The Redemption (Filthy Rich Americans 4)

He didn’t stop. Every flick of his tongue made me contract, prolonging my orgasm, and he sighed long and deep when tension went out of my fingers in his hair. The grip of my climax loosened and faded, and after it was gone, I lay on the tabletop like a woman devoured.

Macalister’s hair was messy as he sat back and wiped a hand over his face, revealing a dark, victorious smile beneath.

“That was the second time I’ve brought you to orgasm.” His tone was powerful and smug. “Once is luck, but twice is skill.”

I was still breathless. “You’ve made me come more than twice.” I was honest in the aftermath. “Dozens of times while I was thinking about you.”

It didn’t take him long to do the math. He was a banker, after all. He understood that I’d fantasized about him a lot longer than he’d instructed me to, and he liked hearing it. Satisfaction flashed through his expression.

“I’ve made you come twice too, you know,” I teased.

He stood, only long enough to scoop me up and sit back down in his chair with me in his arms. “More than twice,” he conceded.

A thrill glanced down my spine and warmed my chest. “How many times?”

His hands were in my hair, fishing out the pins and dropping them to the tabletop in a neat stack, working until my hair tumbled free. “More than I’m comfortable admitting.”

I grinned, running my fingers through it to shake out the kinks. “Dirty old man.”

Up went his eyebrow, and tension corded the body holding me. His tone was frigid. “Yes, well, let me remind you that this old man has accrued the expertise in the places your former lovers were sorely lacking.”

I frowned. “I was kidding. And, yeah, you’re a lot older than me, but so what?” I slipped my hands around his face, cradling his jaw, and stared into his guarded eyes. Had I not made this clear? “I’m into it, Macalister.”

I was so into him.

But he looked skeptical, like it was too good to possibly be true.

“You don’t believe me?” I searched his face, and my hands bristled against the rough edges of his jaw that hadn’t seen a razor in at least sixteen hours. “Just ask Marist who I’ve always said was the hottest of the Hale men.”

I didn’t want to bring her up and invite him to think about her, but I needed to prove my point.

His skepticism increased, but I saw the faint hope that was buried inside. “You think I’m more attractive than my sons?”

I laughed softly. “Are you serious? Yeah. Fuck, yeah. And that was a while ago,” I threaded my hand through his hair, running the silver strands through my fingers lovingly, “even before you had this.”

His shoulders lifted with an enormous breath, and he didn’t bother to hide the impact my statement made on him, how I found his gray hair appealing. He did try to deflect, though, and his voice was uneven. “Your generation overuses that word.”

“Fuck?” I shrugged. “But it’s the best word.” He clenched his jaw at my casual use, and I smiled. “Is that what we’re going to do soon? Are you going to fuck me right here on your dining room table?”

“No,” he said, his hands clamping roughly on my waist. “I’ve brought you to orgasm with my fingers and my mouth.” He leaned in, nipping at my throat before kissing the hurt away. “We’ll go upstairs, you’ll climb into my bed, and then I’ll make you come with my fucking cock.”

TWENTY-TWO

MACALISTER

THERE HADN’T BEEN A WOMAN IN MY BED since the night Marist had forced me to watch her, demonstrating what she’d said I’d never have, and I was anxious to wipe that memory away.

Sophia stiffened in my arms at the order I’d just issued.

“You want me to walk through your house naked?”

“I’ll be the only one to see it. My staff is discreet.”

I gathered her things, carried them for her, and marveled at her perfectly nude body as she lifted her chin and climbed the grand staircase, her hips swaying with each step, taunting me. A man my age didn’t deserve to bed a woman like her, with a body like that, but I justified it by telling myself I could give her pleasure no one else could.

She was shivering as she strolled into my room, padding on her bare feet to stand beside one of the green chairs in the sitting area, and waited there for further instruction. Her arms crossed over her chest, her stunning breasts barely visible beneath the wavy curtain of her blonde hair.

It was dark in the room, but the drapes were open and the exterior lights on, and it caused a yellow glow to pour across my bed like a spotlight.

I set her clothes down on the low table between the chairs and moved to her, running my palms up and down her arms in an attempt to warm her. Her skin was smooth and soft, and I inhaled the apple smell of her, letting her invade as much of my senses as possible. She’d taken me in her body, and I wanted to do the same. Sex was infinitely more pleasurable to me when I was immersed in my partner.