ShamelesslyTaken

by Blue, Mel

  “Chris,” she moaned.

  His fingers gripped her hips and his thrusts went deeper. “Layla…fuck. Come. Now.”

  Her body went taut against him, but he continued to pound into her. He gritted his teeth but a guttural noise still broke through his lips. Heat bloomed in his chest, his balls and up his spine. Fuck. His toes had curled into the carpet. He pumped once, twice and came. Whatever blood had been left in his head drained and he staggered.

  A few seconds ticked by, and he could feel the sting of her high heels against his back. His legs had a nice sex-tremble working its way up from his knees to his thighs.

  Amazing, really, he could laugh. He hadn’t felt that light in over a year. He glanced down at Layla. She bit the side of her lip and laughed too.

  “Please tell me that was a fumble, Chris.”

  He laughed harder, resting his head on hers. Technically, he had been out of practice. He grinned. “That was a clumsy grope in the dark.”

  FIREWORKS

  When Layla had imagined what would happen at the hotel, eating while sitting on the floor surrounded by pillows and being somewhat covered by a sheet definitely wasn’t what she’d envisioned. Barely eight in the evening when he walked into the room, they’d decided to stay up and watch the fireworks kiss the sky at midnight.

  “Shelly does what now?” she asked him.

  His arm rested over the couch’s cushion and his legs stretched forward. He wasn’t modest about his body. He sat naked on the floor, eating. He hadn’t participated in sports back in college, but he hadn’t been a slouch either. It served him well now as evidenced by his stomach’s muscular ridges. His legs looked like he played soccer or some other sport that required daily squats. Naked, the man was a work of hard, lickable planes.

  What the hell were they talking about again?

  “She teaches preschool.” He grabbed a shrimp from the cocktail tray, inspected it in the dim light, and bit it off right near the tail.

  “She was such a bitch. Now she teaches little impressionable kids? I fear for our future.”

  He snorted. “Me too.” He crossed his arms. “But you’re teaching adults Hamlet. How is that?”

  She shrugged. “I love being able to see that spark in someone’s eyes. You know how it was in high school. You didn’t care about that stuff, but when an adult falls in love with Hamlet or The Awakening, it’s different.” She sat up, securing the sheet with one hand. The carpet’s fibers had started to dig into her elbow. “Almost like falling in love for the first time, except it’s better because that love gets past all your cynical safeguards.”

  Chris shrugged. “I can see your point, unless you start waxing poetic about Moby Dick.”

  She picked up one of the cloth napkins and tossed it at him. “I’m not that bad. Plus, I hate that book.”

  She reached for a shrimp, unsure how far she could push. She had no illusions they’d leave this hotel together. Did some part of her hope they did? Yeah. Wouldn’t that be romantic and a bit sappy? The idea appealed to her, but one night didn’t change the years they’d spent apart.

  Still, there was an itch between her shoulder blade. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” she started.

  “What happened to my wife?” His voice grew darker than the night outside.

  Instead of confirming, she waited to see what he’d say next. If he brought up one of their other classmates, she’d let the question go. But she wanted him to answer. Almost needed him to.

  Chris sighed, unfolding his arms to ball his fist at his sides. “Sandra died a year ago. Overdosed on prescription meds. We could never have kids and then she started bleeding like crazy every month. Then every day. Nothing worked. They performed a hysterectomy and that had complications. She had a shitload of pain afterward, but I didn’t know…I never suspected she’d become addicted to the meds.”

  She taught adult education. She’d heard that story plenty of times. She knew how a person’s life could be derailed, how hard they hid their addiction, how deep that hole was to climb out. How hard that must be to watch a family member spiral out of control like that. Her heart broke for him.

  They’d graduated and she assumed they’d somehow stay in touch, but life, as always, happened. When he did cross her mind, she’d always smiled.

  What would she do now, when they walked away after tonight? The night was far from over and she didn’t have to think about that yet.

  She pushed the plate closer to him, her appetite suddenly gone. “What time is it? I don’t want to miss the fireworks.”

  He reached to his left and dragged his pants over to him. After a second of digging he pulled out his cell phone. The light illuminated his face. By now, most men would have looked like one wink from dozing off. Chris just looked rumpled. He looked sexy.

  “Twenty minutes ’till a new year.” He glanced at her. “What?”

  She must have been looking at him like the cartoons of old where the other person turns into a piece of meat and they are starving.

  “It’s just…” She chuckled. “You’re sitting there naked, looking cocky.” She thought about it. “Now that I think about that the only thing that’s truly changed about this scenario between us is you’re naked.”

  “I was not that bad.” He paused. “Okay, I always needed less studying than you.”

  She pffted, but knew it was the truth. “All you had to do was remember a bunch of ones and zeroes.”

  His face blanked of any emotion, but she caught the lighthearted humor in his eyes. It wasn’t there when he’d walked in, and she tried not to get any satisfaction from that, but it was hard.

  “I,” he said, “can hack into the Pentagon.”

  She snorted before grabbing the ends of the sheet. “My heart can’t stop fluttering. You can hack into the Pentagon. Excuse me. I teach people to love books. Do you know how hard that is? Have you ever tried to read The Scarlet Letter? I have. Over fifty times. Attempting it does in fact make me feel like I’m being pressed slowly between rocks.”

  He rose, stalling Layla’s intended excursion to the balcony. The man was all long, lean muscular limbs. Tanned and bitable. He made her laugh. Oh. Somehow, all those years in college, she’d ignored the obvious hot factor with him. Now that seemed all she could process.

  She shook her head, trying to get her mind out of the gutter. He hadn’t made another attempt to get her into bed. Not that they’d made it into one yet. There were years between college and now, but she knew him. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t feel like he needed to be. He didn’t feel secure or safe to have an affair wherever he lived. He’d rather have sex with a stranger. Maybe now she was out of his system, but was he out of hers?

  No.

  She felt like there should never be an end. Of course she did. The first man to show interest in her while she was on the rebound, and here she was, already wrapping the circumstance in bows. Typical. She gave herself her a mental kick.

  She played it nonchalant and said, “I’ve never been to New Orleans. You?”

  He picked up an armless chair from in front of the cherry wood desk and started to drag it toward the French doors. Seeing his plan she jogged to the doors to whip them open. They’d come from California. The southern regions at that. It got cold there, and she’d heard New Orleans could beat its lowest temperatures by several degrees. Standing out in the winter, in the sheet, she could barely feel the chill. Her blood still sang from their earlier tumble.

  She glanced over her shoulder to see him, but he’d disappeared into the bathroom. He’d set the chair down right at the edge of the doors, situating it partly in and out the hotel room. She leaned over the rail and looked out to see if anyone else was outside this late. A few people walked the grounds. In the shadows she could see other couples on their balconies.

  She smelled him before she heard him plop into the chair. Facing him, she saw that his gaze was fixed on her butt. The sheet covered everything but she suspected he di
dn’t need much to get his imagination going. “Have I turned you into an ass man?”

  He hadn’t belted the robe. She could plainly see the answer to her question. He offered her white fluffy looking house shoes. “I think you know. Put these on. I hear the fireworks can last about thirty minutes.”

  “We’re going to freeze to death.” She took the shoes. He’d only brought the one chair. It was a safe assumption that he wanted her to settle on his lap.

  “That’s why you’ll share your sheet, and we’ll do like survivalists do.”

  She sat with her back to him and leaned into his warmth. “What’s that?”

  “Get naked and cuddle.” He peeled the sheet from around her and tucked them into the chair.

  He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. His chest was solid but warm. His cock pressed against her back.

  Be brave? Be wanton? She inhaled, letting go of the trepidation. This was why she was here. Who she was here did matter. It really did, but that shouldn’t stop her. She shifted until his cock arched between her legs. His breathing deepened, but he didn’t speak.

  She didn’t want to compare, but she couldn’t help it. Raphael had never been with her like this. His cheating wasn’t her fault, but she could say with honesty that they had intimacy issues well before she caught him with his pants around his ankles. Maybe that had been the underlying problem. They looked good on paper. They liked the same things, held similar beliefs, but would he have come to this hotel to put a little extra spice in their relationship? Would he have taken that kind of leap, for them to be adventurous and naughty?

  Yes, it was crazy for this to be the place she’d find Chris again.

  She dug around in her emotions and didn’t find any regret or shame for what they’d done and…what she planned to do again with him.

  Tomorrow, what would happen? Layla didn’t know, but she took in the sky. They had time. Morning hadn’t begun to brush away the darkness. She bit into her bottom lip, reaching down between them.

  “Chris,” she said, wrapping her hand around his shaft, “you’ve been quiet.”

  His arms tightened around her. “I’ve been trying to think of a way to touch you again that didn’t come across sleazy.”

  She ran her finger across the slit of his dick and had the pleasure of hearing him groan. He pressed his face against her neck.

  This time, she could be the one weaving the fantasy. “Whenever I think of that night, I always imagine reaching beneath the study table and doing this.”

  Pre-come dampened her index finger. She couldn’t see it but could feel the slippery warmth. She spread the moisture around the tip.

  “Yeah?” His voice was tight and deep.

  She clasped her hand around him and squeezed. “People could see and catch us then, too.”

  “You like that?” His hands ran up her torso.

  She shivered as he cupped her breasts.

  “I missed a few things the first time around,” he said.

  She’d noticed. “I didn’t care.”

  “I do. I don’t want to miss one detail.” His fingertips swirled around the tight buds.

  She squirmed under the caress. “Oh, do tell.”

  His laugh rumbled against her ear. “I’ll show you instead. Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

  Her brain refused to focus, but she explored him between her legs. Thick, wet at the tip but so damn hard. She closed her eyes, finding the vein along the underside and traced it.

  He teased her nipples until they ached and if there was cold she couldn’t feel it. She sat astride his lap and couldn’t help but squeeze her thighs around his. She ached there too. That feeling grew as he pinched her lightly.

  There was no reason to wait, not when she was this wet, this needy for another round. Rising, she guided his cock to her entrance. He stilled, his groan filling her ear and then he nipped at the lobe.

  She arched her hips and lowered onto him. Her arousal eased his way. Goodness. He was so stiff. The rest of the world dimmed except for where they connected, where his skin touched hers, and his heavy breath caressed her ear.

  She didn’t care she hadn’t tasted him, salty and tangy, in her mouth yet. She didn’t know how his tongue felt against her clit. They’d get to that, but now he surrounded her, pierced her deep. She rolled her hips to feel him glide in and out. Right now, this mattered. The morning would come, but that was eons away.

  His hands gripped her hips and he lowered into the seat, the sheet tangling in their limbs. The air was an afterthought as he thrust into her. A crack filled the night and lights shattered against the star lit sky. She moaned, closed her eyes. Grasping his forearms she continued the lazy roll of her hips. The ache turned unbearable and she reached down again, seeking to ease her clit.

  “Yes,” he murmured, slamming her down, forcing her to take all of him. “Come.”

  How could she deny him when her stomach felt tight, her sex gripping him, seating him deeper? She couldn’t see him, wished like hell she could, but his breathing felt as fervored as hers. His strokes were just as mindless. Harder, faster he drove them both to the edge. She laid her palm flat against her mound, shuddering. Were people watching them? Could they see? Her sex spasmed. Damn that turned her on and slammed her faster to the edge.

  “Chris,” she cried.

  His teeth grazed her shoulder.

  She bucked, tightening around him again. “Chris,” she said, but it sounded like a whimper.

  Flashes of crimson flickered across her closed lids. The fireworks. Apt. A moan spilled into her wry chuckle. Blood roared in her ears and she let the orgasm washed over her.

  He let out a strangled shout, his pumps turning frantic until they slowed and then stopped. He cursed, dragging her closer to his chest.

  If he hadn’t done that she might have melted out of his embrace onto the balcony. Minutes passed. She wasn’t sure if they were only catching their breath or watching the tail end of the fireworks, but they stayed like that, quiet. Doubts, questions wanted to take hold, but that had always been her problem. She was always looking ahead instead of enjoying right now.

  He pressed his lips against her temple. “You must be freezing. Come on.” Without another word, he bundled her into his arms, lifting her out of the chair.

  She pressed her face into his chest, closing her eyes. Tomorrow. She’d deal with everything tomorrow. They still had the rest of the night with each other.

  CAN’T LEAVE

  They’d promised the morning would be the end, but mid-afternoon there she was, still in the hotel room. She watched folks come and go on the winding drive through the bowing oaks.

  They’d ordered room service and hadn’t left the room as though outside was reality and they just weren’t ready for it. Her hair was still wet from the shower they’d taken together. Neither of them made any movements to leave, nor did they speak a word about their goodbye.

  It was driving her insane.

  She ran a hand through her hair and faced him. He’d sprawled on the white and gold Victorian couch, content in watching her. They could dance around the truth longer, but she’d never learned how to be patient. Might be part of her problem. She liked to know where a road was taking her. Coming here was the first time she let herself go blindly into something. So far, she didn’t regret that choice.

  What did she want to happen? Something sappy.

  “Why haven’t you left?” she asked.

  He straightened. “You haven’t.”

  She blinked, shocked at his simple answer. “You’re still here because of me?”

  He looked at her as though she shouldn’t be surprised by his answer. “From the moment I walked into the hotel room—you’re the reason why I haven’t left.” He stood, striding forward. “You expected a different answer?”

  She blinked again. Okay. Raphael wasn’t the best example when it came to having open and honest conversations, but this was new. And welcomed. “It’s just…”
>
  He smiled and it lit in his hazel eyes. “When you leave, so will I. I’m not looking for this to end anytime soon. So I might have to dig into my savings for the rest of the week here at the hotel. Hell, the month if that’s necessary. We’ll spend that time catching up in and out of bed. But I’m not leaving until you do.”

  Okay. Maybe a small part of her believed he was there to get her naked as often as possible. “Why?”

  He stopped a foot in front of her, frowning down at her. “Because I’ve learned not to take anyone for granted. Nothing is a coincidence. I was ready to move on. Then I see my old friend, someone who I’ve thought about more than a handful of times throughout the years. I’m not leaving until you do.”

  His gaze had turned intense and made her heart pound. “And when I leave?”

  “I’m going to talk my way into leaving with you.” He cupped her face with both his hands. “I want to see where this goes.”

  “Oh.” She grasped his hands, her own hands trembling. “I hadn’t wanted to hope.”

  He grinned. “No need to hope. Know I want to be wherever you are. Take me as a widow or your old friend, but take me either way.”

  Never would she have imagined this would happen, but she damn sure wasn’t going to complain or question it. This was better than any fantasy. She grinned back at him. “So, what you’re saying is—”

  “Let this be the answer,” he said and kissed her.

  Yes. She threw her arms around his shoulders and kissed him back. No other words were needed.

  OTHER DEN OF SIN TITLES

  Ménage À Troys, Den of Sin

  Several times per year, New Orleans’s Hotel Beaudelaire invites a select few guests to make their sexual fantasies come true.Eve and Brent Troy have been married three months and have yet to consummate their union. Faced with losing her claim to her family property, busy surgeon Eve had to marry before her thirtieth birthday. Brent was single and convenient, and more importantly, he said yes.