Blood pounds in my ears. In my cock. Deep in my belly, where nerves threaten to take over.
But tonight, what Hazel wants, Hazel gets. I drop my hands to her shoulders and spin her around.
“You sure about this?” I ask it as roughly as I just grabbed her. Hard, unyielding. As if this is a final chance to say no, but of course it’s not. I’ll be gentle with her, in spirit if not in body.
Her eyes are wide. But the corners of her mouth curl up in a slow, knowing smile as I slide one hand up the side of her neck, my thumb grazing her throat before I thrust my fingers into her hair and make a fist. “Yes,” she breathes. “Do it.”
I tug my hand down, leading her, and she bends, her legs folding as she drops to her knees.
I watch porn. Sometimes this kind of stuff. I’ve got an idea of what to do, although there’s all of that and then there’s this—with a real woman, who I want to enjoy every second of this. And there’s no shorthand in sex, not really. Doesn’t matter if it’s kinky or straight-laced. You gotta watch your girl, look for the clues that you’re on the right path.
My floors are pretty fucking hard. “That’s a good girl,” I tell her, tugging on her hair so she has to look up at me. “Thank you.” I get another beaming smile at that. I’ll praise her again at the first opportunity and see how that goes. “If the floor is too hard, you can squat down there. Your choice. If any part of you gets bruised tonight, I want it to be from my hand, not my loft.”
She swallows hard. “Understood.”
She stays on her knees.
With my free hand, I cup the bulge jutting rudely at the front of my dress pants. “You want this? You want to hear what it does to me for you to slide that pink, slick mouth along my cock?”
“Yes, please.”
“So polite.” I rock on my heels, brushing my fabric-covered cock against her face. “Take it out, Hazel. Play with me. Make me…what was it you wanted to hear? A groan?”
She nods eagerly as her fingers fumble with the zipper. I let go of her hair long enough to help her. I undo my belt, she does the rest, and as her fingers tug at the elastic of my briefs, my cock rises angrily between us. A thick, ruddy erection, already wet on the tip at the promise of her mouth.
Her lips part, her tongue peeks out, and then she swallows me. Head first, then a bit more. She bobs her head, taking a bit more with each sloppy suck, and when she pulls back, it’s with enough suction I want to thrust my hips hard and bury myself deep in her throat.
I do more than groan, too. I hiss and growl, moan her name, and none of it is for effect. I’ve got a hand in her hair again, but not as tight this time. I’ll be rough with her again soon enough. I’m going to haul her over my lap and give her all the fucking praise when she’s done sucking my soul out of my body.
“Hazel.” Her name is a broken plea on my lips. “I’m close.”
She doubles down, swirling her tongue against the underneath of my cock. Milking me. That’s the only way to describe it. I feel the orgasm start deep inside me, then my balls contract, pumping lewd spurts against the back of her mouth as she takes big, gulping swallows.
Oh, fucking hell. “Yes,” I say, then suck in a big, gulping breath. “Yes, God, yes. Hazel, that was fucking perfect. You beautiful woman. Come here.”
I brace myself against the window and pull her hair gently now, encouraging her to rise. Up she gets, and I kiss her perfect, filthy mouth. Her glorious little tongue which still tastes of me, and her sweet, swollen lips which did some seriously hard work just now.
I do my pants up again, then pick her up in my arms and carry her to the couch.
“That was hot,” I say once she’s settled on my lap. I stroke the curve of her breast through her shirt. “Were those some of the sounds you imagined?”
She grins and wiggles in my lap. “Yes.”
“As good as your fantasy?”
She groans. “You are so cocky. And yes, even better.”
I throw a fist in the air, and she pushes at me, which makes me push back. Then tickle.
She squeals, and I slide my fingers higher under her shirt, cupping her breasts. “Do you like it to hurt here, too?”
“Yes.” She traces her lips with the tip of her tongue. “Pinch me.”
I do. Both hands, gently.
“Harder.”
My cock—still sensitive from the blow job—pulses at the eager plea. “How hard?”
“I don’t know.” Her whispered answer is beautiful. “Let’s find out together. It just feels good.”
“For me too.” I squeeze again, then let go only to drop my hands to her thighs. I squeeze there, and she rolls her whole body, writhing against my touch. “You like that?”
“Mmm.”
“I want to see more of your skin.”
She peels off her shirt, then her bra. I pull her closer, bringing my mouth to her nipples. First one, then the other. A scrape of my teeth, a hard swallow of her flesh, all the while pinching the other taut, brown tip.
Back and forth, until I’m drooling from the taste of her and she’s grinding against me.
I flip her to the side, crawling on top of her. She wraps her legs around me, and I pin her down. I don’t miss the way her breath hitches.
“You were such a good girl,” I murmur between kisses. She whimpers in response. “And now it’s your turn. I’m going to suck on your sweet little pussy now, Hazel. Can you hold very still for me?”
She squeaks as I move down her body. I catch her leggings at the waistband and pull them down, her panties coming with them. I strip her down to nothing in an instant, and I’m rewarded with a blush even prettier than the one on the train.
Hazel, nude and stretched out on my sofa, is a work of art more precious than anything on my walls.
I trace the shape of her with my fingertips. Reverently, then a bit hurt-y. Pinch here, squeeze there.
“You’re blushing,” I tell her as my fingers wander up her neck and rub rudely against her lips.
She licks at my hand. “Am I?”
“Yes. And it makes me hard. You know what else makes me hard?”
She shakes her head, smiling. “Tell me.”
“When I squeeze your skin, it turns the same pretty shade of pink. And now every time I think of you blushing, I’m going to remember…” I rake my hand down her torso and settle it hard on her hip, where I squeeze until she gasps. “That sound. My God, it’s perfect.”
“Were you this dirty ten years ago?” Her eyes are wide, and she bites her lip.
“I don’t think I was this dirty ten hours ago, Hazel. We have some smoking chemistry between us, though, so who knows what would have happened?” I lean over her and suck one of her nipples into my mouth with a wet, hungry slurp.
Fuck yes.
No more waiting.
I need to know what the most sensitive part of her tastes like. I drop to the floor and drag her to the edge of the couch, pulling her outside leg over my shoulder.
Kissing my way up her inner thigh, I take a moment as I reach the crease between her leg and her pussy to breathe her in and appreciate the soft, gentle beauty of her body. Her curls are blonde here, lightly dusting the darker skin of her labia before giving way to the delicious pink of slick, wet skin inside her folds. I run my nose along the curls before tracing the same path with my fingers.
She shivers, but holds still, as I told her to. I lift my head long enough to praise her again, then bow back to my task.
The first taste of her is musky and light, the second stronger and sweeter. I lick up to her clit and then circle it, slowly at first, long licks, before closing my mouth around the hard, throbbing nub and sucking.
She comes up off the couch, her hands sliding into my hair, and croons my name. “Sam…”
Damn straight. I want her to say my name as she comes on my face. I want her to lose her mind while I suck her off, just as I lost my mind at the window.
I push her thighs wide with my forearms, opening up her cunt fo
r my mouth. My fingers. My teeth, just to test, as I nip at her labia.
“God, yes,” she cries out. “Sam, please.”
“Tell me,” I demand. “Tell me what you want.”
“Fuck me.”
“Condoms are all the way in the bedroom, babe. You gotta come first, then I’ll drag you to my bed. Is that what you want?” I slide two fingers into her slick, tight hole. “That’s right. Fuck my hand.”
I dip my head again and capture her clit again as she bucks against my mouth.
Her climax is bold and fast, just like Hazel. She floods my tongue with a burst of sex and passion and something unique to this night, to this woman.
I bury my face in the soft, tender skin of her inner thigh when she pushes my head off her sensitive flesh. This woman. Who wanted me to push her to her knees, and is now stroking my hair.
It’s not until after she starts to laugh that either of us remembers I told her to hold still.
“You could punish me,” she says, giggling, as I strip out of my clothes. Once I’m naked, I haul her off the couch and shove her playfully toward my bedroom.
“I will absolutely spank you, the second I catch you,” I growl.
She shrieks and runs ahead, but she stops as soon as she gets through the doorway. “Oh, this room is even nicer,” she says. “That view is whoa.”
I catch her around the waist and bury my face in her neck. She smells warm and womanly, and I can’t get enough. “Caught you.”
“You tricked me with the CN Tower outside your window.”
“Whatever I need to do to gain the upper hand.” I pick her up and spin us around, pointing her to the bed. “Get on your knees.”
She does, then wiggles her hips at me, and I pounce. It’s less of a spanking and more of a wrestling match, where I need to dig my fingers into the soft curve of her hips to hold her in place, and she likes that even more than the light swats I land on her bottom.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers, her eyes dancing, when I finally pin her down. She’s stretched out on her back and I’m between her legs. The wetness of her pussy is a crazy distraction against the throbbing length of my cock.
“No you aren’t.”
She shakes her head, giggling. “Not even a little.”
“So if I want you to hold still, I’ll need to make you?” I curve one eyebrow up in a menacing look, and her face goes serious.
“I guess so,” she says mock-solemnly. “Oh. No.”
Fuck, I need to be inside this woman. “Come here, you minx,” I murmur, tangling my hand in her hair as I kiss her.
Her tongue, her breath, the hard scrape of her teeth as she sinks them into my lower lip—all of it is magic, and none of it is enough. More. I need more.
I take her with me as I roll to the side of the bed, and she giggles. I grab a condom, then two more. Just in case.
That’s how I enter her for the first time, with both of us on our sides, facing each other. Time slows as my pulse jacks up. She wraps her top leg over my hip. I roll the latex down my shaft. Her fingers wrap around my slick length and she guides me into her as I pull her close.
The look on her face is unforgettable. Eyes wide, then wider again, and her lips part.
“Oh,” she breathes, and I feel it too. An obscene stretch, because she’s slick but still tight, her little pussy eager for me but not quite ready. But then her heat gives way and inch by inch she slides onto me, until I’m buried all the way. “Sam…”
We fuck like that, entwined on our sides. Outside the window, the snow still swirls, a white blanket cocooning us from the world. There’s no rush, and we take it slower than I’ve ever made love before.
Each thrust is a complete moment. Hazel moves inside a tight circle of my arms like she’s always been there. I give her my all, finding the depths of her reactions and pushing there until she cries out.
It’s beautiful. She’s beautiful, but the act itself feels like her poem. She wrote me a God damn poem. And then she gave it to me, in breathy little gasps, when I don’t deserve such sweetness.
I told her exactly who I am.
She knows.
And she’s still pulling me into her body, letting me love her.
It’s beautiful, but it’s raw, too. Vulnerable. Exposed.
She looks at me like she sees right to my soul, and that should scare me. I’ve had enough of being put on display for a lifetime. I’ve been picked apart and judged and found lacking in the worst way.
I’m a social pariah. A menace.
But Hazel’s right here, letting me love her.
And she’s smiling. “Sam…”
God, yes.
“You fuck like a god.”
Fucking. Not loving. Keep it real, Sam. Our conversation on the train rockets through my mind. Neither of us are romantic. I can’t confuse great sex—mind-blowing sex—with more complicated emotional attachment.
I roll onto my back, pulling her with me. “Ride me, Hazel.”
Her eyes sparkle as she wiggles on top of me. “Make me, Sam.”
I squeeze her hips, urging her up. Her eyes flash, and she pushes against me, my cock disappearing inside her again.
My brain stutters over how good it feels to be fully sheathed in her sweet, tight cunt. I force her up again, her gasping cry a gorgeous reward. She resists again, sliding her heat back over me. We play that game for a few more thrusts, then I take over, holding her place with a firm grip as I fuck her from below.
Hard, demanding thrusts. Take it, come for me, take it, take my love, be more perfect. A riot of sensations takes off, numbing my thoughts as she begins to shake. My thumb finds her clit, giving her something to grind against as I drive up and into her on a final ruthless plunge.
And then she collapses, and I’m coming, I’m coming, deep inside her, and the thoughts rush back.
So perfect, so warm, so real.
Hazel.
Our second round of sex starts in the shower.
It ends with a hard, fast screw on the floor three feet from the shower, with Hazel perched on my lap, my cock buried deep in her clutching pussy.
She presses her forehead against mine, and the damp tendrils of her hair curtain us in.
Another cocoon. Another safe space for me to lose myself in her.
To pretend I’m not stuck in a weird place in my life where I’m desperately grateful for all that I have—and hating it all the same.
“Come for me, Sam,” she whispers, and I do. Hard, fast, blindingly.
After we clean up again, we crawl naked into my bed.
Outside, the snow has died down. I gesture to the dark sky and the distant glint of a star. “The ice demon doesn’t seem upset now.”
“He convinced his beloved to return to his fortress with him.” She wriggles in my arms. “That is not a metaphor for anything.”
A pain that feels a lot like regret spasms in my chest. “I wouldn’t presume.”
“It’s just good storytelling.”
“Very.”
She’s quiet for a moment, and I run my fingers through her hair. “Sam?” Before I can answer, my phone vibrates on the night stand. It’s the middle of the night. She glances toward it. “Do you want to check that?”
No, I want to bury myself in her body and pretend my life and all the complications that come with it don’t exist. “I probably should.”
“Go.” She rolls away from me, flopping out in the middle of my bed. A naked goddess, a blast from the past, when I was still a fuck-up but in other ways, less complicated ways.
I grab the phone. It’s a text message from Grace, and that awful regret in my chest twists tighter. I don’t click into the message right away. I don’t want to. Whatever Luke has done, if he’s missing or they’re fighting, I don’t want to deal with it right now.
Grace: Are you up? I know it’s the middle of the night.
Sam: I’m up. What’s wrong?
Grace: I need to talk to someone.
I g
lance back at Hazel. At her bare skin, her dark gaze, locked on my face. My stomach churns. “It’s my sister-in-law.”
She nods. “Do what you need to do.”
I don’t know what that is. I never have, not really. My brain will trick me into making all sorts of bad decisions. “My brother’s an asshole.”
Hazel’s expression doesn’t change.
I don’t know why I’m telling her this now. My phone vibrates again. “I need to—”
“Sure. Go.”
I glance down at the screen.
Message deleted by the sender
I waited too long, and whatever it was, Grace doesn’t want to talk about it anymore.
“I don’t know what she wants.” I scrub my hand over my face.
“Come back to bed,” Hazel whispers. “Come here.”
I want to. I want to so fucking much it hurts. But it’s three days before Christmas, and if I don’t deal with this right now, it’s going to wreck the entire holidays. I shake my head. “I can’t. You should get some sleep. I have to go.”
“Sam—” She cuts herself off. Then she smiles. “Thanks for tonight.”
I crawl on top of her. I don’t know what to say right now, but I know what to do. I kiss the ever loving hell out of her. I pin her down until I make her gasp against my mouth, and then I swallow that sound so it’s mine.
Hazel’s little sounds are all mine now. “I’ll be back,” I whisper.
She curls up in my blankets, naked and perfectly bare as I pull on clothes I don’t want to wear. I flip off the lights, hoping I’ll return before dawn lights up the sky.
I don’t make it.
And when I return, not only is my room lit with cool grey morning light, it’s also empty.
Read the rest of Hazel and Sam’s story in Tempt! And Grace gets a book, too. Read all about the Secrets and Lies duet on my website: www.ainsleybooth.com/books/secrets-and-lies/
About the Author
Mom by day and filthy romance writer by night, Ainsley is a three-time USA Today bestseller (Hate F*@k, Prime Minister), and super grateful for caffeine and yoga pants. Born and raised near Toronto, Ontario, Canada, she's traveled the world and come back home to write about book boyfriends with maple leaf tattoos.
Stuck: A Secrets and Lies prequel Page 4