Kept

by Jami Alden

  He reached past her to flick on the light, catching the scent of her as he did so. Fresh, citrusy, with a warm, musky tone underneath. The aroma went straight to his balls, curling around and squeezing like a woman’s soft hand.

  Like Alyssa’s hot hand, circling and stroking his cock, burning him alive.

  “Nice place,” she said, surveying the recently remodeled kitchen.

  “Thanks,” he said. “I just finished renovating the kitchen and bathrooms.” This was weird, standing here, his dick hard enough to cut glass, talking about his kitchen remodel.

  She walked slowly forward, her skinny heels tap-tapping on the tile before she leaned one hip against a bar stool next to the counter. She looked up at him with wide, grass-green eyes and caught her bottom lip between her teeth.

  Was she really nervous? Or was it an act?

  Derek didn’t kid himself. She probably did this all the time. He was merely her chosen nightcap at the end of the evening.

  Still, she looked uncertain, waiting for him to make a move. The silence thickened, verging on awkward.

  This was such a fucking bad idea. If he were Ethan—his twin who would have done this gig under normal circumstances—Derek would have a steady stream of flirty banter at the ready, a smile designed to make a woman feel at ease as he was herding her to the bedroom.

  But he wasn’t the player Ethan had been before he’d met Toni Crawford, world’s sexiest computer nerd. Derek didn’t take random women home, didn’t have the time or desire to make meaningless chitchat and talk them into bed for equally meaningless sex.

  So what the fuck was he doing?

  Alyssa gave him a tentative smile and absently twisted a strand of golden-brown hair. The smile shot heat to his groin, and he had his answer.

  “How about a drink?” Alyssa said. She slipped her coat off her shoulders and placed it on the bar stool next to her, not noticing—or not caring—when it slid onto the floor.

  “Good idea.” He could use something to take the edge off as the rational side of his brain—the one he listened to without fail—argued with his cock over whether or not he should throw caution to the wind or throw Alyssa out on her delectable ass.

  Right now, the jury was still out. “I’ve got Scotch,” he said, retrieving a bottle of Lagavulin from the liquor cabinet. “And a bottle of this cabernet. I think it’s decent. I got it as a gift.”

  Alyssa took the bottle and eyed the label. Her appreciative “Ooh” made him wonder what noises she’d make if he buried his tongue in her pussy.

  Logic was losing out to lust, big-time.

  He poured himself three fingers of the Lag and dug a wineglass from the back of a cabinet. He filled it half full and handed it to Alyssa, making sure not to touch her as he did so.

  “Let’s go outside,” he said, motioning to the French doors that opened off the kitchen to a small deck overlooking his patch of grass that served as a backyard. Sipping her wine, Alyssa went over to the deck’s railing and rested her knee on the built-in bench at the edge.

  His eyes were glued to the skin of her back, left bare by her dress, glowing silver in the moonlight. His mouth watered with the urge to brush her long, thick hair aside and run his tongue along the shallow groove of her spine, up over her shoulders, and back down.

  He moved closer, catching her scent. Like an animal. He’d never felt this, the craving to take a woman, to have her, over and over.

  And he hadn’t so much as kissed her yet.

  She had to go.

  The Lag was starting to do its job, mellowing him out, dulling the edges of everything, including his defenses against the unwarranted desire for this woman.

  “Listen,” he began, “I don’t do this kind of thing very often—”

  “What? Have a drink on your deck or take random women home with you?”

  “The second,” he said, an involuntary smile pulling at his mouth.

  She turned to face him, the light spilling from his kitchen bouncing off the delicate lines of her face. “Me neither. Go home with random men, I mean.”

  He didn’t bother to hide his disbelief.

  “Believe what you want.” She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “It’s true.”

  Fine, he’d humor her. Then he’d let her finish her drink and offer her a ride home.

  No matter how much his dick throbbed in protest.

  “Oh, yeah? So why me?” He tossed back the last of his Scotch.

  She gave him a wry smile. “There’s something about you that’s different from most men I meet. Something that makes me want to be with you.”

  He thought he heard something in her tone, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it through the soft haze of the Scotch and the sudden rush of heat that blew through him as she eased closer, close enough for him to feel heat radiating off her in waves.

  Hands were tugging at his lapels. “Come down here,” she whispered. “I can’t kiss you all the way up there.”

  Oh, this was such a bad idea. But he sat down on the bench and pulled her between his parted thighs, spreading his palms on the hot skin of her back.

  “That’s better.” Her hands cradled his face, and her wine-scented breath caressed his mouth as she leaned in for a kiss.

  Heat exploded through him at the first touch, and his fingers tightened around her back as he pulled her close. She tasted like peaches, he thought as his tongue slid into her mouth—peaches and something dark and rich and spicy.

  The curve of her hip pressed against his thigh, and the softness of her belly cradled the hard ridge of his erection. His mouth opened wider over hers, his tongue thrusting inside. Not the light, introductory, how-you-doing kiss she’d started.

  He half expected her to pull away—little slip like her probably wasn’t expecting an assault from a caveman when she’d invited herself over to play.

  Too bad. She’d slipped right through his control, wound him tight as a bow. Now she had to face the consequences.

  To his shock, she didn’t back off at all, but gave as good as she got. Her mouth opened under his, her tongue swept through his mouth, exploring him as hungry little moans bubbled from the back of her throat.

  She leaned into him, crushing herself against his chest. He took off his suit jacket in jerky, impatient motions, resenting the way the heavy fabric kept him from really feeling her. His hand covered her breast through her dress, swallowing the plump curve in his broad palm. Alyssa moaned and sucked on his tongue. His cock strained against his fly, begging for the same treatment.

  He stood up and clamped his hands around her waist, lifting her easily and carrying her through the kitchen, down the hall to his bedroom. He deposited her on the bed and switched on the bedside lamp. His last lover had been a strictly lights-out girl, and Derek had never cared.

  But one look at Alyssa, blinking up at him with blurry green eyes, the hem of her dress flipped up to reveal the crotch of cream silk panties, and he knew he had to watch every second.

  He stripped off his shirt in jerky motions, ripped by dueling desires to fuck her hard and fast and get this the hell over with before he completely lost his mind, and the need to linger over every square inch of her, discover every secret spot, see how many times he could make her come before he finally let himself go.

  She kicked off her shoes and rose into a seated position. She reached around to the back of her neck. With a flick of her fingers she undid the button holding up her dress. Red silk pooled at her waist as her gaze slid shyly from his.

  Derek felt like he’d taken a roundhouse kick to the chest. She was perfect—silky golden skin, small but luscious breasts tipped with dark pink nipples. Something twisted inside him, dark and aching and needy, yearning for this small woman perched on his bed.

  He had to get this over with, fast. If he was smart, he’d follow his initial instinct and cut this off now. But he’d left smart behind about thirty minutes ago when his cock had told his brain to offer her a ride home.

 
; Not fucking her was not an option. Not anymore. Not with her sitting on his bed with her buttery soft skin and nipples that begged to be sucked and tongued. But he could do it quickly, get her out of here, mitigate the damage. No soft words, no lingering explorations. Get her off fast, get himself off immediately after.

  Over and done with, and then he could put this whole crazy night and the irrational pull she had on him out of his mind.

  His hands went to his fly as he simultaneously toed off his shoes. He shoved his pants and boxers down in one move and stripped his socks off in fast, efficient movements. His cock was rock hard, bobbing and straining between his legs.

  Alyssa’s mouth curved in another soft “ooh,” and she let out a little gasp. He felt her gaze like a caress as she stared at his erection, her eyebrows raised. Blood surged, and he lifted one knee onto the bed.

  Alyssa looked up at him with a tiny smile curving her pink mouth. “Impressive.”

  Derek wanted to return her smile but couldn’t. He wanted to laugh this off, inject some lightness into a moment that had sped from flirtation to way too intense in lightning speed. His hands shook as he reached for her and pushed her back on the bed. She pulled him down over her, sliding her fingers through his hair and pulling his mouth to hers for another hungry kiss. Her skin was hot against his, hot and smooth. Her nipples were like bullets pressing against his chest.

  He shoved her dress all the way off and pushed on his arms so he could see her, all of her, naked except for a wisp of silk covering her mound. She raised her hands, ran her hands down his chest and sides, traced the line of hair that bisected his abdomen.

  “You’re beautiful,” she whispered and slid her hand down the last few torturous inches to his cock. He wanted to return the compliment, but his brain turned to mush as warm fingers wrapped around him, sending a jolt of fire straight to his belly. A thick drop of precome beaded on the tip as he pulsed in her hand. He looked down, groaning at the sight of her small, manicured fingers circling his cock, and for a brief, humiliating moment he was afraid he was going to come in her hand.

  Then she closed her fist around him and started to stroke. He arched his head back, gritting his teeth against the unbearable pleasure, allowed himself to savor it for a few seconds before he grabbed her hand away. Christ, she was going to burn him alive.

  He leaned down and took her mouth in a hard, hungry kiss, came fully over her until they were breast to chest. One of his thighs hitched between hers, and he could feel her damp heat against his skin. He pressed higher, reveling in her soft gasp, in the way she arched and rubbed herself against him.

  His hands slid over her breasts, exploring, his thumb flicking over the firm beads of her nipples. He slid his mouth from hers, trailed hot, openmouthed kisses down her neck and chest before closing his mouth over one hard tip. He’d meant to be gentle, easing into it with teasing flicks of his tongue before sucking it between his lips.

  Instead he sucked her, hard, like he wanted to devour her. And she seemed to love it, digging her fingers into his hair, holding him close.

  “Derek,” she whispered, “that feels so good.”

  Her breathy voice exploded through him, making his dick throb to get inside her even as he wanted to show her all the ways he could touch her and give her pleasure.

  He buried his head between her breasts, pressing hard kisses against her skin as an unfamiliar tangle of desire and emotion roiled inside him. Derek had always considered himself a decent lover. Courteous, anyway. He always got his partner off, lingering as long as he needed to, doing whatever she needed done before getting onto his own satisfaction.

  But he’d never felt this primitive need to give pleasure, the need to stroke her higher and higher. He’d never anticipated a woman’s orgasm like he did Alyssa’s, wanting to experience it almost as much as he wanted his own.

  He circled her nipple with his tongue and pulled away to look at her. Her green eyes were narrowed into slits; her lips were puffy and red from his kisses. Red splotches showed on her delicate skin where his day’s growth of stubble had rasped. She was so beautiful it made his throat tight to look at her.

  He wanted to spend hours, days, touching her, tasting her, finding out all her secrets.

  He wanted to steal her away to one of Gemini’s safe houses, keep her there for about a month until he knew her as well as he knew himself.

  Derek’s brain, which had gone on a coffee break up until that moment, surged back into action.

  What the fuck are you thinking? She’s nothing but a rich girl who picked you up at a party for the purposes of a fast fuck. She’s hot. You want her. She wants you. You know all you need to know. Now get it over with before you really lose it.

  Right. So what if he wanted her more than he could remember wanting any other woman, ever? So what if she made him lose touch with his normal, levelheaded, logical self?

  They were two strangers who had met and wanted to have sex. Nothing special about that. No deeper meaning beyond mutual lust.

  Yet every instinct for self-preservation urged him to get this over with as quickly as possible before Alyssa Miles wreaked more havoc on his mental state.

  Rolling to the side, he stripped off her panties with one hand, determined to regain some semblance of control. Then he almost lost it again at the first glimpse of her pussy. A tidy patch of bronze curls topped her otherwise smooth flesh. Her legs were slightly parted, offering him a mouthwatering view of glistening pink folds and the plump bud of her clitoris begging to be stroked. It was all the invitation he needed.

  Derek took her mouth as he slid his hand between her legs, pushing one finger up inside her. Liquid heat enveloped his finger, pulsing around him, drawing him deeper as she moaned and squirmed underneath him.

  Fuck, she was tight. And wet, soaking his fingers with her silky, slippery juice.

  But tight. So tight he knew he couldn’t take her hard and fast, not without hurting her. He pumped his thick finger inside her, flicked her clit with his thumb. Tiny muscles clenched around him, and another surge of moisture bathed his hand.

  She arched under his touch, her legs shifting, teasing his cock with inadvertent brushes of her thigh. Derek knew he wouldn’t be able to make it much longer. He slid another finger up into her, stroking, stretching, softening her for the much thicker invasion of his cock.

  “Oh, God,” she whispered. “That feels…mmm…” She bucked up against his hand, fucking his fingers as his thumb circled her clit with firmer strokes. Suddenly she convulsed, her muscles tightening like a fist around his fingers, her eyes flying open as though startled at the strength and swiftness of her own orgasm.

  “Oh, my God,” she whispered. A vein pulsed in her neck, and Derek leaned down to suck the spot. A shiver coursed through her, and he could feel her clench around his finger, still buried deep inside her. “I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard.”

  “Let’s see if you can do it with me inside you,” he said. It took an act of will, but he coaxed his fingers from the slick warmth of her body, rolled onto his back, and reached blindly for the drawer of his bedside table. He vaguely remembered throwing some condoms in there a while back. A few seconds of fumbling, and his fingers closed over the foil packet.

  His hands shook as he unwrapped the packet, and he swore as he fumbled with the latex. Jesus Christ, he was so far gone he could barely get the condom on. His fingers felt like they’d tripled in thickness, big and clumsy and incapable of fitting the ring of latex around the engorged head of his cock.

  “Let me,” Alyssa said, pushing him onto his back as she knelt beside him. He leaned forward and took a nipple in his mouth, sucking and tonguing her. She took the condom from him and smoothed it down the length of his cock, her fingers burning him, making him arch and thrust against her touch. He pulled her down to him and settled her thighs on either side of his hips, realizing vaguely that he had less of a chance of hurting her if she was the one to control his penetration.

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nbsp; But she rolled off him, onto her back, pulling him down over her. “I want you on top,” she whispered.

  “You’re small,” he protested. “I’m way too heavy—”

  “I want to feel your weight over me,” she said, pulling his hips to hers as she bent her knees and parted her legs. Gripping his cock in one small hand, she guided him to her, slicking the plump head up and down, around her clit, drenching him with liquid fire.

  “Put me in,” he demanded, needing to be inside her before he went off like a rocket.

  Still holding him, she fit him against the entrance to her sex, taking a sharp inhale as he squeezed inside. “God, you’re big.”

  “And you’re so fucking tight.” He drove slowly forward, sliding in another inch. Jesus, not even two inches in her, and his orgasm was already looming, tingling in his balls, urging him to drive home and pound away.

  He paused, took several deep breaths, reaching for the ironclad control that had disappeared at the first touch from this confounding woman. He pushed forward, pausing again when he saw her lips tighten.

  “I’m hurting you,” he panted.

  She tossed her head against the pillow. “No. I mean, it’s okay. It’s just been a long time.”

  “How long?” He panted out the question before he could stop himself. There was no reason he should care.

  “A little over a year,” she said, lifting her hips, killing him with shallow little thrusts as she struggled to accommodate him.

  He froze, his sex-fuzzed brain chewing over that piece of intel. It had been nearly as long for himself, and they’d picked each other from the crowd to end a mutual dry spell.

  It doesn’t mean anything. But his whole body tensed, hesitating, afraid if he went any further it would mean a whole lot more than he’d ever bargained for.