by Kim Karr
Flesh on flesh.
Frantic.
Grasping.
My moans couldn’t be contained. It felt way too good.
“Do you like that?” he asked.
“Yes. Don’t stop,” I pleaded and then, out of nowhere, trembling spasms of pleasure started to sweep over me. My fingers clutched his shoulders as the tremors kept coming.
Over and over, like electric shock waves that felt way too good for any one person to be able to enjoy.
Jake groaned at the slight gouge of my nails in his flesh.
I couldn’t help myself.
The sound only tipped me farther over the edge. My orgasm continued, and my entire body began to shake.
He drove himself deeper, moved faster, and my pussy responded by clenching around his cock.
“Oh, God, Jake. Don’t stop.” The sweet pleasure rippled through me again as he pounded harder, faster, harder, faster.
“Fuck!” he cried in a shout that matched my own cry, and I knew then that he, too, was coming. He murmured my name, over and over, a little louder each time.
“Juliette.”
“Juliette.”
“Juliette.”
Hearing my name, my full name, made me feel like my blood was singing.
Once we were both spent and gasping, he shifted his weight off me. After tossing the condom in the wastebasket, he rolled onto his side.
I turned to face him, and we stared at each other for at least five minutes.
My hand caressed his cheek. “Talk to me,” I said. “What are you thinking?”
He kissed my fingers, each of them, and held my hand tightly. “I’m thinking about how I could fuck you a million times, and it wouldn’t be enough.”
I wasn’t sure that could possibly be true, but bedroom talk was bedroom talk for a reason.
He slid his lips lower and murmured, “I want you to sleep here tonight.”
“Here?” I breathed, “like in your room with your grandmother in the house?”
When he looked up at me, with the sun shining through the windows, he looked so much younger and more carefree than he had when I first met him. “Yes, here, in my room.”
“Jake,” I tried to protest.
His hand reached between my thighs. “I want to slide in next to you when I get home.”
I arched.
He circled my clit. “I want to feel how wet you are for me all the time.”
I moaned.
His finger dipped inside me. “I want to taste you.”
I sighed.
He parted my swollen, slick folds with his thumbs. “I want to be inside you.”
I rose onto my elbows. “I’m pretty sure you’ll be inside me again in a matter of minutes.”
He found no humor in my words. “It’s not enough. I already told you, I can’t get enough of you.”
The air whooshed from my lungs. This was coming from the man who wanted to make sure I had no expectations. But I said nothing about that. There was no way I was going to ruin the moment. If this was what no expectations felt like, I’d gladly take it and more. “Okay,” I acquiesced. “I’ll spend the night, but I have to go to work tomorrow.”
“Good,” he murmured. “I’m off for the next three days, so I can join you.”
“You want to come to work with me?”
He nodded and removed his hands from their pleasuring of me to hop out of bed and grab for another condom. “You’ve been asking for my attention.”
I stared at the way his cock was jutting straight out and tried to still my racing heart. “Yes, I have been, for the wedding,” I clarified.
He rolled the condom on and then his gaze went molten. Need sizzled over my skin when he indicated I should roll over. His instruction would have been laughable if I weren’t so caught up in the haze of desire. “I know,” he said silkily. “You want my opinion on the flowers, the food, the wine, and the music, right?”
On my belly, I looked over my shoulder. “And the napkins and favors and cake and photographs.” I had to add those.
He pulled me close to the edge of the mattress. “Yes, those things as well.”
Instinctively, I rose on my knees and planted my palms forward. “Good,’ I quipped.
The blunt head of his cock nudged against my opening. I couldn’t believe it. I’d just had him, and still, I was crawling with need.
He slammed into me. “And I plan to give it to you.”
Oh God . . . he sank deep inside me, his cock fitting in my cunt in the most perfect way.
His thrusts were quick.
They felt so good.
His kisses rough.
They felt so good.
His grip tight.
It felt so good.
Moving together, we fucked hard and fast. And all the while, incredible bursts of pleasure crested through me, making my entire body shake.
My orgasm struck fast and shut my mind down. Tiny explosions behind my eyelids were all I could see, and in that moment there was nothing else that mattered but he and I and the way our bodies responded to each other.
Jake started to come in the midst of my orgasm. I could feel his body still and felt that one last deep penetration before he called out my name.
My name.
I loved how it sounded groaned in ecstasy.
It was the perfect ending to an incredible union.
With my clit pulsing around his cock, I wanted to stay like that forever. It was strange, but at the moment, I didn’t care about what could never be, or what might be.
This feeling was what I had been searching for.
“And oh, how I plan to give it to you,” he repeated.
Oh. My. God.
He wasn’t talking about directing his attention to the wedding details. He was talking about this. Sex. Fucking. Raw. Dirty. Animalistic fucking.
The promise slid over me like silk, warm and inviting, and so sinfully sexy.
Bring. It. On.
Cross That Bridge When You Come To It
JULES
THE HALLWAY WAS LONGER THAN a football field, and my sandals clacked down every foot of it.
I swear the sound was so loud I would have woken the house if anyone was upstairs, and if it weren’t six in the evening.
As I proceeded down the back staircase, I could feel my muscles twitch and my heart pound.
Calm down.
Jake had to leave for work and left me to shower upstairs. And let’s just say seeing Dr. Kiss in scrubs and a lab coat was hot. Like really, really hot. I had to practically fan myself.
At least after he kissed me senseless, he told me how to get downstairs without using the formal staircase. Thank goodness. The thought of his grandmother seeing me coming down the stairs, and then me having to explain to her that I was up there because I was banging her grandson’s brains out had me wanting to flee out the front door.
When I passed Roger in the kitchen, he was standing at the counter with seven sterling silver bowls in front of him.
He glanced up.
I hoped he hadn’t heard Jake and me upstairs.
We had both been quite loud.
I smiled at Roger, who was more than just a butler, and gave him a small wave. In response, he gave me a discreet nod. “Good evening, madame.”
My cheeks flushed. “Please, call me . . .” I hesitated. “Juliette.”
“Very well, Miss Juliette.”
I smiled some more. “It’s just Juliette.”
Filling the last of the bowls, he bowed. “As you wish, Juliette.”
I curtsied. Yes, curtsied. “Thank you, Roger.”
And believe it or not, that made the corners of his mouth quirk up, just a little, but still.
Yah!
Okay, it was on to meet the woman of the house.
Adjusting my posture as I walked, I thought I was all calm, cool, and collected. However, by the time I reached the parlor, a tiny bead of sweat had formed at the base of my neck, and my heart w
as pounding even faster. That’s when I knew there was a very good chance I might end up in full-on panic mode.
Wishing my anxiety away, I drew in a deep breath as I stared at the wooden panels.
One breath.
Two.
Three and four.
Exhaling the air I’d taken in, I shook off any residual anxiety and raised my fist. Mrs. Beatrice Beau Crawford Alexander had summoned me to the parlor to discuss her granddaughter’s wedding. This was nothing out of the ordinary.
I’d met with clients at their homes all the time.
It should have been business as usual.
Still, it felt like anything but normal.
From what I’d already known and the research I’d recently done, Beatrice Beau Crawford Alexander didn’t like to speak to outsiders. Known for being ruthless, she’d fired more people than she’d hired, however that could be.
According to the old newspaper clippings, she was a homebody who’d never really let the world know who she was.
Unless you took the time to look at the charities she’d funded, the clubs she belonged to, and the places she’d gone. She’d funded a number of local charities, especially those for underprivileged kids and traveled to third-world countries up until five years ago when she was first diagnosed with cancer.
Ironically, the media outlets she didn’t own called her a bitch. Perhaps it was the competition that was the bitch. Fingers crossed that was the case.
I knocked lightly and waited. No one answered. I knocked again. This time a little louder.
God, my heart was pounding.
What if I looked at her the wrong way?
What if she hated me?
Fired me on the spot and ordered me out?
Oh, God.
Just as I was about to knock one more time, the front door swung open and a wave of heat blasted through the foyer followed by a trotting noise. I glanced over my shoulder expecting to see Roger with the dogs. However, it was not Roger.
It was her!
A cold sweat coated my forehead, and as I turned, I discretely wiped it away. Southern women never sweat, they glistened, and I couldn’t have her seeing me as the Yankee I was.
This was Beatrice Beau Crawford Alexander.
The Beatrice Beau Crawford Alexander.
The media mogul.
And Jake’s grandmother.
His beloved grandmother.
A famously private millionaire who fought to run her family business in a time when females didn’t often take the helm of large enterprises, and then went on to become the most successful female CEO in Atlanta.
Mrs. Alexander was a woman to admire.
The older woman was in a wheel chair and being pushed inside by a man in black scrubs. Five dogs flanked either side of her, with Mr. Darcy in front and Daisy on her lap.
She was small, petite, and had big blue eyes. It was evident her genes were strong because Rory looked just like her. Her red headscarf was silk, and she was wearing a cream kimono with red cherry blossoms printed on it. Her slippers gold and the pearls around her neck were beautiful. When she smiled brightly at me, she said, “Juliette, I’m so glad we could finally meet.”
There was a real possibility my knees were actually knocking together, and it took me more than a second to find my voice. “Mrs. Alexander, it’s a pleasure.”
The man I assumed to be Matthew had stopped to unleash the dogs, and as I rushed over toward her so that I could greet her with a handshake, I was literally stopped in my tracks.
Mr. Darcy insisted on his greeting first and got right up on me. Losing my balance, I was knocked backward and landed on the third step of the grand staircase.
“Mr. Darcy!” Mrs. Alexander scolded. “Leave Juliette alone.”
“I got him,” Matthew called, rushing toward me.
“Mr. Darcy,” I cooed, letting my bag fall to the ground in a clamor to free my hands. “I think you want my attention.”
“Yes, well, he is an attention whore,” Mrs. Alexander said as she laughed.
Giggling, I waved Matthew away, who was on Mr. Darcy’s heels to retrieve him. “It’s okay,” I said.
“Matthew, please help her out. Mr. Darcy has to learn some manners,” said Mrs. Alexander.
Now seated, I was at the same height as Mr. Darcy, and I allowed him to say hello to me with a lick before I took his face in my hands. “Well, hello there, I’m happy to see you, too.”
As Matthew pulled the giant dog off me, Daisy barked, and the other dogs joined in. It was rather chaotic, but I could see how much Mrs. Alexander loved her dogs as she attempted to appease each of them.
Roger must have heard the commotion because he was on it. Standing in the dining room doorway with a bowl in his hand, he clanked a spoon against the silver and called, “Dinner time, my loves.”
In an instant, all the dogs went charging toward him. I couldn’t believe it. I also couldn’t believe the manner in which the proper English man addressed them. My heart swelled a little. It showed how much he cared for them.
Turning my head, I found Matthew wheeling Mrs. Alexander toward me. “Are you alright my dear?”
“Yes.” I grinned, getting to my feet and fixing my dress. “I’m fine.”
Her eyes twinkled. “My babies have taken to you just as my grandson has, and I can see why. You’re simply a delight.”
With no time to process her comment, I extended my hand. “Mrs. Alexander,” I said, “it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Wait, I already said that!
“Nonsense,” she opened her arms and reached for me. “Call me Mimi, and I insist on a hug.”
As I embraced her, I couldn’t believe how frail she was. “Mrs. Alexander—Mimi,” I corrected, and then pulled back.
She looked up at Matthew. “This is Juliette. Isn’t she beautiful?”
With a flush, he extended his hand and I took it. “Nice to meet you.”
I smiled at him. “Nice to meet you, too.”
Neither of us said anything about the AX and the fact that Jake had to borrow his truck last week and then never got home in time to return it because he was in bed with me. I’m pretty sure Matthew didn’t care though since he got to take the Jag in exchange.
Taking hold of my hand, Mimi gestured toward the dining room. “Come, my dear. Eat dinner with me, and we’ll talk all about the wedding and Jake.”
Dinner wasn’t the plan, but how could I say no?
Besides, I had told Jake I’d spend the night, and now all I had to do was go home and pack a bag. I didn’t have to worry about cooking, which I really hated doing.
Speaking of eating, back in the same dining room I had taken breakfast in almost two weeks ago, things felt so much different.
Lighter.
All that panic I’d felt then for not, and all the panic I’d felt just minutes ago was for nothing as well.
I had to learn to calm down.
This woman, who had been dubbed an eccentric recluse in everything I’d read, was nothing like she’d been described. Maybe like Jake, she was all bark and no bite. Or perhaps there was never even a bark. Just rumors she never bothered to set straight.
And that takes a strong woman.
I hoped I was maybe just a little like her.
The chair at the head of the table had been removed so Mimi’s wheelchair could fit in its place, and I sat to the right of her. Matthew left us alone.
The table was set exquisitely, and it was apparent she was expecting me for dinner, something Jake had obviously decided not to mention. This oddly made me smile. He knew me already. Knew I would be even more nervous at the prospect of dining with his grandmother, not just meeting with her.
Still, he was going to get an earful from me.
Mimi lifted the bottle of wine from the table, and my eyes darted to it. The bottle of Cupcake Wine was Pinot Grigio.
Did Jake buy stock in the company or what?
Bottles were popping up everywhere.
“So.” Mimi poured wine into the gorgeous crystal glass in front of me. “Tell me about yourself.”
A delicate pattern of roses lined the rim, and I found myself staring at it.
“It was my grandmother’s. She had two of them sent all the way from France. They were handmade for her.”
I looked up. “They are exquisite,” I told her holding the glass up to the light.
She smiled at me. “Jake told me you were curious about everything around you. Curiosity is a very good trait to have.”
Oh, if only she knew, she wouldn’t say that. I snorted. “What else did he tell you? Some good things, I hope.”
She shook her head, eyes bright with affection. “All good, my dear. He really adores you.”
Practically choking on my wine, I coughed a bit and then managed to say, “Adores might be pushing it a bit far.”
“Well, you did throw cake in his face,” she smirked.
I was horrified. “He told you about that?”
The glass in front of her was filled with water, and she took a sip from it. “He tells me everything. Although he never used the word adore, I can tell he is falling for you, and it’s not just because the sex is great.”
This time I did spit my wine out all over the place setting in front of me. “He told you we have great sex?”
She chuckled. “No, there are some things Jake refuses to discuss with me. Even though he’s my grandson, he’s still a man though, and I can see it written all over him.”
I covered my face with my hands, knowing my blush must have gone from pink to crimson red in that instant.
“It’s okay, Juliette, you don’t have to be embarrassed. Good sex can sometimes lead to even better things, but great sex can lead to that once in a lifetime love that not everyone gets to experience.”
Using my napkin to wipe the wine away, I reflected upon what she said, and how she’d said it. “My parents had that,” I commented. “Was your husband a once in a lifetime love?”
I knew very little about the man she’d married. There wasn’t much printed about him other than he had been a famous Italian racecar driver and that they had divorced.
She waved her hand through the air. “That bastard. Oh no. Lorenzo was a good for nothing husband who couldn’t keep it in his pants. The day he left me was one of the happiest days of my life. But before him, I had fallen for someone that my father absolutely forbid me to marry and then he arranged for me to marry Lorenzo to be certain I didn’t disobey his wishes.”