Page 54 of Loved Out Loud
“Wait.” He does the math in his head. “If they’re so close in age to you that would mean your dad had a years-long affair.”
I smile bitterly. “Bingo. He traveled back and forth between New York and Chicago for work my entire life.”
“Fuck.” Stone reaches across the table and covers my hand with his. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” I wave my hand dismissively. “I don’t miss him. I don’t even know if my brother and sister know about me.”
“We’ll be in Chicago for four days, have you thought about reaching out?”
“Yes. Part of me wants to show up on their front porch just to be petty. So my dad can see what I’ve made of myself.”
“I sense a but coming.”
That earns him a smile. “I don’t know if it would be worth it. There’s a very real possibility he knows about my success and doesn’t care. I can’t think of anything that would hurt more than his indifference.”
He nods understandingly. “I’m sorry.”
I shrug and push a pile of whipped cream around on my plate. “Not your fault.”
“I know.” He leans to the side and pulls out his wallet. After dropping several one hundred dollar bills on the table and then Adam and Dan’s, he offers me his hand. “I don’t have anything else planned tonight, but I’m not ready for it to end. When we get back to the hotel, will you join me in my room?”
As soon as I say yes, the tension between us thickens. At every point where he could touch me, he does. On the ride back he sets his palm on my thigh, his callouses rough against my soft, bare skin. Heat pools between my thighs as his fingertips beginto move in slow circles, barely brushing under the hem of my shorts.
“What are you thinking?” I ask, surprising myself.
He gives me a wicked smile and then leans over to whisper his response. “About how I can’t wait to have these wrapped around my head while I make you scream for me.”
Heat blooms across my cheeks, and I fight the urge to fan myself. We don’t speak for the rest of the ride back to the hotel, but desire pulses hot through my veins with every step closer we take to his suite.
I’m about to fuck a rock star. As the elevator takes us up to the penthouse level, I search my psyche for any sign of sanity. There’s not a morsel to be found. I’m more than ready to throw myself into his bed.
As soon as the door to his suite closes behind us, he’s on me. He presses my back to the wall as his lips cover mine. My toes curl as his fingers thread through my hair, pulling me back so he has deeper access to my mouth.
“I’ve been thinking about these lips all fucking day,” he says against my mouth. “How soft and perfect they are against mine. Everything about you is so soft and warm and perfect.”
My fingers grab the hem of his shirt and lift it, so I can run my fingers over the lean muscle hidden away. Sensing what I want, he reaches behind his neck and breaks our kiss just long enough to rip the fabric over his head before discarding it beside us.
I gasp when he wraps his hands around the backs of my thighs and lifts me off the floor. “Your back,” I protest against his lips.
“I’m fine.” He carries me to his room, kicking the door shut with his foot.
I slide down his body until my feet hit the floor. The urge to drop all the way to my knees and wrap my mouth around his cock is so strong, I’m not sure how I manage to stay upright.
My fingers do, however, find their way to the waistband of his jeans, unbuttoning and then unzipping them, so I can slide my hand inside and rub my palm over his erection. He hisses when I make contact with his hot, velvety length. Wrapping my fist around him, I give him a few slow pumps.
“Fuck, baby.” His forehead falls to mine. “That feels so damn good.”
I squeeze the tip, loving the way he jumps and twitches in my palm. Slickness covers my hand as pre-cum beads on his tip. Never in my life have I wanted the taste of someone’s arousal on my tongue as much as I want his. I start to sink to my knees, but he stops me.
“Oh, no. Tonight isn’t about me. It’s about you. Can I take these off?” He hooks his fingers in my waistband.
“Yes,” I answer in a breathy whisper.
He makes quick work of the shorts, letting them drop to my feet, so I can step out of them. “What about this?” He fingers the hem of my shirt. “When I fuck you, I want all of you. No barriers. I need every single inch open to my worship.”
I freeze at the thought of him seeing me without a shirt. He’ll see my other scars. Or if he can’t see them, he’ll feel them. For a brief moment I’m ready to say no. But then my eyes meet his, and I see something I’ve never seen from anyone. Acceptance and understanding, along with a very deep, very obvious, desire.
He wants this.
