A Little Taste of Naughty (A Shattered Lives Short)

by Blakeley, Rissa

  “Come on! We’re going to be late to the ceremony!” Claire yelled from the living room.

  “Claire!” Marc hollered.

  “Sorry. I’m hungry and ready for a beverage. It’s been a long week,” she muttered.

  I had forgotten Claire and Marc were waiting for us. Henry and I laughed and headed out to them. He murmured something about the view from behind as we walked.

  “Let’s go then,” Henry said with a smile. He opened my apartment door and waved everyone out.

  Chapter 6

  -Elaina-

  The wedding ceremony went off without a hitch. I busted Henry staring at my thighs. He chuckled, then wrapped his arm around my shoulders, snuggling me close for the rest of the time in the church.

  Finally, it was time to party. We ate and had a few drinks before the lights dimmed and the music began thumping. It almost felt like a club atmosphere, which was very fitting for my cousin.

  With his third whisky in hand, Henry grabbed me and dragged me out to the dance floor. As we moved to the beat, our faces were a mere breath apart. We stared into one another’s eyes, as our hips rocked and swayed. The erotic feel wasn’t lost on me. Henry tipped back the rest of his whisky just as a slow song came on. He set the glass down on a table nearby and held me tight.

  “Henry, I’m so sorry about my crazy behavior.”

  “Water under the bridge.”

  “It’s not, though. I was horrible to you while you were trying to uplift me.” I glanced around the dance floor, and murmured in his ear, “I want this for us.”

  He leaned back slightly and gazed into my eyes. “Me, too, love.”

  “I want forever with you. I know it’s soon, but what I feel for you is so real. I’ve fallen hard for you.”

  “I can’t imagine my life without you. You are the most amazing woman. My heart beats for you.”

  I smiled and tucked my face back into his neck, enjoying his spicy scent. I felt a little sad when the romantic moment ended.

  “You want another drink?” he asked.

  “Have we met?”

  With a chuckle, he took my hand and led me to the bar, ordering another whisky for himself and another glass of merlot for me. Leaning his hip against the bar, he stared at me with desire, lust, and need. The obvious hunger made me shiver. “Stop looking at me like that,” I said playfully, smacking his arm.

  He grabbed me by the waist and pulled me into his body. “You want me to stop thinking about taking you somewhere and showing you how much you mean to me?”

  “Henry, we can’t.”

  “Let’s go.” He tipped back his drink in one swallow and took my hand, weaving through the crowd of people.

  “Henry!” I hollered, hoping he would hear me over the music. “Henry!” He paused at the cake table, grabbing a slice. “What are you doing?!” I shouted. I tried to pull my hand away, but he firmed his grip. He led me down a hall and glanced around at the doors. Private, the sign said on one. “Henry, we can’t do this. It could be someone’s office!”

  “Good, that means there will be furniture. No one will know. It’ll be our little secret.” He shoved me inside the dim room, which was only lit by the muted sunshine coming through the blinds. “Perfect. A desk,” he murmured with a smirk. After setting the piece of cake down on the desktop, he pressed his body against me. “Now, let’s finish what we started this morning in the shower.” His harsh whisper made my body quake. He swiped the backs of his fingers across my cheek. “You look so fucking sexy in that dress.” He grabbed my arms and pinned them above my head. “Your legs are unreal, and your ass…” He pushed his hips into me. “You feel that? You feel what you do to me?”

  His zipper strained against his arousal. I bit down on my bottom lip, knowing how much I was addicted to all of him…his voice, his scent, his body, and his amazing hard length. “Henry…”

  “I’m going to fuck you so hard,” he promised with a growl.

  “Oh god… I want you.”

  “Do you?”

  “Henry, please. I’m aching for you.”

  He stepped away for a moment, the rustle of clothing filling the small office. He came back to me, jacket off and shirtless. I ran my hands over his pronounced chest. He was the sexiest man I have ever had the pleasure to lay my eyes and hands on. He touched his lips to my neck, making me shiver. The chuckle into my damp skin drove me wild.

  “You are a total fucking mess, aren’t you?”

  “God, yes. I need you.”

  “Not before we have dessert.”

  “Dessert can wait.” I reached down and wrapped my hand around the massive bulge in his pants. A stroke or five later, he rolled his eyes. A moan starting as a low rumble in his chest, pushed through his lips.

  “Fuck… Stop. You’ll make me come.”

  “Well, that is the goal, Mr. Daniels.”

  “Ms. Cooper, the goal is to come in you, not in my pants.”

  He took my hand and led me to the desk. Grabbing the dress by the bottom, he carefully pulled it over my head. I made sure to put on my black lace bra/panty set I wore on our very first date.

  “Well, well, well…,” he murmured with a smirk. “You look even better today than you did when I first saw you in those but, sadly, they have to go in order to have dessert.”

  He reached behind me, unhooked the clasp, pulled it off, and threw it over his shoulder. He knelt in front of me and nipped at my lower abdomen, then proceeded to slide my panties off one torturous inch at a time, biting at my hip bones. Finally, they dropped around my shoes. I couldn’t handle much more, already panting and on the verge of tumbling over the edge.

  “Shoes stay on.” The tip of his tongue snaked out of his mouth and ran up my already wet flesh. “Mmm… I should just feast on you for dessert. But no. We have a slice of cake to eat.” He stood and I kicked my panties…somewhere. Once stepping back, he shook his head.

  “What?”

  “Love, I didn’t think you could get any sexier, but every time I see you… So fucking amazing.”

  “Thank you,” I whispered with a flush extending down to my chest.

  He picked me up by the waist and set me on the top of the desk. I gasped as the cool surface came into contact with my heated body. “There. Now, it’s time for dessert.”

  Henry picked up the slice of cake and swiped his finger through the frosting. He looked at me with those eyes, glimmering with the devil. Holding his finger in front of my mouth, I went to lick it, but he pulled his hand back.

  “Hey!”

  Then he stuck it in his mouth, drawing out his finger. All evidence of the frosting was gone. I made a pouty face. “I had to make sure it wasn’t poisonous, my love.”

  “My turn. I’m an expert with my mouth, you know.”

  “Are you now?”

  “Mmm hmm.”

  He swiped his finger in the frosting again and held it close to my lips. I flicked my tongue out and touched the sweet, fragrant white cream. “Mmm…vanilla,” I murmured. I held his hand in mine, and drew his finger into my mouth, rolling my tongue all around it.

  Slowly, he pulled his finger out, turning it, examining it for any traces of frosting. “Well, it looks to me you are indeed an expert with your tongue.”

  “Why, thank you.”

  “No… Thank you. Lie back.” He set the plate down on the desk as I rested back on my elbows. “All the way. Relax.”

  I leaned back. Between the chill of the wood and the excitement of the situation, my body shuddered. Henry chuckled, and ran his fingers over my gooseflesh.

  “So beautiful,” he murmured.

  He dipped his finger into the frosting again, picking up a nice-sized dollop. Drawing a line down my neck, he murmured, “I’m going to kiss you here.” He dabbed a little on each peaked nipple. “And here.” He swiped his finger around each breast. “And here.” Another dip into the cake and a finger full of frosting, then he left little dots down the middle of my abdomen, circled around my na
vel, right to the very top of my slit. “All the way down to here.” Then he ran his finger over each hip bone. “And, of course, here.”

  When he stuck his finger into my mouth to clean off any remnants, I sucked on it like I would him.

  “Mmm…,” he groaned.

  My entire body trembled. He let out a low chuckle, and leaned down, licking the stripe of frosting off of my neck. I tipped my chin up, tightening my skin so I could feel every second his tongue dragged down to my chest. He watched me pant, my chest pumping hard. Then he latched onto my nipple, taking all the frosting. His tongue ran around the trail of one breast, then the other. He teased the other nipple, licking off all the frosting. He traveled down my abdomen and made it to the top of my slit.

  “Henry…,” I whimpered.

  “Something you need, love?”

  “Please…”

  After kicking off his shoes, he climbed onto the desk, stalking over the top of me like I was prey.

  His belt buckle rattled a second before he kicked off his pants. “Beg for me,” he growled as he lifted my leg, his tip grazing my heated flesh.

  “Oh god, please.”

  “What do you want?”

  “Henry…please.”

  “Beg for me,” he growled again.

  “Please…fuck me. I need you to fuck me.”

  “As you wish.”

  He covered my mouth with his palm. In one thrust, he filled me to my limit. Muffled, I cried out. My eyes rolled into the back of my head when he thrust again and again. His groan rattled me to my core. He reached down with his free hand and rubbed his thumb over my clit.

  Still muffled, I screamed into his hand, “Henry!” I came so hard, thrashing around, almost falling off the desk. He caught me, pulled out and leapt off the desk.

  “Suck me… Suck me off!” he ordered.

  I slipped off the desk, and dropped to my knees, gazing up at him. He stroked himself and pressed his tip to my lips. Diving in, I drew him right down my throat.

  “Oh fuck!” He fisted the back of my hair and shoved my face into his body, choking me on his length. “Shit,” he growled. He pulled out just as I thought I was about to die from the lack of oxygen. “More!”

  “Oh, god…”

  He pushed my head into him and down the hatch he went again. “Oh fuck, Elaina. I’m going to come down your throat.” He thrust continuously, not stopping between my gagging and choking, ignoring my struggle. Tears poured down my face as my body fought against him.

  Henry exploded and followed up with some serious throaty groans. I pulled away and rested my face against his muscular thigh, panting, my lungs screaming for oxygen. His hand found its way to the top of my head, playing with my hair.

  “You, my black-haired beauty, are amazing.”

  I gazed up at him again, his smile gentle, his eyes filled with the love he felt for me. “I can’t believe we just did that.”

  We laughed as he helped me to my feet. “Pretty insane, but fucking ridiculously good. Let’s get dressed…and you might want to find a mirror and adjust your make-up.”

  After dressing, he leaned against the desk and picked up what was left of the slice of cake. Examining it for a moment, he shrugged before digging the fork in and pulling out a large bite.

  “Mmm… The cake’s good, too,” he said with a smirk.

  “You’re something else.”

  “What? I’m hungry. I worked up an appetite.” Henry nodded as he held out the fork with a bite of cake on it. Happily, I accepted.

  “It is good, but I like the frosting better.”

  “Of course you do,” he chuckled.

  Once I retouched my make-up, we headed back out to the celebration. Claire and Marc were standing at the entrance of the hallway. I had forgotten about them again.

  “There you are!” she snipped. “Where were you? I was worried!”

  “Just checking out the building,” I murmured with a sly smirk.

  She crossed her arms, shifting her weight. “You two didn’t…” Then she shook her head.

  “Well, I’m about ready to go. Let’s go say congrats to Julian and get the fuck out of here.” I took Henry’s hand. He dropped the cake plate and fork in the trash as we sauntered off.

  Behind us, Claire muttered, “Unreal. They could have been caught.”

  “Kind of hot, actually,” Marc said. “I wouldn’t mind us getting a little naughty.”

  “No way! With my luck, someone would barge in. Plus, it’s totally inappropriate.”

  “You need to live a little, Claire. Tomorrow is never promised.”

  Shattered Lives: Broken Dreams

  Copyright © 2014 by Rissa Blakeley. All rights reserved.

  Published By Rissa Blakeley.

  Cover Art & Design by Cover-It Designs

  Edited by Kim's Editing Services

  Vector Artwork by Gert Erasmus Photo Editing

  Photography by Jim Arbogast

  E-Book Layout & Design by Ryan Fitzgerald

  The following is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living, dead, or undead is entirely coincidental.

  Except in the case of brief quotations for the purpose of critical analysis or review, no part of this book may be used, reproduced, or transmitted via any means (electronic, mechanical, or otherwise) without express, written permission from the author.

  All artwork used in the Shattered Lives series cannot be reproduced without written permission from the author, the cover art designer from Cover-It Designs, and vector artist from Gert Erasmus Photo Editing except in the case of author-approved promotions, critical articles, and reviews.

  Due to the dynamic nature of the Internet, website links contained within this book may be outdated and/or no longer valid.

  Edition: December 2014

  -August 2002-

  Training Complex

  East End, London, England

  “Right jab! Left jab! Right! Left! Keep going you weak, useless pieces of shit!” Gunther screamed at the recruits. He stalked down the row of heavy bags in the white, brightly lit gym, examining each one of the recruits’ positioning and power behind their punches. Two things broke up the monotony of the sterile environment: the blue of the gym mats, and the recruits dressed in solid black.

  Each recruit was required to dress the same…track pants and a fitted t-shirt…leaving no room for individuality. They were one and the same, machines training for a war that no one wanted to participate in, but didn’t have the choice to walk away. The only difference between them was their individual body structure. Out of the ten recruits that Gunther was training, there was only one female…Sophie Jackson.

  Sophie was brought in at the same time as Liam. Like Sophie, all recruits were renamed once they were accepted into the program. She was blonde, tall, and physically strong. She and Liam hit it off right away, after he stood up for her against Roger, the program director. She appreciated Liam’s efforts, even though it caused him to get a beat down.

  Sophie and Liam had been spending as much time as they could together since that day. Using their program-issued cell phones to communicate with one another, they would sneak into each other’s room in the middle of the night. There was no idle chatting during training—silence was expected and demanded. You didn’t speak unless spoken to.

  Sophie and Liam would text one another to meet up in the complex to do what teens do…chat about the goings on within their hellish environment and, of course, have sex. When Liam could get his hands on a bottle of booze, they would get shit-faced together, as well.

  Gunther continued down the row of sweat-ridden, near vomiting fatigued recruits, correcting stances and shouting instructions. Liam was at the last bag, working hard to keep his nerves at bay, and trying to keep up the façade. Hearing Gunther’s heavy footsteps come closer to his spot left him out of sorts. The
lights in the room highlighted every bead of sweat that was trickling down his face and dripping onto the blue mat beneath his bare feet.

  Gunther abruptly stopped and stood in front of Liam, staring down at him with his arms crossed over his expansive chest. His lips were curled up into a wicked smirk.

  He was commanded by Roger to be extra strict with Liam. He didn’t know the reason behind it, but he wasn’t going to ask any questions. Questioning the boss wouldn’t get you anywhere, except tied to a chair and served a beat down with a side of tasing. It happened to Gunther more times than he would care to admit, and he wasn’t hungry for that again.

  One particular beating that he would never forget happened when the recruits themselves were the ones forced to serve up the beating. Liam was amongst that group. Without a doubt, it was the most humiliating experience of his so-called life.

  Gunther positioned himself in front of Liam’s bag and pushed his six-foot-five, two hundred and forty pound muscled frame into it. Liam, who was just under six feet tall and about one hundred and seventy-five pounds of lean mass, was staring back at him as he threw his instructed punches. He wasn’t going to show Gunther that he was intimidated in the least. It could have been because he was head-strong, or maybe he was just plain stupid.

  “Harder! Make me move, you zero,” Gunther growled.

  Liam unleashed the beast that was lurking inside, which was always close to the surface. He hit the bag with such force that he dislocated his right shoulder. There was a sickening pop, and he cried out in pain and fell to his knees. Bile rose in his throat. While he was trying to breathe through his excruciating pain, Gunther viciously pushed the bag into him, knocking him ass over tits.