The Perfect Plans Series [Box Set] (10 page)

Holding my head gently in his hands, he pulls back, staring deeply, searchingly into my eyes. I watch him in awe as he leans closer, “I need to be inside you,” he whispers. A moan of agreement escapes my lips. “Dammit . . . condom . . . ” he mutters, his eyes closed in frustration, effectively stunning me silent that he didn’t come prepared, expecting me to be a foregone conclusion.

“I’m protected.”

“Are you sure?” he opens his eyes, searching mine.

Nodding my head, he adjusts, slowly sliding his hardness inside me.

I cease breathing. The feeling of his fullness is exquisite, almost too much for my long-unused body. He’s quite large, his width and length causing me to quake with every inch filling me.

With torturously slow advance, he comfortably settles fully, his eyes never leaving mine. “You okay?”

“Y-yes . . . please . . . ” I beg, yearning for him to fuck me, to satisfy my craving for him. Wiggling my hips I attempt to prompt his still body above me, my pussy’s desire to be fucked hard and fast overpowering me.

Asserting his authority for my patience, he pins my hips in place. He establishes a slow rhythm, sliding his huge cock out before sliding back in languidly, pulling a small scream from my lips at his depth.

My breathing accelerates further with each push and pull. I meet him measure for measure, unable to control my insatiable need against his gentle pace.

He’s displays no sense of urgency, placing soft unhurried kisses along my jaw and neck, his cock slowly driving in and out of me, over and over again.

Returning his lips to mine, I whimper as they gently claim me, relishing in the force behind his passion. Totally surrendering to it . . . to him. Moaning and gasping, I return his kisses, my finger nails scratching down the expanse of his sinewy back.

His thrusts quicken, our breaths coming faster in a raw display of lips and tongues. I’m lost in the moment, in the beauty of coming together as one, the pleasure completely overtaking me. I scream out, coming violently around his shaft, falling over the edge with a force I’ve never known.

Lost in euphoria, I barely discern his guttural groan into my neck as he spills himself inside me, his body quaking in my arms.

We lay in erotic bliss, unable to move as we try to catch our breath.

Rolling to his side, he takes me with him, my head resting against his damp chest. I bask in the accelerated beat of his heart, the realization that I’ve just made love to
Alexander Tate
lingering in my mind. It was the most beautiful, sensual experience of my life.

Placing a soft kiss to my crown, he rests his chin atop my head. “Can I stay?”

He
wants
to stay?
Didn’t he get what he came for? Why isn’t he hightailing it out of here? I’m confused, excited, and unsure how to respond. I had convinced myself that he only wanted sex.
I would give anything for him to stay. To get to know him personally, now that I know him intimately. Though I’ve already accepted that I’ll take whatever I can get, even if it’s only this one time. I’m reeling, wanting him to stay forever. Tilting my head, I look to him, his unreadable gaze searching mine.

“What’s going on in that beautiful head of yours?” he asks, brushing my hair off my clammy forehead, tucking it behind my ear.

“You
want
to stay?”

“Yes. If you’ll allow me.”

“Okay,” I mutter, my only able response. I certainly don’t want to appear too overeager and scare him away. I need to play it cool. I imagine that any other women he’s slept with turn fierce afterwards, making demands and expectations.

The reminder that other women have touched him and experienced him the way I just did sends a heated, uncontrollable jealousy through me. I can’t think about any other women right now. Pushing the displeasing thoughts away, I decide I won’t follow in their footsteps. I refuse to be
that
girl.
Or, girls,
I think to myself.

Pulling my chin up, he places a sweet kiss to my lips before sitting up, the absence of his warm body leaving my sweaty flesh to shiver in the cold. “Why don’t we order room service?” he suggests with a smile, seeming happy with the turn of events. This is the last thing I expected.

“Sure.” At the thought of food, I realize I’m starving; my concerns of playing it cool vanished. Having consumed solely my morning coffee and a hot chocolate, I need sustenance to regain my energy from our exertions.

“Anything particular you would like?”

“Ummm . . . I don’t know . . . just order all of it,” I reply in my euphoria, pushing myself up, the discarded bed sheet wrapped securely around my waist. “Be right back,” I make my way towards the bathroom, “I’m just gonna hit the ladies room . . . grab a quick shower.”

“Don’t shower. I like you smelling of me.”

Gasping, I leave a naked Alex in my wake.

DONNED IN A pair of boy shorts and white tank top, I make my way back into the room to find Alex sitting leisurely in one of the club chairs at the table, clad in black boxers.

Wow.
I stop dead in my tracks to stare. Could this man be any more breathtaking?

“Hey, beautiful,” he smiles.

“Hey yourself. Wow, that was fast. It smells delicious.” How long was I in the bathroom? I’m suddenly calculating the length of my confidence pep talk.

With a captivating smirk, he gestures towards the empty club chair, “Come. Sit.” Pulling the silver covers off an array of food, the sight of how much he’s ordered suggests he took my suggestion literally. “I hope this about covers it.”

Smiling, I nod my head, taking my seat.

“I like that I’ve put that smile on your face. I’ve wanted to since the moment you fell in my lap.”

His sexy charm blows my mind and I find myself wanting to hide its effectiveness, my open-mouthed gaze scampering back to the food. Digging in, my eyes close on a moan at my first bite, opening to his sensual gaze.

“I like the sound of your moans too.”

An instant wetness spurns between my thighs, reawakening my need for him.

“Come here,” he orders, leaning back in his chair. It’s an authoritative command I can’t bring myself to ignore.

I’m intoxicated by the lustful look in his eyes, completely incapable of saying no. Screw the food. I push my chair back and walk around the table to stand before him between his widespread legs.

He slides his hand up my stomach to my nipple, tweaking it through my thin tank, his eyes following his fingers in the motion.

I moan at the touch.

“Yes,” he whispers, “ . . . I want to hear that beautiful sound every chance I get.” His sensual touch glides back down my body, changing course along my panties, his fingers sliding across my folds through the cotton.

I’m breathless, unable to control the small moans of pleasure that escape my lips. How quickly this man has the ability to make me incoherent to anything but his touch. I’m insatiable for him.

Sitting forward, he tightens his arm around my waist, sliding my panties out of the way before plunging two fingers deep inside me. I scream at the invasion, my hands securing tightly in his hair as he sucks my nipple through the material of my top.

This is unbelievable. I’m already feeling the orgasm build within me. Who knew I was capable of experiencing not two, but three, orgasms within such a short period of time? Who am I kidding? Who knew Alexander Tate was capable of
giving
me three orgasms within such a short period of time. This man is a god.

I gasp as he bites down lightly on my cotton-covered nipple, puckered under the wetness of the thin material. With his fingers relentlessly stroking inside me, his thumb circling my clit, I’m unable to hold off. I come violently, shaking in his arms—arms that secure tighter around my waist, holding me upright as my knees give out from the force of my orgasm.

Pushing up from the chair, he takes me in a fervent kiss, walking me backwards to my seat before gently setting me down. He kneels slightly before me, looking into my eyes. “I’d like to reserve all your moans for me,” he smiles, a look of dark desire flashing in his blue irises. “Now eat.”

It’s impossible to miss his hardened erection pushing against his black boxers, as he returns to his chair. Seemingly ignoring his state of arousal, he picks up his fork to resume eating as though he didn’t just give me another earth-shattering orgasm.

I note a cheeky smile float across his face between bites. He’s proud of himself. And so he should be. The man is unbelievably talented. Not just professionally, or in his stunning good looks, but his exceptional abilities in the bedroom.

Men should hate him and his godly perfection but they don’t; his collection of movie roles appealing to both sexes earning him admiration from men and women alike. He seems too perfect to be real. Dream-like even.

“So, you never did tell me, why London?” he asks.

Oh no. How do I answer that? I can’t very well tell him about Liam—that I left my husband and ran away from my life in hopes of another. He’ll judge me. I’m not ready to discuss that with anyone, let alone him. Regardless of whether we’ve just had sex. Hell, I’m still trying to catch my breath.

“Well, like I said, I wanted a change. Stacey comes here for work quite often, so London just made sense.”

“So, Stacey works for Intercontinental?”

“Technically she works for IHG—Intercontinental Hotel Groups.” I’m grateful that she’s taken over as topic of conversation.

“Was she able to secure your reservation for the next two weeks?”

“I wish. I can stay until Friday then I’ll transfer to another hotel until I can move into Amira’s flat. Thank you again by the way, for setting that up.”

“Again, it was my pleasure. Any excuse to see you,” he winks.

Tossing a French fry at him, I reply on a laugh, “Well, you
were
relentless in your pursuit, I’ll give you that. So, tell me about you . . . You live in London?”

“Yes, I live in Kensington, but I’m originally from Clove Campden. My parents are still there, along with my sister Anna and her husband Gerard. It’s a small place. When I was a kid I couldn’t wait to get the hell out of there,” he chuckles. “It wasn’t until I turned thirteen that my parents could afford to send me to boarding school.”

“Wow, how was that?” I’m intrigued, but not surprised given his prim and proper demeanor.

“Excruciating at first. As much as I wanted to get away from home, I missed my parents terribly. And, I wasn’t the most popular kid. I felt very alone.”

“You? Not popular?” That’s hard to imagine.

“Sadly, yes,” he laughs, “I was a chubby kid . . . kids can be cruel when they flex their social muscles.”

“Yes, they can. I was labeled the ‘chubby
’
sister, though it was the adults that were cruel more so than the kids.” I avert my gaze, suddenly embarrassed, and pissed off by the memory. I aim for deflection, “So, what did they call you? ‘Alexander the chubs’?” Alex folds his arms, seemingly amused. “No? I got it! ‘Chubby Tatters’?”

“It’s not funny, Aby.” He looks pissed.
Oh shit.
My heart skips a beat, and I feel my cheeks flush crimson. “I’m kidding,” he laughs, easing my mortification.

My mouth drops open before I recover, giving him the stink eye. “So, on the topic of
acting,
” I smirk, “ . . . clearly you’re a natural.” I throw another French fry his way. Catching it, he takes a bite, offering a sexy grin. “Did you always want to be an actor?”

“No, actually, I imagine I would have followed in the footsteps of my military family, if Ben hadn’t coerced me into trying out for a school production with him. I was hooked from there.”

“Ben?”

“Benedict Arnold, my best mate.”

“Was he with you at The Wellington Club?” I ask, recalling the attractive man’s stare.

“Yes, that was Ben. We met in boarding school and have been friends ever since. His Mum and Dad are also actors, so he was destined for the industry. Not that he needs the money. With his parents’ success, he’s always had the luxury of living the high life, and I admit is a little spoiled because of it,” Alex finishes with a genuine, heartfelt smile. “Anyway, we made the acting journey together, though I’ve always felt he held himself back a little for me. With his family’s money, the sky was the limit for him, next to my scraping by existence.”

“Are you making allowances for his lack of notoriety?” I can’t even recall a film that Ben may have had a role in, though his name is vaguely familiar—unlike Alex, every woman’s fantasy crush.

“No, not at all. He’s a brilliant actor, his time will come. I do envy him the limited harassment he gets though. He can still go to the market in peace. Although, that being said, he would love the attention,” he laughs. “I, on the other hand, never really had a desire to be in the spotlight. It’s been quite an adjustment over the past few years since my career took off.”

“I can’t imagine,” I try to empathize, his cute attempts at going unnoticed in his ball cap suddenly making sense.

“I just remind myself that it’s part of the job, for the fans. And even the paparazzi have a family to feed.” A look of compassion and understanding graces his stunning face. “Unfortunately, it seems I can be doing absolutely nothing and they’ll still splash my face on the cover of newspapers. I’ll never understand that. I’m a pretty boring bloke,” he finishes with a shy smile.