Betrayed by Love (15 page)

When I didn’t immediately respond, he pressed my hand against his groin. “Touch me.”

Enticed by the hard and thick length pulsing against my fingers, I slipped my fingers under the waistband of his trunks. I took several moments to brush my fingers over his pubic hair before I slid my fingers down to trail over his cock to cup his balls.

He groaned and reclaimed my lips.

There are few things more exciting than palming a man’s jewels. I returned his kiss while gently pumping him. I trailed my fingers along his balls.

He responded by pulling away long enough to push my swimsuit off my shoulders, exposing my breasts.

“Oh...damn...hello you beautiful girls,” he whispered before he rubbed his face against my cleavage.

I tingled. Oh, yeah, baby. Yeah.

He sucked my right nipple into his mouth. He twirled his tongue lovingly around it with a sweet heat I felt down to my core. His mouth and tongue felt hot and wet, and sent shivers through me.

I gasped and shuddered, pressing his head against my breasts with my free hand. I ran my other hand up from his balls to close around his shaft.

Just feeling how thick and hard he was flooded my pussy. I wanted to feel him sliding inside me so badly my stomach muscles kept contracting. But he was determined to deny me that satisfaction. He lifted me off his lap long enough to peel off my swimsuit before he pulled me back onto his lap. While I eagerly pumped him, he sucked my breasts until I ached to feel him inside me.

When I rose with the intention of straddling his hips and sitting on his cock, he grabbed my hips and held me immobile.

“What’s wrong, Grant?”

“Nothing, but it’s late. We’d better go to bed, Linea.”

“To bed?” I felt my pussy dripping at the thought. Oh, yeah, big boy, let’s you, me, and the girls go to bed and love the night away.

“Alone.”

“What?”

Grant urged me to my feet and stood up. He still had his trunks on, although his cock protruded through the slit.

I stared at his cock and then looked up at him, confused and so horny I felt as if I’d burst if he didn’t fuck me.

He stepped out of the hot tub. Pushing his cock back into his trunks, he picked up my robe and offered me his hand.

I gave him my hand and stepped out of the hot tub.

He slipped the robe over my shoulders before he retrieved my swimsuit from the hot tub, wrung it out, and handed it to me without meeting my gaze.

Still hoping to entice him into bed, I leaned against him.

He kissed my cheek but turned me away from him. “Do us both a favor and go to bed before I really lose it.”

What the hell did it take to get him so aroused he considered he’d lost it?

He pressed a quick kiss against the back of my neck. “I’ll lock up.”

I turned to face him, making no effort to close my robe. “Should I lock my bedroom door, Grant?”

He shook his head. “You can if you like, but I’ll keep my promise.”

Damn. I turned and went inside filled with sexual frustration.

In my bedroom, I dried off and then lay in bed naked. I turned on the clock radio to cover the sound my personal vibrator made. I played with my breasts and pressed it against my clit until I came. Then I rolled onto my stomach and finally slept.

Chapter Eight

I woke the next morning to the smell of brewing coffee. After a quick shower, I dressed in a pair of cotton Capris with a matching top and made my way into the kitchen.

It was empty, but there was coffee in the pot and a covered tray on the counter. I lifted the lid. There were scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast on the warming tray.

I poured myself a cup of coffee, picked up a piece of bacon, and wandered through the house. In the living room, I could see Grant seated at the patio table on his cell phone with a cup in front of him.

I paused in front of the open doors.

Grant looked up, waved me out, and rose. “Yes. Yes, I know. No, I won’t be working this weekend….I’ll call you on Monday…yes. Monday. Bye.” He ended the call and laid his phone on the table. He smiled and pulled a chair out for me. “Morning.”

Surprisingly I didn’t feel shy with him. I smiled up at him and sat in the chair, finishing my piece of bacon.

“Finished breakfast already, Linea?”

I sipped my coffee. “Actually, I just grabbed my coffee and a piece of bacon.”

He arched a brow. “That anxious to see me?”

“Aren’t you the conceited one?”

He shrugged. “Were you anxious to see me?”

“Not me.”

He smiled, glancing briefly at my breasts? “Were my beautiful, adorable girls?”

What woman could lie to a man who displayed such reverence for her breasts? “Yes,” I admitted.

He rose to lean over me. “Morning, ladies.” He brushed his cheek against my cleavage and straightened. “I’ll be back.”

I sat sipping my coffee until he returned with the warming tray with my plate, the coffee pot, and cream and sugar on it. He set the tray down near me before he resumed the seat across from me. “Can I interest you in remaining here for the weekend if I promise you don’t have to lock your bedroom door?”

Damn but he was determined to make me behave in a shameless fashion to get laid. I shrugged. “Why not?”

He grinned. “Great. How do you want to spend the day?”

“Lying around enjoying the sun.” And your cock inside me and your mouth, tongue, and teeth on my breasts.

“You want to go to the beach?”

And risk some overly tanned, skinny hussy catching his eyes? I shook my head. “No. It’s sure to be crowded. Right here is very nice.”

He nodded. “I couldn’t agree with you more. I’ll make lunch.”

I smiled. “And he cooks too. Jarrod said you weren’t gay or bi.”

“He’s right. I have absolutely no sexual interest in other men.”

“Do you have any in me?”

He nodded. “Oh, hell, yeah.”

“Good.” I picked up my fork. “So you like full–figured women?”

He shrugged. “I’d rather a woman have lots of curves than not enough. Now tell me what you have against white men.”

I put my fork down. That was a strange statement considering how close I’d come to sleeping with him. “Who says I have anything against white men?”

“Jen says you don’t date white men.”

Jen talked too damn much. “So?” I shrugged. I had nothing against white men—except that they weren’t black men. “I think white guys are perfect.”

I watched his shoulders relax. “You do?”

I nodded, my lips twitching. “Sure—for white women.”

He stared at me for several moments before he leaned back in his seat and laughed. “You are determined to bust my balls, aren’t you?”

I gave him a wide–eyed stare. “Who? Me? Bust your balls? Never.”

He locked his gaze on mine. “So what do you have against me?”

“That’s a strange question considering what almost happened last night, Grant.”

“Did you want it to happen?”

Damn, he was dense. “Yes,” I admitted.

“But?”

“But I would probably have regretted it this morning.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t date white guys,” I reminded him.

“Fine. You don’t date us. Does that preclude your fucking us?”

My cheeks burned and my stomach muscles clenched at the picture my mind conjured up. “I’ve never slept with any man who wasn’t black.”

“What’s so damned special about black men?”

His obvious irritation surprised me. “I’m black. There’s nothing mysterious about my preferring black men.”

“Jen is black as well.”

“I’m not Jen,” I told him.

“Thank God for that.”

I frowned. “And speaking of Jen, do you participate in her games?”

“Which games are you referring to?”

“You know what games I’m talking about.”

His gaze narrowed. “If you’re asking me if I flirt with Jen, then the answer isn’t just no. It’s hell no!”

I believed him. I sighed, relieved. “What bothers you about my preference in men, Grant?”

“Who says anything bothers me about your supposed preference?”

“My supposed preference?” I shook my head. “It’s a real preference.”

“That might be because you haven’t met the right white man.”

Instead of annoying me, his assertion amused me. “Well, hell. Aren’t you an overconfident bastard?”

He laughed. “Maybe, but I usually get what I want, Linea.”

“Am I supposed to assume you want to sleep with me?”

“Hell, yeah.”

I looked down at my cooling breakfast, my heart pounding. My pussy was flooding and my cheeks burned with heat. I sure as hell wanted him to fuck me, but—

“So what are my chances of succeeding?”

I lifted my head to meet his gaze. “I don’t do one–night stands.”

“You can make an exception for me.”

I stared at him. “You really are overconfident, aren’t you?”

He shrugged. “Should I pretend I don’t know most women find me attractive?”

“If you have so much success with women, you shouldn’t have to waste time trying to talk me into a one–night stand,” I retorted.

He laughed and ran a hand through his hair. “If I spend much more time with you, my balls will be permanently deflated.”

“You sound like a man in need of a cool shower.”

“Or some hot, sweet pussy.” He leaned across the table to take my hand in his. He lifted my palm to his mouth. “Put me out of my misery, Linea.”

I moistened my lips. The urge to surrender to my desire for him was difficult to resist. Recalling how close I’d come to sitting on his naked cock the night before, I knew it wouldn’t take much persuasion to lure me into a weekend of mindless and irresponsible sex. That was the last thing I needed. I withdrew my hand from his. I shook my head. “I’m not having intercourse with you.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t owe you an explanation for not sleeping with you.”

“Give me one anyway.”

I blinked at him. Who the hell did he think he was?

“If I decide to sleep with a white guy, it won’t be casual.”

He reclaimed my hand, gently squeezing it. “There are other ways we can satisfy each other without intercourse.”