A Million Guilty Pleasures (Million Dollar Duet 2)

She moaned and groaned on the other end of the line, quietly so as not to disturb the rest of the household, but she was reeling and I could tell she needed more.

“Ride me, Lanie. Harder.” I imagined her ass slapping against my thighs as her tits bounced with her movements. My hand quickened and I bit into my lip so hard I thought for sure I had split it.

“Feels so good,” she moaned quietly. I could hear her breaths and the soft tap of her headboard as she rode the dildo beneath her.

“Hold on, kitten. Just hold on,” I urged her, almost there myself.

“Noah, I need you. Please?” she begged, seeking her release. “Give me more.”

“I promised to give you everything you need. Remember? Didn’t I promise you that? Let go of the headboard, Lanie. Use your fingers. Find the spot, the one that needs that little something more. Work it with your fingers and when I tell you to, I want you to pinch it.”

Her breathing was heavy, a keening sound building on the other end of the line until it went throaty.

“Now, kitten. Pinch it now.”

“Oh, fuck!” she called out, her voice a husky whisper as she tried to be quiet. I could practically see her head fall back and her body go rigid under the power of her orgasm.

And that vision took me exactly where I needed to go as well. “Right there. Right … fucking … there.” I growled out my release, my hips bucking into my fisted hand. Squeezing my cock tight and pressing the pad of my thumb to the tip, semen shot out like thick, molten lava from a spewing eruption and landed on my stomach. I milked my cock, my hips pumping in uneven intervals until the job was done.

“Noah, are you still there?” Lanie said, picking up the phone and turning off the speaker. She was still panting, but her voice was rich and smooth.

I threw my arm over my face and fought to regain my composure. “Yeah, kitten. I’m here.”

“I miss you.”

Yeah, I fucking missed her, too.

It took about four hours to get to Hillsboro, eight hours round trip. Which meant I had enough time to get there and be back in time for work. I’d gone over the calculation at least a dozen times in my head as I lay there watching the minutes on the clock count down to midnight. Despite the release I’d had two hours prior, I found it impossible to sleep … yet again. There was a thin line between love and obsession, and I was afraid I was dangerously close to stepping over it (although it could’ve been a pesky little thing called sleep deprivation that made me think like that). I needed a cure, soon, and I knew I had two more days to wait for it. The problem was that I had absolutely no intention of wasting any of the couple of days I had with her on sleep, so the cycle was just going to keep repeating itself until we figured out some way to be together. Or I went crazy, whichever came first.

I climbed out of bed and slipped on a pair of jeans before I went downstairs to grab a glass of milk or a shot of Patrón—whatever the hell was going to work best to get me to fall asleep. Only I was distracted when I reached the bottom floor, because everywhere my eyes fell, I saw a vision of her. Lanie on her knees in front of the door; Lanie storming through said door after torching the lingerie she clearly didn’t want; Lanie descending the stairs looking like Cinderella on her way to the ball; Lanie on the stairs, tears streaming down her face after I’d just fucked her there angrily. I closed my eyes to that image and was rewarded with one of Lanie in my shower immediately afterward, her beautiful body soaked and trembling as she held me under the spray.

I walked through the house until I reached the piano room, and she was there, too, splayed across my baby grand, cradled in my lap on the bench as we made love. In my office, there was Lanie wearing nothing but my silk tie as she stood in the doorway.

I missed her so much. My heart ached as my mind sifted through countless images of her, some innocent, some not so much: her beautiful smiles, the sexy little sneers from a time when she hated me, the erotic expression on her face as she came for me over and over again, the look of contentment when she told me she loved me—everything. Maybe I could survive without her by my side, but I sure as hell didn’t want to.

Distance be damned—I needed to see her.

With bare feet and no shirt, I rushed out to the foyer, grabbed my keys and wallet from the dish on the side table, and ran to my Lamborghini. A few sprinkles of rain dotted my windshield as I pulled out of the garage and made my way toward Hillsboro, toward her.

I sped like a maniac. Wet roads were not exactly prime driving conditions for a sleek sports car, but I didn’t care. I had to make it to her with time to spare to hold her in my arms before I had to turn back around and leave her again, and the Lamborghini was my fastest means of transportation at the time. I made a mental note to invest in a helicopter the very next day.

The rain started to fall harder along the drive, and with each slosh of water under my tires, with each swipe of the blade across the windshield, I lost myself further and further into thoughts of Lanie.

I was haunted by the dream of her, and by the reality that had unfolded the day I took her back to her parents’ house two weeks earlier. That cottage, the meadow, her laughter, the smile on her face—it was like the dream had come to life before my very eyes.

I could still hear the sound of her voice, sad and lonely as she said she missed me. It echoed through my mind and caused a tightening in my chest. I was sad and lonely for her, too. And I didn’t give a good goddamn if that meant I was pussy-whipped. I couldn’t think of any other pussy I’d rather be whipped by.

I stepped on the gas pedal, forcing the Lamborghini to speed even faster down the road toward my destination.

Night surrounded me as I sped along the empty roads, my headlights reflecting off the wet pavement before me. I was nearly there—just a few short miles and I’d have her in my arms.

By the time I pulled onto her street, the rain outside had already become a torrential downpour. I killed my headlights, not wanting to alert Lanie or her parents to my presence, and parked a bit down from her house. There was a dim, flickering light from Lanie’s bedroom window, casting shadows like dancing images across her wall—obviously a candle. The rest of the house was dark, and not a soul was stirring on the street.

I got out of the car and closed the door as quietly as I could, but apparently even that was too loud. First one dog and then another began to bark until it sounded like a whole pack of the fuckers surrounded me.

Cold rain pelted my bare skin, the merciless wind whipping it into sheets. Within seconds I was drenched from head to toe and freezing my balls off, but I gave not a flying fuck. My body began to shiver under the elements, but I only had one thing on my mind: my girl. Of course, if I’d used one ounce of that energy to think out my plan a little more thoroughly, I would’ve known what my next step was going to be. I couldn’t very well ring the doorbell because I’d be greeted by the barrel of Mack’s shotgun aimed at my boys.