Caught Up In You (Edgeplay Part 2) (9 page)

“Yes,” I repeat the word over and over as he eases me down onto the couch, until my face is pressed against the cushions and my backside is in the air. The sound of a sipper sliding down along with the sweat evaporating off my skin makes me shiver. A wrapper rustles and the couch dips as Connor climbs over me.

His hands slide down my back in a sensual caress and I feel the tip of his cock as it prods against my wet core. The position leaves me so open to him. So vulnerable, with all of my sensitive bits exposed. If not for my recent orgasm, I doubt I could accept it.

Gripping his shaft, he works it against my blood engorged tissues, wetting himself in my lube and teasing me until I squirm against him. His voice is rough and ragged. “Tell me what you want, Baily.”

“I want you inside of me,” I whisper and he groans as he sinks deeply inside of me in one, strong, smooth glide.

I gasp, because the angle hits every hotspot inside of me. He retreats just as slowly before lunging down again, burying that long shaft in my melting core. His body blankets over the top of mine and he cloaks me with his heat. Several more of his tortuously slow strokes, stretch me, fill me, makes me yearn for more. Reaching between my thighs, I work my clit with the heel of my palm and rest my fingers against the base of his cock. Something about touching there, where we are joined, and feeling him move in and out of my body strikes me as deliciously intimate.

“Mine,” Connor growls. Here in the throes of passion with all the masks ripped away, I recognize him, that part of me knows the bits of him which transcend titles or faces, because it’s older, stronger, more instinctive. Everything outside of us ceases to exist as he tunnels into me with increasing force.

I gasp as he bodily lifts me, with his cock still buried deeply in my clenching sex, and sits me on his lap, facing away from him. I’ve never swooned in my life, but his demonstration of strength has me pretty damn close.

“Ride me,” He buries his face in my hair, hands on my hips to hold me in place.

The position is awkward at first, with only my toes on the floor and nothing to grip and steady myself. With Connor guiding me, I slowly rise up, until only the blunt head of his cock is still inside me, then push back down, taking him as deep as I can go.

“Yes, just like that.” One of his hands snakes down to my spread sex. I gasp as he catches my clit between his index and ring finger and taps on the taut bud lightly.

My confidence grows and I move faster, so my breasts bounce every time I slam down onto him. Each second stretches out into an eternity. The scent of sex cocoons us in our own little world.

 I sink my fingernails into his muscular thighs and he bucks up beneath me, slamming home hard. A few more thrusts like that and I’m done for, coming in a wet rush, coating him with my slick release.

Connor withdraws and my body sags, limply, slick from sweat and sex. He pushes me onto my back on the couch, spreading my thighs wide and cupping my ass in his big palms. Our eyes lock as he lunges forward, slamming home. “Wrap your legs around my waist.”

It’s an effort, but I manage to do as he bids. Connor grunts once in satisfaction, then bucks his hips, shoving his cock forward until the blunt head batters the mouth of my womb. His thrusts are punishing, and exactly what I need from him now.

Sweat beads on his upper lip, slides down his neck and rolls over muscular chest as he works his body into mine. His crisp pubic hairs abrade my swollen clit.

Our eyes lock and I shake my head, unable to form the words to tell him I can’t do it again.

“Once more.” His jaw clenches. “Give me one more.”

“Connor,” I pant, trembling all over.

“Give it to me!” he snarls and the command alone does the impossible, explodes the tightened coil within me. My vision actually tunnels and I’m afraid I’ll pass out as my sex clenches on his, begging for him to follow me down.

He roars with triumph, his head thrown back in a primal howl as he empties himself into the condom. He’s beautiful in that moment, the arch of his body, the sweat-slicked muscles. I am in total awe of him.

He slumps over me, totally spent. Though my arms feel like cooked noodles, I find the strength to wrap them around him and hold him close to me. I never want to let him go.

“Baily,” he murmurs softly, with something akin to wonder in his voice. “I didn’t know it could be like that.”

“Neither did I. Until you.”

He lifts his head and smiles, planting a sweet kiss on my lips. This has to be one of the best moments of my life.

“Connor, I—” My words cut off when I see the frown on his face. “What’s the matter?’

He pulls back and all the satisfaction and contentment from moments before have vanished. In their place is pure horror. A feeling I share when he says,

“The condom broke.”

Chapter Seven

C
onnor pulls me up off the couch and drags me into the shower. He turns the water on and I yelp as icy droplets hit my skin. Ignoring my distress, he reaches between my legs almost mechanically, with none of the heat from minutes before, and washes away his seed. There is nothing sexy about his clinical touch.

I wrestle his hand away from my sex. “Connor, stop it. This won’t change anything.”

He spins me around, toward the now warm water. “Get clean. We need to get you to the city, now.”

“The city? Connor, I have to get back to the Rosemont.” Shoot. it was the other Connor that had promised I would be back by Monday morning. I tag on, “You promised.”

“That was before.” His voice is flat, devoid of all emotion. “We’re going to Manhattan. I’ll have a doctor meet us there.”

“Doctor?” He’s freaking me out now, this robot version so detached from the moment. From me. He might be standing right next to me but I get the impression we’ve never been farther apart.

“To get you the morning after pill. And put you on a more permanent form of birth control.” He says this as though stating the obvious.

“You could at least ask me if this is what I want!”

“It’s the most logical course of action.” He says and shoves me headfirst under the spray. “This isn’t a democracy; we aren’t going to vote on this. I shouldn’t have let it get so far out of hand without having precautions in place.”

Shutting the water off, I whirl to get away from him and slip on the wet tile. His arms go around me and he hauls me back up against his chest.

“Let go of me!” I’m incised that he’s being such an ass about this, telling me I don’t get a say in what I do with my own body. “Hands off, pal.”

“Be careful. You could get hurt.”

I laugh hollowly. How does he not realize that I’m already hurt? Especially considering he’s the one wielding the knife. “I need to get away from you, right fucking now, Connor.”

“No,” he responds, dismissing my wishes as if they are irrelevant. Retrieving two fluffy bath towels from the nearby shelf, he hands it to me. “Don’t argue with me, Baily. You’ll see the doctor, get what you need and we’ll spend the night in my apartment. You’ll be back at Rosemont tomorrow morning.”

I wrap the towel around me, shoddy protection but better than nothing. “You’ve got it all figured out, don’t you?”

He either doesn’t pick up on my sarcasm or chooses to ignore it. “Of course. I don’t see why you are being unreasonable about this.”

“
I’m
the unreasonable one? How can you say that with a straight face, you who practically yanked my arm out of the socket breaking land speed records getting me in here?” Yelling feels good, especially the way my voice echoes off of the tile in the small bathroom.

Connor shouts back. “I’m trying to unfuck this totally fucked situation!”

The words land like a blow across my face. I draw back, wounded. “You mean you wish you could unfuck me, right?”

He doesn’t deny it, instead running a hand through his hair. I can almost hear the tearing sound of my heart being ripped in two. His chest heaves as he drags in great lungfuls of air.

“I’ll get dressed,” I say quietly. Easier to acquiesce to his demands than fight him every step of the way. “I’ll agree to see your doctor, but I need to get home tonight.”

I quietly leave the bathroom, shutting the door behind me.

My well-used body protests as I bend down to retrieve my bathing suit. I feel as though I’ve aged one hundred years since taking it off. I wish for a pair of jeans and a sweater, since I’m shivering, but my clothes are back upstate while I’m here, totally dependent on Connor the control freak to feed and clothe me.

Smart move, that.
Snarkarella rolls her eyes at me.

As soon as I get home, I’m sending everything back to him. Including the check. Although keeping his money would make my life so much easier, I want no part of it. I’ll just have to figure something else out.

I will change the locks on my cottage though and give him the keys after I find somewhere else to live. Leaving myself at his mercy is completely out of the question. Maybe Greg will help me out, give me a place to crash. That is, if he’s still speaking to me after the incident at the bar.

I move to the porch and stare out at the water. The sky is gray, heavy with fat, dark clouds. I’m sorry I didn’t spend more time on the beach. I can’t regret coming here, even if this is how it ends. I followed my heart and got a little taste of the divine, a reprieve from the hardship of my day to day life. How many people ever manage that?

Connor exits the bedroom just as I finish braiding my wet hair. He isn’t even looking at me as he types a text message on his phone. “You ready?”

My dress, shoes and underwear from the night before are in the shopping bag, as well as my clutch containing his check, my phone and twenty seven dollars, all the cash I have. “What about that?” I nod to the dishes still sitting on the patio.

“I have staff to clean up.” He stows his phone and gestures toward the front door.

Considering I’m part of that staff, his answer rankles. Just leave it, the help will get it. Casting him a sour look, I open the sliding glass door and stalk to the table where I start stacking dishes. Connor watches silently as I scrape the remains of the delicious breakfast into the trash and load the dishwasher. When the task is complete I dry my hands on a dishtowel and turn to him. “You should learn to clean up your own messes.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” he says levelly.

Great, I’ve gone from being his most cherished possession to a mess he’s forced to deal with in a burst of latex. Was I really naive enough to hope for a happy ending here? My anger deflates and my shoulders sag as we exit through the garage.

 I’m surprised to see men wearing Connor’s black security detail uniform appear on either side of us. “Did they sleep in the car all night?”

“I own every house on the street.”

No wonder the strip of beach was virtually deserted. “Any particular reason?” I don’t know what compels me to ask, because the last thing I want is to make small talk with him, give him another chance to gut me.

There is an SUV with blackout windows idling at the curb. One of the security guards opens the rear door for us and Connor places his hand on the small of my back as I climb inside. Once we’re secured inside the car, the driver pulls away from the curb. “Privacy, for one thing. The people I gift those houses to have proven themselves loyal employees.”