by Emilia Finn
But really, how does one explain Sophia Solomon and her illegal ways in this town?
“But my accomplice ain’t happy.”
“She looks cute in your shirt.”
“She does, doesn’t she?” I bring my left hand down and stroke the inch of bare stomach where the knot in the shirt pulls the fabric up. “Soph, can I ask you for a little relationship advice?”
Ally growls. Like a pissed-off mongrel dog, she bares her teeth and snarls.
Soph merely laughs. “Sure thing, handsome. Though I’m not sure I’m an expert in the area. I’m married to Jay Bishop, and he’s just… well, I don’t even know what it is we have. Is it a relationship, or is it a hostage situation?”
“Well…” I hesitate. “Who’s the hostage? You or him?”
“Ya know, I don’t actually know. Perhaps our daughters. But he and I like each other, we hang out, and the sex is phenomenal, so I’ll probably keep him for now.”
“And there you have it. So if I’m seeing this chick, and I think she’s pretty fucking phenomenal in every way, how do I get her to like me back?”
Instead of growling, Ally’s eyes now search mine.
“Well…” Soph hesitates, like she’s truly considering my question. “Hmm… did you make her come yet?”
“No. She’s pretty set on consent, and she hasn’t given hers yet.”
“Fair call. Did you tell her something deep and important from your childhood? That often makes chicks soft. Not me,” she adds with a chuckle. “Don’t come at me with that shit, but most chicks would go gaga over it.”
“She knows everything about my life. She knows everything about my parents’ life. She’s my sort-of therapist, so she has access to everything.”
“Oh… your therapist. That makes things sticky. There are rules about that sort of thing.” She pauses for a moment, hums under her breath. “You’re probably gonna have to get her fired. Then the client/therapist thing is solved. Then you’ll know if she was saying no because of work, or if it’s because she genuinely doesn’t like you.”
“I genuinely don’t like you,” Ally murmurs and brings my eyes back to hers. “The work thing is a convenient excuse.”
“That was a lie,” Soph murmurs into my ear. “Just in case you didn’t know.”
“Yeah, I caught that.” I inch closer to Ally. Closer. Closer still until our breath mingles and her heart pounds against mine. “I’m gonna hang up now, Soph. I have a crime to un-commit, then a girl to get fired.”
Soph snorts and does something on her end – tapping keys, rhythmic typing. “I’ve just set the alarms off at the hotel across town. All available patrol cars will be heading that way, and they’ll stay there for the next hour until they realize it was me, at which point…”
“We’ll be done. Solid assist, Soph. Appreciate it.”
“No problem, Twin. Now ask your co-conspirator about Sonia and her man’s relationship.”
“Huh?”
“I said what I said. Ask her how they got together. You can thank me tomorrow.”
The line goes dead, and police sirens wail a couple streets over. Red and blue lights illuminate the sky, then the sirens grow quieter in the distance until we’re left in the silence once more.
Sliding my phone into my pocket, and leaning heavily into Ally’s space, I nip at her jaw, her cheek, her lips. “You done growling yet?”
“I don’t growl.”
“Ha,” I laugh. “I assure you, when you’re drunk, angry, or jealous, you growl.”
“And if I’m all three at once?”
“Then I have seconds to seduce you before you have me murdered and fed to the pigs. Tell me about Sonia’s relationship.” I lean in so heavily that Ally’s chest lifts and falls against mine. Her breath scorches my skin, and her nails dig into my arms. She doesn’t mean to mark me, but she’s nervous, and I’m too damn close. “Tell me.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say.” She turns her head away and presents me with her exposed neck.
So I take it, and catch her when my teeth dig in and her knees buckle. “Tell me about Sonia.”
“She met my great-grandfather when they were young. Teens. And then he went off to war.”
“Romantic story, but you’re gonna have to keep going.”
“He came home a few years later, but he’d changed. He wasn’t a boy anymore. But a man.”
“I’m a man.” I slide my tongue along the warm pulse point on her throat, and groan when a soft whimper escapes. She didn’t mean to let it out. She’s too proud for that, but sometimes shit happens, and now I have that sound to tuck away in the recesses of my brain to revisit later. “Keep going. There’s more to the story.”
“He had changed…” she swallows, loud and nervous, “because of the things he’d seen. So he needed someone to talk to.”
My grin creeps up. “Finish it.”
“She was his therapist. Unofficial, but still.”
“Fuckin’-A.”
I slam my lips against Ally’s and swallow her cry of shock. Her nails dig deeper against my skin, but she doesn’t push me away. Rather, she pulls me in and holds me close enough that the warmth between her legs turns to an inferno.
Poor old Chester has to bear witness to the things my tongue does to hers. To the way my hands slide along her luscious curves and down to cup her ass, and then they lift her, and we nearly topple Chester altogether.
My phone chirps again, but I don’t need to answer it.
“Take it out of the street,” I pant, and press my forehead against Ally’s. Our breath races, our hearts sprint and try to catch up. “Soph’s calling to tell us to take it out of the street.”
“She can see us?”
“Yeah. She sees all.” I pepper kisses along Ally’s jawline. Biting, suckling, painful kisses that make her groan and her thighs tighten. “Stop hiding behind the therapist thing, Ally.” I bend her neck and continue tasting. “Stop hiding because you’re scared.”
“I don’t live here, Luke. And I’m still young. I don’t want a relationship or a reason to not want to go home.”
“Whatever you feel, you already feel it. Sex or no sex, it’s already there. So whatever. We shouldn’t deprive ourselves of the best part.”
“That’s easy for you to say! You’re the eternal bachelor. You’re the one who has a reputation for bedding women and walking away without a single backwards glance. This is old-hat for you, but not everyone lives that way.”
I pull back, panting and breathless, to catch her eyes. “First of all, ouch. That hurt my feelings a little bit.”
“Luke, I—”
“But second, I’m the guy who can sleep with a woman, then walk away without a single backwards glance. And yet…” I nibble on her throat and steal another cry of pleasure. “I keep coming back to you. No sex, but I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“I don’t want a relationship,” she repeats on a cry. “I refuse to jump into something that involves my heart. But I also don’t want you to walk away like I mean nothing. Which means my head is completely messed-up. I don’t know what I want.”
“And that’s okay too. I’m usually the guy who walks, and the word relationship is scarier to me than dentist. But I can’t walk away now without feelings either. Which makes for a messed-up head on my part too.”
“So, what? We both go in knowing we’re indecisive idiots? That’s not how you build a solid relationship.”
I pull back and smile. “But I thought you didn’t want a relationship?”
“Ugh!” She throws her head back and growls out her frustrations, then shimmying down my body, she drops down to flat feet and goes around to Chester’s ass.
“What are you doing?”
“Pushing this stupid thing back to the ice cream shop. Then we’re going to have a sleepover at your place. Whatever happens, ha—”
“Forget him.”
I snag Ally’s hand and swing her away from the statue until
she crashes against my chest with an oomph. I start into a slow jog, that turns to a sprint, that turns into Ally’s wild scream and her hair flying in the wind as we race just a couple blocks back to my apartment.
Ally
Wildest Dreams
Luke’s hands roam over my body. Fast, rough, and so demanding that I barely manage to stay upright as we race up his stairs in search of privacy. I said no for weeks and weeks; I’ve said no, but now I’m saying yes, and I can’t find it in my heart to take it back.
Luke bruises me without remorse. He doesn’t treat me like I’m delicate, breakable. But instead, like I’m the strongest of our pairing. And that in itself is an aphrodisiac I had no clue would have the power to send my blood racing. We move up one flight, and then another, and as we go, our legs tangle, our breath mingles, and because he’s so strong and sure-footed, I use his mass and force him to catch me when I stumble.
I work all day long in heels and have no trouble. But racing upstairs in sneakers while my eyes are closed and my tongue dances with his, I need the help, the balance, the assurances that I won’t fall and smack my head on anything too hard.
My whole being – mind, body, and soul – focuses on Luke’s hands. He’s fast, sneaky, and smooth, so when his fingertips touch on something bundled with nerves, I shoot a foot into the air and come down again with a desperate cry for more. But while he’s able to perform magic and keep my attention focused solely on how I feel under his touch, he’s able to steer us, to get a key into the front door, and then to push me through the messy kitchen and into the living room.
“Uh… you guys ar—”
“Shush,” Emma’s voice cuts Rob’s off. “Don’t be a cock-block.”
“Don’t speak,” Luke’s mouth moves on mine. His voice is all mine to swallow down. “Neither of you. Don’t speak.” He leads me into the hall before he tears my shirt up – his shirt – and tosses it to the floor. Then his hands come to the back of my bra.
Flick. He’s practiced, smooth, and doesn’t fumble a single step.
Unlike me.
My hands shake, and I’ve yet to pop a single button. My lust makes way for doubt, and my mindless want settles to the side, allowing me to obsess over my own clumsy moves, and my worries of whether I can keep up, whether I can stack up and bring him pleasure that way I’m certain he’s accustomed.
But then Luke slams his door closed, and tosses me to his bed without any kind of gentleness. Fully clothed, he rushes into my space before I can get up, drops to his knees on the floor, and grabbing my thighs, he yanks me to the end of the bed so his nose presses against my clit and my spine arches up high enough to hurt.
“Luke!”
“I’m gonna make you scream my name a dozen times before you get to come, Ally. Scream my name so the whole town knows who you’re with.”
“God,” I groan and crush my eyes closed when Luke unsnaps my jeans and pushes the zipper down without ceremony. Did I wear nice panties? Did I shave? These annoying thoughts flash through my mind and insist on ruining this for me.
But Luke is stronger than my brain, I suppose. He reaches under my butt, grabs onto the loops of my jeans, and tears everything down – panties and all – and bundles it all at my ankles.
I lay bare, open, and completely exposed to this man whose eyes don’t leave my core for a single second. He works on my shoes, my socks, and then removes my jeans and tosses them to the floor. But he does it all without watching his hands. He watches me, he licks his lips, and when his hands are free, he takes no time before he touches.
“I wondered if you’d have hair here.” He runs the pad of his thumb over my clit, grins when I shoot up, and uses his other hand to hold me down. “I wondered about the color,” he grits out. “The length. The shape you’d shave it into.” His eyes finally come up to mine. “I’ve put a lot of thought into this.”
“You have?” I swallow down my nerves and try not to implode before he truly even gets to touch.
“Yeah. In session, when I’m supposed to be thinking about trauma or self-control or whatever, I’m actually thinking about your pussy.” He slides his thumb inside, and reaches up with his other hand to massage my breast when I cry out. “When you were sitting in that wingback chair, all fancy with your skirt suit and high heels, you were taking notes about my psychological state, but in my mind, I was thinking about fucking you.”
“Oh god.” I throw my head back and groan.
“I was thinking about the in,” he slides his thumb deep inside. “And then the out. I was thinking about how tight you might be, and while you were being your snooty self, I smiled, because I figured if you were that uptight at work, you’d be tight as a fuckin’ vise in bed.”
Pushing to his feet, but still working me with his hand, Luke climbs onto the bed and kneels between my legs. “And I wasn’t wrong.” He takes my mouth with his. My eyes remain squeezed shut, but he takes my mouth and swallows down my cry when my heart wants to explode.
And, well, my pussy too.
“I dreamt about you, Allyson. I dreamt during the day, while I worked, while I pulled screws from that pier, and while I sat in front of you in Sonia’s office.” He pulls his thumb away from my aching core, but then he grinds down and lets the denim covering his hard cock do the work. “Then I went home, and I dreamt of you some more. In the shower.” He grinds down again and swallows my cry. “I made myself come at least a dozen times since I met you.”
“You touched yourself?”
“So many fucking times.” Reaching back, he grabs the fabric of his shirt and yanks the whole thing over his head and tosses it away. Pressing closer to me, our bare skin touches, my bare breasts on his bare chest, and twin groans echo in the space between us. “And every single time, I thought of you in a fucking skirt suit.” Chuckling, he crawls down my body, and takes my pebbled nipple between his lips. When I cry out, he claps a hand over my mouth and silences me.
It hurts, the unintentional slap, but that only builds the electricity in my blood. The pain, the roughness, the demand. It coalesces in my veins and brings me closer to the edge of oblivion.
“I think it’s safe to say I now have a fetish that involves suits, clipboards, and reading glasses.”
“I don’t wear reading glasses.”
He chuckles. “In my dreams, you did. It was part of the look.” He bites down on my nipple and grinds down against the mattress. “Fuck, Ally. You taste like expensive sex.”
“Well… okay.”
I lick his palm when he refuses to move it away, then bite down when the urge overtakes my every brain cell. I don’t want to be a victim in what we do in here. I don’t want something to be done to me. I want to be an active participant, and as each moment passes and nothing humiliating happens, my nerves slide away and make room for my most desperate desires.
“Here. Let me—”
I have to work extra hard to push him aside. Luke is twice my size, getting close to twice my weight, so unless he allows it, I can’t move him anywhere. But he takes the hint, flips to his back, and when I follow and straddle his hips, he groans and thrusts them up so the zipper hits my clit and almost undoes me.
“I’m nervous.” I finally take a moment to study his broad chest, the tattoos on the balls of his shoulders, the deep valley between his pecs, since he so obviously spends a lot of time on his chest at the gym. “I’m so nervous I’ll do something weird and embarrass myself that I’m gonna be sick. So just…” I dive down and take his nipple between my teeth until he barks out a cry of pleasure. “Don’t make a big deal about it if I do something wrong.”
“You can do whatever the fuck you want to my body, and it won’t be weird. It’ll become my new favorite thing, I assure you.”
“So easily pleased.” I crawl down his muscular limbs, lower my feet to the floor, then my knees, then I go to work on the button of his jeans. His cock is so large, so full of blood that it presses up against the zipper and makes me nervous all over ag
ain. “I would die of humiliation if I hurt you with the zipper.”
Bursting out with a desperate laugh, Luke reaches down to help me. He blindly pushes the zipper down without catching it on anything important, then he lifts his hips when I go to pull the denim down. He’s so heavy, so wide and muscular that it becomes a sport to lower his jeans. My breath comes faster, my heart races harder, but then the denim makes way, and his purpling cock springs free and consumes my every thought.
Pre-cum sits beaded on the tip and tempts me down to taste. My tongue comes out, I lick my lips. My body knows what to do, but my brain screams no.
“Allyson?”
My eyes whip up to find Luke staring. His lips are thicker than usual, abused beneath his teeth as he works through sexual frustration. His pupils are wide and hungry, his jaw ticking from want.
“Yeah?”
He nods toward what stands so proudly between us. “Lick that off for me, Allyson.”
“Yeah.”
Permission granted, I dive forward and take his cock into my mouth so deeply that it hits the back of my throat, but the sound of me choking is drowned out by the sound of Luke’s pleasure. Without conscious thought, he thrusts up in search of more, he hits the back of my throat again so my eyes water, but my gag reflex relaxes, and my desire turns hungrier.
I close my eyes, and hum in the back of my throat, so when Luke’s hand goes to my hair and he becomes my puppet master, I merely go with it. I swallow him down, and each time he groans and tells me of his pleasure, the moisture between my legs turns slicker.
I’ve never in my life been turned on by performing this act, but now I search for those sounds he makes. The deep groans, the throaty grumbles. When his hand turns tighter in my hair, and my scalp burns, I work harder and revel in my power and the knowledge that I control him.
For this one moment, for as long as I pleasure him, I have complete control.
“Fuck, Ally.” He works me into a rhythm, slams my head down over his cock, and flexes his powerful thighs as I bring him closer and closer to the edge. “Fuck,” he pants and lifts his hips in time with my movements.