

“What in the hell?”

She looked to the heavens and groaned. “Can you take this please? If it gets wet, they’ll probably fire me.”

He grabbed the device from her, an iPad from what he could tell, and offered her a hand. “Need some help?”

“I got it.” She pushed herself up and then grimaced when she put weight on her right leg. “Ouch.”

He had to hide his own grimace, but for a completely different reason. Since he’d left her earlier, she’d changed into boxers and a T-shirt—both of which were now soaked and covered in mud. If it had been anyone else, it would’ve been comical. But all he could focus on was how the garments now clung and outlined every naked part beneath—curves and dips and points. Mud wrestling had never sounded so tempting.

He cleared his throat, thankful for the dark night as his cock hardened behind the fly of his pants. “Are you all right?”

“I think I tripped over a root or something.” She shifted her weight to her other foot and winced a bit. “Pissed off my ankle.”

He frowned at the way her words stumbled into each other, hearing the slight slur in her voice for the first time. Apparently the wine had made it over to her cabin. “Let me help you get back to your place. Do you need me to carry you?”

She shook her head, swaying on her feet ever so slightly. “I can…manage. Just carry the tablet so I don’t get any of this on it. Don’t need another talk from the boss, now do I?”

She took a few hobbling steps and tilted to the left. He reached out and grabbed her elbow. “Enjoyed the wine, Charli?”

“It was soooo smooth,” she said, flashing him an off-kilter smile and stumbling another step. “And potent.”

“So I see.” He tightened his grip, halting her. “Tell you what. This isn’t working. Wait here and don’t move.”

Before she could protest, he left her standing there in the dark and jogged toward her cabin. She’d thankfully left the door unlocked, saving him the trouble of going to his place for the key. Once inside, he found the half-empty bottle of wine and a cupcake wrapper. The roasted chicken he’d sent over looked untouched. He set her computer tablet on the counter and grabbed a large towel from the bathroom.

He hustled back outside, finding she had followed his instruction, something that gave him more pleasure than it should have. He handed her the towel. “Clean off what you can, then I’m carrying you the rest of the way. You may have sprained your ankle.”

“I don’t need to be carried. I’m fine.”

“This isn’t a negotiation. You’re injured and drunk.”

She raised a finger to him. “I am n—”

He cocked his head, giving a pointed glance at her muddied state, and she clamped her mouth shut. With unsteady movements, she wiped off her bare legs and cleaned her arms and hands.

He looked over her shoulder toward the fields, trying to do anything but watch her spread that wet mud along that freckled skin. “What were you doing out here anyway?”

“The Internet signal sucks. Thought if I got close enough to your cabin, I could catch your wireless if you had it.”

“You could’ve called me.”

She gave him a warning glance, no doubt anticipating a hindsight lecture, but he kept quiet. Some things didn’t need to be said.

Once she’d cleaned off what she could, Grant bent and put an arm beneath her knees and under her back, lifting her with one swift movement and catching her by surprise based on the hitch in her breath.

“You’re going to throw out your back, you know?”

He gave her a wry look. “I’ve carried injured men on the battlefield. I can handle one little sports reporter.”

“Little?” She snorted. “I’m almost six feet tall.”

“You’re small to me. Live with it.”

She kept quiet the rest of the walk back to the cabin, though he wished she would’ve kept chattering—anything to take his mind off the fact that she was pressed up against him and that she clearly had no bra on under that wet T-shirt. Those pert nipples would fit so perfectly in his mouth, would look so pretty in clamps. He forced himself to keep his eyes forward.

“It’s not good to stomp around here in the dark,” he said, his voice coming out gruffer than he intended. “We’re not in the city, freckles. A twig gotcha this time, but there are animals out here, too—coyotes, bobcats, snakes. They keep away from the lit areas of the resort, but you never know what you’ll find over here in the shadows.”

“I had only planned to be out for a minute.” She rested her head against his shoulder, and he wondered if she even realized she was doing it or if the wine was softening her.

He bumped open the cabin door with the toe of his boot and turned sideways to fit them both through the door. “And look how much trouble you got yourself into with only a minute in your pocket.”

“The half a bottle of wine didn’t hurt,” she said, the words sliding off her lips like lazy raindrops. “Made me forget about my shitty day for a little while, too.”

He set her down gently in the slate-tiled bathroom and opened the door to the walk-in shower to turn on the spray. He wanted to ask her more about her day, but he’d already tried that earlier and she’d instantly shut down. He kept his back to her and adjusted the knobs. “The water takes a minute to heat, but it should help sober you up at least.”

He started to turn around, but the sound of wet cloth smacking hard tile was like a sonic boom in his ears. His feet rooted to the spot as he caught the faint reflection in the shower glass of Charli bending and slipping off her shorts. Another plop as the boxers hit the floor. The steam fogged the glass before she straightened, but he had no doubt she was standing naked behind him. “Uh, Charli, I’m still in here.”

“So,” she said, sounding like a petulant teenager. “Didn’t ya know? Guys don’t think of me as a girl. So no harm.”

“Guys don’t wha—?” He must be having a dream. He’d really made it back to his cabin and he was in his bed now, having erotic dreams about Charli like the night before. That must be it.

“I’m hard to watch, cowboy” she said, her tone bitter. “They’d rather watch some blonde baton-twirling fashion reporter than me. Because she’s pretty. Even if she probably doesn’t know a first down from first base.”

Grant breathed in a deep gulp of steamy air, willing himself not to turn around and take the eyeful he so wanted. She was drunk. And apparently some idiot at her job had thrown a grenade at her today. He couldn’t give in to the urge.

“Darlin’, obviously you’re working with some world-class imbeciles. But do you mind wrapping up with a towel? Otherwise, you’re going to be real mad at yourself and me in the morning.”

She sniffed. “Well, see, there you go. The thought of me naked is even too much for you to bear.”

Oh, she had no idea. “Now you’re just talking stupid.”

“Great. So I’m not just ugly but stupid. Gee, thanks. You can go now.”

“Enough.” He spun around right as she was securing the towel, a towel that barely made it past the juncture of her legs. He wet his lips, the rest of his planned words sticking to his mouth like taffy.

“Just go.”

He closed the distance between them with two strides, and up close he could see that even though her jaw was set, her eyes were glassy with unshed tears. “Look, I don’t know what happened to you today or what you’re trying to prove to yourself right now, but let’s get one thing straight—you know nothing about what I think of you.”

“So tell me then,” she challenged. “Can’t be any worse than what I’ve already heard today.”

He moved into her personal space, backing her into the wall and bracing his hands on each side of her. “The truth? I think you’ve had a really shitty day and you’re looking for a fight or a fuck to make you forget it.”

Her eyes widened, her breath hitching.

“You want to yell at me, freckles? You want to pummel me to get all that anger out? Because go ahead. I’m right here.”

She stared back at him, frozen for a moment, then she licked her lips nervously. “That’s not what I want to do with you.”

His breathing was loud in his own ears. He needed to walk away. Right. Now. But his mouth was acting on its own accord. “Tell me what you want, Charli.”

Half of him hoped she wouldn’t follow his command, that she’d push him away. Because this was about as bad an idea as he’d ever considered. But if she told him, if she asked, he didn’t think he had it in him to deny her.

She couldn’t seem to bring her gaze up to him, but he didn’t miss the whispered plea. “I need to forget today. I need something good.”

And with that, his desire knocked off his good sense. Bang, bang. Dead.

“Something good it is, then.” He lifted Charli up and wound her legs around him, fitting the bare curve of her ass into his palms and dragging her against his straining erection. She tucked her face into the crook of his neck and made a soft, desperate sound that curled through him like hot smoke, filling his nerve endings.

But his raging libido was going to have to wait. He wasn’t going to fuck her drunk, couldn’t cross that line. But he could give her what she needed. He carried her over to the shower and pulled open the door, the steam spilling out into the room, then stepped in fully clothed, bringing them both under the hot stream of water. She lifted her head, surprise coloring her eyes as the water sluiced over her, soaking the towel and sloughing the dirt off her arms.

“Your clothes,” she said, looking down at his now-saturated shirt.

“Don’t worry about me, freckles. Just hold on to that towel bar behind you and let me make you feel good.”

Her gaze went hazy with arousal and maybe a little fear, but she followed his instruction. He kept an arm banded around her to make sure she was steady on her feet, then he slipped his hand beneath the edge of the towel, brushing against the smoothness of her inner thighs and sliding upward to find the damp thatch of hair at their juncture. She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the shower wall. God, he wanted to yank that towel off her, see her stretched out like this and totally bare, but he knew if he took it that far, he’d end up inside her, taking more than he had any right to. He brushed his finger along her cleft, and she bucked against him, the simple touch pulling a moan from her.

The sound was like a stroke to his cock, her sensitivity like waving a red flag in front of a bull. Oh, how he could torture someone so responsive, drag out her pleasure until she was begging for release. “Darlin’, if you’re that keyed up, this isn’t going to take long.”

“Please,” she whispered, her hips tilting toward his touch.

He smiled, giving her what she sought, a firm slide over her clit. The nub seemed to swell beneath his fingers, her arousal coating his skin despite the shower water pounding down on them. He could smell her sexy scent, so sweet and tempting. He’d love to part those thighs and taste every bit of her, but instead he tucked two fingers inside her heat and kept his thumb against her clit.

“Oh, God.” Her body clenched around his fingers and she rocked against his hand, shamelessly taking things to the pace she craved. Needy. Starved.

“That’s right,” he said against her ear as he pumped his fingers inside her. “Take what you need. Let yourself go.”

As if she’d been waiting for the words, she let out a sharp cry and her fingers went bloodless against the towel bar. The tremor of orgasm seemed to go through every inch of her, her body quivering in front of him, going flushed and pink. Quick, breathy gasps slipped past her lips as she undulated against his touch, milking every bit of pleasure she could.

His cock pressed against his zipper, begging for relief, for her, but he clenched his jaw and willed the ache away. He knew how to hold back his own need for hours in a play session. He could handle this. At least that’s what he kept repeating in his head as Charli drifted down from her quick-and-dirty orgasm.

He moved his hand away from her and resisted the urge to lick her arousal from his fingers, to let her watch how he would savor her taste. Or even better, to paint it over her nipples and then suck them clean. His cock flexed and he held back a groan. He was on the precipice of losing his control. This had been a bad idea. If she could push him to this point with him simply touching her, he was in trouble.

He reached out and turned off the shower. Her eyes fluttered open, the daze of orgasm still heavy in her expression. Her hands slipped off the bar and she pushed her sopping hair away from her face. “Wow, that was…I don’t usually…”

He smiled, though the effort was strained from his own keyed-up state. “Feel better?”

“So much better. Thank you.” She pushed off the wall and reached for the nape of his neck. He watched the play of desire move over her features, loving the way her fingers tightened against his skin. He found himself contemplating how easy it would be to loosen that towel, bind her arms with it, and take her right there against the shower wall. Her look said she would let him. But before he could truly lose all sense of right and wrong, she lifted up on her toes, her face moving toward him. Panic zipped through him like an electric bolt when he realized what she was going to do, and he instinctively moved his head to the left, dodging the kiss.

She blinked up at him, surprised by the quick movement, then she registered what he’d done. A cold mask crossed over her features.

“Charli, we can’t, I can’t—”

She grabbed the top of her towel, which was now sagging with the weight of all the water, and held it tight, not looking up. “Right. I get it.”

“Charli,” he repeated.

“No, really. It’s fine. I got off, and that’s what I asked for. Much obliged. You can go now.”

He wanted to explain, to reach out and fix that wounded expression. But the damage was already done. And having her think he didn’t want to take this anywhere was for the best. Max didn’t send his sister here so that Grant could get her into his bed. And hell, he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d had vanilla sex with anyone. This had been a mistake all around. She was everything he didn’t look for in a woman.

Too bad his dick didn’t give a damn about any of that.

He stepped out of the shower, his wet boots leaving puddles on the floor. “I’m sorry, Charli.”

She turned her back to him. “Shut the door behind you.”

He did exactly that, heading out of the house and leaving a wet trail behind him.

And the asshole award goes to…

The air outside had turned cooler and chilled his clothes against his skin as he made his way back to his cabin. Served him right for losing control like that. He should’ve walked straight out that door in the first place. If she had needed a release, she could’ve handled that herself. She didn’t need him to come in and save the day. The move had been selfish on all levels.

By the time he reached his place he was cold, pissed, and tired. But unfortunately, the miserable walk back to his cabin and a heaping pile of guilt hadn’t been enough to quell the hard-on from hell. He was now walking with a full hitch in his giddyup. The sound of Charli’s sexy sighs as she came was burned into his brain.

He could head back to The Ranch and find someone to scene with for the night. But he’d never been a fan of fantasizing about one person while you fucked another. When he was with a submissive, he wanted it to be all about that woman. Otherwise, what was the point?

So as soon as he kicked his door shut behind him, he stripped out of his wet clothes and headed to his own shower. Charli would probably still be taking hers, sans towel—water running in rivulets down her freckled skin, soap sliding over her perfect handful breasts and along her belly, suds creeping down between her thighs where the lips of her sex would still be swollen and pink from orgasm. He imagined stepping in behind her, taking the soap, and washing her backside. She would yield to his touch, beg for it. He could cup her ass and press the ridge of his cock against her, tasting her neck.

The hot water hit him with a blast, and he let it envelop him for a moment as it chased away the chill, and he got lost in the fantasy. He leaned back against the tiled wall and reached for the soap, creating a lather that he wished he could rub on Charli. But instead, he moved his hand down and grasped his cock, coating himself in the slippery liquid and stroking. A hard shudder went through him as he imagined his own grip was really the hot clasp of Charli’s body around him.

He moved up and down the length, sparing any finesse. He liked to give it rough, and he liked to get it the same way. His fist went on autopilot as his mind continued to weave images of Charli against him, around him…tied up for him, begging him, those green eyes drunk on pleasure instead of wine. The sound of soap against skin filled the shower, mixing with the steam and the pounding water. His knees tried to buckle beneath him as the pressure built low and fast.

He splayed his hand against the side wall, hanging on, and then sensation exploded through his system, shooting down his spine and radiating outward. Charli’s name sat full on his lips as his hard, pulsing release splashed against his abdomen and the shower wall.

He leaned his forehead against the shower door, his breath rasping out of him as his cock went soft in his hand. The water turned cool long before he had the desire to open his eyes to his always-empty cabin.