Sledgehammer (Hard to Love 2)

Ripping his lips away, he pants and says, “He can touch you, but I can’t?” One large hand cradles my neck, the other shoves through my hair. There will be no doubt about what we were doing once we rejoin the party.

“Really? You pulled me away for that?” I reply as breathless as he is.

“He’s all over my girl and I’m supposed to stand there and watch him. He needs to get his own goddamn girl. What’s so funny?”

“Your girl?” The giggles won’t stop. “You sound like you stepped out of a bad romance novel.”

“You’re my girl,” he repeats, his voice projecting the Neanderthal brand of steely determination. “This is mine,” he says and plants a tender kiss on my lips. “This is mine,” he says and yanks my dress up, exposing my lace thong. He pets me over my underwear and my eyes flutter drunkenly. “This is mine,” he says and pulls my underwear aside, rubbing my clit with the rough pad of his thumb.

Sure! Whatever! It’s yours, all yours––just keep doing that! I’m screaming on the inside. I’m also pretty sure the same words tumbled out of me an incoherent mess.

“And this is definitely the fuck mine,” he says as he slips his fingers inside of me. The impatient sounds coming out of me are downright embarrassing. “Now do I sound like a bad romance novel?”

“Oh no, no, no,” I whine, clutching his arms. His fingers are working magic, stroking me with a certainty that has me on the verge of coming in seconds. The man’s got skills, he really does. “No, you sound like one of the really, really good ones.”

“You think you can walk away from this?” he whispers against my lips. “I’m going to make it impossible for you to leave me.”

Our eyes meet and what I find gives me pause. I see need, pain, a dash of something tender. The tenderness is what makes my stomach churn. For the first time he can’t negotiate his way out of a problem, for what he wants. His easy smiles and Prince Charming act, all the tools in his arsenal, the ones he’s always relied upon, won’t do him any good. They won’t work on me and he knows it.

“Fancy––” I stroke his cheek. “That’s not going to happen.”

As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I regret them. This happens to be an almost daily occurrence for me, hence it doesn’t warrant alarm. What does, however, is how quickly Ethan’s demeanor changes from vulnerable to lethal.

“Watch me.” Maybe it’s the determined look on his face. Maybe it’s the conviction in his voice. Whatever it is, nothing raises my hackles more than the idea that he may accomplish it. He smiles then. One of his sexy smiles that promises to be my downfall.

His strokes grow steady and sure, his thumb drawing circles on my sweet spot exactly the way he knows I like it. I come so hard I have to bite down on his shoulder to muffle the scream. Weak kneed, I sag against him while he holds me close. Then he pulls his fingers out and licks them, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Get on your knees. Let’s put that pretty mouth of yours to good use.”

Huh?

Any other time in my life, with any other person, that would have earned a punch to the nut sac. But with him? Without having to be asked twice, I drop to my knees at the altar of Ethan.

He pushes his suit jacket out of the way and plants his hands on his hips. “Take it out.” Even in the dim light of the utility closet, I can read the undisguised hunger on his face. Eagerly, I do as I’m told, unbuckling his belt and dragging the zipper of his trousers down. I’m so giddy it feels like I’m unwrapping a present a day before Christmas. They drop to his ankles. I rub my mouth and nose over his hard-on, the one begging to be released from the confines of his boxer briefs. The musky scent of him mixed with laundry detergent and soap is crack cocaine to my libido.

The deep moan coming from above forces me to look up. His eyes beg me to continue. And I do. I drag his underwear halfway down his muscular thighs, cup and squeeze his sac, his erection jerking in response.

“Perfect,” I murmur. Because he is. God help me, he is. I wrap my lips around the tip and grab him firmly at the base. His knees wobble, and his body sways. I lick and suck, pumping my hand in a rhythm I know he favors.

“Holy shit,” I hear him mumble between short burst of excited exhales.

“Hold on to something, Fancy McButterpants. I’m about to blow your mind.” And I did. I don’t make promises I can’t keep.