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Chapter Twenty-Three
After spending all day in bed with my best friend, eating too much ice cream and watching old Jackass episodes until our sides hurt, I finally felt ready to see Reed. It had only been twenty-four hours since I’d left Whitestone, but my body ached to be close to him.
I had needed time to think, and, frankly, who could think with that beautiful man around?
But I’d processed all I could for now, and I missed him something fierce. I’d been spoiled spending so much time with the man, and now that we’d spent the night together, something about my empty bed just didn’t feel right anymore.
I needed him. Especially now. Especially with what we were dealing with.
So, just after eight o’clock on Saturday night, when Greer left for work, I called him.
“Rylan?” he said after the second ring.
“Hi.”
“Hi.” He breathed the word, his voice full of relief. “Are you okay?”
“Come pick me up?”
“On my way.”
An hour later, I was settled into the passenger seat of the Bugatti, breathing him in and watching him navigate the streets of New York.
“Where are we going?” he asked me at a stoplight.
“Your place.”
He side-eyed me, then nodded.
“Not Grams’.”
He gave a curt nod and eased the car forward, driving slower and more cautiously than his usual reckless self.
I leaned my head back and closed my eyes.
“Are you okay?”
“I am now.”
His intake of breath was audible, then he turned on the radio and a low, deep bass filled the car. Provocative, sexy music like I’d heard in the Rabbit Hole so many times before. It shook the seat and brought my blood to life, my veins thrumming with the rhythm. A little while later, we pulled into a gated and guarded parking garage beneath a highrise on the Upper East Side.
Just as I suspected.
I looked over at him, smiling to myself.
“What?”
I shrugged. “Nothing.”
“Come.” He climbed out of the car and hurried to my side, then opened the door and extended his hand to help me out.
When we walked into the lobby, the doorman did a double take, looking at me with wide eyes. “Mr. Reed, good evening. And, um… Miss…?”
“Blake. Rylan Blake.” I shook the man’s hand, then stood beside Reed as we waited for the elevator.
By the time we’d nearly reached the top floor, I couldn’t hold it in any longer. “He seemed really surprised to see me.”
Reed remained stoic, giving me nothing in his expression.
“If you’re uncomfortable having me here, we can leave–”
He swiveled toward me quickly, then pressed the emergency stop button. His eyes searched mine, then his lips quirked up to one side. “I’ve wanted to do that since the day we met.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Stop the elevator?”
He nodded slowly, not taking his eyes from mine.
“And then what happens?”
“Well, that first day, I imagined very creative ways to shut you up.” He reached up and ran his thumb across my bottom lip. “You really do have quite the mouth on you.”
I licked my lips, pulling the bottom one into my teeth, then said, “I believe I had a similar idea about how to get rid of that cocky smirk.”
Reed’s eyebrows rose. “Since that day,” he continued, his gaze growing darker as he held me in his stare, “I’ve imagined fucking you in the elevator of Reed Tower a million different ways.”
I sucked in a breath. “And now?”
He frowned. “Well, as much as I’d like to give the security team the shock of their lives… in reality…” He looked up at the cameras. “I don’t feel like the timing is all that great. With what’s going on…”
I nodded. “Good point.”
He hit the button again and the elevator finished its ascent, opening up to the penthouse.
“Of course it’s the penthouse.”
He made an annoyed noise. “Are you going to comment on the decor here, too?”
“Is it also traumatizing?” I looked around as we stepped inside, taking it all in. The decor matched the master bedroom at his grandmother’s house, all sleek and modern. Dark walls with slate and hardwood accents, and then, in complete juxtaposition, fluffy white pillows sat atop cognac leather sofas.
I turned to face him and unzipped my hoodie, then let it fall to the floor.
Reed’s face went slack.
Rolling my lips to keep from smiling, I pushed my sweatpants off and stepped out of them.
I’d worn the emerald green bustier and matching panties for him, and the look in his eyes confirmed that I’d made the right choice.
“Now…” I looked around the living room, then met his gaze again. “Do you have a Red Room of Pain, or is that only in fiction?”
He laughed loudly and the sound echoed through the space, warming my veins, but then he quieted, and as he stalked toward me, my body vibrated with desire. The look in his eyes was predatory.
He stopped in front of me, squaring his shoulders and looking down his nose at me.
I shuddered, instantly aroused as soon as this version of Cabot Reed showed up.
“Kneel.”
Yes, Master. I quickly lowered to my knees, looking up at him.
“We’ll have to work on that.”
I frowned. Was I kneeling wrong? Was there even a wrong way to kneel?
The question disappeared into thin air when he unzipped his jeans.
My pulse sped. My mouth watered.
He pushed his jeans down and stepped out of them, then wrapped his strong hand around his shaft. He gave it a few slow strokes, then circled me.
I licked my lips in greedy anticipation.
When he stopped in front of me again, he let go, then crooked one finger at me.
I rose and took him in my hands, then ran my tongue in a circle around the tip of his cock. My eyes nearly fluttered closed as his precum hit my tongue.
I slipped my mouth over the end and took him, leaning forward as far as I could before pulling back out.
Reed moaned as I repeated the motion, sliding his hands into my hair to guide my mouth up and down the length of his cock. When I reached his head, I sucked, then circled him with my tongue, and when I moved to bring my mouth back down the length of him, his fingers flexed on my head and I looked up at him.
His eyes were dark, heavily-lidded and full of lust.
I pulled back and licked my lips, then whispered, “Tell me what you want, and it’s yours.”
He groaned and closed his eyes on a long blink. When he opened them again, there was a new fire in those black pools.“Stand up.”
I did so quickly.
He wrapped his hand around the base of my neck and hauled me toward him, crashing his mouth against mine and kissing me hungrily. He thrashed me with his tongue until I was moaning and panting into the kiss, then he pulled me back with just that hand on my neck.
“You,” he growled. “I want you.”
I tried to lunge for his mouth again, but he held me still, immobilized by just that firm hand on the back of my neck.
“Marry me.”
I sucked in a gasp. “What?”
