On the Rox Page 6

  I crawled on top of him and pressed my mouth to his, straddling his lap and feeling his hardness between my thighs. His lips parted as I slipped my tongue in between them, teasing him. He tasted like something wild, something from the outback mixed with my favorite local beer. He grabbed my hips, rocking me back and forth over his cock.

  “Let’s take this inside,” he muttered into my mouth.

  I opened the car door and tumbled out, somersaulting like a ninja to save myself.

  “I’m going to pretend that was a graceful ballerina move you just pulled to impress me.” He quickly tucked himself back in his pants and pushed himself up and out of the car. “Are you all right?”

  “Who says I’m trying to impress anyone? Maybe I just want to get laid.” I pushed him into the side of my car, pinning myself against him and tipping my chin up for him to kiss me.

  “I think you want more than that, sunshine,” he whispered back to me, stroking my hair from my eyes.

  I pushed myself off of him and took a step back, swallowing hard. “What makes you say that? You don’t even know me,” I scoffed, feeling too vulnerable for comfort.

  “Wishful thinking. Sorry. Sometimes, I say things before I think them through. I feel like I do know you, oddly enough. There’s this connection between us. I’ve never felt this way before. Is that weird? Do you feel that too? I lose my breath at the thought of you. I blow my load at the sight of you! I swear that’s not happened before—ever.”

  “I feel it,” I sighed. “It’s a magnetism, a comfort, security, passion, lust. It’s all those good things. But it’s sex. Just sex. That’s what you’re after, right?”

  “No. Not at all. I want a partner. I mean, don’t get me wrong; I want sex too. But I’d prefer the type of sex on the regular—with someone I can get to know. Someone I like, and I like you, Rox.”

  He shrugged his shoulders and looked up toward the sky. The moonlight shone down on his face, highlighting his tightened jawline. I watched the dip in his jaw as he clenched and unclenched his teeth.

  “Call it fate, call it divine intervention, call it what you will. But here we are, and I think, maybe in another life or something, we knew each other. I don’t know how else to explain it. I know you. It’s not just sex for me, but if that is more comforting for you, then that is what it will be.”

  “What did you say? Divine intervention? You believe in all of that stuff?”

  “I know it,” he said, still staring up into space.

  I sighed and looked up at the stars too. Divine intervention all right. Someone up there was cockblocking me with these feelings shit. But he was right; I felt it. The second he’d stepped from around The Pink Taco Truck and into view, I’d lost my breath. I couldn’t explain it. Maybe it was the damn crystals hanging all over the truck.

  What is this shit? Why do I feel so … close to him? Why does he feel so … close to me? It’s because he doesn’t know me. Once he gets to know me, he will run far, far away, back to Australia.

  “Let’s keep it just sex. You don’t want me.” I shook my head and turned my gaze back to him.

  I couldn’t be what he needed—a partner, as he’d called it. The only type who would be able to handle me and my scars was someone a lot more rugged than this prim-and-proper sex god standing before me.

  “I’m looking at you right now, and I can tell you, as a matter of fact, I do want you. And I have since I spotted you in the window. It’s no coincidence we’ve kept bumping into each other. I think we were meant to date. But why would you think I don’t want you? I’ve not given you that impression, I hope.”

  “I’m trouble. I’ve been through a lot,” I mumbled, scuffing the toe of my shoe across the pavement. “I’m not sure I would even know how to be in a normal relationship. I’m broken. You don’t want this. Trust me.”

  Points to myself for playing it safe. Boundaries!

  I mentally patted myself on the back even though what I wanted to do was punch myself in the face.

  “You’re not broken,” he whispered, stepping in front of me. He reached out to me, putting his finger under my chin and gently lifting my gaze to meet his. “You’re kintsugi.”

  “What did you just call me? Is that some kind of Japanese train wreck? I don’t know who she is.”

  I pulled my brows together and tried to look at him fiercely, but his gaze made me melt. I was putty in his hands—or a puddle. He would need to mop me up because even as a Japanese train wreck, I became soaking wet.

  “She’s you. Kintsugi is the Japanese art form of taking broken pieces and melding them back together again with gold. Your scars, your broken pieces. They’re golden and only make you more beautiful.”

  This man … is not even from this earth.

  I gulped back a silent sob and turned my attention back to the stars above me. My eyes blinked rapidly as they pushed those pesky tears back into their hiding place. For once in my life, I was speechless. This had never happened before. We stood there in silence for a long moment, but it wasn’t awkward. It was peaceful.

  I cleared my throat. “No one has ever said anything like that to me. Where did you even get that from?”

  He cocked his head to the side and grinned. “From my head. It’s what I see when I look at you. I also see the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever laid eyes on. She’s clever, funny, witty, strong, motivated, and a total badass. She’s kintsugi. You’re kintsugi. I don’t care about your brokenness. All I see is gold.”

  I curled my fingers around his belt loops and pulled his hips into mine. I could feel his never-ending cock, thick and restless as a snake moving around in his pants. “Let’s go. Now,” I whispered, peeling myself off of him and tugging him toward my door.

  He followed behind me, his hand gripping mine so hard that our knuckles turned white. We barely made it in the door before he picked me up and threw me over his shoulder, turning his cheek to bite me on my ass—arse—hard.

  I closed my eyes and groaned. “Upstairs, first room on the left,” I huffed, running my hands down the back of his pants and sliding them up and over his firm butt.

  I bounced against him with each quick step he took toward my bedroom. Each bounce I felt vibrated throughout my entire body, sending tingles from my toes to my scalp. My whole body came alive, throbbing, needing, aching for him to take it. All of it. I would be his broken Japanese pottery tonight.

  “Um.” He stood at the bottom of the stairs, pausing briefly.

  I patted his buns. “Giddy up! What are ya waiting on?”

  “There’s no railing. I don’t want to drop you or hurt you.”

  “Oh. You can do it! I bet you wrestle gators over there. Besides, you can’t hurt me. I kinda like a little bit of pain.”

  With one quick movement, he slid me down into the cradle of his arms, my face inches from his.

  “I’ll not hurt you. I feel much better, holding you like this. Now, I get to see that gorgeous face of yours. Not that I didn’t mind the arse.” He grinned, gave me a peck on the lips, and hurled us forward.

  “You know, Jay, I’m impressed. Here you are, carrying me around, and you’re still not out of breath.”

  “Stamina. It’s my thing.” He reached the top of the stairs, still holding me securely in his arms.

  “Oh?”

  “You’ll see.”

  “Oh.” I blushed. I never blushed.

  What is this man doing to me? It’s the accent. Has to be the accent.

  My heart began to beat faster as he took one … two … three … steps to my door and peered inside. I reached out to the side and flicked a light switch on, my eyes not leaving his. I watched the reflection of my prim-and-proper bedroom in his pupils as they adjusted.

  “Wow. It looks like a five-star hotel here. I wouldn’t have guessed—”

  “What would you have guessed?” I smiled sweetly up at him. “Something more dark and moody? A dungeon maybe?”

  “Exactly. Or a witch’s lair.” He lay me down
atop my plush feathered comforter.

  “Ha-ha-ha-ha! Here we go with that lunch-lady-slash-witch theory again.” I cackled, crawling to my nightstand and opening the drawer. “Hair of dog and eye of newt, wrap your dick if you want this coot!” I tossed him a condom.

  His lips smashed together in a thin line, twitching. “Bewitching woman, poisoned brew, I’ll do as you say and not give you the Australian fuck flu.”

  “That was good! See there? You’re a poet and didn’t know it!” I nodded, lifting my dress up and over my head and throwing it to the side. I sat, completely naked and completely comfortable, sinking into my feathered bed as he took me in with his eyes.

  “Oi, oi, oi!” His eyes bulged as he licked his lips.

  I noticed a tiny vein right below the hairline on his left temple pulsating. I wondered if it matched the pulsing of his thick, veined cock.

  “Come on over here, and fark me, mate. I’ll not cast any spells on yar,” I said in a weird mixture of Australian and pirate accent.

  “You already have,” he sighed, crawling on top of me.

  I fumbled with the buttons on his stiff, starched shirt, exposing a set of abs that I had only seen in movies. He rendered me speechless again but only for a moment.

  Blushing and speechless? I think it’s him who is casting a spell.

  “I had no idea you were hiding that under your suit and ties! You should be wearing … nothing. Just walk around with your shirt off. You’d probably be even busier at your restaurant. Actually, you could wear a bow tie. One of those stripper ones. That’s it,” I rambled on as he slipped his pants and boxers off and neatly set them on the edge of the bed.

  He had the V-cut. That ridge of muscle that went from hip bone to heaven. I wanted to trace it with my tongue.

  “Is that what you like?” He sat upon his knees, rolling the rubber onto his dick. “Tell me what you like,” he growled, leaning back over me.

  “You. I like you,” I breathed out before I had any sense to stop myself.

  That was one way to get a man to run. Especially on a first night’s fling. Not that I minded at this point. I kind of wanted to run myself. Sex I could do, but whatever bumbling mess this man made me wasn’t what I’d expected.

  He reached below my navel, running his finger up and down my slit before pushing it inside me. I wrapped my legs around his back and pulled him in closer, bucking my needy hips.

  “Show me,” I whispered. My lips grazed the side of his cheek before I took his earlobe between my teeth and hissed in his ear, “Show me what you like.”

  He grabbed my wrists and pinned them down up over my head while expertly guiding himself into me. So. Fucking. Slow.

  I closed my eyes and concentrated on feeling every single inch of him. His dick didn’t quit. I thought if he kept going, he would see the tip pop out of my mouth and wink at him.

  Just how much of him is in there? Fuck! How long is this thing?

  I squirmed against him, needing him to do me fast and hard, like I was used to being done. I’d never had slow sex before, and it wasn’t that I wasn’t enjoying it. Believe me, I was loving it. Too much. As in … my heart was getting into this shit. This wasn’t just my vag and his cock playing peekaboo. This was my whole body on fire and alive because he was fucking every single inch of my soul.

  I made the mistake of fluttering my eyes open and meeting his gaze. The smile that played over his lips made my breath catch in my throat as I tried to moan out the emotions bubbling up inside of me. The same ones I had kept hidden deep down into the crevices—or cracks … golden cracks—where they belonged.

  He pushed his lips against mine, and I felt him still smiling. I said good-bye to my brain and let my body operate on autopilot, responding to his touch like it had never been touched before. Like I hadn’t just touched it this morning—twice and while watching some wild new clip from the porn king Malcolm Beaumont’s website.

  Waves, quivers, and puppy-dog eyes—puppy-dog eyes?—snuck up on me, betraying my tough-cookie exterior and turning me into a puddle of goo in his gator-wrestling Australian hands. I shut my eyes tight, trying to think of something to stop the emotions surfacing right under my skin.

  Take control. I need to take control.

  I raised my neck up and roughly pressed my lips back into his. The stubble on his chin scratched against my cheeks, causing them to redden. It was that—not him. Not me. I wasn’t blushing again.

  “Yes, please.” He grinned.

  His sparkly, perfect smile widened as I pushed him over and straddled myself on top. Pinning his wrists over his head, I started to grind.

  At first, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me, so I closed them again and kept slamming myself against him. But when I opened them next, I realized I hadn’t been seeing things. Jay’s eyes really were crossed—and not slightly crossed. He had crossed them to the point where I only saw mostly the whites of his eyeballs. I slowed down and freaked the fuck out. His eyes jolted back into their proper place.

  “Something wrong?” he asked as I sat back, still rocking.

  “Nope. Nothing. Not at all. Just wondering if this is okay for you. I don’t want to scare you with hard-core sex instead of all that touchy-feely, slow stuff,” I answered, quickening my pace.

  “You liked the slow stuff.” He smirked.

  “I like all the stuff.”

  I ran my palms up his rock-hard chest, feeling every ripple, every curve, and every heartbeat. I quickly pulled them back as if I’d touched a hot stove.

  No hearts. Just cock and balls, I told myself.

  I clenched my thighs around him tight and bounced harder as his hands grasped my hips and held on for dear life. His eyes grew wider and wider, following the bouncing of my small breasts. I moaned louder, speeding myself up even more. If I rubbed against him any faster, I’d probably set us both on fire. My toes began to tingle, signaling my body that I was on edge and about to tip over.

  “I’m so close. Are you ready?” I moaned between breaths. I hadn’t worked this hard in a long time. Already, I felt spent.

  “I can keep going, but if you’re ready, I’m ready.”

  I nodded, remembering the load he had shot off when I watched him playing with himself through the window. I’d never seen a man blow his load so forcefully and dramatically. I wondered if he was going to burst forth through that condom and shoot me off him like a rocket ship.

  “Say when,” he growled.

  Really? What black magic fuckery is this? Say when? That’s it?

  “When,” I managed to squeak out before my body started to convulse.

  My thighs shook as I clenched down hard on him and moaned loud enough to echo off my walls. His eyes immediately did the spooky crossy thing as he pushed himself into me so deep that my eyes also did the spooky crossy thing. I swore I felt the tip of him tickling the back of my throat. Did I mention that his dick didn’t quit?

  “Fark! Oi!” he cried out as I nervously bit my lip and bore down, hoping the condom stayed put with his dick hydrant.

  I slowed my pace, finally stopping, and hopped off my ride.

  Phew.

  The rubber was still in place and stuffed like a water balloon.

  “Um”—I pointed at the time bomb that was his wrapped cock—“that’s about to explode.”

  “Right!” He hopped up. “Bathroom?”

  I pointed toward the bathroom door and watched his tight apple booty walk away. My body still throbbed, my clit pulsing. I smiled to myself, knowing I’d feel this tomorrow. That was my favorite part of wild, crazy sex—being sore enough to remember it the day after. I pulled the covers back and snuggled myself inside, cozy and satisfied.

  “That was on the verge of being messy!” He sauntered back into the room, sliding into bed next to me. “You know there’s no Australian fuck flu, right? And as embarrassing as this is, I’d not slept with anyone in two years. I’m clean. But I understand if you’re not on birth control.”

&n
bsp; “I am on birth control actually. But how can I trust you’re not lying to me? I don’t trust just any man who tells me he is clean.”

  “I’m not asking you to trust me. I’d not push you into anything.” He leaned down to kiss me. “I’m just letting you know that I’m not some playboy. If you want to trust me, you will. In time.”

  “Thanks. Are you saying you want another time in my witch’s lair? I didn’t scare you away?”

  He pulled the covers back, tracing his index finger along my collarbone and grinning.

  “Is that what that was? You trying to scare me away? Well, you can’t scare me. I … liked it. I’ve never had a woman be so … ballsy for my ballsies.” He laughed.

  “Really? I don’t know how you keep them from ravishing you!”

  “I’d not had many chances. I’ve only been in two serious relationships, and for the last few years, I’ve been too busy traveling the world.”

  “Wow. I’ve never been outside of the US! Where was your favorite place? I’d love to visit Paris one day!” I settled into his arms, ready for story time.

  “Easy. It was Rome. I’ve never traveled anywhere I didn’t enjoy, but Rome is magical. The food, the people, the atmosphere—it’s very fairy tale. Old world. For an old soul like me, I suppose.”

  He continued tracing over my collarbone, working his way down to my tattoos. His eyes crinkled as he studied them, reading me like a book. I flushed hot, knowing what was coming next. They always asked.

  “Now, you tell me something. These tattoos, what do they mean?”

  “What do you mean, what do they mean? Why do they have to mean anything?”

  “I don’t know. Don’t people usually get tattoos that have some type of significant meaning to them? Like, this one, what were you saying when you got it?” He gently tapped the bluebird on my collar.

  “It doesn’t mean anything. It just looked cool, so I got it.” All of the tension that had left my body earlier was now back threefold.

  “Really? So, you only get tattoos that look cool? Nothing significant, aye?”