THE INVITATION (The Marriage Diaries, Volume 5) (12 page)

“Here’s your chance to do it,” she said, a challenging gleam in her eyes.

In a flash, he was on the bed and kneeling astride her stomach, quickly working the button and zipper on his pants to free his cock before he changed his mind about what he was about to reveal. “I want to fuck your tits.”

Her mouth dropped open, then snapped shut again, though her eyes remained wide and startled by his very kinky request.

He chuckled, the sound low and deep and completely depraved as he shoved his pants down to his hips, released his shaft, and began stroking the hard, hot length in his palm while she watched. “What? Is that too
shocking
for you, Candy?”

She quickly recovered and lifted her chin in a show of confidence. “Of course not. In fact, there’s lubrication in my purse if you need it. I always come prepared, for
anything
.”

He raised a brow at her sassy reply, but said nothing as he reached over to the night stand, opened her small purse, and retrieved the lube that no
working girl
would ever leave home without. He squirted a line of the slippery substance between her breasts and smeared it around until he was assured a smooth, slick ride.

“Press your tits tight together so I can fuck them,” he ordered gruffly, unable to deny the excitement spiking through him as she immediately obeyed. Taking his cock in hand, he inserted the engorged head between her plumped up breasts and pushed his hips forward, sliding into . . .
heaven
.

He groaned and shuddered as he pulled back, then surged in again. “
Holy hell
,” he uttered on a breath, his eyes closing for a moment as he tried to process just how good it felt to have his dick cocooned in such softness and warmth.

“Don’t stop now,” she teased, rubbing her breasts together so that she created another layer of sensation along his enveloped cock.

He opened his eyes, met her beguiling gaze, and gave into the need pounding through him. Leaning over her for a better thrusting angle, he grabbed onto the headboard and began to piston his hips — slowly at first, then gradually picking up the pace until he’d created a heated friction that short circuited his brain.

Forcing himself to hold back, he looked down, so incredibly turned on by the erotic sight of his cock burrowing between her lush cleavage and equally satisfied by just how aroused this scenario was making her, too. Her face was flushed, and she arched her back to accommodate his steady thrusts, keeping her breasts squeezed tight together. She pinched her elongated nipples, moaned oh-so-softly, and he lost it completely.

He growled deep in his throat as his orgasm slammed into him and he came hot and hard, his rigid cock pulsing, throbbing, while his essence splashed across her chest and throat in hot, sticky torrent.

By the time the last shock waves died away, he was gasping for breath. He sat back on her stomach, trying to recover from the mind-blowing experience.

“Was it good?” she asked, her tone deliciously smug.

“You know it was.” Unable to stop himself, he reached out and trailed a finger through the milky drops of semen on her skin. “Do you know what it’s called when a man comes on a woman’s chest and throat?”

She arched a curious brow. “No, what?”

He gave her a wicked smile. “A pearl necklace.” He dragged that same finger, now slick with his release, along her bottom lip, then boldly pushed it into her mouth.

“Umm.” Meeting his gaze, she swirled her tongue around his finger, brazenly licking and sucking away the taste of him. “I love pearls,” she said huskily, once he withdrew his finger from her warm, wet mouth.

“My wife is very fond of them, as well.”

As soon as the intimate words were out, as soon as those green eyes staring up at him softened with emotion, a wealth of guilt crashed over him, jolting him right out of the fantasy. Reality rudely intruded, and those same insecurities that had driven him to shut out his wife the night before he’d left town suddenly overwhelmed him all over again. His chest tightened, and needing distance to regain his composure, he moved off her and headed into the adjoining bathroom, closing the door behind him.

He turned on the shower, and as steam began to fill the spacious area he stripped off the rest of his clothes, then stepped beneath the hot spray, letting the water drench his hair and sluice down his body. A moment later, the door opened and through the clear glass cubicle he watched Jillian tentatively walk inside the bathroom.

She’d stripped away every trace of
Candy
. The blonde wig was gone, allowing her beautiful, dark brown hair to tumble freely around her shoulders. She’d removed those green contacts, wiped away the red lipstick, and taken off her sexy
call girl
clothes. She was as naked as he was, and as she quietly stepped into the shower with him and lifted her gaze to his, the renewed fortitude in her sky blue eyes twisted his stomach into a gigantic knot of uncertainty.

After a week of small talk on the phone that skirted the underlying issue between them, why had she shown up now? The question bounced around in his head, dredging up answers that played into his deepest, most basic fears. What if she’d flown all the way to New York for one last fun sexcapade before asking for a divorce so she could do whatever the hell she wanted without ever having to ask him? What if she’d decided that she liked being independent and didn’t need him anymore?

His hands clenched into fists at his sides, and he knew his expression reflected the anguish and unease swirling inside of him. He’d always done an impeccable job of suppressing those too-vulnerable weaknesses from his wife, but when he was faced with the very real possibility of losing her, he found it impossible to conceal his emotional turmoil.

She saw it, too. Her gaze softened and she closed the distance between them so she was only inches away, the spray from the shower getting her wet, too. “Dean, we need to talk,” she said, her words gentle, yet undeniably determined.

Not ready to face the inevitable, he did the one thing he knew would stall the discussion to come,
coward that he was
. Reaching out, he threaded his fingers through her damp hair, tipped her head back, and crushed his mouth to hers. Her lips parted on a gasp of surprise, and he took full advantage, thrusting his tongue deep inside while backing her up against the cool tiled wall and pressing their bodies tight together.

Much to his relief, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back, her mouth giving and taking with equal measure. He couldn’t get enough of her, his need and hunger so great it threatened to engulf him and leave him drowning.

He pulled his mouth from hers and buried his face against the sweet curve of her neck as the shower spray pummeled his back. He was panting for breath, his aching, throbbing cock pressing insistently against her soft stomach. “Jillian . . .” He groaned her name, uncaring of how desperate his voice had become. “I need to be inside of you. I need to be a part of you.
Please
.” It wasn’t a demand, but a request, one he needed her to acknowledge and accept on her own terms.

“Yes,” she whispered.

As soon as the word was out of her mouth he pulled her out of the shower, leaving the water running in his haste, and had her flat on her back on the bed within thirty seconds. His slick, wet body moved over hers, and she automatically spread her legs for him, allowing him to slide inside of her, all the way to the hilt, in one smooth, driving thrust. She wrapped her legs around his waist and arched beneath him, the scrape of her nails across his back urging him to move.

He wanted to go slow. Wanted to make this last. Wanted to make love to her and be soft and tender and romantic. But she knew what he needed the most, knew his mind and body and what was in the deepest recesses of his soul. No matter the issues between the two of them, no matter the power struggle
outside
of the bedroom, here, beneath him, she was willing to submit to his every desire, and that knowledge slayed and humbled him.

“Take me harder, Dean,” she said huskily as her hands skimmed down the slope of his back to clutch his ass in an attempt increase the pace of his thrusts. “Take me
deeper
.”

Ahh, fuck
. She knew exactly how to appeal to his darker, more dominant side, knew exactly what to do to engage him and he was helpless to resist her efforts. Grasping her wrists, he stretched her arms above her head and restrained her hands by linking their fingers together, providing him with the ultimate control he craved, and allowing him complete and primitive possession of her body and pleasure.

He flexed his hips, tunneling into her faster, forging deeper with every demanding, ruthless stroke and fucking her like a force of nature. With a helpless, unraveling moan, her head rolled back, her eyes closed, and he felt those internal contractions begin to flutter around his cock, milking his shaft with an incredible liquid warmth.

“Look at me,” he ordered gruffly, needing that connection with her.

With effort, Jillian’s eyes opened once again, the heat and adoration in the depths of her gaze his final undoing. Her fingers tightened around his as if she needed the anchor as she tumbled over the edge of her orgasm and came apart for him with a soft cry of pleasure, while he continued to pound into her until his own searing release scorched through him, leaving him spent, wasted, and his emotions scraped raw.

He moved off her, and with a content sigh she snuggled against his chest, soft, warm, and sated. And that’s how he planned to keep her, all night long, because come the morning there would be no avoiding the conversation she’d come all the way to New York to have with him.

J
illian woke up alone in the big, king-sized bed she’d shared with her husband last night, not surprised, but definitely disappointed, to find him gone. She reached out and touched the pillow beside hers, hating that Dean found it necessary to put distance between them this morning when they’d shared so much physically and emotionally the evening before.

There hadn’t been much of an opportunity to talk during the course of the night, not when Dean had made it a point to keep her hands and mouth
very
busy whenever he thought she was going to broach the subject of her working. And because he was a master at knowing exactly what turned her on, his stall tactics had worked much too well.

She exhaled a frustrated stream of breath. How long did he intend to evade the huge disagreement still hanging over them like a dark cloud? It didn’t matter, because she had every intention of confronting Dean and getting it all out into the open. He couldn’t avoid her forever, and wherever he’d disappeared to, he’d eventually have to return. As far as she was concerned, they weren’t leaving New York until they’d resolved their issues and they came to an understanding.

With a shake of her head, she got up and padded into the bathroom and used the facilities. Realizing she only had last night’s clothes with her, she slipped into the plush white robe hanging from a hook on the back of the door, secured the sash, then combed the tangles from her hair and brushed her teeth. She’d left her luggage with the concierge when she’d arrived at the hotel yesterday afternoon, and she needed to call the front desk to have it delivered so she’d have something to wear for the day other than the skimpy outfit she’d worn to seduce her husband down in the bar.

The thought of how thoroughly she’d surprised Dean made her smile.

The entire week without Dean had been long and miserable. She always missed him when he was away on a business trip, but their evening phone conversations had always been warm, fun, and sometimes very sexy. This time, they’d been cool, polite, and abrupt, and with each day that passed she could feel that chasm deepening between them, until she feared they might not be able to get past the conflict that had put them at a mutual stand-off.

Then, two days ago, she’d been down in their playroom, thinking of how far they’d come in just a few months, how much closer they’d grown emotionally and physically, all because she’d been open and honest about wanting to heat up their sex lives, and Dean allowing himself to embrace those darker impulses he’d suppressed for way too long.

On a whim, she’d reached into the decorative crystal vase she’d bought for them to use as a place where they could write down and share their secret, provocative fantasies, to use whenever they needed inspiration, and withdrew a folded piece of paper. When she read Dean’s bold handwriting and the sexy scenario he’d divulged —
being seduced by a call girl at a bar
— she took it as a sign of fate of what she needed to do to break the ice between them and hopefully put things back on track again.

Last night’s seduction had been a huge success, but unfortunately they were no closer to a resolution than when he’d left for his business trip a week ago.

Figuring she’d camp out in the suite until he returned from wherever he’d gone, she opened the master bedroom door and headed into the adjoining living room. She came to an abrupt stop when she saw Dean sitting at the dining table, going through messages on his phone while eating a plate filled with eggs, bacon, and hash browns.