by Myra Scott
But before he could climax, Zane gently pushed me back. His cock slid out of my mouth with a wet pop and I looked up at him, disappointed and confused. He smirked down at me and pulled me to my feet, pushing me into the wall and kissing me hard. I knew he could taste himself on my tongue, and the thought thrilled me.
Almost as much as the thrill of Zane’s hands tugging his shirt up over his head, revealing his powerful, muscular chest. Then he stripped me, as well, tossing my shirt aside, but leaving my sleek black tie. He grabbed the tie, pulling me close as it tightened gently around my neck. Using the tie to guide me, he led me to the black leather couch in my living room and pushed me back down onto the cushions. He pulled off my shoes, then my slacks and boxer briefs, leaving me totally naked and exposed except for the tie around my neck. Zane grunted in appreciation as he looked me over.
“Jesus, Diego. You’re so damn hot,” he murmured, running a huge hand down my taut abdominal muscles. I held my breath as he wrapped his fingers around my cock and slowly, teasingly, began to stroke it up and down. I lifted my hips, pushing up against his touch, urging him to stroke me harder and faster, but he refused. Zane was in total control, and I was helpless underneath him.
I had never been so turned on.
“Tell me what you want,” Zane growled. “Do you want me to fuck you?”
CHAPTER ELEVEN - ZANE
“Si,” the Spaniard whispered in a heavy, husky breath that made my stiff cock throb and pulse for more. It had taken all my willpower to take my cock out of his mouth and keep myself from utterly letting myself go in him, but the promise of what was to come gave me the strength and patience I needed.
I stood up and scooped him up in my arms with ease. He was such a cunning, assertive, decisive man in the daylight that being able to hold him in my arms like this gave me a kind of power-driven thrill I could barely describe.
“Bedroom?” I snarled, asking for directions, and he pointed down a hallway. As I carried him down it, I felt his warm hands slide around my neck, and Diego pulled himself up to kiss me hard and fierce.
We stopped outside the door to his bedroom, and I pinned him to the wood, invading his mouth with my tongue. He wrapped his legs around my waist, and we ground our cocks together, both stiff and pulsing with need, still wet from our mouths. My balls felt heavy and tight all at the same time, and I desperately needed relief. It was taking everything I had to not just throw restraint to the wind right here.
“We’re never going to make it in there if you keep acting up like this,” I growled into his ear, taking a fistful of his dark hair and tilting his head back to kiss his neck.
“I don’t care where we are when you’re holding me like this,” he groaned, melting into my grasp.
I finally managed to get the door open and get us inside. It was a massive bedroom with a sprawling bed to suit it. The sheets were silk and as jet-black as the couch had been.
I set Diego down on the bed and fell in with him, putting my hands to his face and ravishing his lips. My teeth grazed them and pulled on them each time they parted. I was going to leave them swollen by the time I was done with them.
My lips peppered him with kisses as we moved back toward the center of the bed. My hands felt every inch of his dark skin, groping and feeling his muscles, taking pleasure in every way his body twisted.
My thoughts were still a haze. The alcohol was wearing off, but not enough to get us to snap out of this insane thing we were doing together as if in a dream. There was so much I wanted to tell him, so much of my feelings I wanted to spill, but I didn’t want to ruin a second of the passionate craze that was consuming the both of us.
“My nightstand,” he gasped when I gave him enough breath to fit a word in. I knew what he meant.
I crawled over to the edge of the bed and pulled the nightstand drawer open. Inside were condoms and a tube of lube that I cracked open and spread over my palm. Walking on my knees back over to him, I saw him massaging his own cock as he watched me sheath myself.
His shaft was beautiful, there was no other way to put it. Its dark, uncut, bulging crown was thick with need, and the way his hand ran up and down it with those smoky eyes fixed on me sent a shiver up my spine that made me want so much more.
I slid the lube on my cock and rubbed my slick hand up and down the length of my shaft until I was completely coated in it. At the sight, Diego groaned in pleasure as his cock twitched to his touch.
“On your knees,” I ordered him, and he looked up at me with wide, shining eyes before nodding feverishly and obeying my words.
He arched his back for me and gripped the sheets, presenting his round ass like a prize for me. I needed no prompting. My fingers grasped his cheeks, and I slid my cock between them, up and down, not yet penetrating him. I just wanted to feel him around me, and god, it was already electrifying.
“Dios mio,” he breathed when he felt just how thick my cock was against his ass. “I knew you would be thick, but—”
“Thought about this, have you?” I growled, squeezing his ass, and he turned to look at me with a fiendish smile.
“Don’t try to tell me you didn’t do the same.”
I grinned, and I could hold it back no longer.
Pushing him down and getting his back to arch up, I perched the tip of my cock against his ass, and I started gently probing it, taking my time.
He clenched at first, one last moment of nervousness running through his whole body. I stroked his hips down to his ass and thighs, reassuring him with my warm, strong grasp.
His body finally relaxed, and slowly, I entered him.
He gasped as I slid inside, and my body felt a shuddering groan erupt from it as I finally felt my girth wrapped in the warmth of his. Everything about it felt so right and so sinful all at once that a lesser man would have given all patience up and rammed into him hard and fast.
I took it slow, though. When we first met, that was just how we flirted—slow and steady, building up steam until it all boiled over into this, and that was how I would drive him to orgasm.
I massaged him with my cock, sliding in and out in a slow, steady rhythm, groping his hips with one hand and stroking his hair with the other. I wrapped some of his hair in my fingers and held him, just to show that I had control, and I heard him gasp as the motion brought me a little further into him.
“Tell me what you thought about me,” I commanded him, diving deeper by fractions of an inch with each thrust.
“I..I...ah!” he gasped, hardly able to form words as I pushed into him. I was massaging his prostate, rocking back and forth and feeling the round, hard tip of my cock pressing into him and stealing his breath away every time I rolled over that most sensitive spot.
“I want to hear it, Diego,” I teased him, never slowing down, never losing my rhythm.
“I thought about you bending me over the desk in my office,” he gushed, his voice weak with desire and the overwhelming feeling of me inside him. “I thought about what you tasted like, and how...how you…”
He lost his words again as I pushed into him, and the burn I felt from keeping up the motion was sweeter than anything I’d had in a long time.
“You’re so fucking tight,” I groaned, “I want to make it all come true.”
“H-headboard,” he grunted, pointing further up the bed, and I understood what he meant.
Carefully, so carefully, I moved him up to where he could push himself up on the headboard and get a grip, draping his muscular arms around the back of it and holding on tight.
The next time I pushed up into him, he let out a sharp cry of ecstasy.
I worked him up and down, and no matter how tightly he held onto the headboard, he was really just at the mercy of me and my cock. I made him my plaything, and every second of it was searing-hot bliss written all over his face. He started letting out short, sharp gasps every time
I pounded into him, and they were like bait for me, goading me on like a red cape in front of a bull.
Diego, that infuriatingly handsome, sassy bastard Diego, was mine, wrapped around my cock and so very close to coming.
The tip of my dick was thrusting right up against his prostate, and with every thrust, I drove myself closer and closer to my own edge. I gripped his hips with both hands as I worked, and I felt him clenching and relaxing all around me.
In the dim light of the room, I saw a bead of a tear at the corner of his eye as his whole body started to tense up, and he gripped the headboard with white knuckles as I felt him spilling over the edge.
“Aaaahhhhh, Zane!”
His ragged cry filled the air, my name on his accented tongue the last thing I needed to hear, and we tumbled over the cliff of our orgasms together. Hot white seed spilled onto his pillows, as we pulsed together. My jaw was hanging open, and I hugged him as close to me as I could, nails digging into him, utterly paralyzed as he was with the force of the orgasm that rocked us both.
I couldn’t count how many times my cock throbbed inside him. Time was one big orgasmic bubble that had just burst all over us. All I knew was that my cock felt white-hot inside Diego, and he was losing himself harder than he was used to thanks to me.
At long last, I felt a final spurt of seed empty itself into him, and I slowly worked my cock out of him before letting myself fall back onto the sheets. I carefully pulled off and tied the condom, setting it in the wastebasket near the bed.
Everything felt golden. I didn’t know how else I could put it into words.
Diego was crumpled in a pile on the headboard, breathing heavily. After what felt like an eternity, he laid back beside me, and we panted together.
On instinct, my thick arms scooped him up and pulled him close to me, earning a rosy-cheeked smile from him before I started peppering him with kisses. My lips brushed against his cheeks, felt his rough stubble, tasted his lips.
Indeed, they were swollen, and I was damn proud of the mess I’d made of this gorgeous Spaniard.
“Diego,” I moaned into his ear, pressing my sensitive cock into his side, “that was incredible.”
“I never knew the touch of a rival could be so sweet,” he confessed, half-laughing, tears running down his cheeks in a thin line. I touched the wetness, but he smiled and looked over at me. “It’s fine, I...I always do this after an orgasm.”
I couldn’t help the stupid grin that was crossing my face, and he gave an embarrassed laugh. “What?”
“You’re cute,” I said simply, and I silenced him with a kiss.
The alcohol was gone by now. The blood rushing through our veins and making us heady was inhibited by nothing but the lust we felt for each other. I reached down between his legs and felt his cock, and when he shuddered and smiled, I massaged it gently.
A little leftover fluid spilled out onto my hand, and I let out a deep, purring groan at the warm feeling. My face nuzzled into his and I kissed his neck up and down, and in that moment, nothing at all in the world mattered to me but Diego.
“So,” he finally said, looking over at me. “You got what you wanted. Was it everything you were hoping for?”
“Diego,” I said, taking his chin in my finger and thumb and kissing those swollen, full lips, “I meant what I said. I only choose the very, very best.”
CHAPTER 12 - ZANE
I thought the alcohol had worn off by the end of last night. I was wrong.
My head pounded when I woke up surrounded by an unfamiliar but wonderful scent, and the previous night came flooding back to me in a rush of memories. My body felt so relaxed and refreshed that I wanted to just stretch out and bask in all of it. But as my mind swam in those first few minutes of waking up with a hangover, the only thing that was clear was guilt.
I felt like my heart was sinking before I even pushed the sheets off me halfway so I could stretch. There was so much wrong with what happened last night that I didn’t know where to begin to be angry at myself.
Rolling my muscular form over in the massive bed, I was surprised to see Diego’s soft, smoky eyes already open and watching me. I cracked a smile.
“Watching me sleep?”
“The way your chest rises and falls is hypnotizing,” he said, his voice still thick from just waking up. Seeing him like this, his hair messy and his eyes sleepy, I wanted nothing more than to grab him and press my lips to his until we got at it again.
But I could see the look in his eyes, too—that telltale look that told me he felt the same way I did in more ways than one.
I propped my head up on one hand and watched his eyes rove over my rippling chest as the muscles moved and twisted around.
“Diego Castillo,” I murmured, my voice thick with desire. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Breakfast would be a good start,” he replied with a coy smile.
A few minutes later, the two of us were downstairs by the poolside. My headache wasn’t so bad that I couldn’t stand to be out in the sun, and with the aspirin starting to kick in and a bloody Mary already in my hands, I was feeling better already. Diego opted for just an ice water, but even though I could tell he was feeling physically better, the night was weighing heavily on him, too.
Both of us kept our eyes on the still pool water, the smell of chlorine filling our nostrils as we avoided looking away from it. Even when the breakfast we ordered came to us, it was a few moments before I could pick it up and start eating.
One thought had been in my mind the whole morning: what would my mother think of this?
The interviewer’s attempt at a jab resurfaced in my head. Mama’s boy. I grimaced. It was a poor word for it, but I did care deeply what she thought. I owed a lot of my success to her influence. All my life, my family’s reputation was what kept me going and striving for nothing but the very best in life.
The women in my family kept us all together, and right now in the Anderson history, that was my own mom’s role. She was the one who kept everyone in line and encouraged them when they needed it. She had always been proud of me and said I was the one she never had to worry about.
I got where I am today by being ruthless under my charming smile, but that didn’t mean I didn’t value family reputation. The exact opposite was true.
I ran a hand through my hair as I took a drink of my cocktail.
What the hell got into me that I would break down and make a stupid mistake like I did? Diego had said it himself—he was in a relationship.
That didn’t stop him, part of me told myself, but I also reminded myself that my actions weren’t just in someone else’s hands. I was responsible, and I chose to go home with him last night. There was no way around it.
The more I thought about it, the shittier I felt. On the surface, I was my usual self—my toned body stretched out in a chair, a thousand-mile stare in my blue eyes, my face hardened like a statue’s. Inside, I was eating myself alive.
“You regret last night,” Diego finally said, not looking at me but still snapping me out of my trance.
“What?” I started. “No, Diego—”
“It is written on your face,” he said, finally giving me a sad look, “and where you usually cannot stop talking, you have been still as a painting all morning, and twice as handsome as one.”
That got a smile from me. “I’m supposed to be the disarmingly charming one,” I teased him, and he returned a sad smile.
“Do you want to talk about it?” he offered, and I sat still for a few long moments, my jaw clenching and unclenching.
“We were sloppy last night,” I said. “At the club, I mean. We were in public and careless.”
He nodded in agreement, frowning. “Are you worried about something coming to the headlines? I assumed you were already out, because of that article last week, but…”
“Not o
fficially,” I confessed, and Diego’s eyebrows shot up. “It’s not exactly a secret. My parents know, I think, or they assumed. I never showed any interest in women all through high school and college, never brought anyone home, you get the idea. They haven’t really said anything, and I’ve been waiting for the right time.”
“And you are worried something like last night will be how they find out,” Diego finished, nodding in slow understanding. “That is a...difficult situation you have.”
“That’s one way of putting it,” I said, chuckling. I didn’t show weakness in the way I held myself, but Diego was sharp enough to know he’d picked up on a sensitive topic.
“Family means a lot to you,” Diego pointed out.
“Everything,” I said, leaning back. “Whatever happens, though, I’ll handle it. I always do.” I flashed a smile and added, “Just because I got my charm from my parents doesn’t mean I can’t use it on them, too.”
It was only half-true. Really, every time I got a boyfriend, I thought long and hard about how my parents would react to him. Would he be good enough to make Mom proud? Would he impress Dad? The two of them weren’t unsupportive—they never did anything to try and change me when I thought they picked up on the fact that I was interested in men. But this was a big deal, to put it simply, and I didn’t want them to think I was just fooling around out in life.
But those were my demons, and Diego had enough on his own plate.
“Tell me about him,” I asked Diego, turning to look him in the eye. Diego knew I meant his boyfriend. We couldn’t beat around the bush any longer. Diego took a deep breath before looking back to the pool.
“Alvaro.” His voice was gravelly, and he frowned. “A few years ago, I could have said so much, but now, I must admit, I struggle to find anything to say about him that would make him seem like the good man I thought I knew.”