SPIKED (A Sports Romance) (32 page)

“I don’t know how to make it up to you,” he said. “How to prove to you that you’re the only one who matters.”

“You can’t,” I said, sorrow filling my words. “I’m terrified that loving you means signing up for a broken heart.”

His eyes softened, and when he reached over for my hand, I didn’t have the strength to yank it away.

“You can trust me,” he insisted.

“I tried that,” I said, shaking my head through the tears that threaten. “And then Alexa showed up.”

“I need you,” he said, his voice ragged and raw. “Alexa was a terrible mistake I made—and believe me, I’m paying for it now.”

A car drove by, making me jump. I felt like I was standing at cross roads, except there were a thousand different choices, and none of them seemed right.

“Where are you staying?” I asked, shoving away all the doubts and fears. Maybe it was the two drinks. Maybe it was the presence of Landon.

“The Four Seasons, downtown.”

“Do you think we could go there?” I asked, my heart hammering harder.

I knew it was all wrong, that Landon was bad news, would always be bad news, and that he had never truly been able to be honest with me. He was always going to keep a part of himself and his life secret, so I would never be allowed all the way in.

But the truth was, I could never resist him.

He didn’t answer, just put the car in gear.

* * *

W
e stood
in silence in the elevator, as the floors dinged ever upward, until we emerged on the penthouse floor. He led me to a door marked
City Suite
, and I stepped through as he held the door for me.

Polished marble floors led me to floor-to-ceiling windows, overlooking the sparkling city below. I stared at the glimmering lights as Landon uncorked a bottle of red wine, pouring two glasses and bringing me one. We stood side by side, watching the city. It was surreal, to be so far from home and yet still with him, right now.

He flew here for me.

Something about that had softened the walls I’d put up. A soft touch, few whispered words, and I knew they’d crumble all over again.

I sipped at the wine as he led me through the living room, anticipation building like a rising tide.

I expected him to lead me to the bed, but he didn’t. He paused, taking off his cufflinks, slipping off his jacket and draping it over the back of a chair. And then we walked through another doorway.

The bathroom was just as big as the bedroom, with a jetted, double-sized tub sitting under a big picture window. We were on the highest floor of the tallest building in downtown, so there were no window coverings to block out the stars and the moon. He took my wine glass, setting it down on the edge of the tub.

He leaned forward, as if he planned to touch me, but instead of slipping his hand around my back, he turned the faucet handle just behind me.

Water poured out, the sound echoing in the cavernous space.

He took my face in his hands, let’s his thumb stroke back and forth along my jaw line as he tipped my head back, claiming my mouth with a kiss.

It was soft and deep all at once, his tongue tracing across my mouth, begging my lips to part. I obliged, letting him slip his tongue inside my mouth as he tangled his fingers in my hair.

The sound of running water faded as I stepped closer, my hands sliding up his back, wrapping around his shoulders. One of his hands was still buried in my hair as the other found its way to the buttons on my shirt, and one-by-one they popped free, exposing my purple-lace bra. He slid my shirt over my shoulders, and it dropped to the floor.

He gently tugged my hair, tipping my head back further so that he could kiss his way from one collarbone to the other, so that he could access the hollow of my neck, nibbling on my ear as my breathing turned rapid.

And then he stepped away, turning the water off. His gaze raked over my body, as if memorizing my curves, memorizing the way I looked standing in this posh bathroom at the top of a sky scraper, half-naked, breathing hard, totally wet and ready for him.

He didn’t break eye contact as he reached over, unzipping my pants, pushing them down over my ass so that they pooled at my feet. Now I was bare, yet he was still dressed.

He led me to the bath, and I obliged, stepping over the lip of the tub and into the steaming water.

I sat on the edge, my legs draped into the water. He stared, but I didn’t move, and then his lips curled. “You’re supposed to get in.”

“So are you,” I said. His grin widened, and his hands moved to the buttons of his shirt, until it was discarded on the floor near my clothes. He kicked off his socks and shoes, and then shoved his pants and boxers down in one push, his hard cock breaking free.

He slipped into the tub, pulling me down into the water. It was large enough for us to sit side by side, leaning back against the gentle slope of the tub, but he didn’t want it that way. Instead, he pulled me onto his lap, my back resting against his chest, so that I was sitting on his cock, but not letting it slip inside me.

No, it was sweet torture, to feel the hard length of it, but not have it where I wanted it. “Lay back against me,” he commanded, puling me against him.

He slipped one hand over my thighs, nudging my legs apart, so that my ankles hooked over the outside of his. So that he would have access, his hands wet and slick as they found their way to my core. I laid against him, languid, loving the feeling of the hard planes of his body against mine, as the warm water lapped against my stomach. Loving the way his breath was hot against my ear, the feeling of his lips against the side of my neck.

His finger swirled around my clit, sending heat pooling in my belly. I swiveled my hips, pressing further into his dick, and he groaned. “You’re teasing me,” he said, his finger moving down, slipping inside me.

“What do you call what you’re doing?” I asked, groaning as his finger plunged was joined by another, stretching me out. He used his feet to push my ankles wider, to gain better access. With his free hand, he kneaded my breast.

“Feeling you,” he said, his fingers plunging in and out, “In the place I’m going to taste you later,” he added, biting softly at my shoulder.

I groaned wiggling my ass harder against his lap.

“You drive me crazy,” he said. “I wanted to kill that guy just for the way he looked at you.”

The jealousy threaded through his voice somehow made me want him more. It was like he wanted to possess me, own me in a way that meant no other man could ever have me.

“Tell me you’re mine,” he said, his voice low, gravelly. Seductive in a way I didn’t know I wanted.

“I’m yours,” I said, grinding harder against his cock. “Only yours.”

My pulse roaring with desperation as his fingers pushed inside me, and he added a third, stretching me further. I needed him to fuck me right there in the tub, slam into me hard and fast, but he was taking his time.

“Do you like that?” he asked, using his legs to push my ankles as far apart as they’d go, so that thy touched each side of the enormous tub. He leaned forward, watching as his fingers forced their way inside me.

“Mmmm,” was all I could manage, more a moan than an answer.

“God you’re tight,” he said, his fingers growing rough against me. And then they slipped out of me, and, he grabbed my hips, lifting me off of him, placing me at the edge of the tub. Water dripped in rivulets down my hair, across my breasts and legs. The edge of the tub was cool and hard against my ass, but I only breathed harder as his hands glided up over my legs. At my knees, he nudged them apart, kneeling below me, in the tub.

“I want to taste you,” he said, pushing my thighs apart as he leaned down.

I tangled my fingers in his wet hair, my other hand sliding down his back, wet and hot from the bath. His tongue circled my clit as his fingers slid under my thighs, up around my ass and gripping it, hard. Twisting my flesh in his hands as his tongue slid across my slit.

I leaned back, my head knocking against the window. Above, the moon glowed, warm and yellow. My hair slid over my shoulder, the window sill digging into my shoulders as I spread wider, giving him better access.

As his tongue circled my clit, his fingers plunged into me again, making me gasp, making my breathing come harder, raspier. “God you taste good,” he said, his tongue dating against my flesh. “I’m going to make you come,” he said, nipping against my skin.

I groaned in response, leaning back further, granting him better access. Another finger joined the one plunging into me, and the pressure built. “Let go,” he said, his breath hot against me. My feet still dangled in the tub, and as he moved, the water splashed against the tiles.

Heat built, waves and waves of it, as his fingers got rougher and his tongue got faster, swirling against me as my moans grew louder. I gripped the tub with both hands, trying to hold it together, but his fingers just got deeper, his knuckles hitting me roughly as his fingers plunged in and out.

My cries grew more desperate, a wave of pleasure wracking my body as my hand buried into his hair, desperately shoving his face against me. I rode the crest of heat, my breathing finally slowing as my senses came back. When the pulsing finally stopped, and I let my feet touch the bottom of the tub again, I met his eyes.

He smirked up at me, still kneeling in the water. I wanted to smack his shoulder, because he knew what he’d just done, knew the depths of pleasure he’d just given me.

Instead, I said, “What, like you’re not next?”

I slid into the water, pushing him up. So that he’d be kneeling in the water, the warm bath just touching his balls, his erect cock protruding out. I grabbed it in my hand, pumping up and down as my tongue circled the tip.

He groaned, his hand finding the back of my head, fisting in my hair, pushing me further down, forcing me to take him completely in my mouth. The bath lapped against my chin as I dragged lower, his cock so large it nearly gagged me before I pulled back.

“Your mouth feels so good,” he said, yanking me harder against him. I gripped his hips with my hands, picking up a steady rhythm as he bucked against my mouth. Each time I slid back up to the tip, he forced my head down again, so that I had to take him all at once.

His breathing grew raspy, faster and faster as he thrust into me. And then he stilled.

“I want you in my bed,” he said, picking me up by the elbows.

Water dripped down our bodies as we stepped out of the tub. I followed him across the bathroom, a trail of water left in our wake as we entered his bedroom. It was dark, the draperies blocking out the light. Only a lamp in the corner gave us what we needed to find the bed.

We fell into it together, skin on skin. He dragged me backwards, and I climbed onto his lap. He kissed me, hard and deep, as I rose on my knees and then slid onto him.

He groaned, his hands gripping my hips, picking me back up and making me slide up and down, picking up a rhythm. The bathtub had left me sated only moments earlier, but as I rode him, heat rose again. I wanted more of this man, of this wicked pleasure. I wanted him to fuck me all night, let me ride him like this until I collapsed in exhaustion.

He gripped my hip in one hand as the other slid over my ass. Without warning, he smacked me hard with his palm, making my skin sting. I groaned in response, and he spanked me again as I rose and fell on his lap, driving us both to the edge. He groaned and smacked the other side of my ass,
hard
, so that I was sure my backside would be red when this was all over.

And it only made me want more. Always, with this man, I wanted more. Nothing he did was ever enough, it only made me desperate for him to go faster, harder, rougher. He sat up a little, his mouth finding my breast. His tongue circled my nipple, and I raked my hands across his back. Wanting more. “That feels good,” I said, leaning forward, letting him suck and pull on my breast. He fell back into the bed, and I braced myself on my hands, his mouth not leaving my skin.

He held me over him, his hands on my hips, and bucked against me, quickening the pace in a way I couldn’t do on my own. I moaned, leaning down and kissing below his ear as he fucked me harder and faster. “I like that,” I whispered into his ear, in a voice I hardly recognized as my own.

His hands slid around to my back side, gripping my ass as he fucked me faster, harder. His breath turned raspy, matching my own throaty moans. His hips ground into my thighs as I rode him, and I knew I’d be sore later from this, but couldn’t bring myself to care.

I twisted my hand into the blanket as I tried to hold it together, but I was unraveling, pushing closer to the edge. Just as I nearly hit my release, he paused, sitting up and twisting me around, pushing me down onto the bed, pinning me on my back under him without pulling out. Without stopping.

He hooked my knees over his shoulders, so I was bent in half, and plunged deeper, harder, the angle making him feel bigger than before. “You look good on your back,” he said. I reached up, pulling him down to kiss me. My legs were nearly above my head now, and I was pinned like this, with him thrusting harder, our fucking growing rougher, more frantic. “You’re mine,” he said again, his voice rough and possessive.