Private Pleasures

by Jami Alden

  He slid his hand inside the front of her panties, felt a rush of moisture soak his hand as he parted the plump, wet lips, and his cock throbbed hard in response.

  He slipped and slid through her wetness, the feel of her making his mouth water, craving the taste of her. He pushed her panties down her legs and buried mouth between her legs, licking, sucking, stroking. Using every secret he'd learned about her body in the past weeks to push her higher.

  He could feel her body stiffening against him, knew from the cadence of her cries how close she was. He felt her fingers tightening in her hair, but instead of pulling him closer, there was a sharp sting as she tried to pull him away.

  "What is it?" he asked, a little dazed.

  "Inside me," she said, urging him up with another tug of his hair. "I want you inside me when I come."

  Drew almost blew it right then, as her words seemed to travel straight to his cock and make it throb almost painfully.

  "I love feeling you inside me," she continued in that hot, sultry whisper that never failed to drive him wild. "So big and hard and filling me up while I come around you."

  Drew reared up and started for the bedside table. But as he got onto his knees the tip of his cock brushed her drenched sex, the sensation of her slick, wet lips against the ultrasensitive head enough to chase every conscious thought from his brain.

  Her hips rocked up, and he was pushing inside, stretching past the initial resistance. He looked down, watched the thick—bare—head disappear inside of her and clenched his jaw as his entire body began to tremble.

  Wendy let out a little cry and rocked her hips, urging him deeper. He gritted his teeth against the need to surge all the way in.

  "Please," she moaned, her hands coming down to clutch at his ass as her hips lifted off the bed. "All the way inside, I need you all the way inside."

  "Baby, I don't have a condom on yet," he protested, though he couldn't resist sinking in a couple of more inches. His eyes rolled back in his head at the sensation. Christ, he'd thought sex with Wendy with a condom was mind-blowing. But the feel of her, so hot, so tight, gripping him like a slick little fist with absolutely nothing between them....

  His body started to shake with the effort not to come. "I need to—" he said through gritted teeth.

  "I know," she said but didn't unlock her legs from around his waist or remove the fingers that were digging into his back. "But it feels so good, you're so hot and hard inside me. Just a little more."

  He looked up, and his eyes met hers, a hot pleading look in them like he'd never seen. The kind of look that inspired him to rob the Tower of London and bring back the crown jewels if she wanted them. Still, some tiny thread of common sense reminded him that this behavior could lead to the kinds of consequences neither of them were prepared to deal with. "This is risky," he pointed out, "and you know it."

  "Do you have something I need to worry about?" she challenged.

  "No," he said, barely able to grunt out the word when every cell was focused on not throwing all good sense to the wind and fucking her as hard and deep as she wanted.

  "Neither do I," she said, leaning up to nip at his chest, her legs pulling him deeper.

  "The hell you don't. Unless you've got some kind of back up plan, you're risking creating a problem both of us are going to have to deal with."

  He saw in her eyes the second reality dawned, and she reluctantly loosened her legs from his waist. He pulled out, grimacing at the pleasure that was so intense it bordered on painful.

  As he retrieved a condom from the drawer ensuring there would be no unwelcome surprises in their future, his mind flashed down the other path. What if he hadn't stopped them? What if he'd come inside her, made her pregnant.

  Tied her to him with the unbreakable bond of a child.

  The thought was so shocking it made his body run cold for an instant. At his own asinine thought process.

  But mostly at his split second initial realization that the idea of a future that included having a baby with Wendy would be all too easy to envision.

  "What is it?"

  He startled at Wendy's puzzled voice and the soft stroke of her hand down his arm and realized he was sightlessly staring at the foil wrapped condom and had been for several seconds.

  Instead of confessing the shocking turn of his thoughts, Drew hurriedly donned the condom and pushed her back against the pillows. Without hesitation he covered her and positioned himself at her entrance. He thrust hard, sliding all the way home with one drive of his hips. Needing to lose himself in her, the only thing that could block out the insane thoughts of her and a him and a future they would never have.

  Her cries, her demands for faster, harder, drove him crazy. Holding her hips still for his thrusts, he sank as deep as he could possibly go, and even that wasn't enough. He took her mouth, tasting her cries in his mouth as they came in rhythm with his thrusts, but it was like he couldn't get close enough, deep enough. Like he'd never be satisfied until she absorbed him into her skin.

  He could fuck her every day from now until the world ended, and it would never be enough.

  And she was just as wild as he was, clutching at him, crying out as her pussy clenched around his cock, like her body was trying to suck him deeper. He loved that he could do this to her, that under her carefully composed professional image was a wild sex goddess waiting to break free, just for him.

  Only for the next two days, an evil little voice reminded him.

  The thought only made him harder, more determined to drive her over the edge with pleasure, make her come so hard she broke with reality. To fuck her so well that no matter who came after, she'd know there was no man who could ever make her feel as good as he could.

  He could feel her tightening against him, feel her breath hitch. He bent his head and took her nipple in his mouth and sucked hard. That was all it took. For a split second she froze against him, her body stiff as her mouth opened on a silent scream.

  He could feel her pulsing around him and kept up his steady rhythm until her cries had faded to whimpers and her hands fell back, palms up against the pillows as though in surrender.

  He pulled her legs around him, needing to feel their length wrapped around his waist. He rested his palms on hers and threaded his fingers through hers, took her mouth, needing to feel connected everywhere, not just their sex. He rolled his hips in shallow thrusts, staving off his own orgasm as long as he could, needing to draw this out. Conscious that the clock was fast ticking on their time together. But the feel of her, her pussy so tight and hot around his cock, her smooth skin sliding against hers, the taste of her on his tongue, it was all too much. And too soon, he felt his own climax crash over him.

  For the first time in his life a climax was bittersweet, the mind-numbing pleasure tinged with sadness as he grimly acknowledged that this was among the last times he'd get to be with her like this.

  As she curled into his side with a satisfied sigh, Drew did his damnedest to chase the melancholy thoughts away. There was no use throwing himself a pity party about the loss of a relationship that never was, a future together that was never even on the table. In the past, he'd been a master at living in the moment, focusing on the here and the now to accomplish what needed to get done. Not allowing doubts or regrets or what ifs to creep into his consciousness.

  He forced himself to do that now. To focus on the feel of her weight against him, the smoothness of her inner thigh against his as her legs tangled with his. The silky perfection of her skin under his palm as he slid it down her back.

  The soft press of her lips against his neck as she cuddled against him. For once not getting up immediately out of bed to shoo him home.

  They'd made their choices and this was all they were going to have. And he'd be damned if he'd waste one minute of it second guessing himself and wondering what might happen if only things were different.

  Chapter 13

  Wendy wasn't sure how long she lay in Drew's arms, listening to th
e steady beat of his heart before she stirred. God, it felt good, just lying here with him, the warmth of his skin seeping into her, his steady breathing lulling her into relaxation so profound it was like a trance.

  So good. Dangerously so.

  The thought spurred her into action. She pressed a kiss to the hard wall of his chest, loving the low rumble of pleasure elicited by her touch as she sat up next to him. "While I can easily imagine not moving from this bed for the next forty-eight hours, I think we'd better eat something. Based on what just happened, we're going to need a lot of energy."

  Drew let out a low chuckle. "You may be right. If we're not careful, they'll find our wasted, naked bodies tangled up."

  "Fucked to death," Wendy said matter of factly. She swung her legs over the side of the bed.

  "Not a bad way to go," Drew mused. His hand left a tingling path on her hip as he gave it a gentle caress.

  "Still, I think I'd like to live to see my thirtieth birthday." She strode to the bathroom, conscious of her nudity at Drew's hot, unabashed stare. "Just give me a few minutes to freshen up and we can go grab something."

  By the time she finished showering off, the bed was empty and her suitcase was laid flat on the bench at its foot. Wendy quickly pulled on a pair of jeans and a sweater, ran a brush through her hair and did a quick pass with the makeup. She did a quick assessment in the mirror. Nothing fancy, but nothing around Tahoe was what she'd call fancy.

  She followed a clanging noise to the kitchen, which featured slick stone counters and a professional looking range.

  There was a wrapped package and several bags of produce on the counter. Drew was busy cutting something that looked like potatoes into little wedges.

  "What are you doing?" she asked.

  Drew paused in his cutting and cocked an eyebrow. "Making dinner?"

  "You can cook?" Wendy didn't know why it surprised her so much, but on the rare occasions she and Drew had shared a meal, it had always been at a restaurant or takeout. And he was both busy, not to mention loaded, so if he ate at home she assumed he called in a professional chef.

  "I do all right," he said. She watched as he poured the potatoes into baking dish and drizzled them with olive oil. Salt and pepper were next, and then he studied the spice cabinet for a few seconds before he saw what he wanted.

  "I had no idea."

  He shrugged. "There's probably a lot about me you don't know."

  There was something in his voice—anger? frustration?--as he said it.

  "Look at you, you're like one of those cooking show chefs," Wendy chuckled as he poured some rosemary into his palm and sprinkled it on the potatoes before putting them in the oven.

  "It's just steak and potatoes," he shrugged as he unwrapped the steaks and put them on a plastic board.

  "I think the last time I cooked a meal it was boiled pasta. And it turned out mushy," Wendy said as she helped herself to a glass of wine from the open bottle on the counter. "So I'm already impressed."

  Drew's teeth flashed white in that little half smile that never failed to make her heart jump. "You might want to reserve judgement until after you've tasted something."

  "Since I have yet to find anything you're not good at, I'm pretty confident I'll be well fed." It was true. As with everything he did, Drew moved through the kitchen with an easy confidence, seasoning the steak and giving the potatoes a little stir.

  It wasn't the first time a man had made dinner for her, and it had almost always ended in disaster. In an effort to impress her, her dates inevitably chose something way too difficult to cook. Like the guy she had dated just out of law school, who hadn't read the recipe for osso buco thoroughly and didn't realize it needed to braise for four hours. By the time the meal was ready it was midnight, and Wendy had already gorged herself on chips and salsa.

  And even when the food turned out okay, she'd always found those dates incredibly stressful, involving a lot of frantic checking of the recipe, sweating, and a healthy amount of swearing interspersed with increasingly hostile refusals of her offers to help.

  But Drew looked as at home in the kitchen as he did anywhere else. "I hope you're okay if the steak isn't grilled," he said rummaging through the cabinets until he found a cast iron pan that looked like it weighed half a ton. "I forgot to buy charcoal when I went to the grocery store today."

  Wendy turned her nose up in mock distain. "I'm sorry, but I won't eat anything but steak seared over charcoal that comes from organic hickory trees raised from seedlings by virgins."

  Drew grabbed her around the waist and yanked her to him. "Then I guess I'll have to find some other meat to satisfy you."

  Wendy wiggled her hips and pressed herself more firmly to the burgeoning erection she could feel behind the fly of his jeans. "I don't know. I takes a lot to satisfy me."

  "Lucky for me I love a good challenge," he growled and gave her a hot, hungry kiss. "Now go make the salad." He released her and pointed to the bags of lettuce and other assorted vegetables on the counter.

  She started over, giving a squeal as Drew gave her a little swat on the ass. She didn't know what it was, the beautiful setting, the wine, the man, but she felt a happiness tonight, a quiet contentment that she hadn't felt in a very long time.

  While Drew grilled the steaks and made homemade salad dressing, Wendy finished making the salad. Ten minutes later they sat down to a beautiful, simple meal that had Wendy salivating.

  She took her first bite of steak and wasn't disappointed. "Oh, my God this is delicious," she said, rolling her eyes in delight.

  "I aim to please in all things," Drew said with a grin as he cut into his own steak.

  "And you do very well," Wendy said, lifting her glass of wine and clinking it against his. There was silence for several minutes as they both enjoyed their food. "Seriously, I would have pegged you for the kind of guy who would have a private chef, or at least do some kind of meal delivery service. Where did you learn to cook like this?"

  Drew shrugged. "I taught myself out of necessity. My Dad was big on home cooked meals—didn't believe in store bought crap and we couldn't afford it anyway. Since my mom split, it was up to me. And if I didn't want my ass beat when my dad got home, I had to learn to cook stuff he liked."

  He said it so deadpan, it took a few seconds for his words to sink in. Wendy set her fork down. "Wow, that must have been rough."

  He shrugged again and turned his attention back to his plate. "It wasn't that hard. I picked up a couple of cookbooks and watched some cooking shows on PBS. Dad mostly liked meat and potatoes so that's kind of my strong suit," he said, gesturing at the dishes in front of him.

  Wendy reached out and covered his hand with hers. "I'm not talking about the cooking, and you know it."

  He looked up. "Life happens," he said, his gray stare hard and impenetrable, daring her to feel sorry for him. He casually pulled his hand away. "You deal with it."

  She turned her attention back to her food but couldn't keep herself from sneaking glances across the table at him.

  "What?" he asked after several moments.

  Wendy swallowed the bite of steak she was chewing. "I don't know why it's just dawning on me, but even though we've been naked together a lot, I don't really know that much about you."

  He looked at her across the table, his gray eyes carefully blank. "You've been up front about what you wanted all along, and it wasn't a lot of sitting around getting to know each other."

  Wendy felt the heat rise in her cheeks. "I know. It's just, up until recently I had this idea of you in my head. And I'm realizing that a lot of it was completely wrong."

  Drew leaned back in his chair and picked up his glass of wine. "Oh yeah? Like what?"

  Her brain was flooded with a thousand different things. How she'd never realized how funny he was, the kind of sarcastic dry wit she loved. Or how considerate he could be, doing things like cooking her this meal.

  But mostly, she was surprised that despite what she'd thought of him fo
r the last five years, Drew Walker would someday make a great partner for one very lucky woman.

  There was no way she was going there tonight, so she shrugged and said, "Like, how you grew up. I knew you didn't come from privilege—the press loves to play that up."

  He rolled his eyes. "Yeah, the scrapper, I think one reporter called me."

  "But I had no idea about your mom leaving, or your Dad abusing you—"

  He held up a hand to cut her off. "It wasn't like that. My dad was just old school. And with my mom out of the picture, he knew he'd have to work double time to keep me in line. Maybe he overcompensated a little."

  Wendy didn't say anything, but imagining him as a quiet, intense little boy who lived in fear of his father’s fists made her feel like a boulder had taken the place of the steak in her stomach.

  "What happened to your mom?" she asked.

  "Don't know," he said curtly.

  "Do you want to know?"

  "No," he said and abruptly cleared their plates.

  "I'm sorry," she said, following him to the sink. "I don't mean to bring up stuff that upsets you."

  "It doesn't upset me," he said, but the tension in his broad shoulders as he rinsed the plates said otherwise. He loaded the dishes in dishwasher, and as he straightened, he caught her in his arms and took her mouth in a hard, hungry kiss. "It's that I don't want to waste one second of this weekend with you thinking or talking about someone who doesn't even matter." He kissed her again, more softly this time. "Now we can spend the rest of the night talking about my non-existent mommy issues or we can go soak in the hot tub while you let me do all kinds of dirty things to you."

  She laughed and wound her arms around his neck, letting it go as he led her to the sliding glass doors that opened onto the deck. She helped him pull off the cover of the hot tub and followed his lead as he stripped off his clothes.