Page 22 of Made for You
“Tell me how good it feels,” I demanded as I quickened my pace, my hands gripping her hips hard enough to leave marks.
“So good,” she whimpered, her thighs trembling beneath me. “You’re so deep. I can feel you everywhere.”
I could begin to feel the world beyond this room slipping away. I let go of the crushing weight of my family name and hers, becoming nothing more than a man seeking pleasure in a woman who fit me like she was made for me. Siena met me stroke for stroke, her honeyed moans filling the space between us with soft, pleading words that fell from her lips like a prayer.
“Oh god,” she breathed out. “Oh god, oh god, oh god.”
All my anger and frustration melted away, replaced by an undeniable hunger that consumed me. No matter how complicated things were between us, and no matter how tangled our story became, our bodies spoke a language that needed no translation. It was raw, honest, and unlike anything I’d ever felt before.
My release was building at the base of my spine, a freight train of pleasure threatening to barrel through me. But I couldn’t let go—not yet. Not until she fell first. I gritted my teeth against the mounting pressure, determined to wring every last drop of pleasure from her body before I allowed myself the same.
“I need you to come now, honey.” I reached around to find her swollen clit, circling it with my thumb.
Siena went rigid beneath me, a strangled cry tearing from her throat as she shattered. She reached back blindly, her fingers digging into my wrist in an attempt to anchor herself.
I pulled out with a groan, my release painting hot streaks at the base of her spine as my vision blurred at the edges. For asecond, I simply stood there, my chest heaving, staring at the sight of her bent over her dining room table, her dress bunched at her waist, her panties around her knees, and her body still visibly trembling from the orgasm I’d wrung out of her.
I swiped my thumb through the mess as it slid down between her cheeks, and I couldn’t stop myself from pressing against her hole. She gasped, her whole body shuddering as the tight ring loosened and the tip of my finger slid inside. “Next time,” I rasped, my voice hoarse from holding back my earlier shouts. “This is mine.”
Siena’s head dropped forward, a broken sound spilling from her lips, and she nodded. “God, yes.”
The way she said it—like she’d give me anything I asked for—lit something primal in me—something I couldn’t afford to let loose. Because the second this stopped being only about sex, the second I admitted how much I already wanted her outside this room, I was done for. And a man who spent his life railing against what she stood for couldn’t afford to fall in love with Siena Bellrose.
Gently, I slid my thumb out and gave one last slow circle over her hole, savoring the way she trembled beneath me, before tearing myself away. I wiped my hand on the hem of her dress and tucked myself away before yanking my zipper back up with hands that shook harder than I wanted to admit, my pulse thundering in my ears.
Every instinct screamed at me to haul Siena against my chest, carry her upstairs, and lose myself in her until the sun came up. But if I did that, if I let myself cross from sex into … something else, there’d be no going back.
I had to believe this was just about pleasure and bodies—hers and mine. Just release. Just need. Because if it wasn’t—if this was already something deeper—then I was the worst kind of hypocrite.
I bent forward at the waist, my mouth brushing the curve of her shoulder, breathing her in one last time. “Call me the next time you need my cock,” I said hoarsely, the words coming out like a plea I couldn’t disguise.
“I don’t have your number,” she croaked, pushing herself up, her dress falling down over the mess I’d made of her.
I stopped at stared at her for a beat, feeling my lips tip to the side in a smirk. “You’re a smart, resourceful woman, Siena Bellrose. If you want this badly enough—” I cupped myself over my jeans. Crude, yes, but so was everything about what we’d done here tonight. “You’ll find a way.”
And then I forced myself to walk out before I did the thing I wanted most—to stay.
CHAPTER EIGHT
My office was filledwith the scent of paint from the contractors finishing up in the lobby down the hall, a smell that made me slightly dizzy but one I associated with success. Specifically,mysuccess. Paint meant progress, and progress meant more hotels.
On my desk, supplier invoices were stacked in a precise, color-coded pile, while a reminder for a video interview I had scheduled with a potential pastry chef blinked insistently on my computer screen. I should have been concentrating on her impressive resume and reviewing my notes about some of the confections I’d drooled over on her Instagram page, but my brain kept wandering.
Instead of focusing on the experience I wanted to offer our clientele and whether she was a fit for that, my mind kept drifting to memories of this past weekend —the scrape of polished wood under my palms as I pushed up onto my toes, my thighs trembling as I pressed back against Gage’s cock, the sound of his voice rough in my ear, the relentless, almost punishing way he’d wrung every ounce of shuddering pleasure from my sweat-slicked body.
I shifted in my chair, crossing my legs tighter beneath my desk, willing the images away.
I didn’t need this sort of distraction. Not now. Lord knew I couldn’t afford it. Not with my older brothers breathing down my neck every day like sharks scenting blood in the water. I had to get this hotel opened on time—and under budget—and prove to the Bellrose board that I could step into my father’s footsteps when he retired next year.
The problem was, Gage hadn’t left me with a choice in the matter. That handsome, infuriating cowboy had absolutely ruined my concentration … and my ability to do my goddamn job right along with it.
After he’d fucked me six ways to Sunday with zero emotion or feeling, it was more than clear to me that any romance he’d been chasing before he knew my last name was no longer what he wanted.
Now, all it seemed like he was interested in was my body.
And wasn’t that precisely what I needed from him, too?
His parting words as he’d sauntered out of my house really were the perfect compromise. He could sate every aching, desperate need I had, while I kept my professional focus where it belonged.
