Take Me to Bed: A Collection of Naughty Bedtime Stories

by Michelle Windsor

  Her lower lip, full and soft and perfect, fits right against the seam of my mouth, and there’s no way I’m resisting that temptation. I pull on the plump flesh, tasting her sweetness with a demanding roughness I wish I could contain. The sigh I get in response is worth it, though.

  And then my tongue finds hers.

  I’ve had a lot of first kisses in my life. Some awkward, some hot, some pretty sweet. None have been this right. None have left me with a profound need for more. Not want. Need.

  I need this woman.

  I want her, too, like nothing else.

  She’s just as eager for this as I am. When I hoist her up and onto the counter, her legs go around my hips. I lean forward, she tips her head back. I scrape my teeth against her jaw, the curve of her neck, and she tightens her thighs.

  So there’s no missing my cock, hot and hard and heavy, and now pressed right against her.

  Her breath catches, then she rolls her hips, tracing the length of my dick. A groan rips out of me when she rocks against the crown, and I squeeze her closer.

  “Do that again,” I demand as I tug the neck of her shirt down. My other hand slides beneath the soft cotton at the same time, finding her waist so I can help her along.

  She grinds against me and I pump my hips. I don’t give a fuck if it’s shameless. We fit together.

  Her bra is nice, but it’s in the way. Using my teeth, I drag the thankfully flexible fabric over the swell of her breast, freeing her nipple, and then I give her my mouth there, sucking and licking and consuming her while I work my cock against her clit until she cries out my name.

  I’m generally not a stupid man, and I’ve never left a woman unsatisfied. But I really just meant to kiss her.

  The fact that she’s winding up toward an orgasm takes me by surprise and makes me feel like a teenager again—but a teenager who knows what to do with a gorgeous woman in his arms.

  I replace my mouth with my fingers, rolling and tugging at her nipple as I find the other one with my tongue. Her breasts are fantastic and soft against my face, and I can’t get enough of the subtle scent of her skin. I tell her as much when I kiss my way back up her neck.

  “You’re so gorgeous.” I kiss her mouth when she tries to twist her head to side. “Look at me.”

  She blinks slowly, her eyelids heavy over lust-glazed eyes, and I growl under my breath before kissing her again. Yes, that look. I want to see that as she comes for me.

  I pull her hips harder against me as she begins to shake, and press my forehead against hers, claiming her gaze and her orgasm, too. “Are you going to come for me, Jana? Do you feel how hard you make me? How good it feels to have your legs around me? Come inside, she says. Now look at you, with your perfect tits spilling out of your top. So fucking sexy. Come on. Come for me. Rock against my cock. That’s all yours. You did that, now take it.”

  With a strangled cry, she seizes in my arms, and I fall into her, holding her against me as I kiss her, hard at first, deep and intensely, then softer as she tumbles down from that high.

  Together we fix her shirt, then she starts laughing, and I join her.

  I don’t let her go.

  “You still owe me a story,” I finally say.

  “I thought we were skipping that to make out.” She blushes. “Or whatever that was.”

  I groan. “That was you coming for me like an angel. Next time I want you naked.”

  She traces a finger up my chest and I nip at it when it nears my mouth. Undeterred, she taps it against my lips. “Isn’t it your turn next?”

  “Doesn’t need to be either/or. But first…tell me the rest of your story.”

  She rolls her eyes. “You don’t need me to explain, do you?”

  Not really. There are only so many cat toys one can have delivered before the delivery obviously becomes the point. “Maybe I want you to.”

  She gives me a long look. A searching look, like she’s wondering how much to reveal, and I’m a bit of an asshole because this isn’t really a two-way street when it comes to vulnerability. I’ve got secrets that would blow her adorable socks off. But on this point, she can trust me. And she finally nods, giving in. “Okay, so I might have told my friends that I thought you were kind of hot, and they took it upon themselves to make sure that you appeared here…often.” Her lips plump up and pull to the side, like she’s thinking about what she just said.

  I’ll make that worse for her, sure. Any excuse to make her squirm. I mock-frown. “Kind of hot?”

  Her eyes sparkle. “Well I didn’t know you own duck slippers. That would’ve tipped you over the top, for sure.”

  “They were never mine,” I growl, and her right eyebrow curves in a high, curious arch.

  “Oh…” She giggles like she gets it, they were a girl’s, and they weren’t. It doesn’t matter, because it was a lifetime ago, but I want her to know that. But before I can tell her they were part of my roommate’s costume for a rez party, she’s rubbing against me. “Too bad you don’t still have them.”

  “I’m not recreating the event for you.” Except if she wanted me to, I would. I’d wear nothing but ducky slippers and a raging hard-on, and I’d find her in the bathroom and steal her towel.

  “What if…” She glances to the side, and I follow her gaze. Her bedroom. “What if they were cat slippers?”

  9

  Jana

  I’m having a random afternoon hook-up with my delivery driver, and instead of climbing him like a tree or rubbing against him like a cat in heat—okay, I might have done, but then I stopped—and I suggested he put on my cat slippers.

  Even crazier is the look on his face, like he might just be into this. Slipper sex. Or…slipper foreplay. Do slippers count as lingerie? Guy lingerie?

  Maybe for a girl with three cats and a foster kitten.

  Because oh yeah, I want to see him in them.

  Nothing else, just slippers. And that erection I shamelessly rubbed one out against on my kitchen counter.

  I want that erection freed for both our pleasures. But I want him wearing the slippers, too.

  “Lead the way,” he says, a lazy, dirty smile curling up his face, and that makes me so happy I squeal a tiny bit as I take his hand and tug him toward my bedroom.

  We don’t get all the way there, because halfway down the hall he wraps his arms around my waist and presses his face into my neck. He shaved this morning, but there’s enough stubble on his jaw now to make me feel each kiss. I love that. I want to look at my skin in the mirror tomorrow and see where he imprinted on me.

  “Slippers can wait a minute,” he says roughly as he spins me around and presses me against the wall.

  “What—” I don’t get the rest of my question out before his mouth crashes into mine, hot and demanding. His hands find mine, inviting me to touch him. I trace the length of his erection through his uniform as he palms my butt, first through my clothes, then a rough slide of his palm into my pants.

  He’s groping me, flat-out. Can’t keep his hands off my butt, needs to touch me like whoa. Groping. Me.

  This definitely has to be a dream.

  “Your ass was just too inviting,” he whispers.

  “I’m not complaining,” I whisper back. “Grope all you want.”

  The way he mauls my boob next makes me blush, and then that possessive squeeze turns into something way slicker. Even when he’s overcome with lust, he’s got moves, this one. His thumb rolls my nipple in a way that tugs on my clit from the inside, and I thunk my head back against the wall.

  At this rate, we’re not getting to the slippers, and I’m entirely okay with that. Fuck me against the wall, Delivery Guy. Do it. Do it hard, do it fast, and do it like you’re an uncontrollable beast.

  “You want that?” He growls and nips at my neck. “Hard and fast, right here against the wall?”

  “I didn’t say that out loud.”

  “Yes you did.”

  “Oh my God.”

  “I like it. You want
me to be an uncontrollable beast?”

  “No. Yes. Yes, but maybe like a little bit controlled? No, that’s a lie. Lose all your control.”

  “Jana.”

  “Am I babbling?”

  He kisses me softly. “Oh yeah.”

  “This is the first time I’ve ever invited a delivery guy to wear my cat slippers.”

  “So you’re nervous.” He grins and kisses me again.

  I’m not nervous when he kisses me. “But that beast thing is totally a go, if you’re into that.”

  His eyes flare dark. “Yes. I’m into that.” He presses harder against me, pushing his cock into my palm. “But I like it even more if it’s your fantasy. Whatever makes you hot, makes me hard. Feel that?”

  Instead of answering him, I squeeze his erection. I’ve never before thought, hey, this dick feels really good in my hand, but his does. Like…really good. Thick and heavy. Promising.

  And as I touch him, the air between us shifts again. From playful back to intense, like it was in the kitchen, where a kiss got out of control in the best way possible.

  He’s got a tool belt of sorts on, so I can’t just start undressing him, but there’s enough play to the fabric of his pants that I can jerk him off a bit. He leans in and catches my lower lip between his teeth, making something hungry inside me lurch. Yes. Now. Right here.

  He gets my pants off, then his hand is in my panties and that feels like an excellent plan because his fingers are touching me and that’s incredible…but it’s so squirmalicious that my legs start shaking, and that’s the flaw in the awesome standing-in-the-hall sex plan.

  The standing up part is hard when someone is playing my clit like a fine violin.

  “You’re so soft,” he whispers. “Perfect.”

  And whispering dirty, sweet, melt-me words in my ear.

  I whimper, and somehow—does he have a third hand?—he picks me up and carries me the rest of the way to my bed.

  “I’ve got you, wild thing. Trust the beast.” His fingers are wet as they trail over my thigh and find me again, slick and ready for him, and he kisses me. Rough and reckless, this kiss feels like. Rough and perfect.

  How can something be so random, so almost-impossible, so totally reckless…and still perfect? Still totally, completely, stretch-out-naked-for-a-stranger right?

  I tug his shirt out of his pants, and he pauses stroking me long enough to pull his belt off and shove it toward the foot of my bed, the heavy holsters on it clunking together. A cell phone tumbles out of one of them, but he doesn’t seem to care. As I work on his fly, he starts touching me again, and I don’t care about anything else, either.

  He uses two fingers this time, and two Jake fingers are significant. They’re long and thick, and the stretch is enough to make me gasp. Plus he knows just what to do with them. Where to stroke and where to push. When to crook and curve and reach until I’m shamelessly riding his hand to my second orgasm.

  And that’s when his phone rings.

  Of course it is.

  When my thighs are sticky and I’m half-naked and I still haven’t seen his cock up close and personal.

  He swears under his breath.

  “Do you have to…?” I trail off, because off course he has to. Otherwise he’d have turned it off or just ignored it. “It’s okay.”

  It doesn’t really feel okay, but that’s the right thing to say here.

  He shakes his head. “It’s fine.”

  But then another phone starts ringing. Who has two cell phones? He hesitates, his knuckles turning white as he grips the blanket next to my head, and I push him lightly toward the end of the bed.

  No way am I messing up this guy’s job just so I can get laid. “Answer it,” I say gently. “You can use the living room if you want.”

  A look passes over his face, the skin around his eyes getting tight for a second, and I can’t read it. Is he embarrassed about his job? Or is he in trouble, and he doesn’t want to get dressed down by his boss in front of me?

  “Or…”

  He grimaces and finishes my thought. “Yeah. I gotta go. I’m sorry. You have no idea how sorry I am.”

  I laugh weakly. “Well, I got mine. Twice. So…I’m sorry for you.” I look at his erection, still thick and heavy against the front of his boxer briefs, bulging out through the open fly of his uniform. So close.

  He tosses the phone he’d picked up aside and leans forward, catching me around the back of my neck. He kisses me hard on the mouth. “I got my fingers wet, Jana. And it was the best thing I’ve ever felt. My tongue is fucking jealous. No way I’m not finishing this with you. I’ll be back.”

  10

  Jake

  I call my chief operating officer back as soon as I’m outside.

  “This better be mission fucking critical,” I grind out, leaping into my truck. It’s cold and dark outside now, and as soon as the voice activated speaker takes over the call, I pull on my gloves.

  “Did I interrupt something important?” Neil asks in his endlessly cool drawl. Nothing ruffles his feathers, which is why he’s in charge of operations—but it’s also why I rarely hear from him outside of scheduled meetings.

  “Everything is important.” I take a deep breath. That’s disingenuous. Jana’s special on a different level than my standard mantra. Everything is important. Every task, every person, every part of the process from the bottom on up to the top. It’s what sets Aston Corp apart. I’ve said that so many times it comes out by rote now. And it’s true. Even if I was simply delivering packages, I would be doing a job worth doing with all my attention.

  Not that I was doing that.

  I was doing something else. Someone else. And when Neil takes a deep breath, a sinking feeling tells me I’m not coming back any time tonight. “We’ve got a problem. A need-you-back-in-New-York-now kind of problem.”

  Twelve hours later, I stride out of the early morning frost and into the lobby of the Aston Corp building wearing a black Hugo Boss suit. Fitted, always. My real uniform. It’s still dark out, but my assistant meets me at the elevator with a cup of coffee and the latest brief the lawyers have put together for me. I grabbed two hours of sleep in the middle of the night, while my options were being investigated for legal minefields, but even though she’s changed, I’m not sure she got any rest.

  “Have you been here the entire time?”

  She shrugged. “Vince brought me a change of clothes and a bagel an hour ago.”

  “Your husband is a good man. But you need some rest. Today’s going to be a long day.”

  “You’ll make it up to me by approving an extra day of vacation at Christmas.”

  True story. “Who’s upstairs already?”

  She gestures for me to flip the paper over. I drain the last of my coffee as I read the list of names.

  “They’re all here?”

  “When you say jump, they all say how high.”

  I give her a scathing look, because if that were really true, we wouldn’t be in this mess.

  She shrugs. “Well, at least they pretend to.”

  I take another sip of coffee as the elevator rises past the eighteenth floor. Another few seconds. “I’ve missed your coffee, Cath.”

  “And my biting sarcasm?” she asks hopefully, trying to make a joke. Cath’s too sweet for sarcasm, but I don’t bother to burst that bubble.

  “You still need to work on that. Put that in your next performance review for me to sign.”

  “Will do.” She hesitates. “Sorry this happened while you were in Baltimore.”

  I grimace. I know it’s not logical to worry that it happened because I was away—it turns out the SwiftEx executive team had been corrupt for years, at a bone-deep level—but yeah…playtime is over. “That’s life.”

  “Good luck in there. I’m going check in with security, then I’ll be at my desk.”

  I hand her my now-empty coffee mug as the doors open, then stride away from her, cold, hard anger pumping through my veins.
>
  Waiting outside the boardroom is my legal team. I give them a curt nod, then they fall into place behind me.

  There’s nothing like the chill of a boardroom full of assholes who think they’re alpha. And for years, these smarmy fuckers were bullet-proof. When nobody is looking too closely at your books, you can get away with a lot of shit.

  Hell, we had looked closely at the SwiftEx accounting during the takeover and we’d still missed it. Shell corporations and more than a decade of layering lies…

  But this is Aston Corp. This is the towering citadel in the sky that I built. In this building, in this room, I’m the fucking alpha.

  I give one hard, unyielding look around the room before saying, “Gentleman. Thank you so much for coming in at this early hour. You’re all fired.”

  11

  Jana

  After he left last night, Jake sent flowers.

  Really nice flowers, too—hydrangeas in early December aren’t cheap, and I don’t think orchids are ever cheap. I really wanted something else from him, but he had to go. Something urgent’s come up, the card on the flowers said. Below it was a phone number with a New York area code.

  I sent him a thank you text with a picture of the flowers, and he sent one back promising to let me know when he was back in town.

  I’d gone to sleep filled with a weird, bittersweet happiness. My spontaneous hook-up had gone from uncomplicated and hot to super-complicated and sweet. But this morning…I don’t know, but something feels different.

  My phone chirps at me from the bedside table and I grab for it. I ignore the irrational stab of disappointment when it’s Nina and not Jake.

  Nina: When are you coming to the city again? I need to go to Belgium the week before Christmas.

  Jana: Not until the first week of January now. My meeting keeps moving.

  Nina: Oh, phew. I was worried I’d be away.

  Jana: It’s all good. Hey…you can stop sending me cat toys now, by the way. Hot Delivery Guy went out of town.