by Vi Keeland
Fuck yes.
I lifted her until the tip of my cock was barely inside her. Then in one swift motion, I pulled her down on top of me hard.
She moaned again.
So I did it a second time.
Another moan.
I lifted again, and this time, when I yanked her back down onto my cock, I thrust up at the same time.
She moaned louder.
Over and over, we grinded and gasped, pushed and pulled, slammed in and slid out, until I could no longer tell the end of Sophia’s moan and the beginning of her next. It all became one beautiful song.
Her eyes rolled back in her head and the wall of her muscles clenched down around me. “Wes…”
“Right here, baby. Right here.”
“Please,” she moaned. “Please.”
“Tell me what you want.”
She stuttered. “Come…come inside me. Come now.”
I didn’t need to be told twice. With one last thrust, I planted myself to the root. My body shook, consumed with everything Sophia—her smell, her taste, the way she moaned my name over and over as she came all over my cock, the feeling of her nails digging into my back, her tits pressed against my chest, her ass cheeks resting on my balls. I was utterly and completely lost in this moment…in this woman.
“Soph…” I couldn’t hold back any longer. “Soph…fuck.”
A few tears might’ve leaked out as I unloaded inside of her. It was absolutely, positively, the most fan-fucking-tastic orgasm of my life.
After, Sophia was completely spent. Her body slumped into mine, and her head nuzzled against my chest as we attempted to catch our breath.
My dick apparently thought it was a volcano that had just erupted. It trembled with aftershocks, jerking and sputtering its last bits of hot lava.
Sophia looked up at me with a smile that could only be described as delirious. “Are you doing that? Making it move like that?”
I chuckled. “No. It’s got a mind of its own.”
She wrapped her arms around my neck, kissed my lips, and sighed. “That was really nice.”
I arched a brow. “Nice?”
“Yeah. What else should I call it? Nice is…nice.”
I clutched my hand to my chest like I was in pain. “That hurts.”
She giggled. “Outstanding? Is that better.”
“A little.”
“How about orgasmic. Does that work?”
“You’re getting warmer. Keep going.”
“Epic. It was epic.”
“What else you got?”
“Phenomenal? Earth shattering? Extraordinary?”
I shifted and gently lifted her off me. Cradling her in my arms, I stood, causing her to yelp in surprise. But the smile on her face told me she loved every minute of it.
“What are you doing?” She giggled.
I carried her to the top of the bed and laid her in the middle of it before climbing on top and nudging her legs open with my knee. “I’m going to fuck the nice out of you.”
She answered through a laugh. “That might take a while. I’m pretty nice, you know.”
I smiled. “That’s okay. I’m good at what I do. You know, some are born great, some achieve greatness, and some get to have greatness thrust inside them.”
Sophia giggled. “Pretty sure Shakespeare said some get to have greatness thrust upon them.”
Weston winked. “Maybe later we can do that, too.”
Chapter 17
* * *
Sophia
The next morning started the same way last night had ended—with Weston inside of me. Though something had changed between us. Instead of a frenzied race to cross the finish line, we took our time, exploring each other’s bodies. There was an intimacy now that hadn’t been there before.
I rested my head on his chest and traced the length of the faint scar on his abdomen.
“You said this was from a kidney surgery, right?”
Weston stroked my hair gently. “Yeah, the testing for this surgery was actually the day after our prom.”
“It was? I don’t remember you mentioning anything about an upcoming surgery.”
“We didn’t do so much talking on prom night, if I remember correctly.”
Thinking back, I smiled. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. What was wrong that you needed surgery?”
Weston was quiet for a moment. “Nothing. I donated a kidney to Caroline.”
I turned my head to look at him, propping my chin on my hands. “Oh, wow. I had no idea. That’s amazing.”
Weston shrugged it off. “Not really. Three years after the transplant, she started showing signs of rejection. At first, we thought she had the flu. But it wasn’t. The doctors tried to stop it by giving her immunosuppressants, but all that did was weaken her immune system. She struggled with being sick off and on for years. Eventually, she died from an infection because the antirejection drugs she was taking for my shitty kidney made her susceptible to so many things.”
I felt an ache in my chest. “I’m so sorry.”
“Nothing to be sorry about. It’s not your fault.”
Of course it wasn’t. But something told me he did place blame on someone. “You know it’s not your fault either, right?”
Weston looked away. “Sure.”
“No.” I touched his chin and tilted his face back in my direction. “You know it’s not your fault, right?”
“I had one job in life, to make my sister healthy. And I couldn’t even do that.”
I searched his face. He was dead serious. Shaking my head, I said, “It wasn’t your job to make Caroline healthy. I think it’s incredible that you donated a kidney. But I’m sure you did it because you loved her, not because you felt obligated to.”
Weston scoffed. “No, Soph. It was my job. I’m a savior baby.”
My brows drew together. “A savior baby?”
He nodded. “Caroline was diagnosed at a year old. My parents conceived me through in vitro fertilization. Only zygotes that were genetically compatible to my sister and free of all genetic diseases were implanted into my mother. I was a walking inventory of spare parts.”
My mouth hung open. “Are you serious?”
“Three bone marrow transplant donations and a kidney.”
I had no idea what to say. “That’s…that’s…”
Weston smiled sadly. “Fucked up. I know. But it is what it is. I honestly didn’t think anything of it growing up. When my sister was sick, I had to stay in, too. I thought my mother was just nervous that I’d bring germs into the house and make Caroline sicker.” He shook his head. “But she wanted to make sure I didn’t get sick so if my sister needed another transplant, I’d be healthy.”
“You and Caroline always seemed so close. I remember seeing you walk home from school together and studying in the library all the time. I was always kind of jealous of your relationship with her because all I had was my dumbass half-brother.”
“We were close. I loved Caroline more than I loved myself. If there had been a way for me to be the sick one, instead of her, I would’ve changed places with her in a heartbeat. She was an amazing person.”
I tasted salt in my throat. “That’s beautiful. It really is. But that shows you didn’t help Caroline because it was your job; you did it out of love.”
Weston looked at me. He seemed to search my eyes before speaking again. “When I was born, my grandfather put five-million dollars into an account for me. I thought he did that for all of his grandchildren. The night of Caroline’s funeral, I found out I was the only one with that kind of a trust fund. He’d set it up to compensate me for being Caroline’s donor.”
I blew out a ragged breath. “That’s screwed up.”
“My mother calls me twice a year—on Caroline’s birthday and the anniversary of her death. She hasn’t called me on my birthday in ten years.”
“God, Weston.”
He smiled and brushed a hand over my hair. “You thought your family
was fucked up? They don’t hold a candle, sweetheart.”
I thought about how he’d gone on a downward spiral after his sister’s death. What he’d just shared made the reasons so much clearer.
I dropped a tender kiss above his heart. “I’m sorry,” I said. “Not for your loss—although obviously I’m sorry for that, too. But I’m sorry I judged you for so many years without ever getting to know you. Underneath the asshole exterior you wear so proudly is a really beautiful man.”
Weston stared off at nothing in particular. “You’re a good person, and good people look for the good in everyone.”
“So? What’s wrong with that? Is that such a bad thing? Wanting to find good?”
He turned back to look at me and smiled sadly. “It shouldn’t be. But it skews what you see. Sometimes what people are showing you is really who they are.”
I thought he was wrong. But I knew there was no point in arguing. I looked down and traced his scar again. “Can I ask you something personal?”
“Because everything you’ve asked me in the last ten minutes—or the last few weeks, for that matter—hasn’t been?”
I laughed and smacked his abs. “Shut up, Lockwood.”
He smiled. “What’s your question, nosy?”
“Do you talk about these things with the therapist you go to? About losing your sister and how you felt responsible for her well-being?”
Weston frowned. “I go to the shrink because it’s a condition of keeping my job. I’m not there to be fixed.”
Silence stretched between us until eventually Weston cleared his throat. “I’m going to get going. I have to visit a friend this morning.”
“Oh… Okay.”
I shifted to my side so he could get up and watched as he got dressed. I wasn’t sure if Weston really had somewhere to go or if our conversation had made him uncomfortable enough that he had the urge to flee. Either way, the air in the room had shifted. I pulled the sheet up to my shoulders to ward off the chill.
Weston leaned down and kissed my forehead. “I’ll see you later?”
I forced a smile. “Sure.”
A minute later, the door clicked closed. I lie in bed by myself, going over the last twenty-four hours. Sex with Weston was beyond a doubt the most amazing physical experience I’d ever had with a man. We had undeniable chemistry. I’d thought the intense spark came from the push and pull of our antagonistic feuding, but last night, there was no feud, and our connection and chemistry were more intense than ever. So maybe there was more to it than taking out our pent-up frustrations on each other.
For some reason, that thought made me nervous. Was I gun-shy after what happened between Liam and me? Or was my inner self-protective mechanism giving me a warning that had everything to do with Weston Lockwood?
It was a lot to think about. Luckily, my cell phone buzzed on the nightstand, interrupting what I was about to overanalyze. Scarlett’s name flashed on the screen, making me smile.
“Good morning,” she said. With just those two simple words, I could tell she was smiling on the other end of the phone. “Am I interrupting something?”
“No. I’m just lying here in bed, all by my lonesome, being lazy.”
“All by your lonesome?”
I laughed. I knew what she was getting at. Scarlett didn’t do subtle. “Yes, Weston just left a few minutes ago.”
“Perfect. Then open the door.”
My forehead wrinkled. “What door?”
A knock rang out in surround sound. It came through the phone and also from the other room of my suite. “This one. And hurry. Our breakfast is getting cold.”
***
“So…anything interesting happen after I got off the elevator?” Scarlett’s eyes twinkled.
I picked a piece of pineapple from the plate of fresh fruit and shoved the entire thing into my mouth. Pointing, I mumbled as if I couldn’t respond because my mouth was full.
Scarlett laughed. “That’s what I thought. Weston couldn’t keep his eyes off of you all night at the club.”
I sighed. “We definitely have good chemistry.”
“That’s it? Just good chemistry?”
I shook my head. “I honestly have no idea anymore. It started out as purely physical—we were basically hate-fucking, Scarlett. But things have changed. He’s still a pain in my ass, but there’s more to him than he wants people to see. Like, he goes out of his way to make me laugh. He knows my ex was a playwright, so he recites these Shakespearean quotes, only he turns them dirty. Like, It’s better to have been fucked once than never have been fucked at all, or To come or not to come, that is the question. I just know he sits at his desk reading Shakespeare so I’ll crack a little smile. It’s oddly sweet.”
Scarlett swiped a grape and popped it into her mouth. “So he’s handsome, thoughtful, and funny. Sounds awful.”
“He’s also very protective of the people he cares about, though he doesn’t seem to let many people in.”
“Sounds like someone else I know…”
I nodded. “I always thought we were so different. But the more I get to know him, the more I realize we just choose to wear different masks.”
“Wow… That sounds deep and boring as shit.” Scarlett grinned. “And here I thought I was going to get to hear how he banged the shit out of you. But instead, I’m being subjected to feelings… Yuck.”
I tossed a pillow at her and laughed. “Shut up.”
“Seriously, I like this one.”
“It’s probably the dumbest thing I’ve ever done.”
“Why?”
“Well, for starters, as I believe I’ve mentioned, his family and my family have been at war for half a century. But even if we put all of that aside, there’s a million reasons it’s a bad idea. I just came out of a long-term relationship. This thing between me and Weston has rebound written all over it. Come on—I hopped from a nice-looking, safe, stable playwright to the sexy-as-sin bad boy with a ton of baggage. Could it be any more cliché? Not to mention, we both have some pretty big trust issues.” I shook my head. “Weston is like a bright star on a dark night. He can light up the sky, but eventually that fire burns out and all the pieces crumble. Then you’re left in the dark.”
“You do know the sun is a star, too, right? Sometimes we can rely on a star to come back every day.”
I sighed.
“You’ll figure it out,” Scarlett said. “Just promise you won’t let your family or Liam factor into your decision whether Weston might be right for you. Whatever you decide, it should be about you and Weston only.”
I nodded. “Thanks.”
After we finished breakfast, Scarlett talked me into going shopping. I went to check in on the construction, since we had crews running even on Sundays. Then I took a quick shower and tied my hair up while she sat in my suite having a third cup of coffee and reading bits and pieces of the news to me aloud. It felt exactly like a Sunday morning back in London. Which made me realize I wasn’t going to lose our friendship because of the distance between us now. Where we were didn’t matter; we’d always find a way. London just wasn’t my home anymore.
“You ready to go shopping?” I asked when I was finally ready, grabbing my purse.
She looked down. “I’m wearing flats. What does that tell you?”
I smiled. While I often wore flats, and even sneakers sometimes, Scarlett almost always wore heels of some sort, unless she was exercising. Which meant we’d both be getting a full cardio workout today as we ran around the City.
Opening the door to my suite, I almost crashed into a bellman who had his knuckles raised to knock on my door. Startled, my hand flew to my chest as I stopped abruptly.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said.
“My fault. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going. It’s Walter, right?”
“It is.” He nodded and smiled, then held up a long white flower box. “I was just delivering this. Mr. Lockwood said I should put them in your su
ite if you weren’t here.”
“Mr. Lockwood asked you to deliver them?”
He nodded. “He was at the front desk when they were delivered a few minutes ago.”
I was surprised, not just that Weston had sent me flowers, but that he’d had a member of the staff deliver them to me. For the most part, we’d been very discreet around the hotel.
“Oh. Okay, thank you.”
Walter passed me the box and turned to go.
“Wait! Let me give you a tip.” I dug in my purse, but the bellman held up his hand.
“Mr. Lockwood already took care of that. But thank you.”
Scarlett was all smiles as I brought the box into the suite.
“Looks like your flash-in-the-pan star has a romantic side.”
The box was tied with a big red bow, so I set it down on the living room coffee table and untied it. Inside were two dozen beautiful yellow roses. A small card lay on top. I didn’t even realize I was smiling until I slipped it from the envelope and read. Then I felt my upturned lips droop to a frown.
The course of true love never did run smooth.
I miss you. Please call me back.
-Liam
Scarlett saw my face and walked over to peek at the card.
“It doesn’t run smooth?” she said. “Yes, true love will hit some bumps in the road when you stick your dick in your girlfriend’s cousin. God, that man truly is a tosser.”
“The quote is from Shakespeare.”
“Figures.” She rolled her eyes. “Dull roses and recycled bullshit. The man never could be original. I bet if Weston sent you flowers, they’d be wildflowers or something as rare and unique as you are. And I’d prefer a card that said, ‘Let’s fuck’ over some pretentious quote any day of the week.”
Weston.
Shit.
I’d momentarily forgotten that the bellman said Mr. Lockwood had accepted the delivery and made sure they were sent right up to my room.
But something told me when I ran into him next, he wouldn’t have forgotten.
Chapter 18
* * *
Weston