Unmeasured (Unmatched Book 1)

by Alyssa Turner

  Samantha darted to the door. Oleg followed with a robe and his pants in hand. Paolo stayed with Ivan, holding his hand in a way that offered comfort. The look on his face said both he and Ivan needed it.

  Henri grabbed the rest of his instruments and compartmentalized for what he would face upstairs.

  *

  THE END

  Unleashed, Unmatched Book 2

  If you enjoyed this book, please spread the word! Consider posting a quick review.

  More from Alyssa Turner

  Read the Polished Series, the first in the

  Love Has No Regrets collection.

  It seemed like they had everything, but they didn’t have Jack.

  Without question, Spencer Hartley burns hot for his girlfriend, Rory, but his other desires are hidden down deep. He might blow things up for a living and climb mountains for kicks, but the scariest thing in his life is the truth about his sexuality.

  Jack Rothman works hard and plays dirty. After long, demanding days in his family’s engineering firm, he indulges in the pleasures of silk restraints and fine wine. Lots of hot, meaningless sex helps him forget that he’s suffocating, with no one to give him a reason to breathe.

  When a catastrophic accident traps Spencer in a flooded subway tunnel with Jack, they need each other to survive. But something strong stirs down there in the darkness, and it’s more than their desperation to live. There’s a spark between them that’s impossible to ignore.

  Rory Campbell would love to give Spencer the one thing he doesn’t have—the freedom to explore his secret desires. But how does that fit into her picture-perfect relationship? When Jack invites the couple to his sprawling Hamptons beach house, Rory realizes that she has secret desires of her own—the kind only Jack’s Dominant hand across her bare bottom can satisfy…

  Polished

  Chapter One

  If it had been any sunnier out, the butterflies flitting over the meadow would have spontaneously combusted. Rolling hills in the near distance were lush with life, pure emerald green against a textured backdrop of pine trees crowding the mountain.

  Spencer let out a sigh and smiled. A rare summer breeze cruised across the back deck. “Tell me again why I let you do this?”

  Rory snickered. “Because you love me, Spence, and you want to indulge my every wish.”

  “Oh, yeah. That’s right.” Spencer reached for a piece of her auburn hair to twirl around his finger.

  “Stay still, or you’ll make me mess it up,” Rory warned, holding his foot a little more firmly and steadying her hand.

  “Why purple this time?”

  She shrugged. “It was on sale.” She rested her bare foot high on Spencer’s thigh and wiggled her toes. “I like the color, don’t you?”

  Spencer laughed, caressing her arch. “I like whatever you like.”

  Rory flashed Spencer her toothiest grin. Most men would never let their girlfriend paint their toenails. Spencer’s weekly pedicures started after one too many rude awakenings in the middle of the night. There’s nothing sexy about a hangnail stabbing you in the leg. It was a pedicure or the couch, and Spencer told Rory he had no intention of sleeping away from her. What started as a joke had evolved into an intimate ritual, a secret all their own.

  “So you’ll be late coming home tomorrow?”

  Spencer pressed his ruddy lips together. “Not just tomorrow, babe, all month.”

  “All month!” Rory dunked the brush back into the paint pot. “What kind of overtime lasts all month?”

  “Baby, that’s a lot of cash. I’m not about to let the city give it to someone else. Mayor is all over the news promising that new subway station will be done by next summer.”

  Rory huffed. A month’s worth of overtime was a lot of money. Lord knew they could use it, but double shifts meant she’d hardly ever see him. “What time are you leaving tomorrow morning?”

  “Early, before you even think to wink, lazybones.”

  She paused. “It’s Sunday. Are you still going climbing?” Spencer never missed his day to get up high on the mountain.

  He gave her a crooked look. “I was…you want to come?”

  “Okay, but I’m sore from working in the garden yesterday. I’ll only slow you down.”

  “Slow is good sometimes,” he said, grabbing Rory around the waist and pulling her into his lap.

  She snuggled into his chest, intending to stay curled up there until the purple lacquer was set; the idea of his dressed-up toes inside his work boots tickled her to no end.

  The lazy morning drifted by, with homemade waffles dunked in coffee and the two of them trading newspaper sections at the kitchen table. Rory watched the sun pouring through the window catch Spencer’s chestnut mop of hair, revealing subtle natural highlights any woman would kill for. He needed a haircut, or so he would say, but Rory always preferred him to look a little disheveled. It suited him, the relaxed freedom a little scruff and mussed hair gave him. If she wanted a buttoned-down corporate type, she’d have stayed with her ex. Spencer wasn’t anything like her ex, and it was one of the reasons she loved him.

  By afternoon they were dangling from the side of the Shawangunk Ridge. Rory dug her toe in and clipped her carabiner like Spencer had taught her. Her muscles screamed, but when she looked back down at Spencer’s encouraging smile, she couldn’t help but smile back.

  “We’re almost there, baby,” Spencer said, as if he knew she’d come close to her limit. Rock climbing was his passion, but Rory was game for whatever Spencer was passionate about. That smile alone was enough to make her want to do just about anything.

  “I know we’re almost there,” Rory shouted down to him. “I was just checking to see if I was moving too fast for you.”

  He laughed hard. The baritone of his chuckles echoed in the expanse of the valley below. “Big talker, huh?”

  She smiled back. “All I know is I’m up here and you’re down there.” Of course he’d let her go first and had kept a slow and steady pace behind her, keeping a watchful eye on her, making sure she was safe. Fifty feet in the air, Rory wouldn’t have expected him to be any less protective than usual.

  Spencer’s phone rang, marring the moment. The blasted thing was permanently glued to his hip. A promotion to foreman three months ago meant he was on call more than he wasn’t. He tapped his speaker button. “Hartley here.”

  Rory couldn’t make out the voice calling him, but if he’d answered, he must have been expecting an important call.

  “Yeah, Jack,” Spencer continued. “I got the notification. But I thought we were going in with three teams. Two is cutting it tight.”

  Rory pressed on and up. She wanted to make it up to the top by the time Spencer disconnected. After five minutes talking to Jack Rothman, Spencer would be sure to appreciate a distraction, and Rory knew just the thing.

  Spencer’s voice sounded strained as he swallowed the words he really wanted to use. “Yes, I got it. I’ll make the calls.”

  Gritting her teeth, Rory tugged her herself to the top and got ready.

  *

  When at last Spencer hauled himself over the ridge, aggravation had wiped the smile right off his face. Then he noticed Rory. She was leaning back on her hands, with her legs propped up in front of her, dead center in Spencer’s line of sight. She’d managed to shimmy out of both her harness and her shorts and waited naked from the bottom down, save for her climbing shoes.

  Spencer shook his head, his lip quirking into the start of a grin. This was exactly why he loved Rory so goddamn much. He’d dated plenty; he’d had his share of whirlwind weekend trysts that didn’t last to Monday night football. Rory had changed all that three years ago without even trying. That was the best part. She’d only had to be herself—sweet, impulsive, and up for anything. Their afternoon climbs often ended up like this, with Spencer dropping his chalk bag and gear off his square hips and heading directly between her creamy thighs. The chance of being discovered was slim on this part of the ridg
e, but if he knew Rory like he thought he did, the idea that someone might catch them in the act set a fire in her core.

  Rory’s head lolled, tipping toward her shoulder. The two long braids she wore were splayed across her ample chest. She had gorgeous tits, though he often wondered if she knew it. The simple crew neck T-shirt stretched across them looked disarmingly innocent above her brazen nudity. Spencer’s cock sprung to life in his shorts.

  “Couldn’t even wait for me to spread out the blanket this time?” Spencer said, crawling up between her knees. She was sitting on her shorts, the warmth of the sun-baked rock no doubt toasting her bare ass through the cotton fabric. Inches away from her, he sat up on parted knees and shrugged off the lightweight knapsack that held their usual necessities for a leisurely sprawl on top of a mountain.

  Rory shrugged. “You complaining?” She tossed her words while tweaking the end of a long braid with her delicate fingers. She tilted her head to the other side and looked up at him with her wide chestnut eyes.

  “Nah, baby, I’m definitely not complaining.” Spencer dropped his hands to the rock on either side of her and landed a hungry kiss to her mouth. She was butter under his lips, smooth and soft, responding to every twist and flick of his tongue against hers. They moved with the kind of harmony that only a long-term relationship could bring. He already knew he wanted to feel this way forever. He just needed to put a few more things in order before he popped the question. For one, he needed to be making more consistent money. And he needed to tell her everything.

  Rory moaned when he bit softly on her lip. “I got you all to myself up here,” he whispered.

  She nodded. “And you? No more phone calls?”

  He rose up on his knees, released his phone from the holster, powered it off, and tossed it into the knapsack. “No more calls.”

  He could see the doubt in her eyes. He’d been plenty distracted with work lately. The know-it-all consultants were on his ass night and day. Jack Rothman was the worst of them, an obnoxious asshole trying to make a name for himself in daddy’s company.

  One deep breath and he really began to relax. Rory’s honeysuckle shampoo, mixed with the smell of fresh pine needles, wafted into his nostrils. They had to be two of his favorite scents; his favorite place combined with his favorite person. What could be better? He licked his lips. “Mmm. I want to taste you.”

  Rory squealed beneath him. He loved having that effect on her, and he hadn’t even done anything yet. Just the promise of the pleasure he intended to give her was all she needed to get all creamy. That thought shot a bolt through him from his heart to his groin. The sounds coming from Rory were all eager coos and short puffs of air. A pleased grin smoldered on his lips as he snaked down her torso. She squirmed underneath him, her breathing aflutter. Spencer would take his time with her that afternoon. God knew he’d be dog tired for the next few weeks, but he’d make the most of every moment he had with Rory until then.

  Catching the hem of her fitted T-shirt and sliding it upward, he found her belly button quivering under his breath. He dipped his head and circled the precipice of the tiny cavern with the tip of his tongue. The August humidity and their vigorous scramble up the boulders had dewed her skin with sweat. He patrolled the perimeter of her navel again and again, savoring her, taking his time.

  She arched toward him. He gave her a little more, flicking his tongue into the shallow hole of her belly button, making her writhe further, pressing all the way into her navel and then drawing back away from her entirely. He looked up and met her eyes as he fucked a small part of her. She cooed and pursed her lips. He felt a tightness growing in his cock. Her effect on him was always epic.

  Her hand sought the top of his head, weaving her fingers into his wavy locks and pushing him lower with gentle insistence. He grinned against her belly. By now, Rory trusted him enough to make her desires known.

  He responded to her unspoken request and dragged his lips downward. Her overheated body tasted salty and sweet as he blazed a trail to the downy border of her sex. He gave her a lazy lick, east to west across her neatly trimmed bikini line, and then veered up north to her hip bone. Rory pursed her lips just a little bit more and stilled under his tongue, holding her breath, waiting for his next move.

  “Open up, baby,” Spencer whispered. She spread her luscious thighs a little wider and he gently coaxed them still farther apart. Rory reddened and closed her eyes, a breathless giggle passing her lips. She could be shy at times like this, almost as though she’d prefer to be peeping in on herself from behind a curtain. It was a contradiction that he didn’t wholly understand; she was sassy and confident one minute and then shy the next. She was always honest, though, and Spencer envied her for that. There’s freedom in honesty and Rory’s emotions played like a movie on her face.

  He tucked his head to her sex and parted her labia with his mouth, his hot breath bouncing back to him in the confines. He inhaled and breathed her; in through the nose and out through the mouth. Fuck, she smelled fantastic, heavy in his nostrils, thick with the scent of her desire.

  He began with a single lick, a taste of what was to come. He’d have plenty of opportunities to feel her juices against his tongue before they were done. But that first lick—that was the one he wanted her to remember.

  He stole between her folds, sliding his tongue against her slickness. Rory’s swelling pussy lips engulfed him as he licked the shallows of her entry. With a little more pressure he dipped inside her and felt her clench at her core. Then he pulled out and flattened his tongue against her clit, watching with upturned eyes as she bit her lip. Loving her reaction, he curled his tongue against her, flicking the tip of her bud.

  “Damn, baby…ooh…” Her words dripped like liquid. Spencer’s cock throbbed in his pants. He’d need to be inside her soon, but first he wanted to hear her suck the thick August air through her teeth and tell him how good it felt, to watch her throw her head back with her mouth open, licking her lips and calling his name. Eating Rory was as pleasurable for him as he knew it was for her. Fucking perfection.

  Her legs began to quiver around his head. That meant it was time to increase his pace. He knew her cues. He had been educating himself on her responses since their very first time. By now, he considered himself an expert. He knew she liked her clit sucked right before she was about to come, so he revved it up and down against his tongue, sucking it almost like a miniature cock. Fuck it—he did think of it like that, like wrapping his lips around a tiny little cock.

  Rory burst into his mouth, sweet and tart at once. Her pleasure was never restrained, her orgasms wet and messy and delicious. The force of it amazed him; that he could do that to her delighted him.

  There was so little breeze. Sweat had started to bead on Rory’s forehead. Rivulets were running from Spencer’s brow to his chin and into his shirt. He yanked the shirt off and tossed it aside, then he began to unbuckle his belt. Rory’s hands met his at his crotch and unzipped him. She looked so damn happy, grinning up at him from below. Even with her eyes squinting in the late summer sun, she was gorgeous.

  “Love you,” he said. She didn’t need to respond; he wasn’t even expecting her to. The way she looked at him told him all he needed to know. It was good, knowing that kind of security. Spencer said it again, just because he could.

  She opened wide and swallowed him to the back of her throat without hesitation. Spencer shuddered with the sudden jolt of electricity flowing through him. Her lips curled around his shaft, and her cheeks hollowed as she pulled back from him. She didn’t release him though. She kept him captive in her mouth, twirling her tongue around his cockhead and driving him crazy. He threw his hips forward in appreciation. Rory wrapped her fingers around his calves and squeezed. She was his, and she made him feel better than any man had a right to feel. He smiled and let her do her thing, raising his arms above his head and tucking them behind his neck as he stood there, letting her take whatever she wanted.

  Just standing there was
a challenge, requiring him to brace against the pleasure she delivered with her busy mouth. He could have easily toppled over from how good her tight little mouth felt hugging his dick. Her head bobbed back and forth in front of him, and he dared to let his hips sway to her rhythm. But a new surge was brewing, and he felt a need to have his cock buried in her depths. Coming in Rory’s mouth was nothing compared to the feeling of her pussy drinking him dry.

  He held out his hand and guided her—all ladylike—to the smooth surface of the ancient boulders behind them. His other hand wrapped tightly around his cock as it jutted though his open fly. Rory turned toward the sun-baked stone and draped herself against it, cradling the curving contours created by a prehistoric river’s caress. Spencer grabbed her under one knee and hauled her leg up against the granite. She let out a surprised giggle.

  “Now who’s the one who can’t wait?” she purred over her shoulder.

  Spencer bit her jaw, leaving a playful mark there, which faded in a matter of seconds. Then he plunged into her silken cunt with everything he’d been holding back. She was so ready for him, so open. So hot.

  “Mmmmmm…yeah…”

  God, how he loved to hear her moan. He rocked into her, hunting her pleasure, gaining leverage by entering her low. She let out a stream of ragged, feminine cries, mixing like music with the distant rush of water and the dozens of songbirds all clamoring to be heard. The sound of her alone was enough to pull Spencer to the edge of euphoria. He closed his eyes and felt her cunt pulsing around his cock. This was as good as it got. There wasn’t anything better in the world.

  Chapter Two

  Jack Rothman rolled his sleeves down and retied his neck tie. Sunday afternoon or not, his father would expect him to look the part of the consummate professional. A stack of oversize papers dominated his retro, midcentury desk. Jack never really got the opportunity to admire the prized antique, which he had scored a few years ago at a flea market downtown; the entire surface was always covered with work.