Page 60 of Haunted Love

His lips return to my neck, and as his tongue brushes over my skin, I relax around him. Finally, I start to rock my hips. I’ve never done this. The last time Izaac was inside of me, he took control. I was in his capable hands to do whatever he pleased, but this time, I’m taking the reins.

It takes me a second to get the feel of what I’m doing, but I quickly find my rhythm, and before I know it, my grip is tightening on his shoulder as I suck in a shallow gasp. “Oh, God,” I breathe, my forehead falling against his as his fingers dig into my hips.

“Just like that. Take what you need.”

His tone is so soothing, and I close my eyes, desperate to recapture the way it felt that first night.

Izaac reaches down between us, his thumb gently pressing to my clit and rubbing tight circles as I slowly begin to pick up my pace. My body quivers, the undeniable pleasure quickly taking over, and with each new thrust of my hips, I get closer to the edge.

“Izaac,” I pant with desperation.

“Let it go, Birdy,” he murmurs into my ear, his thumb circling my clit. “I’m right there with you.”

Swallowing hard, I push myself harder. The idea of Izaac Banks being ready to come inside of me sends a wave of goosebumps across my skin. Only something holds me back. “I . . . I—”

With his free hand, Izaac reaches up and curls his hand around the side of my jaw, his thumb stretching to the bottom of my chin and gently lifting. “Look at me, Aspen. Open those beautiful eyes.”

Fear pounds through my veins. I’m terrified of what happened earlier, so I shake my head, refusing to look at him. Izaac doesn’t take no for an answer. “Now,” he says in that authoritative tone that could bring me to my knees.

I can’t resist a second longer and peel my eyes open to the dim room. My gaze immediately locks onto his, and I swear, he sees right through to my soul, reading every thought and desire that’s ever pulsed through my body. “There you go, baby,” he murmurs, holding me captive with that striking stare. “Now let go.”

As if on cue, my body finally gives in, and my orgasm blasts through my body like a firework on the Fourth of July, decorating my vision with vibrant hues of black and gold. But as Izaac’s fingers dig into my hips and he sucks in a sharp breath, my world comes back into focus.

I watch him closely, having sat in my bedroom for years on end, listening to how he sounded as he came and then having to sit opposite him at the breakfast table, pretending as though I didn’t know what he’d done the night before, but this time, it’s different.

This time I get toseeit, experience it for myself, and to be the one who’s making him come . . . Holy shit. On some level, I knew that was what was going to happen in here, but now that it’s happening, I feel like a fucking goddess.

An intense thrill shoots through me. I become transfixed on his face, watching as the slightest crease appears between his brows and he sucks in a sharp breath.

Oh God. This is it.

My walls convulse around his sheer size and then finally, he empties himself inside of me, his body stiffening against mine and it’s fucking everything I knew it would be and more. He’s so fucking beautiful. Everything about him. As I bask in the afterglow and the knowledge that his cum is deep inside of me, all I can do is collapse against him, my forehead tipped against his as I struggle to catch my breath.

We remain in a comfortable silence, his big hand against my back until I finally find my composure. Then as if sensing my ability to think clearly, Izaac’s hand drops to my thigh and gives a gentle squeeze. “Come on,” he says. “That’s enough for tonight. It’s getting late.”

His dismissal is like a bucket of ice water over my head, and as I remember where we are with all the hows and whys, I awkwardly pull myself away, feeling his warm cum dripping out of me.

Izaac gets up and moves across the room, returning only a moment later with a washcloth in his hand. He moves right into me, and as he goes to help clean me up, I pull back and take it from his hand.

“I can manage,” I say, averting my gaze and hating this strange awkwardness that pulses in the air between us. This went from being such a real moment—two people on the same wavelength, sharing in the sweetest pleasure—to a meaningless business transaction. I feel dirty and used, but I was the one who wanted this. I set this in motion.

Izaac turns away to find his clothes, offering me just a moment of privacy, and I quickly clean myself up before scrambling for my dress. I don’t know what happened to my thong or even remember when that was torn off my body, but I don’t have it in me to search for it. Instead, I step into my dress and quickly pull it up just in time for Izaac to turn around, fully clothed.

“You good?” he asks for what must be the millionth time.

I give him a tight smile and turn around. “Would you mind zipping me back up?” I ask, my gaze focused a little too heavily on my discarded boots laying haphazardly on the ground beside me.

“Of course,” he says, striding into me, but he makes it a point to keep a comfortable distance as he works the small zipper back up into place. I can’t help but wonder if he’s trying to reset the boundaries between us. He’s being way too respectful considering the fact he just bent me over and put vibrating balls in my cooch, but shit, let’s keep things professional. Why the hell not?

I suppose this is exactly what I asked for though. He said it was just sex, nothing more, and that’s exactly what I agreed to. I just didn’t realize it would make me feel so . . . ugly. Surely this means something to him. Don’t get me wrong, I know he’s never felt the way I do and never will, but I’m not some random stranger who wandered into his dark room, I’m me. His best friend’s little sister. Surely that meanssomething.

With my dress back in place, I grab my boots and lower myself into a chair, cringing at the dull ache deep in my core. I can only guess how that’ll feel come morning, but it’s a welcome ache that I’m sure I’ll learn to love. After pulling my boots on and zipping them up, I get back to my feet and try to figure out what the hell I did with my handbag.

Finding it by the door with the almost full cocktail I’d ordered when I first got here, I stride across the room before forcing myself to stop. I look back at Izaac, that same awkwardness still lingering in the air. “I, ummm. I’m gonna get out of here.”

He nods. “Did you want me to walk you out?” he asks, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s because he feels obliged to because I just had his dick in my mouth or because on some level, he still sees me as his best friend’s little sister he swore to always look out for.

Either way, I don’t like it.

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