Going the Distance (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Cara Addison

  Her smile was his answer.

  “Holy mother of…” he whispered, falling back onto the sheets.

  She took another long drink before walking to the window, flanked by two wingback chairs. She stood quietly looking out over the panoramic view of the bay.

  “What a gorgeous view,” she commented, scanning the hundreds of yachts and naval ships that dotted the coast.

  “That’s what I was thinking.”

  She looked over her shoulder at him. He was propped up on one arm. “I’m talking about the bay.” She smiled, pointing out the window.

  “I wasn’t.” He smiled, revealing a set of perfect white teeth. “I was talking about you.” He stood up and walked over to her. She returned her attention to the outside world. “You have a lovely ass,” he whispered, pulling off her bikini bottom and running his hands down her back to her bottom.

  He brushed her hair back and softly kissed her neck, sending a shiver down her back. She inhaled sharply as he kissed her again, his hand reaching around to softly probe between her legs. “You’re wet,” he whispered, kissing her mouth hungrily as he eagerly slid his fingers into her moist slit.

  She closed her eyes and leaned forward, planting the palm of her hand against the cold glass. “That…feels…” She gasped as he slid his finger up and around her clit. “Really…”

  He turned her slightly and moved to face her, kissing and deftly exploring her mouth with his tongue. He kissed his way down to her breasts as he pulled a nipple between his lips. She whimpered, savoring the intense pleasure.

  He kissed down her flat, toned stomach, lifting her foot to the windowsill, pushing her knee away. “I want to kiss your pussy.”

  She moaned, and bit her lip as he softly licked her. She tilted her hips, exposing her swollen lips to him. Her eyelids were heavy as he licked up one side and down the other before sliding a finger into her. A cry escaped as he pulled her clit into his mouth and flicked his tongue across it. Her body quivered as he slipped a second finger into her, gently fucking her.

  “Don’t stop,” she begged. The intensity of her moans increased as he probed and kissed. Her knees buckled as she gasped. “I’m going…to…come.” She locked her eyes on his as he pressed his tongue firmly against her clit. She cried out, audibly releasing the tension that had grown throughout her body. Her muscles trembled and twitched as she came, her pussy throbbing against his fingers.

  She sank to the chair behind her. He stood and quickly retrieved a foil packet from the black box he had left on the bed. He walked back to her and quickly rolled the latex onto his hardened shaft. He dropped to his knees and spread her legs as he pulled her hips to the edge of the chair.

  “I want you to fuck me,” she whispered.

  He slipped the tip of his cock into her then pulled out and pressed it up against her clit. She moaned, an aftershock ripping through her body.

  He thrust his cock into her. “Damn,” he moaned. “You’re coming again, aren’t you?” He pushed deeper into her with each thrust. “I can feel your pussy clenching tight against my cock.” He thrust again and again.

  “Deeper,” she begged. “I want all of you.”

  He spread her legs wide, pressing deep into her. “Yes-s-s,” she moaned, lifting her hips to meet his.

  “Christ, you’re a handful,” he murmured, looking down at her wet pussy as she thrust against him.

  It was only a few moments before she began to moan, feeling the tension build again as he thrust against her. She moaned louder and louder. “Come with me,” she begged, clutching the armrest of the chair. She arched her back, thrusting her hips against him as a wave of pleasure washed over her.

  He groaned, her tight pussy throbbing against him. He thrust until his body shuddered, releasing his cum into her.

  He slumped his spent body against hers. She ran her fingers through his hair, lying back, perfectly relaxed.

  “I was going to go to the gym.” He laughed lightly into her breasts. “But I decided to play hooky and go to the pool instead.”

  “I think you’ve had your workout for today,” she assured him as she sat up, leaning forward to kiss him.

  Brett stood, and walked to the bathroom. She could hear him splash water on his face as she slipped her beach dress back on. She quickly glanced at her smartphone.

  “Shit,” she whispered in disgust.

  “What’s the matter?” he asked, walking toward the bed.

  “I’ve got about a hundred e-mails and messages.” She looked around the room. “Why don’t you pack up a few things? Especially those.” She pointed to the box of condoms on the bed. “Let’s go to my suite. I’ve got to respond to some of these messages.”

  “Suite?” he asked.

  She was reading a message on her phone. “My publicist booked me a suite. She was supposed to travel with me, but had a medical emergency and couldn’t travel.”

  She stood and grabbed her beach bag before walking to the door. He hadn’t moved.

  She felt a pang of disappointment. “You’re not coming?”

  “You’re serious?”

  “I’m very serious.” She smiled, walking over to him and pulling him to his feet. “I’m not even close to being done with you,” she added, rising on her toes to kiss him.

  He threw on a pair of gray shorts and a black striped T-shirt before tossing a few items into his toiletry bag. He grabbed his room key and phone, and met her at the door. “After you,” he whispered, pulling open the door for her.

  They stepped onto the elevator, and she pressed the button for the twenty-fourth floor. She led him down the hall where she slipped her room key into the lock and breezed through the door of the two-bedroom Executive Suite. “Make yourself comfortable,” she invited, walking down the hall past the first bedroom, toward the spacious living area.

  He was standing on the balcony, scanning the bay, when she returned from the bedroom, having slipped on a pair of shorts over her bikini.

  She sat at the desk and opened her laptop. She quickly typed out a response to a dozen e-mails before she opened her Facebook page. “There’s a full minibar.” She pointed to the fridge. “Help yourself.”

  He grabbed two bottles of water, opening one and setting it on the desk next to her computer. “Thank you.”

  “What are you doing?” he asked, pointing to the computer.

  “I’ve found that social media is a great way to promote the book,” she responded, tethering her smartphone to the computer to transfer new photos. “Readers often want their photo taken with an author, so I load them onto the dedicated Facebook page. People love to see themselves, and they tag their photo. That shows up on their own page, and the book suddenly has exposure to hundreds of people who I wouldn’t otherwise have access to.”

  He watched as page notifications flashed on the screen, showing a rush of activity by her online fan base. “That’s incredible!” he exclaimed.

  She opened another Internet tab, and logged into her account with the publishing house. “Excellent.”

  “What’s that?” he asked, staring at the screen of graphs and charts.

  “It shows me how many e-books have been purchased.” She changed the online parameters to show sales over the past thirty days. “You can see the spike in activity since the convention began,” she added, pointing to the graph.

  “Wow. That’s amazing. You’ve sold two hundred fifty books today?” She nodded.

  She switched back to her Facebook page, quickly crafting a status update. She typed, “What a fantastic time at the convention today. I had so much fun meeting Jessica, Jennifer, and Amanda. Thanks for coming out to the book reading, ladies!”

  “You remember their names?” he asked looking at the screen.

  “Are you kidding? I met three hundred people today. I don’t have a clue what their names were.” She paused. “But statistically, those are the three most popular names for women born in the 1980s. There had to have been a dozen or so people with thos
e names in attendance today.”

  “That is diabolical.” Brett laughed, leaning over the back of her chair and kissing her. His stomach rumbled in her ear.

  “You’re hungry,” she observed, looking at the clock on her computer. It was almost six o’clock. “I have dinner reservations at seven in the Gaslamp District. Want to join me?” she asked, looking up at him.

  “I’d love to,” he said. “But I have something I’d like to do first,” he added, sliding his hands down the inside of the loose beach dress that she was still wearing, cupping her breasts in his manicured hands.

  She closed the laptop, clearly signaling that she was done with her work.

  He kneaded her breasts, slowly focusing his attention on each nipple. She moaned and leaned back, closing her eyes.

  “You like that?”

  “Very much,” she whispered.

  “Come here,” he murmured, sliding his hands out from under the fabric and helping her to her feet.

  He led her to the sofa in the middle of the room and sat down.

  “Where did you put the box of condoms?” she asked, scanning the room.

  “The bathroom.”

  Austin walked toward the bathroom. “Where’s your phone?” she asked from the doorway to the bedroom.

  “Right here in my pocket,” he responded, looking at her quizzically.

  “Right. It’s always within arm’s reach, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.”

  “Let’s just assume that, for the next few days, those condoms”—she pointed in the direction she was headed—“shouldn’t be any farther away than your phone.”

  A crooked grin spread across his face as she continued on to retrieve the precious latex. He was still smiling when she returned, placing a foil wrapper next to his now-naked body. She picked up his phone and slipped off the protective case, stashing three more condoms inside before she replaced the cover.

  “You may want to stop at a drugstore while we’re out,” she added as he tugged off her shorts.

  “You don’t beat around the bush, do you?”

  “Interesting choice of words.” She smiled wryly as she straddled his knees. He pulled her dress over her head and tossed it onto a nearby chair.

  “Not really,” he added, running his finger across her fully waxed bikini area. His hands moved over her body and to her breasts, where he brushed and pulled at her nipples.

  She watched him intently as he hardened. “That is beautiful,” she whispered, brushing her finger up his shaft. She circled her middle finger around the rim, slowly increasing pressure. She dropped her hand between her legs, swirling her fingers in the fluid that had formed. He moaned as she returned her slippery, moist fingers to the head of his cock, spreading her juices as she slipped her fingers up and around.

  He tore open the foil package and rolled the latex onto his shaft. She kissed him as he held his shaft for her. She lifted her hips, and slowly lowered, moaning as he filled her. “Fuck,” she whispered, “that feels good.”

  A smile crossed his face as he placed his hands on her hips, moving her up and down, pressing more and more of him into her with each plunge.

  “These are so”—he pulled a breast into his mouth, nibbling and flicking his tongue across her hard nipple—“fucking beautiful.”

  She moaned, throwing her head back as she began to grind against him. He twisted her nipple and gently tugged, sending a spasm through her body. “Oh God,” she moaned over and over, riding him faster. Her fingernails dug into his shoulder as she bit her lip.

  “Don’t hold back,” he urged her. “I want you to come.”

  She cried out as a surge of raw gratification washed over her and bolts of delight fired through her body.

  “Don’t stop,” he begged her, moving her hips up and down. Her legs ached from exhaustion as she rode him. He pushed his head back against the cushions, and thrust his hips to meet her. He let out a long, slow moan as he came, slowly lowering his hips to the sofa. She came to rest against his chest, breathing deeply as her heart rate gradually returned to normal.

  “I’m going to take a shower and get dressed,” she whispered lazily.

  She walked to the bathroom, and stood under the hot shower for a few minutes before lathering and rinsing. She gingerly washed between her legs, her body still throbbing from the afternoon’s adventures.

  She stepped out of the shower as he entered the bathroom. “Mind if I shower?” he asked as she wrapped herself in a towel.

  “Not at all.”

  She pulled on a pair of white panties and matching bra before selecting a pair of white casual shorts and navy top.

  “How dressy is this restaurant?” he called from the shower.

  “It’s pretty casual,” she responded, “You’ll be fine in the J. Crews you were wearing.”

  He leaned out of the shower. “How do you know my shorts are from J. Crew?”

  She retrieved his shorts and shirt from the living room and held them up. “I read the label.”

  “Smart-ass.”

  She touched up her makeup as he toweled off. He slid back into his clothes, ready to step out the door just minutes after stepping from the shower.

  She grabbed a purse, adding her room key and smartphone to the items in the bag before joining him at the door.

  They walked along East Harbor Drive to Fifth Avenue, holding hands as they crossed over the train tracks after a trolley passed by. They chatted as they navigated the busy street for four blocks to Market Street, entering the Blue Point Coastal Cuisine restaurant just past seven o’clock. “Reservation for…” He paused, not knowing what name she had booked the reservation under.

  “Campbell,” she finished the sentence for him. “Austin Campbell.”

  “Right this way.” They followed the hostess to the only vacant table left in the restaurant. It was a quiet spot by the window, just as she had requested. He held her chair for her as she sat before taking the seat opposite her.

  “What are you in the mood for?” Brett asked, surveying the menu.

  She smiled cautiously. “I picked this restaurant because they have exceptional seafood. The oysters have been recommended to me.”

  He laughed. “I’m not entirely sure I should let you have oysters, Austin. You’re already lascivious enough.”

  She raised an eyebrow at him. “That’s an awfully big word.”

  “It’s a lot of pressure going on a date with an author. I have to bring my A game.”

  She smiled as she surveyed the menu. “What are you having?”

  “I’m not sure. The tuna looks good, but so does the filet mignon. You?”

  “I think I’ll have the swordfish.”

  The waiter arrived and introduced himself. Brett ordered them each a cocktail.

  “There are some ladies behind you that are very obviously talking about you,” he said, glancing at a booth behind her. She didn’t bother to turn and look.

  “That’s comes with the territory, I’m afraid.” A moment later, one of the ladies approached their table.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, but are you Miss Madison?”

  Austin smiled warmly at her, noticing Brett’s confused expression. “Yes, I am.”

  “Oh, I thought so. I attended your book reading this morning,” she gushed. “I just love this novel. I couldn’t put it down.”

  “That’s very kind,” Austin replied. “I just hope you put it down long enough to reach beneath the sheets as you read.”

  The lady blushed. “Would you sign my copy?” she asked timidly, reaching into her purse.

  “Of course,” she replied, retrieving a pen. “What was your favorite part?”

  “Oh, I loved the entire chapter on the beach.” She paused as Austin scribbled a phrase inside the front cover. “But my husband really enjoyed the way you described the closet scene.” She giggled.

  Austin glanced up to observe Brett raise his eyebrows at the lady.

  “He installed wall-to-wa
ll mirrors in our closet after reading that.”

  “What page is that?” Brett asked, reaching across the table for the book. Austin playfully smacked his hand.

  Austin chuckled. “That’s very flattering. I hope you enjoy them very much.” She handed the book back to her fan. “I have two new novels coming out in the next few weeks. Be sure to connect on Facebook to stay up to date on the new release.”

  “Oh, I will.” She smiled broadly, clutching the book to her chest.

  The waiter delivered their drinks and Brett placed their dinner order as she put her pen back in her purse.

  “Seriously, what page?” he asked as the waiter turned to place their order.

  She pulled out her copy of the book and flipped to page 288, already marked with a tab that said “Mirrors.” She handed it to him. “Are you sure you want to read this in public?”

  She followed his eyes as he scanned the page. She knew exactly what he was reading when his eyes widened and he instinctively licked his lips. He set the book down when he had finished the segment. “Are there mirrors in your hotel room?”

  “I believe there are,” she answered, lifting her glass. “Cheers.”

  “Cheers.” He clinked her glass and took a sip of his drink. “Why did she call you Miss Madison?”

  “It’s my pen name,” she responded, pointing to the cover of the novel. “I didn’t want to use my own name for a variety of reasons, so I used a pseudonym.”

  “Is this all based on personal experience?” he asked, tapping the book.

  She reached across the table and put the book back in her purse. She sighed. “Some of it is loosely based on personal experience.” She took a long drink. “Some of it is based on stories that my friends have shared. Some of it is just…pure imagination. That’s the fun of being an author.”

  “So you haven’t,” he searched for the right word, “…performed all of these acts?”

  “There are more than three dozen descriptive or implied sexual acts in that book. I’d be a very busy girl if I’d written them all from personal experience.”

  “How long are you in town?” he asked as the waiter delivered the platter of oysters and two glasses of prosecco.