The Mistresses: Make-Believe Mistress

Her body clenched around his fingers, heels digging into his back as she moved frantically.

His name was a long sigh on her lips as her climax rushed through her body. He kept his mouth and fingers on her until the internal clenching of her body stopped and then he moved up her body, keeping his hand between her legs as he found her breasts once again, suckling on them, hoping to find some satisfaction from just touching her.

She reached between their bodies, found him painfully engorged. She scraped her fingernail down the side of his zipper. He tightened even more.

Slowly she pulled the tab of his zipper, reaching into his pants and through the opening in his boxers to touch his hot flesh.

She circled him with her hand, stroking up and down and he lifted his head from her breast, brought his mouth down on hers, letting her taste herself.

She pulled her mouth from his. “Open your legs, Adam.”

He shifted them apart and felt her hand move lower, cupping him and rolling her fingers over him. He tightened.

“Grace, you need to stop.”

“Why?”

He explained why in blunt detail.

“Yes,” she said.

“Yes?”

“I want that,” she said.

He growled her name and bent to take her mouth again. Her hand worked up and down his length until he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back any longer.

He shifted his hips, wanting to move away from her, but she tightened her grip, driving him over the edge. She tangled her other hand in the hair at the back of his neck and drew his mouth down to hers.

He lowered his head to her breast, resting there. Feeling the emptiness that was always inside him ebb for the first time in a long time.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and one of her legs over his hips. And held him, and he let her. Not wanting to acknowledge that he had found a weakness in himself that only this woman had brought out.

Adam lifted her into his arms and carried her into the dark house. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, not really wanting to talk. She was afraid that if she did this moment would drift away and she’d wake up. Realize this was a beautiful fantasy instead of reality.

She caught a glimpse of his bedroom—king-size bed dominating one side of the room, floor-to-ceiling windows with crisp sheers pulled across them—as he walked into the master bath and set her on her feet. He turned on the lighting over the garden tub and the largest shower she’d ever seen. It was a glass enclosed structure with two showerheads on opposite ends.

She was aware of her state of disarray. A twinge of embarrassment went through her. But then she glanced at Adam, who was equally disheveled.

He caught her glance and drew her closer to him, kissing her once again. She wanted more. She wanted to feel him hot and hard between her legs. She wanted him to lose control again only this time inside her so that she’d carry his mark on her and in her.

He drew back. “I’ll put some clean clothes on the counter.”

She watched him walk away and felt a little colder. She didn’t do sex well. She always associated it with some kind of deeper feelings, and maybe Adam didn’t. Of course he didn’t. He’d said at dinner that he’d never noticed her until today. She wrapped her arms around her waist, feeling small and oh, she didn’t like this feeling.

She removed her clothing quickly and turned on the shower, wanting—no, needing—to get clean and get out of here. What the hell had she been thinking? She had to work with Adam. He was staying in town to help her and she was going to have to sit across from him in meetings and remember the way his mouth had felt on her breasts. The way he had felt in her hand.

She stepped into the shower and lifted her head toward the water, hoping it would wash away the feelings that were overwhelming her. She braced one arm on the wall and tried to find her center.

But her center had always come from that core deep inside her that no one had ever realized was there. And tonight she’d let Adam see it. She knew it was going to be impossible to pretend this hadn’t happened.

The shower door opened and Adam stepped into the cubicle. She glanced up at him, praying that what she felt wasn’t on her face.

He didn’t say anything, just drew her into his arms, holding her naked body against his. She closed her eyes and rested her head on his chest. His scent surrounded her and diminished the panic that had been growing steadily since he’d brought her into the bathroom.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

His deep voice brushed over her, sounding like something straight out of her dreams. Tears burned the back of her eyes, because she had dreamed so many times of him holding her like this.

“I’m not … oh, heck, Adam. I’m not used to getting so intimate so fast.”

He rubbed his hand up and down her back. “Don’t think about that. Whatever’s between us is different.”

For her, she knew that. But she was positive that Adam was used to women falling all over him and she wanted to be distinctive, not part of the pack.

He tipped her head back. “What are you thinking?”

“That I’m an idiot.”

“Gracie …”

“No one’s ever called me a nickname before,” she said, the words slipping out without her permission.

She’d had two serious relationships since she’d left home and neither of them had lasted more than a year. She was afraid suddenly that Adam would be gone as quickly. Not because she needed a man to cling to, but because he was the first person to make her feel like who she was was enough. That she didn’t have to pretend to be someone else. And that really scared her, because she’d never been comfortable in her own skin.

“Can I ask you a personal question?” he asked.

“I’m standing naked in your shower. I think we’ve gone past the point where personal questions are out of bounds.”

“Why do you wear baggy clothes?”

“I … They’re just more comfortable.”

“I thought we agreed there’d be no lies between us.”

“Did we agree to that?”

“Stop stalling.”

She reached for the loofah sponge and put some shower gel on it. “Turn around and I’ll wash your back.”

He arched one eyebrow at her but did as she asked. She scrubbed his back and noticed the scar that ran along the base of his spine. She touched it, wondering where it came from. “I wear the baggy clothes because my body distracts men. Makes them think of sin instead of business.”

“Grace.”

She stepped away from him, retreating to the far corner of the shower, sponging herself. Actually, now that she’d said the words out loud, she knew that she’d revealed too much. She felt more naked than she had on the lounge chair with his mouth between her legs.

“I don’t know who said that to you, but that is not what your body makes me think of.”