No Perfect Princess (28 page)

It was a crash course in patience for me, not calling a single damn shot. Suddenly, my mind and body were free for other pursuits, such as learning what pleased him when I touched him. And learning what pleased me, too. I reveled in the feel of his torso beneath my hands, so hard and honed and fascinating. The man had muscles where I didn’t know any existed. It wasn’t long before I entertained the thought of dropping to my knees, flipping open his fly, and—

Ground already covered. I was pretty certain I’d be on my knees when Michael said I would, and not before. For a moment, just one, I considered testing the theory. A punishment from him might be fun…

I pushed the thought away when he peeled the straps of my sundress down my arms, making the built-in cups fall away from my breasts. I had gone braless today, knowing the heat would be too stifling for tight underthings, so he got the full VIP treatment, courtesy of my 36B’s, as I stood in a slice of sunlight streaming through the loft’s high cutout window.

“Damn.” He breathed it more than anything, shaking his head, his eyes still fixated on my nipples. “You look like an angel in this light.”

I basked in his lusty fixation. I wasn’t one of these women’s lib girls who screamed about being objectified. Sometimes, it was damn nice to be revered as a thing of beauty. It was also cleaner that way, and everyone knew where they stood.

“Angel?” I chuckled a little. “
Pssshh
. We both know
that’s
the furthest thing from reality. So come put that mouth to better use.” Yeah, so old habits died hard. I bounced off the saucy tone with an equally cheeky grin.

Michael didn’t go there. Something definitely changed in his stare, and it wasn’t his desire level.

“Hiding.”

“What?” I was suddenly
very
conscious of my nudity. I stepped back, yanking at the dress straps.

“Don’t,” he growled. “
Don’t
cover yourself from me. The inside or the outside.”

Snark had become my bestie again. “Holy Sigmund Freud, Batman. You want a psych eval or a good fuck?”

“Oh, we’re going to fuck. And it’s going to be amazing.” He stepped toward me again. Prowling was more like it. Holy shit, I really wanted to cover up again. “But when it’s all over, we
will
talk—about what you’re always trying to hide from me.”

I rolled my eyes. That was
it
. But it was apparently the right
it
, because his sexual energy exploded through the building like a damn
Highlander
quickening. I saw starbursts if not lightning bolts as he grabbed me again, spinning my back to his front once more.
Ohhhh hell, yes
. He held my arm behind my back like a criminal and it was so hot, I wouldn’t have fought him off for all the Louboutins in Paris.

By the time he leaned over and sank his teeth into my shoulder, shoving his knee between my legs at the same time, I was officially past thoughts, let alone any sense of shame. I ground my crotch on his thigh, pretty certain I’d be at orgasm in record time, if I could keep my pussy hard against him like—

“Naughty girl.” He chuckled while pulling his leg back, hauling me harder against him with brutal force. “So used to doing everything for yourself, I see. That changes now, princess.” He glided a hand around to my front, hiking my dress out of the way and swooping fingers into my panties in a move that was damned impressive. “Fuck,” he grated. “Yes. Ohhhh, yes. This is…incredible. Feel how soaked your panties are, sugar. Was your naughty little pussy dripping all over them? Because you were thinking about me?” He curled two of those fingers in, flicking in firm strokes at the lips cushioning my core…then spreading them. “Cream some more for me, beautiful.”
Flick flick.
“I want to smell it now.”
Spread.
“Fill this fucking barn with the scent of your delicious cunt.”

And I thought his mouth was talented? His fingers needed to have their own insurance policy. He added to his play on my pussy with strong, skillful strokes on my clit, inciting moans from deep within, echoing up through my mouth until I was whining into the crook of the arm he practically held me up by. The man still didn’t relent, turning everything down there into a hot, wet tangle, dipping into my tunnel for extra moisture, which he worked back up over my clit again.

“Fuck, Michael! Please! I’m begging you. Is that what you want to hear? I’m
begging
now. I need to be fucked!”

He answered with another harsh growl against my ear, before pulling me forward a few steps. I dragged my eyes open far enough to watch him plant both my hands atop a pair of stacked hay bales.

“See those binding straps?” He said it against the distinct crinkle of unwrapping foil. “Grab those and hang on tight, Margaux. I can’t guarantee gentle this time around.”

“Do you hear a single complaint?” I retorted—for which I got a reprimanding smack on both ass cheeks, as soon as he lifted my skirt from the back. I held to my word. Not a syllable of complaint—especially when he delivered on what I’d been pleading for. One motion. Firm and forceful. He was ruthless and dominating, plunging until his hips hit my ass.

“Yes!” I screamed.

“Yesssss,” Michael hissed. He’d gone still for a long moment, all his muscles trembling. “God
damn
, woman. You feel so good. Let me—just—regroup here.”

I smiled. The ultimate compliment. He was on the verge of coming himself, and needed a pause for self-control. Perfectly fine by me. This moment had been nearly a year in the making, and I knew he was going to make it good—and messy and brutal and incredible—with a fucking I’d never forget.

Who was I kidding? I
already
knew I’d never forget him.

“Beyond my wildest dreams,” Michael murmured, raking his hands to my hips. He began moving inside me, his thrusts deep but gentle.

“Dammit,” I countered. I agreed with him; this was fantasy-worthy stuff, but I needed—

“More. Please,
please
…more.”

“How can I refuse my princess?”

We’d discuss his persistence with that “princess” shit during the “talk” he insisted on later. Right now, there was only the pleasure. My God, the
pleasure.
Before long, Michael proved true to his word. His cock swelled as his lunges grew longer, harder, just the way I craved them. I followed his direction and gripped the hay bindings, partly for balance and partly so I wouldn’t rub myself to a fast orgasm. I wanted everything about this union to last, knowing it wouldn’t ever happen again.

I steadied my breath and fought to focus on how Michael felt inside me, around me, behind me. He was everywhere!
Don’t let this end. Don’t let this end.

He was steady and thorough, thrusting at a nice pace but never amping it to full power. He teased me more by leaning to pluck at my nipples, driving in the burn by twisting them with knowing pressure. At the same time, with each inward stroke, his tight sack smacked against my swollen clit, adding to the pleasurable sensations on that end of my body too.

As he pinched my left nipple to the point that I cried out, he queried, “Feel good, baby?”

“Bastard,” I groused. “You know it does.” I shuddered. The squeezes he gave my breasts rained pure star fire down to my pussy, where the sensitive ridge he’d toyed with was still exposed, erect, and crying for stimulation. “I need to come,” I whimpered. “Please…”

“There’s no hurry, sugar. Nobody will be back for hours. We have all afternoon.”

“All
afternoon
?” I snapped. “For
you
, maybe.”

That generated another spank, stinging deeper than the first. Fuck, it was…
nice.
When a moan tumbled out, shocking me with its keen desperation, I got a matching smack on the other side.

“You like that, too?”

“I—I do,” I admitted. First
and
last time for those words on my lips. “Michael—let’s just—please!”

“Easy, beautiful. Try to let it build. I promise it will be worth it.”

“Is that your point? Because I’m pretty convinced it’s going to be worth it.”

I couldn’t take anymore. Redistributing my weight to my left hand, I reached between my legs with my right. Christ, it felt good to take even a second of the edge off—which was about what Michael gave me before lunging back on me.

“No fucking way, blondie.” He laughed. “Christ, you’re a bad girl.”

“Said the pot to the kettle?”

“You don’t know the half of it.”

No other elaboration came except the tight hold he enforced on me, pinning my arm at the small of my back again. Pearson bondage, revisited. I was a damn goner. Thank God he got the message about what it would take to end this for me. With his other hand he reached around, starting slow circles on my clit that were timed perfectly with his thrusts. As his fucking increased, so did the rubbing.

Pure pressure. Pure heat. Pure heaven.

“Michael! So—close! Fuck me. Fuck me
harder
. Do it!”

I succeeded,
at last
, in breaking past his composure again. This time, he exploded at me in fire instead of frustration.
So much better. Oh hell…so much
!

He started slamming into me, rocking my entire body forward with each ferocious sweep. It was—fucking—awesome.

I was wound so tightly, ready to detonate. A fast look over my shoulder revealed Michael with his head thrown back, mouth hanging open, so damn sexy. Well, that did it. Seeing the desire I’d incited in him…I was lost.

And tumbled headlong into the ecstasy he gave me in return.

“Michael!”

“Margaux!”

“So good!” We yelled it in unison as the fire finally swept us, tearing through our bodies with searing synchronization. As my sex clenched and gripped, his throbbed and pumped. I was stunned to glance up and see the roof and walls intact, not ablaze from the combustion of our passion. As Michael continued emptying himself, groaning harder from the release, one word insisted on resonating through my head.

Finally.

We’d really gone there. Really done this. And it was really as explosive, extraordinary, and astonishing as I’d hoped…and feared.

Sensations I couldn’t even come close to processing yet.

Many minutes and a lot of shuddering thrusts later, we panted together in sweaty, shaky, wordless wonder. Sometimes, moments couldn’t be made any better by talking. The afterglow from mind-bending hay barn sex was definitely one of those ideals.

He fell away from me, peeled off the condom in an efficient
thwick,
and paced away, likely in search of a trash can. When he returned, I had righted my clothes. He’d managed to zip up but his shirt was still laying on the ground where he’d tossed it. I didn’t have a problem with that at all.

I’d started plucking hay from my hair, making him chuckle softly. He wrapped his arms around me, drawing me tight and close once more, before planting the kiss to end all kisses on my lips. He was gentle, yet commanding; tender, but absolutely demanding.

How did he do it? Manage to be so many things in one scarily perfect package? It wasn’t fair. I found myself ruminating on the possibility of—shit—keeping him around. Even smiled a little from the idea, giving him a peek at my dimples, imagining what it would be like to have this kind of magic around all the time. Now
that
was a nice thought…

Except that it was impossible.

No way, no how.

Time to call in the guards. Erect the walls and get out of Dodge while I could.

Except there was a problem with that plan, too. Michael saw right through it.

“Dammit, Margaux. Don’t do it.”

I huffed to buy time. “Do what?”

“Slam those walls up. Then distract me from them with some snarky remark. Some clever little ‘that was good for a beginner’ zinger. It’s not going to work anymore.”

I smirked—and meant it. “Did it ever work with you? Really, I mean?”

“Nah. But I played along for awhile like a good sport, didn’t I?”

“Yeah.” I couldn’t help but grow the smile to a chuckle. “You did.”

He tightened his embrace while his mien sobered. “I wasn’t kidding before. I’m not now. I really want to talk to you about what’s going on here—between us. There’s no one here to interrupt us, no one to run interference for you like usual.” He dipped his head, seeming to know exactly what angle was best for the light to capture the piercing gold glints in his eyes. “Let’s do this, Margaux. Lay our cards on the table, once and for all.”

He tried pulling me to sit beside him on the hay bales and I instantly wrinkled my nose. “Can we move this to the house? That stuff is animal dinner, you know.”

He shook his head. “Nope. Here. Now.” And I swore, purposely kept his shirt off to emphasize the force of his assertion. “You’ll get in the house and throw up a thousand distractions.”

Shit
.

Busted. Again.

My chivalrous not-boyfriend retrieved his shirt and laid it out flat so I could sit on the stinky animal food beside him. I had no escape. Like the sex, this was going to happen, too—but if that was what he wanted, he could start first.

And he did.

“I’m just going to say it,” he stated, reaching for my hand. “I’m falling for you, Margaux Asher. I think I did a long time ago, actually. I think maybe it was that time you chewed my ass for getting you a mocha instead of a latte from the coffee cart at the office…” He let that trail into his boyish-gone-sexy grin on me—not a fair move in the slightest, though I admired him for it.

I had nothing in return for him.

My mind was too busy with alarms.

Red Alert.

Red Alert.

Red Alert.

All women went through the same thing when a man laid himself at her feet.

Right?

While I waged that inner battle, the man sat there in bare-chested, hopeful-grinned beauty…and expectancy. If I said nothing, he’d finally get the correct gist—that I simply didn’t have the emotional tools for this—and all that brilliance in his gaze would mist over to disappointment. Better now than later, I guess.