Chasing Kings (16 page)

Sam kissed him again, her hands returning to their previous position, now working him with both fists, making it hard for him to concentrate on her mouth.

“Slow…” he breathed against her lips. “We can take this slow.”

“But, I… I want…”

“What do you want, beautiful? Tell me what you want.”

Her strokes slowed, and she opened her eyes, big green irises staring up at him with a silent awe.

“No one has ever asked me that before,” she said after a moment.

“You’re fucking with me.”

“No.” She shook her head to drive the point home. “Never.”

“Baby, don’t take this the wrong way, but you’ve been fucking all the wrong guys.”

Chapter Eighteen

What do you want?

Such a simple question, yet no one had thought to ask her before. All the guys from her past, the whopping four of them there had been, only sought their own end or tried
way
too hard to make her come, and most had failed miserably.

Yet here was this man, and in spite of his obviously
strong
desire, he was asking her what
she
wanted. Sexually, he’d already dazzled her more than all her former lovers combined, and he hadn’t been inside her yet. A mental list of all the things she’d seen or read or dreamed about spooled through her head, but the words caught in her throat. Struck by a sudden shyness, she was unable to vocalize what she
really
wanted. The fantasies would have to wait for someone she knew better, someone who would be around for more than a few days.

As much as she liked him, and as much as her feelings for him went beyond
fling
, she still couldn’t see anything happening after she flew home on Monday. She couldn’t tell him the truth for fear he would stick around out of a sense of obligation. She didn’t want anyone to care for her only because they thought they
had
to.

So Ethan was going to be a good vacation romance story, and the sex would take her mind off the now-crushing debt awaiting her when she got home. Holding his erection in both fists went a long way to driving away words like
second mortgage
.

“I just want you,” she said finally.

He seemed disappointed, as if he’d expected more from her, but what could she say, really? Ethan might be the perfect man to admit,
I’d like to try anal…maybe, but maybe not
, because it would be run-of-the-mill for him, but she still couldn’t say it.

“Just me?” he repeated, his tone implying
Are you sure?

Sam nodded.

“I’ll be good to you,” he whispered, unclasping her bra with such precision she didn’t realize he’d done it until it was half off.

He latched on to her nipple, his stubble rough against the sensitive skin of her breast, and when he bit down, she let out an excited, “
Oh.
”

“You like that?” he mumbled into her flesh, teasing her by rolling the swollen bud between his front teeth, gentle, but with enough pressure to ride the line of pleasure and pain.

“Yes,” she groaned.

“If you won’t tell me want you want, I’m going to figure it out on my own. I can read you pretty well, you know.” The promise had a threatening edge to it, but it was one she wanted to see him follow through on. He switched sides, repeating the same biting and licking pattern on her other nipple while pinching the already reddened one between his thumb and forefinger, keeping her attention divided between the two sensations.

Her hands lost their rhythm, and she let go of his cock, drowning in the perfect ecstasy of pleasure his mouth was giving her.

Just when she thought she might go mad, he pulled away with one last flick of the tongue. The look he gave her before settling back over her was a mix of triumph and near-drunken satisfaction.

“You want me,” he told her, a proclamation rather than a question.

“Yes,” she answered anyway.

“How bad do you want me?” His hands ran up the length of her thighs, fingers cupping her sex over the sheer lace of her panties. She gasped again from the unexpected electricity of his touch. “How bad?”

“Very.” She squirmed up to meet his exploring digits but suddenly felt too shy to touch him back. He was working her with the expert strokes of a master, and she had barely figured out paint by numbers. How could she hope to give him half the pleasure he’d already given her?

He pushed aside her underwear without removing it, slicking two fingers over her lips before delving inside her with deep, commanding thrusts.

“You want me
bad
.” He withdrew his fingers, circling her clit with his thumb in maliciously slow strokes. “You’re so fucking wet, baby.”

It was the dirtiest anyone had spoken to her, and the seedy quality of the words made her even wetter. She writhed up, arching her hips into his exploring fingers.

“I’m going to take these off.” He stopped touching her long enough to remove the embarrassingly dampened underwear and toss them aside. He returned his attention to her, favoring her with purposeful, slow strokes as he lay down on her again, kissing her.

The heat remained, but their almost indecent ferocity had mellowed. Now the kisses were gentle and sweet and made her feel warm through and through, while he used his well-trained fingers to bring her to the edge of what promised to be a mind-bending orgasm.

Like riding a roller coaster, she felt the tension building as she rose to the highest point, and right before she got there everything got slow, as if time were moving backwards and she might never make it over.

Then he thrust his fingers into her again while continuing to circle her clit with faster motions, and she fell. The roller coaster hit the edge, and she was in free fall, screaming her way to the bottom even though she couldn’t catch her breath.

He pulled his fingers out and kissed her softly while she trembled through the aftershocks of the orgasm, panting against his lips with her eyes shut tight like she feared she might fall apart if she opened them.

“You good, baby?”

“So good,” she whispered, when she found she could breathe again.

“You ready for me?”

She recalled the way she hadn’t been able to contain him with two hands, and how he’d filled her mouth earlier that night with both his thickness
and
length.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready for you.”

Ethan laughed, his voice hoarse from heavy breathing. “You’d be surprised.”

He hopped off the bed and crossed the room to where his jacket sat on the couch. Rifling through the pocket, he withdrew a small foil packet, tore it open with his teeth and rolled it on with the perfected ease of a friendly handshake. She was impressed, both with the speed of his maneuver and that she hadn’t had to remind him to get a condom.

When he returned to the bed, he nudged her legs wider with gentle pressure from his thighs. Feeling the head of his cock at her opening, Sam froze, momentarily worried she
wouldn’t
be able to continue.

“Just relax,” he whispered, sensing her tension. He smoothed her hair back and kissed her more deeply this time. The now-familiar way his tongue flirted with hers and the perfect harmony of their lips working together made the nerves melt away, and she lifted her hips to meet him.

He entered her slowly, and in spite of her wetness he still felt
huge
. She winced, clawing at his back, her short nails digging into his skin as he thrust deeper.

They rode a fine line, the pain of her body stretching to accommodate him mixed with a formerly unknown ecstasy that found her climbing the tracks again, ready for another downward rush into bliss.

Sam clamped her legs around him, accepting him as deep as she could, and when he was fully sheathed, they lay still for a moment, both damp with sweat, her breath hitching.

“You good?” he asked again.

“Mmhmm.” Words weren’t going to happen, let alone full sentences.

He pulled out almost all the way, and Sam was amazed that a presence she’d once found invasive now left her feeling empty when it was gone. He thrust into her, harder this time, and she bit down on his shoulder to stifle her yelp. She worried if he thought it was hurting her he might stop. She didn’t want him to.

Remembering how to use her tongue, she said as much. “Don’t stop.
Don’t stop.
”

“
Good,
” he growled in response, twining his fingers through her hair while he buried himself deep inside her over and over. Tears welled in her eyes from the overabundance of new sensations, feelings she couldn’t affix a name to.

He clutched her to his chest and pulled them both into a sitting position, clasping her hips while he showed her a new rhythm. She picked up the tempo, following the instructions of his hands as she rode him, her feet digging into the duvet.

He bit down on her nipple, and she jerked hard, screaming out his name as the orgasm hit her. It happened so suddenly she hadn’t had time to prepare for it. Her whole body clenched, and the tightness inside her made him feel twice as big.

He grunted, his body rocking against hers as he trembled slightly, and she felt his release like a sigh within her. When he lay down on top of her again, their arms and legs as disarrayed as a Picasso painting, they were both wet and breathing hard.

“Sweet Jesus,” she said, barely catching her breath.

“You told me to say thank you.”

Chapter Nineteen

Sam was sleeping when Ethan left.

He planned to return, so he wasn’t sure why he felt sick about sneaking out. Maybe it was the act of leaving her in bed, her hair a tangled mess against the white sheets. Every part of him said that was where he belonged, but he had somewhere he needed to be.

Grabbing the envelope from the coffee table, he slipped his shoes on quietly and stole into the hall before Sam had a chance to notice he’d left.

If all went well, he could meet Julian, pay off his debt and walk away scot-free before Sam realized his side of the bed was empty.

His side of the bed.

Jesus, how had he gotten to that point so soon? In a matter of days he already wanted to mark his territory around her. Sam was different from other women he knew, she was special. She didn’t make him feel cheap or like an object.

Sex hadn’t been her ultimate goal with him.

But goddamn if the sex hadn’t been extraordinary. Which was saying something considering his line of work.

It had been so much more than what he had come to expect. The sighs and gasps and screams, none of it had been staged. When he’d made her come, he’d
felt
it in a way that couldn’t be faked. With Sam the sex was all about pleasure, not about camera angles or getting the money shot.

Coming inside a woman instead of on her—twice in one night no less—was a treat he hadn’t realized he craved so badly. Where some men wanted to go without condoms, Ethan had that luxury with his day job. Rigorous and regular testing for all actors meant fear of disease was next to none, and the female performers were all on birth control.

So bareback wasn’t that special for him.

But even with a condom on, getting to come inside Sam had felt like getting off for the first time as a teenager. It was better than having her swallow his load earlier. He started getting hard again thinking about it, and he didn’t want to meet Julian sporting a raging boner.

Instead he thought about what Julian would subject him to if he didn’t pay up, and that deeply unsexy, downright frightening thought put a damper on any brewing excitement.

Ethan had texted Julian to meet him at a bar in Caesars Palace called The Gossy Room. It was in a public walkway between Caesars and the Bellagio, meaning violence would be kept to a minimum, but it was small enough people would mind their own business long enough for Ethan to conduct his transaction.

He took a cab the short distance between the two hotels and wound his way through the maze of the casino until he found the bar. Julian’s shiny silver-gray hair and patches of bald head were a beacon from down the hall, telling him the other man had arrived early.

Just his luck, because Julian hated to be kept waiting.

Ethan sat next to him on one of the cushy barstools. At least the older man had come alone. Or kept his dogs at a safe distance.

“Nice of you to finally show up,” Julian commented.

Ethan didn’t bother pointing out he was still five minutes early. Arguing with Julian wouldn’t solve anything. It would only create new problems. And the last thing Ethan needed was new problems.

Instead, he muttered, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Tell me you have what I want.”

Ethan ordered a scotch to satisfy the exhausted-looking waitress, and once she left he removed the envelope from his jacket pocket and slid it across the gleaming black bar. Julian peered inside the packet, counting the bills quickly but not missing a single one. He stopped and removed a piece of paper, handing it back to Ethan.

“Keep your receipt. Might need it for your taxes.” He chuckled to himself—a criminal laughing about fudging his income tax—and clapped Ethan on the back of his shoulder. Ethan winced to have the man touch him. “I’ve gotta say, I’m surprised you managed to pull it off. If I didn’t know better—and I
do
know better—I’d say you had lucky rabbits’ feet in place of your balls.”