Blue Persuasion (8 page)

“Why are you different with me?”

“I don’t want to want you.”

“Then don’t. It seems simple enough.” I talked as if unaffected but was really shaking and hoped he couldn’t tell in the dim light. I felt stupidly desperate for his touch.

He stepped closer to me, and I didn’t move. With his fingers, he brushed my auburn hair off my shoulder so it lay down my back. For once, he didn’t look at me and yet, I stared at his face. His lips parted slightly and his eyes darted around, finally alighting on my face. “Your upper lip is much smaller than your lower,” he whispered, tracing my lips with his finger.

I wanted him to let me in, but the idea scared the shit out of me too. Just this little bit of attention was too much. Too acute, too angst-filled with regret and yet, nothing had happened so far.

The sexual tension reached a fever pitch, leaving me barely able to breathe and then he stole my breath with a kiss. His hands clutched my upper arms, pulling me tightly against him, while his tongue breached my lips. His taste liquefied me, my body pooling against his, melting to the hard planes of his torso. Then he stopped, holding me away from him, his heat vanishing as quickly as it had arrived.

“Shit,” he muttered.

“You’re good at wooing the ladies, I can tell. A real charmer.” I shook out of his grip and climbed aboard the yacht, going down the steps to the belly of the ship. At the table, I sat down, watching Tate maneuver down the steps. Before he had a chance to say anything, I said, “I don’t do well with ambiguity and you’re clearly confused.”

He paced the few steps away from me and then back again. “I don’t do love or romance or relationships.”

“Again, why are you here and don’t give me the bullshit that I invited you.”

“I want you,” he confessed and for a second, I got a glimpse behind the veil.

“You mean you want to fuck me and yet, it’s not about my small waist or my gargantuan boobs?”

The door on his emotions quickly shut. Stoically he said, “They aren’t a deterrent but no, it’s not— I felt you the moment I stepped into Babes in Tattooland, before I ever laid eyes on you.”

“And?”

“I don’t want emotional entanglement.”

“Are you married?”

“No.”

“Divorced?”

“Yes, but that’s not open for discussion.”

“Kids?”

“Also, not up for discussion.”

“Got it. It’s time for you to leave. You’ve invaded my sacred space with my friends, and I can’t let you have it. They’re all I’ve got.”

“You’re already involved anyway. How do the rest of them not know?”

“How do you know?”

“Bond didn’t act like a friend but a protective lover. I was here long enough to get the gist of the dynamics. Jacqs is with Red and Bond. Maybe more Red than Bond. Kevin and Cat are like an old married couple. He’s far more in love with her than she is with him, and Stay and Lainie are still in the honeymoon phase. Other than Sam, you are the only one not exactly coupled, if I’m correct. Bond’s the only one who didn’t take to me. Why do you think that is?”

“Not the only one.”

“Fair enough.”

“Maybe he can tell that you’ll eat me up and spit me out. If you think it’s jealousy, you’re wrong. We love each other, but not like that. At least, he doesn’t. If strictly sex is what you’re after, I’m a master at it. However, I highly doubt we’d be compatible in that arena.”

“Based on what?” He looked flabbergasted for three beats until he garnered control of his emotions again, like a steel door lowering over his features.

“Let’s just say my needs aren’t run of the mill.”

He grunted and adjusted himself in his pants. “Neither are mine.”

I caught a glimpse of why he might wear his pants baggy and it ran down his thigh.
Holy fuck! Maybe just once?
When I looked up, he had resumed his implacable stare.

“Walk me out?”

“Okay.”

He went up first and held his hand out to help me back onto the dock.

I waited while he said his goodbyes. I told Jacqs I would be taking off as well. Red welcomed him back anytime, and Stay said he would be in touch.

Once outside, I said, “I thought you told me you don’t ride much.”

“I was in the mood. Did you bring me some of your writing?”

“I did, but I don’t see how that matters now.”

“It matters. I’ll walk you to your car.”

I shrugged my shoulders and led the way. Of course, the driver’s side door gave me fits.

“Move,” he said and jerked the door open. “I have friends that can fix that for you.”

“It costs money, which I’d rather not spend.”

“So what do you do? Climb in through the passenger side?”

“Sometimes.”

“Do you know how exasperating you are?” He didn’t let me answer. Before I knew what happened, he’d sandwiched me between him and the side of my car. He pressed his cock against my mound, grinding it as he captured my mouth. Tasting him again, I lost all common sense. His tongue dipped into my mouth, exploring and tangling with mine. I wanted him in the worst possible way, willing to sacrifice my sense of self-preservation and self-worth.

“Follow me home,” I breathed against his lips.

“I can’t promise—”

“No promises. Wait, what are you doing?” I asked as he climbed into my car and set the pages and my license on the dashboard.

He took my hand and lay it against his thigh. “I can’t ride like this. Give me a few minutes.”

“Holy hell. Okay.” I took a couple of deep breaths and stared straight ahead, moving my hand to the steering wheel.

“Okay,” he said as he got out of my car. He leaned back in. “Do you have condoms?”

I shook my head, no.

“Drug store on the way? I’ll follow you.” He grabbed the chapter off the dash, tossed my license back on the seat, and closed the passenger door.

CHAPTER SIX

Broken

by Lauren Hoffman

“W
hat the fuck are you doing?” I said to myself in the rearview mirror. “Only the dumbest thing possible, I’m sure¸” I responded. Never one for a one-night stand, it seemed I was heading toward my very first.

Odd that he didn’t have a condom.

The loud engine of his motorcycle, revving beside me, garnered my attention. Damn, he looked hot as hell on his bike, even with a helmet on.

I drove down the road with Tate following behind, my body and mind arguing the entire time.

It’s just a fuck. We can do this.

It’s hard enough on you with Bond. Don’t be an idiot.

I’m not being an idiot. If anything, I’m being a horny woman.

At least Bond cares about you. This guy is emotionally constipated with some real issues. You’re being reckless.

It’s one night.

Your place is a mess. You’re letting his big cock scramble your head.

Shut up!

I slammed my palm against the steering wheel as I turned into Walgreens, determined to go through with it. Consequences be damned. It wasn’t like I liked the guy or my emotions were even in the mix. His cock seemed impressive, and I did want to see if he was a show-er or a grow-er, but that wasn’t why I was willing to risk my self-esteem in the balance.

His touch, his mere presence, sent all my wiring into a fit. No man had ever affected me in that way. Not even Bond. I wanted him in the worst possible way, and it seemed mutual.

Tate strolled out of the drug store with a brown paper bag and a six-pack of something. Placing both in his leather saddlebag, he then swung his leg over his bike and replaced his helmet. He nodded in my direction, his expression as serious as ever. Was he going to the dentist or to a fuck?

Don’t
, I said to myself. Instead of analyzing every moment leading up to the present, I turned up my stereo to drown out my thoughts. I belted out
Spectrum
with Florence, keeping time on the steering wheel. Flipping on the right turn signal, I turned into my apartment complex and parked in my designated spot as Tate settled his Harley by the side of the cinderblock building.

He followed me up the stairs to the third floor and invaded my apartment the moment he stepped through the threshold. “You live alone?”

“Yes,” I said, kicking off my flip-flops.

He scanned the small space, settling the bag and six-pack on the kitchen table.

My nerves flared out of control. I couldn’t figure out what to do with my hands, and all I could see was the dust lining the framed artwork and the small statues on the shelf. “Cayman Jack? You like margaritas?” I asked, noticing what he bought.

“Cat said it was your favorite drink.”

I narrowed my eyes and scrunched my nose.
He bothered to find that out?
In the kitchen, I found the church key and opened two bottles. After handing him one, we clinked the glass, and took a drink.

His penetrating stare lassoed mine, and I held my own. At least my hands now had something to do. I rolled the bottle between my palms and then laughed. He looked so damn serious.

“Is this painful for you?” I asked.

“No questions.” He took the bottle from my hands and placed it on the table. Behind me, he moved my hair away from my neck, causing chills to cascade down my spine. Just his touch mixed pleasure with pain as if his stern nature scratched at my soul as he awakened the rest of my body. His masculine scent filled my senses. He bit down where my neck met my shoulder, causing me to groan. He wove his hand into my hair, spiraling it around his forearm, gathering it into his fist. He exposed the front of my throat for his mouth, devouring each spot with his lips and teeth, marking me.

Trembling, I struggled to steady my pulse and remain standing. My knees turned into weak little ninnies.

Grabbing the hem, he pulled my pink tank top over my head and reached behind me to unhook the industrial sports bra I wore.

“Leave it,” I said, covering my chest, more especially my hard, straining nipples.

He glared down at me with his dark mahogany eyes.

“They’re too much.” I shook my head.

“Let me be the judge.”

Giving in, I lifted my arms so he could pull off my bra. “Be careful of my tattoo.”

Gently, he slipped off the garment as his eyes left mine to take in my mammoth boobs. “Stunning,” he whispered, the crevice in the middle of his forehead as deep as ever. Then his hands explored my naked back and pendulum breasts, and I let him. Everywhere he touched, the heat of his caress lingered. His gaze held me captive, dissolving my will and restraint. With my nipples clasped between his fingers, he pinched and tugged. “I want to hurt you,” he grunted.

“Ohhh. You will soon enough ... I imagine.” Maybe his comment should have scared me, but it didn’t. Instead, my hands managed to find a use. First, they became lost in his rich, brown hair, then progressed to his broad shoulders, and finally lit on the buttons of his pale-green shirt. His smooth, coppery skin and ripped stomach made me moan. After freeing the last button, my hands ran down his chest, brushing his nipples along the way. They followed the trail of hair and sexy V disappearing into his jeans. My fingers traced the bulge down his thigh.

He grabbed my wrist and groaned. “Not yet.” He scooped me up and kicked open the bedroom door, settling me at the end of the bed.

“I don’t do missionary.”

“Why?”

“No questions.”

He nodded. “Let’s see the rest of this playground,” he said, contending with the button on my shorts. I lifted my hips so he could remove them, and off came my panties as well. He pulled me to my feet, his hands invading every bit of my skin with the warmth of his big palms and soft lips. He nibbled up my neck until he mauled my mouth with his fierce kiss, pushing me back onto the bed.

His body came down on top of me, and I immediately struggled to get out from under him, punching his chest with my fists. He got the message and flipped me on top of him.

Beyond my control, my eyes filled with tears and I gasped. I buried my face against his shoulder so he wouldn’t see. Between my naked thighs, I unbuttoned his jeans, determined to get his cock inside me as fast as possible. He grabbed both wrists to stop me.

“What?” I called out.

“You’re crying.”

“Reflex reaction. I told you, no missionary.”

“I can do gentle.”

“Jesus, Tate, if I wanted gentle, you wouldn’t be here.”

“Do you do missionary with Bond?”

“What happened to no questions?”

“Just answer this one.”

“Okay, but then you’ll owe me one.”

I could see him thinking, searching for a way out of it. Maybe he decided it wouldn’t matter, since we never planned to see each other again. “Okay,” he finally said.

“No, not with Bond, not with anyone.”

“Just to be clear, is it any position where I’m over the top of you?”

“No. Just full body weight on the front of me.”

He flipped me over onto my back and dragged me to the bottom of the bed, grinding his jean-clad cock against my already sopping pussy. “So I can lean over you like this, my body weight on my arms?”

“Yes, but I’m certain it will feel much better once you take those jeans off.” I began unzipping them, but he stopped me again.

“How about like this?” He flipped me onto my stomach, raised my hips and covered my body fully with his. He swung his hips against me.

I reached back behind me and tugged at his pants.

As he bit my shoulder and chuckled, he moved his hips out of reach.

“Are you planning on hurting me in the form of abstinence?” I groaned and turned back over, taking in his expression.

Then he really laughed and a fissure split open, allowing a quick blast of sunshine to escape the dark clouds. Just as quickly, the sun hid back out of sight. “It’s been awhile.”

Apparently, a bit of information escaped through the crack. “Laughing?”

“No. I don’t think I’ll be able to hold out very long.”

I shrugged. “We’ll just have to do it a few times then.”

“Good thing I got the big box.”

“Go get them and let me see your tattoo,” I said with a chuckle of my own.

When he came back into the bedroom, I gaped. Sans jeans, his cock was more formidable than I imagined.

“Now I see how you will hurt me. I’m up for the challenge, or that is anyway.”

He threw the twelve-pack of magnum condoms on the bed. Apparently, he also had high hopes for the night.

Mesmerized by his appendage, I stepped forward and touched him. It flinched and grew at the contact. Stepping around him, I took in the finished tattoo of the golden eagle across his back and down his left butt cheek and thigh. “Wow, it’s remarkable. Does it hurt?”

“No, I’m a fast healer.”

Walking back around, I noticed another tattoo under his right arm, but I couldn’t make it out. “What’s that?”

He just shook his head.

“Okay.” In that moment, I assumed it had something to do with his ex. I glanced up at Tate while he looked down at me. “I know my question.”

He appeared pained, but he nodded.

“How long has it been?”

He shrugged. “Over three years.”

Over three years?

Over three years?

Over three years. Wow!
I held out my arms to him.

He scooped me onto his lap as he sat on the edge of the bed. Holding either side of my face, he kissed me deeply, searching my mouth with his tongue. He swallowed my sigh, as I dissolved against him, his taste muddling my mind. His hands possessed me, touching my neck, shoulders, and then my back. Grasping my ass, he pulled my wetness against him, rubbing it along his shaft.

“Does this actually fit into anyone?” I whispered against his neck and pointed down.

The corners of his lips rose just slightly. “Yes, Blue.” He had used my nickname, but I didn’t correct him. From behind him, he retrieved a condom as I scooted down his legs so he could roll it on. Lifting me by my hips, he helped lower me down onto him as his eyes locked onto mine. “Take your time,” he sighed.

“Good thing I’m wet.”

“Very wet.”

“Very wet, oh yeah,” I groaned as I tried to force more of him into me.

“Wait.”

I held off, our eyes remaining connected. He bit his lower lip in his struggle. “Okay,” he muttered after a few moments. When I forced myself down on him, he thrust up to meet me, filling me more than I’d yet experienced. We rocked back and forth, the pain and pleasure of his size weaving a delicious concoction.

“Holy shit! Oh yeah, take me. Don’t stop.”

“I need a minute.” He held me tightly against him, but I still tried to wiggle my hips. He lifted me off his cock and laid me on my back, my legs hanging off the end of the bed.

I covered my mound, knowing my clit must be sticking out.

On his knees, between my legs, he asked, “What are you doing?”

“My clit pokes out too much.”

He pulled my hands away and held them at my sides, breathing across my clit. “Who gave you that idea? Bond?” he asked, the anger in his voice very evident.

“No. He would never.”

Breaking eye contact, his mouth lapped at my wetness, exploring the valleys between my folds until he found my bulbous peak. “It’s perfect,” he murmured against my clit. “You’re perfect.”

I decided to store that compliment for later.

I’m perfect.

“Oh, that feels amazing,” I cried.

“Tastes so good.” He let go of my wrists and let his hands wander again, branding every surface of my skin: my breasts, nipples, stomach and finally, my pussy. He played with my labia, tugging my lips as his tongue danced against my arousal.

My back arched when he plunged two fingers into my entrance and increased the pressure on my clit. “Oh Tate, I’m close, please don’t stop.”

“No way,” he mumbled.

With his free hand, he smoothed over my hip, pulling me tighter against his mouth. His large fingers plunged deep inside me while his warm, wet mouth flicked me over the edge.

“Unholy god, please, oh yesss. Now!” Unable to hold back, I gushed against his mouth. I could hear him gulping and laughing until my orgasm fired again, and all sensation ceased except for the rocket that tore through my body and set flight. I hovered outside of myself until his warm hands brought me back to my body.

“That was incredible. I’ve never been with a squirter before.”

“I should have warned you. When I’m really turned on, I lose control over the waterworks.”

“No apology necessary. Nor will I apologize for what I’m about to do.” He turned me over and raised my ass into the air. I cried out when he plunged in deep, his chest hovering over my back. My right cheek lay against the mattress, my arms at my side, until he lifted them behind me and used them for leverage.