Page 40 of Extended Bridge (Passionate Beats #2)

Chapter Twenty-Three

T he next thing I know, he’s picked me up and starts walking down the hallway. “Bennett, your pulled muscle.”

“Consider this another exercise.”

I don’t move for fear of disturbing his balance.

While romantic and fun, I worry about the damage he could do.

When we arrive at the elevators, I say, “Point proven, in a dramatic way, Rock Star. Please put me down.” When he doesn’t shift my weight in his arms, I add, “If you do, I’ll give you a blowjob in the shower.

” My feet can’t hit the floor fast enough.

Fifteen minutes later, I make good on the incentive.

After all, he did turn down a quadsome —is that a thing?

—to be with me. Water pelting us, I use my hand to bring him to his full erection while kissing down his ripped chest until I reach my goal.

My tongue swirls around the tip as his stance widens.

“You’re driving me out of my mind,” his gruff voice sails above me.

He pops out of my mouth. “Then I must be doing it right.”

I return to teasing him for a moment until he growls and puts his hand on the back of my head.

He doesn’t push, yet simply adds a bit of pressure and encourages me to take him deeper.

Which I do. His hips buck, and the expected guidance from his hand plays in tandem.

My own fingers gently play with his balls, eliciting a deep groan from him.

“I know you said you’d give me a blowjob, and you’re doing amazing. But I want to be inside you.” He steps back. “Now.”

Who am I to deny him this wish? With a final lick, I let his dick fall from my mouth and rise to my full height.

“Don’t move.” In a flash, he’s out of the shower, opens a couple of drawers and holds up a condom, putting it on before he’s back with me. “Now, let’s see how wet you are for me.” I have only a second to open my legs when his fingers enter my core. An approving smirk graces his face. “Very.”

He turns me toward the tile and the next thing I know he’s thrusting into my body.

The combination of the shower water plus his pounding into me, not to mention the way his hands squeeze my boobs, proves to be too much.

My toes curl into the tile floor as my orgasm overtakes me, clenching around him.

Not a second later, he roars above me as he climaxes.

The water sluices over our bodies, nearly steaming on contact. I shake my head. “How can this keep getting better?”

He kisses the center of my back. “Because it’s us.”

After we use the shower for its intended purpose, we eat a snack from room service.

A couple of hours later, UC’s head of security, Elias, ushers us into our private stretch limo, complete with tinted windows, to take us to Graceland.

Elvis’s music plays while we cuddle in the backseat, Bennett’s arm around my shoulder.

I’ve never felt so protected. And adored.

I fidget with my skirt, playing with the hem that falls over my knees. For some reason, it seemed appropriate to wear it to “meet” the King. “Did I ever tell you my grandmother was Elvis’s biggest fan? She watched all of his movies and had all of his records. Vinyl.”

“The good old days.” He stretches his long legs, then places mine over his. “Was this your grandmother who had breast cancer? ”

I swallow. “Yes.”

He pulls my upper body closer, resting my head against his chest. “It’s wonderful you have so many happy memories with her.”

When he doesn’t continue, I force myself to ask, hoping for a positive response. “Do you remember any of your grandparents?”

“Both of them from my mother’s side passed before I was born.

I have a few recollections about my Dad’s side.

His father always had a twinkle in his eye and was a big radio guy, as in CBs and HAM stuff.

He died when I was eight. Dad’s mother liked to bake, but not cook.

So when we went to their house, we’d get homemade cookies and cakes with takeout. ”

“They sound fun.”

“They were.” He goes silent for a bit. “She died when I was thirteen. Luckily, she never knew her son got sick a couple of years later.”

My hand covers his heart next to my ear. “Thank you for sharing these happy memories.”

“Thanks for reminding me of them.” He kisses my forehead, and I snuggle closer to this man, who’s fancied himself a loner, yet is surrounded by so much love. To be fair, he has let my love into his heart. It’s time for more.

We pass a sign saying Graceland is ten miles away. I squeeze Bennett’s hand. “Is this really happening?”

He squeezes back. “Stick with me, kid. I promise to take you everywhere you want to go.” He chuckles “And places you didn’t know were on your list.”

Shortly, the limo slows as brake lights surround us. Even Bennett’s sway can’t make traffic disappear. I sigh, “Guess it’ll take us longer than ten minutes to get there.”

He repositions me on his lap, so my back is to his front. He teases, “Whatever shall we do to pass the time?”

“Rock Star,” I lean my head back onto his shoulder. “Behave.”

He kisses my neck, and I angle my head to give him better access. Into my ear, he breathes, “I promise to be as good as you deserve.” He punctuates his vow by biting my earlobe .

Since I’m sitting forward, I see the divider is up between us and the driver. The hard pounding beat of Hunte plays on the stereo. The windows are tinted. No one can see us—dare we? My breathing picks up.

One of Bennett’s hands skims across my chest and squishes my left breast. I’ve never had sex in a car before—never mind a moving one—yet my moan bounces off the walls. My legs fall open. Who is this woman? I consider this question for a split second and answer: a woman in love with her man.

Bennett doesn’t hesitate. His hand slides up my leg to the juncture of my thighs. A finger rubs over the lace covering my core, which already is weeping for him. “What do you want, Sweetheart?”

My torso rolls.

His finger slips under the lace and touches me, sending sparks shooting in all directions.

“Ah!”

Bennett’s hand withdraws. Before I can mourn its loss, his finger makes its way into my mouth and I suck my juices. He repeats, “What do you want, Sweetheart?”

All my brain cells have scattered. I say the only word I can. “You.”

“Thank fuck.”

Beneath me, his torso tenses as he pulls his wallet out of his back pocket. He takes out a condom, hands it to me, then tosses the wallet onto the seat. He tenses again and the unmistakable zip of his jeans fills the air. “Commando was the right choice.”

“Seems like it.” I busy myself by opening the packet.

He plucks the condom from my fingers and tenses a third time while he rolls it on. With a deep, lusty tone, he says, “Are you ready?”

“My underwear . . .”

“Not a problem.” In one smooth move, my panties move to the side and he fills me to the brim.

“Oh. Oh!”

The fact we’re in a semi-moving vehicle is of no import. With the music on and the divider up, the driver can’t know what we’re doing. My head swivels and I don’t care people are in cars next to us, given the tinted windows. All that matters is I’m with the man I love.

His lips trail up my neck. Using his hand, he turns my face toward his and we kiss, tongues clashing. When we break apart, his hands go around my waist and he lifts me as if I weighed less than a feather.

Up.

Down.

My hands clamp around his wrists as my body moves. Around us, Hunte’s music builds. My nipples pebble inside my bra.

“I love how you respond to me.”

“I.” I pant. “Love.” I try to catch my breath, but fail. “You.”

The traffic snarl opens and the limo picks up speed. One of Bennett’s hands slips under my shirt and moves to my bra, then inside it. He kisses my neck at the same time he pinches my distended nipple. Excitement zings through my body. I clench around him.

“That’s it, Sweetheart. Let go.”

At his words, I fly free. “Bennett!”

The next second, he growls my name as he comes undone beneath me.

The limo passes through the famed musical gates.

I collapse onto his chest, which rises and falls in rapid succession. Like mine.

Bennett’s hands return to my waist, and he deposits me onto the seat next to him. He removes the spent condom and ties it closed while I will my fingers to right my skirt.

The driver stops in front of a stately, stone-faced mansion.

Bennett pulls his zipper up.

I peer out the window, my mouth forming the perfect “O,” even while my body feels boneless.

The vehicle’s door opens.

Smirking, Bennett motions for me to precede him.

I take the driver’s hand and step out of the limo, leaning on him a bit until I’m sure I can stand upright.

Behind me, Bennett steps onto the street.

Damn man looks as cool as if he were receiving an award.

Until I look closer and realize his cheeks are flushed.

My hand goes to my own cheeks, then bounce away from the heat. Guess that makes two of us.

A young woman, about twenty, wearing an Elvis T-shirt greets us. “Mr. Hardy, Miss Westfield, welcome to Graceland. I’m Elise, and I’ll be taking you around the estate.”

“Thank you,” I reply. Bennett merely bows his head in her direction.

With his arm around my shoulders, we follow her into the house and through the foyer. She asks us not to touch anything and leads us past the ropes to walk through the living room with its oversized furniture. Bennett whispers, “Imagine what we could do on this sofa.”

“Couldn’t be better than the limo.”

“Guess we’ll have to try it and decide.”

I giggle at his outrageous behavior. “I think we’ll have to try a different sofa, Rock Star.” I walk to the threshold of the music room, where two stained glass peacocks encourage creativity.

I study one. “This is so cool.”

Bennett gives me a cursory glance as his gaze fixates on the piano in the center of the room. The first piano Elvis ever bought. He walks up to it as if to suck in inspiration from the King himself.