Bombshell (Hollywood A-List #1)(64)

Oh, he didn’t, did he?

“Eat my *, Mr. Sinclair. Like a southern boy eats pie. I want to come in your mouth.”

“Before I make you come, you need to agree. This isn’t the last time. I’m not finished with you.”

But how?

How will that work?

I pushed all the questions out of my mind when his tongue ran from clit to opening and back. My mouth opened and he reached up, putting his finger on my lips and I sucked it, digging my fingers in his hair.

Sometimes Nicole woke early, and with the overstimulation of the morning, it was possible she could get up. I prayed for that nap, sucking his finger harder when I thought I’d burst. I didn’t make a sound. Bit it back. Sleeping child. So close.

He stopped. That was when I gasped.

He looked up from between my legs, a smile touching the corners of his eyes. Laugh lines and pores, just like the man on the billboard, only better.

“You close?” he asked.

“God, yes.”

He got up on his knees, stretching magnificence over me.

“Have you ever tasted yourself?” he asked, lips on mine, not kissing. Not yet, just touching me with them.

Had I? I didn’t even remember. I couldn’t even stir up a particular memory of another sexual encounter. I kissed his lips, his cheek, tasting myself on him. Tart sex and musky water. In my world, the relationship was so forbidden that I was more uninhibited than ever, putting my tongue on the lips that had been between my legs.

“I was telling the truth.” I felt the head of his dick on my inner thigh. The lower half of my body gravitated toward it. “I can’t get pregnant. We can skip a step.”

He didn’t answer right away, but cast his eyes down to my lips. He’d skipped a step before, and it ended with a little girl. Why should he trust me?

“Or not,” I added quickly. “But I don’t have anything. And I don’t know if you brought protection into the shower.”

“I’ve been around. I always wrap it up.”

“Except the one time.” I smiled a little to take the accusation out of the words. I didn’t think he was lying. He was remembering with a scalpel.

“You don’t have to trust me.”

“I know I don’t.” I spread my legs wider in answer.

“Go ahead, teacup. Put it where you want it.” I tingled. Filthy. Raw. He moved his hips, grazing it over me.

I swallowed. Reached down. Stroked him. My thumb found the drop of wetness at the tip and rolled it around.

I wanted it immediately, and I wanted to make it last. I pulled him close and ran his tip along my seam. I groaned. He’d gotten me so close with his mouth. I wanted to make this the f*ck of his life, but I didn’t know how.

I put his dick at my opening and pushed forward.

“All the way,” I said, and he thrust all the way in. Stopped. Closed his eyes. Sucked in air. I yelped in pleasure. And he went in to the root, full friction against my clit. “Hard. Hard, Brad, hard.”

He gave it hard enough to hurt, fast enough to please. I was reduced to gasps and vowels. I clawed at his chest and he drove into me with power and precision, angling himself to rub me where I needed it.

“Come. Come for me. Let me see you f*cking come.” He growled it, and I yelled for him, overtaken with an orgasm without boundaries. A toe-curling, back-scratching, muscle-tightening climax.

And then he came, and my God I hoped I’d remember it the rest of my life. I touched his face to remember it, how he was even more beautiful when he lost himself.

I did this.





CHAPTER 46


BRAD


Lying in bed next to Cara, I felt a wave of guilt. I could forget about the texts I’d gotten on the way to the hotel for only so long. But once we were done, the texts poked me like a sharpened dowel.

—I suggest you come back to LA right now and do some damage control—

Ken had texted while we were talking about puke smells in the limo. Supposedly there was a picture from the teacups, and I was waiting for it.

In the meantime, Cara’s body was directly responsible for the smile on my face.

I hadn’t had skin on skin in a long time. She was wet and tight and supple everywhere. She came like a f*cking storm. If I hadn’t had something on my mind, I would have exploded on the third thrust, and I could have forgotten my stupid reply to Ken.

—What? I got some puke on me? Big deal—

—They’re prepping headlines that have nothing to do with puke. What are you doing with the nanny?—

It was dishonest to f*ck her after I saw the headline, and more dishonest to not take sixty seconds to decipher it.

—Nothing—

“I took it easy on you,” I said, getting off her. I’d told Ken it was nothing, but she wasn’t nothing. I wasn’t sure what she was or what we were together, but it wasn’t nothing.

“Next time you’re going to come so hard you’re going to have to slap yourself out of it.”

Up on her elbows. Knees bent. Tits pointing right at me. Nipples still hard. I wasn’t interrupting that moment with the picture that was about to be published. Not before I handled it and f*cked her at least one more time.

At least. Once more from behind. Her on top. Bent sideways. And that mouth.