Hate to Lose You

I bite the inside of my lip to keep from reacting. Because if I let too much of what I’m feeling show right now, I’m worried I’ll never be able to do what I need to do in a couple week’s time… Leave. “That’s when they caught up with you?” I ask, and I’m proud that my voice hardly wavers with feeling at all.

He nods again. “That day I disappeared… They cornered me in the store. Talked about dragging you into things too, so I figured… Best just to go with them.”

I press my lips together hard. “Bronson, I had no idea…”

“Which was exactly the way I wanted it,” he says, bending to kiss my temple. “I didn’t want you involved, Daisy. If I couldn’t protect myself, then at least I could protect you from the moment all my years of terrible decisions finally caught up with me.”

“But you said they beat you?”

“Something awful.” He laughs, shaking his head. “They broke three ribs, fractured my arm—”

“Jesus, Bronson.” I pull away from him to stare in shock.

“It doesn’t matter. Not anymore.” He flashes me a smile tinged with regret. “It’s all in the past now. My father paid off my debts with interest, and then some. But it’s why I can’t disappoint him now, or just blow off this job. You can understand that, right? This is about more than just my inheritance. I owe him. No matter how I feel about the way my family controlled my life from day one… I can’t deny that I owe my father everything now. He saved my life.”

“That doesn’t mean he owns it,” I whisper.

Bronson shakes his head, but not like he’s denying it. He steps close to me, and bends to kiss my forehead. The tip of my nose. I tilt my face toward his, but he hesitates, his lips inches from mine. “I’ve got to hand it to you, Daisy. You always have your own view of things.”

“The right view,” I whisper back, smiling hard.

“And you never give up on it.” He tilts his head to one side, considering me. “That’s one of the things I love about you.”

The word sinks like a weight straight to my belly. Love. Does he…? Can he really mean…? I don’t have time to think about it, because his lips brush mine, and I part them, automatically, even as my arms lift of their own accord to wrap tightly around his neck.

I sink into his kiss. Lose myself, the way I always do with him. He pulls me against him, and I lift one leg to wrap it around his waist, eager for nothing more than to be pressed as close to him as possible. But then I remember where I am, who I’m with, and I jerk away with a gasp, feeling like I just ripped my own heart out.

“We can’t.” I stumble away from him, only a few inches, yet it feels like a million miles. “Bronson… Look, our deal… I shouldn’t have shaken on it.” I force myself to meet his gaze. “It wasn’t an honest deal on my side. I really do think you’re helping the company now, that you’re going to rebuild, but… I can’t stay. No matter what.”

“Why?” He steps closer again. Forces my head back, makes me meet his eye. “You don’t have to leave, Daisy. What did you just tell me? Nobody else owns your life. There’s no one forcing you to go.”

“But I still have to,” I insist.

He kisses me again, harder this time. When we part this time, we’re both breathing faster. “I don’t want to hear that,” he whispers, his lips moving against mine.

I smirk, lifting an eyebrow at him. “Well then. How do you intend to shut me up, Mr. Burke?”

“Mm…” He sizes me up. “I have a few ideas, Ms. Rider.” Then, without warning, he catches me in his arms, so quickly it makes me squeal in surprise, and carries me a few steps to a broad, flat rock nearby. He lays me along it, and lies down on top of me, his weight heavy, the hot press of his body reassuring and steady. I might need to leave soon, but for now, right now, I don’t have anywhere to be except here in his arms.

Which is good, because I couldn’t even think about walking away right now. Not when he dips one hand down to part my thighs, his palm hot against my skin.

I hesitate, glancing around us. “Anyone could walk up here right now,” I whisper, half-laughing, half-serious as I study the path behind us. But we haven’t passed anyone else on the trail today—considering how beautiful an afternoon it is, I’m surprised. But maybe everyone else is busy doing what Bronson did as a kid, and what I’ve been doing the other months I’ve lived here… Being too distracted by city life to escape out here to the countryside.

“They could,” Bronson is saying, a smirk on his face that tells me he doesn’t care. “But that just makes it hotter, doesn’t it, Ms. Rider? Anyone could discover us at any moment…” His hand slides up my thigh, under my skirt, which he inches farther up my legs. I take a deep breath, almost a gasp.

“You are bad, Mr. Burke.”

“Very.” His voice dips low again, and with that, he bends to kiss my neck, down to my collarbone, his tongue dipping into the hollow at the base of my throat, like he’s tasting me.

At the same time, he slides down my body, kissing his way along, but he leaves my shirt on, my skirt too. It’s torturous, to feel his mouth so close to me, pressing against me, but separated by that thin stretch of fabric still. I arch my back up, pressing toward him, and he tugs my shirt up a little, just high enough to kiss my belly, nipping gently at the edge of my hip bone, and then dipping his tongue into my navel, swirling it against me like he’s savoring the taste of my skin, salty and sweet at the same time.

“Fuck, Bronson,” I whisper, my eyes fluttering half-shut, fixated on the bright blue sky overhead, cheery and beautiful. The ocean breeze drifts across us as he inches lower, following the line of my navel down toward the edge of my skirt. He undoes the clasp, and the wind picks up, cool enough to make me shiver, carrying a hint of salt in it, though the sun beats down warm enough that I don’t feel cold. Just alight, like every nerve ending in my body is extra sensitive right now.

He peels my skirt off, pulls it down, and I arch my hips up against him to allow him to yank it off, giving him access to do whatever he wants to me now.

He leans in to kiss my pussy through my panties, his tongue pressing into the fabric hard enough that I can feel it against my clit, which is already swollen with want, throbbing, aching for him the way I always do. “God, you taste amazing, Daisy.” He leans back to smirk up at me, across the flat expanse of my belly, my body stretched out on this rock out in the open air. Out where anyone could stumble across us at any moment.

He’s right, though. It does make it hotter.

“And I love how wet you get for me, every damn time.” He chuckles softly, reaching a hand up to stroke the length of my slit, still through the fabric of my panties, but even with the fabric between us, I can feel how wet I am, how soaked my panties have gotten.

His eyes catch mine. Sear into them.

“I want to taste you,” I say, gazing down at him. “You always get to go first.”

“Ladies should always come first,” he replies with a wink. But his eyes light up with desire, and he leans back a little, considering me. “I suppose we could come to a compromise, though.” He turns his body, rotates slowly over me, until he’s crouched above me on all fours, his mouth lowered once more to me, but with the hem of his jeans right above my face.

I don’t need any prompting. I reach up and undo the clasp of his belt, eager for him. I push his jeans down, and grip his cock through his boxers with both hands, tracing the outline, my fingertips wandering from his base up to his tip.

He pauses to tilt his head and smile up—or down?—at me. “Let’s see who loses control first,” he says, and then he leans down to catch my panties in his teeth and with a jerk of his head, peels them down my thighs.

I reach up to catch his boxers with both hands and draw them down his legs. I push them far enough down for them to slide off his legs. He steps out of them, kicks them aside, but I don’t wait for him to finish situating himself. I’m already reaching up to grip the base of his cock with both hands, drawing him down towa

rd my mouth, eager.

I kiss the tip of him, and flick my tongue across the little bead of precum that gathered there, and my eyes flutter shut as I let out a low moan of pleasure. He tastes so fucking good. Better than I’d ever imagined a guy’s cock could—but there’s just something about his particular scent, his flavor. He drives me wild every time.

“Right there, dirty girl,” Bronson whispers against my skin. Meanwhile, he’s parting my thighs, kissing my mound, his lips soft against my freshly-shaved skin. He tilts his head back, his tongue searing hot as he inches his way toward my clit, an inch at a time. With the cool ocean breeze drifting across us, it makes my skin feel cooler wherever his tongue has been, leaving me wet. But where his tongue still is, feels searing hot, and the contrast makes my nerves more sensitive than ever.

He draws my legs apart at the same time that I suck the tip of his cock between my lips. He moans, and the vibration makes me inhale sharply, as his mouth closes around my pussy lips, his tongue parting them, flicking along my slit. I moan too, and his cock jumps between my lips, which makes me smile and reach around to grip his ass, pulling him closer to me, pressing him inch by inch into my mouth. At the same time I press my tongue up against the underside of his cock, clenching my lips tightly around his shaft. He’s so thick, he fills my mouth, and I love that, love the way he fills my mouth.