Risking It

by Angela Quarles

  “Ready?” he asks.

  “Yes.”

  “Line me up, baby,” he rumbles.

  Oh yeah, he can’t do that with his hands occupied. I like this giving-directions thing. I ease him forward, and he lowers me until the broad tip nudges my opening. And just that brief touch, that tiny pressure, has me shaking in anticipation. Deep inside, that ache to be filled grows.

  Why is he pausing? I glance up to his gorgeous face, and his sinful eyes are already there, waiting, watching. Our gazes lock.

  “I want you kissing me when I lower you.” His voice is like liquid sex, velvety, molten, urgent. “I want to be kissing you when I feel you around me for the first time.”

  God. I could easily fall for this man.

  Just sex. Just sex.

  I cradle his face, my fingers brushing against the sharp lines of his jaw, his scruff, and I brush my lips against his soft, full ones. He moans into my mouth and lowers me, stretching me, inch by scorching inch. Our kisses become frantic. Our tongues tangle and stroke, and then he slams me fully down onto all that hot—oh wow—hardness.

  I gasp against his mouth and arch my head back, because holy shit, the feeling is exquisite. He’s huge, and I’m full of every hot inch of him, stretching me. I tremble, urgency gripping me, centered where we’re joined. Oh God, if one of us moves, I’ll orgasm. I swear. Though moving might not be possible yet anyway, because yeah, he’s huge and I need to adjust.

  It’s a sweet, sweet ache.

  His tantalizing mouth is trailing feverish kisses across my neck, his lips soft and silky against my skin. I lean back farther, and a warm wetness tugs my nipple. I buck forward on a gasp, which causes him to shift deliciously inside me.

  Aiden chuckles. “You like that?” He nips and teases. “Wow. Your breasts are…” He gives it a tweak between his fingers, then laves it with the flat of his tongue. I jerk and dig my fingers into his shoulders. “They’re so sensitive.”

  I’m assuming that’s a good thing. Yep. That’s what I’m going with.

  He cups my breast, plumping it to his mouth, and sucks and sucks and sucks, and oh my God, I’m now frenzied. I am. I’m moving on him now. Adjustment period, bye-bye. My movements are jerky as I ride his girth in short pumps because I don’t want him to stop suckling my breast. He’s kneading and sucking, and the pleasure is like a direct link between his heavenly mouth and where I’m sliding up and down him, the hunger zinging down, the friction everything, everything, holy shit.

  A low spasm grips me, different from when I pleasure myself. This has its sensuous claws in me, like it’s not going to just go poof and disappear. No, this is a deep, shuddering pull. I grip his shoulders tight and just let it come let it come, and then it’s on me, a searing climax that blasts through my whole body. I’m shaking, and my mind goes flat for a second, though I’m aware enough to hear Aiden pant, “Holy fuck.”

  He cinches his arms tight around me and goes completely still. Then his cock, buried deep inside me, jerks, and because we’re holding each other so firmly, I can feel his whole body slightly tremble.

  Blood is pounding so hard through me, it feels like a marching band, and we’re trying to catch our breath. Our skin is covered in a light sheen of sweat.

  And all my mind can do is say oh wow over and over again.

  Chapter 13

  Aiden

  I slip back into our room, juggling the tray loaded with breakfast I nabbed from downstairs and trying to be quiet. When I left Jane a few minutes ago, she was conked out. Adorable and all mussed, twisted in the sheets, her hair in disarray, but conked out just the same.

  I grin. Because she still is.

  There’s also less tension in my shoulders—on the elevator ride down, I logged into my bar’s bank to check the daily deposits. Not only are the credit card totals like I’d expect, so are the cash deposits. Stuart’s definitely a keeper.

  I ease the tray onto the room’s round table, wincing when it makes a slight dink. I hurriedly glance over my shoulder, but she’s still stretched out on her stomach, the sheets only covering her legs. Her delectable ass is pointing right at me.

  God, my hands itch to graze along that smooth, soft skin again. Grip that ass tight. Squeeze. Let go, and then squeeze again. Yeah, I’m an ass man. And Jane has a perfectly rounded ass. An ass that sits up high and proud. I crumple the note I left on the nightstand in case she woke up, quickly strip, and slip back under the sheets. The bed’s barely had time to cool—I was that fast getting breakfast.

  No way did I want to miss waking up with her beside me. Or worse, her waking up and panicking at my absence. Cuz I think she’d panic. I would, and I don’t care if that makes me a mushy wuss.

  I burrow up beside her. The beautiful lines of her back are to me, so I slip an arm—reaaalll slow—around her waist and nuzzle up behind her with a steady movement. I don’t want to wake her yet. I want her to wake up in my arms.

  Yeah, cheesy, I know. But fuck it.

  I shift that last distance and, ah, yes. She fits so perfectly against me. Her hair’s floral scent fills me, its strands soft against my nose and lips.

  Having her ass pinned to me, my nose in the perfect spot, my hand skimming up her soft, smooth stomach and oh so stealthily resting against one of her beautiful boobs doesn’t make me harden.

  Nope.

  That fucker’s been hard since I woke up to find my dick happily wedged against her ass.

  It only got happier—and harder—as my brain came on line and splashed me with all of last night’s erotic memories.

  A sleepy moan escapes her, and she wiggles her butt, nudging my very happy dick. Impossibly, it swells even more.

  I’m a healthy, red-blooded, heterosexual male, so my reaction’s not newsworthy. We’re pretty simple with the biological imperative and all—female ass pressed to our dick? It’s going to harden, just sayin’.

  But what’s different is how much more quickly and how much more intense it is with Jane. There’s an extra animating force layered through our interactions. Chemistry. And, Jesus, did that chemistry flare and feed off us last night.

  With what I’m about to admit, if I shared it with Luke, Conor, or any of my other buddies, they’d yank my man card away so fast it would cut. But the truth is, with her I feel a tenderness.

  I likened her vulnerability before to a hot potato I was afraid I’d mishandle. Now a need surges through me. A need to slip on heat-resistant gloves so I can handle her. Protect her.

  That’s new.

  Paired with that feeling, though, is a primal urge to fuck her. Over and over. All day. Like bunnies. And I can’t even fathom ever getting tired of her.

  And that right there—all of it—should scare the shit out of me, but I can’t seem to care.

  Jane’s breathing shifts. She stiffens slightly, but I tighten my arms around her and murmur, “Good morning,” near her ear.

  She shivers in my arms. And there it is. The first spark in our chemistry’s chain reaction. It coils and strengthens between us.

  “Morning,” she replies, her voice soft and husky.

  Which Jane will appear this morning? Will she try to ghost me again? Did I fuck things up by going too fast last night?

  Before that worry can take root, she nudges that nicely rounded ass against my cock.

  Fuck, yeah. I didn’t want to be a needy bastard and push for another round this morning, but that’s a clear signal. And I’m going to heed it.

  I part my fingers over her nipple and skim down the luscious slope of her breast. Slow, though, because I want to draw out this moment. Her skin pebbles as I return to her responsive nipple and lightly stroke back and forth, back and forth. Her little nub hardens under my fingers.

  Jesus. Last night. Her riding me with such abandon. So fucking hot. I had no hope of making it last. As one of the strongest orgasms I’ve ever had smacked me, I had room for only one thought—thank the Orgasm Gods she’d come. Or I’d have failed her spectacularly.
Like her past lovers, it sounds like.

  I clamp my fingers together, capturing her stiff nipple, and tug. She gasps. And my hip jerks. It’s as if we’re synched—I touch her, she reacts, and then I react. A feedback loop.

  The more I tweak and knead and rev her up, the more I’m revved up. Which completely screws with my plan to take this slow, because soon we’re both gasping, my fingers are flicking and stroking her clit, our mouths are crashing into each other despite the awkward angle, and my hard-as-a-hammer cock is plunging between her thighs, aided by the slickness of her arousal.

  Fuuuck. I want to be inside her. Now.

  I clasp an arm around her waist, cup my junk against her with my other hand, twine my legs around hers, and roll us across the bed. Our feet get tangled in the sheets. She lets out a squeal and a throaty laugh. “What’re you doing?”

  “Getting us closer to the condoms!”

  I fling an arm to the nightstand where I’d thrown the rest and snatch one. Our roll across the bed ended with her lying on top of me, her back to my chest. My dick jerks at a tentative touch, then a firmer one. I lift my head. Over the pale peaks of her boobs, I see she’s extended her arm down, and her fingers are stroking the tip of my cock, which is pointing up through her supple thighs like a fucking flagpole. Her warm wet heat feels fantastic against my dick. As do her featherlight touches.

  Now she’s moving my cock back and forth, the plump folds of her pussy slicking across me, but the visual makes me snort.

  “What?” she asks.

  “Looks like you’re playing with a joystick.”

  “Well…if the nickname fits…” She hums and again rubs my dick against herself.

  I can’t help it, I bust out laughing. Before she can say anything further, I roll her to the side and sit up on my knees. She peers back over her shoulder, her eyes glinting with mischief and sexual confidence. God, I fucking love seeing that. Because I helped put it there.

  Seconds later, I have the condom package ripped open, my cock straining, my balls tight up against me. God. I feel as if I haven’t come in months.

  She rolls onto her stomach and wiggles that pert, curvy ass of hers, and I groan. I want to tell her to stop with the wiggle action, or I’m going to explode before I can even get the damn condom in place, but I don’t. She might misinterpret. It’s clear she’s had lousy boyfriends and that this sexual confidence is new. I have no wish, no fucking wish at all, to squelch that.

  That chest-beating feeling surges through me again, because I’m the lucky bastard who for some reason has the right compatibility to give her that confidence. Hell if I know what I did or said last night, but I’m delighted.

  Fully sheathed, I swing my knee over her fuck-awesome legs, straddling her. I brush my hands around those tempting cheeks, her smooth, soft skin whispering across my palms. I grip her hips and yank her to her knees.

  She arches her back, but her gaze is questioning. I slide my palm around her hip and stroke my finger through her wetness. She closes her eyes, groans, and pushes her hips toward me, and—fuck—I want to part her legs, shove myself into her warm heat, and pound us both to oblivion. But I resist.

  God, somehow I resist.

  I want to tease that clit of hers until she comes.

  Fingers coated with her juices, I slick them down my condom-wrapped cock. I thrust my cock between her lush thighs and across her folds—with my knees trapping her legs together, it’s a tight fit. It won’t be enough pressure for her, but I tease her first by easing out and back across, reveling in the feel of her slicking across my cock.

  She bucks. “Aiden,” she whispers.

  Her voice. Saying my name. I fucking love hearing it while I’m teasing her like this.

  I lick the heel of my hand and press it hard against my cock on the next slide between her thighs, grinding it against her as I thrust. My girl likes pressure there, I’ve found. Hard pressure.

  She gasps. “Aiden!” Her thighs start to shake. Almost there. On each retreat, I flick and stroke her swollen nub. On each thrust, I push my dick hard into her clit with my hand. On the next flick-stroke, she cries out and shudders and comes, making my next pass easier through her thighs and the folds of her pussy.

  Her responsiveness to me—it lights me up inside. And I feel confident it’s me, because she revealed a lot last night with her confessions.

  While she’s still gasping, and her hands are rhythmically clenching and unclenching the pillow, I ease inside her on the next pass. Tight heat clamps around my dick, and I drop my head back and close my eyes. Tiny aftershocks of her orgasm are pulsing my cock. Honest to God, I almost explode right then and there.

  As best I can, I smother the sensation. I want to make this last, dammit.

  But my gaze is inevitably drawn back down. Back to where we’re joined. Mistake. Because the sight of my cock easing out from between her thighs, coated with her juices, makes something primal surge through me. Liquid heat coils tighter as I slam back into her, gripping that delectable ass tight. I piston into her three times before I recapture my control and drag out.

  I smooth my hand over her shapely hip, across her stomach, until my fingers reach the underside of her luscious breasts. I graze my fingers up and around those delicious curves and pinch her rigid nipple.

  “You with me, baby?”

  Her breaths are coming fast, making her breasts a delightful, jiggly handful. Her head hanging down, she nods jerkily. “Oh God, yes. Don’t stop.” Her voice is an octave lower than normal, and the sultry pitch tingles across my skin as if it’s a touch all on its own.

  “Don’t plan to,” I grit out.

  Fuuuuck—I want to keep teasing her, but urgency pounds through my blood. Once I start moving in her again, I know I’ll lose control. And I want her to come again before I do.

  Desperate, I tweak her nipple and gather up the silky brown hair falling around her face. I put my full concentration on the task, as if by doing so I’m also gathering the last shreds of my control. Every last hair tamed and in my fist, I twist it once around my fingers and clasp her naked shoulder, her hair held firmly in my grip. I don’t want to hurt her, but I also want her hair out of the way, and this gives her options—if she wants it, she can have a slight sting.

  I close my eyes, grit my teeth, and ease back inside her. We both moan. I make it as slow as I can, but it’s killing me feeling her tight heat grip me as if it had already been missing me these few short minutes.

  Clutching her shoulder and hip, I surrender to the need and thrust inside her over and over, watching her perky ass hit me as I bury myself in her each time. She arches her back even more, her head and shoulders now resting on the pillow. The sight of my cock disappearing into her from this new angle… Oh, fuck. I piston into her. I try to finesse my thrusts, giving my hips a slight twist so my tight-as-fuck balls can slap her sex, but I’m past knowing whether I’m accomplishing anything other than making her gasp and moan and call my name over and over.

  On a hoarse cry, she trembles, and she slumps to the side, her sex milking me.

  Oh, thank God.

  I fall with her, covering her back, and she jackknifes her knee. I mirror the movement with mine, and the new angle gets me even deeper where I want. Deeper into Jane. I mold her back to my chest, and it only takes one more deep thrust for me to know it’s over. I bury my face in her neck, and heat blasts along my lower back, tightens my balls, then explodes from me with such force that I stifle a shout against her sweet-sweaty skin, and my mind goes quiet and blank.

  Slowly, awareness returns. I’m still buried deep inside her, and we’re still panting. Our skin is slick with sweat, and my heart beats hard against her back.

  Jesus Christ.

  As I slowly bring my mind back online, I fall completely on my side, snugging her up against me, trying to keep myself inside her, though I’m growing softer by the second. I have to pull out soon and dispose of the condom, but…not yet.

  I want to stay like
this for a moment longer.

  A truth bomb explodes my sensual haze.

  By far, by fucking far, this is the best sex I’ve ever had. And because I’m an idiot, I say something completely unrelated. “I got breakfast.”

  She’s slowly recovering her breath, but manages to say, “Good. I’m starving.”

  I pull her closer and kiss her shoulder.

  Chapter 14

  Jane

  I’m trying—desperately—to not read anything into the fact that not only did Aiden somehow procure breakfast while I was sleeping, he also remembered what I ate yesterday morning.

  The oatmeal and hot tea were cold, but I warmed them in the microwave of our kitchenette.

  Just as desperately, I’m trying to act all casual. As if it’s completely normal for me to wake up next to him and have another bout of mind-blowing sex. And then sit down and have breakfast together on a balcony overlooking a pool and beach.

  And not just a polite, sit across from each other at a table kind of breakfast.

  Nope. No, siree.

  I’m sitting in his lap, and his strong arms are wrapped around my waist, his chin on my shoulder, as we both look out through the balcony rail and watch late-morning walkers along the sand, kids running in and out of the surf, and preteens trying, and failing, to skim board. And I’m practically vibrating at the effort to cloak myself in this casual shell.

  He ate his breakfast while I heated mine—one minute there was a plate of food in front of him, and the next it was gone. I suspect it’s not nearly enough for him, but it was all he could bring up by himself.

  I only have the banana left now, and I break off a chunk with my fingers and eat it, unwilling to bite into it myself. It’s the way I always eat my bananas in public.

  I expect him to be like a guy and make some remark, but he doesn’t. He seems content to have me rest against him, with no conversation, as I fill my stomach. It’s a great feeling.