The Perfect Plans Series [Box Set] (42 page)

“He made me believe you would choose him over ‘simple, nobody’ me.”

Running his hands through his tussled hair, he takes a deep breath before resuming his seat at the table. “Aby, you’re most certainly
somebody
to
me,” he retorts, an oh-so slight hint of softness flickering in his eyes. “My anger is directed, for the most part, at Ben. In fact, I’m fucking pissed. But regardless of his contribution to my anger, it goes without saying that your decision to lie to me about something that pertains so highly to our relationship is, rather simply, unacceptable. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I didn’t lie.”

“Omitting is lying.”

Unsure how to respond, I opt for acquiescence—this man is hurting enough, “Duly noted. It won’t happen again.”

He isn’t budging.
Damn.
The one time I control my own defensiveness, it gets me nowhere. My Mother always said, ‘If you would stop being so defensive, Aby, things would probably go your way.’ Clearly she’s full of shit.

Maybe I should give Dave Chappelle a little credence and just start playing with my boobs? On that note, a little sexual innuendo teasing might be worth a try. What do I have to lose? “You know, you’re pretty hot when you’re angry,” I offer playfully, biting my lip.

“Hot?” he bites with incredulous intrigue. Though his anger hasn’t fully dissipated, I sense a slight sign of fascination at my sudden playfulness. That’s promising. Not that I’m opposed to taking my boobs out.

Continuing with my plan of distraction, I stand to retreat, heading in the direction of the living room. “Oh yeah
, hot,
” I reply, throwing a sly smile over my shoulder.

The abrupt screeching of his chair on the ceramic-tiled floor reverberates across the room. In a whirlwind of movement, he pounces, grabbing me without warning from behind. His strong arm wraps around my shoulder, palm flat against my chest, pulling me back against him to the attack of his lips and tongue.

Leaning my head back in abandon, I shudder at the burning fire of his kisses down my neck. Imprisoned in his grip, I’m slave to his onslaught, the sensual teasing brush of his hand across my nipple, instantly puckering beneath the material of my clothing.

“Alex . . . ” I gasp as he pins me against the wall, my palms instinctively bracing the cool surface. The intense sexual need this man evokes in me is mind-boggling. Sheer passion and abandonment to his evocative command overtakes me.

His lips return to my neck, wantonly feasting on my flesh, his hands gripping my hips, pulling firmly to arch me towards him. Gliding his palms down my side, he cups my pussy, lifting me to my tiptoes in the aggressive pull.

My breaths return in a heated pant. I’m lost in awe, surprised by my submissive relent to his incredibly sexy attack. I can’t sustain the exhilaration I feel at his startling display of virility and power.

He brushes my hair to the side, baring my tattoo to the amazing touch of his lips, tongue and teeth, sending explosive shivers down by spine. As though in momentary pause of his sensual rage, he gently kisses my shoulder, his lips lingering on my flesh.
“Omission or otherwise,” he whispers, continuing gently, but firmly, through clenched teeth, “Don’t. Ever. Lie to me.”

His words are my undoing. I’m left speechless, my senses intoxicated as I lose myself in this moment of erotic want and need. My body gives way to his touch, my ass arching back against his firmness, signaling I’m his for the taking.

At my clear invitation, he reaches for the closure of my jeans, unbuttoning and unzipping in rapid succession, his need and desire evident in his hurried task. Slipping his hand inside, he slides his fingers inside my soaked panties. His lascivious rubbing on my heated wet core leaves me reeling. Moaning, my head falls back against his chest. This man has the ability to render me absolutely defenseless to his desire. One touch and he leaves me needy, wanton.

His fingers slide through my wetness, curling instinctively inside me, my jeans inhibiting his full access. It’s a euphoric tease of sensation. In lustful abandon, I reach to slide the hindrance down my hips, my need to remove the clothing restraining his invading fingers palpable.

Abruptly pulling his fingers from my depths, he halts me, grabbing my hands in his to hold them firmly in place on the wall above my head. The adjustment pushes me flush against the cold surface, abrading my aching nipples through the thinness of my shirt, effectively heightening my desire further. It’s a shock of movement, an incredibly sexy motion, lessened only by the absence of his fingers in my pulsing wet pussy.

Giving my hands a quick squeeze to indicate that I keep them in place, he glides his palms down my arms, along my ribcage, reaching the hem of my shirt. Greedy fingers find my flesh beneath, moving upwards to my breasts, swiftly releasing them from the cups of my bra. The sensual grabbing and tugging of my nipples releases another abandoned moan from my breathless mouth.

I continue in submission, though I’m unable to resist pushing back against him harshly, gyrating uncontrollably. I want him to fuck me. Right here, right now.

Withdrawing his hands from my heaving breasts, leaving my nipples bereft, he returns one hand securely atop mine on the wall. I feel his other hand against my backside, fumbling at the zipper of his pants, followed by the swift tug of my jeans and panties to my knees. I startle at the sudden return of his hand at my core, his fingers finding their way back inside me, his access completely unrestricted.

“Are you
mine,
Aby?” he whispers in my ear heatedly, breathlessly, an edge of possessiveness to his tone that emits my immediate moan.

“Y-yes . . . I’m yours,” I manage, my body grinding back into him in agreement.

With a gentle bite at my neck, he releases my hands. Removing his fingers from my pulsing core, he grips my thighs tightly, wrenching me towards him. I gasp in welcome surrender as he thrusts inside me in one fluid motion, eliciting simultaneous groans. His large cock fills me. He’s so deep I swear I can feel him brushing my womb.

Pausing, he allows my body to adjust around him. In my eagerness, I push back, taking him deeper, his fingers tightening their hold of my hips, leaving what will surely be slight bruises on my delicate flesh. With a low growl, he pulls out slightly, pushing back in with force. I’m lost to the moment, the feel of him inside me, my hands using the wall as leverage to meet his thrusts halfway.

Biting down lightly on my shoulder, he swirls his huge cock inside me, triggering a shudder to wrack my body, a scream to escape my lips. My desire increases his ardor as he pumps in and out of me in earnest. This is a fast and furious fucking, and I love every minute of it.

His fingers return to my core, sliding across my clit in a circular motion. The sensations are almost too much, building my orgasm dramatically, dangling me over the precipice. Reaching for my nipple, he pulls and tugs roughly, the combination of pleasure and pain amid his continuous forceful thrusts effectively pushing me over the edge. My body convulses uncontrollably, my sex squeezing his cock in rhythm to my accelerated heartbeat. Releasing a guttural groan, a commanding
mine
falling from his lips, he thrusts inside a final time, holding still, shivers wracking his large body.

Panting in unison, we linger in the aftermath, his wide frame sagging against me. The weight of him against my satiated body feels exhilarating.

Pulling his semi-erect penis out of my throbbing core, its sudden absence jars me back to reality, the realization of the wild animal sex we just experienced setting in.
Maybe I should get Alex angry more often.
Turning my head towards him, I watch as he runs his hands through his hair, leaning his back against the wall beside me. He looks down, his hands lingering in his sexed-up curls, a pained expression donning his face. Confused by his sudden withdrawal, I bend to pull my panties and jeans back into place.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know where that came from . . . ” his words trail. “I was just so . . . ” leaving his words unspoken, he turns to look at me, cupping my face in his trembling hands. His fingers lace through my hair as he takes me in a kiss, pausing to whisper against my lips, “I just needed you.”

I return his anguished kiss, still reeling from the erotic encounter. “And I
needed
you,” I reassure him, lost in his blue eyes, still laced with torment. With a hint of relief apparent in his gaze, I grasp his tousled hair, pulling him into my kiss, whispering against his lips, “Please . . . don’t ever stop needing me.”

Lifting me swiftly in his strong arms, he carries me to the bedroom.

I OPEN MY eyes to Alex’s beautiful face staring down at me, leaning on his elbow, his cheek rested on his palm. “Good morning,” he smiles. A gloriously handsome sweet smile.

I’m instantly lost in that amazing face, a flush of warmth rushing through my body along with a flood of memories . . . The intoxicating rage-sex in the hallway; the gentle sensual way he made love to me here in his bed after; falling asleep in his arms. I smile at the visual of the savage beast in the hallway turned gentle seducer in the bedroom.

“What time is it?” I ask, his continued gaze pulling me back to real-time.

Leaning back, he reaches for the nightstand to grab his watch, all his glorious muscles flexing in their incredible sexy strength. The man is breathtaking at every angle. I restrain my need to touch every bulging ripple, every delicious contour. “Almost noon,” he replies, discarding his watch.

“Oh. We slept late,” I suddenly sense my body’s woozy agreement.

“We were up pretty late,” he adds with a heart-stopping grin, brushing a stray piece of hair across my forehead. His finger trails down my cheek, stopping in place at my jaw.

I must look like the mess I feel in my groggy state.

As if reading my mind—his secret charm that never ceases to amaze me—he tilts my head back with a whisper, “You look so incredibly beautiful right now,” his soft lips sensually invade my mouth.

I’m lost in the dance of our lips, our tongues, tingling all over at his touch that has become so familiar. This man melts me into want with such ease. And I could fall into him again, right now, so easily, except . . . ”I have to pee.”

He pulls back in surprise, that incredibly sexy, bandaged brow raised in boisterous amusement.

Out loud?
Seriously? I said that out loud? “Ummm, sorry, I . . . Ummm, will you excuse me?” I attempt to gain some form of lady-likeness, wanting to disappear from my embarrassment. Before allowing him any reply, I bolt out of bed and head for the bathroom.

Could you be any more embarrassing?
I question my reflection as I pass the vanity.
Humph.
I actually look pretty good,
I note at the same time—thank God for something.

Washing my hands, I spy Alex’s shirt on the floor. Donning it, I turn to the mirror. I look like a small child wearing her dad’s shirt. Running my hands down the button enclosure, the mind-blowing hallway sex flashes through my mind.
That would explain your sore ‘punani,’ darling
—my inner actress points out the sudden reminder between my legs. A deep yet delightful ache, now filled with tingles. I close my eyes at the memory, my fingers unconsciously retracing the trail of his down my neck and décolletage.

I can’t recall ever feeling the way he made me feel last night. With the exception of our first amazing sexual encounter, it was one of the most beautiful moments we’ve shared to date.
You’re one very lucky girl,
I think to myself, turning with anticipation to return to the man of my dreams in the other room.

I find Alex pulling on his gym pants. I’m glued in place, watching his gloriously supple ass disappear beneath the fabric. If only I had returned a few seconds sooner—I conjure the missed image in my mind, melting at the visual.

Busted in my ogling, he flashes me a knowing smirk. “Looks as though I missed the show as well,” he gestures to his dress shirt I’m wearing.

Trying to appear dubious to his ability to see through me, I walk to the bed to begin redressing it, teasingly throwing one of the cushions in his direction. He returns my efforts with one of his amazing smiles before turning to pick up his cell phone, its flashing red light indicating pending messages or possibly missed calls. I note his changed expression as he eyes the screen, unsure if it’s a response of alert, or . . . disgust?

Before I can even discern it, I’m startled by a loud rapping at the front door. An incessant knocking that grows louder with each bang. Rolling his eyes, Alex leisurely grabs a t-shirt before heading for the stairs, completely indifferent to the insistent pounding.

“Were you expecting someone?” I scurry to pull on my jeans, following quickly behind him.

“No, but I have a pretty good idea who it is,” his tone is suddenly clipped.

Ben wouldn’t be stupid enough to come here, would he?

Reaching the bottom of the stairs, I stand slightly behind Alex as he swiftly opens the door, effectively halting the never ending knocking.
Oh fuck, it’s Julia.

In my over-large shirt and jeans, I instantly feel inadequate at the sight of her impeccable form.
But it’s
Alex’s
shirt,
I remind myself in my need to feel close to him in the presence of the cheating whore—the ex that he’s clearly pissed at
.
How could that bitch ever cheat on him? At the reminder of Julia’s contribution to Alex’s anger, I realize this isn’t going to be good, and decide to bee-line for the kitchen.