him on a carnal level and throbs with residual sensation for him. I ache to finish what we’ve started—to be fully his when our bodies finally join as one.
Unrequited love sucks, but this is like opening the door to something exciting and wonderful. There are no longer doubts. No longer any endless pining for a man I thought couldn’t stand me. Now, I know he feels the same—has always felt the same. I guess there really is no stopping true love.
A sigh escapes me as I clasp my hands to my chest. I feel like every little girl in her own fairy tale. Only, I’m no longer a girl, and this story is, most definitely, not rated G.
And I can’t wait to see him naked. To touch him. To hold him. To taste him. I want to see his eyes roll to the back of his head as I return the favor of that powerful orgasm and make him come apart. I imagine his hooded eyes simmering with sensual hunger as I stroke his hardness and take him into my mouth. I want to feel his body shake and tremble as the last of his restraint falls away.
I’ve actually never done that—given a man a blowjob. Seems kind of strange, but my sexual experiences are somewhat limited, geared more toward the fucking part of sex rather than the discovery of everything that goes with it.
Sparks of delirious anticipation ignite within me as I eagerly look forward to the rest of our evening. It’s hard to wait, but I give him a few minutes before following him inside. The code to his suite sears itself into my brain, and my fingers itch to type out that code and enter his private domain. All the filthy things we can do there… They run through my mind, stealing my breath and making me giddy and eager for more.
I’ve never been in his private space before, but I’ve walked past it a million times, aching, wanting, and lusting over the man I could never get out of my thoughts and who starred in my dirtiest, most erotic fantasies. This feels forbidden, which makes it all the more exciting as a result.
I take my time swimming across the pool. Water sluices off my body as I step out. I take the skimpy sarong and tie it around my waist. Pulling one of the towels out of a cabinet, I wring out my hair and pat it dry as best I can. I don’t want to be dripping water all through the house. Like leaving a guilty trail behind me leading right to Spike’s room.
Yeah, that won’t do. No matter what happens, I need to be mindful of keeping our secret.
A thrill runs through me thinking how a day’s growth of whiskers on his face tickled my skin when he kissed me. What is it going to feel like brushing up against my inner thighs? My pussy throbs thinking about it, and I’m not really paying attention to where I am.
Low, masculine voices locked in an argument pull me to a stop.
Spike stands with Forest in the kitchen with a scowl on his face and anger dancing in his eyes. Arms crossed, shoulders rolled back, his angry gaze cuts to me. It falters and slips, to be replaced by anguish.
Forest’s head swivels, slowly, methodically, taking forever to swing my way. His icy gaze freezes me mid-step.
“Angel, go to your room, it’s late.” His gravelly voice instills fear, demands obedience, and commands that I do exactly as he says.
But I hold my place.
My attention shifts to the defeated look filling Spike’s expression. I used to think how ferocious he looked with all the piercings in his brows and lips, but all I see now are the swirling currents of emotion sweeping across his handsome face.
“What’s going on?” My voice cracks a little, sounding small and unsure.
“Just having a chat with Spike. That’s all. Go to your room.”
“No.” My back straightens at that comment.
I mirror Spike’s pose, crossing my arms and puffing out my chest.
“Not up for discussion,” Forest continues.
“Look. I don’t know what bug crawled up your butt, but you don’t get to tell me what to do.”
The expression on Forest’s face freezes in place. It’s like his brain is trying to figure out how to process what I just said. I imagine there are very few people who say no to the ferocious giant. I’m tired of the men in this place telling me what to