by Brynley Bush
“Brat.” I bend my head lower and bite her nipple. She squeals and tries to squirm away, but I capture her face between my hands, holding her still. If I don’t sink my cock into her sweet pussy soon and claim her completely, I’m going to go fucking insane.
“I have something more specific in mind. I want you, Leila. Now.”
I quickly strip off my shirt and jeans, grabbing the condom I’d slipped into my back pocket in the car. She watches me with those luminescent, big blue eyes as I sheath myself. Then she licks her lips—slowly, provocatively, and completely subconsciously—and I about come undone. God, how did I get so lucky? I scoop her off the couch and she wraps her arms around my neck and snuggles closer to my chest. The feel of her in my arms is more than enough to make up for the pain that shoots up my hip. She’s all woman—luscious curves and warm, silky flesh—and some primitive instinct is awakened in me. I want to claim her, please her, make her unmistakably and unequivocally mine.
“Where’s your bedroom?” I growl.
She points and I follow the direction of her finger, depositing her on the blue silk covers as she pulls me down next to her. Despite her having just come three times, she’s as eager as I am, running her hands hungrily over my biceps, my chest, my stomach, and then down to the thatch of hair between my legs.
“I want to touch you.” Her voice is a whisper. She grabs my cock and it jumps in her soft but firm grasp. I’ve never been so hard in my life. If she moves her hand another inch, I’m likely to unman myself. And I’m not finished with her yet. I cover her hand with mine, stopping her. She looks at me questioningly.
“I may look like a god, but I’m only human.” She laughs softly, but she releases her grip on me. “I want to come inside of you.”
“Then do it, dammit!”
I move off the bed and stand next to it, looking down at her.
“Open your legs for me.”
Lust flares in her eyes as she wordlessly obeys. This feisty little kitten likes it when I tell her what to do. Stepping between her legs, I grab her hips and yank her down so her butt is at the edge of the bed. Then, pushing her knees up on either side of her head, I nestle the broad head of my cock against her opening.
“Tell me you want this,” I growl.
“You seriously want me to beg again?” She pouts at me adorably and I lean over to nibble at her slightly pushed out lip.
“No, sweetheart. I want to be sure you want this. That you want me.”
“I have never wanted anything more in my life,” she says fervently. “Please, for the love of God, fuck me now Knox. Or I can’t be responsible for what I do to that dick you’re so proud of.”
With a groan, I bury myself to the hilt in her, almost coming just from the sound of her lustful cry when I touch her center. I stop, looking down into blue eyes so deep a man could drown in them.
“You’re fucking exquisite, Leila. Are you okay?”
She nods vigorously. “Yes. Don’t stop.”
I pull out and slam back into her, the position allowing me to penetrate her deeply. She whimpers, her eyes darkening with need. I drive into her again and again until she’s wild with abandon, her fingernails digging into my shoulders as she urges me on. I move faster, my balls slapping against her ass each time our bodies connect. She said she didn’t want a gentleman, and I don’t make love to her like one. I fuck her hard, and she meets me thrust for thrust, her breasts bouncing slightly each time I pump into her.
I can feel her desperation, the clench of her muscles as she gets close again, her body tightly wound. We’re both slick with sweat, panting, frantic for release. She clamps her thighs around me and I can feel my own orgasm building as our bodies batter together. I angle my strokes to maximize her pleasure as I drive into her like a jackhammer, and she bucks wildly underneath me, driving us both over the edge. I stiffen at the same time the orgasm hits her, washing over her like a tidal wave that has her gasping and crying my name. With one last thrust, I let go completely, coming hard. Time stands still, and there’s nothing but Leila and me and the erotic symphony of our grunts and cries and sighs as we both ride the crest of intense pleasure.
I collapse next to her, watching her as she slowly comes down from the dizzying throes of sexual bliss. She clings to me in the trembling wake of the aftershocks that convulse her used and spent body, and I feel oddly protective of her. I pull her closer to me, suddenly craving the feel of her molded against me. She slowly opens her eyes and smiles at me. It’s a feminine smile of pure satisfaction and I kiss her full on the mouth, tasting the salty sheen of sweat on her upper lip with the tip of my tongue.
“I think that was a pretty good start, don’t you?” I say casually.
I can’t help but smile as her eyes widen.
Chapter Four
LEILA
I wake up to the sound of my phone ringing and blindly grope for it.
“What?” I growl sleepily.
“Leila? Are you okay? One of the girls said you didn’t show up this morning.”
Oh, god. Nana. Work. I was supposed to be at the bakery this morning.
“I, uh, what time is it?” I move and wince, the tenderness between my legs reminding me of last night, when Knox had made me come with his fingers and his tongue before fucking me so thoroughly that I couldn’t remember my own name, much less Henry’s. After a few hours of sleep, he’d woken me up with his mouth on my sex again. When I’d been squirming with need, he’d flipped me over, hauled me up onto my hands and knees and driven into me so deeply I’d felt him all the way to my core when we came together with great shuddering tremors. It had been hot as hell. Overall, I’d say the night had been a success.
“It’s almost noon. Did you stay out late last night?” There’s curiosity, tinged with hope, in her voice.
“Um, not really.” I’m technically not lying; I’d been home by midnight. But when Knox had finally left, the first light of dawn had been coloring the horizon.
“Were you with Knox? He seems like a nice boy.”
Half a dozen adjectives come to mind when describing Knox, but nice definitely isn’t one of them. He was as dark, sexy, and depraved as I’d imagined. In fact, the things he’d done, the things we’d done, went way further than anything my limited imagination could have dreamed up. And why the hell not? It was one night. I’ll never see him again.
“Leila?”
“No, I mean yes, he was…uh, nice.” I falter over the word. “We had a few drinks, that’s all. But he’s not my type. At all,” I add firmly.
“Oh, well,” Nana says with a hint of disappointment. “Are you sure you’re okay? You sound odd. Why don’t you take the day off, sweetie? I’ve let you work too hard at the café. Go shopping or hiking or something.”
I’m exhausted, deliciously so, and it doesn’t take much convincing for me to agree to stay home. I languish in bed for over an hour, my hand sliding between my legs as I recall each and every moment from last night. Knox had been a wonderful lover—self-assured but unhurried, generous but demanding. And in the end, I’d come and begged and screamed his name exactly like he said I would. And it had been incredible.
Eventually, I roll out of bed and contemplate what to do with what’s left of my day. Yesterday I’d told Nana I was ready to get back to my real life, and I realize that last night with Knox was the final chapter in closing the book on my past with Henry. I’m truly ready to move on, and that begins with looking for a job. I figure the best place to start is with my friend, Monica. As the assistant to Cordelia Brown, the managing editor of Bravura, arguably the most influential and popular women’s magazine in the world, Monica is privy to everything there is to know in the industry. If there’s a job in New York publishing, she’ll know about it.
“Leila!” she squeals enthusiastically when I call. “I miss you! I’ve been forced to hang out in the boroughs with Lauren and Audrey since you deserted me. When are you coming back?”
I laugh, suddenly nostalgic
for the hum and vibe of the city I’ve always loved. Colorado is beautiful, but I’m a city girl, and I love New York. And, I realize, I’ve missed my friends—getting dressed up and hitting dance clubs, and then meeting for brunch and Bloody Mary’s and Mimosas the next morning to recap the previous night. I’d let my friendships take a backseat when I was dating Henry, and I’m suddenly sorry for that.
“Soon. My grandmother’s doing much better now, and actually, so am I. I’m ready to be back. Baking muffins has been surprisingly therapeutic, but I want to be writing.” I sigh. “I just need to find a job. Do you know of anything?”
There’s a scraping sound on the other line and I know Monica’s out on the fire escape, smoking a cigarette. She quit three years ago, but allows herself one a day, and only outside. “It’s a crap time of year to look for a job. Everyone’s still in the bloody Hamptons. But I’ll keep my ear to the ground for you. And I’ll mention you’re looking to Cordelia, but you know how that goes.”
I can practically feel Monica’s eye roll on the other end. After three years of working for Bravura and Cordelia, she’s only gotten the most menial writing assignments, and her job at the high-profile magazine consists mostly of filing, answering mail, proofreading, writing headlines and photo captions, and walking Cordelia’s Yorkshire terrier. But she works for the most popular women’s magazine in the nation, and she’s banking on the fact that the experience she gets putting up with Cordelia for a few years will eventually pay off big in the way of a promotion at Bravura or the opportunity to slip into an assistant editor position at another magazine. But Monica and I both know a nobody like me with three years of experience at an alternative magazine with limited circulation would have to do something pretty impressive to get Cordelia Brown to hire her.
After I hang up with Monica, I email a few of my LinkedIn contacts and send out half a dozen resumes. It’s almost five o’clock when I finally, almost reluctantly, get into the shower, loathe to wash away the last remnants of the hottest sex of my life.
I’m just turning off the shower when I hear a loud knock at the door. I sigh. I wish my nana didn’t worry so much about me, or feel the need to hover like a mama bird watching her fledgling learn to fly. I love her dearly, but it’s actually going to be a relief to be back in the city where you could literally be dead for a week before anyone noticed.
I hastily dry off and wrap a towel around me before answering the door, determined to kindly but firmly remind her to call first next time.
All rational thought disappears when I find myself face to face with Knox. Fuck. How is it possible that he’s even more gorgeous today? Those liquid brown eyes rove over my body, naked except for the short towel wrapped around my torso, and I can feel my nipples tighten under his appreciative glance. Hopefully he can’t tell.
“Um,” I stammer, my mouth suddenly dry at the sight of his broad shoulders in a Coors T-shirt that stretches enticingly over his muscled chest. “I wasn’t expecting you.”
He arches an eyebrow at me. “Really? Could have fooled me. You look delectable.” He hooks a finger in between the towel and my skin, right where it’s securely wrapped just above my breasts. “Like a present just waiting to be unwrapped.”
His stunning gorgeousness, and the sheer virility of him standing so close to me, is much more intimidating when I’m sober. I take a small step backward as self-preservation kicks in. Knox Beckinsale cannot be interested in me. A man like him is undoubtedly used to having sex with women way more experienced and better at it than me. I was probably just his charity case last night. After all, he wouldn’t want to disappoint his grandma Rosie.
“I…um…Last night was fabulous, fantastic really. I mean, I usually can’t come once and four times was really, um, satisfying.” Shut up, Leila. He doesn’t need to know you rarely come. And did I seriously just call those mind-blowing, toe-curling orgasms satisfying? A sandwich is satisfying. Beating a level of Candy Crush is satisfying. The orgasms I had last night probably altered the Earth’s orbit.
“Five times.”
“What?” I look up, startled.
“You came five times.”
Oh god. He was counting? An image of that fifth time comes to mind, the feel of his thick, hard cock filling me so gloriously as I screamed his name while my sex pulsed around him, and I feel myself blushing furiously. His eyes are laughing, but I don’t smile back. I don’t want the reminder that there’s more to Knox Beckinsale than just his chiseled good looks, and I certainly don’t need to remember how much fun we had last night at the bar talking. I did unspeakable things with him because it was a one-night stand and I was never supposed to see him again. Now I need him to get the hell out of my apartment before I’m tempted to throw all of my pride out the window and do it again.
“Why are you here?” It comes out sharper than I’d intended.
He holds up my leather jacket. “You left this in my car.”
“Oh. Right.” I snatch the jacket out of his hand. “Okay then. Thanks for dropping by.”
“Are you okay?” His brown eyes are warm with concern.
“I’m fine. It’s just…Look, I appreciate you taking pity on me last night and helping me exorcise Henry. You undoubtedly have the most remarkable tongue on the planet, and I will probably never be able to sit on my couch again without getting turned on. Or sleep in my bed,” I add glumly.
Knox’s chest puffs up with masculine pride and he grins like a maniac, and I mentally kick myself for feeding his already mammoth ego.
I take a deep breath and soldier forward. “So, thank you. You did Rosie proud.”
His eyes narrow. “What exactly are you suggesting? That I had sex with you last night out of duty to my grandmother?”
I shrug. “Maybe. Or as a kindness to me. You know…kind of a mercy fuck. I did pretty much beg you to go to bed with me.” And then he’d made sure I begged for plenty more after that. Bastard.
Knox takes a step toward me and the flash of anger in his eyes has me taking a cautious step back. “Do you really think I didn’t want to make love to you? Did I look like a man suffering when your lips were wrapped around my cock? Do you doubt the sheer satisfaction I got from owning your pleasure or the way it felt when I sank into your sweet heat for the first time? Be careful how you answer here, Leila.” My heart is pounding at his words, or maybe it’s just that sexy dangerous look in his eyes.
I want to believe him, but I’m having a hard time. “You’ve already told me you can pretty much have any girl on the planet. Why me?”
“Because you’re a beautiful woman with curves that could make a man forget his religion. Because you look like an angel and kiss like a temptress. Because you’re the most responsive woman I’ve ever been with and I fucking love the raw power of making you come, and the taste of you on my tongue. And because you’re also intelligent and I can spend three hours at a bar with you having so much fun talking to you I don’t even care that I’m not going to get laid at the end of the night.”
I. Am. So. Fucked.
I stall, tossing the jacket onto the table by the door while I try to think of a clever response, but the motion loosens my towel and it falls to the floor, leaving me stark naked. Knox’s eyes darken appreciatively.
“Is that an invitation, sweetheart?” he asks, closing the distance between us. He cups my face and kisses me—hard—and a thousand tiny wings flutter in my belly. “Because if so, I accept.”
“You said it was a bad decision,” I say breathlessly as Knox backs me up against the door.
“It was,” he murmurs. His hot lips burn my skin. “But you are going to make one hell of a story, Leila. The kind I replay every night before I go to bed.”
Oh.
“You’re not my type.” My whispered protest lacks conviction since I’m grabbing his T-shirt and ripping it off. I brush my hands over his chest, marveling at the hard muscles beneath his smooth, tanned skin. He smiles and wraps his arms around me as he leans down to kiss
me again. I’d forgotten how intoxicating it is to feel a man’s strong arms around you, enveloping you entirely. His skin is hot against mine, and my nipples harden as my breasts flatten against his chest. With his hands cupped under my ass, he lifts me effortlessly, and I wrap my legs around his waist. We’re still kissing like we can’t breathe without the other, and when we finally come up for air, I’m pinned against the wall by his hard body and he’s fumbling with the button of his jeans.
“Your hip,” I manage as he reaches into this back pocket for a condom packet, opens it with his teeth, and adeptly rolls in onto his impressively stiff hard-on.
“Fuck my hip.”
He lifts me with strong hands, and I wrap my legs around his waist. Then he’s driving his cock into me, pinning me to the wall with each punishing thrust as his hands play with my breasts—stroking and squeezing and tweaking and pinching—and I think I’m going to go mad from the sheer sensation of it all. I ride him harder, desperate for the cataclysmic release I know he can bring me to. His big hands span my ribcage and he lifts me off his cock for a split second, then yanks me back down on it. I love the way his cock feels inside of me, filling me completely, leaving no doubt that for this moment, I’m completely his. He does it several more times, and each time he’s deeply seated in me again, I feel like I’m going to explode. He possesses me completely, dominates me, owns me a little more with each stroke. And I can’t get enough.
He reaches between us and presses his thumb lightly against my clit as his mouth covers mine, absorbing my cries of passion. He moves it in slow, maddening circles and I come undone, the orgasm exploding inside me like a firework, showering sparks of exquisite electricity across my nerve endings until I’m certain I’m vibrating from the charge.
His body stiffens and he grunts as he finds his own release. His teeth sink into the tender flesh of my shoulder as he comes. I hope it leaves a mark. I want the lingering physical reminder of Knox Beckinsale on my body.