Misadventures with My Ex Read online

  I brush her smooth cheek with my stubbled one. “I’ve missed you.”

  “You don’t have to say anything romantic. The lies are a waste of your breath.”

  “Lies always are.” Stifling my irritation, I press my lips to her ear. “I mean every word of this. I’ve missed you, honey. More than you know.”

  Beneath me, she spreads her thighs wider, bends her knees, and cradles my hips. Suddenly, I’m prodding her slick opening, and she lifts, inviting me in. “Shh. Condoms are in the purple makeup case on the dresser.”

  “Thank you. I’ll remember that when I need one…eventually.”

  Her huff of frustration is adorable. “What do you want, West?”

  “For you to hush and let me make you feel good.”

  Being silent goes against Eryn’s grain. But thankfully, she stops arguing. I reward her with a string of kisses down her cheek, a brush of my tongue over her bottom lip. As I enjoy the flavor of her skin, she fits perfectly against me. It’s all I can do not to melt into her.

  While I lave her neck, she shivers, gasping as I scrape my teeth over that stubborn pointed chin, then work my way back to her mouth. Next, I lay my lips over hers softly, reverently, little more than a brush. I pull back, hover, make her wait.

  At first she doesn’t take the bait, so I repeat the cycle a few times until finally she sighs against me and rears up, trying to fuse our mouths together. I don’t capitulate right away, merely sweep my lips across hers once more.

  “West…” she pleads when I ease back.

  There. Now she’s with me, starting to want more than just sex.

  I prop myself on my elbows and peer down into her face. “Want to hear something else that’s not a lie? I’ve missed you more than I ever thought possible.”

  She opens her mouth to protest, but I swoop in and take control of our kiss, heaping sensations on her. My tongue glides along hers as I gather a fistful of her soft curls in my hands. She jolts and opens wider, urging me deeper, silently telling me that she’s done playing games…for now.

  Later, I’ll deal with whatever she schemes up. For the moment, I kiss her until her breathing turns heavy, until our pants mingle and she’s clinging to me as if she’s waited forever for this. Then I skim my lips down her jaw and work my way toward her breasts.

  I haven’t forgotten my way around Eryn’s body. She loves me at her nipples. Sure, she enjoys it when I’m tender with them. But she goes insane with lust when I get rough. The merciless stimulation never failed to make her want and beg in the past. I’m hoping like hell nothing has changed.

  Cradling her breasts in my hands, I bend to brush a gossamer kiss across them, one after the other, dragging my lips up the swells, grazing the tips, then sliding into the soft, scented valley between. In my head, I know Eryn is put together like most other women—two eyes, two lips, two breasts, two hips, two legs. But somehow, with her, everything feels different.

  Guess that’s being in love.

  Eryn reaches between us and pinches her nipples. I grab her wrists and tug her hands away.

  “Those are mine to play with,” I remind.

  “You don’t seem all that interested.”

  “I’m getting there. Were you trying to make them harder to entice me or stimulate yourself for the hell of it?”

  “Either works.”

  I would think she’s being flippant except I hear the breathy whine of need in her voice. My slow seduction is getting to her.

  “I’ll take it from here,” I assure her.

  She blinks up at me, her face full of challenge. “What if I’m not convinced?”

  Resist? Or fall into her trap? No contest. Giving her what she wants right now makes us both feel damn good.

  “Let’s see what I can do,” I murmur as I dip my head to stroke one hard bud with my tongue.

  Her body jerks. Her breath catches. Between my lips, the sweet buds harden even more.

  I pull on one, deep and long, pursing my mouth around the tip, gratified when she twists with a needy groan under me.

  “More.”

  “Tell me.”

  “You don’t remember? Of course you don’t.” She gives me an irritated push.

  I smile through her short, hot breaths and hold her in place. I know exactly what she wants. Still, I make her wait, drawing out her anticipation. “Is that what you think?”

  “I don’t care. Just…do whatever you’re going to do.”

  “Look at me.” I refuse to move a muscle until she complies. “When it comes to you, I’ve forgotten nothing.”

  Eryn is still forming a flippant comeback when I sink my teeth into her tender tips. Gently, at first. A mere hint of a nip. A little scrape. Then, just when she thinks I’m going to pull back, I apply more pressure.

  She hisses in pleasure and tries to lift her hands from the bed, presumably to direct my movements. I keep her pinned below me, my fingers firm vises around her wrists, holding her in place.

  “I remember. And you don’t want to go anywhere.” I dare her to refute me.

  “I never said I did, but—”

  “And you’ll get plenty of opportunity to touch me soon.”

  “But—”

  “Stop arguing. You aren’t going to change the way I make love to you or the speed at which I do it.”

  Her mouth takes on a mutinous pout. “We’re just fucking.”

  “Keep telling yourself that.”

  Her eyes widen. “If you brought me out here for some romantic reunion—”

  “You’re my mistress. You signed an agreement to that effect. I expect you to live up to your end of the bargain.”

  “I will when you do,” she counters, lifting her hips under me, gliding the head of my cock through her slick folds. “All you have to do is slide inside me.”

  “Did you forget the part where you serve at my pleasure? That’s whatever I want, Eryn.” I grab her chin. “Stop trying to control this.”

  She’s doing her best not to feel anything for me—and I’m determined she will. I’m also done talking, so I slant my mouth over hers and delve so deep, she has no choice but to quiet down and take me. I stay. I stroke. I seduce. Little by little, the tension begins to melt from Eryn’s body. Her breaths soften, just like her lips. Under me, she arches again, invites me closer, inching toward surrender.

  But if I don’t heap bliss on Eryn quickly, her head will kick in and the pushback will start once more. Yes, she’s afraid. I take that as a good sign. If she felt nothing for me, she’d be happy to go through the motions. The woman beneath me is fighting her response because I get to her. Because she’s not sure she can stop herself from wanting—or falling for—me in return.

  This time, I don’t make the fatal mistake of talking as I kiss my way down to her breasts. Instead, I wrap my mouth around her tempting mounds and suck the tips ruthlessly, back and forth, giving her pleasure an edge with a gentle bite of my teeth. It’s too soon to start celebrating when she sucks in a sharp inhalation and fidgets restlessly. I’m on my way to making her putty in my hands, but I still have plenty of her defenses to tear down. So I shift breasts again, inhaling one against the roof of my mouth as I give the other a savage pinch.

  This time, she jolts. Her breath stutters. A whimper escapes her.

  I remember exactly what she likes—and I’m happy to prove it.

  Back and forth, I swap the tips in my mouth, relishing the way they harden and swell. I could do this all day—and at some point, I will—but it’s been so long since I’ve been inside her. I’m desperate to start claiming her again.

  When I lift my head to survey her reaction, I see her nipples are no longer a rosy-brown but a sweetly flushed red. I have no idea how much time has passed, but Eryn doesn’t have any more sass at the moment, just ragged breaths as she digs her fingers into my arms in a silent plea.

  I brush my thumbs over the distended tips. “More?”

  When she lifts her lids to look at me, she’s glassy-ey
ed, aroused. “They’re sore and tight.”

  “That’s not what I asked. Do you want more, honey?”

  With her defenses weakening, I see her weighing whether she should risk asking for something she knows will arouse her or taking the safe road and insisting I simply put out her fire. “I want you inside me.”

  She does…but she’s still thinking more than she should.

  “Yeah?” I pinch the tender nubs again, then give them a brisk tug.

  Eryn shudders and moans, reaching for me again.

  I pin her wrists to the mattress once more and dip my head to breathe across her nipples. “I think you want more of my mouth on you. I think you need it.”

  The moment I lave one, she tenses as if she’s bracing against the sensation. I won’t have that, so I suction the swollen flesh into my mouth with a hearty pull before slowly releasing her breast, nipping my way down the protruding tip. She jerks and keens, digging her nails into my hands. Because she can’t take any more? Or because she’s dying for me to continue?

  Easing back, I study her rosy face, her short breaths, her unfocused gaze.

  Seconds become a minute as I catalog every facet of her reaction. In this moment, she isn’t pushing me away or demanding that I let her go. Nope. She’s arching up to me in silent plea.

  “I need it,” she finally whispers. “I’ve needed it for so long.”

  “Why?” I demand, kissing my way around her sensitive nipples, coming close…but not quite touching them.

  “No one knows my body like you.”

  Triumph spikes my bloodstream. “No one ever will, Eryn. Think about that while I make you feel good.”

  I dip to heap more sensations on her aching twin tips. A lick, a nip, a moment of deep suction followed by a teasing touch. I watch her every reaction as I work both of her breasts, loving every twist and hiss and scratch she gives me in return.

  “Please,” Eryn pants. “Please… I’m dying.”

  Finally, she’s reached that delicate peak where stimulation is about to become pain. Right here is where arousal overwhelms her. Now she’ll give me anything and everything I want—especially herself.

  With a smile, I bolt up from the mattress and find the condoms in her bag, tearing the box open and taking one plastic-wrapped prophylactic off the chain. I sidle up to her and ease the condom onto her belly, then glide my fingers through her oh-so-swollen pussy with a groan. “Oh, honey…”

  “West!” She writhes and roots, urging me to fill the chasm of her ache.

  I settle my fingers over her clit and lick my way up the side of her breast. “Soon.”

  “Now!”

  Not quite. I know how far I can push her. I know where instinct takes over and need drowns out her insecurities. “A little longer. I have to touch you.”

  When I start rubbing her most nerve-laden spot, she shrieks and thrashes, throwing her hips up at me. “Enough!”

  I hold her down. “It’s enough when I say it’s enough.”

  Her whimper sounds like a protest, but I know Eryn loves it when I drive her past coherence.

  I rub her again, this time in slow, torturous circles that I know damn well are only honing her ache into an agony that’s bringing her close to her euphoric breaking point.

  Eryn digs her heels into the mattress. Beneath my fingers, I feel her clit swell and harden. She holds her breath, begins to twitch.

  “West!” Her shrill, almost incoherent voice tells me she’s going to melt down if I don’t let her come.

  Now she’s exactly where I want her.

  I lift my fingers from her flesh, grab the condom, annoyed that my own hands are shaking, then tear the package open. Thank god the little ring of rubber rolls quickly down my cock.

  My gorgeous ex is still crying out in protest as I shove her to the middle of the bed, vault between her outstretched thighs, then surge inside her deep, filling her in one breath-stealing stroke.

  As her swollen flesh closes around me, a groan rips from my chest. I haven’t been a monk since Eryn, but no one—no matter how much I wished otherwise—feels half as good as this woman.

  “Oh, that’s so fucking good,” I rasp in her ear.

  Beneath me, she tosses her head back and keens. Seeing her—wrists restrained by my grip, hips held immobile by my own—is a sight I’ve dreamed of a million times in the last three years. The fact it’s real only jacks my desire up another thousandfold.

  “Hurry…” she demands.

  I shake my head. “You’re not controlling this.”

  “Why are you?”

  “Because I know what I need. I know what you need, too.”

  To prove my point, I roll to my back, taking her with me until she’s straddling my hips and gravity drives my cock deeper. Eryn gasps at this new ripple of pleasure, but I don’t give her a moment to acclimate. Immediately, I pull her against my chest, take her lips, and rise up beneath her in driving strokes, hitting that one perfect spot over and over…

  She wrenches free. “West!”

  Eryn’s brain might tell her to resist surrendering, but her body won’t allow it. Above me, she writhes as she slams down onto my waiting erection, meeting me thrust for thrust as she claws the sheets and howls through a shattering climax.

  It’s the most fucking perfect moment.

  “That’s it. Come for me. Yeah… Oh, honey. Fuck, you’re pretty. More…”

  With a tight grip on her hips, I guide her through the pinnacle of her orgasm, then help her glide back down until she’s a panting heap on my chest.

  I try to focus on stroking her back until she falls to earth again, but she feels so perfect pressed against me, all around me. As if my hands have a will of their own, my palms skate down her spine until each has a handful of her ass. Then I’m lifting into her again, each thrust quicker and more insistent than the last.

  Half a dozen in, she tenses above me.

  “West?” Her voice shakes.

  In that one word, I hear her silent question: how is it possible her body is already reawakening and aching for me again?

  I can’t reply to the question that has no logical answer. It simply is.

  “I’m here.” I murmur the words against her neck, dragging my lips up her jaw.

  Mentally, I whoop out a glory fucking hallelujah when she turns her head and presses her mouth over mine. Then our lips meld, our breaths merge, our tongues tangle. God, I don’t know how much longer I can stave off this need to release inside her. But I need to try long enough to send her tailspinning into rapture once more.

  I throw her onto her back, grip her hips. One after the other, I hammer out deep, relentless strokes. Under me, Eryn grips me with her thighs, rocks with me, and digs her nails into my back.

  “It’s building so fast…” she mutters.

  “Yeah.” As I shove my way deeper, I grip her hair in my fist and give it a little tug until our stares collide. “There’s no one like you, Eryn.”

  She closes her eyes between us. I’m half expecting pushback or an argument. Instead, a fresh flush crawls up her body. She begins to tighten up. Her breathing stutters. Her nails leave ten points of fire in my back that only drives my desire hotter.

  When she clamps down on me and wails, her entire body seizing with pleasure, I fucking lose it. The brewing tingles gather and thicken. The pressure crescendos into a towering desire that threatens to flatten me. Oh, it will be the most amazing orgasm ever—I can already tell—but it’s going to exhaust my body, fuck with my head, and totally wreck my heart.

  I can’t make myself care about any of that.

  “Eryn!” Her name is the only word I can get past my lips as I pump her harder, deeper, and the blinding euphoria explodes me into a million tiny irreparable pieces.

  Frantically, I pummel my way from rise to peak, then ride her through the most deliciously slow, toe-curling descent to a shuddering, replete stop.

  When it’s over, I collapse on top of Eryn. The only part of me that
’s moving now is my chest, which is rapidly rising and falling with the frantic beat of my heart and the filling of my overtaxed lungs.

  What. The. Fuck. Just. Happened?

  Almost instantly, Eryn shoves at me frantically, whimpering and jerking like a wild thing. Frowning, I force my sated body to withdraw from her snug clasp and roll aside.

  “What’s wrong?” Maybe I’m too heavy and she can’t breathe.

  The second she’s free, she lurches off the bed and darts toward the hers bathroom on the far side of the master suite—the one place I’ve vowed not to violate her privacy.

  I’m barely on my feet by the time she’s gripping the door. Tears stream down her face. Her dark eyes accuse me. “Don’t ever do that again!”

  Make her feel. That’s what she means. And my heart sinks as she slams the door between us, then locks it. Fuck. Nothing else could say more emphatically that she’s throwing walls up between us again.

  Her sobs on the other side tear at my heart. I remember the last time I heard her cry—the morning we didn’t get married. I know she’s hurting, and I feel helpless to stop it. But I’ll fucking try because three years ago, I let the situation dictate my behavior and, therefore, the outcome. This time, I give zero fucks about playing by the rules. I’m going to make that woman mine.

  Chapter Six

  Eryn

  I lean against the door, palm pressing against my chest, as if I can somehow keep my heart from escaping its chamber and attaching itself again to Weston Quaid.

  Tears fall. He’s seen them. I hate that. I also hate that, where he’s concerned, I’m weak.

  For nearly three years, I’ve been utterly single. Since then, I congratulated myself every time I hooked up with a guy and felt nothing. I was over West, and I was so beyond that blooming-love shit. Never again would I be vulnerable to another man. I was untouchable, invincible. Unconquerable.

  A few hours with West has proven me devastatingly wrong.

  Sure, I knew my body responded to him. He’s hot. He’s always been good in bed. I expected orgasm-central.

  I didn’t expect him to affect more than my vagina.