Unlaced

by Jaci Burton

  He gave a full-body shudder.

  She worked just the tip with her fingers, using his own moisture to coat him. The head was smooth, tight, beautiful. She’d never had a man so large, but she was hot enough, creamy enough, woman enough to take every inch.

  She sucked her finger clean, then looked up at him. His irises weren’t even visible anymore, just deep pools of need.

  “Put it on.” She flicked the unopened packet he held.

  He startled as if he hadn’t even remembered it in his hand. “Yes, ma’am.” Ripping it open with his teeth, he plucked out the condom, and threw the wrapper to the floor.

  “Do they come in extra large?” she asked, with the most innocent of tones. “I don’t remember a size on them.”

  He laughed, choked it off. “You’re a tease.”

  Then he rolled the condom on and pushed his jeans low on his hips, past the globes of his butt. Dipping down, she slid her fingers through her own moisture, gathered it, then cupped his clad cock, smearing herself all over him for lubrication.

  “Fuck, that’s hot.” He gulped air. “Do it again.”

  She went deeper, then slid out to circle her clit. So wet, so hot, she slathered him with her essence.

  He simply turned primal. With a low growl from his belly, he shoved his hands in the open zip of her skirt, grabbed her butt, and hauled her high against him. Throwing her arms around his shoulders, she spread her legs over his hips. His cock nudged her pussy, and Dirk held her still a moment.

  “I’ll be slow,” he whispered, but his body trembled.

  “Just do it.” She bent her head to nip his neck, hard.

  Bracing her with his hands on her butt cheeks, he surged forward. She breathed hard to accommodate him. God. It was . . . there were no words. A little pain, her pussy quivered, heated, shifted.

  She locked her ankles at the base of his spine and squeezed. Lightly, then harder, forcing him deeper. “Fuck me, Ironman, just fuck me.”

  He slammed her against the door. Deep, high. Oh God. He touched something inside her no man ever had, and with every thrust, he shot her closer to the edge until she begged him to throw her over. And still he went at her, his breath in her ear, his scent all over her, every inch of her body taken hard.

  She came from the inside out, a burst of colors, fragments of herself flying out, falling, screaming, crying, until she couldn’t hear anything, see anything, and all that existed was this man’s body filling every crack and fissure inside her.

  God help her, once wouldn’t be enough. Even the whole night wouldn’t be. She’d have to come back a second time.

  Slumped on the floor, he cradled her in his arms, his cock still buried inside her. He didn’t apologize for taking her against the door. It was too hot for words. He’d give her tender lovemaking later. That’s exactly how they’d needed it, fast, hard, cataclysmic. There was time for the rest later.

  She hugged him tightly, her lips against his neck. Her bite would leave a mark. He’d wanted her to mark him. He was hers.

  “You a very bad man,” she whispered.

  Her warm breath along his skin heated him on the inside. His cock flexed.

  She pulled back. “Don’t tell me you’re ready again.”

  He grinned, his heart feeling oversized, bursting. “Who said I won’t win that bet to use all four condoms?” He stroked the tangled hair back from her face. “You are so beautiful when you come.”

  She blushed, the heat rising beneath his fingers.

  “You say too many nice things. They’ll go to my head.”

  “I’m going to keep saying them.” For a woman so gorgeous, she didn’t have enough belief in herself. He could give that to her. “Over and over. Tomorrow. Next year. The year after.”

  “The year after, I’ll be on the wrong side of forty-five.”

  She was so damn sensitive about her age. “Women only get better. Like fine wine.”

  She snorted, then rubbed noses with him. “Lucky you won’t have to test that theory.” She stretched. “Ooh, those muscles.”

  He wouldn’t let her change the subject. “I don’t care how old you are. I want the woman inside.” He tapped her chest. “It won’t matter when you turn fifty. My mother’s boyfriend—”

  She cut him off. “I know, he’s ten years younger than she is. But I’m not your girlfriend . . .” She held her mouth open as if she had something left to say, then tipped her head.

  He knew what she was thinking, what lay on the tip of her tongue. “It’s not just sex.”

  “No, it was great sex.”

  “And more.” His heart was in it. So was hers. “A woman doesn’t come like that for a man unless she has feelings.”

  She tried to wriggle away. He held her fast, stayed inside her, so she would feel him all the way up to her heart.

  “I have feelings. You’re a very sweet young man.”

  “Don’t patronize me. You just fucked me, and I don’t even know your last name.” He hadn’t realized it bothered the shit out of him that she’d never given her name. He could have asked Lorie, but that would be violating Margo’s trust. Besides, he wanted to hear it from Margo herself.

  “It’s Faraday. Margo Faraday.”

  He swallowed, hard. It bugged him that she gave her name now, her tone cold, as if it didn’t mean a thing. Hell, it bothered him even more that she’d called him Ironman while she was fucking him, as if he were a prize to be won for the night, instead of the man he wanted her to see him as.

  He took more seconds than necessary to answer. “I want more than tonight. Even if tonight is four times, I want more. Corny, but I want a relationship. A boyfriend-girlfriend thing.”

  Margo sucked in her cheek, chewed on it lightly. “I don’t think we should ask for more than is reasonable.”

  “Fuck reasonable.” His jaw worked, and he turned his head, neck cracking. “I mean that I think we could be good together.”

  She was sure they could be. For a little while. Until the world intruded. He was young, she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. “You’re twelve years younger, so I’m sure you don’t see it the same way. But at your age, that many years is too much.” She hitched herself a little closer on his hips. “What we did was wonderful, beautiful, and we can do it again if we keep it secret. But it’s not something we can count on.”

  “Your age doesn’t matter. I don’t care.”

  Yeah, well, he was the hot young stud. She was the old lady. “I don’t want to be gossiped about.”

  “Nobody will say a thing.”

  All right. He was only thirty-three and a man. But honestly, didn’t he have any idea what people would say? “You’re a celebrity. Everyone will talk. Not to mention my clients.”

  “You’re afraid, that’s it.”

  She tried to push away, but he wasn’t called Ironman for nothing. “I’m not afraid. I just know how to face facts. The world can be cruel.”

  “And you’re not willing to stand up for something you want.”

  God, he was so warm between her legs, so real, hard again. Her body tensed to take him, her chest fluttered. She wanted. Yet she’d never considered wanting him for more than this, what they’d done tonight. Anything else was always impossible. Only that seemed far too harsh a thing to say. “I’ve seen how people can be. They have the ability to destroy fragile relationships.”

  His cheek muscles flexed, ending with a flare to his nostrils. “You’re afraid to take a risk. Like you were with your boyfriend.”

  That sliced right through her. “You don’t need to be mean.”

  He grabbed her under the arms then, and rose as if she weighed nothing. His cock pulled free, and cool air rushed in where all his warmth had been. He set her on her feet.

  “Don’t you move,” he said, eyes glacial. “Don’t you leave.”

  Something in the way he pointed his finger touched her ire. “Don’t point.”

  He didn’t apologize, simply pinned her with a glare as he r
etreated through a door behind him. The light flipped on, a bathroom. He rustled, ran water, while Margo put her bra to rights, stepped into her panties, tugged her shirt in place, zipped her skirt, and grabbed her purse from the floor.

  He stepped out, jeans all buttoned up, the condom obviously tossed. “I’m sorry.”

  “Gosh, a man who knows how to apologize.” She didn’t like her own bitchy tone.

  He ignored it. “I want to give this thing a shot.”

  For a moment, she imagined. She owed him that. The thought made her warm, breathless, desired, special. But when she opened her eyes, she saw the stark reality on his unlined face.

  “Relationships like that can’t work, Dirk. Older men can get away with it, but not older women.”

  His features resembled Ironman in the ring, hard, tense. Yet his voice was the antithesis, low, barely a whisper. “Take a chance.”

  A voice screamed inside. Say yes. Do it. But she knew it would never work. “No.”

  She didn’t apologize. She merely found the doorknob with frozen fingers. He didn’t stop her as she shut it behind her.

  She didn’t start to ache until she climbed into the front seat of her car, started the engine, and headed down the hill.

  No. Just like that. He stared at the door even as the sound of her car faded away.

  He wasn’t worth taking a chance on, at least not for her.

  He slid down the wall and laid his head in his hands. Fuck. You couldn’t fight someone else’s insecurities, you could only fix your own. Her fears outweighed her belief in herself.

  No really did mean no. And he just had to live with it.

  Nine

  With only half an hour to go until the New Year’s ball dropped in New York, the house party was jumping with thirty couples and a few singles, lots of laughter, and a truly spectacular guy on the white baby grand piano. He knew all the old standards.

  “All right, spill. You’ve been moping all night.” Lorie wasn’t the kind of hostess who felt she had to hover over the caterers, wait staff, or her guests. She provided good food, top-notch wines and mixed drinks, pleasant company, and let the rest take its natural course. For now, she enjoyed a respite from the fun, collapsing in a corner grouping of chairs by the fire.

  Margo set her champagne cocktail on a side table. “I don’t mope.” Yet something was wrong. Less than a month ago, she’d been fine. Now she was . . . broken. Like a pinhead crack in the windshield that grew into a huge fracture right down the middle.

  Lorie retrieved the flute and put it back in Margo’s hand. “Your mother drove you crazy over Christmas, right?”

  It was almost a week later, and Margo had to admit she was just recovering. She’d gone to her mom’s in Napa on Christmas Eve and returned the day after. Being an only child and her father having passed away, it was she and her mom for a day and two nights. Ugh. “No worse than usual.”

  Her mother’s litany of do’s and don’ts rattled around in her brain. If nothing else, it showed her what she was in for if she dated a younger man. Yet she couldn’t stop aching for Dirk’s touch, his big hands, massive body, and adorable dimple.

  His words echoed. You’re just afraid to take a risk.

  Lorie kicked off her high heels and tucked her legs beneath her. “No, really, tell me what Mommy Dearest did this time.”

  “She’s not Mommy Dearest.” Nor was she the person Margo needed to talk about. In the days since she’d walked out of Dirk’s house, she’d realized the disservice she’d done to her friend by not trusting her with the truth. Lorie would never judge, and Margo needed to talk badly.

  “I never told you why Richard left,” she said. Starting with Richard was a step closer to telling Lorie everything.

  “I thought he met that bimbo Katrina.”

  Margo had allowed Lorie to believe Katrina came before the breakup. It was easier than the truth. “The problem was that he wanted us to do a few kinky things with another couple.” She’d said it. And the earth hadn’t shattered or the sky fallen.

  Lorie merely tipped her head, her nostrils flaring slightly even as her eyes widened. “What kind of kinky things? Do tell.”

  Margo glanced around. Their corner had gone unnoticed for the moment. “He wanted us to have sex in front of another couple. You know, they watch us, we watch them.”

  Lorie’s glance strayed to Carl for a moment. “What a naughty boy. Of course you told him no.”

  Margo fortified herself with a sip of bubbly. “I said yes.”

  “Get out,” Lorie whispered, leaning in avidly. “Did you?”

  “No. The couple turned out to be neighbors of ours.”

  “Oh my God.” Lorie let out a breath. “Have I met them?”

  “No. And I put the kibosh on the whole thing.”

  Lorie gave her a sly smile. “But you would have done it if it wasn’t the neighbors?”

  Honestly? “It seemed pretty exciting at first.”

  “Aren’t you full of surprises.” Lorie tapped her chin with her champagne flute. “And Richard dumped you just for that?”

  He dumped her for the same reason Dirk had let her walk out the door. Because she wasn’t willing to take a risk. Any risk. “He said the neighbors were an excuse. That I’d never want to try anything that added a little pizzazz.”

  “Honey, I say good riddance to him. If he didn’t accept you the way you are, then he wasn’t worth it.” She patted Margo’s hand. “But why didn’t you tell me all this?”

  Margo didn’t have the right words.

  “Oh my God, you’d thought I’d disapprove of you. Me, your best friend.” Hurt glittered in Lorie’s eyes.

  “I didn’t approve of myself even thinking about doing it.”

  “You need to lighten up.” Lorie lowered her voice. “Once, Carl made me come in a restaurant.” She widened her eyes. “He put his hand up my skirt under cover of the tablecloth.”

  “You’re kidding.” Margo knew Lorie wasn’t straitlaced, but she’d never have imagined something like that.

  Biting her lip, Lorie looked at Carl once more, a gleam in her eye. “It was the hottest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

  Dirk was the hottest thing Margo had ever done. He was the reason she’d started the confession. “You remember that ad you had from your brother’s friend?”

  “Zach’s friend?” Lorie looked at her a moment as if the question didn’t even compute.

  “Dirk? He wanted a model?” Margo prompted.

  Lorie tucked her chin and frowned. “Yeah. Okay.”

  “Well, I answered his ad.” She could hear her heart beating in her ears waiting for Lorie to say something, anything.

  Lorie just stared before finally answering. “I don’t get it.”

  It was so beyond comprehension that Lorie couldn’t even fathom it. Lord. Margo had to spell it out. “I modeled for him”—pause, heart beating faster, flush creeping up her skin—“erotic photos.”

  Gradually, a smile kicked up the corners of Lorie’s mouth. “You naughty little girl.” She laughed. “Good for you.”

  “Good?” Margo gaped. “He’s the same age as your brother.”

  “So? It’s not like he’s jail bait.” Lorie tipped her head. “Did you have sex with him?”

  And when Margo nodded slowly, Lorie giggled, then glanced at Carl. “Don’t give me away, but I’ve always thought Dirk was hot. All those muscles.” She shivered dramatically.

  “His hands,” Margo whispered. God. Lorie didn’t freak. She actually approved. “Why didn’t you mention he was some wrestling star?”

  “Because I didn’t have a clue you were interested.” Lorie sighed. “But you could have told me what you intended. I’m not your mother, you know.”

  “I should have let you know what I was thinking. I’m sorry.” Then Margo told her best friend the whole story. It took the entire glass of champagne. “Now he wants to date me.”

  Lorie signaled a waiter for refills. When he left, she cli
nked glasses. “A younger man, it’s better if you just have sex with him.” Then she jutted her chin out. “Isn’t it?”

  Margo had been going round on that issue. “He pretty much said it was all or nothing.” Either she was his girlfriend. Or she wasn’t.

  Lorie shook her head. “Doesn’t he see it can’t last?”

  Margo knew why she’d told Lorie the truth. She wanted someone to validate what she wanted. Her heart plummeted when she didn’t get the answer she craved. “He seems to think it can.”

  “You know how important your image is to your business. He can’t expect you to just throw all that away.”

  Yes, he could. Which didn’t seem quite fair. He wasn’t the one they’d hold up to ridicule.

  “I mean, he is a celebrity.” Lorie wrinkled her brow. “Even if it is that wrestling stuff.”

  Margo itched to defend him. Wrestling wasn’t stuff. Just as his photography wasn’t a mere hobby. But Lorie was right about everything else. He’d have groupies and paparazzi following him. Margo would be a laughingstock.

  “You’re saying all the things I’ve been telling myself.” Yet she wanted him so badly that she had trouble sleeping, eating, getting up in the morning, working . . .

  Lorie patted her knee. “You’ll get over it, hon. The right guy is out there, someone you have more in common with. Dirk’s a big old sweetie, but . . .” She held her palms out in a you’ve-gotta-know-what-I-mean gesture.

  “You’re right.” Yet it left her with that broken feeling inside. “One or both of us would get hurt in the end.”

  “Yeah. Better to nip all that pain in the bud.”

  But what if it didn’t hurt? What if things worked out? Like Betsy and her lover Orson. At that age, people merely said, “More power to you, baby.”

  “Besides, your mother would have a stroke and a heart attack at the same time,” Lorie added, like icing on the cake.

  Her mother would never in a million years approve of Dirk or his mother, Betsy. But Margo’s mother was also alone. She’d likely die that way, too, with her high standards, her highbrow friends, her orderly house, and never a whisper of gossip.