Untamed (Untamed #1)

by Green, Victoria

  Arching my back, I gripped his hair and pushed my hips harder into him, moaning as I pressed against his hardness. Dare hooked his fingers under my knees to part my thighs and lift my legs so I could wrap them around his waist. A whimper escaped my lips when the rough denim of his jeans scraped against my core, my nails instinctively digging into his back.

  His stubble grazed my hyper-sensitive skin as he continued to kiss his way down my body. One hand cupped my ass, while the other slid beneath my dress, inching closer and closer to the ache between my thighs. My panties were soaked, my desire for him spiraling out of control. No. Not desire. Necessity. I needed him. Or I was going to spontaneously combust.

  “I want you out of this dress,” he said as if he could read my mind. “Now.”

  “You first.” One hand tugged at the collar of his jacket, forcing the material over his shoulders while the other pulled up the hem of his black t-shirt. I could barely budge them.

  Crap.

  We were too entwined to strip with ease, so my fingers slid under his shirt, too impatient to get to his bare body. The smoothness of his warm skin was a striking contrast to the hard ridges of his abs, and the contact caused a thrill of tingles to shoot through me. He felt so, so GOOD. When I grazed the waistband of his jeans with the tips of my fingers, his muscles contracted beneath my touch. He cursed under his breath, claiming my lips with such intensity I saw bursts of light behind my eyes.

  The world around us became a blur. Nothing else existed except the two of us. Dare and me. Our heavy breathing and the synchronized thump of our hearts over the soundtrack of carnal groans, moans, and growls. Fueled by pure lust, we shuffled our way deeper into his apartment, my legs still clinging to his hips as he led the way toward what I hoped was his bed.

  And nakedness.

  Our bodies slammed into the exposed brick wall and random pieces of furniture as our hands worked diligently to tear off every piece of fabric they came in contact with. Dare’s jacket fell to the floor with a heavy thud. His shirt followed, flying over his head. I lost one heel god knows where. The other shoe managed to cling on until we collided with a console table.

  By the time we stumbled into the kitchen, Dare was down to just jeans. Without breaking our kiss, he set me on top of the dining room table and spread my thighs wide open so he could push himself between my legs. His fingers hooked into my thong, and in one skillful tug, the lace ripped free.

  He parted my knees wider, then slid his palms up my inner thighs, igniting a firestorm of tingles everywhere he touched. The higher his hands climbed, the louder and more frenzied my moans grew. As his thumb grazed my clit, I bit back a startled gasp and pressed my hips into him, sliding closer to the edge of the table so the rest of his hand could have full access to me.

  “More. Please, more.” My words swam in a realm between pleas and demands.

  He thrust two fingers inside me and groaned. “You’re so fucking wet.”

  My head tipped back and he slid his tongue into my mouth, muffling my cries as his fingers began to move in and out. First slowly and torturously, then picking up speed and intensity until his hand pulsed to the precise rhythm of the throb between my thighs.

  Kissing his way down my chest, his free hand tugged on the bodice of my dress, partially exposing my right breast. My breath caught in my throat when his mouth connected with the tender skin. His tongue flicked along my cleavage, diving deeper under the silky fabric until his lips found my nipple. When his teeth began to nip and tease the sensitive nerves, his mouth and tongue both working me to the cadence of his fingers, my head started to spin.

  Right and wrong, life and death—nothing fucking mattered.

  My back bowed as he delved deeper into me with each thrust, beckoning me closer and closer toward the edge I was so desperate to reach. I bit into his shoulder and he increased his tempo until my thighs were quivering. My toes curled in delightful agony as every nerve in my body coiled in preparation for the relief I so severely craved.

  Dare continued to wind me tighter and tighter, his fingers pumping in and out while his tongue skillfully flicked my nipple. He was everywhere, moving faster and harder with each stroke and every lick until I could no longer tell where he ended and I began.

  Waves of pleasure crashed into me as I came undone with a guttural scream. My body rocked off the table, crumpling against him. And there was something…sweet…about collapsing into Dare’s arms.

  Jesus. Had I really just thought that? This guy was not only driving me physically insane, he was clearly also messing with my head. Both my body and mind were so full of him I didn’t have room for anything else. I just wanted to exist in the present.

  I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt that way in my entire life.

  Wanting to hang on to the high, I slipped my hands into the back pocket of his jeans and dug my fingers into the firm flesh of his ass to draw him closer. The heat of his erection pressed against my naked core, driving me wild as I reached for the top button of his jeans.

  “Condom?” I whispered, urgently ripping the button open. I always carried some in my purse, but my clutch was somewhere on the floor buried amidst the trail of clothes. There was no way in hell was I going to disengage from THIS to go search for it.

  Dare nodded his chin across the room. “Nightstand.” Then he picked me up and carried me to his bed.

  And everything slowed down.

  His hands released me, and I slid down the front of him inch by inch until my feet touched the floor, my legs shaking, my body aching with need.

  “I want you naked.” His voice was low and husky, sending shivers over my skin.

  I reached for the zipper on my back, but he grabbed my wrist to stop me. Placing one hand on my hip, he slowly turned me around so that I was facing away from him. His fingers found the zipper and he dragged it down, taking his sweet time to get all the way to the bottom. My dress opening and our ragged breaths were the only sounds in the quiet room. Leisurely, he guided the dress down my body, letting the fabric caress my skin. It fell to the floor, pooling at my feet in a silky heap, and I stepped out of it.

  I was about to turn and face him when he whispered, “Wait.” He moved my hair over my shoulder, exposing my bare back. “I want to see you.” His fingers glided over my neck and upper back, then trailed down my spine and skimmed over the curve of my ass. “All of you.”

  He kissed one shoulder, then the other, making his way up my neck to my ear.

  “You’re beautiful, Reagan.”

  The heat from his lips shot through my naked body, burrowing deep inside me as his fingers trailed down the back of my thighs. He slid them toward the ache between my legs, brushing me gently, drawing out a moan from my lips. With his mouth firmly pressed to my neck, he glided his hands over my waist and down my stomach to the front of my thighs.

  “So beautiful.” He turned me around and explored my front with hungry eyes and even hungrier hands. His gaze lingered on my mouth and his thumb followed its path, caressing the swollen skin. Back and forth, up and down. When I parted my lips and skimmed the pad with my tongue, he groaned and allowed me a taste. As I sucked, his breath quickened and his eyes filled with desire.

  He brushed my lips once more as I released him, and then slowly slid his hand all the way down to the curve of my breast. My nipples were hard, but as his fingers trailed over them, they tensed and tightened. His hand traveled farther south, skating over my ribs, his fingers gently dragging across them as if he was memorizing every bone.

  Dare’s pupils were dilated so wide his eyes reminded me of dark, stormy pools of tar. Tar and lust. Everything about his movements was carefully calculated and painfully slow. I wanted to scream. My pulse quickened until I felt like I was going to lose it. Again. Just from simple touching.

  When his hand finally dipped lower into my pulsing heat, I couldn’t bear it any longer. I reached for the open button of his jeans and tugged. Or, rather, ripped. The button-fly burst apart, exposing more
of him than I’d anticipated.

  Dare was not wearing ANYTHING under his jeans.

  That may have been my favorite thing about him at that moment.

  I slid the pants over his hips and down his legs, trying not to gape at him. But he was built unlike any other man I’d ever been with—all length and muscle and power.

  He guided me to the edge of the bed, lowering me on top of the covers as he reached over to retrieve a tiny foil packet from the nightstand. He ripped the package with his teeth and rolled the condom on with one hand as the fingers of his other hand trailed up my thigh.

  And, just like that, the slow motion gave way to insatiable hunger again. I pulled him down, crushing my mouth to his, no longer able to hold back. I wanted him—no, needed him. NOW.

  I gasped when he entered me, his length burying deep inside, his thickness stretching me so wide I had to bite down on his shoulder to keep from crying out. He claimed my hips with his hands, his fingers digging into my flesh as he began to thrust. Gently, then faster and harder until I couldn’t think anymore. All I could feel was him and the way his muscles rippled with every unrestrained move.

  I completely lost myself in him, allowed him to fully possess me. His name was the only thought in my head, the single word at the tip of my tongue as the orgasm began to rock through me. But I bit the “Dare!” back—my one last shred of control still intact.

  Still, for the first time in my life, I felt something as I exploded.

  Dare pulled my arms over my head as I quivered beneath him, his fingers linking with mine as he pressed my hands into the mattress. He kissed me like he couldn’t get enough of me—like every kiss only made him want a hundred more. My climax triggered his, causing him to groan and deepen the kiss, refusing to let go of my hands or my lips.

  He didn’t stop kissing me even after we began the slow descent from the high. In fact, his lips only grew hungrier as his thrusts subsided. His mouth made me feel like I’d never been kissed before this, like his touch would last an entire lifetime. His lips were untamed, unabashed, and unapologetic.

  After what felt like an eternity under his warmth, he broke the kiss and pulled back to look at me. Just look at me. No strings. No complications.

  “Reagan?” he whispered, stilling his movement, but still refusing to leave me.

  “Mmm?”

  “You’re smiling.”

  six

  The wail of sirens startled me awake. My eyes snapped open. Where the hell was I? Flashing red lights shining through an open window on my right were accompanied by honking horns and unintelligible yelling. Not my apartment, obviously. So where exactly? And why?

  A few seconds ticked by as my hazy brain tried to make sense of my surroundings. The exposed wooden beams on the ceiling weren’t familiar. Neither was the gray sheet covering my naked body. And—oh, god—there was a warm figure lying next to me. On top of me, actually. The weight of his muscular arm felt so right as it rested across my stomach that I had the urge to close my eyes and stay cuddled under it for the rest of the night.

  WHAT?

  The fog inside my mind cleared and it all suddenly came flooding back. The club. The tequila. The pills. And…Dare. Dare’s kisses. His hands, touch, voice. His gift for making me forget about everything else in my fucked-up world. At least for a few hours.

  But…fuck. I fell asleep in his bed.

  My body shot up as my heart kicked into overdrive. I didn’t do this. EVER. I wasn’t the type to linger after a one-night stand. And I sure as hell never SLEPT with the guys I hooked up with. The rule was to get out as soon as they…well, got out.

  My head throbbed—a familiar hangover, amplified tenfold by the panic pulsing in my chest. I glanced over at the alarm clock on the nightstand. Four forty-five a.m. Thank god. There was still an hour to sunrise. Still time to escape unnoticed and pretend I was never here. And, most importantly, to forget that Dare was the first guy in four years to make me feel something.

  Carefully, so as not to rouse him, I lifted his arm off my stomach and swung my legs over the side of the bed. I had to get out and not look back. But before I could will my feet to move, I risked another glance at him. Even in deep sleep with his jaw set and his brow furrowed slightly, he looked so sure of himself. Like his life had direction and purpose.

  It was…beautiful. He was beautiful.

  Moonlight caressed his smooth skin, shining down on a tattoo of a phoenix on his shoulder. As he inhaled and exhaled, his muscles expanded and contracted, causing the bird to look like it was about to take flight. Mesmerized by the art and its lifelike motion, I reached out, wanting nothing more than to trace it with my fingertips. My hand hovered over Dare’s body, his warmth beckoning me. I couldn’t help it, and the instant I touched him, heat shot through my body.

  I jumped off the bed like a girl possessed.

  Time to go.

  I speed-dialed my car service and sprinted through the apartment, gathering my things. Never had I been so desperate to flee the scene. Dress. Check! Clutch? Uhh…shit. Where the hell was it? YES! Good. First shoe. Second. Got it. Underwear? UNDERWEAR?! Damn it! The unfamiliar layout didn’t help. Finally, I just had to give up and go commando.

  The idea that I hadn’t made a clean exit should’ve scared the shit out of me. Strangely, though, knowing that I’d left behind a piece of myself for Dare to keep had the opposite effect. It filled me with an unfamiliar, inexplicable warmth.

  As I stepped into my car and set off for Fifth Avenue, I realized that my lips were turned up in a small, secret smile. For the second time tonight, it was a truly genuine one.

  “Reagan, are you even listening to the words coming out of my mouth?” I was an expert at tuning out my mother’s voice, but it had a way of grating on my nerves enough to break through. “How many times have I told you to dress appropriately for breakfast?”

  You’d think we were at the freaking White House, sharing the table with the President, Pope, and Queen of England. Or that maybe I was in my nighty with unbrushed teeth, knots in my hair, and elbows on the table. No. I’d snuck back to my parents’ penthouse apartment just in time to shower, dress, and rush down to the dining room without being missed.

  My hair was up in a tight bun, I had on black leggings and a loose, blue cardigan, and—despite my hangover—I was even managing to sit up straight. Anywhere else, I’d be perfectly presentable. In Nathaniel and Olivia McKinley’s house, however, I was breaking countless etiquette rules. And all this before eight a.m.

  “I truly wish you would go back upstairs and put on some make-up.” My mother, a lawyer-turned-dutiful-homemaker-slash-photo-op-philanthropist, was on one of her usual tirades. “You look sickly pale, Reagan.”

  So glad we were starting off with the easy stuff this morning.

  “I feel fine. Maybe it’s the lighting.” I motioned to the row of crystal chandeliers above the oversized table. “When was the last time you got new ones?” She was on a permanent redecorating mission. Every month, another room. When she made it through the entire house, she started all over again.

  At the moment, the entire two top floors were glaringly white—walls, furniture, floors. There was so little color in their world—I was grateful I’d be moving back into my Riverside apartment that afternoon. I craved color like I needed air.

  “Do not patronize your mother, Reagan.” As Chairman and president of McKinley Enterprises, my father was much too busy to care how many times my mother redid the place. Nor how much money she spent. After all, a quarter of all real estate development across the country relied on his company’s business. And he was about to go global.

  “I did not hear you come in last night.” My mother narrowed her ice blue eyes at me. “What time did you return from your date with Archer Chase?”

  “Late,” I said. Thanks to Dare.

  “Well, at least it is nice to see you smile without me having to remind you, for a change,” she said. “You must have had a lovely time with Archer
. We are so delighted you agreed to see him. His mother called to tell me she sent you an exclusive Valentino dress for the occasion. I hope you remembered to wear it.”

  “Uh-huh.” I wore it. And then I took it off. Or well, Dare took it off, his hands sliding over my bare skin as the dress slipped to the floor…

  “Reagan Allison McKinley. How many times have I told you that your father and I will not tolerate one-word answers? We have not spent hundreds of thousands of dollars on private education to be grunted at.”

  “Sorry,” I said. Realizing that was also just one word, I added, “I apologize.” There. TWO words.

  It was hard to believe that once upon a time I used to stay up at night hoping one of them would come home from whatever corporate meeting or charity function they were attending to tuck me in and check for monsters under my bed. When I still thought hugs, kisses, and warm smiles were something my parents would figure out how to do—like those families in the movies.

  They never did. Hell, they never even tried.

  “Write Mallory Chase a proper thank you note today,” my mother said. “It is imperative. We will need the Huntington-Chases’ support on your father’s new venture soon. A very important one.”

  I glanced at my father. “What new venture? Your company going international? What would the Chase family have to do with that?”

  My father set down his fork. “You will hear about it Friday night when your brother and sister come over for a family meeting.”

  “You mean a family dinner?” I muttered. Why did I even bother correcting him? McKinley dinners were business transactions.

  He pointed a finger at me. “Do not be late.” Then he cleared his throat. “Over the next few months—years, hopefully—our family will be setting out on a life-changing path. Your mother and I expect full cooperation from all of you.” There was an emphasis on you like he really meant to say I know we don’t have to worry about Pierce and Quincy, but YOU, Reagan, better behave. Or else. There was always the threat of or else with my father.