The Bridgewater Case Page 18

  As if he can sense my inability to control myself, he does exactly what I wished for him to do a moment ago. He slides his hands up, grabbing me behind my knees, and holds my legs down with greater force, pulling my muscles taut and opening me wider. He groans as he plunges his tongue inside of me, and I love the way he tastes me—like he’s greedy and he can’t get enough. My nipples are so hard they ache, and I mold my hands around my breasts so I can tug on them. I pinch hard, and the pleasure I feel makes me wild.

  Suddenly too warm for any sort of covering, I throw the sheet from off of me, causing it to land on top of Dane’s head. He lets go of me just long enough to uncover himself. Then, instead of grabbing my leg again, he blindly slides a hand up my body until he finds my breast. I relinquish my hold, more than happy to allow him access to play with me, and I moan his name as he rolls my nipple with his thumb and forefinger.

  He takes me higher and higher, his warm, wet tongue rough as he devours me, and yet soft to the touch at the same time. With my free hand, I sink my fingers into his hair, curling them into a fist around his thick, silky strands. I can’t prevent myself from tugging when he sucks on my clit—hard—simultaneously flicking his tongue against my bundle of nerves.

  “Oh, god! Dane!” I cry, my body struck with the outburst of my orgasm.

  My core is still fluttering when he laps up the evidence of my release, and my muscles start to relax even as my need for him starts to intensify. I want to feel him inside of me again—all of him. His cock filled me completely last night, and it felt amazing. It’s been a couple of years since I’d had sex, and he was a tight fit, but I loved it. He made me ache in the best possible way, and I’m anxious to have that again.

  When he finally lifts his mouth from my pussy, he presses a wet kiss against my lower belly and then smirks up at me. I trace my lips with the tip of my tongue before tugging my bottom one between my teeth, beckoning him as I curl my finger in invitation. His hips settle between my legs on my next breath, and my jaw falls open when I feel his length pressed against me. He takes advantage of my expression, thrusting his tongue between my lips and kissing me thoroughly. I taste my arousal in his kiss, and it turns me on in ways I don’t remember it doing so ever before.

  Feeling impatient, I reach down and wrap my fingers around his shaft. He lifts his hips, creating room for me to do as I please, and I pause after I’ve teased myself with the head of his dick against my entrance. He yanks his mouth away from mine, his blue eyes set ablaze as he stares down at me.

  “I want you so badly,” I whisper, giving him an insistent squeeze.

  “Sigourney—hadn’t planned on staying here last night. Fuck,” he grumbles, his morning voice sexy as hell. “I don’t have another condom.”

  My heart picks up speed, disgruntled at the thought of him pulling away from me right now. Against my better judgment, I graze the head of his dick over my slick entrance again, and the sound of his groan in conjunction with the way he clenches his jaw in an attempt to remain in control—it helps me make up my mind.

  “I’m on the pill. And I—”

  He doesn’t wait for me to say another word before he rams into me, stealing my breath. With him fully seated, I’ve never felt so full in all my life. It’s almost indescribable how good it feels.

  “Jesus,” he breathes as he eases out of me and pushes back in.

  I’m so wet around his bare length, the warm, smooth friction we create seems even more amazing than it did last night. I know he feels the same way when he lowers he mouth and kisses me languidly, his hips pounding against mine with every return thrust.

  “Sigourney,” he groans, his hand feeling its way up my side and around one of my breasts.

  Never in my life have I thought my name so sexy—but that’s what he’s doing to me. This gorgeous, strong, powerful man above me is beginning to change my mind.

  He fondles me gently, tweaking my nipple and massaging one breast before moving to the other. When he’s finished with my chest, he then slips his hand between us, two of his fingertips finding my clit, causing me to gasp. It’s all so much—him buried inside of me, his touch on my swollen nub. I feel hypersensitive, and yet all I want is more. He thrusts into me harder, his eyes boring into mine as he demands, “Come on my cock, babe—let go.”

  I slide my hands down his chest and around his sides, grabbing hold of him at his waist. I’m so close, it almost makes me want to cry, but I need help.

  “Harder—please,” I beg, my nails digging into his back.

  “Fuck, yes,” he grunts. Planting a hand on either side of my head, he pulls his dick out until he’s barely inside of my center. He then drives into me with such force, I feel it all the way to the crown of my head, tingles shooting down to the tip of my toes. I spread my knees wide, pressing my chest up, my eyes closed as I lose myself in all that he’s giving me.

  He rams into me only twice more before he robs me of my voice, my climax hitting me like a shock as pleasure bursts inside of me. With my jaw slack, and my body locked around his, I twist my neck and press my face into his pillow, completely overwhelmed. His thrusts come faster, growing erratic and staccato before he stills inside of me, a long groan spilling from his mouth and filling the room. We’re both completely still for a moment, each of us panting to catch our breath, and then he makes me moan as he glides in and out of me slowly.

  We’re so wet, our combined releases making us even more so than before, and his gentle strokes feel so good. I open my eyes in search of his, and the instant they connect, he lowers his lips to mine. We stare at each other, neither of us looking away as he sweeps his tongue through my mouth. I circle my legs around him, slipping my hands up his rigid abs and hard chest before wrapping my arms around his shoulders. As he flattens himself over me, I can no longer keep my eyes open—it’s too intense. I feel too much all at once, and yet I don’t want to lose his weight from on top of me.

  I’m not sure how long we kiss, but I enjoy every second of it. Now, even more than last night, after what we just shared, I feel more cared for and protected than ever. I’m not sure I’ll be able to go back to the way things were before. He means too much to me now. He’s so much more than my boss—he’s the man I’m falling for.

  When he slows down our kiss, grazing his lips along my jaw and burying his face between my neck and my shoulder, I feel him blow out a breath as his soft dick slides out of me. At the sensation of his seed leaking from my center, I furrow my brow as I tighten my grip around him, feeling slightly guilty and completely selfish. I wanted him. I didn’t want to wait—I couldn’t wait. I didn’t give us the chance to talk about us taking our relationship to that level. I’m well aware of the rules regarding safe sex, but I wasn’t thinking. I was consumed with desire, and I basically took what I wanted.

  “I’m sorry,” I whisper into his ear.

  A shiver races through me at the sensation of his tongue flicking out to taste my neck. He kisses me and asks, “Sorry for what, babe?”

  “I think you maybe tried to tell me no, and that maybe you didn’t want to have sex without a condom, but I goaded you.”

  He chuckles softly, pressing his lips against my neck before lifting his head to deliver another kiss to my lips. Propping himself on his elbows, his perfect blue eyes stare into mine as he sweeps some of my hair behind my ears. Even as sweet as he’s being, I’m still not sure of what he’s thinking until he mutters, “Got checked out right after we started seeing each other. It’s been years since I’ve had sex without a condom, but I wanted to be sure. I’m clean.”

  “Me too. I haven’t—well, it’s been a while since I’ve been with anyone.” I sense a blush creeping into my cheeks as I confess, “I’ve never…without a condom.”

  He smirks down at me and asks, “You trying to make me hard again?”

  Fighting a grin, I shake my head, negating him. “No, I just—I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I’m sorry I didn’t give us a chance to talk about it. It was self
ish, and I don’t want you to—”

  “Sigourney?” he grunts, shifting his hips.

  My eyes widen as I suck in a breath, the feel of his erection rubbing against my clit sending a spark of pleasure through me—as if he’s trying to start another fire.

  “What’d I tell you about apologizing?”

  “I know, but—” My words melt into a moan when he sinks his hardened length inside of me, and that selfish need I felt before comes rushing back. Suddenly, I don’t want to be having this conversation anymore.

  “What’d I tell you about apologizing?” he repeats, his voice low and gravely, the grit of morning still coating his vocal cords.

  I shudder beneath him, and his lips curl into a sly grin as I whisper, “I won’t do it again.”

  Leaning closer, his mouth grazing mine, he says assuredly, “Never tell me you’re sorry for wanting my dick inside of this sweet pussy. I’ll never be sorry for taking it. You feel good, babe,” he breathes, brushing a kiss against my lips as he begins to thrust his hips. “You feel better than good.”

  I accept his compliment, not speaking another word. I’d tell him I felt the same way, but he doesn’t give me the chance. Not that it matters much—my body makes my feelings perfectly clear.

  AFTER MAKING HER come for a third time, I offer to go grab us some breakfast and coffee from The Grind. She agrees, and I jump in the shower for a quick wash before putting on some clothes. Since I don’t usually stay up here over the weekend, I don’t have much in the way of casual dress, so I end up in one of my suits. Obviously, along with my trip to the dry cleaners this afternoon, I’ll have to stop by my house to grab some other clothes. I’m not leaving Sigourney here alone, regardless of how secure the building may be, which means it’s time I stopped putting off finishing this place. I’ve acquired a few larger pieces of furniture over the last several weeks, but the kitchen is not fully stocked.

  When I leave, Sigourney is stepping into the shower. I’m gone for only fifteen minutes, and when I get back, the sight of her emerging from the bedroom makes me wish I could forget that I made any plans this afternoon. There’s not a trace of makeup on her face. Her strawberry blonde hair is still damp, tossed to the side and draped over her shoulder and down her chest. She’s wearing the superman t-shirt I was to wear as part of my costume last night, and a pair of teal leggings that cling to those alluring legs, until just above her ankle. Her feet are bare, and she looks comfortable in my space and adorable in my t-shirt—both of which are sentiments she wears well.

  Even more, I’m fairly certain she’s not wearing a bra, adding sexy as fuck to the mix, too.

  She stops short at the mouth of the hallway, looking down at herself before peeking up at me. Appearing slightly embarrassed, she murmurs, “Sorry. I needed coffee before I tackled my hair. I heard you come in and…” Her voice trails off as she grabs the center of the shirt, further explaining, “It was on the floor, it looked comfortable, and it smelled like you—which I maybe shouldn’t have said out loud, but there you have it.”

  It dawns on me that her explanation was a result of my stare, and a small smile tugs at the corner of my mouth. “Come here,” I demand, holding out my hand.

  Without hesitation, she closes the distance between us, and I pull her into my side. Holding her against me with one arm, I use my free hand to palm her tit.

  Fuck me—I was right.

  No bra.

  Curious to see just how little she’s wearing, I slip the hand around her waist underneath the hem of my t-shirt. When I dip my fingers beneath the waistband of her leggings and find that she’s not wearing any panties, I grunt and my dick starts to swell as I squeeze her bare ass. Swear to fuck, she turns me on quicker than any woman I’ve ever met.

  “When I get back, I want you wearing exactly this.”

  Giving me some of her weight, she rests against me, tugging her eyebrows together in confusion as she asks, “You’re leaving? Where are you going?”

  “I have some errands to run. I also made plans with my mother. We’re supposed to do brunch this morning. I’d cancel, but it’s been weeks since I’ve seen her.”

  “No! It’s okay. Go. I understand.”

  “Are you sure? You’ll be all right here alone?”

  “Yes. I promise.” She reaches up to sweep a bit of hair behind her ear as she assures me, “I’ll unpack, and I should probably call my parents.”

  I nod, giving her ass another squeeze as I tell her, “That’s a good idea. They should know what’s going on.”

  “Really?” She tilts her head to the side, as if to express that I’ve misinterpreted her meaning. “I wasn’t going to give them any details. Actually, while I was in the shower, I was thinking of excuses to tell them as to why they should send any mail they might have for me to the office instead of my apartment.”

  Lifting my hand from over her chest, I slip my fingers around her neck and into her cool, damp hair, holding her gently yet assuredly as I say, “Tell them the truth. They don’t need to worry. I’ll keep you safe. From what you’ve told me about them, they’d want to know.”

  “You’re right,” she sighs. “But if my dad insists on flying in on the next plane out here, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  I scowl down at her, not exactly thrilled at the prospect of meeting her father anytime soon. While I understand not all men are created equal, I don’t trust the title just for title sake.

  “I’m kidding, Dane!” she insists, wrapping her arms around my waist. Speaking through a grin, she amends, “I hope I’m kidding.”

  “You and me both.” I lean down and press a quick kiss against her lips, then nod toward the counter. “Breakfast.”

  She doesn’t let me go but looks up at me as she replies, “Thank you. Not just for breakfast. I’m not sure if I said it before now, and I’m sorry if I haven’t—but thank you, for everything.”

  This time, when I touch my mouth to hers, I stay a while.

  I TOSS MY keys to the valet attendant, who offers me a chin lift and a wave as he jogs to the driver’s side of my SUV. Fastening the button on my jacket with one hand, I flip my opposite wrist to check the time. I’m fifteen minutes late. I’m never late when I come to the Cherry Creek Country Club for brunch with my mother—then again, I’ve never had to say goodbye to Sigourney on a morning before brunch, either.

  I’ve not ever had a woman in the penthouse. I wasn’t prepared for how much I’d like it—or how much fun it would be to fuck her from behind while she held onto the handle bars of the refrigerator’s double doors after she ate her breakfast.

  Upon reaching the hostess station, I try shoving aside all thoughts of my morning’s extracurricular activities as I offer up my name. The woman smiles at me flirtatiously when she informs me she’ll take me to my table, where the other half of my party has already been seated. I ignore the expression as I follow after her. When she sees me, my mother waves and stands to her feet. I thank the hostess before we even reach the table, effectively dismissing her and her failed attempt to capture my attention.

  Heather Croft looks as beautiful as always. Her blonde hair hangs straight to her shoulders, and her brown eyes sparkle as she smiles at me. I offer her a smile of my own, wrapping her in an embrace. She’s only a few inches shorter than me, much like Avangeline, and her frame is almost equally as slight—motherhood and age doing little to rob her of her slim figure. She’s dressed down this morning, in a pair of brown slacks with a cream colored top and a matching sweater that drapes around her. She traces her fingers over the large beaded necklace that lays against her collarbone as she studies me curiously, and I arch an eyebrow as I wait for the questions to begin.

  “Why are you dressed as though you’re to be in the office today? And what’s kept you, hmm?” she asks as we both take our seats.

  Picking up the menu, I nonchalantly explain that I stayed at the penthouse last night, holding back any explanation as to why.

  “I’ve already
ordered, dear. Hope you don’t mind. I have another engagement after we dine, and I know what your favorites are, anyway.”

  Discarding my menu, I lean back in my chair as I inquire, “What’s this other engagement?”

  “Oh, it’s just Rupert. He’s taking me to Steamboat for the weekend. We missed the trees a couple of weeks ago, but apparently it hasn’t snowed there, yet. I might get to see the fall foliage after all,” she tells me, speaking of the man she’s been seeing for the last three years.

  “Short weekend,” I observe.

  “He took Monday off. We’ll be up there for a couple of days.”

  I nod, not at all surprised that he would go out of his way to dote on my mother. From what I’ve come to know about him, he’s a decent guy. He’s made his fortune in investment banking; and while he still works hard at the ripe age of sixty-four years old, he makes time for the woman he loves. Not only that, but he respects her and her decisions to keep all of their assets separate—including their homes. No matter how happy he makes her, I’m certain they’ll never get married, a decision I understand completely.

  “How’s Rupert these days?”

  “Good. Busy—but, apparently, not as busy as my son. You know it’s been weeks since I’ve seen your face? Scheduling a meal with you is like scheduling a meal with the Pope.”

  “Yes, well, I’ve had a hefty case load as of late. Not to mention—”

  “Don’t give me excuses about having been made partner,” she scolds, like only a mother can, pointing her finger at me accusingly.

  Well aware of how my father’s career left her scarred, I don’t speak of how my responsibilities keep me quite occupied. Even if it is true—and it is—for reasons I not only comprehend but also appreciate, she wouldn’t believe or condone such an answer. Instead, I decide to offer her a bit of news I’m certain will distract her from such hurtful memories.