Chapters 16-18 Beautiful Mine

CHAPTER 16

Whitney

As requested, Connor gave me a thorough tour. In between getting him caught up on my life—I leave out the dating part—I get to see just about everything. My favorite parts kept changing as we went along. First it was meeting the head chef of Commoners and getting a taste of the ah-mazing butternut squash soup they were making. Then it was seeing the stunning Grand Ballroom with its massive crystal chandeliers. And then it was meeting their Events Manager—Renee—and watching her team in action as they set up for a wedding on the massive, second-floor, stone balcony with a gorgeous view of the ocean. The balcony can seat up to 200 people!

Connor and I also played a few games of Mrs. Pac-Man in the teen lounge and got some raspberry truffles from the resort’s little brunch cafe and sweet shop, Sweetbrew.

The most fascinating thing has been getting a glimpse at what goes on behind-the-scenes. I never thought about what it really takes to keep an operation like this going.

But my favorite thing? My most favorite thing? Connor himself. Not just being with him, which has been as amazing as it’s always been, but seeing how he is with his staff. He’s friendly and encouraging, but still wears this air of quiet authority they all seem to respond to. It’s a mix that I find incredibly attractive. In fact, the more employees we pass, and they are everywhere, the more amazed I am by who Connor is.

“How many employees do you have?” I ask as he leads me toward our final stop on the main floor, the administrative offices.

“That depends on the time of year. We get a big influx of part time and temp workers during the season. Sometimes as many as six-hundred.”

“Holy cow. You manage all these people?”

He laughs. “No. We manage the managers who manage all these people.”

Still.

“What?” He’s grinning at the way I’m staring at him.

“I’m really impressed.”

“Ah,” he says lightly, as we approach a wide, dark-wood door marked Executive Offices. “You didn’t know the wanderer had it in him, huh?”

I laugh. “I guess not.”

“That’s all right. It’s a common mistake.”

“I don’t know. Your employees seem to view you with respect.”

“They’ve never met the wanderer though, have they?” He winks at me. Oh, I remember that wink. Damn, Connor, you are killing me.

The fact that he does, clearly, love what he’s doing here is giving me hope, though. It’s also helping me understand why he’s been struggling to make a decision. Between enjoying his work and feeling what I suspect is a strong sense of obligation to his siblings, it’s a wonder this situation isn’t tearing my little wanderer in two.

I’m not sure it isn’t.

We go through the door and into a large area that has a central cluster of nice, open cubicle spaces—for employees who do mostly accounting and administrative support work—and an outer ring of private offices. These offices start small—with door tags identifying the Events Manager, Food and Beverage Manager, and so on—and work up to impressive offices well suited for the people who work in them.

Rayce’s name is on the big corner office with large windows facing the lush front gardens. On either side are offices for Connor and Lizzy, slightly smaller but also with broad windows. Rayce’s office is empty, but my nerves shoot up when I realize Connor is leading me past his own office and straight to Lizzy’s where—yep, there she is, getting up from her desk and coming around as she sees us walk right in.

“Hey Lizzy,” Connor says. “I wanted you to meet a friend of mine. I’m showing her around. This is Whitney Spencer. Whitney, Lizzy.”

Lizzy has dark hair and pretty green eyes. She’s wearing a friendly smile that so resembles Connor’s, but when she hears my name her eyebrows shoot up and she seems to give Connor a questioning look.

If I had to translate this look, I’d say it went something along the lines of, Oh, ho, ho. Who do we have here?

But then the look is gone and she’s back to smiling at me. She shakes my hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“You as well. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“All good, I hope.” But she doesn’t seem at all worried about how Connor might talk about her when she’s not around. These are the kind of people who make me wonder what it would have been like to grow up with siblings and be such good friends with them later in life. “Is he giving you the grand tour?”

I nod. “It’s really beautiful here. I’m so impressed.”

“Thank you. Ah, here’s Rayce.” We turn to see Connor’s older brother walking through the door.

Rayce certainly resembles his siblings in appearance, but his demeanor is something else entirely. While it’s easy to describe Connor and Lizzy as friendly, Rayce is much too powerful a presence to be defined by such a word. He’s not unfriendly, and gives me a gracious smile as he enters and notices me, but he’s the kind of person who looks like he owns and runs a famous luxury resort.

Connor introduces him as “Rayce”, but when we shake hands and I say, “Nice to meet you,” it’s awfully tempting to add a Sir to the end.

“Whitney and I met in Spain last year,” Connor explains. “She works for the Kendrick Refugee Outreach Center in San Francisco and is visiting one of the kids she placed with a family that lives here.”

“Now I’m the one who’s impressed,” Lizzy says. “They do great work.”

“They do. Thank you.”

“Well, since you’re here I think you should join us for our monthly dinner on Sunday.” She smiles and glances briefly at the other two as if to get their opinion about the idea, but doesn’t wait for them to give it. “How long are you in town?”

“Uh…” I look to Connor to see if this is a serious offer or what. He’s giving his sister an amused smile. “I fly out Sunday afternoon.”

“We can change it to Saturday then. Are you free Saturday?”

“You didn’t ask if I have Saturday free,” Rayce says, but he’s giving her a smile that manages to be both distinguished and fond. It’s easy to see these brothers love their sister.

“Shush.” She waves a hand at him and returns her attention to me. She’s smiling eagerly. I have to say, she seems so genuine and welcoming that I kind of want to go. But I don’t know. Having dinner with Connor’s family feels like a bit much, like we’d be taking a step or something. We haven’t even had a chance to talk properly. For all I know, that’s as far as this is going.  

“Stop trying to take over her vacation,” Connor says easily, winking at me.

“Oh fine.” But she’s still smiling gracefully.

“Thank you for the offer, though,” I say, and mean it.  

Rayce pulls out his phone, which has just beeped at him. He checks the screen. “Excuse me, I have to go. Oh Connor, did Lukas ever send you those numbers?”

“Yes. I’ll get my report to you Monday.”

“All right. That works.” He looks at me and I’m a little startled to have his full attention again. “Whitney, it was nice to meet you.”

“You, too.” Sir.

“We’re off as well,” Connor says. “We’re having dinner at Martini Ranch.”

Lizzy nods in approval. “Your tour’s over then?”

“Just about. I still want to show her the gardens.”

“Well enjoy, you two.” She gives a little wave as she heads to her chair, and I wave back.

When we’re out in the hall, I say, “Your family’s so nice.”

“Tell me I’m the cutest one.” He grins. “Even if you have to lie.”

“Oh, I don’t have to lie,” I say, without hesitation. “I’ve already told you how hot you are.” In fact, you’re driving me crazy.

“Good answer. I’ll be sure to tell Rayce you said that.”

“No!”

He laughs at my reaction. “I’m only teasing.”

“Good,” I say as we head through the lobby and toward the front entrance. “Because your brother’s kind of intimidating.”

Connor laughs. “Oh, he’s all right. You know, when he’s not being an ass.”

I glance at Connor, not sure if he’s kidding or what, because in spite of the laugh, there was something in his tone.

We walk over to the gardens, which are on the west side of the resort’s front grounds, situated along the edge of the bluff, so there’s a clean view of the ocean. There are winding paths, little waterfalls, a lovely footbridge. It’s beautiful and impossibly romantic. We’ve slowed our pace and are meandering through in silence. For the first time since I arrived, we’re away from people. In fact, it feels like we’re completely alone.

We took so long on the tour, it’s nearing dinnertime and the sun’s making its descent toward the horizon. In a few more hours, it’ll be sinking into the water, which makes me think of the ocean sunset we once watched in Spain.

It makes my heart yearn for him, and he’s right here.

We come to a little labyrinth, laid out with white, rounded stones. It’s just off the main path, and set on a base of firm gravel. Impulsively, I enter it and start following its curved pathway, from the large outer circle, in to the smaller circles. Still in heels, I have to hold my hands out a bit to keep my balance on the gravel.

Connor stays on the garden’s main path. I sense him watching me. I glance at him. His hands are in his pockets, his intense eyes are on me, and he’s giving me a look that brings a warm flush to my face.

Heart pounding, cheeks warm, I drop my eyes to the path and keep them there until I reach the center. Only then do I stop and meet Connor’s eyes again.

And there’s the look I’ve been waiting for.

The one that says he intends to kiss me.

It’s the look I’ve been longing for since we started the tour. Hell, since I saw him at lunch.

Scratch that, I’ve been longing for this since I left his ass in Spain.

Keeping his eyes on me, Connor steps off the path and into the labyrinth. He doesn’t follow the circular path though. He just steps over the little stones and slowly comes straight for me. A gentle breeze blows through, ruffling the soft fabric of my skirt around my thighs.

My heart is pounding and I feel a little unsteady on my feet. But I take a step forward to meet him anyway. We come close, bodies just shy of touching, and he puts his hands on my upper arms. I rest my hands on his waist, under his suit coat.

Neither one of us moves. His eyes are holding me in place. I’m holding my breath. Now I can’t tell if he wants to kiss me or not. Maybe he doesn’t know either.

But then he bends down and presses his lips to mine, so lightly. My breath catches and my hands gently squeeze his waist. Our lips part just slightly, and our heated breaths swirl together.

My eyes meet his. In them I see the same confusing blend of hesitation and desire that I feel. We freeze here, searching each other’s faces. I know the split second before he does it that he’s going to pull away.

“Sorry,” he says thickly, straightening. But he hasn’t let go of me. “I… maybe shouldn’t have done that. Not because I don’t want to,” he says quickly, reacting, I know, to the look on my face. “I just…” he squeezes my arms firmly, like he’s hanging on, and takes breath. “It was really hard ending it last time.”

I press my lips together.

“So… maybe we… shouldn’t.” His voice is full of regret.

Because you still can’t make promises, I think. I swallow past the lump in my throat. God, he’s probably right. I hate this.  

“It was hard,” I say. But as I look up at him, I know it wasn’t hard enough to keep me from doing it again. I want to be impulsive and reckless and take him while I can get him and pay the consequences later. Part of me doesn’t care.

But maybe he feels differently about me. And I don’t want to rope him into this when he’s telling me he wants to step back.

“All right” I nod. Agreeing. Hating it. “It’s okay.” I’m suddenly cold and shiver a bit. I drop my hands and rub them on my forearms.

“Come here,” he says gently, pulling me into him.

I wrap my arms around his waist, rest my cheek on his chest, and sigh. We stay there for several minutes, hanging onto each other.

“Can we still have dinner?” I ask. I’m not ready to say goodbye. “Just as friends?”

“Of course.” He squeezes me. “I want to.”

“Okay,” I say, just relieved this isn’t over yet.

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Chapter 17

Whitney

Martini Ranch has a large bar in the center with a restaurant on one side and dance floor on the other. Though not formal, it has great atmosphere and fantastic food. During dinner, Connor asks me about work again. The tour wasn’t exactly conducive to deep conversation, and he wants to know how I’m really doing.

How I’m doing, right now, is not so well. But work has nothing to do with it.

I tell him more or less what I told him on the tour, keeping my most difficult struggles with work to myself. I don’t tell him that in my darkest moments I think seriously about quitting because I feel too weak to stay. I don’t tell him about my dark moments at all. I decide I shouldn’t share the hard stuff. It’s too intimate, and I’m trying to hold back. That’s what we’re doing, right? Putting a fence around things?

Maybe this really is better. Not so painful.

Maybe.

As we finish our meal, I’m starting to feel anxious that it’s all about to come to an end. I’m relieved when he suggests we hop to the other side and either hang at the bar or do some dancing.

“I don’t know if you like to dance,” he says, but I’m already on my feet and grabbing his hand.

“I love to dance.”

He laughs and follows behind. I do love to dance, too, and don’t get near enough of it at home. It’s another non-entity, actually, like my non-existent love life. As I pull him onto the dance floor, the music pounding in my chest, I decide this is the perfect way to get out some of my frustration. He doesn’t want to kiss me? Fine. He can sure as hell dance with me.

The DJ is playing “Shots” by Imagine Dragons, and the song is half over. It’s a blast to dance to, though, and I let myself go. Smiling and following my lead, Connor gets into it too. This guy can move. No surprise.

So that’s what we do. The DJ is kind to me, and plays the fast songs. The ones I can’t help but move to. The ones that are helping me forget. And Connor is right there with me, still in his dress pants and shirt, dancing like the free bird he is.

We keep our distance. Until we don’t.

“Naughty Girl” by Beyonce comes on and Connor pulls me in close and throws my arms around his neck. We’re still pumping to the music, but within seconds it’s like something out of Dirty Dancing. Oh, if I’d known he could dance like this, we would’ve done nothing else the entire time we were in Spain. Of course, it’s been so long, I forgot I knew how to dance like this.

We’re rocking and swaying and everything but grinding. Our bodies are perfectly in sync as we move to the music. My cheeks are flushed and my body warm, and not just from the dancing.

When the song is over, the DJ switches to a slow song. Connor and I break apart, holding each other’s eyes and panting, deciding what to do next. He could pull a Patrick Swayze and just disappear into the crowd.

I look away. I run my hand through my hair and try to calm down my breathing. All around us, couples are swaying and we’re just standing here. I take a few deep breaths, my heart rate finally slowing. I’m still not looking at him.

I’m also not looking at him when he takes my hand and pulls me into his arms. We start swaying. It’s hesitant, almost mechanical. Hell, it’s so bad I’m having flashbacks to the junior high dances.

Eventually we soften, though, and our bodies meld together more naturally. Our movements are more in tune with the music and one another. The next song begins—“Open Arms” by Journey—and we don’t stop. We aren’t just moving our bodies to the music, our hands are moving too. Mine over his chest, his down my back. I drape my arm over his neck and he runs his hand from my elbow clear down to my waist. Our heads move closer together.

Lips parted, panting slightly, my mouth is next to his jaw and his hot breath is underneath my ear. His arm tightens around my back, he moves his hips to the music and guides my body to move along with him, knees bending, bodies dipping. We wrap in even closer.

As we dance and move, his head comes from one side of mine and switches to the other. Our lips pass within inches of each other. Still not looking at his eyes, I run my hand into his slightly-damp hair. His arms tighten around me and still we’re dancing.

His mouth is near my cheek. I turn and brush my lips over his, then keep going like I didn’t mean to do it. Like it wasn’t the stolen kiss that it was.

He snakes one hand into my hair and grips it gently as our mouths come close together. I glance up at him, see the heat in his eyes, and realize I’m luring him in deliberately now. Maybe I have been all along. Because every move of my body is drawing him closer… just like every move of his body is drawing me closer to him.

“Sorry,” I whisper, pulling my mouth away slightly, because I should respect the fact that he doesn’t want to go there. But we don’t stop dancing. A moment later, my resolve weakens because he’s the one who steals a kiss, brushing his lips on mine and then away.

Two more beats of our bodies blending together, then we press our mouths against one another and linger.

We pull away. Take a breath. Resist for another beat.

Then his mouth is on mine and I feel myself start to tip. I pull away slightly, glance up at him, then tuck my chin down.

“Connor,” I breathe. “If we’re going to stop…”

“I don’t care anymore,” he says thickly, putting his finger under my chin and tilting me up to meet him. “I’m already flying.”

Then Connor Rivers kisses me like he means it. I’m done holding back too. I wrap my arms tighter around him and we open to each other. His tongue touches mine and I’m rising up to meet him. We kiss deeply, intently, eagerly. I give in to all of it.

It might be a mistake, but I don’t care.

Some mistakes are worth making.

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Chapter 18

Whitney

We dance for another half hour, settling into each other and—I think—making sure no one’s going to pull away this time. Neither one of us do. At last he asks if I want to go back to his place, and of course the answer is yes.

We pull up to his house, a luxurious-looking, modestly-sized home with two levels, balconies, and a nicely-landscaped front yard. I’m as fascinated as I was when I saw Connor in a suit. Or realized how many employees he manages. I glance over at his handsome profile as he pulls into the garage. The Connor I know has a walking stick named Gandolf and lives on a boat. He’s not nailed to the ground living in an actual house.

Maybe he can be more steady than I think. Maybe, when he makes his decision, staying at the resort will win out.

I’m not going to worry about it though. Right now, it’s me and Connor and that’s everything I need.

He takes my hand as he leads me through the mudroom, laundry room, and into the kitchen. It’s a clean, open space with professional-grade stove and appliances. He leads me to the other side of the bar and just into the living room. The dining area is to our left, one side surrounded by a bay of windows. The living room is all hard wood flooring, and decorated in a plush, classic style, with richly-patterned furniture, an abundance of gorgeous throw pillows, and beautiful vases and flowers. It doesn’t at all seem his style. There’s more to it—an office down the way, I think—but we stop not far from the staircase, which curves up gracefully to our right.

He snakes one arm around my waist and pulls me snug against him. “I’ll give you the tour.” But we don’t move. “Kitchen, dining room, living room.” He gestures with his free arm, then brings that one around me too. I wrap my arms around his waist and look up at him, smiling. “Office and game room down the hall,” he says, looking into my eyes and smiling too.

“Uh-huh.”

He gives me a kiss. I press my lips against his, sinking into it. He breaks our kiss just for a moment, brings his hands to my cheeks, and kisses me again. We taste one another slowly, our temperatures rising.

“Bedrooms upstairs,” he says, his lips still brushing mine.

“I want to see those.”

He kisses me again. As our kiss deepens, I feel the power of it swooping up into my chest. Our hands and bodies move to the rhythm of our own song now. It’s slow and intense and increasingly molten. He’s rock hard against my thigh. I’m ready for him too. We kick off our shoes before he leads me up the stairs.

He takes me through the double doors leading to the master bedroom, and turns the lights on the elegant fixture above the king-sized bed in the center. The bed’s on an impressive frame, with an intricate, curving headboard. Again, not the style I would’ve imagined for him, but it’s a bed, so I don’t really care.

He turns the dial down, dimming the lights, then returns his attention to me. My attention has turned to the buttons on his shirt. He undoes his cuffs as I loosen each button, one at a time.

Once the shirt is hanging open, I rub my hands up his firm chest and over his shoulders, bringing the shirt fabric with them. He slowly shimmies his arms, his chest muscles flexing, and his shirt falls to the floor. He cups my face and kisses me again, releasing me once I start to fumble with his belt buckle.

He reaches for my dress at the waist, raising the fabric of my skirt. I raise my arms as he lifts my dress and drops it onto the floor. I shake my hair off my shoulders then return to his belt, pulling it loose.

As I work to undo his pants, he caresses my neck and shoulders and arms. Then he unclasps my bra, sliding it off. Eyes on one another, we finish up on our own. He removes his pants and I slide down my panties, which are wet at the crotch.

My breath catches in my throat at the sight of his hard cock. Oh, this I remember. My core starts that pleasurable aching as I remember the feel of him inside me, and anticipate him entering me again.

“Oh!” I suddenly remember something. “Please God, say you have a condom.”

He grins and hooks his hand on the back of my neck, bringing me in to him. “I have a condom,” he whispers, then kisses me deeply, his warm tongue warring eagerly with mine. We break briefly as he backs up toward the bed, bringing me with him. I’m breathing hard.

“More than one?”

He laughs and grabs me suddenly. I squeal as he turns and tosses me on the bed. “You’re insatiable.”

I grin. “Come here.”

He slowly crawls onto the bed, like a panther, smiling, his eyes hungry. “I want to taste you first.”

“Taste me later. I want you.” I sit up slightly to reach for his shoulders. I tug on him, indicating I want him to come all the way up to me. I want him to mount me. I want him inside me.

He does come up—quickly—but he grabs my wrists and pins them above my head.

“Behave, you,” he says hotly, and my body tingles. I hold my breath. “I want to taste every inch of you.” He dips his mouth to my ear, still holding my wrists. He sucks on my earlobe and I exhale slowly. “I want to run my tongue all over your body.” He lightly traces his tongue down to the crook of my neck.

He sucks on the sensitive skin, and slowly rubs both hands down the underside of my arms. I start to lower them, but he presses them back in place, indicating I’m not to move. I bring my thighs up the sides of his body, angling my hips to feel him but he’s holding himself too far above me.

“I want to lick you until you come, lap up all your juices, then lick you till you come again.” I exhale sharply, shivering with anticipation. He grins at my reaction. Holding my eyes, he runs his fingers over my collar bone, then down my front. He stops just short of my nipple, teasing me.

“And then?” I whisper, wanting him to cup me.

“And then what?” he asks, still holding my eyes. He gently rolls my nipple between his fingers, then takes me in his hand and squeezes firmly.

I close my eyes briefly and let out a soft moan. “Then what will you do?”

“You mean,” he says slowly, lowering his head toward my chest, “will I pound you with my cock until your eyes roll back in your head?” He takes my breast into his hot mouth and sucks firmly.

“Mm-hmmm.” I nod my head slowly, eyes closed, arms still above my head.

“You’ll have to wait to find out.” He goes to the other side, slowly circles the nipple with his tongue, then sucks on that one too.

“Yes,” I breathe, squirming underneath him.

“Stay there like a good girl.” He plants kisses down my stomach and runs his hands down my sides.

I nod obediently, my nipples aching from missing him already. My legs are spread and I’m throbbing, anticipating his touch. He kisses the top of my pubic bone. Then just above my seam. He opens his mouth and places the flat of his wet tongue in the same place, teasing me. My clit throbs. I firmly clasp my hands together above my head, my breath shallowing. I look down, watching him, willing him to move lower.

He scoots himself down a bit at a time, kissing and tasting the inside of my upper thighs as he goes, sending ripples of trembling gooseflesh all over me. Finally, he grabs my hips with both hands, holding me in place and positioning his mouth right above my sweet spot.

He exhales slowly. “Oh yeah,” he says softly, taking me in appreciatively. I’ve never had a guy make me feel so beautiful down there. But the way he looks at me, like he’s the one in for a treat, makes me feel safe and hot and completely under his control.

His tongue touches me just at my entrance and he takes a long, soft swipe up toward my clit, tasting me slowly. Like he’s the puppet master with the string, I arch back long and slow to match his movement. His wet tongue slides over my firm bud and I exhale a shuddering breath. Then he lowers his tongue and does it again. “God.” I can’t stop myself from grabbing the back of his head and angling toward him.

He gently sucks my clit into his mouth and teases the tip of it with his tongue. My body contracts with the shudder he just sent through me. “Fuck,” I say, eloquently.

He rubs his hands up the back of my thighs and presses firmly just beneath the back of my knees, spreading me farther apart. He’s rubbing the flat of his tongue all over my clit: up and down, side to side. I groan when he goes side to side and he responds by doing it again.

“Yes, yes.” I’m breathing hard and curling toward him. He starts to work me faster, and harder. I’m gasping helplessly. My toes point and he’s sending me closer and closer to the top.

Oh my god.

He pushes his entire mouth hard against me, pleasing me everywhere. I’m whimpering, so close. God, I’m so close. He swirls his tongue and and I come hard, crying out. He doesn’t slow or ease up, sending pleasure spiking over my entire body as I pulse against him. I’m thrashing helplessly, and he grabs my thighs eagerly, pulling me harder to him and coming at me with so much eagerness, I’d think he was the one coming.

It goes on and on. I’m nearly out of my mind with it. It comes down in intense waves, and I can barely breathe. Finally it recedes enough that I can take in deep breaths and he eases off me slowly.

“God,” I say. I’m so damned articulate.

“Mmm-hmmm.” He’s a poet too. I love it.

I expect him to come to me now, and want him to, but he doesn’t look done with me. Not at all. I remember what he said and look down at him, disbelieving. Is he really going to do that twice? Is that even possible?

Minutes later, I have my answer. He starts slow, initially avoiding my bud, which is too sensitive to want direct contact at first. Instead he slowly caresses my folds with his tongue and gently massages my thighs and stomach and ass and breasts. It’s like stoking a fire. Slowly. Patiently. Soon I’m eager again. Wanting more.

He touches my clit softly at first. Momentarily. It’s enough to throw my head back and make my legs open up more. Then he does it again. The heat spikes in my body, rising at his commands. It’s like he’s cast a delicious spell over my body, and I’m so enchanted by what he’s doing that words escape me.

Eventually I’m moaning and rocking my hips. I’m gripping his forearms, hanging on. He grasps my forearms too, and that’s how we hold on to each other as he pulls another heart-pumping orgasm out of me.

I’m making the kind of sounds that would make a porn star blush, but I can’t help it. It feels so fucking good.

When it’s over and I’m panting heavily, he pulls up on his elbows and smiles at me. “How you doing up there?” he asks, amused.

“Uuhhhh.” I’m just trying to breathe. 

“You still want more?”

I grin.

He chuckles and places a firm kiss on my inner thigh. I’m still trembling all over, just beneath the surface.

“I’ll be right back.” He crawls backward off the bed. I catch sight of his cock, still raging hard, and maybe I am insatiable because I’m tingling pleasantly at the thought of it inside me.

He disappears into the bathroom. I take a deep breath, blowing it out hard and resting my hands on my stomach. Good lord, this man.

He comes back with the condom already on and climbs on top of my weakened—but ready—body. Oh this is what I wanted. Not that I would’ve given up the other, but it feels so good to have Connor on top of me. To have him in my arms. To be able to kiss him. As we kiss, deeper and more intently, he runs his hand up the back of my neck and into my scalp. He makes a fist, grabbing a handful of my hair and tugging firmly. Our mouths are locked in a hot kiss. He tugs again, harder this time, and I moan with pleasure.

Still clutching my hair, he reaches down and takes hold of himself, searching. Yes. At last. I feel his broad tip and I scoot just enough so that between the two of us, we’re lined up. His wide shaft presses against my entrance. I relax my muscles, letting him in. He slides in so slowly, I feel every inch rubbing against my ridges, deliciously sensitive after my orgasms.

He reaches bottom, and pauses. I’m stretched around him. He’s so big, the pleasure of being this full is touching the boundaries of pain.

“You feel so good inside me,” I breathe. “I don’t want it to end.” God, I don’t want any of this to end.

He cups my jaw and slowly withdraws, one inch at a time, my channel humming with his touch. He rests his forehead and against mine and holds my eye. My chest flushes hot and it spreads over me like warm honey.

“You’re incredible,” he says, coming deep inside me again, slightly faster. He’s still holding my eyes. My heart skips a beat and my mouth drops slightly open when he hits bottom again. “So tight and wet.” His dirty talk sends a pulse of pleasure through me and I tighten around his cock even more. His eyes pinch shut, and I catch a glimpse of the ecstasy on his face before he dips down and sucks on the crook of my neck. At the same time he increases his rhythm more.

Breathing hard, I roll my hips, working with his movements. He groans and I moan at the same time. He steadily increases his speed and I continue to rock myself with him.

“I remember you like it hard,” he says breathlessly.

I nod against his shoulder.

He kisses me firmly then, but keeps with the same rhythm. When he breaks our kiss though, he grabs my shoulder and thrusts hard. A bloom of pleasure and pain flows over me and I gasp, throwing my head back. “Yes,” I bite out.

He does it again, and again, and I am not being quiet about telling him how I feel about it. He goes faster and harder, so the pulses of pleasure are bursting over me with increasing rhythm. Those pulses get closer and closer together until they blend into one, steady, quivering mass of pleasure.

Omigod.

When my orgasm bursts over me, he’s half a second behind. He thrusts into me irregularly, moaning in my ear. I gasp as I tighten around his hard cock over and over.

The fierce grip of my climax loosens, but he’s regained control and strokes me so deep and so perfectly the long downward slide of pleasure flows over me. When it’s finally over, I’m a panting helpless mass beneath him.

Fuck.

I wish I could stash Connor in my suitcase and take him home with me.

You’ve been reading Beautiful Mine.