Encore Worthy: a Mountains & Men prequel novella (9 page)

I’VE BEEN TO THE
gym four times in the last two days. I was hoping that a second hour of cardio after work would wear me out enough that I’d forget what I’ve been craving since I woke up late Sunday night.

Sage.

I reach for the knob in the shower, turning off the hot water, allowing an icy chill to wash over me for a few seconds. Thinking about Sage while I’m naked and wet is just downright masochistic. I groan in frustration as I kill the tap, step out of the tub, and wrap a towel around my shivering body. I wish I could forget him. Forget his soft lips, his greedy hands, his huge dick.

Fuck.
It’s been two days, for crying out loud!

Granted, it doesn’t help that he’s already called me a half a dozen times this week. It’s kind of hard to forget the man when his voice keeps filling up my voicemail.

God, his voice.

As I stand in front of my vanity mirror, my hands poised and ready to open up my dresser drawer, I look right through my reflection. My mind clouds with the memory of him filling me as I’ve never been filled before; his sexy voice singing to me as he stared at me with those blue eyes.

I huff out a sigh and tug open my drawer, a little more aggressive than necessary, before I begin digging for clothes. I have no business dreaming about him. His body might be infuriatingly irresistible, but that little arrogant shit is just a kid. He’s twenty-one. He’s a lead singer of a great band. He’s cocky and confident and, honestly, I can’t blame him. I know he’s got girls falling at his feet. It’s no wonder that he gets what he wants—the world hasn’t told him
no
yet. Five years might not seem like a lot, but I remember being twenty-one. I was still in school and—and I’m just not that person anymore. I’m older and,
shit,
I teach calculus to kids like him! Day dreaming about him is like fantasizing about a professor-student relationship and
that
is unacceptable.

Knowing I’m in the for night, I skip any underwear and slip into a pair of sweatpants and a spaghetti strap tank top with a built in bra. After towel drying my hair, I return it to the bathroom and then head for the kitchen. I’m sure the only way I’m going to get any work done tonight is if I have a glass of wine to help relax me. I feel wired, even after a long day, and I know a simple cup of tea will not do the trick.

The school year has barely just begun. So far, the few courses that I teach have started mostly with review. I like to get a grip on what my students know before I plan out the rest of the semester. The assignments I look over tonight aren’t for a grade, even though they’ll get points for simply turning it in. I won’t deny that I can be a hard-ass in the classroom. There’s so much for me to teach in just a matter of weeks; I expect my students to keep up, but I’m not cold-hearted. I’m a resource. I want to be able to help them—figuring out what they already know enables me to do my job to the best of my ability.

I’m sitting on the floor, papers piled neatly across the coffee table, my first glass of wine half gone, when a knock sounds at my door. I’m not expecting anyone, so I’m not sure who I’ll find when I get up to answer. For a moment, I wonder if Sarah has forgotten her key or something. Then I look through the peephole. I gasp, my neck heating up and my stomach fluttering at the sight of him. I take a step back, cursing my body for reacting to the tiny, distorted image of him standing on the other side of my door.

“Millicent, I know you’re in there. Open the door.”

I take a deep breath, squeezing my legs together, wishing for the ache he causes just by
speaking
to go away.

“Sage, what are you doing here?”

“Open the door, doll face.” I shake my head, even though I know he can’t see me. “Millicent—just open the door.”

My hand reaches out to slide back the deadbolt and twist the knob, as if it’s actively rebelling against my mind. When the barrier between us is no longer separating us, I can’t help but drink him in. Black Converse. Fitted blue jeans. Black graphic t-shirt—each scrap of fabric hugging that body worthy of admiration. When my eyes meet his, I want to flip him off for being so damn alluring.

“
The truth is in the lie of just one night,
” he sings softly. My breath catches in my throat and he tilts his head, narrowing his eyes as if he’s studying me from behind his glasses. He takes a step toward me before he continues, and my heartbeat picks up speed.

“
Can’t stop the beat, can’t stop my feet, just want to dance

I’ll set you free, but will you let me go?

You cage me in and now I can’t let go.

All night/One song

This room/My home

Set me free but, baby, don’t let go

Tonight/ Just give me tonight.”

My feet, my arms, my lips—they
all
conspire against me and in
one
step, my body is in reaching distance of his; in
one
second, my arms are circled around his neck; in
one
breath, my mouth is pressed against his—and before I can make sense of what in the hell I’m doing, he’s crushing me against him as his tongue invades my mouth in the most delicious way.

I’m instantly burning with a fierce desire for him, my craving for this man bursting free from all my efforts to squelch any and all interest in what he has to offer. I want him. I want him so badly, I can’t even think straight. I’m so excited and turned on, my body feels like it’s vibrating with anticipation—or is that the rumble of his deep groan that rattles his chest? Whatever it is, it fuels my hunger and I don’t stop him when he backs me into the living room, or when he closes the door behind him, or when he slides his hand under the waist band of my sweatpants, squeezing my bare ass as he presses me against the erection hardly concealed in his pants. He groans again and I tighten my grip around him, lifting myself onto my tiptoes in an attempt to somehow get him even closer.

“Shit, I can’t stop,” I whisper against his lips.

“Good. I need my cock inside your pussy, baby doll. I want you right now.”

“I’m not wearing any panties,” I murmur, daring him with one glance. “What are you waiting for?”

“Sarah?” he practically growls.

“Not home.”

I barely get the words out before he’s got me turned around and bent over the the back of my couch. I practically whine in impatient desperation when he yanks my pants down around my ankles. My chest feels tight as I grow short of breath, listening as he loosens his belt and unzips his jeans. I hear him rip open the condom just as his pants drop, the thud of his buckle hitting the floor making my pussy ache.

I suck in a breath when he rubs his cock across my entrance and over my clit, wetting himself with my arousal. I arch my back in a silent plea and he grabs my hips in a tight grip. “Hold on, doll face. This is going to be fast and hard.”

“Fuck,” I cry when he thrusts into me, stretching me open and filling me to full capacity. His warning was not for nothing and he doesn’t pause for even a moment before he begins to pound in and out of me. The sound of his skin slapping against mine is unfathomably sexy, and I mewl at the pleasure he’s forcing upon my body.

“You like that, baby? Did you miss my dick like I missed your pussy?” he grounds out as he releases one of his hands from my hip and grabs a fistful of my damp hair. He pulls hard enough to get me to arch my back a little more, but gentle enough that the whimper I let loose is one of pure enjoyment.

“Oh, god, yes,” I mutter honestly, too distracted to lie or even come back with a smart remark. My body did miss him and no amount of physical exertion would allow me to forget it. Now, as he takes me like he hasn’t taken me before, I’m afraid I’ll never be able to forget him. Not ever. “Sage—Sage—Sage,” I chant mindlessly as I feel my orgasm start to build; it’s warm and enticing and all I want is to be consumed by it.

When the pressure from his fingers around my hip disappears, the last thing I expect is for his hand to slap across my ass. The moan his palm elicits surprises me just as much. “That’s for saying I have the maturity level of a fifteen year old.” He spanks my other cheek as he continues to pummel in and out of me and a shock of pleasure rushes up my spine. “That’s for ignoring my calls.” Then, without warning, his fingers are squeezing my throbbing clit and my orgasm hits me like a fucking tornado. “And
that,
” he begins to say, speaking loudly so that he might be heard over my cries, “is for opening the door.”

His declaration is followed immediately by a growl, his response to the ecstasy of his own climax. He rides out his release, thrusting into me once, then twice before he releases my hair and lays across my back. He kisses the side of my neck as he continues to rock his hips lazily; and I sigh, feeling sated at last.

AFTER I PULL OUT,
I remove the condom and bring my pants up around my waist. I head to the bathroom to dispose of our protection, but I don’t bother buttoning my jeans closed. I have every intention of a repeat performance. When I make my way back out into the main room, I find Millie dressed and standing with one hand on her hip, the other holding an empty wine glass. She sighs when she sees me and then heads for the kitchen. I follow, right on her heels.

“Sage—what are you doing here?” she asks, planting her hands on the counter as she leans against them, her back to me. Her shoulders are rigid in her current posture, but she’s still exceptionally delicate, her skin creamy and soft. All I can think about is how I want to drag my lips against every inch of her back. “Sage,” she moans, dropping her head.

“I think you know why I’m here,” I reply, sliding my hands around her hips. Unlike before, when I was fucking her, my grip is firm but gentle. The last thing I want is for her to bolt—not now that I’ve finally got her attention again.

“We . . . we can’t—”

“I think we can, doll face. I think we just
did.
”

“Okay, so this is about sex,” she states. When she turns around and folds her arms across her chest, I’m sure to maintain my grip, sliding my hands up around her waist. “You owned another orgasm.
Thank you.
You can go now.”

I smirk before I lean in and rest my forehead against hers. “Go out with me.”

“What?” she breathes, dropping her arms.

“You heard me. A date—I want to take you out. Say yes.”

She leans away from me and pierces me straight through with her dark green eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous. Did you not hear anything I said on Sunday? You picked me up at a bar. We had great sex. You don’t know anything about me. You do not want to take me on a date and I—”

“Enough,” I interrupt her, placing both hands on the counter so that I’ve got her caged between my arms. “I’m not some punk kid. I’m a fucking man who knows exactly what he wants. I might be younger than you, but that doesn’t mean
shit.
Don’t trick yourself into thinking you know anything about me, either. Getting to know each other is what a date’s all about, doll face. I know enough about you to know that I want more. So say yes.”

She hesitates and I know already I’ll get what I want. She won’t make it easy, but the truth is in her eyes.

I bring my mouth to hers and press a soft kiss against her lips. “Sage,” she sighs when I pull away.

“Say yes.”

“No.”

“Wrong answer,” I insist. I tug her bottom lip between my teeth and she whimpers, bringing her hands up to my chest. I smile when she doesn’t push me away and then suck her lip further into my mouth before letting her go. “Say yes.”

“It would never work.
We
would never amount to anything and so—what’s the point?” she asks with a shrug.

I groan in frustration, bringing my lips to her neck. Her hair is still damp from a shower and she smells sensational. I flick my tongue out, sneaking a taste of her skin, and she grips my t-shirt. I chuckle before I whisper into her ear. “Give it up, doll face. You know you want me.”

This time, when her hands press against my chest, she tries to push me away. I don’t budge. Instead, I lift an eyebrow at her and fight a smile at the indignant look on her face. “See? That right there?
That’s
why I’m saying no.”