Too Goode to be True (Love Hashtagged #2) (9 page)

“We’re not doing this just because the sex is good, right?”

“No.” He didn’t hesitate to answer. “But it certainly doesn’t hurt.”

She danced her nails along the back of his neck. “Don’t write anything off yet. Sometimes a little pain has its place.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

Kissing Gwen still carried a rush that made Brad’s thoughts reel and drove the blood straight to his dick. Everything about her—the way her breasts molded to his chest, the softness of her lips, the tiny whimpers and gasps she made—ignited flames inside him. He dove into the moment and devoured her mouth. Hands roaming each other’s bodies, they stumbled back until her legs collided with the table.

“Bedroom?” she asked between his nips at her lips.

“No.” He didn’t want to disrupt this moment. To detract from the throb of his cock, straining to be free. To be anything but inside her. To lose the chance to hear her scream in pleasure.

“I’m not sure the kitchen table will hold up to a rigorous pounding.”

“We’ll figure something out.” He spun her away from him, drew her hair aside, and kissed along her shoulder and the back of her neck.

She tilted her head closer and ground into him. “Impulsive. I like that.”

He never had before. This entire week had been an impulse. This entire arrangement should have crumbled long ago, but they made it work each time. “Pain, huh?”

“Maybe. A little, at least.”

God.
The playfulness in her voice made him harder. He hadn’t thought that was possible. He twisted his fingers in her hair and yanked her head back. Her delighted whimper snapped some of his bonds of restraint. “You should know, the last few nights, you’ve haunted my dreams,” he said.

He shoved past the hem of her T-shirt and dragged his palm up to her breast. When she groaned and squirmed, he squeezed harder through the satin of her bra. “I wake up rock hard, still feeling you wrapped around my dick, tight and wet.”

“Yesterday morning, I had the most vivid fantasy.” Her confession drove into his soul.

“Tell me.” He pinched a swollen nub, drinking in the sounds she made. Inhaling the flower of her shampoo. “What was I doing?”

“Everything.”

He yanked her hair harder and growled. “Details.”

“We couldn’t keep our hands off each other. Tearing off our clothes. Groping.” She drew in a stuttered breath when he pushed her bra aside and caressed her bare skin. “And then you were inside me, pounding. Filling me up.”

“No.” He hovered his mouth next to her ear, voice low, but firm. “Not what you think I want to hear. Tell me the truth.”

Her laugh faded into another gasp when he lowered his mouth to her neck and sucked hard. Her hips thrust in time to his attentions, her ass bumping against his erection each time.

When she spoke again, her words were strained. “We were in your condo, up in the loft. You teased me until I thought I might come from your fingers on my tits. Then you bent me over the railing and entered me from behind.”

He moved both hands to her breasts—playing, teasing, making her squirm. “I like the way you think. Did you get off in real life?”

“God, yes.” Her breathing came in short gasps. “I didn’t even bother with the toys.”

Maybe it was still a story, but if so, it was a good one. He let the words wrap around him and dove further into her imagination and reality. “I need to fuck you, hard and fast, and feel your tight pussy strangle my cock.”

“Just don’t be gentle.”

He let out a stuttered chuckle, undid her jeans, and shoved them and her panties to the ground. Her bare ass, round and flushed, taunted him. He was grateful he didn’t fumble, pulling the condom from his wallet and gliding it on. One hand between her shoulder blades, he pushed her until she supported her weight on her elbows.

He didn’t know if he’d last long. Not with how hard she’d made him. Holding his dick in one hand, he glided the other between her legs and parted her folds. She got so wet. He’d never had that before, and he loved it. When he found her clit, she tossed her head back with a mewl. When he stroked the swollen button, she pressed into his fingers. He knew those delicious groans; they really did haunt his dreams. She was close.

When she came, she pressed into his hand. As she hit the peak of her cries, he pulled away and shoved inside her, burying himself in a single stroke. She clenched around him, and instead of trailing off, her gasps became more punctuated.

He gripped her hip tight with one hand and slammed against her, as she matched his desperate pace. With his other hand, he grabbed her hair and yanked her head back. Her groan of pleasure amped his arousal and drew him to the brink.

“Fuck, Gwen. You’re feel incredible.” He drove deeper again. And again. “I can’t hold out. What do I have to do, to make you come again?”

“I don’t orgasm on command—”

Her retort melted into a sharp inhalation when he pulled her hair harder, until her back met his chest. He reached for her nipple again. Twisted and pulled in time with their thrusts. Every time he plunged into her, he swore he hit something. He struggled to keep himself from spilling inside her. Not yet.

When she screamed with pleasure again, milking his cock and shivering around him, he couldn’t hold back. He gripped her tight, as orgasm stole his reason and roared through him. After the peak faded, he continued to slide in and out, wanting to feel everything for as long as he could.

Finally, the frenzy slowed to a stop. She shuddered. Gave a soft giggle when he slid out of her. Palm on her stomach, he cradled her against his chest, not caring their clothes were in disarray and bunched in awkward places.

“I was wrong.” Her voice sounded strained, but happy.

“About?”

“I don’t
think
I like the idea of dating you. There’s no doubt at all.”

He rested his forehead on her shoulder. “Because the sex is good?”

“No. But it certainly doesn’t hurt.”

He smiled, though she couldn’t see it. Maybe things were going their way after all.

****

Brad knocked on Gwen’s door, trying to quell the anxious crawling inside. He wasn’t used to being on edge when it came to meeting new people.

Gwen insisted dinner with Jaycie and Ethan would be great. They knew about the engagement and the relationship, and this was the one place where Brad and Gwen could let their guard down, besides with each other.

He wasn’t certain he believed it. Or he cared more about making a good impression on her friends than he wanted to admit.

The last week had passed in a dizzying blur. He and Gwen spent half their nights together. Emily was on her best behavior with Drea, the way she always was before a custody hearing, so he hadn’t seen his daughter at all. He missed her but had faith things were about to go his way.

He and Gwen refused to give a wedding date when people asked, but he had one of his photographers take photos to post online, and she showed off the ring to anyone who asked.

Her door swung open, jarring him back to the present, and Gwen gave him a warm smile. “Hey. I’m glad you didn’t change your mind.”

“Never.” The exchange clanked in his skull, and he wondered if there was more to the words than it seemed on the surface. He boxed up the thought and kissed Gwen. When she pressed back, heat seared through him, burning from his toes to his fingertips, and tugging at his cock. He wondered if that feeling would ever get old. He couldn’t imagine it would.

She stepped back, grabbed his fingers, and urged him toward the back patio. “Jaycie and Ethan are already here.”

“Am I late?”

“Nope.”

“Then you’re all plotting against me?”

She slid open the glass door at the same time he asked the light-hearted question, and two heads turned in their direction. He recognized Jaycie, who stood behind the grill.

“We are.” The man who sat in one of the padded, wrought-iron deck chairs stood and extended his hand. “She’s told us all your weaknesses.”

Brad shook his hand, noting the tighter-than-necessary grip. Interesting. “Ethan, right?”

“Last time I checked.”

“I didn’t tell them
everything
.” Gwen handed Brad an open beer. “They don’t know you prefer Guinness over Bud Light.” She directed him toward a chair.

“But you like Gwen, so we already knew you had good taste.” As Jaycie spoke, she forked four stakes onto the grill. “We could have guessed. You’re a medium-rare kind of guy, right?”

“I am.” Brad was certain Ethan radiated more than a hint of irritability, but Gwen and Jaycie seemed fine, so he shoved the observation aside. Gwen said he was a game developer. Maybe the guy was a little antisocial and didn’t do well with new faces.

“Seriously, though, Jaycie was already over here, helping me with website stuff. I promise, no plotting at all.” Gwen took the seat next to him. “That, and she’s hard core about that grill. She only keeps it here because there’s no room for it at their apartment.”

Might as well make some small talk, and hope it blossomed into something more natural. “Jaycie, Gwen says you review video games. What’s your favorite this year?” Brad could have sworn Ethan sat up straighter at the question.

“Off the record?”

“Jace.” Warning weighted down Ethan’s voice.

“Hush, you grump.” She shook her spatula in his direction. “He’s practically family.”

“No, he’s
fake
practically family.”

Brad had no doubt now—barely guarded hostility spilled from Ethan. So much for relaxing and being open around Gwen’s friends. “Did I do something to piss you off, personally,” Brad asked, “or is this an overall jackass kind of thing you do?”

“I’m fine.” Ethan spoke through clenched teeth. The atmosphere in the back yard felt weighted down.

“You’re obviously not.”

When Ethan stood, his foot hit the concrete block with a heavy
thunk
. “You stalked Gwen online, you scammed her into pretending to marry you, for your own benefit, and now you sit here, pretending you’re a good guy and nothing’s wrong with this picture.”

This was bullshit. Brad planned to be polite, but he didn’t deal well with open attacks. He crossed the distance to Ethan and stopped when they were almost toe-to-toe. “If Gwen has a problem with it, she’ll tell me. She’s never hesitated to before. Besides, what are you? Self-proclaimed protector of every woman you know?”

Behind him, he heard a clank, like a beer bottle landing on a glass patio table.

“I’m her friend.” Ethan straightened his posture further. “Gwen’s important to us, and she doesn’t need some selfish asshole screwing with her life.” Behind him, Jaycie sighed and rubbed her face.

Brad’s pulse pounded in his ears now, and adrenaline raced through him. The urge to defend Gwen so completely was foreign, but he wasn’t willing to let it go. “If Gwen feels that way, she can say so.” His own vehemence surprised him. “She doesn’t need
some childish asshole
speaking on her behalf.”

“Then why are you doing exactly that?” Ethan asked.

“
Brad.
” Gwen’s sharp tone overlapped with Jaycie’s, “
Ethan.
”

Jaycie looked past him, expression stern, and then started giggling. Brad glanced over his shoulder, to see Gwen doing the same. The women exchanged looks again, and titters became full-blown laughter.

Ethan crossed his arms and frowned, but his expression twitched.

Brad surveyed the other three again. “What did I miss?”

Jaycie shook her head, grabbed Ethan, and nudged him back into his seat. She leaned in long enough to give him a drawn-out kiss, before stepping back to her cooking.

A flush rushed over Brad’s skin. He wasn’t sure if it was caused by witnessing the intimate moment or his jealousy that he and Gwen weren’t quite there yet.

Gwen intertwined her fingers with his and tugged him to sit.

“No.” Brad resisted. “You don’t get to laugh and then dismiss us, like we’re the silly ones. What’s so funny?”

Gwen and Jaycie exchanged another look. The two seemed capable of complete conversations that way. Gwen gave him a brief kiss and pushed playfully at his shoulder.

He finally sat again. “I’m waiting.”

She scooted her chair close enough that she never had to let go of his hand. “When we were growing up, Jaycie always wanted to be the princess, trapped in the tower, waiting for her prince.”

“Bullshit.” Despite his scowl, Ethan looked more relaxed than before.

“It’s true.” Jaycie checked the steaks and turned them. “The wicked witch had kidnapped me and was holding me hostage, and once my knight showed up, we’d fight our way out, side by side.”

Ethan almost smiled. “That, I believe.”

“And?” Brad still didn’t get the point. It was a cute story, but it wasn’t funny, and he didn’t see how it was relevant.

Gwen squeezed his hand. “I always used to ask Jaycie, why wait for the knight? If she could fight her way out, she should just do it.”

“And my counter was that I couldn’t do it alone.”

“But I always thought she was wrong. Never understood why she had to wait.”

“
Ha.
” Jaycie’s exclamation caught Brad off guard, making him jump. “I
knew
it.”