Passion in Bloom (Hometown Heartstrings #2)

Chapter 15

Heather

R oarke brought me into his room. This wasn’t the first time I was in here, but that familiarity didn’t work any wonders on me to make me feel safer or calmer. Clinging to him and mashing his mouth to my breast, I felt wild and unrooted. Adventurous and excited about taking a risk to go for what I wanted with him.

My previous visit to his bedroom was just for the sake of sleeping. To stay the night when I was locked out. I’d insisted on us keeping to opposite sides of the bed.

No touching.

Now, I wanted him to stay on me. Under me. In me. I wanted no space between us on this mattress. Only an intimate closeness with the sheets sweaty and tangled, until we were both fucked and sated to the point we couldn’t think.

He lowered me to the bed, but the second my back touched the comforter, he started to stand.

“No.” I sat up, reaching up for him, and he knelt one knee on the edge to come back to my demand for a kiss.

I didn’t want him to leave. I didn’t want him to back up at all.

I needed him, in such a primal way that I couldn’t comprehend or welcome, and any gap between us felt like too much to tolerate.

The burn of his hot caresses warmed me inside out. The strength in his fingers tracing over my skin soothed the gnawing ache of longing I’d tried to ignore for him. But it was the gentle tenderness of his lips on mine that kept me sane and tethered to this surreal moment.

He compromised, leaning down over me. Bracing himself, he put his hands on either side of my head as he kissed and licked, sucked and nipped. My lips would be swollen and so sensitive from his mouth, but I relished the promise of being sore somewhere else even more.

I reached for his jeans, making quick work of the button and zipper on the material there. The second I pushed at his jeans and underwear, though, he stopped kissing me. Instead, he stared down at me with such a smoldering intensity that it was a wonder I didn’t combust into flames.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

He hadn’t paused me when I went down to suck his dick. Then again, I’d set out to pleasure him spontaneously that I’d likely surprised him and caught him off-guard.

The last twenty minutes had been a lazy, slow approach, full of wet kisses and exploring touches.

Besides, I wanted something more. I wanted him , deep inside me and filling me until I couldn’t think straight.

He knew it, too.

Without words. Sans plans or speeches or any declarations of any kind. I preferred it like this. Raw and gritty, following what felt right between us. I didn’t want to ruin the moment with more questions. I wanted to trust in my feelings. To my shock, I wanted to rely on nothing but the instinct in my body and soul that this would be good. That he wouldn’t hurt me or trap me in any obligations to be controlled.

I nodded, too stuck in my ways not to verbalize my thoughts, but I could sense that it mattered to him. That consent, vocally shared, would be part of the criteria for him to finally cave.

“I’m sure, Roarke.” I leaned up, sitting fully, to kiss his face as I pushed at the fabric of his jeans and underwear. “I am very, very sure I want this.” To further prove my point, I wrapped my fingers around his long, hard dick.

He growled, thrusting into my hand as he cupped my face and kissed me soundly. Twirling his tongue with mine, he ended the maneuver with a suction that shot a spike of arousal straight down to my womb. My uterus clenched. My breasts felt so heavy, and the exposed skin around my nipples, where he’d sucked and licked and tortured me with his tongue and teeth, that area felt supercharged and sensitive to the cooling sensation of the moisture drying.

“I want you,” I clarified, revved up by how raw his responses were.

He moved his hands to remove his clothes, and I took advantage of the space to shove at my yoga pants and panties. The scrap of thin white fabric didn’t go easily, too wet and clinging to my skin. Just that evidence of my cream, of my arousal, made me ravenous for more.

Not just more.

All.

I wanted all that he could give me.

Whatever it took to escape from reality with him and just feel.

I shifted to ease my clothes off, but his hands were never far. His lips stayed plastered to mine, luring me to kiss him harder and deeper. When he reached back to shed his coat and his shirt, tugging them up effortlessly in one smooth gesture, I was treated to the show of his muscles flexing and bunching in his arms and neck. That one look was all it took to keep me in the moment.

He’s not David.

He’s not—

He’s...

I couldn’t finish the thoughts. Comparing him to my ex was stupid, but the idea pushed through my lust-dazed mind. The last time I’d had sex was with David, and even though it was past time to replace those memories with something new, I stumbled over the significance of what I was doing here.

I wasn’t David’s. I broke up with him several times, but I’d convinced myself that the breakup had to stick, finally, when I left Chicago and ran from him. When I hid from him, I’d severed the tie between us.

But I wasn’t set on becoming Roarke’s either. I couldn’t trust that he’d let me live my life as I wanted to. I wasn’t sold on this illusion that a man could be with me and not own me.

What was happening between us now was an explosion of lust. A break of desire. The tension and buildup snapping as we gave way to needing this release together. It was just physical, or I thought it was.

“Heather,” he murmured, somehow sensing that he was losing me.

I furrowed my brow, making eye contact again.

“I’m sure,” I said, worrying that he would interpret my hesitation as a sign that I was changing my mind.

He nodded, cupping my cheek and pulling me in for a long kiss. I rose onto my knees, meeting him in the middle. With his height over me, him standing and me on the bed, I felt like he was too damn far away. My leggings and panties stayed bunched at one of my ankles, but I ignored it, focusing on the press of his lips to mine.

“I’m sure too,” he said. “But we can wait—” I reached up to loop my arms around his neck, needing to banish that idea from his mouth, from his mind.

I didn’t want to wait. The suggestion of pure pleasure that he offered me was too good of a thing to pass up on. I knew how good he could make me feel. He had, with his mouth and fingers. And I wanted it again. I sought that ecstasy and release from having to think and worry.

“I can’t wait,” I argued.

Day and night, I struggled with thoughts of him. For every minute I wasted damning David’s return to my life, I concentrated twice as many more on wondering if Roarke really was different than David. That I could move forward not just on my own, but with him near and mattering to some extent too. I would be gun shy about entering a relationship. No one could blame me for that, but with this rugged ranch hand, his calloused fingers caressing me and erasing the pain of my past, I so desperately wanted to put my faith in him.

“I don’t want to wait,” I said, not caring if I sounded like I was begging and pleading. “I want you,” I concluded, pressing my brow to his and holding my breath that these words were the ones he needed to hear. That he would believe them.

“Then stay with me, gorgeous.” He leaned back to frame my face, piercing me with his green stare until I could feel the sincerity of his desire and hear the seriousness in his voice. “You stay right here in this moment.”

I nodded, then tilted my head to the side to give him access to laying more of those lazy, sensual kisses down my jaw and neck.

“I want to,” I replied, threading my fingers through his hair as he gathered his arms around me tighter, pulling me into a hug.

Once he held me flush to him, he lifted me off the bed. With my leg dangling in the air, my leggings and panties fell free to the floor. By the time that I wrapped my limbs around him, legs at his waist, my arms in a tight circle around his neck, he turned and sat on the edge of the bed.

Seated, he could reach for his nightstand. I clung to him with one arm, kissing him faster as I stroked that big erection standing between us. It was right there. So hard and pointing at my, and so very near my pussy.

As I pumped my hand over him, he growled into my mouth, struggling to open the package to the condom he’d retrieved. Then once he sheathed himself, he slipped his fingers toward me.

“No.” I shook my head, not in the mood for any more foreplay. Just being near him and breathing the same air turned me on somehow. His proximity was all it took to arouse me.

I didn’t have the patience to let him stretch me with his fingers. I didn’t want the delay of him trying to get me off before he entered me.

I couldn’t wait.

And I didn’t.

Before he could frown at me, likely assuming I was changing my mind or hesitating, I lifted up on my knees and reached low to angle his dick to my entrance.

“I told you,” I uttered around panted breaths. “I don’t want to wait.”

Then in one swift dip down, I sank onto his long erection, groaning at the stretch.

My pussy tingled. My breasts felt so heavy and achy with desire. Deep down, my uterus clenched with need. Through all my veins, desire pumped like molten lava. At the tip of every nerve ending, I felt shocked and buzzed from the pure pleasure of being stuffed with his cock inside me.

He slid in, slowly but surely, as I lowered over him. I didn’t stop, dropping until I sucked in every inch of him.

Until he was seated and I was full.

We stared at each other, locked in this exquisite moment of a connection I would never forget.

“Gorgeous,” he growled, digging his fingers into my ass. “Please tell me you’ll want to move.”

I laughed lightly, his comment breaking the tension, and lowered to kiss him. Hell yeah, I wanted to move. I lifted up, moaning at the fullness of his dick rubbing along my inner walls. Then I dropped down, guided by his hands on my ass as if he had to hold on for his sanity.

“Fuck. Heather. Fuck ,” he uttered, unable to speak clearly as he thrust up into me.

At the first wave of pleasure, I cried out and faltered in my up-and-down movement. My pussy clenched as I reached that sweet release. Coming hard threatened to knock me over, but Roarke held on tight. He growled, uttering incoherent curses, and pushed up into me one last time.

Deep inside me, slick from my juices, his dick twitched as he shot his load. He filled that condom, groaning as we rode through our orgasms together. For several long moments, I rocked on him lightly, needing to prolong the ride of perfect bliss for as long as I could. He kissed me softly, catching his breath as he hugged me close.

Just like that, the rush was over. The wait was gone. We’d done it. Together, we’d crossed a line we both swore we never would, and now that the tension ceased, I snuggled against the hard wall of his chest and sighed happily.

I was sated. I was calm , for the first time in who knew how long.

Cuddling was becoming all too easy with this man. As I nestled my cheek on his shoulder, sighing again, I felt his cheek rising in a smile as he rested against the side of my head.

A huge pop and crash sounded behind me.

I tensed, jerking into a tighter grip around him as he held me closer.

“What the—” My heart, slowing from the exertion of riding him, raced once more.

“Fuck!” He stood, turning until he could put me on the bed as the sound of rushing water reached my ears.

A lot of water, spraying out through his open bathroom door.