Fowler Sisters: Stealing Rose Part 9

"Slow and easy, baby." Flashing her a triumphant smile, I open the door and take her hand, pulling her inside. The bag goes flying onto a nearby table, the key card dropped onto the floor as I grab hold of Rose by her slender waist and pull her in to me, our chests meeting, legs tangling. We eye each other, breaths mingling, hearts thumping in time. Adrenaline pours through me as I cup her face with one hand and take her lips with mine.

I consume her and she consumes me right back, our mouths wide, our tongues dancing. She slides her leg up, close to my hip, and it's like she's trying to climb me. I break the kiss first and she nips at my chin, the sting of her sharp teeth making me wince.

"Careful," I murmur.

She smiles, nuzzling my cheek with hers. "I want you."

"Then get on your knees," I command, dying to see how fast she'll agree, but preparing for a fight.

Surprisingly enough, she doesn't fight. She falls to her knees without hesitation. Her hands go to the waistband of my jeans to undo the snap before she tugs down the zipper, spreading the fly open to reveal my black boxer briefs. My c.o.c.k strains against the thin cotton and she smiles, drawing her index finger along the length of my d.i.c.k, making it twitch.

"I owe you, don't I?" she asks as she tilts her head back, the sultry expression on her pretty face just about doing me in.

What is it about this woman? I should be casing her room for jewelry. Normally I would be. That d.a.m.n Poppy Necklace is here. I can feel it. At the very least, I should be searching for it. f.u.c.k her hard, wait till she falls asleep, and then go on the hunt.

But that's the last thing I want to do. Oh, I definitely plan on f.u.c.king her hard. Again and again, until the both of us fall asleep. I feel anything but normal in the presence of Rose Fowler.

And that should scare the ever-loving f.u.c.k out of me.

She's also talking about owing me and she's the last person to be in debt to me. No one is in debt to me. More like I'm in debt to everyone else.

"You owe me for what?" I hold my breath as her fingers curl around the band of my underwear, her fingertips brushing against my stomach, making the muscles there flinch.

Her lips curve. "For last night."

Not that I'm keeping count of o.r.g.a.s.ms or anything, but hey. I'm not about to refuse a b.l.o.w. .j.o.b. "Take your clothes off first."

She releases her hold on my underwear and I feel the loss of her touch like a physical blow. "You want me naked?"

Always. Like she has to ask? I'd keep her locked up and naked in this hotel room for days if she'd let me. "Definitely."

Standing, she tugs her shirt off, then undoes the clasp on her bra before she whips that off too. One shove and her jeans and panties are sliding down her legs, until finally she's standing before me with that perfect little body, completely bare.

"Your turn," she says, her voice raspy as she carefully settles back onto her knees, resuming the position like a good little girl. Her eyes are trained on me as I pull off my shirt, then shove my underwear and jeans down my legs until I'm kicking them off along with my shoes. Until I'm just as naked as she is, on display and ... feeling oddly vulnerable.

She stares at my c.o.c.k, her eyes wide, her lips parted. Reaching out, she draws her index finger down the length, along my b.a.l.l.s, making me shiver. I'm hard as a rock, my c.o.c.k arcing toward my stomach and already leaking pre-come. I'm dying to feel her mouth on me, her hands ...

And then she's there, her mouth on my skin. Soft and warm and damp, her lips blazing a trail from my hip to my stomach, her fingers going around the base of my erection, gripping me firmly. My breath stalls in my throat as I watch her, her long hair falling around her face, tickling my c.o.c.k, hiding all the good action from view.

Since I'm only a man, I reach out and brush her hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear so I can watch. Rose sends me a knowing smile before she darts out her tongue and traces just the head of my c.o.c.k, circling it, flicking at the flared ridge.

Driving me out of my f.u.c.king mind.

She's putting on a show just for me and I'm her captive audience. I can't tear my gaze away as she strokes and licks, alternating between the two, teasing me with those glossy pink lips and that talented long tongue. Until finally, finally she purses her perfect lips at the tip, drawing my c.o.c.k into her mouth deep. Deeper. She closes her eyes and relaxes her throat, taking me just about as far as I can get, and the guttural groan that rips from inside me expresses my pleasure at what she's doing more than anything else I could say or do.

Holy h.e.l.l, her mouth is like magic. I brace myself, tensing my muscles so I don't collapse as I slowly start to move my hips, adjusting my grip on her hair so I'm holding it like a ponytail away from her face. She bobs on my c.o.c.k, up and down, in and out of the warm cavern of her mouth, and when she lifts her honeyed gaze to mine, I'm f.u.c.king lost.

The o.r.g.a.s.m barrels down upon me like a d.a.m.n freight train. Like every cliche you've ever heard describing an o.r.g.a.s.m, that's what I'm feeling. The wave. The warmth, the tingling at my spine, the heat in my b.a.l.l.s, the tightening of my sac. I've got it all going on and then some and I f.u.c.k her mouth, thrusting hard and deep, the vibrations of her moan making my entire body shiver and shake.

"I'm gonna come," I tell her through gritted teeth, wanting to give her the warning in plenty of time, in case she wants to pull away. Girls don't usually want to swallow. I get it. I've never particularly gotten off on it, either. I'm more of a visual type, so I prefer ...

I tear my c.o.c.k out of her mouth, a reluctant gesture that has her pouting at me. "I wanted to swallow," she says, and a fresh wave of arousal takes over me at her words.

This girl is a constant surprise. She goes against every stereotype I've projected upon her and I love it.

"I want to see it," I tell her as I wrap my fingers around my c.o.c.k and start to stroke. She watches in fascination as I increase my pace, my blood rushing, my ears roaring. "Part your lips, baby."

She does as I say and I lean toward her, my c.o.c.k practically touching her mouth. That's all it takes. With an agonized groan I'm coming, spurting s.e.m.e.n onto her lips, little drops of white even hitting her tongue.

It's the hottest thing I think I've ever witnessed.

Rose remains in place until the very last drop is squeezed out of my d.i.c.k and I slump against the wall, panting for breath like I've run fifty miles, my skin covered in sweat, my eyes closing for only a brief moment because I don't want to miss a thing. Even after that major o.r.g.a.s.m, my c.o.c.k is still semi-hard and I know it won't be a problem getting it up so I can actually f.u.c.k her.

And I definitely plan on f.u.c.king her.

Opening my eyes, I watch in disbelief as Rose licks and then smacks her lips together, like she just indulged in the tastiest treat ever. She glances down, sees the splatter of come on her t.i.ts, and wipes it away with her fingertips just before she sinks them into her mouth.

"Jesus," I mutter, making her laugh.

"Are we even, then?" she asks huskily after she removes her fingers from her swollen mouth.

"I didn't realize this was a contest." I watch as she gets to her feet and walks away, heading toward the bathroom. The sway of her hips, that beautiful a.s.s-I can't stop staring. She doesn't shut the bathroom door, just yanks a tissue out of the box near the sink and dabs at her chest, cleaning up the mess I made.

The possessive surge that moves through me is foreign. I don't think of women as mine. I definitely don't take pride in marking them with my come like some sort of rutting animal. So what the h.e.l.l?

"It isn't a contest." She exits the bathroom, coming to stand before me, gorgeous in her nude state. Her b.r.e.a.s.t.s sway when she walks, the nipples hard and this delicious rosy pink that makes my mouth water. She's not shy, not hiding or worried about imperfections or weight or whatever else women tend to freak out over. Her confidence is s.e.xy.

"Then why did you ask if we're even?"

"Because I never want to owe you a thing, Caden." She brings herself closer to me, my erect c.o.c.k rising between us as she rests her hands on my shoulders. "We need to be equals in this ... whatever it is we're doing." She runs her hands down my chest, her gentle touch sending a wave of gooseflesh over my skin, and the shudder that escapes me can't be contained.

I couldn't agree more with what she says. Reaching out, I thread my fingers in her hair, give it a tug, and pull her in. "You need a definition?" It's best we don't. I've never defined any of my so-called relationships. It's easier that way.

Easier for me to walk away. And I'm going to walk away from Rose. I have to.

She slowly shakes her head, my grip on her hair not lessening, the intensity of her stare not lessening, either. Our breaths are rapid; my heart beats wildly and I'm guessing hers does too. "I don't like you," she murmurs. "You drive me crazy."

The chuckle that escapes can't be helped. I've never been told by a woman that she doesn't like me while we're standing together naked, so this is a first. "You drive me crazy, too," I answer, not bothering to confirm whether I like her or not.

Does that really matter? We're naked together. She just sucked my d.i.c.k into her mouth and made me come. I'm about to f.u.c.k her until she comes her brains out. Do I really care if she likes me? Or if I like her?

Heartless motherf.u.c.ker, yes, you do actually like her. And you want her to like you, too.

I also want her. I'm drawn to her despite myself. Falling for a woman like Rose would be a huge mistake. I could put everything at risk.

Everything.

She's the type of woman who would want to know my secrets and will dig and dig until I finally give.

And I'm not about to give. Some things are better left undiscovered. The wall I've erected around myself can't be torn down. The thing with a secret is that it becomes a secret no longer when someone else knows. There are very few people who know what I do-and most of them are partic.i.p.ating in illegal activity too, so I don't worry about any of them ratting me out.

"Then why are we doing this?" She sounds genuinely perplexed. Confused.

She sounds exactly how I feel.

"Maybe because we can't resist each other?" I kiss her, my lips whisper-soft, pleased at the little sigh that escapes her. She likes a gentle touch. I could be down with that. The mere idea of spreading her out on that big bed in the middle of this hotel room and touching Rose for hours tempts me beyond anything else.

Well, once I finally get inside that tight little body. After that, I'll be game for anything.

Everything.

Chapter Nine.

Rose

Caden's right, d.a.m.n him. I can't resist him. I don't want to resist him. He drives me crazy and I don't like talking to him much because he challenges me. Makes me want to open up to him, yet he's so closed off. I don't like that. What is he hiding?

Whatever it is, his avoidance of all personal subjects isn't stopping me from engaging in any and all s.e.xual activities with him.

I can't go wrong with that. The man is just as responsive to me as I am to him, and the flavor of him still lingers in my mouth. A delicious, tangy, slightly salty, all masculine taste that makes me want to get his c.o.c.k into my mouth again.

Soon.

Which is crazy because I'm not one for b.l.o.w. .j.o.bs, especially with a man I don't know very well. But I feel like with this situation, I need to take advantage whenever I can. That the opportunity to be with Caden could be as fleeting as the weather here in London. One day sunny, the next day rain.

One elusive encounter with Caden in a bathroom, then poof. He's gone.

So I'll take what I can get. Take what I want. And right now, what I want more than anything else is Caden ... and I still don't even know his last name.

"Get on the bed, Rose," he says, his voice this deep, slightly rough command, and I love it. So much that I don't say a word in reply. I merely do as I'm told, crawling onto the mattress on all fours, my a.s.s in the air, right in front of him. "Yeah, stay just like that, on your hands and knees."

Pervert. I knew he'd like that. Not that I really think he's a pervert because if he is, then so am I. I'm the one who invited him back to my hotel room. I'm the one who sucked his c.o.c.k into my mouth until he came all over my lips and chest. I have never, ever let a man do that to me before, but I let him. Practically a stranger, a man who drives me crazy, and not always in a good way.

What does that say about me? What is happening to me?

"Your a.s.s is perfection," he says just as he places his hand on my right b.u.t.t cheek. I still myself against his gentle caress, melting at the way his fingers slide lovingly over the globe of my a.s.s. "I can smell you, Rose. I know you want me."

I remain silent. There's no reason to protest or argue, because I do want him. I'm drenched with wanting him and in minutes, if not seconds, I will have him. He'll drive that huge c.o.c.k inside my body and take me with no shame. And I'll let him. If I don't watch it, I'll probably be begging him.

And I'm sure he'd love that.

His fingers draw closer and closer to my p.u.s.s.y as he strokes my a.s.s and I wait with held breath, dying for him to touch me there. Slide one of those long, talented fingers inside of me, testing me. The sudden image that pops in my brain, of Caden behind me on his knees, powering inside my welcoming body, his hips slapping against my a.s.s with his every thrust, sends a fresh wave of arousal coursing through me.

"Your skin is so smooth," he observes in that deep, mesmerizing voice that has me on edge. I close my eyes and focus on the way he's touching me. More fingers come into play as they curve around my a.s.s, closer to my p.u.s.s.y, and then he's touching me there. Teasing my folds, tracing the top of them, a barely there caress that has me exhaling softly, lifting my hips the slightest bit to direct his fingers where I really want them.

Deeper.

"You like that?" he asks, sounding amused. Sounding aroused. He knows I like it, so I don't bother answering. At least, I don't answer with words.

A whimper escapes me when he slides his finger inside my body, holding it there before he slowly withdraws it. Then he adds another finger, pumping them inside my p.u.s.s.y just as I push against his hand. My head swims with incoherent thoughts. All I can focus on is his touch, his fingers, three of them now, deep inside. He drags them back and forth, sinking farther with every thrust, until I'm working against him, riding his hand.

Riding toward the o.r.g.a.s.m that already hovers just out of my reach.

The afternoon sunlight shines bright in the room and I can hear an occasional honk coming from the street outside, the rush of the traffic, the rumbling roar of a city bus. Normal, everyday sounds that mean life carries on around us.

While a man works my body with his skilled fingers, a man I barely know. A man who's making me feel everything more intensely than I've ever experienced it before.

The mattress moves when he shifts position and then his mouth is on my backside, kissing and licking my flesh, nibbling it. All while his fingers still move inside of me, his thumb stretching up to rub my c.l.i.t, his other hand holding my hip. A moan moves through me when he blazes a trail across my skin, his mouth drawing closer and closer, until he's right there ... oh my G.o.d, right f.u.c.king there.

He licks me at the same time he removes his fingers from my p.u.s.s.y. I feel the loss keenly, a whimper escaping me, but then both of his hands are gripping my hips and he's sliding beneath me, his tongue playing with my folds, his lips wrapping around my c.l.i.t.

"Ride my face," he instructs me and it sounds so dirty, G.o.d. But a fresh gush of wetness floods my p.u.s.s.y at his command and I do as he says, backing up against his face until I can feel the stubble on his chin tickling my sensitive flesh, his tongue spearing me, his fingers coming back into play as well.

It's sensory overload. I open my eyes and turn to look at the large mirror above the dresser on the opposite wall. I can see myself and oh, I look a mess. My hair everywhere, my pale skin blotchy and red, my nipples hard as my b.r.e.a.s.t.s sway with my movements. I sit up a little, the better to see myself, and that's when Caden's head comes into view, his mussed hair between my legs, his big hand gripping my hip so hard his fingers dent my flesh.

"Oh." The little sound falls from my lips, drawing his attention, and he stops what he's doing so I have no choice but to look down at him. He's smiling up at me, his lips wet, his chin wet too, and he looks so devious, like a wicked boy who's just been caught doing something extra naughty, that I can't help but smile at him in return.

"You're watching me do this to you in the mirror, aren't you?" he asks.

I nod and return my attention to the mirror, letting my gaze drift so I can take in his long body stretched out beyond me. His c.o.c.k is full and thick-hard to believe I had that thing in my mouth only minutes ago, coming so much I'm downright thankful he didn't want me to swallow-and his erection brushes against my a.s.s. I reach behind me and touch him, my fingers sliding down his length, making him groan against my p.u.s.s.y, and the vibrations his deep voice makes against my skin is unbelievably delicious.

I keep my fingers wrapped around him and stroke him slowly just as he returns his attention to my c.l.i.t. I watch in the mirror, the way I move my hips as I ride his face, the fumbling grasp I have on his thick c.o.c.k, the way my b.r.e.a.s.t.s bounce when I toss my head back, my hair falling down my back and tickling my skin.

Again, it's sensory overload. It smells like s.e.x in the room. s.e.x mixed with the scent of my body lotion and the scent of Caden, spicy male and clean with just the faintest hint of sweat. I release my hold on his c.o.c.k and rest my hand between my legs, gathering the wetness there, lightly touching the side of Caden's face for a brief moment before I return my slicked fingers back to his c.o.c.k and continue stroking.

"Holy s.h.i.t," he mutters against my p.u.s.s.y and I go still, my breath catching, my chest heaving just as his tongue flicks my c.l.i.t, sending me right over that hanging edge. I release my hold on him and practically collapse on his face, leaning forward so both of my hands are resting on the mattress.

My entire body shudders as I rock against his face, his fingers, his tongue. He encourages me with filthy words, things I've never had a man say to me while having s.e.x. Urging me on to f.u.c.k his face, come on his lips, all sorts of wicked things that seem to somehow string my o.r.g.a.s.m even further along, until I feel like I'm coming completely undone.

I finally collapse, rolling over so I don't fall upon him, lying there on the mattress as I stare up at the ceiling, my chest heaving, my heart beating so hard I swear it's going to break through bone and flesh and fly right out of me. Closing my eyes, I rest my forearm across them, wiping at the sweat that trickles on my forehead.

The mattress shifts again; I can feel Caden hovering above me, but I don't drop my arm. Not yet. I need the protection, the block to keep me separated from him for just a few moments longer. He touches me, drifting his fingers across my b.r.e.a.s.t.s, down my belly and back up, circling first one nipple, then the other. A shiver steals through me and I try to roll away from him, but he stops me with a firm hand on my hip.

"Watching you come is the single most fascinating thing I think I've ever witnessed," he murmurs, his gravelly, deep voice full of warm approval.

I slowly drop my arm from my face and meet his gaze, ready for the embarra.s.sment, the shame to sweep over me and swallow me whole. I can't believe we just did that. Can't believe he just said those things to me, did those things to me, and how much I liked it.