Torn (Lords of the City #1) (14 page)

Moving down, he released the last button on the shirt, leaving my front completely uncovered. Standing back, he took me in and whistled. “You have the most gorgeous curves. Let’s not hide them any longer.” Languidly, taking his time to appreciate every inch of my skin, he peeled the shirt back from my shoulders and let it fall from my arms.

“That’s better,” he said.

“Almost. There are a few buttons left,” I said and tore off his shirt, buttons flying in all directions. Moving down, I slipped my hand into his slacks and tenderly cupped his stiff cock, breaking all boundaries between us. It jumped beneath my touch, amplifying in girth and length. Giving Noah a preview of things to come, I closed my fingers around him, sliding my hand down his length. My eyes widened when my fingers wouldn’t meet, and I swallowed, both worried and excited about his size.

Feeling brazen, I pumped him as I looked him in the eye, daring him to break away.

When he did, it was to haul me to his bed. “Wait there,” he commanded.

Laying on the duvet, I listened to him unzip his slacks. Soon, he hovered over me, his cock fully erect. Hormones hammered across my body, pumping me with adrenaline, making my core jet out juices in preparation for Noah’s massive size. Teasing me, he ran his palm down my stomach and over my swollen pussy, playing with my folds with his fingertips, feeling my wetness.

“And I haven’t even made you come yet,” he said, delighted.

Clawing the duvet, my breath ragged from his touch, I bent my knees and spread my thighs, inviting him in. He drove two fingers inside of me. I wanted his cock, but the result was almost as satisfying. I cried out loud and nearly ripped the duvet off the bed as he circled his fingers around my walls, exploring me, pleasuring me. Using my wetness as a lubricant, he thrust his fingers in and out, working me, sending a wave of ecstasy across my hips and breasts, building me up.

Continuing to plunge into me with his fingers, he settled beside me and used his other hand to pull lightly at the buds of my breasts, which were still ripe and now tender from earlier. Licking his thumb, he smoothed it over my nipples, circling it around, creating a current of bliss that connected my nipples to my clit. I flushed, ebbing closer to release.

“Come,” Noah ordered. “I want to watch you come. Set your body free for me.”

To encourage me further, he removed his fingers from inside of me and concentrated on the pink flesh of my outer pussy. Sliding his hand down from my breasts, he pressed gently against my belly button, lifting the skin away from my clit until it was fully exposed. With his touch, it sent me over the edge. A glorious wave of release ripped through me. I was delirious, full of a joy I hadn’t known in a long time.

“I didn’t think you could get any more beautiful, but you just did,” Noah murmured, withdrawing his fingers. “You’re glowing.”

“Because of you,” I said, panting as I ran my hand across the hard muscles of his chest. “It’s time to return the favor.”

I rolled over with the intention of riding Noah like a cowgirl, but he stopped me halfway and gently laid me back down on the mattress.

“Surrender yourself to me. Let me decide what’s best. It’s part of the agreement.”

I’d almost forgotten about the agreement. My desire for Noah had nothing to do with rules or lessons. It was organic, built upon the friendship we had formed. Familiar with his stubbornness, I knew better than to argue. If I continued to sleep with Noah, it would have to be on his terms.

Smiling coyly, I lifted my arms above my head. “As I said, do what you want.”

Nibbling on my ear, he muttered, “There are many things I want and will do to you, Imogen Clare.” Then he reached into the drawer of his side table and unwrapped a condom.

When he was ready, he lifted the bulk of his chiseled body over me. My body swelled again, hungry for him as he lifted my knees higher than before. With his thighs between mine, he stilled, his cock nudging at my entrance.

Looking up into his verdant green eyes, I waited for him, longing for the moment we fully connected.

“Please,” I begged.

A corner of his mouth lifted. “Please what, Imogen?” he asked.

I would have said anything. “Please, sir.”

I cried out as he plunged into me, spearing me with his steel, my body stretching for him. His mouth captured the sound, his tongue invading my mouth as his cock invaded my body.

You feel so good,” he whispered into my ear as his teeth raked down the lobe. Slowly, he pumped his hips, moving leisurely so that every inch of him pulsed within me.

His slow, deliberate rhythm drove me mad with pleasure, leaving me aching for more. I arched my back, wanting him to push deeper, to completely submerge his cock within me, but he continued his sweet torment, gently rolling his hips, teasing me.

“Please,” I begged, my skin burning as another surge of euphoria rose within me. “Please fuck me hard.” I bit my lip. “Sir.”

It was the trigger he needed. He thrust vigorously, his cock shaking my body with its force. I knotted my legs around his back and grabbed his ass, guiding him in, moaning with pleasure every time he hit the end of me. The weight of his body, how it pinned me down, added to my upward climax. I coveted the way his sweat, his scent, mixed with my own.

As he pushed into me, he kissed my neck, lifting my flesh away with gentle bites. I turned my head to the side, giving him access to my pulse, which he ran his tongue over, tasting the salt on my skin. Occasionally, he released my neck to catch my gaze as he fucked me, his eyes blazing with viscous need, making the muscles closest to my core spasm until my pelvis clenched around him.

Groaning with pleasure, his skin glistened with sweat, dripping down the brawn of his shoulders. We breathed hard, panting as our hips ground together.

Moaning, I circled my hips with each of his thrusts, dancing to his rhythm. Hyperaware of the friction of his pulses, my blood ignited, and I climbed faster to the peak. I tightened my legs around his back and grabbed his arms, holding onto his strength as he rocked my body. Annihilating me with kisses, he continued his siege, thrusting in and out, sliding through my wetness.

His tempo increased as he approached his crescendo. Backing up, his ass riding the air, he torpedoed into me, over and over. Locking himself inside my pink flesh, he grunted as he spilled out. Whimpering his name, my body erupted in a golden bliss as I came with him, our limbs tangled together as perspiration sizzled on our skin. He pushed even deeper into me, riding his wave, and I cried out, the intensity of my orgasm matching the storm outside.

Breathless, Noah held onto me, refusing to pull out. Tucking my head beneath his jaw, I found solace having him linger inside of me, taking his weight. By sleeping with him, our agreement had been extended. We would stay faithful to each other, but he would be in command, my superior and my teacher, edifying me on all the pleasures my body could endure.

The following night, when the storm had passed, and the city prepared to deal with its aftermath, I stood on Noah’s balcony while he showered, alone in the black of the night. Without the lights from the theaters and the clubs, the city vacated, Chicago was at its darkest, its truest form. The night had summoned me, and I had obeyed.

“I expect great things from you,” I said, confronting it. “Don’t let me down.”

***

Stafford Scientific didn’t reopen immediately following the storm. While Noah and his executives assessed the building for damage, he ordered the rest of the staff to offer their services at the shelter that housed those left homeless by the wrath of the tempest. Power lines were down, pipes leaked water and waste onto the street, and more than a few cars were overturned.

With Julia and Peter by my side, I served food in the cafeteria of the shelter, doling out mashed potatoes and roast beef to those in line, mostly families who had resided in older buildings unable to withstand the raging winds.

“I can’t believe you were trapped here,” Julia said, expressing her concern as she salted the potatoes. “I mean, you must have been frightened all alone in the apartment.”

“It wasn’t so bad,” I replied, my face red beneath my hair net from the truths I did not tell. “My goodness, it’s warm back here.”

“It’s the ovens. We’re feeding thousands today,” Peter calculated.

“Still, to hear the winds ripping the city apart must have been awful,” Julia said, scooping a spoonful of potatoes onto a plate I passed down to her.

“Why didn’t you join us?” Peter asked. “We kept expecting you to walk in through the door. We were worried. You didn’t answer your calls, and you didn’t send us any messages.”

“You sound like the parents I never had,” I said lightly, teasing him.

“We sound like your friends,” Julia asserted. “We were concerned about you. I just don’t understand why you weren’t able to leave.”

I swallowed hard, though I didn’t hear any suspicion in her tone, just sisterly love. “I told you. I wasn’t sure my car would make it all the way to Milwaukee. I didn’t want it to break down in the middle of the storm, so I decided it best just to quarantine myself indoors. Really, I was fine. See.” I twirled around. “I’m alive.”

“I’m sure Mr. Stafford would have allowed you to take one of the company cars,” Peter speculated. “He was stuck in the city too.”

“How do you know?” I asked, trying to sound casual.

“He told me when I picked up his dry cleaning this morning.”

I swallowed again. “Well, whatever he was up to is his own business.” Quickly, I changed the subject. “So what did you guys get up to at my grandma’s house? If you heard an old lady calling out numbers, that was the ghost of Beatrice, a friend of my grams. Ever since she died, the house has smelled of markers and Bingo cards.”

“It was fun,” Julia said. “Kind of like a big sleepover. After Peter found me at my desk, we grabbed as many people as we could, those without families who were free to leave. It was a caravan. All of us camped out in the front room, sharing secrets.” She glanced at Peter and giggled.

“What?” I asked. “Tell me.”

Keeping his trust like the good friend she was, Julia waited for his permission.

“Go on,” he allowed, blushing fire engine red as he used his tongs to set a piece of roast beef on a plate. “I’m sure the world is going to know one day.”

“Peter reads women’s magazines!” Julia exclaimed, tittering. “Doesn’t that make him even more adorable?”

“Stop using that word,” he protested. “I’m not adorable. I’m manly and ferocious, like a bear.”

“A teddy bear!” Julia cried.

We laughed, and Peter shortly joined in, realizing the ridiculousness of his statement. He was a man, but he was no bear. He didn’t need to be. His personality was more than enough.

“What about the magazines do you like?” I asked. “You looking for style advice?”

“I don’t need it,” he claimed, seemingly proud of the baggy cargo shorts and Tokyo T-shirt he wore, a souvenir from a trip we’d heard about many times.

“Is it the Sudoku puzzles in the back?”

He rolled his eyes. “They give me insight on women, okay. How am I supposed to spend my life with one if I have no idea how her mind ticks?”

“So it’s research,” I mused. “How very scientific of you.”

“And smart,” Julia added. “Can you imagine how much better our relationships would be if all men read women’s magazines?”

“It depends on the magazine,” I said. “Some represent us more realistically than others.”

“You know, for a butler and PhD student, you’re kind of lazy, Peter,” Julia teased. “The entire time we were in Milwaukee, you barely washed a dish.”

“I wasn’t lazy,” Peter objected. “It was tactical. Why struggle with the burden of cleaning after every meal? It’s much more efficient to wait for the plates to pile up then use a singular momentum to get the work done. We left the place spic-and-span.”

“If you left it spic-and-span, then it’s cleaner than the last time I saw it.”

“No thanks to Peter and his singular momentum,” Julia quipped. “I’d hate to see what his apartment looks like.”

“It’s a mess,” he proclaimed, smiling mischievously. “Because of the storm, of course.”

“Oh, I’d almost forgotten. There was a letter for you,” Julia informed me. “It looked important so I brought it back with me. It’s on the counter in the kitchen.”

“A few from the senior center have been looking after the house for me. I’m surprised no one told me about it. Who is it from?”

“It didn’t say. There wasn’t a return address, but it was postmarked a couple of weeks ago.” She gave me a knowing look. “From Thailand.”

***

As soon as our shift at the shelter was over, I ran home, declining Julia’s invite to join her department at a swanky restaurant they’d booked.

Scrambling through the letters on the counter, I snatched up the one from Thailand. Hesitantly, I stared at it, wondering if I should burn it. Then I would never have to know if sleeping with Noah had been a mistake. I didn’t believe it was. Noah made me happy, adding an excitement to my life that was deeply personal and affectionate. I wanted it to continue, even if only for the year.

Though tempted, I couldn’t destroy the letter. I had to face the consequences of my decisions. Shaking, I tore the envelope open and read what was inside.

Instantly, I slid down to the floor with my back pressed against the counters, relieved. It wasn’t from Corey. The hotel I’d stayed in was simply informing me of a promotional offer. Hugging the letter to my heart, I exhaled, my panic subsiding.

The letter hadn’t been from Corey, but it could have been. Before, I would have been disappointed. Now, I didn’t know how I felt.

T
he red was gone. My office was now a contrast of cream leather couches set against earthy shades. If I couldn’t spend my days in nature, I would bring nature to me.

With the arrival of the new furniture came my realization that Stafford Scientific had changed me. Never before had I cared about interior design or the clothes I wore. At my grandma’s house, the couch was floral and yellowed with age. My clothes were bought in thrift stores and bargain outlets. We weren’t poor, but we were frugal. If we hadn’t been, there would have been no inheritance, no trip to Thailand, and no move to Chicago.