Boiling Point (Crossing the Line #3)(34)

“Austin, I’m so close…oh my God…”

“Jesus, I’m close, too. I’m never close. I never even want it.” He bent forward and licked a path from her belly to the soft skin between her tits, giving a few hesitant bucks of his hips, cursing when his balls drew up tight again. Too tight. Fuck. He found her exposed clit, worrying the bud with his thumb. Refusing to neglect the spot he’d found inside her, he used his remaining grip on her ass to work her down onto his dick, a savage smile spreading across his face when she moaned loud enough to be heard in the hallway. “Tell me there will be a next time, Polly.”

Austin heard the vulnerable note in his voice and swallowed hard. This was about addicting Polly, giving her everything she needed. Not opening himself up for a knife in the side if she denied him. No. No. There would be no denying today.

“I—”

“Yes.” His pronouncement interrupted her, the pace of his touch on her clit turning punishing. “You want this. You want it every f*cking day. Don’t you?” His upward thrusts moved like an accelerating machine. “I want to be commanded by you. I want to be your f*ck. As soon as I empty myself, I’m going to fill right back up and wait for another chance at your *. Tell me you want that. Tell me you want me on goddamn speed dial to be your f*ck, Polly. Say it.”

Her answering orgasm was so violent in its potency, Austin fell forward on a strangled shout of her name, catching his weight on one elbow, still managing to pump his hips. Not for long, though, the sound, feel, knowledge of her pleasure making him a slave to his own. Austin’s seed left him in earth-shaking waves, indescribable bliss blanketing him in a silence that somehow connected him to Polly by virtue of its association with her. Their damp bodies were pressed together so tightly, he could feel her heartbeat knocking in time with his.

“Say there’ll be a next time,” he said, easing off Polly to collapse chest-down on the bed beside her. Not relaxing, however. Not until she answered.

Polly’s chest shuddered up and down. “There—”

Her hand flew to her mouth as she caught sight of something behind him. Denial speared him that a threat could be in her vicinity, but a glance toward the door eviscerated that fear. Nothing there. They were alone. Thank God. “What is it?”

“Your back.” She reached out a hand, then drew it back. “I didn’t know I was doing that. I…God, I made you bleed.”

“Polly.” He shook his head, wishing she’d laid that hand on him. Wanting to be touched after sex. Who knew? “It’s fine. It means you enjoyed me.”

Nothing about his statement appeared to comfort her. She sat up without bothering to shield her nude body, and Austin’s anatomy stirred, forcing him to adjust the weight pressing down on his length. Polly must have misinterpreted his wince, believing it had to do with her nail marks, because she made a small noise, her gaze running down his back, his ass. “Does it hurt where I used the belt?”

If he said no, would the moment be over? Having this tenuous bond broken so soon made him anxious. The cool, dark air of the hotel room enfolded them, somehow making them as close as they’d been with their bodies joined. Normal people held each other after sex, but they weren’t normal people. They weren’t afterglow people. Still, old habits died hard, and Austin’s gut told him how to achieve what he wanted. And what he wanted was Polly touching him, in any way.

“It doesn’t not hurt,” he murmured. “I suppose.”

A handful of silent seconds slipped by while Austin held his breath. As if in a trance, she ran gentle fingers over his backside, tracing lines he imagined the belt had left behind. His eyelids fell like stones when she began to knead the sore flesh…caring for him. Austin was so overcome with the unfamiliar sensation of contentment, he didn’t realize she’d moved closer until he felt her applying pressure to the wounds on his back with soft fabric. Pressing, pulling away, pressing. When her lips replaced the fabric, Austin’s eyes flew back open, the organ in his chest attempting to smash free of his rib cage. He didn’t dare move as she kissed each and every scar on his back, still massaging him beneath the small of his back. Her breath drifted over the trail her kisses left behind, making his stomach muscles seize. God, he wanted to rock his hips, wanted to drag his cock up and down on the bed, but what if she stopped? He’d die if she stopped because of something he did.

“How can I hate these marks so much when I left the same ones?” Polly’s soft voice cut through the darkness, a single finger trailing down the center of his ass, forcing Austin to stifle a groan. “And how can I see these red lines and want to put them there again tomorrow?”

Someone up there loves me. Austin lifted his upper half off the bed, twisting to face her. The uncertainty arranging her features made him want to reach out, cup the back of her neck. Something he pictured a lover doing. He opened his mouth to reassure her, then realized for once he had no answers. “I asked you for it, Polly. We both needed something and took it. That’s a sentiment we both recognize, isn’t it?” He waited for her slow nod. “In this room, let’s forget what happens outside and do only what we understand.”

Holy motherf*ck, he was really putting himself out there, wasn’t he? Not something he typically did unless the outcome was a sure thing. Polly was the opposite of a sure thing. A gamble. One he really wanted to win, although he hadn’t a goddamn clue what he’d do with his prize. One day at a time. Or night, as it were. Perhaps if he wanted her to agree to see him again, he should behave in the manner that befitted a…suitor.