Текст книги "Easy Love"

Автор книги: Kristen Proby

сообщить о нарушении

Текущая страница: 8 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

I watch her for a long moment, then tug her into my lap, cup her face in my hands, and kiss the fuck out of her. “You’re all I see, Kate. I don’t give a shit about other women. So you don’t have to worry about me fucking anyone but you for as long as you’re here.”

“And no love.”

Why does that statement make my heart hurt? 

“I don’t do love, cher.”

“Me neither.”

Liar.

“But one other thing,” I say, my lips against hers.

“What?”

“You’re going to say fuck again today. You’re going to say it a lot.”

“Why does that turn you on?” She giggles and sinks her fingers into the hair on the back of my head.

“Because hearing those dirty words come out of your pretty mouth makes me hard.” I kiss her, long and deep, then pull away when we’re both gasping for breath. “Jesus, everything you do makes me hard.”

“Maybe it’s just been a while since you got laid.”

That’s what I thought too.

“No, it’s you. It’s just you.”

Chapter Twelve

Kate

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to Mama’s for dinner?” Gabby asks us as she gathers her handbag and car keys and settles Sam’s baseball cap on his head.

“We’ll be fine here,” Eli replies with a grin, sips his sweet tea, and keeps his sexy, naughty eyes on me. “I’ll show Kate around.”

“I thought you showed her around yesterday,” Gabby replies dryly. Eli simply shrugs one shoulder and takes another sip of his tea, watching me. God, he’s potent. He showed me around yesterday, all right. Around his body, and mine, and I’m pretty sure he discovered erogenous zones that I didn’t even know I had.

And muscles. I’m sore today. Sore. My inner thigh muscles are singing. How does that happen?

“How is it that you don’t have any guests tonight?” I ask.

“I always have an empty inn on Sunday nights. That gives me time to catch up on laundry and cooking for the upcoming week, and I can get away to Mama’s for dinner.”

“Convenient for me,” Eli says, and laughs when Gabby glares at him.

“You’re my brother.”

“That’s the rumor,” he says with a smile.

“No, you are,” Sam adds solemnly. “Nannan says so. Plus, you look alike. I don’t have any brothers.”

“No, you don’t,” Gabby says with a laugh.

“I want some, though,” Sam adds.

“Let’s go.” Gabby sighs and shakes her head. “Clean up your own messes, big brother.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he replies in that slow, sexy accent that never fails to make me weak in the knees, and the grin spreads over his face when Gabby’s engine starts and drives down the driveway. “Alone at last.”

“We’re alone quite often,” I remind him.

“Mm,” he replies, leaning his hands on the kitchen island, just staring at me with that smirk on his face as I lean on the breakfast bar opposite him.

“Are you going to just…do me here on the counter?”

“Do you?” He tilts his head back and forth, as if he’s considering it. “Probably. But first, I’m going to cook for you.”

“Cook for me.” It isn’t a question. “You cook.”

“I cook just fine, thank you very much.” He cocks a brow.

I bet he does. He does everything very well.

“And what are you going to cook?”

“You’ll see.” He turns to the fridge and begins gathering supplies, moving about the kitchen as if he’s perfectly comfortable here. Which kind of throws me, because let’s face it, watching the uber successful billionaire businessman, who admits to being a workaholic, work in the kitchen like it’s second nature is…hot.

“Where did you learn to cook?”

He chooses a knife from the butcher block and begins chopping up an onion.

“Mama taught us all to cook.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“Just look gorgeous and keep me company.”

“Charming,” I reply with a sigh. He’s in another black T-shirt and blue jeans, which I think is unusual for him, but look amazing on him.  His forearms flex and bunch as he chops. Just like they bunch when he’s over me, gripping onto the mattress as he thrusts in and out of me. His whole body gets tight. And this man isn’t short on muscles.

I want to lick him.

“Kate?”

“Huh?” I blink rapidly and try to focus. “What did you say?”

He sets the knife on the cutting board and smiles. “What were you just thinking about?”

My first reaction is to say nothing, but instead I walk very slowly around the island toward him. “I was thinking about licking you.”

He leans his hips against the island and crosses his arms, making his biceps flex, and just like that, I want to tear his clothes off.

“Is that right?”

I nod.

“Where would you like to lick me?”

I grin and drag a fingertip down his neck. “Right here.”

He swallows hard, making me even wetter. I love turning him on.

“You’re distracting me,” he says evenly, and it would bruise my ego if his eyes hadn’t just dilated and the pulse in his neck sped up.

“I think that’s the point.”

He shakes his head and returns to chopping. “I’m cooking dinner.”

“I don’t particularly give a crap about dinner.”

He smiles, like he always does when I don’t use the usual curse words, but doesn’t look me in the eye.

“You’ll give a shit later, cher. You’ll need the energy for what I have planned.”

“That sounds fun.” I cup his very firm, stellar ass in my hand and kiss his bicep. “Let’s skip to that part.”

He laughs, turns and lifts me into his arms, my legs wrapped around his waist, and kisses me mindless, until I can’t think; I can’t even feel my fingertips.

But I can sure as heck feel the pulsing between my legs.

The next thing I know, he sets me on the counter top, plants a smacking kiss on my lips and backs away, returning to the cutting board just a few feet away.

“Stay.”

I stick my lower lip out in a pout and bat my eyes at him, but he just reaches over and smooths the pad of his thumb over my lip, drags his knuckles down my cheek, and whispers, “Trust me. Let me feed you. Let me pamper you a bit. I like it.”

Well, how in the heck am I supposed to say no to that?

“Can I snack while you cook?” I ask, as he chops through celery surprisingly quickly.

“Sure.” He passes me a celery stalk. “Wine?”

“Always.”

He pours us each a glass of white, we clink our glasses together, and take a sip before he resumes chopping and I munch my celery.

“You feed me a lot.”

“You’re a good eater.”

I pause with the celery halfway to my mouth and frown at him.

“What are you implying?”

“That you eat well?” He asks with a shrug.

I glance down at my small-ish chest and flat-ish stomach and then back at him. “Am I fat?”

He busts out laughing, not breaking his stride in his chopping.

“No, Kate. You’re not fat. You enjoy food. And in doing so, I enjoy watching you eat. I’d feed you every meal every day if I could.”

Oh.

“Can I have more celery?”

He grins, passes me the celery, and kisses me soundly before pulling away to get back to work.

Sitting here, watching him cook, is not a hardship in the least.

***

Dinner was delicious. Eli is just one big surprise after another. It’s amazing to me how normal he is. The whole family, really, and it shouldn’t, because I’ve been so close to Van and Dec for so many years, but this family is rich beyond my wildest dreams, yet they’re as grounded and down to earth as anyone else. There aren’t servants bustling about. Their cars are new and expensive, but no Aston Martin.

And on a Sunday afternoon, I’m lying on the couch with this powerful man, who has the ear of governors and high-powered people, who runs a multi-billion dollar enterprise with ease and efficiency.

He’s snuggling me, on his back, with me lying on his chest, watching some stupid movie on cable, while his fingertips glide up and down my bare arm, my shoulder, my neck and into my hair and back down again.

If I could purr, I so would right now.

“We have the whole house to ourselves, and you want to watch a movie?” I ask lazily. He plants his lips on my head, takes a deep breath, and hugs me tight before his fingers resume their trek over my skin.

“Is there something else you’d rather do?”

“Well…” I grin and kiss his heart, over his T-shirt, breathing him in. He smells good. Clean. A little citrusy. I shift my pelvis over his and feel him start to harden, and his fingers still on my shoulder. “Yes.”

His fingers sink into my hair as I kiss down his torso, lifting his shirt as I go, and plant wet kisses over his flat, chiseled abdomen. His breathing speeds up, but he’s quiet; the only sounds are the TV and my lips smacking on his smooth, warm skin.

I could kiss his stomach all day long.

His T-shirt slips back down, and I frown up at him. “Can we dispose of this, please?”

He sits up and pulls his shirt over his head, tosses it on the floor, and shuts the TV off before lying back down. “Better?”

“Hmm.” I push up to kiss his lips, tug on the lower lip with my teeth, then work my way down his throat, chest, and back to his stomach, enjoying the ridges of the muscles there. “I thought the six-pack was a myth. Or the work of Photoshop.”

“Not if you work your ass off for it,” he replies. His breath hitches when my tongue finds the groove of that V in his hips and trace it down to where it disappears into his jeans. I make quick work of the button and zipper, and smile when I see he’s not wearing underwear.

Convenient.

His erection springs free into my hand, and I immediately grip it and pump it twice. Eli tosses his head back and groans, then turns his hot eyes back on me as I slowly lick from his scrotum to the tip in one long, fluid motion and rub the underside of the head on the flat of my tongue before taking him in my mouth and sucking, not too hard, but enough to get his attention.

And by the way his hand tightens in my hair, right at the scalp, where it feels so darn good when he pulls, I’ve got his attention.

“Fuck, that feels good.”

I take him deeper, until the head is at the back of my throat, and I swallow, massaging him, loving the way it seems to grow even bigger in my mouth, firm my lips and pull up, lick the head, and repeat the motion.

“Look at me.”

My eyes find his. They’re hot, narrowed just a bit. His mouth is open as he pants. The hand not gripping my hair is behind his head, and his whole body is heaving.

It’s sexy as hell that I can turn him on like this after just a few moments.

I lick down his shaft and over his tight balls, lightly suck them, then work my way back up to take him into my mouth once again. He begins to gently guide me into a pace that he likes, barely thrusting up to meet me. Not forcing me, but rather guiding me, and I love it.

“Grip your lips just a little tighter.”

I comply and he hisses out a breath.

“Fuck, baby.” His hips are moving faster, and suddenly, he’s pulling my hair, but I stay where I am. “Kate, I don’t want to come in your mouth.”

I hum and stubbornly stay put, but after only two more pushes and pulls with my mouth, he grips onto my shoulders and pulls me up his body, claims my mouth with his, and effortlessly reverses our position, pinning me beneath him on the cushions of the couch.

“I was having fun,” I pout.

“That’s not how this works, cher.” He nibbles my lips, brushes his nose over mine, and then plants soft kisses on my cheek.

“How what works?” I ask breathlessly. Good God, this man can kiss. Is this legal in the state of Louisiana?

Probably not.

“This.” He repeats softly as he continues to pepper my skin with kisses. “You’re not going to just suck me off and make me come and call it a day.”

“Well, that wasn’t really my plan. I was just having fun.”

“Hmm.” He kisses my collarbone. “I’ll be back. I don’t have a condom on me.”

“Wait.” I grip his arms, keeping him still. “I have the birth control covered.”

He raises a brow. “Are you sure? I don’t mind using them.” He kisses my collarbone again. “I’ve never not used them.”

“I don’t mind,” I whisper. “Unless there’s something you need to tell me.”

He offers me a wicked smile and kisses me deeply.

I glide my hands down his naked back to his ass, under his loose jeans, and hold on tight as he presses his pelvis to mine, grinding against me and making me even wetter, if that’s even possible. Is there anything sexier than a man’s ass when it’s barely covered by undone jeans?

No. No, there’s not.

“Eli,” I whisper.

“Yes, baby.”

“My clothes are still on.”

He grins against my lips and settles over me, his elbows planted on either side of my head. “Yes, they are.”

“Take them off,” I demand softly and wiggle beneath him, still gripping his ass, and the arch of my foot rubbing over his denim-covered calf.

“No.”

He grips onto my hair and tilts my head to the side as he drags his lips down my jawline to my neck and proceeds to drive me out of my ever-loving mind with his talented mouth and tongue. My nipples have puckered, my hands grip him tighter, one still on his ass, the other now buried in his soft hair.

My hips tilt up, pressing against his hard on, and I want him inside me.

Now.

“Eli, please. Need you inside me.”

“I’ll get there,” he replies lazily, and works his way around to the other side of my neck.

“Can we go a bit faster here?” I ask breathlessly, and then groan when his tongue skims over my sweet spot. “God, I love it when you hit that spot.”

“I know,” he whispers and does it again, making my toes curl.

“Eli.” I’m whining, and I hate myself for it, but for the love of all that’s holy, why isn’t he naked and inside me?

“Kate,” he says and bites the tender skin at the top of my shoulder. “It’s Sunday.”

I frown, but then sigh when he finally pulls my shirt up my body and guides it over my head. “What does the day of the week have to do with anything?”

He pulls the cups of my bra down and slowly circles one puckered nipple with his tongue, then blows on it and repeats the motion on the other side.

Moving as slowly as humanly possible.

He’s trying to kill me.

“You’re in the South. Don’t you know that we don’t do anything quickly on Sunday?” He’s kissing down my stomach now, and I’m a bit self-conscious because hello, I don’t have a six pack. Or any kind of pack.

But he doesn’t seem to mind as he moves down my body, and I’m expecting him to pull my denim shorts off, but instead, he bypasses the center of my universe and begins kissing my legs.

My legs.

“Really?” I demand with a laugh, earning a sharp bite on the inside of my right thigh.

“Patience, Kate.”

“Not patient.”

He chuckles and drags his fingernails down my outer thighs, calves, to my bare feet and back up again while his mouth does something completely crazy to the back of my knee.

Apparently, he didn’t find all of my erogenous zones yesterday.

“Oh, my God,” I murmur, and can’t keep my hips from shifting and moving. He’s going to make me come without even touching me.

How is that possible?

“Open your eyes, sugar.” My gaze meets his, and I’m surprised to find his eyes on fire, watching me as he unzips my shorts, guides them down my legs, and tosses them over his shoulder. “No underwear for you either?”

I shrug and smile at him, but he doesn’t return it. He’s still watching me intently, braced on the back of the couch, as his fingers glide up my inner thigh and brush, ever so gently, over my lips, my clit, and then…my stomach.

Really? He’s not going to hang out in the one place that’s screaming for him?

I must frown because a wicked smile breaks out over that impossibly handsome face of his and he cocks a brow. “You don’t like that?”

“You’re teasing me.”

“Yes.” He watches my face as his fingers find my core again, but it’s just his fingertips tickling over my lips, the crease where my leg meets my center. I reach for his wrist to guide him inside, but he quickly grips my hand in his, kisses it, and places it above my head. “You’re not controlling this.” His lips are barely touching my own. “You’re going to be patient, and enjoy. It’s Sunday.”

“You’ve never been lazy on a Sunday in your life,” I whisper against his lips. Jesus, I can’t catch my breath.

I’m going to die of asphyxiation before I get to come. That’s not fair.

“There’s a first for everything,” he replies softly, bites my lower lip, then resumes the torture happening between my legs. He glances down. “Fuck me, you’re wet.”

“That happens when you do stuff to me,” I reply and circle my hips.

“Stuff?” he repeats. “What kind of stuff?”

I’m not strong enough to fight him on my language. I don’t care if I swear. All I can focus on is having him over me, in me. Now.

“When you kiss me and touch me and tease me with fucking me,” I reply, and feel very satisfied when his eyes widen.

“I do love hearing those filthy words come out of your pretty mouth,” he murmurs in that slow Cajun accent that makes me crazy. His fingers are rubbing my lips harder now, gliding effortlessly through my wet folds. Finally, he scoots down, kisses my navel piercing, slides one finger inside me, and plants his mouth on my clit, not sucking, just being and I cry out, gripping the cushions at my hips, pushing my hips up to grind on his lips.

He pulls the finger back out, and gently licks over my lips, clit and folds, plants the flat of his tongue over my clit, and pushes two fingers inside me; I push up onto my elbows, watching as he turns me inside out.

“Oh, my God, Eli, you’re gonna make me…”

He pulls away, kisses me between my navel and pubis, and grins when I growl at him.

“Your pussy is so soft,” he says, as though he’s just making casual conversation. His fingers are moving in and out, slowly, methodically. If he’d just press his thumb on my sweet spot, I’d come spectacularly.

But I have a feeling that’s not going to happen yet.

“You have this spot…” he shoves his fingers all the way in, and makes a come here motion that makes me see stars. “Right behind your pubic bone. Don’t close your eyes,” he orders. I look up at him as his fingers pick up speed. He’s watching me as he pushes on that spot again.

“How didn’t I know about this spot before?” I ask breathlessly, and then cry out when he settles the tips of his fingers there and rubs gently.

His eyes flare in male satisfaction. “You’re good for my ego, cher.”

“You’re good for my,” I swallow, “pussy.”

“Fuck yes, I am.” He rubs a little harder and I arch up off the couch. “Come, baby.”

And that’s all it takes, his voice, his breath on my skin, his fingers doing crazy amazing things inside me, and I come apart. I go blind, my core tightens, and I ride the wave of the orgasm as it shoots through me.

When I open my eyes, Eli is smiling down at me. He pulls his fingers out and covers me, guides himself inside me until he’s balls-deep, and stays there, not moving.

I grip onto his cock with my muscles and grin when he swears under his breath. His jeans are still on, which for some reason, I find very sexy.

Everything about him is fucking sexy.

I grip his ass and pulse against him. “Move, Eli.”

He shakes his head and tips his forehead against mine. “Not yet.”

His whiskey eyes are trained on mine. He watches me as he pulls his hips back, then pushes back in slowly. “Your face is so expressive,” he whispers. “And this feels so fucking amazing.”

“The ridge of your cock rubs against that spot you’ve discovered,” I whisper.

“Like that?” His smile is more than a little naughty.

“So good.”

I bite my lip and tighten on him as he drags in and out of me. His eyes are on me, hands buried in my hair, gripping onto my scalp as he moves, and it occurs to me: this is what the fuss is all about. This is how a woman is supposed to be touched, looked at.

Respected.

Protected.

It’s so unfamiliar to me, and sad at the same time, because I was married damn it, and I had no idea. How is it that sex with the man I was supposed to love was just…empty? And sex with Eli is…everything?

But Eli and I agreed. No love. Just fun.

This has an expiration date.

“Stop,” he demands and begins to move faster, a bit harder.

“Stop what?”

“Thinking.” He does something with his hips that has me gasping for breath, and in this moment, I can’t remember my own name. “Grip my cock, Kate.”

He pulls one of my legs up onto his shoulder to open me wider, and he sinks deeper inside, bumping my pubis with his, and holy shit, I see stars.

“Eli.”

“That’s right, baby.” He smiles down at me. “You’re amazing. I can see it building. Come for me.”

I bite my lip and close my eyes, bear down on him, and fall apart all over again, shocked that it’s so soon.

“Fuck,” he whispers as he cups my ass and clutches me close to him, grinding inside me as he finds his own release. “Fuck, Kate.”

“Yes,” I sigh. “You just fucked Kate.”

“As soon as I can move, you’re getting spanked for that.”

“You like it when I say fuck.”

“I like spanking you too.”

I feel him grin against my chest where he’s resting and smile in return. I rather like the spanking myself.

I like Eli. And that could be dangerous.