9. Wren

As I drifted into consciousness, I stretched an arm out, searching. Unlike all night long, though, my hand didn’t hit Tom’s warm body. My stomach sank when all I found was a cold sheet. We hadn’t discussed what this was, but I hadn’t thought he’d disappear in the middle of the night. Not after his comment about sleeping in his arms since his dick had been inside me.

I sat up, pulling the white sheet with me, and scanned the room.

“No. Two o’clock? Perfect.” Tom passed the open door. His attention caught on me, and the corner of his mouth tipped up into the almost smile that I’d seen hundreds of times over my life. “I got to go. Thanks, man.”

He sauntered through the door, already dressed in jeans and a sweater, and tossed his phone carelessly onto the bed.

“Morning, baby girl.”

The growl of the endearment flooded through me, causing all my uncertainty to flee. I might have hated the baby girl the first time he said it, but the emotion in his tone every time those two words rumbled from between his lips made my stomach flip.

Dark hair messy, he crawled his way up the mattress, then cupped my cheek with one rough hand and pulled me down to meet his lips .

My heart skipped when he pulled back slightly and rested his forehead against mine.

“You’re up early,” I mumbled.

“I wanted to get a NYBoys Taylor ham flagel thing for you.”

My heart stumbled. He did not go out and track down my favorite breakfast sandwich in all of New York.

“No way,” I whispered.

That almost smile lifted his lips. “Yes way. I know how obsessed you are with them. You’ve even gotten my daughter hooked and begging me to bring them back for her every time I’m here.”

“You always bring them back for both of us.” The gesture was one I had always written off. Now, though, it seemed like a bigger deal.

He dropped a hand to my neck, letting his fingers skate along the curve and causing goose bumps to pepper my skin. “I only got one today.”

His words burst through my chest. It was silly. He probably hadn’t even told Avery he was coming to New York, so I shouldn’t read into it. Honestly, though, it was impossible not to.

“And you’re lucky they were open. I wasn’t sure they would be.”

Grinning, I clutched the front of his sweater. “How ever shall I thank you?”

He chuckled darkly, his warm breath sending the hair at my temples flying. “I can think of a few ideas.” He shifted to lie next to me, and I snuggled into the crook of his arm, resting my head against his hard chest. “Since our flight was canceled?—”

“What?” I snapped up. Canceled? The airlines were going to be slammed. I pushed at the blankets, ready to get my phone and make calls, but he held me in place with one large hand.

“New York is blanketed in a good ten inches of snow.” He tipped his head toward the window.

I followed his line of sight and squirmed in his hold. “Shit. We have to reschedule the flights.”

Without releasing me, he shook his head. “Already tried. Nothing is going out today and everything is booked for tomorrow.”

“Fuck.” Holding my breath, I inspected the room, my mind racing .

I was in charge of the auction tomorrow night. Not being there wasn’t an option, and I had a ton of setting up to do before it. I’d have to make sure the online auction was locked in and have it run a firewall check, then make sure the caterer was set and the bartender had the right wines.

Tom tightened his hold on my thigh. “Wren.” His deep voice echoed through the chaos in my mind. “I know you have to be home. I already called and rented a car. The rental company is dropping it off out front at two. I’ll drive back to Boston.”

“You…” I blinked, shocked that he knew my schedule and that he’d already taken care of arrangements, when that was my responsibility.

“While we were at the MET, you mentioned running the auction on Sunday night.”

My breath caught. I might have said it, but not to him. Had he really paid that much attention to my small talk? I swallowed past the lump that had formed in my throat. I didn’t know what was going on between us, but I did know it couldn’t last.

I picked at a piece of fuzz on the sheet, attention downcast. “Fixing issues is my job.”

A growl rumbled up his throat. “I take care of what’s mine.”

My heart stumbled over itself. “Yours?” No, I couldn’t be. Not really. We’d have to keep this a secret.

He gently gripped my chin and forced me to look at him. His jaw was set in a firm line. “You. Are. Mine.”

The declaration flipped my stomach. After last night, it was hard to argue with the statement. I really did feel like his. Like there was no possible way to walk away from him.

I assessed him, working to decipher the emotion swimming in his fierce blue eyes. “What would Avery say?” I whispered. My best friend had been clear about her feelings. She did not want me hooking up with her father. Guilt swamped me, making it hard to breathe. Maybe I should have walked away last night. Maybe I should have told him I wanted him to stop. Yet I was almost certain I couldn’t have found those words anywhere in my soul. I craved Tom Wilson .

His nostrils flared, and uncertainty flashed in his eyes. He knew his daughter wouldn’t be happy if she discovered that we’d slept together.

My father would be even less so. Tom and Dad weren’t as close as Avery and I were, but they’d known each other for decades. There wasn’t a world where I could really be his.

Forcing a deep breath into my lungs, I donned the sassy mask I’d gotten so good at wearing over the years. “Guess you only get me in New York. In Boston, I belong to someone else.” I batted my lashes.

He growled, and before I could tease him further, he yanked me onto his lap and smacked my bare ass. Sharp tingles danced along my skin, and when he rubbed at the spot, my core throbbed.

“Do not sass me when you’re naked in my bed.”

Once again, my heart skipped, and warm desire erupted inside me.

“Yes, Daddy Wilson.”

That earned me another smack. This time I couldn’t stop the whimper that left my lips.

“You have no idea what those words do to me,” he rasped, burying his face in my hair.

“Then show me.”

He clutched me tight and rocked my hips against his, my sensitive skin grazing the coarse fabric of his jeans.

“Are you ready to thank me now, baby girl?”

Wetting my lips, I shifted and tugged on the hem of his sweater. As it drifted to the floor, I pressed my mouth into the warm, smooth skin of his chest. The man had a body that defied his age, with bulging biceps and solid shoulders. Every swell of muscle turned me on. With a groan, I kissed my way down his eight-pack of abs, then helped him remove his jeans.

As I tugged at the waistband, he lifted his hips, and his cock sprang free.

“No underwear, Mr. Uptight?” I teased.

He grabbed my hair, forcing me to look at him. “It seemed like a waste of time when I planned to spend the next four hours inside some part of your body.” He raised a brow. “Are you up for the challenge?”

I licked my lips. I loved nothing more than a challenge. “Always.” Smirking, I turned my attention back to his dick. With my thumb, I traced the vein that ran up the length of it, relishing his thickness and the smoothness of his skin.

His legs tightened under me. “I’ve dreamed of your lips around me so long.” He groaned. “Make it happen, baby girl. I need to watch you swallow my cock.”

Obediently, I lowered and circled his wide tip with my tongue.

His responding groan spurred me on, and with a deep inhale, I wrapped my lips around him and slowly pulled him deep into my mouth. By no means was Tom small, and halfway down his length, I was already tense.

“Relax.” He gripped a handful of my hair, stopping me from taking more of his cock. The bite of pain as he tugged only added to the desperate need swirling through me.

I teased the tight pull of skin just under the tip with my tongue, and his hips shot off the bed, forcing his cock deeper into my mouth.

“Fuck.” He snapped his hips again, and I relaxed against the feel of him.

Eyes watering, I worked to take him deeper. Before I could make much progress, though, he yanked on my hair, pulling me back.

“Spin,” he demanded, his eyes wild, his pupil fully blown. “I want you to come on my face while I fuck your mouth.”

I shifted, and with a firm grip on my hips, he pulled me around until I was straddling his shoulders.

“Scoot back, baby. Smother me with this perfect cunt.”

The dirty words had me shivering and desperate. When I didn’t move quickly enough, he smacked my thigh, sending another wave of desire through me.

“Give me that pussy now,” he growled. I shifted back, settling my legs on either side of his head. “Look at you,” he said, his hot breath brushing over my sensitive skin, “already glistening like a good girl for me.”

Shit, I loved his dirty talk. Each word echoed through me, making my body throb.

“Please.” I whimpered, pressing my pussy against his mouth. I was torn between wanting him to keep talking and wanting his tongue lapping against me.

“When you’re choking on my cock, I promise I will give you exactly what you need.” The vibration of his words had me rocking my hips.

“Wrap those lips around me, baby girl, and I’ll take care of you.”

Tilting forward, I grasped his length and squeezed, eliciting a groan from him. I dropped my head and took him deep.

His pelvis shot up, and I gagged as he hit the back of my throat. “That’s it. Take my cock like a good fucking girl.”

When his mouth made contact with my center, I moaned around him. He lapped against me, swirling his tongue around my clit, and I shuddered. Fuck, he was good at this. Almost programmed to know exactly what I needed. I ground against his face, and when he slipped a finger inside me, pleasure rippled up my spine. Just like last night, I was putty in his well-trained hands.

“See how good I make it for you?”

God, yes. And I wanted it to be that way to him. So as he worked me over, I toyed with him, sucking, teasing, lapping up his length, and then pulling him deep into my throat. I wasn’t sure what was turning me on more, his mouth on me or his cock down my throat. I never wanted either to end.

My legs were quivering, shaking. I was so close. Between the way he worked his fingers into me and his tongue lapping against me, my head spun. I wanted more.

I pressed back into him.

“Yes, smother me, baby.” The words were muffled against my body.

I ran my teeth up his length and tugged on his balls.

Beneath me, he shuddered. “Fuck,” he groaned. “Do that again.”

The second time, his legs shook, and he pumped into my mouth with more force, never stopping the motion of his tongue against me. We were reckless and crazed as we worked each other over. Though my stomach tightened, I tried to hold back, to wait for him so we could come together. But it was no use. Pleasure shot through me, dragging me under. As he sucked hard on my clit, I was lost to sensation. I couldn’t stop the ocean that swamped me. I convulsed against his tongue as he worked me through my orgasm.

“Damn, you’re sexy when you’re coming on my tongue. I could do this all day.”

His voice pulled me back from the wave. I wanted to give him as much pleasure as he’d just given me, so I focused my efforts again, sucking him in deeply, then lightly pulling back and toying with the tip.

“I love your mouth. Just like that,” he praised.

I dragged my hand lower and gave one more tug on his balls before I moved on, sliding between his ass cheeks and slipping a fingertip between. With a hint of pressure, I eased past the ring of muscle and pressed upward.

“Holy fuck.” He bucked hard against me. “I’m coming. Shit. I’m coming.”

I worked him through his release, drinking it all down without letting up the pressure on his ass.

Eventually, his massive thighs relaxed against the bed and he heaved out a deep breath. Panting, he reached down and pulled be up next to him. He tucked me against his chest and kissed the crown of my head.

“I don’t even know what that was. Holy shit. Wren. You’re amazing.”

I peeked up at him. “And you’re smiling.”

A chuckle vibrated through him. “That’s the kind of effect you have on me.”

The words made my heart flutter, but as badly as I wanted to wrap them up and hold them close, I knew better. This wasn’t forever. This was fun, nothing more. “Hopefully your cheeks won’t cramp.”

With a roll of his blue eyes, he relaxed against the pillow. Beneath me, his heart pounded, tempting me to press a kiss to the hard muscle over it. I gave myself one minute to enjoy what would be the last time I would lie next to this man, then I pushed to my feet.

“Where the hell are you going?” he grumbled.

I smirked over my shoulder. “Someone teased me with my favorite breakfast, and I intend to enjoy it. ”

He peeked one eye open. “Naked?”

“Clothes are overrated. When I’m at home, I spend most of my time this way.” With that, I skipped out of the room.

His groan followed me out into the living area. “You’re going to kill me, baby girl.”

While I ate, he sauntered out in his boxers, tossed his T-shirt to me, and set to work making coffee. When I mentioned how surprised I was that I didn’t have to remind him about the extra milk or sugar, he joked about me having dated too many boys.

He was right. After just a few hours with Tom, it was easy to see the difference. He was setting a bar I wasn’t sure any other man could live up to.

Since we had a few hours to kill, I reached for the remote and found the Netflix app.

“What are you doing?”

“Putting on White Collar .” I quickly scrolled to the picture of Matt Bomer’s face.

“What?”

“It’s a show.” I raised my brow as I hit play, waiting for him to either complain about the noise or tell me that if I didn’t get moving, we’d be late.

To my surprise, he just eyed me with consideration, his brow furrowed. Had the man never heard of this show?

With my elbows on my knees, I tucked my hands under my chin and sent him a teasing smirk. “It’s the thing that plays on the television, you know, other than news or sports. It’s make-believe, with actors.”

Shoulders dropping, he let out an exasperated huff. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”

“You’re wrong about that, old man.”

He cocked a brow. And damn, he was sexy. I could tease him about being old, but he didn’t look it.

“What is White Collar ?”

“It’s a show about art thieves. You’ll love it,” I promised with a waggle of my brows.

Gaze narrowed, he assessed the screen. “Doubt it.” Even as the denial escaped him, he dropped onto the couch next to me and draped an arm over my shoulders.

“You’re going to adore Neil. He makes poor Peter nuts.”

“I think I might relate more to Peter.” Although the words were gruff once again, he was smiling.