DEBT (17 page)

"Except I have no job and no income."

"But you got me. Maybe not for long. Hell, maybe just for the night. But it'll be worth it."

"You keep saying that," I said, smiling a little. "I have yet to see any proof."

"Is that so?" Byron asked, his tone a little teasing. He shifted beneath me slightly and I felt the hard outline of his cock press against the juncture of my thighs, promising all sorts of proof.

"It is," I insisted, focusing every bit of attention I had into stopping myself from squirming against him.

"So that night on the couch..."

"Hardly proof," I shrugged.

"Perhaps you need a little refresher?" he asked, his hand sliding toward the inside of my thigh and gliding up, gripping the very highest part of my inner thigh, his pinkie fingers almost brushing my panties, but not quite.

"That might be, ah," I tried, but lost my train of thought as his fingers sank in hard.

"Prudent?" he suggested, his chest rumbling a little with a chuckle.

"Byron..."

"Byron, what?" he asked, his fingers raking over the soft, sensitive skin, making my thighs press together to try to ease the ache, strong and insistent, there.

"Byron please," I said, head turning to the crook of his neck, breathing him in.

Then just like that, his finger pressed into my panties, stroking exquisitely over my clit. I slammed back against him, my back arching slightly, my mouth opening on a silent moan.

"I wanna hear you," he demanded, his finger stroking again. And even if I wanted to, there was no way to keep the whimper inside. "There it is. But I think we can do better," he said, his finger briefly leaving my clit so his hand could slide up and then under my panties, sliding up my slit and moving gently across my clit, just barely a whisper of a touch, but it was enough to make me groan softly. Beneath me, I could feel his cock getting harder against my ass. Then, without warning, his finger slid back downward and slid all the way inside me, making me cry out his name. "Fuck yeah," he groaned, starting to fuck me with his finger, the pace frantic, constant, driving me upward hard and fast. "Give it to me," he demanded, his thumb moving up to stroke over my clit as his pace quickened. Then, just like that, I gave it to him, clenching hard around his finger as I choked out his name. As soon as the waves stopped, I lost his fingers. "Turn, babe," he demanded.

"I..." I started, shaking my head, not quite ready for thought.

"Turn," he said, grabbing my hips and helping me do so. His hands went to my knees, using them to coax my legs around his sides, before they slid to my ass and used it to bind me against him, his cock rubbing against me. Despite still being sated from my orgasm, I could feel the need growing again, clawing, a tightness in my core, a heaviness in my breasts. "Don't need this anymore," he said, his hands sliding up my spine, snagging the band of my bra, and making short work of the clasps. He reached up and slid the straps off my shoulders and pushed me back to remove the material from my chest. His eyes slid slowly downward and settled on my breasts, his hands moving up to settle at the sides of them. "Fuck, perfect."

His hands slid inward, cupping my breasts and moving his thumbs over the slowly-hardening nipples. He took them between his thumbs and forefingers, rolling them with perfect pressure until they were in painful points. My hips sank lower against him, rocking back and forth to ease the throbbing need. My hands moved up, one settling on his shoulder, the other going to the back of his neck as I lowered my face toward his, too wrapped up to feel insecure about initiating. Beneath my lips, his were surprisingly passive, letting me set the pace and pressure, letting me lead. But I didn't need him to lead. The second my lips met his, I lost every drop of insecurity, of uncertainty. I angled my head and deepened the kiss. My tongue pushed into his mouth to claim his, small whimpers escaping me as my hips ground against him until my breasts lost his hands as I was crushed to his chest, his hands going up into my hair, pulling it from its tie and sinking in.

A minute later, my body poised for an impossible second orgasm, his hand curled into the strands and used them to yank me back. "Like to finish this here, babe, but my condoms are in my pants and my pants are out there and we aren't at the point where raw is an option so it's time to get out."

"It's cold out there," I grumbled, moving off his lap.

"It's seventy-degrees out."

"And it's like a hundred in here," I objected, watching him turn and climb out of the tub, the water cascading down his body.

He turned back to me, brow raised like he had expected me to immediately follow him out. When I didn't, he nodded. "One minute," he said, walking mostly naked toward the closest cabana. He came back less than a minute later, still just in his wet boxer briefs that, I noticed, did absolutely nothing to hide his erection, but with a big white fluffy towel held out for me. "Come on," he said, jerking his chin up at me.

I swallowed hard against the ridiculous urge to feel self-conscious. So what if I was almost fully naked? He had just been touching my breasts in the hot tub. It was stupid to feel that swirly sensation in my belly. I exhaled and stood up, watching as Byron's eyes raked over me slowly before coming up to settle on my eyes. I climbed out and he wrapped the towel around me, holding the ends closed at the front with both his hands. "What?" I asked when I couldn't take the inspection any longer.

He shook his head, like he was trying to clear it, then dropped his hands from the towel and turned away back toward the cabana. "Grab my wallet," he called to me, making me stiffen a little.

Grab his wallet?

And then follow like an obedient little dog?

He got to the doorway and turned, head cocked to the side, smirk on his lips, like he knew what he was doing, like he knew it pissed me off when he did that alpha shit, but that a part of me responded to it. And all of me responded to him physically. With a huff, I bend toward his pants and fished out his wallet, pointedly keeping my gaze from his face because I knew he would be giving me that cocky smirk and I just didn't want to see it.

Finished, I stood to find him already inside the cabana. I had no idea what the cabanas were like inside. Matt hadn't opened any of them on our tour of the grounds. He'd simply explained that they were completely closed in unlike tropical cabanas because of the harsh winters. That was all I knew about the gorgeous white hexagonal structures.

I guessed I was about to find out a lot more, I decided as I got close to the doorway.

I took a breath and stepped inside to find perfectly beachy white shiplap walls and rustic wide-planked gray-stained hardwood floors. To the left in the small space was a counter with a drink fridge and sink. Directly inside the door was a white wood cabinet stuffed with white towels. And directly in front of me was a round outdoor daybed with white pillows. And, well, sitting on top, boxer briefs completely discarded, cock standing hard and expectant, was Byron.

He was at the end, feet hanging over, eyes watching me as I quickly took everything in and focused on him. "Drop the towel," he demanded almost immediately, making a flush break out over my skin, both from arousal and embarrassment. I tossed his wallet onto the bed beside him but his eyes never left me as I released the one-hand hold I had on the white fabric and let it fall. There was a low, almost growling sound from his chest before he clipped out, "Panties too." There was nothing I could do about my furious blush as I bent and shimmied the soaked material down my legs and stepped out, taking perhaps a little longer than absolutely necessary to fully straighten again, pressing my thighs together tightly. "There's going to be no hiding tonight, Prue," he warned me, his tone deep, almost threatening. "Come here," he said, tone a little softer and I felt my feet moving toward him before I was aware of telling them to do so. I stopped a few inches away from his knees, waiting.

His hands landed at the sides of my knees and drifted lazily upward until they reached my hips, landing there and pulling slightly, "Come on," he said, voice sexy-rough, and I slowly lowered myself down onto his lap, feeling his cock press into my belly. Unsatisfied with the careful distance I put between us, his hands landed mid-back and crushed me against him, my hard nipples pressed into his chest, my sex pressing against the base of his cock. I gasped at the contact as his hand grabbed the back of my neck and crushed my lips to his. There was no giving me the lead, no tentativeness, no submission. He set the pace and pressure. His head slanted. His teeth nipped. His tongue invaded. It was more than dominance; it was consumption. He consumed me. Leaving behind only a achy, needy, desire-filled shell of the woman I once was.

His body moved backward, his hands holding me against him, so I moved with him, my body sprawling over his as his back hit the cushions of the round day bed. His hand dug into my neck for a long minute before sinking into my hair, curling into it, then yanking until my head moved backward several inches, the sting in my scalp somehow sending a shock of desire in a line down to my core, making my sex clench hard. "Feel how wet you are already?" he asked, his voice gravelly, his eyes heavy, as his hand on my hip pulled me against the length of his cock, sharing my wetness with him. "Time to get a taste," he declared, throwing his weight up and sending my back onto the mattress.

As soon as I was flat, he was over me, his wide palms pressing and holding my thighs spread wide for him, his body shifting and lowering. And then I felt his mouth on me, every bit as hungry as it had been with my mouth, giving no gentleness, no hesitance. More consuming. More confident exploration. His tongue lavished over my clit in circles, vertically, horizontally, keeping me guessing and driving me upward hard and fast until my whimpers became moans and my moans became gasps. His tongue traveled downward when I was sure the swirling need was going to be satisfied, curling in on itself then thrusting inside me. My hips jerked as my hand fell onto the back of his head, realizing what was happening, what he was doing: he was literally fucking me with his tongue. No one had ever done anything quite so unexpected, so primal, so erotic to me before.

"Oh, my God," I groaned as his tongue thrust into me over and over, the action familiar but the sensation entirely new. His hand moved up above his mouth and started working my clit again until, literally just seconds later, my body exploded into a thousand tiny, overwhelming shocks, making my thighs shake and my back arch completely off the cushions as my sex clenched over and over and I realized I was coming around his tongue, the thought sending off another small, but intense shock before I was spent and fell back against the bed, gasping hard for the air I hadn't realized I hadn't been breathing.

His lips kissed up my sex then my belly until I felt his chin plant right above my navel and I looked down to see him watching me from his lowered position, eyes still heavy, still dark, still promising more. "Sweet," he concluded and that one word made my belly flutter again. I hadn't noticed his arm moving, but when he suddenly sat up, sitting back on his heels, the condom foil was in his hands and he was deftly ripping it open and quickly protecting us.

He sat there long enough for me to feel the insecurity start to break through the heavenly aftermath of an orgasm. "What?" I asked when he just kept looking at me.

To that, his lips tipped up, looking both amused and devilish at the same time. "Trying to decide how far I can push it for a first time," he told me honestly, making my belly clench.

How far he could take it for a first time?

How far?

Meaning what?

I never stopped to consider that Byron might be into things that maybe I had never been exposed to before. But, as I thought of it then, it made sense. Men like Byron: powerful, confident, experienced men, it usually went to follow that they were experimental. And I had been decidedly... not. It just had never been a thing before. I hadn't really given it much thought. Sex was a part of relationships and I generally followed the lead and, as I mentioned, the men I dated were, well, on the boring side. That continued into the bedroom. Not that they were insufficient or unsatisfying, they were just... adequate. Normal.

I should have known that being with Byron meant it would be anything other than normal.

Words like adequate and average didn't even seem like they could exist within his vocabulary.

And somehow, that both thrilled and terrified me.

Then, for perhaps the first time in my life, the thrill of the unknown overpowered the fear of it. "However far you want to take it," I said quietly.

Apparently that was the right thing to say. His eyes, already deep, darkened. The amusement left his smile and then his face lost the smirk completely. His hand reached out and grabbed my ankle, lifted it from the side of his body and pressed it against my other leg then, using both hands, cocked both legs up and placed them on the mattress to my side, locked together tight. His hips shifted, his wild eyes were on mine.

He thrust forward once, filling me to the hilt.

It was so unexpected, so rough that I heard myself whimper as my body jolted at the sudden invasion. My walls stretched around him with a slight burning sensation at the intrusion. His hand slid up my belly and grabbed my breast, squeezing once before taking the nipple between two fingers, pinching, then pulling up hard. The pain was like a tearing, sharp, then throbbing. But just as it coursed through me, his cock withdrew then slammed forward, confusing my overwhelmed body with pleasure and pain at the same moment and making a small moan escape me. Encouraged, his other hand raised and created the same conflict with my other breast as his thrust got fast, frantic, harder.