Chapter Twenty-One
The key wouldn’t get in the damn lock. Reid was past need, past hunger for the woman at his side. He was desperation, pure and simple. To the point his hands shook so badly he could barely control them. He took a calming breath that did absolutely nothing to slow his racing pulse, but, finally, the key slid home. He shoved the door open and pulled Rusty in after him, leading her into the house.
“Too damn long,” he said, knowing he made no sense at all but struggling to form coherent sentences at this point.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly, lips parted, the lower one glossy after licking it. She was as desperate for a taste of him as he was of her. “Reid?”
Moving forward, stalking her, he kept coming as she backed up. “Seven nights I climbed into that bed, the smell of you on my sheets, believing I’d lost you, with only the memory of how it felt with you bedside me. How it felt to push into that tight, sweet body. The sound of your cries when you got close. The way you curled into my side after, as if you couldn’t get close enough.” He shook his head. “I didn’t like it, Foxy. Not one fuckin’ bit.”
They’d reached the stairs leading up to his bedroom, and she stood there, looking stunned and highly turned on. “You missed me?” she whispered.
“Baby, missed does not describe the way I felt without you here.” He stepped closer, forcing her up against the wall.
She tipped her head back, licked her lips. “Prove it. Show me how much you missed me.”
Oh, yeah, he’d show her all right. “I could fuck you right here, right now, against the wall, but I need you in my bed.” Bending at the waist, he grabbed her ass and flung her over his shoulder. She squeaked as he carried her up the stairs to his room, laughing in that soft raspy way that made him hard.
He strode in and set her down on her feet at the end of the bed. She didn’t say a word, all humor wiped from her face, and she waited, waited for him to tell her what he wanted. Rusty loved it when he took charge, loved him to take control when they were in bed, and dammit, he loved that, too. Needed it. She knew it, saw that in him, and she gave it to him.
She gave him everything he needed. All he’d ever need.
Running his hand down her bare arm, he whispered, “On your knees.”
She went down without a word, eyes on him, lips slightly parted, like she was anticipating his cock in her mouth. Reaching down, he ran a finger along her jaw. “You said you like sucking my cock, when I pull your hair, when I fuck your sweet mouth. You want that?”
“Yes. Yes, I want that.”
Her eyes damn near shone in the dim light, and he had to swallow past the lump in his throat so he could speak. “Undo my pants. Free my cock.”
She lifted her hands to the front of his trousers, and they trembled as she worked on his belt.
He was no saint. This had already been established. He could admit he was a jealous asshole, and Rusty’s words that day he’d forced her away, when she’d shoved down the pain he’d caused and struck back, hadn’t left him. They’d been on loop in his head the entire week.
Cupping her jaw, he made her look up at him. “Did you mean what you said? Did you fuck anyone else, the guy at the party?” He shook his head when she narrowed her eyes, before she got pissed. “I know I have no right to ask, after what I said to you, but I need to know. It’s making me crazy, baby, thinking of you with someone else. That I could have pushed you to do that because of the way I hurt you.”
She stopped what she was doing and blinked up at him. He ran his thumb over her soft lips, couldn’t stop himself from touching her. “Would it make a difference if I had? Would it change the way you feel about me?”
“No. Never.” He realized nothing could ever do that.
She held his gaze. “You’re right. You don’t have a right to ask, not about that. Because you did hurt me, you cut me deep.” Then she shrugged. “I spent the week missing you, wishing I was with you. I didn’t mean any of it. I wanted to hurt you the way you hurt me. They were just words. I didn’t want anyone else then, and I don’t want anyone else now.” She shook her head. “I didn’t sleep with anyone else. As for the guy at the party, I don’t even know the man. He’d been talking to me for two minutes before you walked in.”
Relief swamped him, along with a possessive hunger so strong his knees threatened to give out. “I don’t think I could have handled it, if I’d driven you to that.”
Rusty’s little sister had known exactly what buttons to push with a guy like him, and it had worked. If it wasn’t for her interfering, he might not be here now, with the woman he loved.
The woman he loved.
The words swam around his head, settling in, taking root. He should be freaked out, but he wasn’t. He was surprised he hadn’t seen it sooner. He’d never met anyone like Rusty. Didn’t want anyone else, and he hadn’t been lying—this last week without her, believing he might never get this chance again, had torn him up.
Rusty dropped her hands. “Did you really think I’d just run off and start fucking anything with an available hard dick?”
No, he didn’t. He knew better than that, knew her better than that. “I’m sorry, Foxy. I know that’s not you, but being away from you…it fucked with my head. I’m acting like a jealous asshole.”
“Yeah, but you’re my jealous asshole” She smiled, reached up, and slid down the zipper on his trousers. “Hmm, maybe I should punish you.”
Easy as that, she forgave him. He didn’t deserve her, for a fuck of a lot of reasons. But right then he didn’t care. He had a second chance, and he wasn’t going to blow it. She tugged down his pants and slid her hand into the front of his boxers, pulling the elastic out and over his erection, then shoved them to his feet, freeing his achingly hard cock.
He watched her, eyes locked on his dick, licking her lips, and shuddered, close to losing it. “You gonna punish me with that sexy mouth?”
“Yes. I’ve been dreaming about this beautiful cock, of sucking and licking it until you can’t bear it another minute.”
“Yeah, then what? What happens after that?” He was panting, and when she wrapped her fingers around his length and squeezed, he hissed. She slid her hands up and down, then leaned in and kissed the tip, her pink tongue darting out to taste the glistening pre-come.
“You fist my hair and push deep into my mouth, use me to get yourself off, taking what you want from me.” Wrapping her lips around the head, she sucked harder, making him groan and his hips buck. “You lose control.”
“You like that? You like it when I lose control?” he growled.
“I love it.”
She was making him crazy, and he was damn close to doing just that. So close to snapping and doing all the things she’d just described that it wasn’t funny.
Fisting her hair, he thrust his hips forward, just a little, pushing the head of his cock past her lips. “You want this? You want me to fuck your mouth?”
She gave a little nod, all she could do with him pushing deeper. She moaned, and the vibrations nearly sent him over the edge. He couldn’t do this much longer, the wet heat of her mouth, that wicked tongue moving against the underside of his dick, the light teasing suction. He couldn’t hold back. Thrusting his fingers into her hair, he held her immobile and started to do as she asked. The urge to ram into her, pound into her mouth was hard to ignore, and when she reached up and took his balls in her hand, massaging gently, his hips flexed involuntarily, shoving deeper. And fuck, she took it, didn’t pull away, gave herself totally to him.
His balls drew up tight, sparks of pleasure firing to life in his lower belly, down his shaft. He was close to coming, so damn close. But now, tonight, after everything they’d been through, after the realization that he loved her, that he planned to spend the rest of his life with her—yeah, he needed to be inside her when he came.