Текст книги "Reveal"
Автор книги: Elle Brooks
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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 16 страниц)
MY RULES HAVE turned to pure crap. Don’t shit where you sleep.
Fail.
Don’t fuck the staff.
Currently failing.
I should have added a caveat, one that reads Unless it’s Tweet. But then that wouldn’t work either because what we’re doing right now? It isn’t going to be fucking. It’s already so much more, and I know without a doubt I’m screwed. This magnetism and the need to protect her should terrify me, but it doesn’t.
I spin us around and lift her, placing her in the center of my bed. I’ve dreamed about what she’d look like here so many times. I must have a terrible imagination because they didn’t even begin to come close to how beautiful she looks laid out in front of me now. If it wasn’t such a creepy fucking thing to do, I might be tempted to grab my cell and take a picture because I never want to forget what she looks like in my sheets.
I lift her leg and slowly pull the stiletto from her foot, tossing it on the floor behind me. I lower it back down and do the same with the other before running my hands up against her long silky-smooth legs.
Up.
Up.
Oh my God, up.
I reach the hem of her dress and then push my fingers underneath, carrying on my assault. The fabric pools at my wrists and rides up to where my hands have stalled at the apex of her thighs. I drag my eyes back to her face, and she has her head pressed into the mattress and her back arched biting her bottom lip, watching me.
This isn’t going to last long, I can already tell. Just the sight of her has me painfully hard, and I’ve not even touched her properly.
My fingers grip the hem of her panties and pull down slightly. “Is this okay?” I ask, praying she won’t stop me.
There are no words, she just nods her head vigorously, and it’s all the encouragement I need. I drag the little black scrap of lace all the way down her legs and toss them on the floor. “You won’t be needing these.”
Her legs fall apart as I nestle myself between them, and I can’t breathe. I want so badly to look at her, watch her face as I push my fingers into her, but it’s impossible. My eyes are glued to where my fingers are now deftly tracing her seam, and I’m playing a dangers game with myself. If I carry on, I’m pretty sure I’ll finish before I’ve even started, and I can’t let that happen. I can NOT let it happen. I push against her and watch as my fingers disappear into her warm wet depths.
Damn, she’s tight.
Her breathing sounds as erratic as mine feels, and I could come undone just listening to the little moans she’s letting escape. It’s about as much as I can take listening to her. I reposition myself, so I’m above her, my hand still coaxing the sounds of pleasure from her beautiful lips. I kiss her as softly as I can manage, although I’m sure it’s not soft at all. My fingers are working their way in an out in a punishing rhythm, while my thumb circles her, making her back arch higher and higher.
Her hands grab fists full of my hair, and she’s writhing beneath me like she’s about to bust into a million shattered pieces. Her legs are shaking, and she’s growing louder and louder and wetter and wetter. I feel like I’m about to lose the battle and come just from the sight and sound of her nearing her own release. Then silence. It only lasts a moment as her body tenses, and I realize it’s the calm before the storm. And holy shit, what a storm.
Her body almost lifts completely from the bed as she screams my name. It’s the only way I ever want to hear her speak it again for as long as I fucking live because it’s magnificent. I don’t move until her body begins to slacken and sink into the mattress, and then I’m up and off her in a matter of seconds. I rip my jeans and boxers down at the same time, stepping out of them as I lean and grab a condom from my nightstand. I stretch to flick the bedside lamp on, flooding the room with a warm glow. I want to make sure I can see every bit of this. I toss the foil packet on the bed beside her and pull my shirt up over my head, throwing it with the rest of our clothes.
Her eyes grow wide, but they’re filled with heat and want. My head is fogged with desire, and I can’t think of anything other than being inside her right now.
“Lift your arms,” I say, and my voice sounds low and gravelly even to my own ears. I lean over and pull her dress up and over her head. Her perfect chest bounces and my whole body tightens at the sight. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and her dark pink nipples are pebbled, tormenting me to lick and suck and bite them. It’s too much. She’s too much.
“Christ, Tweet. Do you even realize what you do to me? I want this to be perfect, to feel so fucking good for you that you’ll never want to do anything else, but if I don’t get inside you right now I’m going to explode, I…”
“Then what are you waiting for?” she coos, picking up the foil packet beside her. I watch in painful rapture as she takes it between her teeth and rips it open. I’m positive I’ve never seen anything as sexy. From now on, only she gets to open condom packets. My body is on fire just watching her. She leans forward onto all fours and then about slays me as she takes me in her hand. Nothing has ever felt like this.
Nothing.
The feel of her gliding the condom down over me is enough for me to die a happy man right here and now. I can feel her hot little hand at my base and then in one quick movement I have her arms pinned above her head in one of mine, and I’m guiding myself inside her with the other.
“Oh, God. Cal…”
I can’t respond with anything other than a hiss as the air rushes past my lips, and I push myself all the way home in one deep thrust. Her moans dissolve in my kiss and then I’m moving—hard, fast, rough and heavy. I can’t slow down my pace because if I give myself even a second to think about this I’ll come. I need her too damn much.
Her legs lift and wrap around my waist, and I slide in further. Being inside her fills me with so much satisfaction, I feel like the king of the fucking world right now. I push into her and then pull almost all the way out, before delving back in and repeating the cycle. It’s the sweetest torture there is, and I’m turning into a damn sadist except it’s me I’m tormenting, not her.
“Jesus, Tweet…you feel fucking amazing.”
Her nails bite into the skin on my back, and she mumbles something completely unintelligible before I feel her begin to shake beneath me.
“Harder, Cal…I, I’m—”
I up my pace, slamming into her at a grueling rate and then the sensations are too extreme, too exciting, too stimulating. The sounds she’s making. The feel of her from the inside, and the vision of her on the outside.
I can’t prolong it any longer.
It’s happening.
My body tenses and I still myself as a wave of heat and passion and electricity washes over me. I release into her in violent, hard, hot bursts.
“Fuck, Robynnnnn….”
My head falls to her shoulder, and her body tightens around me. We’re a mass of tangled limbs and trembling bodies. I’ve no real concept of where she ends, and I begin, and I fucking love it. I don’t even care that I’m pretty sure she’s just ruined me. If this is what ruined is, then bring it on because I don’t ever want to feel anything other than this right now.
I’ve just been completely screwed in the best possible way
IT’S HOT, FAR, far too hot. My legs kick out in an attempt to rid myself of my sheets, but they don’t budge. They also don’t feel like sheets, not even slightly.
My eyes snap open, and it takes me a good few seconds for my mind to process what my eyes are seeing. A long thick leg lay between my own, the leg belongs to a very naked muscular torso, and a heavy tanned arm currently draped across my chest, pinning me to the mattress. I blink, making sure I’m awake and not imagining this, and then I slowly turn my head and come face to face with Callum.
I feel my heart jolt in my chest at the sight of him. His messy dark hair looks like perfection, no matter how mussed it is, and those long, thick, black eyelashes that have no business belonging to a man are fanned across the swell of his cheeks. My throat feels dry as I take in the sight of his square jaw, dusted with a few days of regrowth and his lips parted ever so slightly. They allow each one of his even breaths to tickle my neck as they pass over me. I take a second to watch him and then I’m assaulted by the memories of last night and how I came to be pinned to the bed by this beautiful man.
Goosebumps race across my body, despite the oppressive heat, and I need to move but I don’t want to wake him. He looks so peaceful and content but I have to free myself. If I don’t move in the next thirty seconds I’m going to either pass out from the heat and weight of him, or I’m going to pee myself, and then pass out. Neither is appealing, so with as much grace and caution as I can muster, I wriggle down the bed, and slither like a snake from under his arm before letting myself slide from the bed and onto the floor with all the poise of a baby hippo.
The floorboards moan and protest under my weight, and I quickly look back to Cal, who seems so completely oblivious to my escape that he hasn’t so much as stirred. I grab the first item of clothing my eyes land on—Cal’s gray worn t-shirt. I pull it over my head and am immediately hit with the scent of him as the soft fabric slides over my face. I take a deep breath, and then push my arms through and pad out to the bathroom as quietly as I can, given that my muscles feel heavy from sleep and the late night impromptu workout they received. I ache in all the right places, and I can’t help but smile at the thought.
I catch my reflection in the mirror as I wash my hands in the basin, and I straighten and shut off the water, watching the person staring back at me closely. I don’t recognize her. Sure she has my untamed bed hair, making me look like I was dragged through a hedge backward in my sleep; she even has my slightly kiss-swollen lips and flushed complexion from the heat. But it’s not me, because the Robyn I know wouldn’t have had sex with her boss, and she certainly wouldn’t have had sex with him—no matter how amazing—while seeing another man.
Cole may not be my boyfriend, but that’s just a technicality. I knew his intentions; he’s been nothing but up front about wanting a relationship, and I’ve been happy to hang around, fooling him and myself with this casual status. I’m a horrible person. Guilt is coursing through my veins, and I look away from the mirror. I can’t stand to look at myself right now because even my guilt is misplaced. I feel guilty because I know I would do it again, given the same circumstances. I’d still sleep with Cal, so what kind of awful bitch must I be?
I feel sick as I make my way out of the bathroom and back down the hall. I want to blame it on the wine I shared with Cole, but I know it’s a lie. My sickness stems from my own inability to keep a hold of my morals. I’ve never been a cheater, and up until last night, I would have quite categorically announced that I never would be. I’ve been on the receiving end of infidelity, and it was enough to keep my moral compass pointing true north…until now.
My high school boyfriend Michael was the love of my naïve teenage life, and I would have followed him anywhere. I was so drunk on his fake affection that I was blinded to the way he treated me with very little, if any, respect. My rose-tinted glasses were firmly in place, and I’d defy anyone who questioned the solidarity of our relationship, even putting him ahead of friendships that had been in place since kindergarten. He would placate me with huge public displays of what I know now were false affection.
The night of my sixteenth birthday Michael was missing, as all of my friends gathered around me singing Happy Birthday. I’d decided to go find him, and that’s exactly what I did. I found him in the downstairs bathroom of my parents’ house with my older sister Erin’s best friend Jaime. His pants hung down at his ankles as her head frantically bobbed back and forth, kneeling in front of him. I don’t remember what I did next, but I know that it took him another five minutes before both he and Jaime left the bathroom and left the party together in her car. The rumors that circulated school were that he was caught mid-blowjob and decided that having her finish was a better idea than chasing after me. I don’t know if it was the humiliation or the sheer sense of betrayal, but I vowed I’d never be the kind of person that did that to someone else. If I didn’t want to be with them, I’d tell them before moving on. The realization that I’m now no better than Michael makes my skin crawl and my stomach ache in disgust.
I’m nearing the end of the hall and stop in my tracks. Where do I go from here? Do I crawl back into bed with Cal? Or sneak into my own room and hide while I try to figure out what the hell I’m doing, before facing Cal or Cole? Fate decides for me as I’m standing in the middle of the hall wearing Cal’s t-shirt and nothing else. I’m having a moral meltdown, and Callum pads out of his room scratching his head, yawning, completely naked as the day he was born. The heat that I thought was suffocating five minutes before suddenly feels tepid in comparison to the fire seeing Cal ignites. I press my thighs together as an arrow of desire quickly shoots south and spears me with arousal. My pulse kicks up a few gears as my heart decides to try and escape my chest, drumming wildly against my ribs and I freeze, not knowing what to do or where to look.
My greedy eyes fall from his face down over the peaks and dips of his hard, smooth abs, following the arrow of that beautiful V and fixating on his very erect penis. I realize I’m ogling him and as he moves toward me, something in my brain clicks and I pull my gaze north. His lazy smile lights something behind his eyes and it’s hypnotic. I can’t force my mouth to form any words as he closes the distance between us, leaning in and kissing me soft and sensual like it’s the most natural thing in the world and we do it every day. His hands cup my ass and pull me into his erection, giving me a quick squeeze. He growls before he lets me go and carries on walking, disappearing into the bathroom and leaving me a mess of red hot, liquefied goo. I don’t think I’ve ever been as shocked and turned on at the same time. I’m struggling to catch my breath and compose myself.
“Tweet?” he shouts from the bathroom. His voice is rough and sexy from sleep.
“Yeah?” Mine sounds weak and timid like a little girl, rather than a grown woman.
“Don’t even think about going back to your room.”
Oh, my God. I have no idea what to answer in return, so I don’t. Instead, I look down at my toes and take a few long, deep, fortifying breaths in a frail effort to regain composure. It’s a futile task: my legs are clamped together, my nipples are straining against the fabric of his shirt and I’m all too aware of the scent of him that surrounds me. Add that to the image of him naked and smiling as he kissed me like he really and truly meant it, and I shuffle back to his room on autopilot.
I’m trying to push out the nagging feeling that I can’t blame this on a whim, I’m not caught up in the moment, and I can’t use alcohol to explain it away. I’m heading back to his room because I want to, and now I have to figure out how to deal with that.
His voice invades me seconds before I feel him step up behind me as I’m bent trying to gather up my clothes from his floor. I can feel the solid firm heat nestle up against my ass as his leans over me and drags me up so I’m standing with my back flush against his chest. I’m trembling with anticipation and need laced with nerves, but good Lord, does it make me feel alive. I should move, or at least say something, but his presence is debilitating when I can feel every hard inch of him pressed so tightly against me.
“You wearing my clothes is nearly as hot as you not wearing anything,” he whispers and I’m sure I sink a little deeper into the depth of my desire.
My mouth opens to answer—with what, I’m not even sure—but his lips on my shoulder and then throat steal my breath, and all I can do is moan in appreciation of his skilled mouth. My whole body shudders as his fingers trace a faint line from my thighs up over my hips and above my waist, dragging his shirt with them. He takes his time, pulling it higher and higher while his lips rain delicious wet kisses along the side of my neck. I clamp my hands around the back of his legs, pulling him into me and keeping myself standing. If I let go now I’m not even certain my legs would work. Without a word he twists me in his arms, pulls his shirt roughly over my head and then tackles me to the bed in a rush of probing hands and wandering lips. It feels like a race that I’ve no aspirations to win. I could let him claim victory over my body all day long and still feel like a winner.
His mouth finds my nipples and then it’s all I can do to stay on the bed as his tongue flicks and his teeth graze and my back arches shamelessly, begging for more. My fingers dig into the muscles of his back. It’s an eternity of teasing and moaning before our mouths find one and other and then the rush fades, and our eyes meet as everything slows. Our frantic movements become measured and deliberate; his eyes grow hungrier but his movements stay unhurried. I don’t kiss with my eyes open; there’s something too intimate, too raw and vulnerable about the act, but not in this moment. I couldn’t close my eyes if I wanted to; I’m completely transfixed by the all-pervading gaze Callum has on me. His normally stormy eyes look so clear and undeterred that I don’t want to break our stare.
“Cal, I need you inside of me,” I murmur against his lips and then wait as he kisses me harder before pulling away completely and reaching over to his nightstand. I watch in hungry anticipation as he rips open the little foil square with his teeth, and then he’s rolling the condom on and positioning himself between my legs so fast that it steals my breath when he pushes inside of me in one quick deep thrust.
“You feel amazing,” he whispers as his forehead drops to mine.
He’s not moving, and the ache of eagerness building low in my stomach forces my hips to tilt as I tell him the feeling is mutual. That’s all it takes, one small hip roll, and it’s like I’ve uncaged a beast. His hands trap my own above my head in one swift movement and then he’s delving into me like a man possessed.
“Cal. Oh, my God, Cal!” I scream his name amidst pants and groans and curses. I’d be embarrassed at how loud I was if he weren’t louder.
He grunts, “That’s right baby, take me,” and I’m worked up to a frenzy...my body can’t take any more and I begin to shudder and shatter into a million pieces below him. My orgasm fuels his own as he presses me deep into the mattress and falls apart whispering my name.
“Fuck,” he hisses.
“Yeah,” I reply.
He pulls me with him as he rolls onto his side and places a chaste kiss on the tip of my nose.
“That was…”
“Intense,” I offer.
His head rises from his pillow so he can look down at me.
“I was going to say amazing, but intense works.” He places a light kiss over my lips and then settles back down against his pillow.
“I don’t want to go to sleep in case you’re not here when I wake up,” he mumbles so lightly I barely make out the words. I don’t know what’s happening between us, but I do know that wasn’t just sex. Suddenly everything feels far more complicated, and a weight settles over me that is anything but comfortable.
“I’ll be here,” I breathe, and he pulls me in closer, locking me inside his embrace. I wonder how strong his arms are and how long he can keep me like this until reality breaks through.
The next seventy-two hours play out like a movie of someone else’s life. Callum acts the exact same way with me when we’re downstairs working in the club as he always has. In fact, the show he puts on has me questioning if I made our whole encounter up in my head like some ridiculously vivid dream. I don’t have his composure or capacity to act like nothing is different when everything is different. The moment we head upstairs and it’s just him and me, it’s like a veil is dropped and he’s suddenly not the same person. Callum, without witnesses, can’t take his eyes off me or keep his hands to himself. If I’m sitting down, it’s in his lap. If I’m tired, he pulls me against his chest, and that’s where I fall asleep; and when I wake, it’s in his bed. It’s all too much. Not him, but my guilt.
I’m fielding calls from Cole left, right and center, putting off seeing him until I can work out what it is that I’m actually doing. Callum hasn’t mentioned him, not once. I know that he’s seen me checking my cell and re-directing calls. He knows that I haven’t seen Cole because every spare moment I’ve had in the past three days has been spent with him. I don’t know if I should be grateful that he’s giving me the space to deal with this in my own time, without question, or if that should worry me. What if he’s under the impression that he’s the other man, and he’s okay with that because he doesn’t want any commitments? What we’re doing doesn’t feel like that to me, but I haven’t straight-up asked him about what it is he wants, or where he sees this thing between us going—it’s all getting to be too much.
As if on cue, my cell beeps with a message as I’m getting ready for my shift downstairs.
Are you free later this evening? I have drinks with clients and some people from work, but I want to see you. I can come to you…
The sinking feeling is back full force as I look over the text. Cole is a great guy, he’s open and honest, and ridiculously gorgeous, not to mention fun. I realize that I have actually missed talking to him over the past few days. I didn’t leave his apartment on the best terms and then when I returned home after shooting down his advances, I fell straight into bed with Cal.
I couldn’t dislike myself more than I do right now. I need to fix this.
I’m working tonight, but could come over after. It will be late, is that okay?
I need to talk to him, and I owe it to him to at least do it face to face. My cell beeps almost instantly.
Can’t wait.
My stomach rolls at the prospect of hurting him. I like him a lot, more than I should. He would be the simple, smart, safe choice—I’m not stupid—I know that. I’m a reserved version of myself when I’m with him, and I like that. God knows I could do with being a little more driven by my head than my heart. I let Daniel walk all over me, and I’d vowed not to ever let that happen again. Cole is the polar opposite of him…but maybe that’s part of the problem? Maybe I’m attracted to guys that are rough around the edges, and Cole’s a little too smooth.
Then Callum walks in and all rational thoughts go out the window. I know from what the girls tell me that he’s not looking for a relationship, he’s looking for sex. I can’t help that little part of me that clings on to the hope that maybe that’s not true; maybe I’m different. Or maybe I’m just clinging to anyone and anything after the past couple of months. I’m scared to go to my apartment, I’m in debt up to my eyeballs and when I need to be the most clear-minded I’ve ever been in my life, I’m letting myself get bogged down by men.
Why can’t I just focus?
