by Callie Hart
“That sounds promising.”
“He’s actually not as over protective as you might think. He normally minds his own business, lets me do my thing.”
“So he didn’t vet the guy you just went on a date with then?”
She laughs. “You seem quite preoccupied with the fact that I just went on a date, Mason. Does it bother you?”
“Maybe a little. Shouldn’t it?”
She shakes her head. “I go on lots of dates with Richard. I like talking to him. He has lots of interesting things to say.”
Richard. Sounds like an old guy name. Don’t meet many dudes our age with a name like Richard. “So you’re dating a Dick, huh? I’m sure he’s a thrill a second.” I can’t help but be petty. Kaya ushers me through the apartment—it’s practically empty. The top of a large pine dining table is propped up against the wall beside the television, in three pieces. Fragments of a shattered chair lies on the floor next to it. It’s a miracle the TV screen is in tact, given that almost every other stick of furniture in the place is damaged in some way.
“Richard’s my college professor. We have dinner and like to talk once a week,” Kaya says.
“Ah. You have a student/teacher relationship.”
“We’re physically and emotionally attracted to one another, but we only fulfill our desires to be intellectually intimate with one another.”
“So you don’t fuck.”
Kaya smiles, her red lips upturning in a very pleasant way that makes me think of kissing her. “No. We don’t fuck.”
“Why not?”
“Because it wouldn’t be ethical. He’s in a position of power. I’m his student. It’s against the University’s rules for him to physically engage with anyone he teaches.”
“But you want to sleep with him?”
“I want to sleep with you, Mason. I occasionally want to sleep with other people, too. I have a high sex drive. That doesn’t mean I actually do it, though.”
“Maybe you should.” I’ve always believed women should be able to sleep with whoever the fuck they want like guys do. So long as there’s no cheating or underhanded sneaking around and it’s all safe, a girl should be able to explore her sexuality and go on just as many adventures as guys. When I think about Kaya blowing Richard, her college professor, though, I feel more than a little unseated. Who the fuck is this guy? And what kind of electro shock device does he have strapped to his dick to stop him from trying to screw Kaya every time he lays eyes on her. I mean, her dress… shit. I want to rip it off her body right now with my teeth.
It’s rare that she’s not wearing that huge parka coat of hers. Now that I can see the delicious curves of her body, swelling in all the right places under the thin wool of her dress, I can’t stop myself from imagining my hands all over her skin, cupping and squeezing tightly.
Kaya sinks gracefully down onto the couch, kicking off the small black ankle boots she’s wearing to reveal bare feet, toenails painted the same shocking red as her lips. “I think denying myself the things I want makes me appreciate them more,” she says. “Sex is one of my favorite pastimes, but it wouldn’t be as fun if I gave in and allowed myself to have it all the time. Would birthday cake be as special if you ate it every day instead of just once a year?”
“I don’t know. I love birthday cake. I think I could eat it every day and not get sick of it.” I don’t mention the fact that my love for cake pales in comparison next to my love of getting my dick sucked. I can’t remember the last time that happened, though. With Millie being so sick recently, and money being so tight, my life has consisted of work and hospital visits. More work, and more hospital visits.
“Trust me,” Kaya says. “When you’re patient, and you make yourself wait for the things you want so badly, getting them is that much more enjoyable.” A seductive smile lingers on her lips. She glances down at the space next to her on the sofa. “Are you planning on standing up for the rest of the night, or d’you think you might be able to sit down. You’re making me uncomfortable.”
I think this is a lie. I doubt I’d ever be able to make this girl uncomfortable; she’s so self-possessed and at home in her own skin. It wouldn’t matter if I were standing on hot coals. Kaya would happily witness me do it and it wouldn’t make her own feet itch. I sit down next to her anyway, leaving a seven-inch gap between our bodies so I’m not right on top of her. We’re close enough that I can smell her, though—the warm, gentle, floral note of her perfume, and the subtle note of something rich and smoky, too.
“So your friend left town,” she says. “I’m glad you managed to hunt him down.”
“Yeah. Hopefully he’ll be safe now that he’s out of state.”
“He will. Johnny and his guys are shrewd businessmen, but they’re not gonna waste time chasing someone halfway across the country just to teach them a lesson. They’re too lazy. I keep trying to explain that to Jameson, but he’s a stubborn son of a bitch. He says the only way he’s leaving Seattle’s in a body bag or the trunk of a car.”
“He might get his wish.”
“He might.” She says this breezily, as if the prospect of her brother being murdered is of no consequence to her. “Like I said back at the café, though. My brother seems to have a way of always landing on his feet. He was on the roster to fight this weekend. He’s still planning on showing up. I don’t think Johnny’s going to have him kneecapped at the last minute and make him miss his match. They’d lose too much money. Jameson’s not the only person betting that he’ll win, you know. Every single bookie in a twenty mile radius is betting the same way.”
“I can believe it.”
Kaya glances at me out of the side of her eye—a cool blue laser pointer, suddenly burning right into me. “I don’t want to talk about my brother, Mason. And I’m assuming you’d rather not talk about your sister, too. What I’d really like to discuss is the matter of you fucking me, and whether you’re finally going to do it tonight.” She smiles sweetly.
I can’t really get my head around the direct, straight-to-the-point way she says this. She must be able to tell I’m shocked even though I try and hide it, because she laughs softly down her nose. “If you’re not into it, it’s okay, Mase. It just seems like the next step in this particular relationship.”
“But not in the emotional relationship you share with Richard?”
She shakes her head, trying to conceal a smile. “No, not with Richard. Would you prefer that we have an emotional relationship instead of a physical one?”
“You say that like the two are mutually exclusive.”
“They usually are with guys. Don’t you think so?”
“Maybe.”
“You didn’t answer my question. If you’d like to go out to dinner and discuss Proust, I’d be more than happy to split the bill with you.” She scrunches up her nose, pouting those glossy lips of hers. “Personally, I think you’re more of a strip down naked and fuck kind of guy, though. Correct me if I’m wrong.”
My dick is harder than granite again. All she had to do was say the words strip down naked and fuck and I’m ready to go. Hearing her say such things, the way she says them, is probably the hottest thing I’ve experienced in a long time. I shift on the couch, trying to disguise the fact that my jeans are tenting in the crotch. “You’re not wrong,” I tell her.
“I know. I like to study people, Mase. I like figuring them out, working out what makes them tick. You might like the idea of being emotionally involved with me, but the reality of your day-to-day life makes date night, grabbing dinner, hitting the movies, and weekends away in the mountains an impossibility. I know that. I respect that. But I still want to ride your dick.”
God damn it. There’s no point in pretending this isn’t going to happen anymore. I came here for a reason, and Kaya knows it. I scan her features one last time, reviewing the way her Cupid’s bow mouth lifts a little at the corners, the way her sharp blue eyes fizzle with an intelligence that makes me even more turned on for some rea
son.
“Fuck it.” I grab for her, cupping the back of her neck with my right hand, and our mouths crash together as she leans in at the same time. She kisses me just as aggressively as I kiss her, our tongues both licking and teasing at each other. Jesus, she’s good.
My left hand finds its way up her shirt all by itself. Kaya moans into my mouth as I cup and squeeze her breast through her bra, rolling the swollen bud of her nipple that I can feel straining against the lacy fabric. Her hands have a mind of their own, too. She takes hold of my shirt and lifts it up, pausing our kiss for a split second so she can rip it off over my head. “My god, Mason.” She digs her fingernails into my chest, glancing down at my bare skin in awe. “All that fighting and working out really has paid off.”
She’s seen me without a shirt on at the fights many times, I’m sure. I was barely dressed when she practically blew that Red Vine at French’s, sucking it into her mouth with an evil glint in her eye, fully conscious of what it would be doing to me in my head. And yet you’d think this is the first time by the way she’s staring at my abs, running her slender hands up and down my body like it’s something to truly be admired.
“Close your eyes,” she tells me. “I want to get naked for you.”
“But I’d very much like to see that,” I counter.
“Just close them until everything’s off. Stripping out of a tight dress is never sexy.”
She’s crazy if she thinks she could possibly do anything right now that would be unsexy, but I give her what she wants. I close my eyes shut, resisting the urge to crack my eyelids and peek. She gets up and starts rustling around, and I can feel the air moving on my skin as she throws one piece of clothing to the ground, followed by another two.
“Stay still,” she says.
I feel her skin, then, touching mine. She climbs up onto me, so that she’s straddling me, and places her hands over my face. “Open your eyes,” she whispers.
She doesn’t need to tell me twice. I’m literally speechless as I take in her naked form. She’s flawless. Fucking flawless. She wouldn’t need airbrushing if she was on the cover of a magazine. Her tits are phenomenal. They’re not huge, less than a handful, but they’re perky and so perfectly formed, her nipples a soft subtle color of pink that reminds me of the inside of a seashell. I place my hands on her hips, arguing with myself in my head. I want to take her. I want to pick her up and throw her down on this couch, so I can devour her piece by piece.
“You are…” Shit. There are no words to describe how amazing she is. I leave my mouth hanging open as I shake my head, scrambling to think of a compliment that will do her justice. It doesn’t exist, though.
She blushes. Kaya Rayne has never blushed in my presence. She’s always seemed too fiery and self-assured for something as girl-next-door as blushing, but the evidence is right in front of me. Her lips look swollen and plump, delectable, ready for me to bite. “Carry me to my bed, Mason?” she whispers. “I want you naked, too.”
I fold her up in my arms, my brain screaming like fucking crazy when her tits press up against my chest, and I lift her from the couch. She wraps her legs around my waist tight enough that I could let go of her and she wouldn’t fall; I don’t let go, though. I cup my hands under her perfect ass and her perfect thighs, groaning a little when my fingers skate over her pussy and I feel wetness there.
She wants me. She wants me already, and we haven’t even begun. Her body is unfamiliar and new, hiding so many secrets. I have no idea yet where she likes to be kissed, or touched, or licked, and the prospect of discovering all of those places one at a time, slowly, is beyond fucking thrilling.
In her room, I lie her down on her back, climbing up onto the mattress so I’m hovering over her. “Open your legs for me, Kaya.” My voice is ragged with desire, and she reacts to the sound of it, her lips parting, a soft gasp working its way out of her. “Do it,” I tell her. “ I want to see. I want to see all of you.”
I sit back so she can drop her knees apart, baring her pussy to me, giving me a very clear view of what I’ve been daydreaming about all these weeks since we met. Her pussy is the same fragile pink color as her nipples, glistening and wet. Fuck, I want to bury my face in there right now. I want to lose myself in her as I make her come with my tongue. I can almost taste her sweet, slick flesh. I can almost feel her legs tightening around my head as I bring her closer and closer, until she’s tumbling over the precipice of her orgasm, screaming my fucking name.
I wait, though. Instead, I unbutton my jeans and slip them off, kicking my shoes off and losing my socks at the same time. I stand naked in front of her, readying myself mentally for what’s about to happen. I’m about to go to war.
Kaya is such as strong-willed girl. She wants what she wants, and she knows how to get it. Thing is, she’s never been fucked by a guy like me before. She may have slept with strong, masculine guys, yes, but I’m betting she’s had them bending over backwards, willing to snap their spines to please her in every way. I want to make her come. I want tonight to be the most mind-blowing sex of her life, but I know this experience will fade into the history of her sexual conquests, never to stand out from the rest, if I give her exactly what she wants.
She needs someone who will take her in hand. She needs someone to tell her no. And fair enough. She can tell me no, too. I’m not going to make her do anything she doesn’t want to. But she’s not the one in control here. Is she going to be into that? Who knows. I guess I’m about to find out, though.
“Have you watched me in the cage before, Kaya?” I ask.
She squirms a little, her hands rubbing along the lengths of her thighs. “Yes. I’ve seen all of your fights.”
“Good. Then this will make sense to you. I fuck like I fight, Kaya. I take no prisoners. I dominate, and I take control. I hate to lose. Are you sure you still want to play with me?”
Slowly, carefully, she inches her right hand toward her pussy, until the very tips of her fingers are teasing her clit. She arches her back, her eyes still locked on mine. “I want to play. Doesn’t mean I won’t get my way, though, Mason. Do you want to risk losing? Just this once?”
I shake my head. Taking my dick in my hand, I squeeze, shivering a little in anticipation. Her glance flickers down, settling on the sight of my palm slowly working up and down my hard cock. I can’t help but enjoy the look of expectation in her eyes. “I like taking risks,” I say. “But this, in the underground fighting circuit, is what we like to call a one sided match, Kaya Rayne. Now roll over and show me that ass.”
Kaya smirks. Ten seconds pass by, and I’m getting ready to grab my shit and leave. If she doesn’t do as I’ve told her, that’s exactly what’s going to happen, and I think she knows it. I think she can see it in my eyes. At the eleventh second, she shrugs, propping herself up on her elbows. “Power is a dangerous thing. Make sure it doesn’t go to your head, okay?”
Purposefully, slowly, she rolls herself over, kneeling a little so that her porcelain skinned ass is on display for me and me alone. Casting an amused look over her shoulder, she raises her eyebrows. “Like what you see?”
I rub my hand against the side of my leg, warming up my palm, getting ready to spank the ever-loving shit out of her. “You could say that. You could say I like what I see a lot.” She gasps the first time my palm makes contact with her ass. The room fills with the sound of her surprise, which only makes me want to slap her harder. “Hold on tight, Kaya,” I tell her. “You wanted this, and now you’re gonna get it. I really hope you’re fucking ready.”
Chapter Eighteen
SLOANE
I lay on my side, watching him. It’s late, past one in the morning, but I just can’t sleep. Zeth carried me up to bed and made me lay very still while he went down on me, taking his time with his tongue. I shivered and tried to breathe slowly as he brought me to my orgasm, and when it was over he licked me clean, seeming to take great pleasure in the task. He wouldn’t fuck me. Instead, he took me in his arms and s
troked his hands up and down my body in the dark for an hour, tracing circles and strange, alien shapes into my skin before he eventually fell asleep.
He never gradually passes into unconsciousness. He falls dramatically, like plunging head first off a steep cliff. There’s a change in him that’s so instantaneous and intense that it’s impossible to miss. His breathing, the tautness of his muscles, the way the air snaps with a certain energy that always rolls off him—all of that changes. His arms fall slack, his chest rising and falling slowly, rhythmically, and the sharp edge of his consciousness flees the room, leaving the space around him feeling somehow less because of it.
Times like these, when he’s asleep, fighting dragons in his dreams, I love to watch how his face changes. He’s such a hard person to know. There’s a fierceness about him at all times. He loves fiercely. He fights fiercely. He exists in a way that seems like a challenge, as if he’s defiant down to his very core, and no matter what, he’s ready to defend his choices, his beliefs, and those he cares about regardless of what it might cost him. There’s just no fear in the man.
When he’s asleep, though, it’s possible to catch a glimmer of softness to him if you look hard enough. The lines of his face relax. His hands, so often tightened into balls of flesh and bone, ready to attack, turn from weapons into works of art. His hands fascinate me. They’re covered in scars, calloused and rough where his fingers meet his palms; a fortune teller would have a hell of a time getting a read on his future, given the way that roadmap of lines etched deeply into his skin seem so much more chaotic than most.