Lorelei James - Unwound

After he broke the lip-lock, he murmured, “You’re so fucking sexy. I can’t get enough of you. Hold on.”

He ditched his pants and turned her so she was completely on the counter. Then he climbed up between her thighs and balanced on his haunches, ignoring the throb in his knee. He scooped her ass cheeks into his hands, keeping her body angled, raising her up just high enough so he could lean forward and lodge his cock into her.

At the first thrust, he watched her, expecting she’d ask if he was in any pain, given their position. But all he saw was dark desire in her eyes. Her tits bounced with every hard plunge.

The quiet between them added to the eroticism. Sometimes silence spoke louder than any play-by-play. They were so in tune—breathing, heart rate, and their movements—that Ronin began a tantric rhythm. Putting only his cock head inside her, then pulling out, then slamming deep and holding himself at full penetration for two seconds. He built that short-long-hold tempo, starting at one stroke and building to nine. By the time they reached the seventh set of nine, they were both covered in sweat and the need for release pulsed in the air.

During the eighth set, Amery made a soft whimper, and Ronin placed his hand on her heart—the anahata chakra.

At that pinnacle moment when they climbed up to the last set of nine, he slid his hand down and stroked her clit.

She shattered.

Being seated inside her to the root, without moving, he felt every contraction of her pussy muscles clear into his balls as she milked his orgasm.

And even in the intense moment with the pulsing and connection consuming him, his head counted to nine.

Nine pulses of her clit beneath his finger.

Nine pulls of her inner muscles.

Nine bursts of heat shooting from his cock.

His head fell back. He seemed to float outside his body, yet he’d never been more grounded.

When his senses returned, he glanced down at her.

She blinked at him with sated, sleepy eyes. “What the hell was that, Master Black?”

Heaven. “Tantric circle of nine.”

Ronin lowered her butt to the counter and broke the connection of their bodies. Then he ran his palms up her torso, gently cupping her breasts. “You’re beautiful.”

“So are you.” She tried to level out her breathing. “Is there any eastern philosophy or discipline you’re unfamiliar with?”

He swept his thumbs over her nipples. “I lived in a monastery for four years. I studied and trained. That’s all there was to do.”

“That tantric thing cannot be learned from reading a book.”

“Do you really want to talk about those lessons now?” A pierc- ing pain shot through his knee, and he ducked his head to hide his wince, focusing on undoing the knots at Amery’s ankles. “Any pain?” he asked as he gently rubbed her anklebones and her calves.

“No, because I can’t feel my arms.”

He slowly pulled her upright by the shoulders and unbound her wrists. “Tell me when it starts to tingle.”

“Now.”

Fuck. He should’ve paid more attention to—

“Ronin, I’m fine.”

He nuzzled her neck, filling his lungs with the scent of her skin as he rubbed circulation back into her arms. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. That was so intense I forgot I even had arms.”

“We were sort of on another plane, weren’t we?”

“You’ve got lots of . . . sex moves that I’ve never heard of, don’t you?”

“Doesn’t that make you want to move in and stay with me forever?”

The way she stiffened beneath him bothered him. He pulled back and looked at her. “What?”

“But I don’t have an encyclopedia of fancy sex tricks to keep you interested in me forever.”

“As long as you’re enjoying what we do together, I don’t care. It’s not a competition. There won’t be a test.” He swept his thumb across her lips. “If we never do anything except make love face-to-face in our bed, baby, I’m good with that. I love you. And you know that’s not just the afterglow of hot sex talking. It’s all me.”

Her big blue eyes softened, but she didn’t respond in kind—either that she loved him or she couldn’t wait to make his bed theirs by moving in. Yet she did wrap herself around him and kiss him with a perfect mix of desire, sweetness, and gratitude.

Since he suspected he had a ways to go in establishing trust between them again, he had to put himself out there first. “So back to our original discussion.”

“Which discussion was that? Because you completely scrambled my brain with your tantric sex moves.”

“About the book cover. I’ll let you use a picture of me, as long as I’m not recognizable.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

Amery’s telling smirk ruined her feigned look of surprise. She’d riled him up on purpose, talking about hiring a male model.

His thoughts flashed back to when his ex had pouted and lied to manipulate him. But he couldn’t draw parallels between the two women when they were polar opposites. Amery was a terrible liar—too honest almost to a fault. He couldn’t remember any instance when she’d used manipulation to get her way.

But then, you wouldn’t know until it was too late, would you?

“I promise you won’t regret this.” She leaned forward to hug him and made a sour face. “Ouch. My butt is sticking to the counter.”

“We did make a mess.”

“You made a mess.”

“Good thing the cleaning service comes tomorrow.”

Amery lightly whapped him on the chest. “Ronin Black, we are not leaving this for your housekeeper to clean up! That’s just . . .” Her eyes narrowed. “You’re yanking my chain. You’d never leave a mess for someone else to clean up just because you can. You sure don’t act like I expected a billionaire would.”

“You sound disappointed.”

“Not hardly. Grab a rag, moneybags, and start wiping.”

RONIN understood why Thaddeus Pettigrew preferred to conduct meetings in his private executive dining room at his high-rise office building. The real estate, restaurant, oil, and timber magnate couldn’t go anywhere without being approached by business associates, wannabe business associates, the media, or critics.

Yet Ronin knew agreeing to TP’s parameters put the power in his hands. He suspected from their very first meeting that TP recorded their conversation. Since many of their discussions included what could be considered criminal activity, Ronin had configured a scrambling device he kept in his pocket whenever they held a meeting. If TP was aware of it, he hadn’t mentioned it. Ronin believed his business relationship with TP survived and thrived because Ronin looked after his own best interests first.

He took the elevator to the thirtieth floor and was met by a curvy brunette who proclaimed herself TP’s personal assistant. Funny how fast TP went through assistants; in ten years, Ronin hadn’t seen the same one twice.

And if Amery was impressed with his private elevator, she’d really be blown away by the one that led to TP’s office. A glass elevator on the inside of the building. Given how much she loved his rooftop garden, this three-story glass atrium, which had been designed to mimic a rain forest, would be right up her alley. Even when the snow flew and the temps dipped below freezing, it felt like the Amazon in here.

The assistant led him into the executive room where TP held court. He stood and held out his hand when Ronin approached.

“Ronin, I was glad you called. I’ve heard some interesting tidbits in the past few weeks that no one will confirm, but I know I’ll get the truth from you. Before we delve into that and the favor I need to ask you, care for a cocktail?”

“Sure. I’ll have whatever you’re having.”

TP beckoned his personal assistant closer. “Bambi, be a dear and fix us a drink. Chivas and water.”

“Right away, Mr. Pettigrew.” She stepped to a well-stocked bar, mixed the drinks, and had them on the table almost before Ronin took a seat.

“Is there anything else, sir?”

TP shook his head and blew a big puff of cigar smoke in her face.

She didn’t even blink or cough before she tottered out of the room.

“Bambi?” Ronin repeated. “Is that her real name?”

“The guy at the strip club who lent her to me for a few weeks swears it is.”

Don’t ask.

“So what’s this I hear about you getting the fuck beat outta you in the cage?”

“Which time are you referring to?”

TP’s shaggy gray eyebrows rose. “Jesus, Black. It happened more than once? What? You getting soft or something?”

“Just old and stupid. I filled in for a fighter, and my brain forgot to remind my body that I’m thirty-eight, not twenty-eight.”

“Don’t you train every goddamn day so you’re ready to fight anytime, anyplace?”

“Yes. But like in the business world, theory and practice aren’t always copacetic.” Ronin shrugged. “Still hurts like a motherfucker to get knocked out. That aspect hasn’t changed. The recovery time is longer too as I’ve aged.”

“So the rumors aren’t true? You weren’t a last-minute add-on as a dare?”

“No. My only pro-level fighter backed out of a scheduled bout. It was a rare foray into official fight promotion for us, and rather than lose more money, I fought.” He grinned. “Ended up getting my ass handed to me—at least during the fight.”

“No one else would be grinning about that, Ronin.”

“Yet you are.”

“Yep.” TP grinned widely. “Like you, I hate bein’ predictable. Pays to keep people guessing.”

“And it always pays well for you.”