by Alex Grayson
Chloe scrunches her nose. “His girlfriend inspired you?”
“Her name was Chloe.” I wrap my arms behind her back and pull her down on me. “When I left for school. I felt like a piece of me was missing. I didn’t know until that day what it was. Not exactly anyway. So, when I saw the colors and heard your name, I knew I needed something that represented home.”
“A rainbow.” Chloe’s voice is barely a whisper.
“You.” I take her face in my hands. “You were my home. That day, I not only branded you on my skin, but on my heart.”
“Jake.” Chloe leans down and presses her lips to mine as a single tear escapes. I catch it.
“Babe…” she opens her eyes as she moves down my body and places her head on my heart, “what are you doing?”
“I have to hear it. I have to know that this is real.”
I chuckle.
“Shhh!” Chloe rests her chin on my chest. “I’m trying to listen.”
“Come here.” I pull her up and roll us over. “You don’t need to hear it because I’m going to make you feel it.
“You promise?”
“I promise. I’m yours, Chloe Prescott. For however long you’ll have me.”
Chloe
“Oh God!” I fall back on the pillow and bite my bottom lip, fisting the covers as my head twists back and forth with every single swipe of his tongue. I never knew it could feel like this.
“Not God, just Jake,” he hums against the most tender part of me.
“Yes!” I can’t hold back. “Right there,” I beg.
His tongue penetrates deep into me, and I groan.
“You like that.”
There are no words.
I can only feel.
Jake is doing exactly what he promised, and holy hell, this is more than I could have ever imagined.
He runs his tongue along the slick folds between my thighs, and I groan as my hands find his hair and hold on. Grinding back, he lashes out over me until my hands go everywhere—the sheets, his hair, scraping up his back. I’m out of control.
He moans.
I gasp.
His mouth remains steady as his fingers find their way inside me.
One.
Two.
I have never felt so full as his mouth works magic and his fingers pulsate in and out. Over and over again.
It’s too much. I can’t take it. Sweat beads on my forehead. I feel dizzy. The room spins. The pressure builds between my legs. Gah! I’m about to explode. My body is on fire from the inside out, and I don’t want it to be put out. Let me burn.
Oh shit!
Oh shit!
“O-O-Oh shit—Jake!” I jerk forward and dig my nails into his back as he plunges into me. His hand speeds up. His tongue lashes. “Oh my God!” I let out an urgent scream as my body begins to tremble and my legs lock his head into place. “Shit.” I’m going to suffocate him.
Please don’t die.
My body seizes as I ride out the wave while Jake holds on for the ride.
“Holy cow.” My legs fall open and I somehow find the energy to lift my head to check on Jake.
“Hi.” He places a kiss on the inside of my thigh, then the other.
He’s alive. Thank God.
“Hi.” I try to smile and fall back onto the pillow.
“Someone’s a little worn out.” He teases, moving back up my body and settling between my legs. I see the fire that lights his eyes as his hard length presses where his tongue just brought me ecstasy.
He rests his forehead against mine, looking at me the way I always imagined he would. Like I’m his whole world.
My breath quickens as he begins to set the pace. His thumbs brush my cheeks, and the whisper of his lips flutters across my own as he tells me how beautiful I am.
If I thought before was extraordinary, this is everything.
Jake crashes his mouth to mine, his kisses growing more urgent. Licking the seam of my lips, I open. He sighs against my mouth as our tongues begin to swirl. My body instinctively presses into him, needing to be closer. He stretches his arm between us, taking his cock into his hand. I reach down, placing my hand over his and feel him.
“Chloe, as much as I would love your hands on me, I need to be in you… now.” I smile as I guide him in. “Fuck.” His head tilts back.
Our eyes lock as he slowly fills my body. Our lips connect, and his hand are on me.
In my hair.
On my skin.
Everywhere.
He groans as he quickens his pace. My movements become more frantic as he grows harder inside me.
I Crave him.
Want him.
Need him.
Without warning, my orgasm crashes through me, and his follows. The only sounds are our breathing and moans as we let the pleasure overtake us both.
This is what I’ve been waiting for.
He may be my older brother’s best friend, but now he’s mine. I found my pot of gold.
Thank you for reading Take Me! I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I loved writing it. If you’re curious about Chloe and Jake, and if they got the HEA they deserved, stay tuned for Make Me, the conclusion to their story.
Are you new to the Spotlight Collection? You can start the series exploring Lee and Ellie’s story in Play Me
About Cary
Cary Hart hails from the Midwest. A sassy, coffee drinking, sometimes sailor swearing, Spotify addict, lover of all things books!
When not pushing women down the stairs in the fictional world, Cary has her hands full. Soccer mom in all sense of the word to two wild, crazy, spoiled kiddos, and wife to the most supportive husband. In addition to writing full time, she enjoys binge-watching Netflix, laying around in her hammock, and baking cookies for her family and friends.
Visit her at www.authorcaryhart.com
Sign up to her newsletter
Join her reader group
#CRUSH
Kally Ash
What happens on a Bachelorette night, stays on a Bachelorette night...
Right?
1
Brody attached the black bow tie around his neck and straightened the thing out. It felt too tight, but he’d bulked up a little in the last few months, so that was always good. He may have ruined his football career by being an idiot, but at least he was still strong. The rehab following the crash had been gruelling, but his desire to walk again was stronger than anything else that could be thrown at him.
There was a knock on the door. “Yo, Brody. You ready, man?”
He opened the bathroom door and stepped out into the hallway. “Yeah, man,” he said to Derek, clapping palms with the guy.
“It’s a bachelorette party, Brody.” He grinned. “You know what that means, don’t you?”
Fuck yeah, he did. Women who were looking to hook up because nothing said sexual freedom like one of their own tying the knot. Derek was your typical man-whore so he’d tap at least one here at the Nightingale, then take another two home.
Brody wasn’t like that. He never slept with any of the women that pawed at him on nights like this. He never took advantage of the champagne that overflowed their glasses. It wasn’t that he wasn’t interested, because he fucking was—he just had personal standards. He didn’t drink anymore, and he didn’t want any girl who wanted to bed him to have their judgement impaired by alcohol either.
Yeah, he was a fucking saint.
On the other side of the staff door, he heard the shrill shouts of women ready to start their night. He looked at his reflection, brushing his hands over the front of his black slacks. That was all he had on, save for the bow tie. At first, he hadn’t liked the idea of being a slab of meat for women to drool over, but he got over that really quickly when he made almost five hundred dollars in tips on his first night. After that, he didn’t look back. It was money he desperately needed.
“Gentlemen, how are we this evening?”
Brody looked up to find Ethan Har
ris, owner of the Nightingale, standing off to one side. He had his arms folded over his chest, his suit perfectly tailored, right down to the high-gloss shine of his shoes.
“Great, Mr. Harris.”
“If you gentlemen need to take a break, take it. If you need to let off some steam”—he paused, looking pointedly at Derek—“there’s a private bathroom in the VIP area.”
Derek held out his hand to Ethan. “You know me too well.”
“Be discreet and good luck tonight.” He turned and walked out the door and into the hall.
Brody turned to Derek, holding out his fist. His friend pounded it with a grin. “Let’s get this show on the road.”
Derek disappeared out the door, but Brody took a moment to let out a deep breath, mentally preparing himself for the onslaught of roving hands, blatant come-ons and outright groping of his ass and his dick. Nothing was sacred as far as bachelorette parties were concerned.
Lia sipped on her water and looked around the bar. She’d only ever been there once before—when she’d come in to check it out and make sure it was going to work for her sister’s bachelorette party. The Nightingale was one of the most popular clubs in West Hollywood—second only to Temptation. From out of the hallway that led to the bathrooms, Ethan Harris—the owner of the club—appeared looking sharp in his suit. He walked straight towards the bar, talking briefly to the blonde bartender before wandering around the club itself. If she could’ve gotten that guy alone, she’d probably let him do whatever he wanted…
At least that’s what she told herself. In reality, she was too timid to ever approach a man like him. For anything.
“Lia!” her sister yelled too closely to her ear. She wrapped her arm over her shoulder and pulled her in close. “Thank you so much for organizing this,” she slurred into her ear.
Lia smiled. “No problems, Bella. What are sisters for if not to get you drunk?”
Bella tossed her gorgeous blonde hair over her shoulder and pressed a kiss to her cheek. “You’re the best!”
Stumbling away, she swung her hips over to her friends who were already on the dance floor. Lia sat back in the booth and jogged the straw in her drink. Going out to clubs and drinking wasn’t really her scene, but for her sister, she would make the effort.
Movement in her periphery had her looking back in the direction of the hallway that led down to the bathrooms. Her breath left her on a sharp exhale as two topless waiters emerged. One had skin the color of dark chocolate, his body stacked with muscle. His expression was relaxed—cocky even—like he really enjoyed his job. But it was the other guy who caught and captured her attention. A little taller than the first guy, his skin was tanned like warm toffee. His stomach was ribbed with muscles, his shoulders and arms much the same. His hips narrowed down into that V men seemed to get, his black slacks hiding what would’ve no doubt been thighs equally as muscular.
He was laughing at something the other guy said, his face open and easy. With black hair and green eyes, he looked exactly like a guy she used to know. Well, she didn’t use to know him. It was more like she watched him from afar. His name was Brody Riker and he was the guy she measured all others against. QB of their high school, he was that unobtainable guy and also the one who never knew she existed.
They walked to the bar, collecting trays loaded with champagne flutes, before turning around to face the crowd of women who had just noticed them. Something was said between them before they split up, dividing and conquering.
2
Brody scanned the room, identifying all the women who were involved in the bachelorette party. It helped that they were all corralled on one side of a velvet rope, a section of the club just for them to take advantage of. The VIP area had its own bar and private bathrooms, and by the way Derek zeroed in on a pretty woman with cafe au lait skin, they would probably be in use very soon.
He was about to join the guy when something made him turn his head. There was a woman sitting at one of the booths, her chin resting on her hand. It was funny; he thought she looked like the girl he had the biggest crush on in school. Lia Walker. She had the same warm blue eyes and dark hair. She even wore it in the same way—just a messy bun at the top of her head.
He started in her direction, the tray of champagne flutes balanced
expertly on his palm.
“Hi,” he said as he approached. “Would you like—” The question died on his tongue. It was her. “Lia?” he asked.
Her eyes widened at the sound of her name, right before they drifted
down his chest, stomach, and south of his belt. It felt as if she were stripping him with her gaze and his body reacted, hardening.
“It is Lia, isn’t it?” he asked, hoping to get her to stop checking him out like that.
She nodded. “Brody?”
He smiled. “Yeah, it’s me.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Jesus, how
long has it been?”
She flushed and looked down at the table. “Since senior year of high school, I guess. So, at least five years?”
“Wow,” he replied, wondering how she’d managed to get even more beautiful.
“Oh! Ah, thank you?”
Jesus, had he said that out loud? Damn it. He glanced around and then back at her. Her blue eyes were back on his body. “So, you’re a topless waiter now?” she asked, and he was suddenly ashamed of what he did for cash.
“It’s a side job,” he replied quickly. “I have student loans.”
“Oh, yeah, I know about them,” she replied with a small shrug. “What did you study?”
“Accounting.” It wasn’t a lie, exactly, more like a stretch of the truth. He had started his degree; he just hadn’t gotten around to finishing it on account of the rehabilitation and his learning to walk again. When she didn’t have any follow-up questions, he said, “What about you?”
“Teaching,” she replied. “I’m a teacher.”
Oh yeah, he could totally see her as a teacher—one of those sexy-as-sin ones who punished him for skipping class.
“—Brody?”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry? What?”
Another one of those small secret smiles. It was almost like she knew how badly he was affected by her.
“I asked if you played football in college? I thought you got a scholarship to Ole Miss…”
Brody shifted on his feet and Lia realized she was making him nervous. Which was ridiculous. He was a freaking god and she was the shy girl who blended into the background so well, the yearbook committee almost forgot to include her. But here Brody Riker was, standing in front of her and looking at her like he was having a fantasy about...well…her.
“I did,” he finally said. Cleared his throat. “I did play football, but my career was...short-lived,” he tacked on with a wince.
She smiled, knowing there was a story there, but unwilling to prod at what was clearly a wound for him. Sliding from her seat, she stood up, intending on just going to the bathroom so that he would have an excuse to stop talking to him. The guy probably had a hundred other things to do than stand there and talk to her.
“Well, it’s been nice talking to you,” she said, her feet still planted in place despite the message from her brain to get moving.
He grinned. “Are you blowing me off?”
“Blowing you…” Just blowing him. Damn. Okay, she had to stop thinking like that, but it was really hard when his green-as-green eyes drifted down to her mouth.
Reaching up, he touched the pad of his thumb to her bottom lip. She shivered, her eyes sliding shut as all sorts of illicit pictures flitted through her mind.
“No,” she wheezed out, stepping away from his touch. Her eyes darted to the tray of drinks still balanced on his palm. “You’re working,” she said. “You should get back to work.”
He glanced off to the side, then fixed his hot gaze back on her face. “I get a break in about half an hour. Can we talk again?”
She nodded slowly, still confused.
/>
Running the back of his fingers over her cheekbone, he said, “Thank you. Stay right there. I’ll be done soon.” He scooped up one of the flutes and handed it to her. “Don’t go anywhere, Lia.”
She took the glass and shivered a little, her lower body clenching tight. Mechanically, she sat and downed the champagne in one gulp. She instantly regretted it since she was the designated driver for her sister, and she’d sworn to her fiancé that she’d get her home in one piece. She tried to focus on anything but Brody, but her eyes kept drifting over to where he was now standing, talking and laughing with her sister’s friends. She nearly swallowed her tongue when she saw one of them groping his ass and shoving a wad of bills into his pants.
Unbidden, jealousy scorched her veins, although she couldn’t say why. Brody wasn’t hers. He’d only spoken to her for a moment, so she had no claim. As if he heard her thoughts, Brody looked over at her and winked. Okay, that wink shouldn’t make her heart soar like that. They hadn’t seen each other in five years. There was no connection, but damn it, she wanted there to be one.
3
Brody held back the grimace as yet another woman grabbed his ass and squeezed. He shot a smile over his shoulder, then carefully extricated himself from her rather firm grip. He’d learned to grin and bear the groping, but he was reaching the end of his tether.
“Have you met my sister?” a woman in front of him asked. He turned to the blonde, seeing the pink sash declaring her as the bride-to-be.
“Your sister?” he asked.