Run Rosie Run (26 page)

She blinked.

‘Okay.’

He stepped into her, took her ponytail in his hand, wrapping it around his wrist.

Big green eyes gazed into his before dropping to his cock.

The pulse under her ear was fast as her tongue licked her bottom lip.

‘Open.’

She opened her mouth and took him in and his pelvis thrust gently once, twice.

He tugged back her head to get the angle right as she took him down her throat.

Dio,
she felt fantastic.

He pulled back and her tongue swirled around the mushroom head licking him like her favourite ice-cream in a way that made him gasp.

Again he thrust into her hot, wet mouth and this time he went fast taking care not to choke her.

Big eyes watched him as his body shook with the wonder of it.

Her groan vibrated up his cock and into his balls.

‘Are you okay?’ he gasped.

Her nod made him go faster.

He had to lock his knees since his legs felt boneless.

The way her hot mouth, her tongue, caused a wonderful friction along with the moans that vibrated right down to his toes made his cock so hard his eyes crossed.

But he couldn’t do it and pulled his cock from her mouth with a little pop.

Now she frowned at him, anxiety and confusion in those beautiful green eyes.

‘What happened?’

Breathing through the sting in his balls, he shook his head.

‘I cannot.’

‘Why not? I was so turned on I was almost ready to explode.’

She was?

‘Some women do not find the experience a pleasant one.’

Now her brow lifted.

‘You find the taste of me pleasant.’

‘
Si
, I love to taste you.’

‘Then don’t you think it’s only fair that I get to try you?’

He saw her point of view, but he couldn’t do it to her and the ache in his cock was distracting him.

The way he released her hair and took a step back seriously annoyed Bronte.

For goodness sake, what was the matter with him?

She was so turned on and about to spontaneously combust.

His balls were pulled so tight up into his groin and his cock looked hard enough to pound nails in the floor.

‘Nico!’

Now his eyes burned into hers.

‘I am not in a fit state to debate the issue with you. Turn around.’

His tone was one of a man at the end of his tether, and who’s fault was that?

Confused, she got on her hands and knees.

She turned around and he grabbed her hips and pulled her back against him.

‘Open wide.’

She spread her legs and prayed for him to enter her, to take her hard and fast because the way her sex was aching and too heavy with arousal she was ready to scream.

His fingers slid inside her and her body clenched down hard.

Her moan was heartfelt.

‘Nico, please.’

His thumb slid around her slick heat spread fluid up the crack between her ass cheeks in a way that made her gasp.

And then he thrust his cock to the hilt and pounded into her so hard and so fast she screamed.

The orgasm that sped through her system had her back arch and as she came he pressed his thumb against the tight muscle and Bronte fell apart.

But even as he pulled his rock hard cock from her core he wasn’t finished.

The first smack caught her so totally by surprise that her cry was one of shock rather than pain.

She collapsed onto the bed and he dragged her down until her feet were on the floor and her torso was face down on the bed.

A strong hand pressed between her shoulder blades to keep her still.

‘I want to spank you.’

A dark excitement speared through the low ache in her belly.

She knew he wouldn’t hurt her, in fact the heat from her ass cheek was doing lovely things to her clitoris.

‘I don’t do well with pain.’

‘If it gets too much I will stop.’

The next smack came so fast it too was a surprise.

But as he got into a rhythm she realised he was using an upswing with the flat of his hand in a way that heated her flesh rather than hurt it.

And that heat travelled through her ass into her clitoris and up into her womb.

Her arousal flooded in a way that stunned her.

She’d never been so wet in her life.

‘Nico, please,’ she begged with absolutely no idea what for.

And then she was on her back with her legs over his shoulders and his cock pounding into her.

His heavy balls slapped against her ass and he never took his eyes from hers.

No matter how many times he made love to her she was always a surprise.

The way she kept pace with him.

Her hands clutching the duvet fisted.

And he felt her gather again as her core muscles squeezed him too hard.

The tingle in his balls ricocheted from his heels to the base of his spine as she went rigid, curved her spine and cried his name.

The way his seed was torn from his body made him whine in his throat before Nico collapsed on top of her.

Bronte lay on her belly and just let her body sink into the bed.

Her ass was hot and she bet it was glowing.

‘Are you okay?’

She lifted her head, turned to look at him.

‘Never better.’

His eyes twinkled into hers.

‘How did you like my punishment?’

She nudged his leg with hers.

‘I’ll need to be naughty more often. Why couldn’t you come in my mouth?’

He shook his head.

‘I could not.’

Now she sent him a big smile.

‘You know what they say? Practice makes perfect.’

She caught his grin as he bent to kiss her bottom.

‘I adore you,
cara mia
.’

‘I love you.’

A cry came from the baby monitor.

Duty called and Luca would just have to wait a minute until his mother made herself presentable.

And Bronte rolled off the bed, heading for the shower.

As she turned on the tap, Nico joined her.

The way his big hands smoothed liquid soap on her skin had her look back over her shoulder.

‘We don’t have time for that.’

‘He is quiet again and it will do him no harm to wait.’

He nudged her out the way while he hogged the water, cleaning his cock and his balls with a thoroughness that made her brows lift.

He caught her silent question.

‘As you said, practice makes perfect.’

It had been a long day.

The girls had gone home early and Rosie wiped down stainless steel worktops, polished them to a glossy shine. The kitchen was so clean at Sweet Sensationss a person could happily eat food off the floor.

Busy work to stop her thinking.

Since her admission of guilt to Bronte about Simon her next task was one that she couldn’t avoid.

How to tell Alexander that the man was a figment of her imagination.

All day she’d carefully rehearsed her little speech.

Confession they say was good for the soul.

Not her soul.

He was going to kill her.

She just hoped he’d make it quick and put her out of her misery.

But the mere thought of telling the truth made her queasy.

Alexander wouldn’t let the matter rest until he’d got to the bottom of the nitty about the gritty.

‘I will never, ever, tell another lie for as long as I live,’
Rosie chanted the promise in her head.

The doorbell of the annex rang.

Rosie dropped her cloth and wandered through the interconnecting hall into her home.

She opened the door and found herself staring at a wide manly chest wearing a soft shirt of white cotton.

She knew that chest.

Her gaze travelled up, came to Alexander’s wonderful face.

Not a happy face.

And met eyes the colour of a stormy sea.

Crap.

She gave him wide eyes.

His narrowed.

‘You got some ‘splainin to do, Lucy,’ he drawled in his best Desi Arnaz accent from the ‘I Love Lucy’ show.

Omigod.

He only channelled that show when she was in deep trouble.

The butterflies in her tummy turned into bats.

Rosie took a step back and Alexander entered.

He strolled over to a couch and sat.

Stretching out long legs he crossed them at the ankle and sat back.

His eyes lasered into hers and the look in them told her he found her fascinating, perplexing and downright annoying.

‘I met Simon Lowther today,’ he began in a dulcet tone that dried her throat.

He did?

‘Really?’ she squeaked.

Her stomach clutched.

Omigod.

‘He’s never heard of Rosemary Gordon.’

She swallowed the urge to giggle like a fool, cleared her throat.

‘Really?’

‘Yeah, according to him you two have never met. Is that true?’

‘I never said I knew Simon Lowther.’

Now those eyes slitted.

‘You never said you didn’t either.’

She tried very hard not to imagine the conversation between Alexander and poor Simon.

Poor Simon.

‘What do you think the odds are of two airline captains called Simon, who are tall, blonde, tanned and built?’ he asked now.

Remember, no more lies.

Rosie looked him dead in the eye.

‘No idea.’

Those eyes lasered into hers.

‘I’ve checked the surrounding area thoroughly. My security team are the best by the way, and guess what?’ he asked conversationally.

Her heart rate skipped from quick to very fast.

‘What?’

‘No sign of another Simon. The only Simon who is a captain who flies is Simon Lowther. And you’re gonna love this...’

The buzzing in her ears made her take a shaky breath.

‘I am?’

‘Oh yeah. He’s gay.’

Rosie bit down very hard on her bottom lip as her brow creased.

The look in his eye had her swallow hysterical laughter.

But her eyes watered up.

Honestly, what the hell was he like?

He never, ever gave up.

‘Oh well then, you found the wrong man. Serves you right.’

‘Is Simon his real name?’ he asked in a silky voice.

Under that penetrating gaze Rosie felt herself grow smaller.

‘It’s sort of complicated.’

‘I asked you a question.’

The silence was never-ending as her brain raced.

Rosie found she couldn’t look away from the intensity of those green eyes.

‘Sort of... No.’

She shifted from one foot to the other, stared at the floor.

Flicking him a quick look, she found Alexander staring at her as if he’d never seen her before.

‘You lied.’

Yes.

‘No. Not really,’ Rosie said at her wit’s end.

Then she was saved by a spark of irritation.

‘Look, I don’t want to talk about it. No one asked you to stick your nose in, did they?’

Now he folded his arms.

‘You made a complete fool of me.’

Stung by the injustice of the comment her chin lifted.

‘I did not. You did that all by yourself.’

Then she frowned and spoke without thinking,

‘At least he wasn’t married.’

Okay.

There was something going on and he was so far out of the loop Alexander realised he might as well be on Mars.

‘Bronte says your heart is broken. Is it?’

Her mouth opened, then closed as her brow creased.

‘A little bit,’ she said faintly.

He could hardly strangle her when all he wanted to do was to protect her, hold her close.

But then another emotion raised its ugly head. Jealousy.

‘Do I know him?’

Her wince made his eyes narrow and he was almost sure he heard her whisper, ‘Bugger.’

‘Sort of,’ she responded in an anguished whisper.

Hmm.

‘That is not an answer.’

Now those dark eyes flashed into his and he read something like sheer desperation.

And that wasn’t right.

‘Can’t you just let it go?’ she asked in a tortured voice.

The way her eyes slid from his told him something was off with her.

‘No. And you lied to Bronte. You never lie to Bronte.’

She flinched, went white.

Hmm.

Hit a nerve with that one.

Rosie never lied to his sister. Never. So it was a mystery. A secret.

Okay, he loved mysteries and Rosie never kept a secret from Bronte.

She simply stood there and stared at him and he had the strange sensation of a huge battle being waged inside her

Silence.

‘You’re not going to tell me, are you?’ he asked at last and kept his voice low and soft.

But then she took a huge breath and her eyes met his.

‘He doesn’t exist,’ she said and her voice was no more than a whisper.

Silence.

‘I beg your pardon?’

Now her cheeks burned.

‘I mean I made him up. I don’t have a secret lover, except in my head. I lied to Bronte to stop her digging, discovering my feelings for...’

A wave of relief hit him so hard it took his breath.

And hot on its heels came another wave of shocked disbelief.

‘You knew that man was innocent. You knew that I was going to talk to him and yet you didn’t tell me the truth?’

Now her eyes flashed into his.

‘I told you to back off. I told you to leave it alone. But no!’

He blinked, tried to think.

‘You have a lover in your head you said. So you’ve been dreaming about a man. What man?’

Now she just sent him a bland stare and raised a dark brow.

He saw the truth in her eyes.

‘Me?’

‘Not you specifically. Alexander
Simon
Ludlow. And let me tell you this
he’s
a big improvement on the real thing.’

The way she spat the words and the reality of what she’d done and how it had come back to bite her, hard, had him remember all the times he’d mentioned Simon and how she’d looked so terribly guilty.

The little witch!