Man Feast (Bergen Brothers Book 2) Page 8

  “Did Abby mention anything strange to you today?” he asked before he could stop himself.

  She hummed against him, a cross between a sigh and a chuckle. “Are you talking about the antithesis of the man fast, otherwise known as the man feast?”

  He rested his chin on the crown of her head. “Your cousin and my brother really missed the mark on that. It’s a crazy idea.”

  “So crazy,” she replied.

  “We’re totally wrong for each other,” he added.

  She tightened her grip on his hand. “You’re all bank statements and boardrooms.”

  He rubbed tiny circles against the small of her back. “And you’re a fly by the seat of her pants irresponsible quasi-celebrity.”

  She glanced up at him through her eyelashes. “Quasi?”

  He bit back a laugh. “Okay, I’ll give you B-list celebrity.”

  He expected her to throw an insult or a pithy comeback at him, but Elle’s expression grew pensive.

  “Abby and Brennen might be crazy, but they’re not wrong. At least, in my case, it’s been a while.”

  “A while for me, too,” he confided.

  She chewed her lip. “If anything were to happen, and I’m not saying anything would. It would mean absolutely nothing.”

  “We’re just two people trapped in a cabin,” he said, the desire to kiss her growing fiercer by the second.

  Her hand glided from where it rested on his shoulder, and she twisted her fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. “It’s biology.”

  He surrendered to her touch. “Simply the result of an adrenaline rush from almost being eaten by a bear.”

  “Bears, plural,” she added, nodding her head as if they were building a case.

  “Right, and a very, very long dry spell when it comes to…” He paused.

  She nodded. “The driest. Like a desert. And I should know. I’ve been to the Sahara Desert, the Great Victoria Desert in Australia, and the Patagonia Desert in Chili. Did you know the Great Basin Desert is the largest desert in the States? It’s one hundred and ninety thousand square miles. It borders the Rocky Mountains to the east. You may already know that since you own a good portion of Colorado.”

  He could listen to Elle Reynolds ramble all night, but his body had other plans.

  “Eleanor,” he said, breaking into her desert dissertation.

  “Yes?” she breathed.

  He cupped her cheek and brushed his thumb across her perfectly kissable lips. “Stop talking.”

  She held his gaze, eyes wide. “Okay.”

  He leaned in, and she pushed up onto her tiptoes. Her body slid against his, sending a jolt of lust straight through him, and stripped away any last threads of resistance. His lips crashed against hers as the smooth burn of tequila and the sweet bite of the chocolate mingled with her warm breath. It cast a spell, peeling away the layers of the uptight CEO and exposing the man hidden beneath the mask.

  She sighed, and her lips parted, making way for their tongues to meet in a heated, frenzied rhythm. In a matter of seconds, this kiss had gone from zero to sixty. Gasping and hands twisting and pulling at their clothes, he guided her down onto the rug in front of the blazing fire. Initially, he’d hated these rugs. Shaggy and fluffy-white, the faux fur décor screamed gaudy Colorado wannabe.

  Now, he planned on penning a personal note of thanks to the interior designer.

  Elle lifted her shirt over her head and reclined back onto the rug. Her chestnut hair fell around her in gentle waves, and his heart nearly stopped beating. He’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

  He ran his index finger from the tip of her chin, down her neck, and she arched into him as he worked his way past her sternum. He rested his finger on the lacy bra’s clasp and took in the beauty that lay before him.

  “Need any help with that?” she asked with a sexy smile.

  He gave her his trademark smirk and undid the clasp with one flick of his hand.

  She pushed up onto her elbows and gestured with her chin toward the table next to them. “Get the tequila.”

  He reached over and got the bottle. “Are you thirsty?”

  She took the tequila from him, bit down on her bottom lip, and shook her head. “Nope, but I think you’re going to be.”

  She tilted the bottle, sending a thin stream of the liquid between her breasts.

  He’d never been thirstier a day in his life.

  In the space of a breath, he had her on her back. He licked and sucked the spirits from her skin. Warm and sharp, the sensations rocketed through him as he massaged her breasts and skimmed his tongue over her tight peak.

  “I think you’ve ruined tequila for me,” he said against her skin.

  “It’s not top-shelf.” She moaned, threading her fingers into his hair as he licked up every drop.

  “This kicks top-shelf’s ass any day.”

  He slid his hand up her body and pressed his thumb to her lips. She opened her mouth and grazed her teeth across the pad, then bit down harder. Pain and pleasure weaved together in a fiery tapestry of lust and carnal need, and a sweet rush of desire washed over him.

  He released her breast and gazed up at her. “What was that bite for?”

  She pressed a kiss to where she’d just sunk her teeth. “I wanted to remind you that I’m not sweet.”

  His cock twitched. “Good, because I don’t like sweet.”

  She cupped her breast and massaged herself. “What do you like?”

  He prowled her body. “Whatever the hell you are.”

  Her sexy smile returned. “I think you need to fuck me, Jasper Bergen.”

  “I think you’re absolutely right, Eleanor Reynolds.”

  He pulled his shirt over his head then went to work, stripping off her long underwear and losing his track pants.

  “Wow,” she said, gaze locked on his chest.

  He glanced down at himself. “What?”

  She ran her fingertips across the hard plane of his abdomen. “You. This body. Who knew all this was hidden beneath those stuffy suits?”

  “So, I won’t hear you complaining about the rigidity of my exercise regimen?”

  She held his gaze, and with her other hand, mimicked locking her lips shut with a key.

  “Before you lose the key, we need to talk about protection.”

  She ran her finger down his jawline. “I’m clean and on the pill. Are you—”

  “Clean as a whistle,” he supplied, a little too eagerly. He was probably cleaner than a whistle for how long it had been.

  “Of course, you are. I bet you’ve got your latest test results saved on your phone.”

  What the hell was wrong with that?

  His expression must have said exactly what he was thinking because she chuckled and shook her head. But she wasn’t laughing at him. The opposite.

  “Nothing wrong with being a safety-man,” she said with a grin.

  “Safety-man,” he echoed, taking her earlobe between his teeth. “That sounds like some kind of superhero. Do I get to wear a cape?”

  She glanced between them and gripped his cock. “No, you don’t need a cape. This sword will do just fine.”

  Sweet Christ!

  She caressed him in long, rhythmic strokes as he slid his hand between her thighs. His index finger teased her entrance, slick with desire, and she bucked her hips. He rubbed his thumb over her sensitive bundle of nerves, tracing tiny circles. Elle gasped, riding his hand, but he needed more. He needed to feel her, fill her. Slide inside and experience the grip of her wet heat.

  He wrapped his hand around her hand. She stilled and gazed up at him.

  “Are you sure you want this? Are you sure it’s okay?” he asked.

  She watched him, and it was as if she could see into his soul. Then she reclined back onto the rug and lifted her hands above her head.

  “Save me, Safetyman,” she said in one hell of a mock damsel in distress voice.

  He positioned himself at her en
trance, his body begging to thrust inside. “I’m going to save you all night long.”

  “Good, because I could use a lot of saving,” she purred.

  That was all the consent he needed. He pinned her wrists above her head, putting her perfect breasts on display, and pushed his hard length past her delicate folds. Inch by inch, he spread her open and filled her completely.

  All he wanted to do was fuck her hard like an animal, his body so ready, but he held back and met her gaze. “Are you okay, Elle? Am I hurting you?”

  She rolled her hips. “You might kill me if you don’t start moving.”

  A wolfish grin pulled at the corner of his mouth. “We can’t have you dying on a Bergen property.”

  “Then you better get to work. I expect the same focus here as you’d give to a spreadsheet in your office.”

  “Eleanor Reynolds, you are going to get the full CEO treatment.”

  She laced her fingers with his. “I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

  He pulled back then thrust forward, setting a demanding pace. A sheen of sweat covered their bodies as he worked her, pumping and grinding. Elle writhed beneath him and met him blow for blow, thrust for thrust.

  He’d been with other women. He was no virginal lightweight when it came to the bedroom, but no woman had ever gotten his pulse racing like Elle Reynolds. The slap of their bodies coming together. The slide of his thighs against hers. Their hot, tangled breaths, meeting in scorching kisses. It was almost too much.

  He pulled back and met her gaze.

  She smiled up at him, her eyes telling him everything. Telling him that she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

  She raised a hand and cupped his cheek. “Don’t hold back, Jasper,” she whispered.

  Lost in her eyes, he complied. He emptied every ounce of his stoic, stony demeanor and allowed passion and lust to course through his veins. He gripped her ass, changing the angle of penetration and thrust deeper as the friction built between them.

  “Yes!” Elle called out, her nails scraping across his shoulders.

  Their bodies moved together like a well-oiled machine. Pistons firing. Gears churning. She tightened around him and called out, meeting her release. He doubled his pace, and his sweat-slick body prolonged her bliss, milking every drop of her pleasure until he couldn’t hold back. With a primal growl, he pumped his hips and tightened his grip on her ass, owning her, coveting her, claiming her. He flew over the edge, falling, spiraling.

  Letting himself go.

  Letting Elle in.

  After what could have been three minutes or three hundred years, she blinked her eyes open and gave him a sweet, sated smile. “That was…”

  He brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. “Did I render the writer speechless?”

  She sighed. “Oh, you rendered. You rendered big-time.”

  They stared at each other as a salsa beat serenaded them from the little radio.

  He moved his hips from side to side in time with the beat.

  “You remembered the quick, quick, slow,” she said, matching the movement.

  He kissed her neck. “I can promise you this, Eleanor. We’re just getting started, and nothing about what I plan on doing to your body for the rest of the night is going to be quick.”

  6

  Elle

  Elle sighed as a sleeping Jasper tightened his grip on her hip. She nestled her head into the crook of his neck, shying away from the bright Colorado sunshine streaming in through the window and ran her index finger down the length of his torso. A naughty grin pulled at the corners of her mouth. After last night, if there was one thing she knew for sure about Jasper Bergen, it was that the man was true to his word.

  There was nothing quick about the way he feasted on her body. There was nothing speedy about how he bent her over the back of the couch and took her from behind. Nothing hasty or hurried as she rode his cock, staring into his eyes, losing herself in his embrace.

  And that ache. That sweet, deep ache between her thighs. She’d forgotten that well-fucked feeling. That place where your limbs hung loose and relaxed and your mind emptied of all its worries.

  The last time she’d felt this way, she was with Tate. She tensed as guilt and shame overran the space in her head where peace and contentment had dwelled.

  “Hey,” came a low, gravelly voice.

  Jasper.

  “Hey,” she echoed.

  He ran his hand down her back. “How long have you been awake?”

  She swallowed hard and pushed the thoughts of her past back into the dark corners of her mind.

  “Not long.”

  He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “Are you hungry?”

  She traced the V of his muscular torso. “A little, but I think we’re out of food. You ate the last Oreo off my body somewhere between the couch sex and the chair sex.”

  He cupped her cheek. “That was one damned good…cookie.”

  She gasped in mock disbelief. “Is that your most poignant memory from last night? Eating Oreos?”

  The dirtiest grin spread across his face, and she sighed. Artists should paint this man. Sculptors should carve him out of marble. No longer clean shaven, Jasper Bergen with a little stubble was the definition of sexy on a stick.

  He rolled her body away from him and pressed his chest into her back. His hard length rubbed against her ass as heat pooled between her thighs, and her nipples formed tight peaks. He eased himself inside her, and her body welcomed the sweet penetration.

  He kissed her neck. “Doing this is my most poignant memory.”

  Was it ever! She thought of her sad little vibrator. How was she supposed to go back to that?

  Jasper reached around and found her sensitive bundle of nerves, and she forgot all about her pathetic dildo when he cupped her sex. He worked her body in rhythmic strokes as he made love to her from behind. Sweet and slow, their bodies fused. His hard, sculpted angles met her soft curves, melting together, moving as one. There was no learning his body. There was no awkward fumbling. They connected seamlessly, easily, naturally, as if they were made for each other.

  Throughout the night, when they weren’t tangled in the throes of passion, they’d talked and laughed. She even tried to teach him how to tango, but that ended in the chair sex, which she’d decided was the best way to end a dance lesson.

  It was easy to be with this Jasper. The Jasper who wasn’t solely focused on carrying the weight of Bergen Enterprises on his shoulders. But she was different, too. She’d let down her guard. She hadn’t been in a relationship with anyone since Tate. She’d tried to meet men, tried dating, but nothing clicked. Nobody had come close to scaling the walls she’d erected around her heart until this stoic, stodgy CEO pushed all her buttons, and what she thought was searing hatred toward the man might just be…

  No, she couldn’t go there.

  She rolled her hips and arched her back. Closing her eyes, she pushed away thoughts of what if and focused on the present moment, on Jasper’s heated breath, warm against the shell of her ear. She reveled in the flex and release of his abdominal muscles, pressing against her as he thrust. And his cock. His glorious shaft. It fit her perfectly, finding that place deep within her that made her come with an intensity like nothing she’d ever known.

  Jasper dialed up his pace, and she was no longer capable of coherent thought. He growled, and the gruff moan blanketed her in goose bumps. The sound, so primal, so sensual, it set her on fire. Like a bow pulled tight, quivering and begging for release, she reached back and weaved her fingers into his hair, anchoring herself to this man before she exploded into a million tiny pieces.

  “Eleanor,” he breathed, the word no longer reminding her of that pruny aunt. No, his low grumble infused those three syllables with sex and sweat and a yearning so deep it pierced her soul.

  “Yes?” she answered.

  He pressed his thumb against her swollen bud. “Tell me you want this.”

  She didn’t think it could
get any hotter until he busted out the dirty talk.

  “I want it. I want it so badly,” she answered.

  “You won’t be able to come again without fantasizing about my cock inside you.”

  He wasn’t wrong.

  His scent. His touch. His low, commanding words. He was everywhere. Making love to her. Holding her. Kissing her. Owning her. Worshiping her.

  He pulled back, and with his next thrust, she flew over the edge. Weightless and lost in a place where only she and Jasper Bergen existed. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over her body as she tensed around his cock. He joined her, their bodies writhing, demanding more, begging for the rush to never end.

  He wrapped his arms around her as their breathing slowed.

  “Who would have thought?” he whispered.

  She stroked his cheek. “Thought what?”

  “This,” he said, still buried deep inside her.

  He was right. This was a lot more than what she’d bargained for when they talked themselves into Brennen and Abby’s silly man feast.

  And what exactly was this? She turned toward him, and he eased out of her. She kissed his cheek and smiled against the scrape of his beard. Barely twenty-four hours ago, she’d only known the clean-shaven dickhead version of Jasper Bergen.

  Boy, what a difference a day makes.

  She liked him like this, a little rough around the edges. She wanted to tell him that, but before she could get a single word out, he pressed his finger to her lips.

  “Do you hear that?” he asked.

  She stilled. “It’s a snowmobile.”

  Jasper reached for his coat and pulled out his phone. “Shit!”

  “What?”

  “Brennen texted me about twenty minutes ago. He and Abby are coming up to check on us.”

  “Double shit!” she whisper-shouted, jumping up and surveying the state of the cabin.

  Chairs turned over. Pillows and cookie crumbs littering every flat surface. A half-empty bottle of tequila propped against the wall.

  “It looks like a cross between a frat house and a sex den in here,” she said, grimacing at the sight of the cabin in the light of day.