Samantha ate breakfast and washed the dishes, her mind preoccupied with Clay, who’d been gone before she’d woken up this morning. She’d thought what had happened in his office last night had been more than just sex, and she couldn’t help but feel disappointed at being alone again.
She had truly thought that things had changed between them. That he’d quit trying to avoid her. But she’d noticed a distinct shift in Clay’s mood after his brother Levi had left. He’d seemed angry about something, and even when she’d had a moment from her busy tables to ask him if everything was okay, he’d given her an abrupt “I’m fine” that had told her he was far from okay but whatever was bothering him wasn’t up for discussion.
So, last night she’d given him space, even though she hated the distance he’d created between them. After the bar had closed and she and the other employees were done with their light cleanup, she’d realized that Clay was in his office—with the door closed—which was equivalent to a loud stay away from me sign posted on the frame. Tara confirmed that she’d heard Clay and Levi arguing, and while Samantha wanted Clay to know he could talk to her if he needed a listening, non-judgmental ear¸ she instinctively knew that he wasn’t the kind of man to discuss personal issues or one to dissect his feelings with a woman. No, Clay was controlled and guarded, emotionally and physically. He was always there for other people and his employees, listening and caring about their problems, but in the short time Samantha had known him, it was apparent that Clay wasn’t comfortable when it came to opening up to others, and especially her.
It was incredibly frustrating, considering she wanted to know so much more about Clay Kincaid. He’d given her little tidbits of his past, just enough for her to know his childhood hadn’t been ideal. Unfortunately, he was excellent at deflecting any attempt she made to dig a little deeper in hopes of learning what experiences had molded him into the man he was today—one who was generous and reliable and decent, yet so emotionally guarded.
Last night, she’d come upstairs and had taken a shower, intending to wait up until Clay finally came up to the apartment. But the moment her tired body had sunk into his soft mattress and her head had hit the pillow, she’d been out. And by the time she’d gotten up this morning, he was already gone.
It felt as though they were back to square one, and Samantha refused to let Clay retreat from them, from her, after finally making progress with him yesterday afternoon.
She’d just finished drying the last dish when someone knocked on the door that led out of the apartment to the side lot, where deliveries to the bar were made, and where the employees parked their vehicles. She figured whoever was there, it had to be for Clay, but since he wasn’t around, she headed for the door.
She looked through the peephole and saw Katrina standing on the other side. Samantha unlocked and opened the door, happy to see someone she already considered a friend.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” Samantha asked curiously, her gaze taking in the other woman’s outfit. She experienced a moment of envy at the way Katrina could pull off wearing a dark brown suede top that laced together in the front and made her look tough and sexy at the same time. The tight fit pushed up her breasts and made them look amazing. She had on a matching miniskirt and cute beige suede ankle boots with a nice-sized heel.
“I have a delivery for you,” Katrina said, flashing a smile.
“Me?” Samantha laughed, now even more confused. “I don’t remember ordering anything.”
“You didn’t. Clay did.” Katrina shook her head and waved her hand in the air, making those colorful butterflies inked on her arm appear as if they were taking flight. “Or rather, Clay told me what he wanted to do, and I did the ordering because there is no way he could have pulled this off on his own,” she said, looking very pleased with herself.
Samantha had absolutely no idea what Katrina was talking about, but she was definitely intrigued. She followed the other woman’s pointing gesture down to the parking lot, where two young, muscular men stood next to a small, nondescript delivery truck, waiting.
“Bring it all up here, boys!” Katrina called out.
For the next fifteen minutes, Samantha stood in the living room with Katrina while the guys brought up delivery after delivery of boxes and large-handled bags from Williams-Sonoma—a high-end store that sold the best of kitchen equipment and small appliances, professional bakeware, and specialty items. She was so stunned she was speechless. When one of the men carried in a big box with a picture of an industrial-grade stand mixer on the side, Samantha’s jaw nearly dropped to the floor as understanding finally dawned.
“Oh, my God,” she breathed, both shocked and elated by what Clay had done. He’d taken her dream of being a pastry chef and was helping to make it a reality.
“He bought all this stuff for me to use to bake, didn’t he?” she asked incredulously.
“Yep,” Katrina confirmed. “I wasn’t sure what, exactly, you would need, so I asked a consultant at the store to put together everything a new pastry chef would need to have in her kitchen, including all the ingredients you might need to do the baking,” she said, sounding as excited as Samantha felt. “You should be well equipped since I pretty much cleared out the baking aisle at the grocery store.”
By the time the delivery guys had unloaded everything, the entire kitchen was filled with bags and boxes, and Samantha couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed on a multitude of levels. “It’s too much.” She pressed her hands to her warm cheeks when she thought about how much Clay had spent on her. A surge of guilt wasn’t far behind. “All this had to have cost him a small fortune.”
“Meh,” Katrina said with a shrug, as if money wasn’t an issue. “Clay didn’t hesitate when I told him how much everything was.”
He truly hadn’t spared any expense on her aspirations, and even without words, he was letting her know that he believed in her, when her parents never had and never would. He had no idea how much his generosity meant to her, or how much his confidence in her abilities boosted her own determination to make her dreams a reality. She didn’t want to let herself down, but more importantly, she didn’t want to let him down.
An emotional lump formed in Samantha’s throat, and tears pricked the backs of her eyes. All her life, she’d received ridiculously expensive presents—opulent jewelry, extravagant cars and trips, luxurious designer clothes and accessories—but she’d never been given a gift that was so personal and heartfelt. So thoughtful and meaningful. Even with her parents knowing how much she loved to bake and how badly she wanted to pursue being a pastry chef, not once had they ever encouraged her, let alone given her something to acknowledge her passion.
In that moment, Samantha felt that first flutter of sensation in her heart that told her she was on her way to falling in love with Clay Kincaid. She ought to provide herself with a stern lecture about this thing with Clay being just an affair, a warning about guarding her heart or else she’d get hurt. But as she stared at the abundance of items beckoning to her in the fully stocked kitchen in Clay’s apartment, she couldn’t find the words, or the will to ignore the feelings growing inside her. And she no longer wanted to, she realized.
She glanced at Katrina, who’d been watching her reaction the entire time. “I need to go thank him.”
Before she could head downstairs to the bar, Katrina placed a hand on her arm. “Tell you what. How about you start going through the bags and boxes to unpack and see everything you have, and I’ll go and get Clay.”
Like a little kid at Christmas, Samantha couldn’t deny that she was dying to check out the goods. “Okay,” she said, and the first thing she did was unpack the beautiful industrial-grade stand mixer in her favorite color—bright pink.
* * *
Katrina found Clay in the storeroom, where he was busy going through his liquor inventory. With an anxious sensation in his stomach, he watched her sashay toward him, her mischievous green eyes sparkling like emeralds.
Clay knew why Katrina was here. She’d texted him almost a half an hour ago to let him know that she’d arrived with the delivery truck and unloading was about to commence. Considering it had been his idea to supply Samantha with everything she needed to bake her desserts, he knew Katrina had expected him to be there when everything arrived.
He’d seriously thought about it, but he’d felt a little off this morning after last night’s chat with Levi. Okay, that was an understatement. He’d been moody and angry and not at all happy that his brother had poked and prodded and brought up emotions he worked hard to keep buried. Levi had pissed him off, and his nasty mood was the last thing he wanted to subject Samantha to—or have to explain.
So when he’d woken up this morning still feeling on edge, he’d decided to head to the gym for a hard workout, which had helped burn off some steam. He’d showered and changed at the fitness center, and by the time he’d returned to the bar, his annoyance toward his brother had abated, but then he’d realized that he was suddenly unsure of his impulsive decision to buy what amounted to a pastry kitchen for Samantha. He was worried about her reaction to his gifts. What if she thought it was stupid? What if she didn’t appreciate him butting into her business? What if she took the gesture for more than what it was, especially after yesterday afternoon?
And when the fuck had he become so concerned about making a woman happy?
Katrina crossed her arms over her chest and pinned him with a discerning look. “I texted you half an hour ago. I expected you to come upstairs and see what your thousands of dollars bought
for Samantha.”
He shrugged casually and set his clipboard on a shelf. “I got distracted with inventory.”
She had the grace not to call him out on his lie. Instead, she smiled and said, “I have to say, you certainly know the way to this woman’s heart.”
“She liked everything?” he asked, trying like hell not to sound like an infatuated teenager who wanted to impress the girl he was crushing on. Jesus, he was so pathetic.
Katrina rolled her eyes and shifted on her ridiculously high heels. “You’re kidding me, right? I don’t think I’ve ever seen a woman so thrilled to get kitchen appliances as a gift from a man. Most of us girls prefer diamonds or a pair of Louboutins, but I’m coming to realize that Samantha is unique.”
Relieved by Katrina’s reassurance, he laughed, and the sound finally released the tension he’d been carrying since his brother’s visit. Yes, she was unique, considering the comfortable, wealthy, want-for-nothing life she’d walked away from, and that was one of the things he found so attractive about her. She was so unassuming, so gracious. So unique.
“I had fun surprising Samantha, but I need to get back to Inked before your brother starts blowing up my phone with texts demanding to know where I am,” Katrina said with a put-out sigh. “I didn’t tell him I was running errands for you.”
“You didn’t?” he asked, surprised to hear that. “Why not?”
Her chin jutted out stubbornly. “Because it’s none of his fucking business, and I’m done being at his beck and call.”
Katrina’s defiant attitude had Clay biting back a smile. As the manager of Inked, Katrina had been putting up with Mason’s bullshit for a few years now, but it appeared she was finally fed up with his brother taking advantage of her and their friendship. He had a feeling that Mason had no clue that there was a brewing storm heading his way.
Not wanting to get into the middle of that skirmish, he changed the subject. “Thanks for everything,” he said, sincerely grateful for her assistance since he didn’t know jack about baking. “I couldn’t have pulled this off without your help.”
“It was my pleasure. I’m going to head out, but Samantha is waiting for you upstairs, so go and enjoy her excitement.” Katrina walked toward the storeroom door but turned around before exiting and met his gaze. “And just for the record, I really like her. A lot.”
“I do, too,” he replied automatically. Way too much.
Once Katrina was gone, Clay made his way up to the apartment and quietly slipped inside. Samantha was in the kitchen, and there was so much stuff on the counters that it boggled his mind. Currently, she was testing out a mixer in a bright pink color that suited her personality. She turned it on, and as an electronic whirring sound filled the space, she bounced on the balls of her bare feet enthusiastically and let out a giddy laugh that made him grin.
He took a moment to just watch her as she oohed and aahed over different bakeware and appliances that seemed to impress her. Her hair was in a ponytail, and she was wearing a white tank top and a pair of faded jean shorts that molded to that perfect ass he’d had the enjoyment of caressing yesterday afternoon while taking her from behind. The hot memory made his cock twitch—no shock there—and he redirected his dirty thoughts before they escalated even further. As much as he wanted Samantha, this moment was about her and not his unruly dick.
He leaned against the nearby wall, shoved the tips of his fingers into his jean pockets, and cleared his throat, making his presence known. “Does everything meet with your approval?” he asked.
She spun around, her eyes wide with elation. Her undisguised gratitude was like a warm ray of sunshine on his soul, and the happiness etching her beautiful features made every penny he’d spent well worth her delighted reaction. And when she looked at him as if he’d given her the moon and stars, he wanted to give her more. Hell, he wanted to give her everything.
“I can’t believe you did all this,” she said, her voice filled with wonder and a wealth of appreciation.
He shrugged, trying to remain nonchalant. “If you want to be a pastry chef, then you need to bake. I just supplied you with the means to make that happen.” But they both knew the gesture was much more than that.
She closed the distance between them, stopping so close that he could see the affection for him in her eyes, along with a tenderness that nearly slayed him. Nobody had ever looked at him that way before.
“Thank you, Clay,” she said, her voice thick with an emotion that made his heart beat hard and fast in his chest. “I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him, and something inside of him cracked open and shifted. As a kid, he’d grown up without physical affection, had never been hugged by his own mother. As an adult, he didn’t cuddle with women and avoided any kind of lingering embrace because it felt awkward to him. But this…the feel of Samantha’s body pressing against him was so intimate, the connection between them so honest and real…and he liked it.
And it had nothing to do with sex. Forcing his stiff body to relax, he tentatively circled his arms around her waist, pulling her closer and holding her tight against him. She was so soft and warm, and he closed his eyes, inhaling the scent of her skin and savoring the moment that was very much a first for him.
She pulled back, and he reluctantly let her go, though she only took a single step back. Her hands slid down to his chest, and she kept them there, her face tipped up to his.
“I will pay you back for everything,” she promised, suddenly much too serious. “Every single cent. I swear it.”
“It’s a gift, Cupcake,” he said, and gave in to the urge to run the back of his fingers along the smooth, soft skin of her cheek. “You don’t repay something that is given to you.”
“I can’t just take all of this.” She shook her head. “The money—”
“Isn’t an issue,” he said, cutting her off. And it truly wasn’t, but he could see the doubts in her eyes, so he tried for a compromise of sorts. “Tell you what, how about you repay me by baking your favorite dessert?”
Her eyes lit up at the suggestion, the excitement back on her face. “My favorite dessert isn’t anything fancy or extravagant,” she warned him. “Are you sure you don’t want me to make you something fancier, like a chocolate profiterole or an éclair?”
He laughed. “Do I look like a guy who dines on fancy éclairs and whatever that other thing is called? I want your favorite dessert.”
“Okay,” she agreed, bouncing once again on her feet, as if she could barely contain her renewed enthusiasm. “Will you stay up here and keep me company?”
He couldn’t refuse her. Didn’t want to, anyway. “Sure.”
He sat down on one of the dining chairs facing the kitchen, content to watch Samantha in her element. Now that he’d given her something specific to do, she was focused on creating. She went through the bags, pulling out more items she needed and setting them on the counter, and even went to the refrigerator to retrieve a fresh lemon. That was his only hint as to what she was making. With her back to him, he couldn’t see what she was mixing together, all of which she was doing without a recipe and completely by memory.
Fifteen minutes later, he caught a glimpse of a tray going into the oven, and she continued to move about the kitchen, sorting through the grocery sacks for other items while keeping that pink mixer on and churning ingredients. She was so intent on her work that he didn’t disturb her with conversation. It was enough for him to see how much she loved baking, and he didn’t want to break her concentration.
Xena came sauntering out of the bedroom and jumped onto his lap, and he turned his attention to the cat, who was rubbing against his chest and demanding her fair share of attention. He smoothed his hand along her spine, and she began to purr. He continued to pet her until she’d had enough and jumped back down to graze on the cat food in her bowl.
Before long, Samantha took the tray out of the oven, and the scent of something sweet
and lemony permeated the air. She deliberately blocked his view of whatever else she was doing, so he pulled out his cell phone and checked to make sure he didn’t have any important calls or messages. He answered a few emails and played a couple of games of Tetris, not realizing just how much time he’d killed until Samantha finally spoke.
“Okay, here it is. My very favorite dessert.”
He shut down the game and glanced up as Samantha walked toward him holding a plate. He couldn’t help but grin when he finally got a glimpse of what she’d been creating.
“A cupcake?” he asked incredulously, the irony of that not lost on him.
“Not just any cupcake,” she assured him with a bit of sass as she came to a stop next to his chair. She lowered the dish so he could look at a very fancy-looking sweet treat. “This here is a lemon cupcake, with an amazing lemon cream curd inside and melt-in-your-mouth lemon buttercream frosting swirled on top. I can guarantee that this is the best thing you will ever put in your mouth.”
He shook his head, treating her to a wicked-sounding chuckle as he cast his eyes up to hers. “Maybe the second, third, or fourth best thing,” he corrected as he skimmed his fingers up the inside of her smooth thigh. “But definitely not the best thing I’ve ever tasted or put into my mouth,” he said, pressing his fingertips against the seam of her jean shorts, his insinuation clear.
She sucked in a breath but did nothing to stop the pressure and friction of his fingers rubbing slowly but firmly between her legs.
“You’re so bad,” she said, her husky voice matching the desire flaring bright in her blue eyes.
“I can be even naughtier,” he assured her, his cock swelling in response to the sexy game they were playing, along with the way her nipples poked against the cotton tank top she was wearing, silently imploring him to lick and bite. “Would you like me to tell you what those other things are that taste as sweet as candy?”
“No.” She licked her lips, her lashes falling half-mast. “I want you to eat my cupcake.”
The small, playful smile canting the corners of her mouth told him that she’d chosen her words deliberately, in reference to the nickname he’d given her.
“I’ve already had a taste of the best cupcake I’m ever going to have,” he assured her. “But if you sit on my lap, I’ll try this lemon one.”
“Thank you for indulging me,” she teased, even though they both knew that, before they were done, he’d be sampling more than just her baked treat.
She set the plate on the table, and instead of sitting across his lap, she brazenly straddled his hips, her ass settled on his thighs. They were sitting face-to-face, the crotch of her shorts aligned with the stiff erection straining against the fly of his jeans. She rocked subtly against his aching dick, and he groaned deep in his throat, a hot surge of need twisting through him.
He grabbed her hips before she could do it again. “You’d better feed me a bite of that cupcake before I change my mind and eat you instead,” he said gruffly.
She shivered at his sexy threat, but she obviously really wanted him to try her dessert, because she behaved. Picking up the fork that was resting on the plate, she used the tines to cut out a portion of the confection so that he could taste everything at once—the cake, the filling, and the frosting—and fed him the sample.
As soon as the tart and sweet lemony flavors hit his taste buds, a moan of appreciation rose in his throat. By far, the cupcake was the best dessert he’d ever had, and he was impressed by her baking skills. The cake itself was moist, the filling like lemon silk, and the frosting did melt in his mouth.
The cupcake on the plate, decorated with frosting that looked like a delicate swirl of ribbons and lace, was as professional looking as…the one he’d seen looking through the bakery window in town when he’d been a young boy. The long-ago memory popped into his head.
“When I was a kid…” He blinked, hearing his voice and realizing what he’d been about to reveal. He stopped short, cutting off the words and the memory.
She tipped her head, looking at him curiously. “When you were a kid, what?” she prompted.
He shook his head. “Nothing.”
“It was obviously something,” she persisted. “What happened when you were a kid? Were you not allowed to have cupcakes?” she asked, her gaze holding his hostage.
It was a good guess on her part, based on what she knew about his childhood, which wasn’t much. But it was obviously enough for her to come to that conclusion. He seriously thought about deflecting the conversation, but the soft, compassionate look in her eyes compelled him to share something he’d rather not even think about.
“When I was a kid, for the longest time I didn’t know what cupcakes were,” he said, not surprised to see her eyes widen in shock.
“How…how is that even possible?” She frowned in disbelief.
He exhaled a deep breath and finished what he’d started. “My brothers and I never had a birthday party, and the school I went to didn’t allow outside food, not even on special occasions. We didn’t have a TV, and we got our groceries from a local food bank that just provided the basics.”
It was the most profound glimpse he’d given anyone into his past, and because it was Samantha, it felt good to share something so difficult, yet painful at the same time.
“Oh, Clay…” She placed her hands gently on either side of his face. That same tenderness he’d seen earlier was back in her gaze, this time laced with compassion, and it drew him in and tugged on emotions he usually kept locked down tight.
He swallowed hard and forced himself to continue. “The first time I saw cupcakes was when I was walking home from school. I was about seven years old, and I passed by this upscale bakery in town. I looked in the window and saw these little cakes that looked so good I couldn’t stop staring. I was so hungry, and I wanted one so badly, but as soon as the woman inside saw me outside her shop, she came out and literally chased me away.”
A flash of sadness followed by anger sparked in her eyes. “Why would she do that to a little boy?”
He knew exactly why, and since he’d already come this far, he answered her question honestly. “Because the people in town knew me as a low-life Kincaid. The bastard child of a crack whore. And having a poor, dirty kid standing outside of their store wasn’t good for business.”
She gave him a heartbroken look as her thumbs stroked along his jaw, her touch gentle and oddly comforting. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered.
He shrugged, pretending it no longer mattered. “It was a long time ago.”
She clearly wanted to say something more, but she smiled impishly at him instead, and he was grateful that she let it go.
“I will make you as many cupcakes as you like,” she said, his heart melting a little at her sincere promise. “Anytime you want.” And the serious mood that had settled between them dissipated in an instant.
He laughed, appreciating her lighthearted comment, and he let the past memories go in favor of more decadent, imminent pleasures. “You are the only cupcake I need,” he told her as he promptly stripped off her tank top, then unhooked her bra and dropped it to the floor, baring her gorgeous breasts to his gaze, his hands, his mouth. “But I do think you need a little frosting.”
His little vixen nodded eagerly. “Yes, I think so, too,” she agreed as she shifted restlessly on his thighs, once again massaging his thickening cock against her denim-clad sex.
Grinning at how impatient she already was, he dipped his finger into the froth of lemon-flavored icing and dabbed a generous amount on both of her tight nipples. Her lips parted on a gasp, which then turned into a sweet, sweet moan of need when he pushed her full breasts up with his hands and set out to clean up the mess he’d made.
He flicked his tongue across each taut bead of flesh and used his teeth to scrape across those delectably perky nipples that tasted like spun sugar laced with a touch of lemon extract. Yum. He opened his mouth wider, taking her breast deeper while sucking and licking off the last bit of the tasty treat.
She exhaled on a soft moan of pleasure and slid her fingers through his hair. Her head fell back, and her spine arched for more of his mouth as she brazenly rode his stiff cock through their jeans, grinding against him in a mindless, lust-induced fog.
Heat, sharp and demanding, slammed through him. Jesus Christ, if she didn’t stop her erotic lap dance, he was going to come in his jeans like a horny teenager who had no self-control. But that’s what Samantha did to him. She stripped away all his restraint, made him wild and desperate to be so deep inside her she’d never forget he was there. That she was his.
No matter how unrealistic, that possessive thought drove him, along with the pounding, pulsing need to feel her body tighten around his cock and milk him dry. Until he realized he had no protection on him.
He pulled his mouth from her swollen nipple and swore, the sound harsh and frustrated. “I need to get a condom.”
Shit, talk about a buzzkill, but there was no way he’d take any kind of risk with her.
She slowly lifted her lids, her heavy lashes shadowing her eyes, but there was no mistaking the beguiling smile curving her pink lips. “Actually, I have one in the front pocket of my shorts.”
He blinked at her, surprised by her unexpected announcement. “You do?”
She giggled, the sound adorably playful and naughty as she pulled out a foil wrapper and gave it to him. “I found a box of condoms in your bathroom drawer, and I wanted to be prepared when this happened again.”
He was both grateful and relieved at her foresight. The fact that she was so sure they’d have sex again that she’d kept a condom on her at all times so it wouldn’t be an issue made him harder than he already was.
He guided her off his lap so that she was standing in front of him. Looking up at her, he unsnapped her shorts, unzipped them, and let them drop to the ground. “You’re such a naughty, dirty girl,” he teased.
“With you, I am,” she admitted, and to prove her point, without an ounce of modesty, she pushed her panties down her legs and kicked them off, too, leaving her completely naked to his gaze.
Goddamn, she was gorgeous. Her body so sleek yet curvy in all the right places. So sensual and sexy he knew he’d never get enough of her, no matter how many times he fucked her.
“Sit down on the table,” he ordered as he pulled his T-shirt over his head, then nearly ripped open the front of his jeans so that he could sheathe his cock and be ready to drive into her. Just as soon as he sampled her dessert in one more place.
“Lean back and spread your legs, Cupcake,” he demanded, dying to get a taste of her once again. “I haven’t had my fill of this delicious frosting yet.”
She did as he asked, parting her thighs wide and opening herself up to him completely. Her pussy was so plump and wet, and the glistening folds separated to reveal that pearl of flesh nestled at the hood of her sex. He raked his gaze up the length of her body until he reached her face. She was biting her lower lip, and the flush sweeping across her cheeks had nothing to do with being shy. No, the pink tinge, and the escalating rise and fall of her breasts, was pure anticipation.
He wasn’t going to disappoint. He dragged his thumb through the frosting, then smeared the creamy substance across her clit and down her slit so he’d have every excuse to slide his tongue in every single crevice to clean it all up. When he reached the wettest part of her, her hips jerked against his hand and her breath hitched in her throat. Undeterred, he pushed two thick fingers all the way inside of her and used his thumb to swipe across her sticky clit once again.
“Clay…” Her voice rasped with burning, escalating need.
He understood that hunger, because it was pulsing through his veins and racing straight to his cock. Done waiting, done teasing, he bent down and buried his mouth between her thighs and devoured his cupcake. His swirling tongue lapped up all traces of the frosting as he pumped his fingers in and out of her passage, and when he sucked on her sensitive clit, she cried out and grabbed a handful of his hair—not to pull his mouth closer, but to yank his head away.
He looked up at her, not sure why she stopped him when he knew she’d been a few well-placed licks away from an orgasm.
“I need you inside of me, Clay,” she said huskily. “Now. Please.”
The demanding passion in her gaze—in her words—fueled his own lust, and he suddenly couldn’t wait to get balls deep inside of her. He shoved his jeans a bit lower on his thighs so they were out of the way without him having to take the time to strip them off. “Get off the table and turn around.” The order came out more forceful than he’d planned, but she had a way of bringing out the aggressive, more dominant edge in him.
She shook her head and remained right where she was, in the same spread-open position, too. “No.”
“No?” He didn’t know whether to grin at her impudence or turn her around so he could smack her ass for being insubordinate.
“No,” she reiterated, then blew his fucking mind with her next brazen request. “I want you to take me like this. This time, I want to watch you…”
“Watch me do what?” he prompted, wanting to hear her say those filthy words.
She licked her bottom lip and gave him what he was waiting for. “I want to watch you fuck me,” she said, her voice soft as a caress to his aching cock. “And I want to watch you as you come.”
Jesus, he thought, and couldn’t deny that he wanted to stare into those sultry blue eyes as she climaxed, too. He lined up the tip of his shaft against her slick entrance, then grabbed her hips to keep her securely in place as he drove into the softest, hottest, most addicting pussy he’d ever had.
He could feel her tight body clasp every inch of him as he pushed deeper, deeper. Oh, fuck, so deep he was completely and utterly lost in her. Physically, yes, but it was also the ferocious need he felt for this woman alone that made his pleasure so damn intense he shook with the restraint it took not to take her like a man possessed.
Her breath shuddered as he filled her up, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, bracing him as he started to thrust in and out. He moved slowly enough that they were both able to watch her body swallow his thick shaft, then he withdrew until just the tip of his erection was inside of her, then pushed forward once again.
He took a moment to appreciate the sexy slope of her lush, full breasts and tight, suckable nipples—and the way her naked tits bounced every time he shoved back into her. She looked so fucking hot naked, and the whole visual aspect of their position made it all the more erotic.
It also sorely tested his self-control and made his hips instinctively rock faster and harder against her as his orgasm sizzled to the surface. At this rate, he knew he wasn’t going to last long, and he wanted her with him when he climaxed.
“Touch yourself,” he said gruffly, unable to move his hands from her hips. “I’m already so damn close. Make yourself come for me.”
She didn’t hesitate to put her fingers on her clit, another seductive visual that sent a surge of lust pulsing through him. Moaning softly, she circled and rubbed that taut nub of flesh, and his release beckoned like the devil.
“Come, Samantha,” he growled as he kept up the maddening pace of his thrusts while trying desperately to stave off the searing heat gathering low in his belly and weakening his resolve. “Now.”
Her eyes glazed over with desire yet remained steady on his face. “Not until you do first,” she said huskily, as those slender fingers continued to stroke over her slick flesh. “I want to watch you.”
An unbelievable gasp of laughter escaped him at her shameless challenge. She was fucking killing him, in the very best way, and if she wanted to see how wild she made him, then he wasn’t going to hold back, trusting that she wouldn’t be far behind him.
Breathing hard and clenching his jaw, Clay kept his eyes locked on hers as he pumped into her rhythmically, harder and faster, again and again, until the tight, red-hot friction clasping his cock was more than he could resist.
Come on, come on, come on, he silently chanted, no longer able to wait for her as his stomach muscles tensed and his release ripped through him. A harsh groan rumbled in his chest as he bucked uncontrollably against her, sensation after sensation battering him like a sledgehammer.
And just when he thought it couldn’t get any more mind-blowing, her body shook with her own orgasm, and her inner walls gripped him insanely tight, rippling and squeezing every last ounce of pleasure out of his cock until he had nothing left to give.
