Hanging On (12 page)

He hovered over her, resting his weight on one elbow. His free hand drifted lower, parting the folds of her pussy to glide over the wetness there.

He pressed harder, gently scraping away the thick moisture. The nub was dough under strong, hot fingers. Then he moved lower, slipping two fingers inside. She gasped, arching against him. His thumb rotated around her throbbing clit as he slowly thrust his fingers in and out, in and out.

He leaned up, watching her face while he worked her body. She writhed, pumping her hips in time with the pace he set. Her breathing came faster, and he increased his tempo, upping the ante until she cried out, lifting from the bed in orgasm, her eyes locked to his.

He rolled away from her, missing the surprise in her eyes at his sudden absence. She wanted him back, on top of her and inside her. It was gone when he rolled again, condoms in hand, and slid out of his boxer briefs.

He slapped a plastic rectangle in her hand. “I like when you put it on me.” He settled onto his back, and she rose to her knees, which were still trembling, next to him.

She unrolled it slowly, enjoying the way he jerked and pulsed under her light touch. Straddling him, she positioned that thick cock at her opening.

She intended to glide down him just as slowly, but he thrust suddenly upward and pulled her down at the same time.

He chuckled as her mouth opened in surprise. She flexed, tightening around him in a way that turned his chuckle into a husky groan. “God, Sophia. I’ve never wanted a woman the way I want you.” She concentrated on the feel of him inside so she wouldn’t have to think about what he said. He would say things like that to all of his lovers. Drew would have no problem meaning it at the time. His feelings would change when he left in the morning. It was a passing thing. It had to be.

Wordlessly, she rocked on him, once, then twice before stopping. She was too close to coming. She needed to pull back a little, or she wouldn’t push him over the edge with her.

Drew sat up, kissing her as she began to rock on him again. He was too close, inhibiting her movements, so she pushed him back against the bed.

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She wandered the length of his chest with one hand as she leaned forward for leverage.

Tension built, coiling tighter and tighter inside her, until she burned.

Beneath her, Drew lifted his hips, thrusting to the rhythm she dictated, his hands squeezing her hips as tiny moans slipped from between his swollen lips. Even though they weren’t playing a scene, he let her have control, knowing instinctively she couldn’t surrender to him. Throughout it all, he watched her, never closing his eyes to concentrate on the sensations inside or to block her out. Instead of distracting her from her goal, his intense interest drove her higher. She liked being watched by him.

She slipped her free hand between her legs, rubbing against her pulsing clit until he pushed her hand away to take over. He was gentle and considerate, giving her everything he had. She didn’t know how much more she could take.

She altered the rhythm, lifting herself to slam down along his length.

Sounds of her cries and his mixed with the soaked slapping of the wetness between them. The cries came faster and louder as the tension climaxed and exploded. Sophia convulsed, squeezing him until he cried out, lifting her from the bed. She collapsed against him. It was her last coherent action until her body cooled.

Awareness returned. His chest was warm and damp beneath her cheek.

The masculine smell of him assaulted her senses. She could have drowned in him and not minded. Gingerly, she lifted herself from him to crumple on the bed. She was immensely glad that he didn’t try to caress her skin or kiss her or talk to her. Now that she was sated, she wanted to have no use for him. She wanted him to fade into her memory.

After a little while, he got up and disposed of the condom. Dimly, she heard the toilet flush. When the bed dipped next to Sophia, she opened her eyes to look up at him. His lips were swollen, and his eyes were still heavy-lidded with passion. He regarded her possessively. She resisted the urge to trace her fingers along the line of his jaw. His sky-blue eyes wandered over her body, his gaze caressing her and turning her on again.

She did nothing to encourage him, returning his stare dispassionately, as if she felt nothing. She wanted to feel nothing. If he reached for her, the lies in her eyes would be revealed.

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Something flickered in his eyes, determination, desperation, and defeat.

When he turned away, she slid her hand down her stomach. She reached between her legs to finish what he started. She had ridden him hard and enthusiastically. Her orgasm had pulsed around him, milking him for all he was worth, and now she was masturbating. Never had a man given her so much and left her wanting so much more. A soft sigh escaped, and he turned back.

Drew watching her masturbate drove her higher than she could have achieved on her own. Her brow creased in concentration, and her rhythm became erratic. He hardened watching her.

Her eyes roamed his face. She took his hand in hers and guided it between her legs. She finished masturbating using his hand as her prop.

The light he’d left on in the hallway spilled over his face, highlighting the planes and angles there. “I want you again.” Sophia ran her hand over his thigh and traced the length of his erection with her nail. “You can have me until I pass out from exhaustion, but you’ll probably pass out first.”

Drew lifted a brow at her challenge. “I have amazing stamina.” Sophia propped herself up on one elbow, recalling that last time they had been limited by plans she had made in the evening. Now they had all the time in the world. “So do I.”

He kissed the tip of her nose. “Is your vibrator downstairs?”

“That’s cheating.” The small smile on her face cushioned her accusation.

The smoke in his eyes didn’t hide the flames. “Not if you’re using it while I fuck your breasts.”

Looking down, Sophia regarded her chest skeptically. There wasn’t much there. “I’m not sure that’s possible.” Drew’s smile was wicked. “Trust me, Sophia, it’s possible.” She motioned to the drawer in her nightstand. “I keep one in there.” He extracted it and a tube of warming gel. Reading the side of the label, he asked, “Is this okay for men to use?” She laughed and took it from him. Squirting a generous amount on her palm, she coated his erection and used the extra on herself. Instantly, her sopping pussy heated. She arranged herself on the bed with her knees up and legs spread wide.

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“Are you going to watch?” She wanted him to watch.

Drew nodded, his eyes never leaving the vibrator. He watched as she slid it inside and turned the dial. She moved her hips, languidly thrusting against the machine. With her free hand, Sophia grasped his cock, sliding her palm up and down the shaft, slowly working the gel into his skin. He fondled her breasts until her nipples pebbled. Then he straddled her, positioning his erection between the swells there, which he pushed together until they enveloped him tightly.

He was right. It was possible.

Thrusting slowly, he matched her rhythm. He moved faster, and so did she, her cries growing louder and louder until she came.

She pushed away his hands and held herself around him, adding firm caresses to his experience. Drew leaned forward, resting his weight on his hands above her head. She reveled in the power she had over him. It was a woman’s power, not exclusive to a dominatrix, but something she had because he wanted her.

She watched him, fascinated by the way his lips parted and moved, as if they had something to say that he didn’t know about. On a whim, she spoke to him, her voice just above a murmur. The words meant nothing, but the effect was tremendous. He breathed faster, his cheeks stained magenta as he strained and her words drove him higher.

Watching someone come had never touched Sophia so profoundly.

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Sophia woke to the familiar bass line of “Under Pressure.” Without opening his eyes, Drew scooted to the edge of the bed. His arm reached to the floor, groping for his phone.

“Drew Snow.” His voice was a hoarse croak. Given all the shouting he had done until the early morning hours, Sophia was only surprised that his greeting wasn’t grouchy.

Sliding from bed, she stretched sore muscles. He hadn’t lied about having stamina. She could wield a whip for hours, but rarely did she have anyone between her thighs for very long.

“I told you not to put that on the menu. It’s not ready.” Now he sounded grouchy. “I haven’t perfected the recipe.” Sophia headed to the kitchen and put on the coffeemaker before she jumped into the shower. The hot spray loosened some of her overworked muscles. Her night job was physical, and she taught self-defense classes, but it had been a long, long time since she had been this sore. Drew’s sexual appetite was voracious. She could easily see how he had come to have the reputation he had. One woman wasn’t enough for him. Already her brain was choreographing scenarios for threesomes.

Every single one of them ran headlong into the limitations he put on them. Ten minutes later, she twisted her hair into a wet knot at the nape of her neck and headed to the kitchen for coffee. The smell of something warm and inviting wafted around the corner into the hallway, hurrying her. The house was a modest-sized three-bedroom ranch, though the third bedroom could double as a walk-in closet. The kitchen was only steps from the hallway.

Rounding the corner, she stopped in the doorway. Drew stood in front of the stove, wearing only his jeans, which he hadn’t bothered to button. The
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trail of blond hairs leading from his navel disappeared into his boxers. Her eyes fastened on the barrier, and she fought the urge to touch him there.

“I have to go to work,” he said as he lifted the pan to shake it the way practiced chefs do, with just a dish towel around the handle for protection.

Sophia tried it once and ended up with a huge mess to clean and a mild burn on the heel of her hand. “My
sous-chef
is getting a little too big for her britches. She wants to put my Hawaiian Chicken on the catering menu, and it’s not ready.” He set the towel on the counter and sipped at the mug of coffee he had poured. “Maybe I should let you put her in her place for me.

It’ll save me a few dozen arguments.”

Sophia tore her eyes away from his pelvic area. He faced the stove, so his side was to her. Luckily, he hadn’t noticed the way she had been staring at him. His eyes were glued to whatever was in the pan.

“You don’t owe me an explanation.”

Now he looked at her. She avoided meeting his eyes. Propelling her feet forward, she slipped in on the other side of him to pour some coffee.

“Sophia…” His voice trailed off. “I’m making crepes.” That wasn’t what he was going to say. She was glad he decided not to force the issue. “I don’t expect you to cook, either.” His arms came down on either side of her, resting his hands on the counter to block her in. She felt his breath on her neck, but he didn’t touch her at all. “‘Thank you’ is the correct response. Maybe later you can move on to something like, ‘I’ve never had anything so heavenly in my mouth before,’ or ‘You’ve earned that five-star chef rating, Drew.’ You can even offer to cook breakfast next time.”

Sophia swallowed. He was right. Intimacy like this made her edgy. It wasn’t his fault, and she was behaving badly. “I just don’t want you to think I expect you to cook for me.” It was a poor apology, but Drew accepted it anyway.

“I’m perfectly aware that you only want me for my body.” He squeezed her ass in an exaggerated display of making a pass and turned back to the stove. “Go wait at the table like a good girl. Later, you can brag to all of your friends that the hottest chef on TV made breakfast for you.” She laughed out loud at that. Many of her pitifully few friends had already reaped the fringe benefits of knowing Drew. Before she was seated,

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he plated the crepes, rummaging with uncanny accuracy through her cupboards for things like sugar and toothpicks.

He set the plate before her. Crepes weren’t in her vocabulary, so she didn’t know what to expect. They looked like thin pancakes wrapped around a fruit filling. The energy she expended the previous evening had been considerable, and she was famished. She dug in. They were heavenly, just as he predicted. Her plate was clear before he was half finished.

Drew stared at her dubiously. “I think I need to feed you when you’re less hungry. There’s no way you tasted anything.”

“It was good,” she assured him.

He let loose a long-suffering sigh. “Remind me not to let you write my reviews.”

She smiled, again. That was her first glimpse of his sense of humor. It had been far too long since one of her lovers made her laugh. Given the serious nature of her usual “relationship,” the lack of mirth wasn’t surprising.

“Mouthwatering,” she teased. “A sensual feast, perfect for the morning after.”

“It’s afternoon,” he pointed out between bites. “And if I didn’t have to go to work and murder Maya, then this would just be a refueling break.

We’re not out of condoms yet.”

She waved away that concern, a smile never leaving her face. “That’s only cause for a run to the store.”

Drew’s mood shifted, suddenly somber. “Should I stop by the store on my way back here tonight, or are you going to come to my house?” The way he looked at her stole her breath. It was as if nothing in the world mattered to him more than her answer, her assurance they would be together again. “I work until two tonight,” she said. “I heard you tell Jonas you had an early call tomorrow.”

He closed his eyes and rubbed at his forehead. “In New York. I’m cooking for Matt Lauer, and then doing a couple of book signings. My flight is tonight at nine. I completely forgot.” It was a heady feeling to know that being with her made him forget a national television appearance. Growing panic made her snap out of it relatively quickly. “I’m teaching a class Saturday morning. Then Sabrina
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has us all at a spa for most of the day, and I work Saturday night. How about Sunday?”

Not seeing him for seventy-two hours should be enough time to acclimate to not having a lover on her usual terms. She needed time to rationalize the anxiety she felt at not being the one completely in control.

Drew, as she found out, liked a variety of sexual positions. Some of them cast her as the leader, and some of them did not.

Outside of the bedroom, he was different as well. The few lovers she had allowed to sleep in her bed after a night’s passion were ejected early the next morning. Drew was behaving more like a boyfriend. She needed to find solid ground. He wasn’t going to let her do that if he stayed too long.

He nodded to her suggestion. “I’d like you to come to my place,” he said. “I want to make dessert on you and lick it off slowly.” Heat rushed between her thighs. She clamped them together tightly, intensifying the sensation. Restless, she jumped up to clear away Drew’s cooking mess, which wasn’t very much. He cleaned as he cooked.

She needed things to be less intense. “Drew, last night you said you wanted to have threesomes, but then you said you don’t want me sleeping with anyone else and that you had no interest.” He joined her, handing over his empty plate to be rinsed and loaded into the dishwasher. “It doesn’t count if I’m there,” he said. “I understand that you not only like to dominate your sex partners, but that you need to do it.

That’s a need I can’t fulfill for you in the way you would like, Sophia. Invite your submissives to join us. I like to watch you do your thing, and I’d love to join in the sex play.”

“Most of them are men,” she warned. He had only seen her with Livia.

Drew shrugged and leaned against the counter next to the sink. “I’m bisexual, honey. It won’t be my first time.” She’d heard rumors, but she didn’t like to rush to conclusions. “Are you a top or a bottom?”

“If there are three of us,” he said, watching her closely, “I can be a top and a bottom. Whatever turns you on more.” The image of him inside one of her subs while she took him from behind ruined her panties for the day. Sophia closed her eyes at the rush of desire, opening her mind to a dozen more sexual combinations possible for

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two men and a woman. Mostly, it was the things she could do to Drew that heated her.

The rush of water from the faucet ceased. Her eyes flew open, and she stared uncomprehendingly at the place from which water should have been flowing. Slowly, Drew’s hands on her arms turned her toward him. She felt his breath tickle her neck. His teeth grazed her earlobe, sending jerky shivers to her core.

She sighed his name. “I thought you had to get to work?” He pressed her pelvis to his, rubbing the thick bulge there against her as his hands kneaded her ass. “When you look at me like this, Sophia, I can’t seem to go anywhere.”

Passion exploded through them. She didn’t bother with seduction or teasing. Thrusting her tongue into his mouth, she mastered him, bending him to her will. She wanted to shut him up before he started praising her beauty and telling her how she made him tremble. She wasn’t clueless, she could see the way she affected him. Comfortable with his attraction to her, he didn’t bother to hide anything.

He lifted her, carrying her the few steps to the kitchen table on which they had just dined. His large, strong hands ripped away her shorts and panties before laying her across the hard surface. She needed this roughness, this completely untamed and unromantic fuck. She needed to know he saw her as a sexual object, not as something more.

Drew fished a condom from his pocket and pushed his open jeans down just enough to free his engorged cock. The table was pushed against the half wall that separated the kitchen from the living room. Raising her hands above her head, Sophia braced herself against the wall just in time. Drew’s first thrust was that of a man possessed.

Gone was the gentle lover whose lips and hands roamed her body tenderly the night before. In his place was the fierce not-a-sub she’d teased to frenzy. She had the power to drive him up the sheer face of the cliff or deny him that sweet release. She was in complete control, and they both knew it.

For Sophia, there wasn’t a more powerful aphrodisiac on the planet. She came in seconds, the seizures in her vaginal walls holding him tightly and pulling him deeper. He lifted her legs, hooking her knees over his shoulders to meet those demands.

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The orgasm lengthened, intensifying and wringing loud cries from them both.

“The things you do to me,” Drew gasped, his thrusts coming faster and faster, lifting her from the table. “Oh, God, Sophia, the things you do to me.”

Heat spiraled out of control. Flames consumed her. Blackness closed in, obscuring her peripheral vision, and then stealing her sight completely. She screamed as the next orgasm took her, a monsoon washing over her very being.

Sometime later, her senses began to return. The table was cold and hard against her back. Drew was both inside and on top of her. His face rested between her still-covered breasts. He wasn’t moving. Her dominatrix instincts kicked in. Tilting his face to the side so he could breathe, she checked his vital signs and took his pulse.

“If you pry open my eyes, I will bite you,” he warned, raising his head to meet her eyes with his warm ice-blue stare.

She checked his pupil response anyway. The habit was too deeply ingrained.

Drew lifted himself, reaching out a hand to help Sophia up. She snatched her panties and shorts from the floor and put them on. Being soaked, they were a temporary covering.

He turned away to dispose of the condom and swore.

“What’s wrong?” she asked as she buttoned and zipped.

“Condom broke.”

Her breathing stopped. She licked at her lips and stared at Drew’s back.

It only took a couple of seconds to pull herself together, but time slowed so much that it seemed a couple of hours. “Broke as in I should pay close attention to my next period, or broke as in you spilled semen all over the floor?”

He washed his hands before turning to face her. She didn’t know what he saw, but she was doing her damndest to hide any emotion. “The first one.”

She glanced at the calendar hanging from the refrigerator. She was due for one in a little over a week, which put them in a questionable position, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. “Have you been tested for STDs?”

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He nodded, watching for a reaction she wasn’t going to show. “I’m clean.”

“So am I,” she said, affecting a nonchalance she didn’t feel. “I’ll pick up a different brand for Sunday. Do you have any preferences?” Incredulity wrinkled his brow. “You
are
on the Pill.” It was an accusation.

Sophia shook her head. The nightmare that was her interview with the prosecuting attorney reached its claws from her past to clamp around her heart, rendering her ice inside and out. She had been on the Pill, then. It only gave strength to the defense’s claim that it was consensual, preplanned. The accusation was her revenge for being dumped afterward, or at least that’s how the defense had framed it.