Anything For Love

by Melissa Foster

  “We have woken up tangled up in each other every morning after a series of seriously hot and emotionally intimate nights. That qualifies you as my woman and me as your man. If you’re into sharing, you’d better tell me right now, so I can figure out a way to get you out of my head before we get in any deeper.”

  Her long lashes fluttered flirtatiously. “I like deeper.”

  He failed at stifling a growl, because, man, he wanted to be buried so deep inside her he could taste it.

  “Does that mean you don’t want to share me with Chris Pine or Hugh Jackman?”

  She giggled, and he swore there was smoke coming out of his ears.

  “Absofuckinglutely not. And while we’re on the subject, have you ever had a threesome?”

  She bit her lower lip, and an icy shock gripped him.

  “A foursome, too,” she said sweetly. He pushed up, and she tugged him back down. “With my dolls!” Laughter burst from her lungs, while the air rushed from his.

  She raised her hips, rubbing against him. “I like you all crazy hot and cavemanish.”

  “You’re going to be the death of me.”

  “But it’ll be a really fun death, won’t it?” She leaned up and kissed him. Then she wiggled out from beneath him, went up on her knees, and set her hands on her hips. “Ready, big boy?”

  She was practically wearing dental floss. He wanted to gnaw it off and feast on every blessed, beautiful inch of her, and she needed to ask if he was ready? “Oh, I’m ready, baby.”

  He reached for her, and she knee-walked away, waggling her finger. “Uh-uh. We need to work out this scene, not get lost in each other.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” She’d done this to him a few times this week, and every time they’d gotten so hot they’d nearly set the room on fire. He should be used to it, but he had a feeling there was no getting used to Charlotte Sterling. And not getting lost in her wasn’t an option. Aw, hell. He remembered what she’d said about working out scenes with Cutter. “Do you wear this when you work out scenes with Cutter?”

  An outfit like that could change Cutter’s view of her from pain-in-the-ass sister to hot-as-hell potential fuck buddy.

  “No. I mean, sometimes he walks in when I’m wrapping my head around things, but I think he’s only seen me in a teddy.” She tapped her chin, her eyes narrowing. “No, that’s not right. It wasn’t a teddy. He came in when I was writing about a heroine who lived at the beach, and I was wearing a bikini.”

  “Christ. Stop. I don’t want to know the rest.” She was enjoying torturing him far too much. Two can play at this game.

  He tore off his shirt and stepped from the bed. If she wanted to be sexed up, he was damn well going to sex her up so thoroughly she’d never even think about having another man’s hands on her—plastic or otherwise.

  “What are you doing?” she asked warily as he took off his boots and began stripping off his jeans. Her hot gaze raked hungrily down his body. “Beau…?”

  “If we’re getting in the mood, let’s do it right.” He picked up the feather tickler and silk ties and climbed onto the bed wearing only his boxer briefs. “Okay, how erotic do you want it?”

  “I…um…” Crimson spread over her cheeks, turning him on even more. He loved that hint of innocence. “I was going to pose you with the dolls so I can see the mechanics of the positions.”

  “Not happening. I don’t do dolls.” He brushed the feather tickler up her ribs and over her breast, and her eyes flamed. “Tell me about this Roman character. I thought you wrote erotic love stories, not just sex.”

  “I do,” she insisted.

  “True love doesn’t need threesomes. Your hero’s not in love.”

  “He doesn’t want it. Shayna, my heroine, does.”

  Beau’s chest constricted, wondering if that was a secret fantasy of Charlotte’s. “Then she doesn’t love him,” he said more forcefully than he meant to. “Or maybe you don’t know your characters well enough, and Roman just needs to up his game.”

  He dragged the feathers up her thighs and stomach and across her breasts. Her eyes turned dark as a forest, all shimmering greens and warm milk chocolate. He leaned in, taking her in a fierce kiss.

  “How erotic are we allowed to play, shortcake?” His fingers circled her wrist. “You never answered me.” He sank his teeth into her neck, earning a sharp gasp. “Is eroticism a secret fetish of yours?”

  “No,” she said too quickly. “Maybe on some level. I don’t know. Not Fifty Shades stuff, no. Definitely not.”

  Holding her gaze, he said, “Good, because hurting a woman is not something I will ever do, so if you want to be whipped or fucked like you mean nothing to a man, I’m not your guy.”

  “I don’t. That’s why I haven’t slept with anyone since college, and even then I slept with only two guys. In my experience guys were all about the deed, and I wanted more.”

  “You wanted the fairy tale, which is not exactly in most college guys’ repertoire.” He hated that she’d been treated that way, and he was glad she hadn’t slept around seeking what she probably wouldn’t have found.

  “But it’s in yours.” Her trusting eyes bored into him.

  “Only for you, shortcake.” The urge to make love to her, to show her how deeply and wholly he cared, gripped him. But part of the trust he’d earned grew from his respect for her career, and he didn’t want to lose that. Fuck. Dating an erotic romance writer was as torturous as it was fantastic.

  He drew back, brushed her hair over her shoulder, and said, “This is your livelihood, so let’s make sure we get it right.”

  “You’ll use the dolls?” Her eyes bloomed wide.

  “No dolls, but I promise we’ll nail it.” He trailed kisses over her mouth and cheeks, each touch of his lips earning a tiny, sexy gasp. “Close your eyes for me. Let’s get to know your characters.”

  Her eyes closed, and he gently tied the silk material over them. She clutched his arm, breathing harder. “Beau…?”

  “Don’t worry, babe. I’ve got you. We’re just getting into their heads so you can write the best possible scene.” He guided her down to her back, trying to keep his own desires in check with her laid out before him like a spectacularly stunning gift. In that moment, he knew he’d never give another man the chance to disappoint her again, and on the off chance she wanted to experience a threesome, he’d just have to convince her that he was better than any two men ever could be. “Are you okay?”

  “Uh-huh,” she said breathily.

  “Good.” He ran his hands up her stockings, following the path with his mouth, trailing kisses over her knee, along her thigh, loving the way she twitched against his lips.

  She touched his hands, stopping them from moving higher. “My scene starts with Shayna lying on her side.” She shifted onto her side. “Like this, with Roman behind her.”

  He moved behind her and began kissing her shoulder the way he knew she loved. “Like this?”

  “Yeah, just like that.”

  She ground her ass against his cock, and he gripped her hips, holding her tight against him, gyrating and thrusting in slow, precise movements. The breath rushed from her lungs, and he sealed his mouth over the curve of her neck and sucked until she was writhing against him, making those needy sounds he loved.

  “I assume the other guy would be touching her like this.” He slid one hand between her legs, pushed aside the tiny swatch of thong, and teased her wetness.

  “Yes” came out as a plea.

  “If Shayna is into him, wouldn’t she want to feel this?” He pulled his briefs off and guided his shaft between her legs.

  She moaned as he thrust against her, her ass nestled against his hips, his cock sliding along her slick heat, drenched in her arousal. He pushed his arm beneath her side and reached around, pulling down the strap that covered her breast, and took his fill. He devoured her neck, while he took her nipple between his finger and thumb and squeezed, pumping his hips and teasing her clit with h
is other hand.

  “Ohmygod, Beau—”

  “Turn your head this way,” he said greedily.

  He crashed his mouth over hers, thrusting his tongue to the same rhythm as his cock. But he knew she wanted the full-on threesome experience, so he played the game, giving her what she needed for her scene. He tore his mouth away and shifted her onto her hands and knees.

  “Beau, what—”

  “Threesome, baby. You wanted it. You’ve got to experience it all, right?” It was heaven and hell seeing her up on all fours in that sexy blindfold with her ass his for the taking. He pressed a tender kiss beside her ear and whispered, “Don’t worry, baby. If you tell me to stop, I will.”

  “No. This is good,” she panted out. “I need to feel what she’d feel in order to write it. I need to know what two guys would do.”

  He moved behind her, dragging his hand along her spine, down the line of her thong, and nudged her legs open wider. Then he kissed her beautiful bottom and lay on his back between her legs, bringing her sex down to his greedy mouth as he tugged that sliver of material to the side. Her back arched as he feasted on her.

  She clutched at the blankets. “Beau, Beau, Beau—”

  He took her to the edge, holding her there as a stream of sinful pleas flew from her lungs. He gave her what she needed, and she bucked and cried out, her sex pulsing hot and needy around his tongue. When she finally eased back down to earth, he moved up the bed and took her breast in his mouth, guiding her trembling hips over his hard length. He didn’t enter her. Holding her hips, he moved her along his hard length, quick and rough.

  “Angle yourself so you can feel it where you need it, baby,” he said, and went back to devouring her breasts as she tilted her hips, pressing her clit to his erection and rocking hard. He grabbed her ass, brushing his fingers between her cheeks.

  “God, Beau.”

  She moved faster, pressed down rougher, until her thighs flexed and shook. He clutched her ass harder, still sucking her breast. His fingers teased over her tightest hole, and in seconds she cried out, bucking wildly as her climax engulfed her.

  Her entire body trembled as he pushed up beneath her. He sat with his back to the headboard, helping her straddle his hips. Her skin was flushed, her breathing shallow. Her nipples were dark pink from his mouth. She was exquisite.

  He framed her face between his hands and kissed her deeply. “Still want to play?”

  “Yes,” she said shakily.

  He touched the blindfold, and she covered her hand with his. “Leave it on. I have to try to picture two men. Beau One and Beau Two.”

  He chuckled and kissed her again. “Beau One is pretty demanding. Are you sure you’re ready?”

  She licked her lips. “I trust you. Beau One can be as demanding as he wants.”

  He lifted her from his lap, spread his legs, and set her between them on her knees. Then he sat up higher and caressed her jaw. “I need your mouth on me, baby.”

  She went willingly, eagerly, as he angled his cock to her beautiful mouth. She kissed the tip with her rosebud lips, a sweet, sensual touch, and something inside him snapped. He wasn’t Beau One and Beau Two, and it felt wrong for her to need to feel that, even if only for fiction, which he knew was ridiculous. But that didn’t matter, and he couldn’t hold back his emotions.

  He lifted her chin and peeled the blindfold off.

  Her brows knitted. “What’s wrong? Am I doing it wrong?”

  “Hell no, baby. You do everything right all the time. I want to help you, but I don’t want to be Beau One and Beau Two. I’m one man, your man, and if you’re going to put your mouth on me, I need to see your beautiful eyes and know you’re doing it because you want to, not for research.” He felt vulnerable, laying his true emotions out between them, but he couldn’t play a game at this stage. “I’m sorry. I know that’s not what you anticipated, but…”

  Her jaw dropped open, and she blinked several times, as if trying to make sense of what he’d said. Or maybe she was that disappointed. Fuck. Did he screw this up for her?

  “Sorry. I just—”

  “Beau, that’s so romantic,” she said dreamily.

  “Just being honest,” he said, reaching for her.

  Her eyes widened, and the lusty fog in them visibly lifted, replaced with shock and elation. “Oh my God, that’s it! Thank you!” She kissed him hard and jumped off the bed. “Shayna doesn’t need two men!” She ran for the door. “She only needs one Beau!”

  “What the…?” He looked down at his raging erection, baffled, strangely pleased that he’d helped inspire a scene, and horny as fuck.

  CHARLOTTE STOOD IN front of her keyboard, typing as fast as she could, the sexy scene she and Beau had played out rolling through her mind like a movie. Her pulse was racing from Beau’s words as much as his touch, amped up by Fleur East’s “Sax” blaring from her Echo. It was one of her favorite songs, and it was perfect for this scene, given that it talks about waiting for someone to blow her mind. Holy mother of romance, Beau Braden. You have blown my mind.

  She hated bolting from the room, but she was afraid if she stopped for even a second she’d lose her train of thought. She hadn’t even taken time to wash up, which was why she was standing instead of sitting on her comfy leather chair. A damp thong made for a messy, uncomfortable situation. She should have known better than to let Beau get close after he dropped his drawers. Good Lord, that man could excite her with only a glance. The feel of his nakedness had set her entire body on fire. She had pretty much been a goner from that second on, but when he’d said he needed to see her eyes? Heart-stopping. The way he’d said it and the look in his eyes had turned her into a melty, tingly mess. And just as she was reveling in his sentiments, the scene had bloomed before her, clear as day.

  She stopped typing long enough to unhook the snaps on her garter and wiggle out of her thong. Beau appeared in the doorway, his heated stare drilling into her as she kicked the sliver of material aside.

  “Hey,” she said, and went back to typing before he distracted her too much and she lost focus. “Sorry I ran out like that.”

  “Are you?” he asked in a deep, lustful voice as he stalked closer.

  Her fingers moved over the keyboard a little slower. She felt his presence behind her before he moved her hair away from her shoulder and pressed a kiss there.

  “Yes,” she said, willing herself to continue typing. “I just had to get this scene out before it got too fuzzy.”

  “I knew you had to write.” His erection brushed temptingly against her ass. “So I brought the scene to you.”

  He tossed a condom packet beside her keyboard, and her hands stilled. His arms circled her waist, and he cupped her breasts. She closed her eyes, melting at his touch. But she had to write before she lost the scene, and she knew he could shatter her ability to think in record time. She inhaled deeply, trying to remain clearheaded, and set her hands in motion again.

  Focus, Charlotte. You’ve got this.

  The pep talk didn’t help. It was impossible to ignore the way he was kissing her neck, taking little sucks that sent lust spiking through her. His hands were everywhere at once, caressing her belly, her legs, her bottom, moving up her back, and tangling in her hair as his mouth worked its magic along all her pleasure points. She was breathing too hard, clenching her jaw to keep from begging him to touch her where she wanted—needed—him most, while simultaneously trying to convince herself not to want him.

  Kiss, kiss, nibble, grope, kiss.

  “Beau…” I want you, but I have to write. That was wrong on so many levels.

  “Don’t mind me, shortcake. You work. I’m just keeping the scene fresh in your mind.”

  He stepped away, and her heart sank.

  “Please don’t leave. I like that you’re here. I just have to get this out of my head.”

  “Don’t worry, baby. Leaving is the last thing on my mind.” He rolled her desk chair behind her. “You go back to writing. I promise
to be quiet.”

  Quiet. Great. Talking is not an issue. It’s your mouth’s other talents that are wreaking havoc with my brain.

  He was right behind her. She heard him moving around and bumping the chair. Then his hand glided along her belly, radiating heat everywhere. She heard the distinct snip, snip, snip of scissors, and the straps of her lingerie fell away, leaving her in only her garter, stockings, and heels.

  “Beau!” She spun around, struck speechless by his devastatingly seductive grin.

  “I’ll buy you fifty new sets of lingerie, but how can you write this scene if you don’t know how it ends?” He gently turned her by the shoulders, guided her hands to her keyboard, and said, “You just keep on writing, babe.”

  Writing. Keep writing. Ohmygod…

  She swallowed hard, her insides churning. Her mind ping-ponged between what she wanted and what she needed—Beau and to write.

  He stepped back, and cooler air brought goose bumps to her flesh. He gently clutched her hips, guiding her onto his lap, his arousal hard and insistent against her bottom. She tried to turn around, but he held her in place.

  “Uh-uh, you need to write, baby. Get your work done. I’ll just keep inspiring ideas.”

  She lowered shaky hands to the keyboard and stared at the monitor, but all she saw were Beau’s eyes when he’d said he’d needed to see hers.

  He slicked his tongue along her neck, then drove her wild with one openmouthed kiss after another. Her body began to tremble, and her eyes fluttered closed.

  “I don’t hear those keys clicking,” he said in a voice full of restraint.

  “Hard to concentrate.”

  “Oh, you want it harder so you can concentrate?” He rocked his hips. “Write, baby.”

  “Writing,” she said absently as he continued kissing and grinding until she was panting and breathless, her eyes closed.

  He clutched her thighs, spreading them open wider, his fingertips grazing her sex.

  “Oh God, Beau. I can’t think.”

  She pushed to her feet, leaning her palms on the desk, and her head dipped between her shoulders. She was shaking from head to toe. Her thighs were wet with desire. He was right there with her, both hands teasing between her legs, his mouth wreaking havoc on her hips.