Page 32 of Sweet Surrender

“Then tell me to get away. But make me believe it,” I added when she took a breath, prepared to do just that, and her arguments dissolved into nothing but a whimper. She couldn’t lie to me or herself, and she knew it.

It was too much. I couldn’t fight it another second, not when she was right there, helpless in the face of what we shared. What she couldn’t forget. What I didn’t want to forget.

The first touch of her lips was a rush, going straight to my head and making it spin while a flash of heat came close to melting my skin off. At the same time, it was so right, like slipping into an old pair of jeans. Something that fit so perfectly I couldn’t do anything but stretch out on top of her before drinking in another kiss, then another.

She melted the way I knew she would, falling back against the bed, nails digging into my shoulders before running through my hair. My tongue stroked hers until she moaned into my mouth, a guttural sound that made my cock jump and twitch. With one leg wrapped around my hip, she pulled me close, her greedy body betraying her useless attempts at fighting the inevitable. We were never going to walk away like nothing happened. It wasn’t possible. Not when the same electricity that had hummed between us sparked and crackled in the air as I rolled onto my side, and she went with me.

Her hips jerked, her pussy grinding against my covered cock, and I couldn’t help but press my hand against her mound. Her desperate cry left me pressing harder, grinding the heel of my hand against her slit, which wasn’t enough for either of us.

Our friends and family partied outside while I worked my fingers inside her leggings, finding the place where it was hot and wet, pushing aside the crotch of her panties to dip inside her sopping pussy.

“So wet for me,” I rasped out after breaking the kiss to gulp in some air. She buried her face in my neck, nearly sobbing by the time I sank two fingers deep into her juicy cunt, working her clit with my thumb, playing her body like the exquisite instrument it was. Teasing her earlobe with my teeth, shuddering the way she did. “Are you going to come for me? Are you going to be my good girl and come over my fingers?”

She clung to me tighter, hips bucking, hot breath against my skin. “Yes!” she gasped out.

“You like the way I make your pussy feel?” Fuck, I would come in my pants if this went on much longer, building her up with every stroke and word I whispered into her ear. “Tell me,” I urged, stroking her G-spot while tracing circles over her bundle of nerves.

“Oh God!” she cried out, clawing at my back. “Yes… yes, I do! Oh, God, Noah, please!”

“Please what?” She was so close I could barely move my fingers once her muscles began to clench around them.

“Please, let me come!” she sobbed, fucking my fingers wildly. I liked her better this way, being able to hear her greedy desperation while I worked her body into a frenzy. There was nothing like the satisfaction of feeling her go stiff, hearing her breath catch in that last moment before she shuttered, trembled, and coated my palm with her juices. By the time I pulled my slick fingers free from her pussy, she whimpered and trembled against me.

“Good girl,” I whispered in approval. “You come so well for me.” She whimpered against my neck, wrapping her body around mine until I gritted my teeth against the desire to take her the way she so clearly wanted. Not here, not now, when anyone could disturb us. The thrill of fingering her was one thing, but I had to be smart enough to leave things where they were.

“Where are you going?” There was disappointment in the question when I sat up, leaving her alone.

“Back outside before anybody misses me. Take care of that ankle.” If I didn’t leave her then and there, the slim thread of self-control I clung to would snap. As it was, I barely made it across the hall to my room before my aching dick demanded release from my shorts.

I unzipped my khakis and shoved a hand inside my boxer briefs on the way to the attached bathroom, pulling my erect cock free. Precum coated the head, and I used it to fuck my fist, already close enough that the familiar tingle had begun at the base of my spine. I could see her in my mind’s eye, still hear her moans, and smell her on my skin.

All at once, the rush came over me, and I went with it, spilling my seed in one spurt after another against a hand towel. By the time I finished, I was weak-kneed, leaning against the sink for support, my ragged breath the only sound in the otherwise empty room.

One thing was clear before I ever managed to catch my breath.

I would need to have her again and as soon as possible. She was the sort of habit a man couldn’t break—not that I wanted to try.

15

SIENNA

If the past thirty-six hours had proven anything, it was how completely fucked up Noah had made me. I was so sure on the way out here that I could face ignoring him all weekend for the sake of keeping up appearances. It was safer that way. Besides, I had plenty of practice with it. I had honed my skills for a decade.

But then Friday night happened, and he had to go and touch me the way he did. He had to kiss me and melt all of my resistance. He had to wipe away all of my resentment and fear.

And then? He pretended none of it happened.

The push-and-pull power exchange that turned me on while we were at the club did the opposite in real life. Now, he was on top, and he let me know it by going out of his way to keep things cordial but distant in front of the rest of the group. He went out of his way to make sure we were never alone and barely made eye contact. Not because he was nervous or regretful. That wasn’t Noah. I knew him better than that.

It was because, damn him, he had to know that little orgasm had only woken up my appetite. There was no such thing as enough when it came to him and what he did to me.

He was going to make me work for more. I knew it the second I saw the raging boner jutting out when he got up from the bed. Only a man determined to torture me would walk away when he was that hard, not to mention I was so obviously willing.

Well, fuck that. Okay, so I knew he wasn’t making fun back in my office. The time we’d had together wasn’t a joke to him. Something good had come out of those wild moments stretched out on the guest bed.

But I wasn’t about to beg, not even for cock or one as impressive as his. He was dead wrong if he thought playing games all weekend would work.

“Sienna, another mimosa?” Rose held up the bottle of champagne and the pitcher of orange juice, her eyebrows moving up and down. “You need to enjoy yourself a little this weekend.”

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