On His Knees Page 8

  “Yes, come all over me,” he murmurs. I sag against the wall, as his powerful fingers go deeper and deeper, his thumb sweeping my oversensitized clit as he wrings out a second orgasm. I can’t believe I’m coming again so fast. This man...my God, the things he can do to my body.

  I pant, gasp for air, my hair damp on my forehead. “Tate...that was...” I stop talking. How can I describe what this man makes me feel? He climbs to his feet, his hard cock denting my body as he leans into me.

  With nothing soft or tender about him, he presses on my shoulders, and I go to the floor. “Take my cock in your mouth. I want you to take it deeper this time, Summer. I want to bury myself in your mouth.”

  Goddammit that turns me on. “Yes,” I say, and part my lips, wanting him to choke me a little. I lean into him, but he stops me.

  “Don’t move.”

  I go still, but keep my mouth open, widening it to accommodate his girth, and in the dim light he grows fatter under my gaze. “See how hard you make me?” He laughs, but it’s tortured. “You like making me hard like this, don’t you, Summer?”

  “Yes. I love your cock like this,” I say, open and honest with him, and loving that I don’t have to hold anything back in the bedroom—or the storage closet. He brings out the best in me that way, makes me completely comfortable with my sexuality.

  He rubs his cock, rougher than the night before as the salty tang of his arousal teases my senses. His hips jerk forward, and he feeds me his length, one glorious inch at a time until his crown hits the back of my throat, and I whimper for more. I shift a little, holding his legs for leverage. The floor is hard on my knees, but I don’t care. All I care about is taking as much of him into my body as possible. I relax my throat and lean into him. Footsteps pass by the door outside, but I don’t stop. I couldn’t even if I wanted to. I actually love it when he fucks my mouth like this.

  “That’s it, Summer. Just like that. Take it nice and deep, babe. It’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  We both move, find a rhythm, my breath harder and harder to catch as he fills my throat with his length. He cups his balls and puts his other hand on my head, to follow along with the motion. He thickens even more, and I work my mouth around him harder, alternating between licking and sucking, wanting to make this so good for him, wanting him to fill my throat with his cum.

  “If I didn’t need to be inside you so bad, I’d come down your throat, watch you drink me in.” I moan at the dirty talk, my body heating up all over again. Holy hell, could this sex get any hotter?

  He pulls out, leaving my mouth empty and hungry, and I whimper at the loss of him. He helps me to my feet, and I use the wall for support as he shoves the supplies from the shelf to clear it.

  “Come here.”

  Obeying, I push off the wall, and he drops a soft gentle kiss onto my mouth, a kiss so tender and sweet, it takes me by surprise. Why would he kiss me like that? I have no idea why, but I have no time to think about that, because he’s turning me around to face the shelf. His big hand grips the back of my neck, and he bends me over the long, wide ledge. I slide my hands along it and grip the rough back edge of the wooden board to hang on.

  “I want you like this,” he says, and runs his hands down my spine, until he reaches my backside. He squeezes slightly, his thick cock hitting my soaked inner thighs. He backs away for a second, and I go completely still, listen to the rustle of clothes. A moment later, the sound of foil being ripped fills the quiet.

  Please hurry...

  Restless, I wiggle my hips, but stop when he grips them. One foot goes between mine, gives a little nudge to widen them. I spread my legs, never more open to anyone than I am in this moment. My body is on fire, and if he doesn’t enter me soon, I might shatter to a million little pieces.

  His cock centers on my opening—finally—and in one hard thrust, he’s inside me, fucking me with an urgency that makes our sex that much dirtier, darker—intense.

  “You feel so good,” he murmurs, and leans forward to press a kiss to the back of my neck.

  “So good,” I repeat, as his voice seeps under my skin and into my brain, until I hear and feel nothing but him. My God, this man is in my head, and in my body, doing such incredible things to me, I’m not sure whether I want to cry or laugh.

  His body smacks mine, driving me harder against the shelves. Each hard thrust destroys me a little more, and before I know it my arousal peaks, and I’m coming all around his cock.

  “Oh Jesus, Summer. I feel you.”

  He thrusts once, twice, then stills inside me. I hold my breath, my muscles squeezing around him as he climaxes.

  “Tate,” I murmur.

  “You feel me. You feel me coming inside you?”

  “Yes,” I cry out, wishing we had no barriers so I could have all his cum inside me. He falls over me, presses hot kisses to my neck, his breathing fast and labored. Then he’s laughing, the sound doing crazy things to me again.

  I chuckle with him, even though I’m not sure why or what we’re laughing at. Maybe it was just the intensity of the moment that’s messing with us both. He stands, lifts me and turns me around to face him.

  “Summer,” he murmurs, and cups my chin, the gesture so sweet and tender, my pulse beats triple time. His finger sweeps my jawline, and his mouth is back on mine, kissing me softly this time. “That was—”

  “Fun,” I say between his kisses.

  “Yeah,” he whispers. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m not sure I’d use the word okay,” I say, and we both begin to laugh again. He rests his forehead against mine.

  “I might have been a little rough.” He puts one hand between my legs and strokes me gently, as if to ease the sting his cock left behind.

  “And I might have loved it.”

  His laugh dies down as footsteps walk by the closet again. “That was insane,” he says, his breaths slowly returning to normal. “We need to get you dressed.” He holds me to him. “Will you be okay if I let you go?”

  I hold the shelving unit, and appreciate his concern. “I’ll be okay,” I say.

  “I need to find something to clean you up. Is it okay if I flick the light on?”

  “It’s okay,” I whisper.

  The light flicks on and we both wince. “Damn,” he says, as he turns to me. “Summer,” he says again, and steps into me, to drop a soft, barely there kiss on my lips. The contradiction of wild Tate and tender Tate messes with my brain...and my heart. I pinch my eyes shut, and try to clear both.

  I just seduced the man out of his pants in the storage room. This is simply sex, Summer. Don’t ever forget that. There was a time in the past I thought a boy wanted something more, and that turned out to be disastrous.

  He backs up, searches the shelves until he finds some napkins. He softens them by rubbing them through his fingers, and slides his hand between my thighs. He wipes me clean, tosses the paper into the trash and reaches for my jeans and panties.

  “Lift,” he says, tapping my leg.

  “I can dress myself,” I murmur.

  He grins up at me, and my heart flutters. “I know, but I tore them off you, so I’m putting them back on.” He drags my panties to my hips, and then follows with my jeans.

  I fix the clip in my hair as he reaches for his pants, the napkin he’d stuffed in his back pocket falling to the floor. We both glance down and I see a hotel name and room number. I look away. Goddammit, I don’t want him to see my jealousy and get the wrong idea about what I want from him. We live completely different lives and this can’t be more than a fling to me, albeit a wonderful, hot, dirty fling that will fill my thoughts for the long New York winter I’m going to go back to.

  “Hey, Summer,” he says, as he bunches up the napkin and tosses it into the garbage.

  “Yeah.”

  “One week,” he says as he puts his palm o
n my face and draws my eyes back to his. “You and me. No one else.”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Tate

  MY ROOM IS still dark when I roll over in my bed and reach for Summer. When my hand comes up empty, I open one eye and stare at the threatening clouds moving across my skylight. A quick check with the clock and I open my other eye. Jesus, I haven’t slept in until noon since I was a kid. I stretch out as memories of last night’s sex-a-thon, as well as this morning’s sweet, sweet lovemaking, infiltrate my brain and put a smile on my face.

  Lovemaking?

  What the fuck? No, it’s just sex. The best sex of my life, but sex nonetheless.

  And it shouldn’t even be that.

  I let out a frustrated breath as it sinks in how far I’ve strayed from my original plan. I’m supposed to be here for Granddad, not myself. I don’t know what came over me when I suggested a weeklong fling. Well yes, I do. It was Summer. Everything about her draws me in and makes it impossible for me to resist her. I can’t deny how good it is between us, and I’m starting to give up trying to.

  I’m not supposed to be sleeping with her, but a fling could still work in my favor. Keeping her close might be my only chance to figure out what’s really going on. Does it make me an asshole, to use her like that? Maybe...but if she’s using Granddad, too, does it matter? Yes, it does, a small voice in me says.

  I run a hand through my hair, sitting up in bed. I flew to St. Moritz for one reason, and one reason only. Protect the family from a con.

  She doesn’t seem like a con.

  While one part of me wants to believe that, there’s the other part that reminds me Granddad is signing half his estate over to her. James Carson may be generous but he’s also whip-smart in business and money management. He’d never just sign all that away, then give me the run around when I try to find out why—not unless he was coerced somehow...or seduced. Add that to the fact that Summer, no matter how nice she seems, is secretive. She has no social media presence and she’s been vague about her work, and who she really is. And what did she mean the other night when she said she’s not the marrying type? Does she move around a lot? Change identities or something like that? None of it makes sense to me yet, which is why I have to hang out here longer.

  But I can’t get too involved, no matter how confused I’m getting about who she really is.

  I glance over, see the indentation on her pillow and that’s when I remember why she’s not snuggled beside me. She had breakfast plans with her friends, and then they were heading into town to do some shopping.

  I push from the bed and check my phone. Still no call from Granddad. Worry gnaws at me, but he has at-home care, so I have to assume he’s okay. That nurse would’ve called if he’d taken a turn for the worse...right? Christ, maybe I never should have come here. I think about calling my dad, to see what he knows about the situation. But I don’t want to bother him while he’s on his honeymoon. I rake my hands through my hair. It’s getting so long it’s driving me crazy. Maybe I should visit one of the barbers in town this morning and get it trimmed.

  I open my messages, answer a few from my receptionist, Helen. Once done, I hit up social media. I should have asked Summer the last names of her friends, to see if I could search them. I do another Google search for Summer Love, and numerous women show up. I scroll through them again, but the girl I’ve been sleeping with is a no-show, and none of these women compare. I continue to scroll and up pops a website. I glance at the link, which has Summer’s name, followed by the word practice and what looks like a bunch of spam. I click on it anyway and jackknife up in the bed when a picture of Summer pops up. Well, technically it’s not Summer, but it is her face photoshopped onto a naked body. What the hell? She’s obviously been hacked. I can’t imagine she’d do this on purpose, but what do I really know about her, and why would she have her own website? There’s no information on the site to explain this, just the picture, I make a mental note to keep checking for updates.

  I check the time on my phone again, and punch in Granddad’s number. It rings and rings and rings, then goes to voice message. I leave a message telling him he needs to call me, it’s important, then slide my finger across the screen to end the call. I jump from bed, bare naked, and make my way downstairs to the main level. The fire is burning bright, and I smile. Summer must have fed it before she left. That was thoughtful of her.

  My stomach grumbles, and I’m in desperate need of coffee, so I shower quickly, dress and head outdoors. I stop to grab a bite at my favorite café before I head to the bar. I don’t really have to work, now that I’ve connected with Summer, but I guess I still have to maintain my cover. That, and with Winterfest upon us, it’s one of the busiest times of the year. Henry appreciates my help, that’s for sure.

  I hurry to the bar and find it bustling. “Henry,” I say, and greet him as I go down the hallway to the staff’s lounge. I pass by the storage room and memories bombard me. I laugh. Summer has a sweet nature about her, so her seducing me here at work, well, that was quite the pleasant surprise.

  I shrug out of my coat, tie a bar apron around my waist and meet Henry, Jaquelin and Luca at the long bar. “Place is packed,” I say.

  Jaquelin sidles up to me. “Floor or bar?” she asks, and puts her hand on my arm, a suggestive gesture.

  “Doesn’t matter. Take what you want,” I say, and already realize my mistake.

  She gives me a coy grin, goes up on her toes, puts her hands on my shoulders and says, “After work, my quarters. I’ll show you what I want.”

  “I, ah... I’m kind of with someone,” I say, and glance around the bar, hoping Summer isn’t witnessing this.

  “I’m into sharing,” Jaquelin says.

  “I like you, Jaquelin, but I’m a one-woman-at-a-time kind of guy.”

  She pouts. “I saw your woman. She’s a vacationer, Tate. Gone in a week.”

  That makes two of us.

  “Just think about it, okay?” she says.

  “Okay,” I say just to appease her.

  “Bar or floor?” she asks again.

  “Neither for him,” Henry pipes in, and I look at him over Jaquelin’s head. Wait—is he firing me?

  “What’s going on?”

  He tosses a rag over his shoulder, and says, “We all have to do our part for Winterfest. And every year we do a kissing booth. Vacationers love it!”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

  Luca mixes a drink beside me, and I nod to him. I’ve only just met Jaquelin and Luca. They don’t know who I am, but Luca and I instantly hit it off. I wonder what his story is. He came here from Italy a few months ago, that much I know about him. A bartender is a great job for cash, but the guy is smart as hell, and could probably be doing more with his life.

  Henry puts his hand on my shoulder. “Afraid not.”

  “Please tell me you don’t want me to work it.”

  “I want you all to consider taking a turn,” he says forcefully, and points to the wooden booth set up in the corner. How did I miss that? “You’ll be helping so many people by volunteering. We do it every year for charity and it’s a huge success.” He winks at me. “I think this year it will be even more successful.” His eyes move over my face. “Although you might want to get a damn haircut.”

  I laugh and run my fingers through my hair. “Where should I go?”

  “Go see Luigi, down at Martina’s salon, then get back here. You’re up first.”

  “You want me to go to a salon?”

  “Luigi has been here since you were a kid,” he says quietly. “He’ll do a good job.”

  “I kind of like his hair long,” Jaquelin says from behind me, and runs her fingers through it. I flinch and jerk away from her unwanted touch. I’m about to walk back down the hall to get my coat, when she says, “Think about it, Tate.”

  “Think about what?” I
hear Luca ask her as I disappear. I shrug back into my coat and step outside. The clouds are growing darker, knitting together as they move over the mountain. But it’s warmer today than it has been. A good day to hit the slopes or go skating on the man-made rink outside Granddad’s hotel.

  I hurry to the salon, and an array of smells sting my sinuses upon entering. I wince and ask for Luigi. He’s currently with a client, so I sit and flip through one of the magazines on the bench. Numerous women glance my way as they come and go. They probably recognize me from the bar. That does raise a bit of concern though, something I should’ve thought of before. Some of the resort staff know me, but they know not to give me away. Thankfully, I was able to keep my cover the other night at the restaurant—the few patrons who recognized me were too polite to interrupt me on a date. But what if someone else recognizes me as Tate Carson, grandson to billionaire James Carson, and says something? I have enough on my mind to worry about, so I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it.

  Luigi finally comes to get me. He’s an elderly man with a thick Italian accent. He looks me over, narrows his eyes.

  “Do I know you?”

  Shit.

  “I work at the bar, pretty new here.”

  He nods and says nothing more, but I think he’s putting it together. He probably cut my granddad’s hair many times over the years. Maybe even mine when I was little.

  He sits me in the chair and gets right to it, humming to himself as he cuts, then shaves my neck. I shake my hair out and run my fingers through it, taking in the short, professional style I usually wear, and feeling more like myself.

  Will Summer like this look?

  What the hell do I care about that for?

  Luigi tugs off my cape and says, “Voilà. As handsome as I remember.”

  I cast him a look, and he gives me a wink, letting me know my secret is safe with him. One of the girls leads me to the counter to pay, and I make sure to give Luigi an extra big tip.