Blurred (Connections #3.5)

Blurred (Connections #3.5) Page 12

I heard myself groan loudly as her teeth grazed under my cockhead and her hand grabbed the base. When my throbbing dick hit the back of her throat, I forgot all about where we were and even who we were and just took what she was giving. “Oh yeah, like that, just like that,” I said to her and dropped my head back.

Most guys start getting blowjobs young, but Dahl and I had been together forever and she never liked to give them. So unless she was really drunk or I begged for it, it wasn’t part of our sex life. And the few times she had attempted it, she never took it very far.

I looked down. S’belle licked every inch of me, sliding her tongue up and down my length before taking me down her throat again. She worked her mouth, up and down, back and forth. She f**ked me so hard with that mouth, I couldn’t help but yell out, “Fuck, yes! Yeah, that’s it!” Fuck me, nothing could feel better than the way she slid my c**k from one side of her mouth to the other, then down to the back of her throat. “Oh yeah, baby, that’s it, that’s it.” When I was close, I put my hands on the back of her head and guided her. She didn’t pull away—and there was nothing I wanted more than to come in her mouth. “Oh f**k!” The last strokes of her tongue made me explode. I filled her mouth and as she swallowed she still didn’t stop. I f**king loved it—the feeling that shot through my body was like anything I’d ever felt. I kept the pressure on her head for a few more seconds before letting go of everything as satisfaction rippled through me.

When I let up, she sat back on her heels and I could see the evidence of my pleasure glistening on her lips. I was panting, spent, and so f**ked up, but all I knew was I wanted more.

During the ride she squeezes my waist tight when I whip around a corner. Her address turns out to be a nicely kept Spanish style apartment complex. She moves quickly to dismount as soon as I’ve turned off the engine but I reach my hand back. “From the left side, always from the left,” I say. She does as I ask and once her heels touch the sidewalk she whips her helmet from her head and her long red hair tumbles down her shoulders. Her cheeks are red from the cool air, but the smile on her face says what I know she clearly won’t—that she enjoyed herself.

“I’ll be right back,” she says and hands me the helmet.

I admire her ass as she enters the iron gate and disappears in the courtyard. Sitting alone, I allow myself to get lost in the memory of our night together.

“Are you okay?” she asks, having returned with a bag in hand.

I look up into those emerald green eyes. “Never better. Now hop on so I can get you to work on time.”

This time she grips my waist without hesitation—and as I steer out onto the road I feel a sense of happiness I haven’t felt in a long time.

When I pull over she hops off and hands me the helmet. “Thanks for the ride.”

She looks at her wrist again and I have to ask. “Why do you keep doing that?”

“What?” she asks.

“Looking at your arm.”

“Oh, I smashed my watch on a serving tray last week and can’t get used to not having it there.” She shrugs. “Habit, I guess.”

I nod in understanding.

“See you around.” She waves and heads toward the sliding doors.

“Bye, S’belle. See you around.” The whole situation is amusing to me because she obviously doesn’t know I’ll be attending the affair as well.

She turns and walks backward to continue the conversation. “My name is Bell.”

I grin and say nothing, thinking, “Sure thing, Red.”

Shaking her head, she turns her back to me. I glance at my watch. I have an hour to get back here so I pull into the street and race to my fleabag hotel to get changed for work. In the shower I turn the water on full blast. Steam from the hot water fogs the mirror by the time I’m done. I wipe it a few times and push my hair back with both hands. Alone in the bathroom, staring at myself, I see a reflection from a different time.

The curves of her beautiful br**sts, a face full of promises, wild hair, me slamming into her from behind as she leaned over the counter and I looked in the mirror. Moans of passion that I wasn’t sure were hers or mine. My body shaking . . . hers quivering. I had been drunk, sure, but I felt completely sober when my hands roamed her body. Her pu**y was so sweet I couldn’t get enough. Without any inhibitions, I told her all of my deepest sexual desires. She only smiled in response as I stood and brought her mouth to mine. I felt my dick throb.

With my body pressed up against hers, heat was everywhere, surrounding us. She pulled back and looked at me with clear eyes. “You’re not from LA, are you?” she asked.

“What makes you say that?”

“You just seem different.”

“Born and raised in Laguna.”

“On the beach. Was it fun?”

I ran my hands through my hair and quirked a smile. It wasn’t the time for conversation. My arms caged her body and my throbbing c**k rubbed against her thigh.

Her eyes roved up and down my body and she licked her lips before dropping her gaze. “I think I really like surfers.”

“Oh yeah, what makes you say that?”

She pushed the hair from my eyes before dropping her stare again. “Tan, sun-bleached hair, hot, and sexy.”

I moved closer and whispered in her ear. “This hot and sexy guy is done talking now. I want to f**k you.”

She traced her tongue along my lips and moaned. Breathing heavily she purred, “Please.”

I urged her closer. She was so wet I slid inside her with unabashed ease. She closed her eyes, but I had a strange need to see her while I f**ked her. I lifted her chin. “Look at me.”

We stared into the depths of each other’s eyes as I slowly moved in and back out so I could feel the thrill again. Each time I thrust in only felt better than the last. I could see in her eyes how much she was enjoying it and I was f**king loving it, too. Each plunge brought me closer to the brink. I tried to control myself but she was doing crazy things to me. When I could see she was close I said, “Come with me.”

She dug her nails into my back and wrapped her legs tighter around my waist. The sensation of filling her so deeply was unreal. She called out my name over and over and through gritted teeth I did the same. Once my orgasm subsided, I looked at myself in the mirror and was struck by a huge wave of guilt. Despite it, I closed my lids and felt my c**k swell. It wasn’t anywhere near done and neither was I.

“Hey, surfer boy.” She pulled my attention back toward her. “Can we do that again?”

“I plan to.” I pulled away and circled her like she was my prey. “Put your heels back on and show me again how you walked on the beach in the Riviera.”

Not sure what came over me, I wanted her do as I ordered—it made my heart beat faster and adrenaline flooded me. When she moved passed me, I pulled her flush to my chest. I traced my fingers along the silky fabric covering her cl*t and sucked on one of her ni**les. Her moans of pleasure made my dick ache but also made me feel like I was going to be able to do this all night long. I turned her around. “Watch us,” I told her, as I spread her legs and plunged into her from behind as we both looked on in the mirror.

Neither of us came but we weren’t done with each other when I stopped. Without a word, I picked her up and moved her to the bedroom. We fell to the mattress where I hovered above her and sucked her tits hard. I inserted two fingers inside her. I moved them in and out, faster and faster. She moaned. Next I used my tongue to plunge in and out of her pu**y. She cried out in pleasure. I f**ked her every way I could with a stamina I never knew I had. We f**ked in ways I never had before. She squeezed her br**sts together and I slipped my c**k in between them. I thrust in and out over and over. It felt f**king amazing. I yelled and grunted and groaned and when I finally came, I came hard. My whole body trembled.

The last thing I remembered before passing out was grabbing her h*ps and moving her as she rode me. I had one hand on her pu**y while the other hand cupped her full breast. She was screaming my name like a prayer as I massaged her cl*t and tugged her hard ni**les in unison.

When she started yelling, “That’s it, surfer boy, that’s it! Oh God, oh God, that feels so good!” I came deep and hard inside her.

When I woke up she was gone and my shirt blanketed my nakedness. The devil in me mourned her absence. But the larger part of me was relieved. The forbidden fruit was already bitten and I knew I needed to stay far away. One night with her had fulfilled every fantasy I ever had but I couldn’t risk my future on a fantasy.

Chapter 8

Counting Stars

The wedding festivities are in full swing when I arrive at the Montage a little late. I missed the announcements—too bad for me. I duck into the bathroom and loop my tie around my neck, thinking I don’t look all that bad—new tan suit, blue shirt. Except I wince at the sight of the tie in the reflection. Fuck the tie. I toss it in the trash and head to the bar to grab a quick drink before I go in search of the happy couple.

Once I throw back a quick one, I enter the grand ballroom and scope out the subtle signs of wealth and luxury. There are no tapestries, no grand, ornate, golden gilded mirrors, or fringed pieces of furniture that scream money. Instead S’belle did a great job of giving the couple what they wanted. Looking around I definitely feel like I’m in Nantucket—which was their wish. The elegant simplicity inherent in the wooden floors beneath the simple glass-cut chandelier at the center of the room only helps bring the blues and whites to life. Circular tables with toile tablecloths surround the dance floor with hydrangeas filling their centers in clear glass vases. Small candles are floating in water to illuminate the elegance of the fine table settings. And wicker chargers set the place setting for every guest. It’s very Ralph Lauren. Very Nantucket.

I spot the bride and groom immediately. Sloan lifts one hand in a vague gesture of hello. As I approach, her gaze meets mine and I try to ignore the familiarity in her greeting.

“Miss Bennett, how nice to see you again.” I take her hand and kiss it.

She manages to play along and seems just fine with me having paved the way to a drama-free night. “Mr. Covington, I am so glad you could make it. This is my fiancé, well, my husband now, Tike Rodale.”

I extend my hand and we exchange greetings. After a five-minute conversation with the groom I can see what the problem is—he’s definitely not into women. In fact, I’m pretty sure he wanted to make a pass at me. I retreat at the earliest opportunity and grab a glass of champagne from a waitress walking by. But Tike makes sure the circle containing the three of us stays tight. I continue to ask the questions I need answers to in order to write the column but he’s dragging out his answers and Sloan looks bored as shit.

Just as he finishes telling me how he proposed to his lucky lady, I hear the sound of throat clearing from behind me. I don’t even have to twist my head or look over my shoulder to know who it is. In an authoritative tone, she says, “Sloan, Tike, the photographer wants some photos of the two of you near the champagne fountain, if you don’t mind.” Tike pats me on the back before excusing himself. As if he forgot his bride, he doubles back to take Sloan’s hand in order to escort her to yet another picture perfect moment to memorialize the day.

S’belle’s eyes cut to mine and they seem a little softer than they did earlier today, and so does she. She’s changed and looks f**king amazing. Her low-cut green blouse highlights her eyes. Her short black skirt and matching jacket look professional, but sexy as hell. She’s holding a clipboard in one hand with a pencil tucked behind her ear and I have visions of her standing in front of me n*ked with those props. I quickly try to push them aside.

I can’t help but smirk at the spitfire standing in front of me. “Well, hello again.”