Reliving fate, p.12
Reliving Fate, page 12
Cracking a smile, he turns his body, so he's facing me. Our legs touch, and my blood rushes to the surface. My breath catches, and I want to reach for him.
"You're regretting pushing me away in the kitchen, aren't you?" he says, smirking in a cocky manner. He takes a long swig of JD.
"You knew that the second I did it. Not the point though. I'm not jumping into bed with you."
"Have you ever had casual sex?"
"Yes," I reply.
"Ah, bad experience one or two?"
I'm not answering that. "It wasn't that bad with either of them--besides them not really knowing what to do with me. It was just pointless and forgettable and not something I'm in a hurry to repeat."
"I won't be pointless and forgettable, Isabella." The way his rough voice wraps around my full name makes my stomach heat.
Oh, I already know that.
"That'll be for me to decide...and I'll let you know."
"When I'm ready."
"You're either testing my control, or you're torturing us both," he says.
Somewhere between is about right. I'm not a bunny-boiler, so it's not about knowing I have all of him, but I do want to know that he wants me for longer than one night. And the more I hold off, the more I'll know if I still want him.
"I'm insulted that you think I'm doing either. And, if you're desperate, I'm sure there are a lot of women around here who wouldn't mind giving you a hand...literally."
"There are. I'm not interested."
Don't ask why not. Bunny-boiler territory. Do. Not. Ask.
"Can't say I blame you. I've seen some of them." Better to be a bitch than a cling-on.
He laughs, takes my mug out of my hand, and puts it on the coffee table. I know what he's doing, so when he tugs on my hand, I move myself onto his lap. He's still rock hard.
This is a bad idea.
My body aches to rub against him. I'm throbbing, and all I want is the sweet release that arching my hips would give. Rocco feels it, too. He takes a deep breath and tenses under me as he tries to refrain from moving. His hands are fisted on the sofa beside his legs.
Why did I have coffee and not alcohol again?
"What're you doing?" I ask. My voice shows how much I want him, which is a lot.
"Move," he demands.
Yeah, that does sound like a good idea.
"Rocco..." I want to say more, but words mean nothing right now.
"Shut the fuck up. I get the no-sex thing--well, I don't, but I'll run with it--but right now, I need you to move your fucking hips as much as you do. Ride me, Bella. Now."
Bloody hell. Who knew his ordering around could be so sexy?
I do what I was told and grind myself against him. My eyes roll back as he moans loudly and raises his hips in time with mine.
Rocco grips my arse and hisses. His eyes are wild, and he looks like he wants to devour me. Actually, he looks like he wants to fuck me, and I'm seriously reconsidering my stupid no-sex rule.
He grinds around in a circle while holding me in place, and I cry as the friction makes my whole body pulse.
Oh my God!
"Rocco," I cry, my body breaking into thousands of pieces as I come so hard I feel my heart pounding against my ribcage.
He stops suddenly, fingertips digging into the flesh of my butt. "Isabella," he growls through gritted teeth. His eyes are tight, and his chest rises and falls too fast with his heavy breathing.
Rocco hasn't come, and he doesn't want to like this. He is asking me to let him take our clothes off and slip inside me, and there is no way I'm going to say no.
I lift my leg and flop over onto the sofa. My body is limp and satisfied.
If he can do that through clothes, what is going to happen when he gets them off?
The thought alone has me burning.
With shaky post-orgasm hands, I take off my jeans and throw them on the floor.
Rocco closes his eyes and takes a breath. I would be offended that he's shut them, but he looks like he's holding on by a thread. I love knowing that he wants me as badly as I want him.
By the time he opens his eyes, I have my top off. I'm just in a pair of matching--thank God!--lacy underwear.
"Fuck me, you are perfect, Bella," he breathes.
Though I don't hate how I look, body confidence is never something I've excelled in, but Rocco's words and the way he's staring make me feel beautiful.
I'm so bloody lucky to have him.
"I really think you should take off your clothes," I say.
God, it will be the first time I'll see all of him, too.
Rocco hops off the sofa, grips the bottom of his T-shirt, and whips it over his head. I laugh at his eagerness. I'm surprised the material didn't rip.
"I know we've not known each other long, so it can't feel like it's been forever...but it feels like it's been forever."
"Right," I say, grinning up at him.
His words just about make sense, so I do understand. I've never wanted anyone so quickly or this much. It kind of scares me. After the last two disasters, I didn't want to jump into anything, but with Rocco, I'm leaping headfirst.
"You still have your underwear on," he says as he unbuttons his jeans.
Biting my lip to stop myself from squealing at his latest action, I nod. I haven't taken my underwear off yet because I'm enjoying the show.
Rocco's muscles ripple as he shoves his jeans down. No boxers on.
I take in a breath. He is beautiful.
The V! Oh, that V. Come to mama.
His legs are nicely defined. Chest is basically carved from stone, and--oh, sweet Jesus--his thick cock is standing to attention.
"When you're quite finished objectifying me, you should get fucking naked."
I blink up at him. "Um..."
Damn it. Words, Bella. Think of some.
"I'll take off my underwear," I mutter like a bloody idiot.
Rocco's mouth curves into a smirk. "You do that."
Try to think coherent thoughts!
Sitting up, I pop my bra strap open behind my back, not caring that my usually flat stomach doesn't look its best in a seated position. Rocco certainly isn't judging. Or maybe he just hasn't seen it because his eyes are glued to my breasts. At a size B, they're not huge, but again, Rocco sure isn't worried about that.
"Oh my God, woman, you're killing me."
He reaches out, and his hand cups my breast. I'm not at all prepared for the bolt of electricity to my groin that gives me. I breathe in hard.
I want his hands all over me. I crave his touch everywhere.
"Rocco. Rocco, please," I pant, squirming at the overwhelming need to have him inside me. Right the fuck now.
He reaches over, grips my hand and tugs me roughly to my feet. I slam against his solid chest. Air rushes from my lungs, and I think I might pass out.
Rocco doesn't let go of my hand as he walks forward, forcing me back. He's breathing thick and heavy. Desire pools south as he takes us into the bedroom.
"Lie down," he orders, coming to a stop by his bed and dropping his hand.
My eyes are fixed on his as I raise my leg on the mattress and flop back. My head hits his pillow with a soft thud. Rocco grips my thighs, and I almost fly off the damn bed.
Chuckling, he pushes my thighs back down and runs his thumbs up toward where I really want them.
I'm breathing like fucking Darth Vader, but I can't control it. I'm needy and so damn turned on that I could implode.
"Rocco," I whine.
I try to push my thighs together to relieve some of the throbbing, but he tightens his grip and holds my legs apart.
With the biggest grin I've ever seen, he slips his thumbs on the top of my thong and pulls it down. I lift my butt to help, and he slides them over my knees and finally past my ankles.
"Less talking and more..." I arch my hips rather than finishing my sentence.
"Five minutes ago, you didn't want to have sex."
"Things change. Please tell me you have condoms."
He raises his dark eyebrow and leans over me.
I lift my arm while he's rummaging in his bedside table. His skin is so soft, but the muscles make him hard. Rocco groans as I run my hand down the centre of his chest, splaying my fingers over the bumps of his six-pack.
"Okay," he says, sitting up and ripping the condom wrapper open.
I'm not going to say anything this time in case he slows down to prove a point.
I watch him slip the condom over his erection and turn his eyes to me. Without a word, he leans over me, supporting himself with one hand. Neither of us speaks, for once, and the only sound is our heavy breathing.
Rocco bends, and his lips press very lightly against mine. My brain short-circuits. His tongue brushes mine, and I moan as my body pulses.
It feels too good already.
He lowers himself more, and I feel him pressing against my entrance.
"Oh God," I murmur against his lips.
Rocco bears a little weight on me at the same time when the kiss evolves. He slowly slides inside me while his mouth devours mine. I wrap my arms around his neck, legs around his butt, and I kiss him back with as much passion and need.
I take Rocco's bottom lip between my teeth, and he drives into me hard. He grunts as he picks up the pace, and I tighten around him. His hips slam against mine.
He's too good. This is too good.
"Rocco, I'm getting close," I mutter against his lips as his mouth plays with mine.
My body is building so agonisingly slow. With my pulse jackhammering in my ears, I cut my nails into his shoulders.
"Close!" Like really close. I arch up, meeting every toe-curling thrust in desperation. Breaking away from his lips, I throw my head to the side and close my eyes. "Rocco, please."
He bears more weight on me, and the orgasm slams into my body, vibrating all over. I cry out his name and tear my hands down his back.
"Fuck, Bella," Rocco snaps, thrusting harder and then burying his head in my neck. He stills inside me, his breath out of control, the same as mine.
"We should have done that ages ago," I whisper. My legs feel like jelly.
"Yeah, we should have," he replies against my skin as he kisses my neck. "I'll be good to go again in five."
Rolling my eyes, I playfully slap his shoulder. "You'll have to sort yourself out in five. I'm light-headed, and I don't think I can walk yet."
"You don't need to get up, and you can't faint while lying down."
"Down, boy," I say, shoving his shoulder.
Laughing, Rocco pulls out of me and rolls onto his side. He's smiling and staring. It makes my heart ache in the best way.
"You look happy."
"I am, Bella."
I'm happy, too. Happier than I can ever recall being. It's an incredible feeling, and I don't want it to end. But it's also damn terrifying.
* * *
When Bella got over her control issues, she gave herself to me, and I loved every damn second of it. Actually, it was less about her control issues and more about the orgasm I gave her when her clothes were on. Then, she practically demanded I do the same, minus all the clothes in the way.
I'm lying on my bed, waiting for Bella to come back from the bathroom. My cock is hard again, and with my mind flicking back to being inside her every five seconds, that's unlikely to change anytime soon.
She was incredible. Hands down, the best sex I have ever had. No one can get to me the way she does. My back stings from the scratches she gave me. It's a very satisfying, dull pain.
She walks back in from the bathroom with my discarded T-shirt on.
I don't usually like to share, but she can wear my clothes any day. Her hair's a mess, and her lips are swollen. No one has ever looked so sexy before.
"Are you going to take that off?" I ask.
Her lip quirks. "No. Why?"
"You look good in it--don't get me wrong--but I prefer what's underneath."
"I have things to do, so you'll just have to get your libido in check."
"Or you can do that for me."
"Sure," she says with a shrug. "I'll leave now, and you'll have no choice but to cool it. Or you could give one of those girls a call. I bet one would rush right over."
"They definitely would, but in case you haven't noticed, I like you," I say, dipping my chin toward my rock-hard erection. I'm ready for her. Again.
"So I see."
"Do you need to be somewhere?" I ask.
"Why are you trying to leave?"
"The sex is over, so..." She purses her lips and picks her top off the floor.
"Ah. You're running out."
I don't want that.
Wow, first time for everything.
"Not running." She wriggles two fingers back and forth. "Walking."
"You should stay. We could go get some food."
What am I saying? What the fuck am I doing? I shouldn't get her to stay.
This is bordering on something, and I shouldn't let anything happen. Being her friend is a stretch, but taking her out again is far too much.
She looks surprised as she reaches down for her clothes. "You want to go out?"
"I'm hungry," I reply tightly.
We both know this is more than eating out together; we've done that before. We just had sex, and it wasn't dip-and-then-slip sex either. No, I definitely don't want to slip away after shagging her. I want to take her out to fucking eat.
"Okay"--she tightly grips her jeans in her hand--"we can do that."
She looks about as convinced as me that this is a good idea.
We both know that we can't be anything. Cinderella will be going off to uni, and then she'll marry her rich prince and live in a castle. I'll still be here, fighting for money and taking what I need. I can't be anyone's Prince Charming. The best I can do is the Beast, and that would get old for her really fucking fast. And, apparently, he owns a library. I don't even have one book.
"Where do you want to go?" she asks, chucking her clothes down on my bed and taking my T-shirt off.
Every inch of her glorious body is on show.
"I changed my mind."
"Get your head out of the gutter, and put some clothes on. You're buying me food."
I watch her get dressed while I pull on my jeans and the T-shirt she just took off. It smells like her. I'm half-tempted to take it off so that I'm not one of those people, but it's my fucking shirt.
Once we're ready and out the door, Bella gets in my beat-up Jeep and kicks a few cans out of her way. She doesn't care that my drive is a banger and that I've not cleaned it since I acquired it.
"Where are we going?" she asks absentmindedly while checking her phone.
"Not too far away."
Tilting her head, she glares. "That wasn't the question. I didn't ask the distance."
Here we go. I love this.
"Well, that was my answer."
"Why can't you give me a direct reply?"
"I did. It just wasn't the one you wanted."
"Whatever. Whatever, Rocco," she says, holding her hand up.
"Checking in with Mummy and Daddy?"
"Piss off," she grumbles.
That's a yes. I've not had to check in with someone since I was about five. I can't understand why she needs to at eighteen. She's legally an adult.
"Where do they think you are?"
Her eyes slide to the side and glower.
"I'm just askin'. Fuck,
"And you're judgmental. You don't need to know where my parents think I am. Why do you care anyway?"
I don't know why I care.
"I'm only making conversation."
"No, you're being condescending and kind of a prick."
"I'm taking you out for dinner, aren't I?"
"Only because we had sex."
"I think we should have some quiet time," I say. Talking to her is like taking punch after punch to the head. Repeatedly. And, still, I crave it.
"You started the conversation." She shakes her head and looks out the window.
And I suddenly feel like I'm married.
"My parents think I'm at a friend's house. They're happy, thinking that I'm finally fitting in."
"You don't fit in," I say sarcastically.
Instantly, I want to kick myself. She's sharing willingly, and I'm being a dick.
"Sorry, I didn't mean that."
"Nah, it's fine. I've never been one of the popular people, and I really couldn't care less if people liked me or not. I have no time to be fake or pretend to like what I should be interested in."
As frustrating as she is, she should never change for anything.
"Why do you care what they think? You don't have to tell them where you are."
"I live in their house, Rocco. They're my parents, and they're very protective of me and Livvy." She looks away again and takes a deep breath.
What else is going on?
"Because...they're our parents, and they love us."
"Obviously. But I want the answer you're holding back."
"I'm not holding anything back."
"It's not bullshit."
"If you're going to lie, Isabella, at least make it convincing."
"Oh my God," she growls. "You're such a dickhead."
"And you're a liar."
"They're protective because our other sister is dead!" she shouts. Her eyes immediately widen.
Oh, shit, I didn't expect that.
I look at her and glance back at the road now and again. Thinking of her being in pain sucks.
She shrugs and tilts her head. "It's okay. It was a long time ago." Her voice is weak.
It's not okay, and maybe it has been a while, but she's not over it.
"Yeah, but something tells me that doesn't just go away."
Dipping her head, she wraps her arms around her stomach. "No, it doesn't."
I pull into the car park of the only half-decent restaurant on the border between her side of town and mine.
by Natasha Preston / Romance / Thriller have rating 5.3 out of 5 / Based on32 votes