Hers for the Evening (35 page)

She sighed. “Simon.”

He couldn’t hear his name on her lips enough.

“Fuck me,” he whispered, seduced, cajoled, begged. Haley rode him, settling into her rhythm, faster, the bump of her G-spot cruising over his cock.

“That’s it, baby, fucking perfect, shit, holy hell.” He reached between them, adding his thumb to her clitoris, and she straightened, her hands rising to her hair, lifting it. She panted, moaned, made delicious sounds that rocked his cock. Her thighs tightened as she pushed herself to a faster pace. He glanced in the mirror. “Jesus, you’re fucking gorgeous. Beautiful. Perfect. Shit, oh man, God.” Words spilled out of him, but none of them did justice to the picture she made. Like a goddess, a magnificent Valkyrie riding her stallion. Her body spasmed, and she cried out, her pussy contracting around him, turning him mindless. He grabbed her hips, hung on as she threw them both into Valhalla, Nirvana, the heavens.

He returned to his full senses with his cock still semi-erect and buried deep in her perfect pussy. Her hair had fallen all around them, cocooning them. The wild 232

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beat of his heart had calmed, but his ears continued ringing. For the first time in his adult life, or rather since he’d had his first sexual experience at the age of fourteen, he didn’t want to let a woman go. He’d spent the night a few times, but mostly he preferred to leave. He wasn’t a cuddler. Yet he could have cuddled Haley until morning light, then made love to her all over again with the sun falling across the sheets. He wanted, but couldn’t find the right words to ask. He needed, but couldn’t beg. Twelve years. He’d watched her grow up, fall in love, get hurt, lose her confidence in herself.

Now a part of him wondered how he could have allowed Artie to do those things to her. He’d been aware of the affair, but he’d told himself it wasn’t his business and let it go on. Haley was right. She’d been his friend, not just Artie’s. She’d trusted him, he’d owed her the truth, yet he’d failed her.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, thinking her asleep.

“For what?” she murmured against his throat.

“For hurting you.”

She pulled back a few scant inches. “You didn’t hurt me, Simon. That was the most beautiful”—she stopped, swallowed—“fuck I’ve ever had.”

Shit. He hated that word on her lips. Why couldn’t she go back to making love? It ached that she didn’t understand what he was trying to say. He’d have explained if Christopher wasn’t still sitting on the end of the bed. There were equal parts exhibitionist and voyeur in him. He got off on watching and being watched. Except now. Except with Haley in this moment, the first time he took her and she took him. The first time he truly gave himself to a woman.

“Time to go, baby.”

He’d get her home. He’d explain there.

She rose to a seated position, stretched, groaned, twisted, moaned, and made his cock crazy inside her again. Then she met Christopher’s gaze in the mirror. Her eyes widened, her skin flushed. The heat of the moment was definitely over.

“There’s a bathroom over there, corner door.” He pointed. Damn if she didn’t scurry off him, practically flying from the bed to grab her clothes and run for the restroom. It wasn’t how he wanted it to end. He removed the condom, disposed of it in the trash by the bed.

“Not exactly how you wanted it to turn out, was it.” Christopher dropped the 233

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master/slave role, and it wasn’t a question.

“It was fucking perfect.” Simon rose, padded to his jeans, shirt, boots, and underwear. Haley’s sliced underthings lay on top.

“No, sport, you’re sorta screwed and not in a good way.”

Simon pulled in a deep breath. He didn’t get mad easily, go in for bar fights, or let off steam with his fists, but Christopher wasn’t making it easy.

“Want some advice?”

He laughed. “No.”

Christopher ignored him. “Tell her how you really feel. No games.”

He scratched the side of his face in a seemingly easy gesture. “Time for you to go.”

Christopher unfolded himself from the bed and donned his clothes. “I’d give a helluva lot to have what’s at your fingertips.”

The guy didn’t know the history and Simon wasn’t about to explain. “Thanks.”

He buttoned his shirt, tucked it in, then zipped his jeans. “You did a great job.”

He held a hand out indicating the stairs. “The gate will open automatically for you on the way out.” He’d given the guy his cash when he arrived. Simon decided a price he was willing to pay, and took care of everything up front. If it didn’t turn out as he’d expected, lesson learned, don’t do it again at any price. Christopher smiled, saluted, and backed up to the staircase. “Meditate on it, sport. You could have everything if you simply found your balls.”

The guy was pushing it. Simon steeled himself not to react as Christopher disappeared up the stairs.

Maybe he did lack balls. He was afraid she’d never forgive him for not telling her about Artie and terrified to put himself on the line after what they’d shared on that bed.

Yeah. That qualified as lacking a pair of cajones. 234

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10

HALEY FELT COMPLETELY NAKED WITHOUT HER BRA AND PANTIES. It was all so sexy while she was being stripped, not so much in the silence of Simon’s truck, the big console separating them like a wall. Christopher was gone by the time she came out of the bathroom. A good thing, since it was bad enough having to face Simon. Everything had been so darn hot up to that point. It didn’t matter if Simon called it fucking, what he’d done was make love to her. She’d been drifting in that state of orgasmic satiation only to open her eyes to find Christopher staring at them. Even that wasn’t bad, but it was what Christopher represented, the embodiment of Simon’s way of life: kinky sex, exhibitionism, voyeurism. And lots of variety in his women. He had such beautiful hands as he guided the truck around another mountain curve. Blunt masculine fingers, a thick palm, his hands practically spanned her waist. She’d always thought him handsome, but now she savored every detail. His silver hair was soft not coarse, his skin firm, muscles strong. Women constantly gave him a double-take. He noticed in return with an assessing eye. He didn’t parade his ladies as if they were conquests. Most of what she believed about Simon and his women, Artie had told her, as he vicariously enjoyed Simon’s exploits. The few times she’d met one of his dates, Simon appeared gracious and attentive. In the twelve years she’d known him, though, he’d never had a serious relationship. He was casual dating only. And casual sex. He used a sex agency, too, for heaven’s sake. Courtesans. He hired women. One woman would never do for Simon.

She realized she was talking herself out of a relationship with him. Which meant she’d actually been considering it. Because the sex had been so phenomenal. Because she’d felt the same connection she’d had with him before Artie died. But Simon and a relationship? She was out of her mind. After Artie’s infidelity—maybe there were more affairs she knew nothing about—she couldn’t face the same thing from Simon. There was absolutely no chance for them. Not that he’d asked anyway.

Buried in her own thoughts, she didn’t notice they were in her driveway until he shut off the engine.

“Thanks. It was great. You don’t need to walk me to the door,” she said as if 235

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they’d been on a date she couldn’t get away from fast enough. She grabbed the door handle before he could come around, and she climbed out. Simon’s legs were longer and he moved faster, and he stood on the raised brick stoop before she made it up the last step.

“I never dump a lady off at night and simply drive away. I make sure she gets inside safely.” He held out his hand. “Where’s your key?”

His very statement reminded her of his vast experience with women. She clasped the house key to her chest. “Thanks. I can open my own door. Good night.”

In the dim porch light, he was big, tall, overwhelming. With the proximity, his scent washed over her senses, heating her, the tactile feel of his body imprinted between her legs, the slight roughness of his body hair along her thighs.

“You don’t want me to leave yet, Haley. There’s so many things we haven’t done.”

She shivered. They’d kissed, he’d licked her, she’d sucked him, they’d fucked. What else was there? She wasn’t stupid enough to ask aloud. “I’m tired, Simon. That was a quite a workout. Now I need my beauty sleep.”

He caressed her cheek with his knuckles. “You’re too beautiful for my sanity already.”

See? He had all the right words to charm a woman out of her panties, though, in this case, charm wasn’t necessary. She was naked under the skirt, her nipples clearly outlined beneath the thin shirt. His gaze dropped for a microsecond, noting the peaks coming to life. She eased around him, managed to fit the key to the lock. Opening the door, she pivoted on her heel in the entryway, one hand on the jamb. He had a booted foot on the sill so she couldn’t shut him out.

“Haley, don’t end the night like this. We need to talk about it. So you’re not all freaked out by tomorrow.”

She was already freaked out at how much she loved what they’d done.

“Haley, let me in,” he said softly, yet with a force of will that had her wanting to do anything he told her to.

She was weak. She stood on the threshold, wanting, needing. With one crook of his little finger, she’d buckle.

Simon didn’t use his little finger. Hands on her rib cage, he lifted her, carried her inside, slammed the door with his foot. She had a choice, but she threw her 236

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arms around his neck anyway. Resistance was futile. Raising her legs, she crooked her knees at his hips and locked her ankles behind him.

“This is the last time,” she murmured before he shoved her up against the wall and sealed her lips with a kiss.

Lord, the man could kiss. He devoured without being sloppy. He tasted and sucked and licked as if her mouth were a sweet treat. She moaned as he conquered her tongue. He ground his hot, hard cock between her legs, and she writhed. It hadn’t been an hour since they’d left the mountain house, but he was ready. So big, he engulfed her, his whole body, touching her here, there, everywhere. She couldn’t think. He made her not want to. She drowned in his minty taste, reveled in his earthy male scent, sipped and savored his mouth, his lips.

She had to pull back just to breathe, eyes closed, head against the wall.

“Simon.”

“Ride the wave with me, baby.” He lifted her higher, cupped her breast, flicking her nipple, teasing, pinching, then he bent his head to suck right through her T-shirt.

She cupped his head, sifting her fingers through his hair, her body poised on the brink. Laying her head back, she rode the wave exactly the way he wanted her to, drifting in sensation, no thinking, no worrying. His mouth on hers again, he slid his hands over her thighs and up her skirt as he braced her against the wall. Finding the warm, wet center of her, he played her in rhythm with his tongue between her lips. Her body shuddered. She gasped into his mouth. Lord, he had a way about him, knowing where to touch, for how long, how softly, how hard.

“Haley, Christ, baby, I need to be inside you.” His breath was warm against her neck. “Let me inside.” As he’d begged to enter her house, he begged to get inside her body.

“Yes.”

He didn’t even take her down off the wall. She wanted it like this. Elemental. The way she’d dreamed of him taking her since the moment he first lifted her in his arms against his office door. He kissed her again as she felt him reaching for his back pocket.

She held on with her arms and thighs as he ripped open the packet, leaned back, undid his belt and zipper.

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The man definitely had practice.

Haley gulped back the thought. Not now. Later. But not now. Rubber on, he eased the head of his cock past her opening, watching, a hand beneath her butt, balancing her on his strong, taut thighs. “You’re so fucking pretty. The most gorgeous pussy I’ve ever seen in my life.”

And he’d seen a lot.

Haley closed her eyes, shutting out the thought, opening her lids again when it was gone. “I love the way you talk while you have sex.”

He laughed. “Sex is not a thing to be done quietly.” He pushed home, and she cried out with the exquisite sensation. “See,” he murmured, “so much better when you make noise.”

She’d never been terribly vocal with Artie, and Simon was right, the louder she got, the more intense the feelings. She dug her fingernails into the firm muscles along the side of his neck as he rocked inside her. “Oh God, Simon.”

“G-spot?”

“Yes, yes.”

He was no wham-bam, taking his time, stoking her fire with words, touches, kisses, his voice. Lips on hers, he whispered, “Slow and easy over that special spot,” as he rode deep, pulled out, tipped his pelvis to slide at just the right angle.

“Simon.” She strained, arched, stretched.

“It’s fucking good, isn’t it.” He put his head back, gave a long sigh, pumped short and sharp in her channel. “Shit, fuck. You’re so perfect.” He leaned in again, face to her throat, and thrust hard, growling, groaning. “I need this. I so fucking need this, baby. Tell me you need it, too.”

Inside, she was molten liquid. “God, yes.”

“Say it.” His words heated her skin.

“I need you, Simon.” Not just this, the sex, the way he made her body feel, but him, the emotions he evoked.

He rocked hard, faster. “Put your finger on your clit.”

Clinging to his neck, she shoved her hand down between them, found her clit, swollen, sensitive, wet, and she rubbed. “Oh, oh.” That was all she could manage, heat and sensation bursting inside, outside, as his cock rode her Gspot.

“Come for me, baby.”

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