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Every time Tori shifted in Archer’s lap, his cock grew harder. Want rapidly replaced the adrenaline of the afternoon, making the throb between her legs ache for more.
Reason started to sink in, trying to tell her she shouldn’t do this again. That this wasn’t the way no strings worked. She ignored every protest. His sturdy legs under hers, his hard length pressing into her mound, and his hands sliding over her hips were enough to erase everything else.
He nudged her back, prompting her to stand, then pointed her toward the hallway. His hands never completely left her, and his chest pressed into her back when he rose. His lips brushed her ear. “We have time. Bedroom?”
She nodded and let herself be directed down the hall. She’d only been in Archer’s room a few times, and the decor always caught her off guard. In contrast to the modern stainless steel and hardwood of the rest of his house, or the garish displays downstairs, this room was simple. Beige walls, dark sheets and furniture, and almost no other decoration.
Unlike everywhere else, it looked like no one wanted to be there. And she knew he really only used the place to sleep. The almost somber feeling tugged at something sad inside. His lips running up the back of her neck chased away the crawling gloom.
She leaned back into him with a tiny sigh, as he glided his palms under her shirt and up her stomach.
She tilted her head to one side, to give him easier access, as he kissed along her shoulder. He traced his tongue along the curve where her neck met her back, and she gasped. She didn’t know what to ask for first. Every inch of her was alive and begging for more attention.
He didn’t wait for her to decide. He fumbled with her bra for a moment, before unsnapping it and pulling it and her shirt over her head. The contact between them broke for a second, and when his bare chest met her shoulder blades, she knew he was losing clothes as fast as she was.
He glided his hands to her breasts. When he grazed her rock-hard nipples, she whimpered and rested the back of her head against his chest. “Harder.”
He obliged on two fronts, sucking on the sensitive skin of her neck, teeth scraping her shoulder, and at the same time, rolling her nipples between his fingers, pinching, and tugging. Pricks of pain rolled through her at the pressure, pooling between her legs.
She squeezed her legs together, grinding her butt against him as he tweaked, pulled, and sucked. Could she come like this?
Disappointment flooded her when all the attention stopped abruptly.
“I know I’ve been asking you to drive things.” His hot breath chased across her skin, and he hooked his thumbs in the waistband of her jeans. “But I’m going to make a request.”
Her pulse screamed in her ears, and her sex pleaded for attention. “Okay.”
“I want to watch you play with yourself. I want to see you make yourself come”—he pressed his hard shaft into her ass—“and I want to stroke off while I watch.”
She thought it was impossible to be more turned on, but the request dialed up her arousal another notch. “All right.”
He pushed the rest of her clothing to the floor, and his knee met the back of hers, nudging her forward.
She stepped out of the discarded pants and turned to face him. He raked his gaze over her as he finished stripping. His cock sprung loose, standing at attention. Damn. That was hot.
She drew her hands down her sides, gasping as her body begged for more contact. She didn’t remember a time her skin had been so sensitive. Her pussy ached when he took his dick in his hand and dropped into a nearby chair.
She backed up to the bed and took a seat. What was she supposed to do now? She closed her eyes, threw her head back, and wandered her hands.
She moved one to her breast, following Archer’s path from earlier. His groan filled the room, mingling with hers when she found the hardened nub and squeezed.
She grabbed two of his pillows and positioned them behind her. She lay back, shoulder blades cradled, and propped one foot on the edge of the mattress, dangling the other over the side.
She roamed her free hand down her stomach, spurred on by his, “God, Tori.”
She brushed her outer lips with her fingers, sliding easily over the already slick surface. She dipped inside her folds, trying to stretch out the moment. Stroking everywhere but her aching clit. His grunts made her wetter.
“Do you like that?” The words slipped past her lips without thought, and she realized she liked the sound of them.
“Fuck, yes.”
“Do you want me to come for you?”
“Yes, baby. Finger your pussy. Come for me. Hard.”
She moved her fingers higher, moaning when she found her throbbing sex. “I’m so wet.” She stroked the hard nub, panting disrupting her voice.
She didn’t expect to peak so quickly, but the sensations, combined with the dirty talk, had her climax building inside. “I’m so close.”
“Stroke yourself faster.” An edge lined his voice. “I want you to make yourself scream.”
There was no choice there. She rubbed her clit, still pinching her nipple with her other hand, and an orgasm tore through her. A cry wrenched from her throat, growing louder with shock and pleasure when he gripped her hips and shoved his cock inside her at the height of the moment.
Her yell melded into a series of whimpers, as he stretched her. Her inner walls clenched around his shaft every time he slammed deep inside her.
She wrapped her legs around him, resting her feet on his ass cheeks, and held him close, rocking against him with every hard, pounding thrust.
His groans filled the room, and his rhythm shifted to staccato bursts. “I’m coming.”
She pulled him closer with her legs, the edges of her orgasm finally sliding off. He let out one final roar, and the frantic pace stopped.
He rested his hands on either side of her head, kissing her deeply, tongue and lips hungry. She pressed back, still needing to be as close to him as possible. He finally collapsed on the mattress next to her.
They lay there for a moment, struggling to catch their breath.
His quiet, “Fuck,” made her frown.
“What?” she asked, not liking the nervousness creeping inside.
“Forgot the condom.”
She should be bothered—scared or something—by the news. She sought out his hand next to hers on the comforter and intertwined her fingers with his. “I’m clean. I’m on birth control. You’re clean, too?”
“Absolutely.”
“No worries, then.”
*
ARCHER ROLLED ONTO his side and gathered Tori to his chest. He draped an arm over her hip and rested his forehead against the back of her head. Her steady heartbeat was soothing and helped bring his pulse back to a regular rate. “Do you have to get home?” he asked.
“I think my place will survive without me for a while.” She snuggled tighter against him, and it tugged at something deep inside.
He shouldn’t be grateful. He shouldn’t even care. It had never bothered him when Riley had to take off. Then again, Riley usually moved in within the first few weeks of them dating.
Not that he and Tori were dating. This was a novelty. A woman, wrapped in his arms, who didn’t expect to move in at the end of the week. This was the only reason holding Tori close and safe was comforting. Because there was no way in hell he was falling for her.
He needed to back off before it was too late. Before history repeated itself, she moved on, and he was left wondering why he’d gotten involved. A nagging in the back of his head insisted losing Tori would hurt more than anything he’d dealt with in the past.
Tomorrow. He’d work on backing off tomorrow.
* * * *
WASN’T HER PILLOW SOFTER? Tori struggled with the thought, as her consciousness was dragged to the front of her mind. She inhaled deeply. She knew that scent. Archer. Did she pass out in his guest bedroom again? Her pillow shifted, and a soft moan rumbled through her ear. It’s not a pillow. It’s Archer. The pleasant thought warmed her.
Her eyes shot open, and she sat straight up as the night before came rushing back. The tenderness, the soft kisses, and the falling asleep, not ever wanting to leave.
“You okay?” Archer peeled one eye open.
She pulled the sheets up in front of her. Not like being modest mattered; he’d already seen everything. The thought heated her skin and hardened her nipples. She forced neutrality onto her face. “I’m good.”
Except she wasn’t. Half of her wanted to curl up next to him again and fall back asleep, and the other half screamed full volume that she needed to walk away. Now. That she wasn’t going to make the same mistake as she had with her last boyfriend, and that she wasn’t—despite what the rest of her thought—falling hard for Archer.
He reached up, brushing her cheek with one finger when he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and then dropped his hand abruptly. A shadow crossed his face as he sat, and he scooted farther from her. “Good.” A faint strain ran through his voice. “Breakfast?”
No. She needed to get home. To suppress... whatever this was.
Reason softened her panic. A month ago, she would have stayed for breakfast. This wasn’t supposed to mean anything. She was projecting, because she thought sex had to mean love. That was all it was. The reassurance didn’t completely convince her, but it was enough to keep her from bolting. “Breakfast sounds great.”
Besides, he did make wicked-good pancakes.
She couldn’t help but stare when he climbed out of bed—let her gaze trace every line of definition down his back, over his ass and thighs—before he pulled on jeans and a T-shirt. She looked away when he faced her, but not before he caught her eye.
“I’ll see you in the kitchen?” His voice held a tone she couldn’t identify. Exhaustion? Hurt?
She didn’t want to know. She nodded, not sure he was looking at her. “Sure. I’ll be there in a minute.”
She watched his legs and feet shuffle past her, and his footsteps paused. She held her breath, unsure what she was waiting for. A disappointment she couldn’t name washed over her when the patter of feet resumed again. Seconds later the door latched shut.
This was so bad. What the hell was she doing? She needed to obliterate this stupid crush, before things fell apart.