Tempt (Cloverleigh Farms Next Generation Book 4)

“You took off your suit.” She pouted, making me want to bite that plump bottom lip.

“You liked the suit?”

“I liked the idea of taking it off you.” She pulled my shirt from my pants and ran her palm over my crotch, her lips curving into a smile when she found me hard.

“You thought about taking it off me?”

“Mmhm.” She rose up on tiptoe, putting her lips at my ear, and whispered, “You know what a bad girl I am around you.”

“What else did you think about?”

“This.” She unbuttoned my shirt and opened it, spreading her hands on my chest over the tight white cotton of my T-shirt. “This,” she went on, unbuckling my belt. “Thisssss,” she sighed, dragging my zipper down slowly. “And this.” She slipped her hand inside my boxer briefs, wrapping her fingers around my thickening erection.

“You didn’t get enough of my cock tonight?”

She shook her head. “I can’t ever seem to get enough of you.”

I braced an arm against the door behind her. “What a coincidence. That’s exactly how I feel about you.” Lowering my lips to hers, I stroked her tongue with mine. “I want the taste of your pussy in my mouth again.”

“You can have it—eventually.”

“Eventually?”

“Yes.” She knelt and shoved my jeans down so that my cock sprung free. Then she took it in her hand and brought the tip toward her mouth, softly brushing her lips over the sensitive crown. “But there’s something else I’ve been thinking about.”

“Yeah?” I wished there was a fucking light switch nearby. I was dying to watch my cock slide into that mouth. There was a light on upstairs, spilling down into the hallway, but Millie was in my shadow.

“Yeah.” She licked my shaft bottom to top, sweet and slow, as if she wanted to catch every drip. “I had no regrets when I left your hotel room that night,” she said, her breath a caress on my skin, “but I did wish I had more time.”

“To do what?” I wanted to hear her say the words.

She looked up at me, and even in shadow I saw the playful expression. “To get on my knees for you.”

I groaned as she swept her tongue in a circle around the tip, making every muscle in my lower body tighten with anticipation.

“To take you in my mouth.” She took the first couple inches of my dick between her lips and sucked, working her fist up and down my length in deliciously slow, firm strokes. “To make you come and taste it on my tongue.”

“That’s what you want?”

“That’s what I want.” She flicked her eyes to mine. “So give it to me.”

Instinctively, I began to move—careful thrusts that wouldn’t scare her or choke her, coaxing her to take me deeper. She moaned and obeyed my wordless command, sliding her mouth down my shaft and back up again. Her fingers moved to my balls, teasing, fondling, closing gently around them and tugging slightly and softly. Her other hand slid up my abdomen, her fingers wide and palm flat against my flexing muscles.

My free hand threaded into her hair, and my breath came faster. I was torn between giving in to the savage beast inside me that just wanted to fuck her mouth until I came and the man who wanted to take his time, savor this moment, commit every detail to memory.

I wanted her to know how fucking good this felt, but I couldn’t even speak. I tried some words, but what came out was a garbled snarl that sounded more angry than anything else. But it must have turned her on, because she moaned and took me deeper, sliding a finger along the sensitive place between my balls and my ass that nearly made my legs give out. My vision went dark—or maybe I just closed my eyes, I couldn’t fucking tell—and I leaned into my palm against the door, my hips driving faster, deeper, harder.

Millie’s sounds went from slow, sweet sighs to quick, panicked pants, and I knew she had to be struggling to breathe. But she didn’t let up—instead she gripped my ass with both hands and let me fuck her glorious mouth like I’d been fantasizing about doing since the moment I saw her. And if that made me a jerk, fuck it—I didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was how deep she took me and my fist in her hair and the ache in my balls and the tension in my thighs and the fuck, fuck, fuck, yes of the climax surging through me and pouring into her. She took every drop and sat back on her heels, swallowing and breathing hard.

I loosened my grip in her hair. “Christ. That was—are you okay?”

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and looked up at me. “Yes.”

“I thought maybe I choked you.”

“It was a close call. But I asked for it, didn’t I?”

I smiled. “I like that about you.”

She reached for my hand, and I helped her up, noticing for the first time the hard tile floor in front of the door.

“Your poor knees. That had to hurt.”

She shrugged, her smile coy. “Clearly, I didn’t mind.”

“I’ll make it up to you,” I said, hitching up my jeans. “Like a proper gentleman should.”

“I know you will.” She laughed and put her arms around me, pressing close. “I like that about you.”

Up in her bedroom, she walked over to the nightstand and switched on a lamp. She wore a pink silk robe that set off the gorgeous creamy color of her skin and the gold in her hair. Her curves tantalized me, and I could see the pert tips of her breasts through the thin material, begging for my lips.

“So this is my room,” she said, and she almost sounded a little nervous.

As hard as it was to take my eyes off her, I glanced around, curious. Her bed was neatly made, and my eyes lingered on the white wooden headboard. I pictured her hanging onto it, fucking her vibrator while I spoke in her ear. The vision sent a jolt of lust through me, and even though I’d just had an orgasm, my dick responded as though it was gearing up for another. I looked at the nightstand next to her—was that where she kept her toy? Would she let me use it on her tonight?

My eyes returned to her, but she was focused on removing pillows from the bed, tossing them onto the floor, which was covered by a thick white rug. She kept her back to me, and I got the feeling she was avoiding eye contact.

I moved around the bed and took her by the shoulders, turning her to face me. “Hey.”

She stared at my chest. “Hey.”

I tipped her chin up. “What’s going on in there?”

Reluctantly she met my eyes. “I suddenly felt weird.”

“Why?”

She pressed her lips together and glanced toward the windows. I followed her gaze, thinking maybe she was worried about neighbors watching, but the blinds were closed. “Because—because Mason.”

Instantly, I understood. “He’s been here.”

She nodded. “It didn’t occur to me when I invited you over.”

“Me either.”

“Not that our relationship was very sexual,” she went on quickly. “It wasn’t. We spent a lot of time together, but our chemistry was definitely more friendly than physical.”

“It’s okay.” I brushed her hair back from her face. “If you want me to leave, I will.”

“I don’t want you to leave.”

“Good.”

“I guess I just wish things were different.” Then she shook her head and laughed. “How many times are we going to say that?”

“Tell you what.” I pressed my lips to her forehead. Her cheek. Her throat. I inhaled the scent of her perfume. “Let’s make them different.”

“What do you mean?” Her voice was already slightly breathless.

I untied her robe and it fell open. I slid it down her arms and kissed her shoulder. “I mean,” I said, slipping one hand up the back of her neck and the other around her lower back, “let me do something to take your mind off anything or anyone else.”

“What you’re doing is a damn good start,” she said, tilting her head while my lips devoured her throat and my hand moved over her ass, curved around her hip, slipped between her thighs.

“And it will be a damn good finish,” I promised, easing her onto the bed. “But I plan on taking my time.”

She propped herself up on her elbows and watched me undress with her bottom lip caught between her teeth. “I want to know about all your tattoos,” she said, her eyes wandering over my skin.

“Later.” I stood naked before her and pushed her knees apart. Then I glanced at the nightstand before letting my gaze travel up her thighs to her pussy to her breasts to her eyes. “You know what I want?”

“What?”

I reached over and hooked my fingers through the handle of the top drawer. Paused.

She gasped. “Bottom drawer.”

I pulled it open and spotted the vibrator—and my business card. A stroke of my ego. Smiling like a cocky bastard, I reached in and pulled it out. “Look what I found.”

Her cheeks flushed. “That’s where I keep it.”

“I like that.” I took the card and dragged the width of it along her inner thigh, from her knee to the apex of her body. Then I did the same on her other leg, up her outer thigh this time, and over her hip, across her stomach—she shivered—between her breasts. I teased one nipple with it, then the other, licking my lips as I watched them grow hard. Leaning over her body, I took one perfect peak in my mouth, circling it with my tongue before sucking hungrily.

Her hands moved to my hair and stayed there while I feasted on her delectable curves. Abandoning the card, I eased a hand between her thighs again, finding her warm and wet. I slipped a finger inside her, then rubbed it over her clit in slow, deliberate strokes. Her legs hooked around the backs of my thighs, pulling me closer. “Zach,” she pleaded. “I want you.”

“I want you too.” I straightened up and reached into the drawer for her toy. “But first, I want to play a little.” I turned it on and positioned the tip at her entrance. “Is this okay?”

Propped up on her elbows again, she looked adorably nervous, but she nodded.

“Have you ever let anyone do this to you before?”

“No,” she whispered, her eyes wide.

“Good.” I eased the humming toy in slowly, gratified by her throaty moan, the way her head fell back. My cock grew hard again as I moved the vibrator in and out of her pussy, a little deeper each time. When it was buried inside her, a smaller piece of it thrummed against her clit and she cried out with pleasure, her hips lifting off the bed.

“Fuck,” I growled. “Fuck, you’re so hot.” My eyes grew even wider as her hands moved to her breasts and she plucked at her taut pink nipples. Need began building in me, greedy and demanding, ferocious and hot. I clenched my jaw and breathed hard as I enviously watched the toy disappear into her tight, wet heat again and again. As I listened to her moan when I held it in place and angled it just right. As I imagined the way her body was growing tighter around the vibrator, the way her pussy would throb against it.

It was more than I could take. I pulled the toy out and set it aside, climbing onto the mattress and pulling her on top of me so we lay lengthwise on the bed. Frustrated, she tried to roll onto her back again and take me with her, but I kept her where I wanted her, covering her mouth with mine, thrusting my tongue between her lips.

She gave up struggling and straddled me, grinding against my cock. I knew she was close, but I wanted something else. I slid down the mattress on my back, hooking my hands under her legs and easing her up toward the headboard.

She grabbed onto it, lifting her hips. “What are you doing?”

I grabbed her thighs, pulling her down again, so her pussy hovered right above my mouth. “What does it feel like I’m doing?” I swept my tongue up her center.

“I’m not sure—”

“You don’t want me to fuck you with my tongue?”

“I do, but I’m just worried that you won’t—”

I lifted my head off the pillow and sucked her clit, making her moan with indecent delight. “I won’t what?”

“I don’t know,” she said desperately. “Breathe?”

“Baby, you took my breath away the night we met.” Playfully, I bit her inner thigh. “Now fucking sit on my face before I lose my mind.”

With a sound that was half-laugh, half-moan, she carefully lowered herself over me again and began to rock her hips above my mouth. It was heaven on earth, if you asked me. Who needed oxygen when you had this kind of heat?

I eased two fingers inside her and instantly felt her muscles clench around them. I pressed deep, twisting my wrist to find exactly the right angle and pressure, never letting up with my mouth. I knew I’d found the spot when her insides clamped even tighter, she cried my name and stopped moving except for the flutter of her clit against my tongue and the rhythmic spasms of her core on my fingers. The moment the tremors dissipated, I flipped her onto her back and thrust inside her, my cock aching for another release.

She was hot and soaking wet, and I drove my hips above hers with a hard, pounding motion while she grabbed my ass and bucked up beneath me. I came fast, and so did she, my body going plank stiff above hers as we shared the simultaneous, pulsing joy of release.

“Oh my God,” she whispered. “Oh. My. God.”

“Sorry.” I knew my weight must be crushing her and tried to lift my chest, but she pulled me to her again.

“Don’t go.” She buried her face in my neck and kissed my throat. “Don’t go yet.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” I adjusted our position, rolling to my side and taking her with me. “There. Now I won’t smother you.”

She kept one leg slung over my hip, and curled one arm beneath her head. Her other hand slid over my shoulder. “Smothered by the Navy SEAL. I’m pretty sure I read that book. It was hot.”

I laughed, propping my head in my hand. “You read books about Navy SEALs?”

“I read all kinds of books. But I admit, I have a thing for military heroes.”

“Oh yeah? Was your dad in the military or something?”

She frowned at me. “You just ruined it.”

I grinned. “Navy?”

“Marines.”

I nodded slowly. “Hmph. I guess they’re okay.”

She laughed. “You’d like him.”

“I doubt he’d like me.”

“Why not?”

“How old is your dad?”

“Fifty-six.”

Fuck. Her dad was less than ten years older than I was. And she was closer to my son’s age than mine. “There you go.”

“Listen, my stepmom is ten years younger than my dad, so he would not have room to judge us.”

“There’s more than just our age difference to judge,” I pointed out.

She sighed, her smile disappearing. “True.”

I tipped up her chin. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

“I think if I didn’t feel bad, something would be wrong with me. Don’t you feel bad?”

“Let’s talk about something else,” I said.

“Okay.” She focused her attention on my tattoos. “Can I ask about them now?”

“Sure.”

“Which one did you get first?”

“The one on my chest with the skull.”

Her hand moved over it, like she was smoothing its rough edges.

“And which one is your most recent?”

“The bone frog.”

She traced the bones inked on my shoulder with one fingertip. “What does it mean?”

“It’s a way to honor a SEAL lost in the line of duty.”

“Oh,” she said softly. “A friend?”

“Yes. Someone on my team. A mission didn’t go as planned.”

“I’m sorry.” Her eyes met mine. “Was it hard? The things you did?”

“I guess so. But we were trained well.”

“Did you like it?”

“Yeah.”

She ran her fingertips down my arm, following them with her eyes. “What made you leave?”

“I was wounded on that same mission. Took some machine gun fire to my right arm.” I rotated my shoulder so she could see the scar, although it was camouflaged pretty well by tattoos.

She gasped and hugged my right forearm to her chest, as if it had just happened.

“It’s fine. I had a few surgeries and it healed better than expected. I lost some range of motion, that’s all. It could have been a lot worse.”

She kissed my knuckles. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks.”

“So which tattoo is your favorite?” she asked.

I thought for a moment, then decided to be honest, even if it meant opening a wound. “This one.” I rolled to my back so she could see the angel wings on my left ribcage and the words little sister beneath them.

She studied the ink for a moment, then touched it gingerly. “You have a little sister?”

“I did,” I said quietly. “We lost her when she was three.”

“Oh, Zach. I’m so sorry.” Her voice caught. “What happened?”

“She drowned in a lake near our house. It was an accident.”

“How old were you?”

“Seven.”

“God, that’s so tragic. It must have been terrible for you. And for your parents.”

“It was.”

She kissed my chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get into sad things. And I know you don’t like talking about yourself.”

“It’s okay.” I put a hand behind my head and changed the subject. “Have you ever wanted a tattoo?”

“I’ve thought about it. I just never made up my mind about what I wanted. Now it’s probably too late.”

“What makes you say that?”

“I don’t know. I’m kind of old to get my first tattoo, aren’t I?”

“Not at all. In fact, I think the older you are, the more likely you are to choose something meaningful. And you only live once, you know?”

“That’s true. My sisters and I sometimes talk about getting matching tattoos. I think when the twins are old enough, we’ll probably do it.”

“The twins?”

“I’m the oldest of five sisters. The two youngest are twins.”

“Five sisters?”

“Yes.” She giggled. “There are three MacAllister girls from our dad’s first marriage. Me—I’m the oldest. Felicity—she’s twenty-eight and runs a catering company, and she just got married this past summer. And Winnie—she’s twenty-four, and she’s in charge of events at Abelard Vineyards, which isn’t far from here. And her boyfriend Dex was a SEAL.”

“I like him already.”

She smiled. “The final two MacAllister sisters are Audrey and Emmeline. My dad remarried when I was twelve, so they’re a little younger. Seniors in high school.”

“I cannot imagine being the father of teenage daughters, let alone five of them.” I shook my head. “That’s insane.”

“He’s a good dad. And Frannie, my stepmom, is amazing. My biological mom . . . not so much.”

“Do you have a relationship with her?”

Millie was silent for a moment. “That’s complicated.”

“You don’t have to talk about it. I was just curious.”

“I don’t mind, really. My real mom’s name is Carla, and she left my dad when I was ten. I mean, she left all of us—my sisters and me too.”

“Fuck. Really?”

“Yeah. Just . . . changed her mind about having a family and left. She blamed my dad, of course. Said he didn’t love her enough. But it was bullshit—I knew it even then.”

“I was about that age when my dad left too. But he left my mom for someone else.”

“There might have been someone else for my mother, I’m not sure. She moved back down to Georgia and in with her parents, and she never came back.”

“Not even to visit?”

“Not really. She’d make a lot of promises about visits, but rarely followed through. I learned pretty fast not to believe anything she said.” Millie was silent a moment. “She was hard on me.”

“What do you mean?”

“She used to get on me about my weight all the time. I was a serious dancer growing up, and she’d always point out how thin ballerinas were. She obsessed over her own size too. She was just very focused on appearances, and she had a way of making me feel bad about mine.”

“That’s shitty.”

“I used to get these horrible stomachaches whenever she would visit, and then I started getting them whenever she tried to contact me. After a while, I started wishing she’d just stay out of my life.” She sighed. “But then I’d feel so guilty. She’s my mom, and you’re supposed to love your mom.”

“Parents can really fuck you up.” Like what I’m doing right this second, I thought. If my son knew what I was doing, he’d lose all respect for me. He’d think I was a liar and a dick.

“Yeah, but she taught me some valuable lessons too,” said Millie.

“Like what?”

“I have a pretty good bullshit detector, honed by years of listening to her lies. I don’t automatically trust that everything anyone tells me is true. And I’ve learned not to look outside myself for validation—you can’t base your self-worth on someone else’s feelings,” she said vehemently.

I nodded slowly. “So you don’t trust easily?”

“Not really.” She raised her eyes from my chest. Her lips curved into a shy smile. “Although I suppose I trusted you pretty easily, going up to your hotel room like that.”

“That’s right. I could have had nefarious intentions. In fact, I’m pretty sure I did.” I rolled on top of her and pinned her wrists to the mattress. “And still do.”

She laughed. “Clearly, I did not mind.”

I kissed her deeply, slowly, as our bodies came alive again. My cock started to swell, and I groaned. “I have to go.”

“Right now?”

I looked down at her beautiful face, felt her warm, soft skin against mine, caught the lingering scent of her perfume. My heart was ballooning in my chest and beating much too loud. Too fast. “Yes,” I told her. “My flight leaves at six. I need to leave for the airport in just a couple hours.”

“You could change your flight,” she said softly. “Leave later in the day?”

“What good would that do? Even if I stayed for a week—or two weeks—what are we going to do, sneak around in the dark like teenagers breaking curfew? Hiding from people we care about? Hoping no one sees us and starts to talk?”

“I know,” she said again, her eyes closing. “I know everything you’re saying is true. I know it isn’t right to hide what we’re doing, and I know we can’t see each other again once you leave. This could never work—on so many levels. It’s just . . . wrong.” But even as she spoke the words, she twined her legs around mine, digging her heels into the backs of my thighs, pulling me closer.

“So wrong,” I said as I set a rhythm over her, fully hard once again.

“But it just feels so right,” she whispered. Her eyes opened, locking with mine. “Stay, Zach. Stay a while longer. Just because it feels so good.”

“God, you’re tempting,” I growled. “If you were anyone else, I’d have been gone already.”

“Give me tonight,” she whispered. “We can have tonight and make it last.”

I should have said no. I should have gotten out of her bed, put my clothes on, kissed her cheek, and said goodbye. That would have been the right thing to do, and doing the right thing mattered to me.

But in that moment, she mattered more.