Tease (Cloverleigh Farms #8)(59)

“Hutton,” I pleaded. “I want to feel you inside me.”

“I want that too, princess.” He pushed his fingers deeper inside me. “I want my cock right here. I want to make you come again. But this is a game about patience. About control. We can’t just give in to every urge we feel.”

“Romeo,” I panted. “Now can we give in?”

He laughed. “It doesn’t work like that. It’s a safe word, not a password.”

“But I want you so badly.” My body was burning up for him. I felt like heat and desire were emanating from my skin. “I’ve never wanted anyone this way. I have no control.”

“You don’t have to have control.” He took his fingers from me, kissed the back of each leg, and rose to his feet. “You have to surrender it. That’s what I like.”

I moaned, squirming on the dining room table as he took another sip of his whiskey. “Surrender is harder than I thought.”

“I know it is.” He set the glass down. “But you’re doing so well, princess. You’re such a good girl, and I’m going to give you what you want.”

“You are?” I grew excited as I heard the zipper of his dress pants being lowered. I couldn’t see, but I imagined him pulling out his cock, stroking it with his fist like he had in the bathtub.

“Yes,” he said. “But you have to tell me what that is.”

“I want you to fuck me,” I said without hesitation.

He laughed again. “What happened to my sweet princess? Where are her manners?”

“I want you to fuck me, please?” I tried.

“That’s better.” He rubbed the tip of his cock between my thighs, damp with whiskey and desire. Both of us moaned as he pushed inside me, every hot, thick inch stretching and filling me until his hips met my ass. Placing his hands on my hips, he pulled back and did it again, and again, and again. “Fuck,” he growled. “It’s so tight. So hot. And you look so fucking good.”

It was tight—having my ankles bound together with his belt kept my legs pressed firmly together. And the way I was bent forward over the table meant he could go in deep. As he moved faster, he moved rougher, and I began to exhale sharply every time he hit the furthest spot.

Suddenly he yanked me back from the table, but only enough to reach one hand around and rub my clit with his fingertips, keeping his cock buried deep just like I wanted. “Come for me,” he demanded. “Come right now, on my cock. On my fingers. Let me feel it. Then I’ll come for you.”

“Yes!” I cried out as the waves crashed through me, relentless and powerful, loud and unceasing, my body completely at the mercy of his touch and his rhythm and his words and his massive, throbbing cock that I wanted to feel pulsing inside me.

But instead, he pulled out. I was so shocked I picked up my head from the table and looked at our reflection in the window. That’s how I was able to watch as he grabbed his cock and got himself off as he stood over me, coming all over my back in hot, silken streams, grunting with every savage thrust through his fist.

My mouth fell open and stayed that way, even after I placed my cheek back on the table. “Oh my God,” I whispered. “That was—oh my God.”

Breathing hard, Hutton propped his hands on the table beside my waist. “I didn’t have a condom. That’s why I did it that way. Although truth be told, that’s what I wanted to do to you.”

“I liked it.”

He leaned down and kissed my temple. “I’ll clean you up. Give me a second to grab a towel.”

“Okay, but Hutton?”

“Yes?”

“Can you take my shoes off? My feet are killing me.”

Without a word, he dropped down, unstrapped his belt from my ankles, and removed each shoe.

“Thank you.” I breathed a sigh of relief to be standing in bare feet on the carpet.

He pulled my underwear up, then undid the knot in his tie and pulled it free from my wrists. “There. But don’t move too much. You’re a little messy.”

I braced myself on my elbows and smiled at him over one shoulder. “It’s okay.”

He went into the master bedroom and returned a minute later with a warm washcloth, which he used to gently wipe off my back. “You might still be a little sticky. And I also got some, uh, stuff in your hair. Want to take a shower or something?”

“Maybe.” I straightened up, my muscles already sore and stiff. I rubbed one shoulder. “Actually yes, that might feel good.”

“Let me run it for you.”

I smiled. “You don’t have to do that. You didn’t break me.”

“It’s not an apology.” He kissed my forehead. “I just like doing things for you.”





Not only did he run the shower for me, he undressed and got in with me, then insisted on washing my hair, applying the conditioner and waiting exactly two minutes before rinsing it off, and soaping me up with the hotel body wash.

He rubbed his hands together to make suds and sniffed them. “It’s nice, but it’s not as good as yours.”

“I brought some lotion in the scent you like,” I told him. “I’ll put it on before bed.”

After we got out, he dried me off with a giant fluffy towel and brought me one of the plush white robes. I combed out my hair while he put on some pajama pants, then he came into the bathroom and wrapped his arms around me from behind. His hair was wet and wavy, messy in the front like it usually was. As gorgeous and sexy as he was all put together in a suit and tie, there was something so familiar and cozy about this Hutton. He made my heart pound just as hard.