Chapter Nine
He brushes his nose across my mound and flicks his tongue against me. The sensation is rough through the lace of my thong, and it makes me jerk and whimper at the same time. He flattens the end of his tongue over my * and rubs repeatedly in slow circles. The lace grazes over me, heightening the pleasure he’s giving me.
My knees give out, bending a little at a jolt of pleasure shooting through my p-ssy. Aaron lets go of me with one hand and cups my ass, righting me.
“Stay standing.” His voice is raw.
I lock my knees in place. He slides my thong down my legs, leaving it hooked around my ankles, and encourages me to open my legs a little. I do it, unable to do anything but what he wants.
Unable to do anything but release the low moan in my throat when his mouth covers my p-ssy completely.
My hips push into him, pull away, thrash, and twist. He continues his gentle onslaught against me with his tongue. No part of me is unexplored, no part untouched by the gentle swipe of his tongue.
He squeezes my ass in time with every movement his tongue makes. My legs bend again at the heat building inside, and his squeeze becomes a sharp slap.
“Stand!”
I moan in pleasure and frustration as I fight my natural response. I shouldn’t be standing as this pleasure ripples gently through me. I should be collapsing, ready for the final hit. The leg-trembling hit that I’m not supposed to be standing for.
I explode on that final thought. I cry out, only held up by Aaron holding me in place. His tongue continues to work against me even as my hips thrash against him. My eyes close, and my whole body is tight. He keeps his mouth on me until the final wave sweeps through me and leaves me quivering against him.
He lowers me to him and wraps my arms around his neck. His arms go around me, strong and assured, and he carries me from the room.
“What are you doing?” I say against his neck. Unable to resist his pulse pounding before my eyes, I close my lips over the throbbing spot and suck lightly.
He groans, his body going taut, his step faltering. I smirk at it. I love eliciting that response from him. I love bringing him to his knees.
“I’m not f*cking you anywhere other than my bed.”
He drops me on it unceremoniously, and I scramble against the soft sheets, wearing only my bra and my heels.
“Nowhere else?”
Aaron removes his clothes, keeping his eyes on mine, and stalks toward me. With his hands either side of me, he leans forward on the bed until he’s right over me.
“Just for tonight. There are plenty of surfaces in this house just waiting for me to lay your gorgeous body back on while I f*ck you senseless.”
He unclips my bra, and after sliding it down my arms, he whips it from beneath me. It flies across the room, hitting the wall with a small thud before falling to the floor. I pull my gaze from the bra and find the pools of unadulterated lust staring down at me.
“Even that wall?” I whisper.
He trails his hands to my thighs. “Even that wall.”
“What about the kitchen side?”
“All of them.”
“The sofa?”
“Every cushion.”
He pushes the end of his cock inside me, and I feel the pull in my muscles as they stretch to accommodate him and let him in farther.
“And the desk?”
Aaron reaches behind his back and hooks my ankles together. He leans over me slowly, lowering his body on top of mine, and bites my bottom lip gently. “Especially the f*cking desk.”
He fills me in one swift thrust. I throw my head back at the exquisite feeling of having him inside me, of being fully around him and connected to him. Of having his breath hot against my cheek and the tightening of his jaw as I tilt my hips up, letting him drive deeper into me.
His thrusts are hard, each withdraw as slow as the last, and the mixture of them repeatedly begs my body to respond. He sinks deeper until he hits the end of me. A strangled cry filled with pleasure and pain escapes me, and Aaron growls in his throat.
He slides his hand to the small of my back and holds my hips up as the slowness of a moment ago dissipates into a frenzy of hard pounds that pushes a moan from me with each one. I grip his back, my whole body lifting from the bed aside from my shoulders.
My muscles clench as the orgasm approaches. As my deliriously mad oblivion creeps up on me, ready to explode and shatter any semblance of rationality into nothing.
“Dayton. F*ck!” Aaron growls against my jaw.
“F*ck!” I arch into him, and he takes my mouth roughly. My nails drag across his skin, and he takes my bottom lip between his teeth and tugs in payback.
That undoes me.
Muscles I didn’t know I had constrict with the sheer force of the pleasure assaulting my body. I vaguely hear Aaron’s curse as he comes through the pounding of my heart in my ears. He’s buried in me to the hilt, and my p-ssy is clenching and clenching and clenching, drawing everything from him, drawing my own out.
His lips take mine tenderly, and he kisses me this way until my body goes limp beneath him.
Without a word, he lifts me and carries me into his bathroom. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I register the same neutral tones that are prevalent throughout the apartment, but I’m more interested when he sets me on the side of the bath and starts to run the taps.
I’m too tired to ask what he’s doing. Why he’s running a bath at whatever time it might be.
I watch the tub fill up with hot water, the bubbles steadily growing. Aaron kills the taps when it’s half full and steps in. He swings my legs over the side, making me smile, and pulls me in with him.
He sits in front of me, my legs resting over his, and I lean into him. I wrap my arms around his waist and close my eyes, focusing on the beating of his heart beneath my cheek.
The rhythmic beat is as soothing to me as the water. The feeling of his body against mine is as comforting and grounding as submerging myself in the depths of the bath. It’s more freeing than swimming endless lengths of a pool.
Because it’s real, and it’s tangible, and it’s something that won’t slip through my fingers if I hold tight enough.
“What are you doing?” I mumble when I feel him tying my hair up.
“I don’t want to get it wet,” he answers.
A few seconds later, the sound of a bottle squirting reaches my ears, and I feel the cold shock of the shower gel against my back. I squeal and squirm.
Aaron laughs, his chest vibrating, and rubs his hands over my back. It warms instantly, and I smile as he washes my body. Every part of me is washed, even my submerged legs. He grabs a sponge and trickles the water over me, washing the soap from my body, the whole time without me moving.
The man is magical. And really quite wonderful.
“Come on, Bambi,” he says softly, easing me back.
I slide from him, letting him get out, and stare up at him. He wraps a towel around his waist and grabs me. I giggle quietly at the ease he lifts me from the tub with and grab a towel for myself.
I sit on the bed and watch as he dries himself. And as the little water droplets cascade down his silky skin. Each one is gradually soaked up by the towel, and a pair of boxer briefs hangs low on his hips.
He towels me off tenderly, making sure every part of me is dry, and instructs me to lift my arms and legs until he’s certain there isn’t a drop of water left on my skin.
“Wait here.” He disappears into his closet. I’m sitting naked on his bed, the only light the city lights flooding through the window, and I’ve never felt more comfortable.
He emerges from the closet, a pair of panties in hand.
“Is that…?”
“I ordered more.” He hands them to me with a knowing smirk.
“That’s impossible. It was like”—I glance at the clock on the nightstand—“six hours ago.”
“And I called while you were getting ready and had some stuff delivered. My housekeeper put it away.”
“Your housekeeper?”
Holy crap. Someone else touched my panties.
Someone who isn’t Aaron.
He pulls them up my legs, making me stand, and lightly smacks my ass. “Don’t worry. She only comes in when no one is here. Her schedule will be different now.”
I roll my eyes and climb into his bed. Soft. Warm. Sex-smelling.
Aaron-smelling, rich and musky and woody and masculine.
He gets in next to me and pulls me into him. Our legs tangle. His arms go around me and he holds me tight. I press my face into his neck, breathing him in.
“How am I doing on the making it up to you?” he mutters after a long moment of silence.
“Not bad.” I smile against his skin.
“Not bad?”
My smile widens, but I say nothing. If I justify it, I’ll let him in further than I need to. I’ll tell him what he doesn’t need to know yet. He still has work to do. He still has to prove everything to me, make me know we’re solid and that everything we have is secure. That it’s really for real this time.
“Thank you for looking out for me tonight,” I whisper, snuggling in even farther. I could be under his skin and it wouldn’t be close enough.
“Oh,” he breathes, kissing my head. “I’ll always look after you, Dayton. Always.”
***
Aaron opens the car door and lets me climb out. “You could stay at my apartment.”
“I need to be here. I need to pack,” I remind him, patting his chest. “Besides, I don’t want to put any crazy moving ideas in your presumptuous little head.”
“God forbid.” He drops his head and brushes his lips across mine. “I’ll be back when my meetings are over to pick you up.”
“What if I want to stay at my place tonight?”
“Then I’ll make sure to get some spare clothes before I come over.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Did I invite you to stay over?”
“You don’t need to,” he mutters, running his thumb along my jaw. “I’m going to anyway.”
“Is this part of making it up to me?”
“No. This is part of making sure you can’t walk away again.”
“By being together almost all of the time?”
“Yes. Get used to it, sweetheart. It’s not changing anytime soon.”
He kisses me chastely and moves me to the side. He climbs back in the car with a wicked smirk, leaving me standing on the sidewalk as it pulls away.
“Bastard,” I mutter, pulling my keys from my pocket and unlocking the door. My voicemail blinks at me, and I jab the button as I walk past.
“Dayton? Call me when you get this. We need to talk.” Aunt Leigh’s voice is sharp and to the point, as always, and I sigh. Talking with my aunt right now is the last thing I want to do.
I reach for the phone when it rings again. Her name flashes on the tiny screen.
“Hey,” I answer. “What’s wrong?”
“Oh good. You’re in. Where have you been?”
“Uh…”
“Dayton.”
I cringe as I answer. “With Aaron.”
“Mmm. Monique called. Will you be at home in ten minutes?”
“Yes. I just got back.”
“Good. Stay there. I’m coming over.”
Fantastic.
The line cuts before I can say goodbye, and I drop the phone with another sigh. There isn’t a single part of me looking forward to this. I know what she’ll say, what she’ll remind me of. This conversation is unnecessary.
I don’t care and I don’t want to hear it.
Besides, it’s a little late to not fall in love, isn’t it?
I hear the rumble of her Audi outside as I pour myself a cup of coffee. She lets herself in without as much as a single knock. Her heels click almost formidably against the wooden floors as she walks through to join me in the kitchen, and I hold an empty mug over my shoulder.
“Coffee?”
“Sit,” she demands, knocking on the island.
“I guess not,” I mumble, setting the mug down and turning.
I sit opposite her. Her lips are pursed, her eyes narrowed, and her nails rap against the marble countertop repeatedly. I reach over and smack her hand down. F*cking irritating sound.
“So. You’re off the books.” No questions. A simple statement that sounds so final.
“Temporarily,” I correct her. “For now.”
She unwinds her lightweight scarf from her neck and lays it on the island. “So, what? You’re going to spend however long with Aaron Stone then just go back to your job? Or is he the kind of man to let you continue f*cking other men every day and not let it impact your relationship?”
I stare at her flatly.
“Because that’s what they all are, honey. They’re all good with it until they’re not and they leave you in the dust as they speed away to something better.”
“My aunt, always the cynic.”
“Realistic, Day. I’m realistic.”
I get back up and pour my coffee. “You would know, right? One marriage accounts for all the men in the world.”
“It accounts for all the men with an ounce of self-respect. You and I both know Aaron won’t stand for you escorting if you’re in a relationship.”
My fingers curl around the lip of the counter, and I take a deep breath. “I know. He’s made that crystal clear several times.”
“So he should. Call girls don’t have relationships and—”
“They don’t fall in love. Yeah, I know.”
“In theory.”
“Theory is bullshit without reality.”
My aunt’s lips curve into a smirk that is identical to mine. “Precisely, Day. Theories are just that. They can be tossed aside as easily as the one before them.”
I chew the inside of my cheek and study her. The hardness has gone from her eyes. All the tension has seeped from her shoulders, and she almost looks relaxed. Alarm bells ring in the depths of my mind.
“Where is this going?”
Aunt Leigh pauses, nibbling on her bottom lip. “Will you give it up? For him? If it’s him or your job, will you step away from the escorting world and give him everything you have?”
“Yes,” I whisper without a thought. “If that’s what it comes to, yes. I’ll walk away for him.”
“Good.”
My eyes shoot up to hers. “What?”
“Good,” she repeats, her voice firmer than a moment ago.
The stool scrapes against the floor as she stands and turns away from me. She looks out the doors that lead to my backyard and briefly rests her forehead against the glass.
“Good,” she says yet again. “Do it. If you have the choice, take the escape. Take the way out. Don’t let your job ruin your relationship.”
Silence lingers as I process her words. They’re soft and heartfelt. They’re tinged—no, they’re saturated—in regret. They hit where it hurts.
“Aunt Leigh?”
“You know I didn’t. You know I chose escorting over my marriage to Luke. You know it killed the five years we’d spent together.” She exhales heavily. “I chose the power and control over the love I had for him, and it destroyed us.”
“You’ve lived with that for six years? Why didn’t you say anything?”
She turns, a wan smile on her face. “I gave it up six months later. Do you remember?”
I nod.
“It was simply six months too late. If I’d left when Luke told me he was leaving, we could have saved our marriage. I didn’t. We didn’t.”
“Why are you telling me this? After all the times you’ve told me call girls don’t fall in love, why now?”
She crosses the kitchen to me and cups my cheeks in her hands in a rare show of her maternal side. “Dayton, I’m telling you so you don’t make the same mistake I did Call girls don’t fall in love…until they do. Don’t choose power and control over love because, when you lose that control, you have nothing else left. With love, at least you’ll always have something.”
“You’re telling me to leave Monique.” Now it’s my turn to state a fact.
“I’m telling you to do whatever you need to, to stay true to yourself.” She pats my cheek softly and steps back, grabbing her purse. “Whatever that might be.”
I watch as she strolls from my kitchen, completely dumbfounded by that conversation. Never did I imagine she felt that way—that she regretted her lifestyle.
Would that be me? If I don’t give Aaron everything, will I look back in five years’ time and regret it?
Is not giving him everything even an option?
I sink into the stool she just vacated. My head is spinning. First, my agent tells me to believe in true love. Then, my cold and cynical aunt tells me to pick love over the job she so adored.
I feel like I’ve entered the Twilight zone.
I drop my head to the table and turn it to the side. And stare right at Aunt Leigh’s scarf. I reach for my cell on the other side of the island and dial her number. It rings to voicemail.
“Hey, Aunt Leigh, you left your scarf—” The rumble of a car outside distracts me. “Oh, never mind. You’re here.”
I drop the phone, grab the silk scarf, and walk to the front door to meet her.
But when I open it, it’s not my aunt.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Naomi stands in front of me, her blond hair pulled back in a bun, and her long, fake eyelashes fanning out as she blinks at me. “We need to talk.”
She moves forward to enter the house, but I step in front of her, pulling the door shut behind me.
“Is that so?”
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
“You’re the ex-wife of my boyfriend. What do you think?”
Her lips curl into an evil smile. “It’s really in your best interests to invite me in, Mia.”
F*ck.