Hidden Heat: Hauberk Protection, Book 4

by Leah Braemel

  “I was in college. This guy I was dating and I were fooling around in his dorm room. His roommate walked in on us. One thing led to another. It was sort of fun at first, but it was over pretty quick. As I said, they didn’t bother about making sure I got off at all. They were more worried about satisfying their own needs. Now, about my demands.” She outlined a shopping list of her fantasies. Everything she could think of, from nipple clamps to floggers to public sex.

  Once she’d finished her recitation, he barked an incredulous laugh. “Who are you?”

  “I’m me. The same person I was yesterday. Now you know more about me. Does that disappoint you?” Please say no.

  “No. Surprises me though.” He stroked her bangs to the side. “At work you’re this clean-cut All-American apple-pie-and-ice-cream Miss America. I never figured you’d be—”

  “Oh, please, give me a friggin’ break. Those pageant divas are anything but virginal. Now are we done with the contractual arrangements?” She walked her fingers down his chest, the muscles firm beneath their tips. “Because I think it’s time for us to strip naked and get horizontal.”

  He caught her hand before it reached his fly. “We aren’t done with the discussion yet.”

  Sheesh. She couldn’t stop herself from rolling her eyes. “What else do you want?”

  “I want you to agree that whatever happens between us in the bedroom stays between us. We keep our relationship out of the office.”

  “I can do that.” At his questioning look, she crinkled her nose in disgust. “Give me a break. Have you ever heard me talk about my sex life at work? Or even who I’m dating? I do try to keep things professional in the office, you know. Well, until this afternoon.”

  A possessive look flickered across his face, one of pride and satisfaction. His palm skimmed up her side, his thumb brushing the edge of her nipple, before slipping behind her neck to cup her head. “We don’t bring what happens outside of the office to work. That means no more blowjobs beneath my desk. No quickies on the desk either.”

  “Damn,” she breathed. “That was my plan for lunch tomorrow.”

  Laughing, he bent down and feathered his lips over her forehead, skimmed along her nose then captured her mouth. The warmth sparked a bolt of lightning through her core. She palmed his behind and squeezed. Damn, his ass was taut beneath her fingers. He pressed his hips against hers. Hot damn, his erection pressed into her belly like a goddamned fence pole.

  “So how about we seal the deal?” She gave his butt one last squeeze and sauntered toward the bedroom without checking to see if he’d follow.

  Questions filled his head—who had she had sex with who would fail to fulfill her? Just what else had she done? And how the hell had she slid in under his radar all these years?

  He followed her into the bedroom, captured her hands and lowered her to the bed. When she tried to touch him, he caught her hands again with a growl. “No.”

  “What? Why can’t I touch you?”

  “Because you make me lose control.” Her tongue slid over her top lip in a sinuous motion. He found himself staring at it, wanting to trace its path, to taste her lips and make them plump the way they’d been after she’d sucked him off earlier. “You said you wanted to be tied up. Have you tried it before?”

  “Of course I have been. It was okay, except that the first guy thought tickling was a form of foreplay. Oh, fair warning? Yes, I’m ticklish but I hate being tickled. You deliberately tickle me, especially while I’m tied up? You’ll never see the inside of my bedroom again.”

  “Noted.” The douche had tied her up only to tickle her? What type of idiots had she dated? No, strike that. He didn’t want to know.

  “Anyway, the next guy I let tie me up thought the only place he needed to pay attention to was my pussy. The—”

  He removed her glasses, placing them carefully on the night table. “As I said, I don’t need a recitation of all your lovers, sunshine. I get it. If you’re tied up, you want foreplay, and to have more than your pretty little pussy.”

  “I want to be licked and touched and kissed. Everywhere.”

  “I guarantee you won’t want for attention.” He unbuttoned her shirt and spread the edges apart to admire her breasts. Unlike some of the women on the D.C. party circuit, her body was luscious, her breasts plump globes that had almost spilled over the lacy cups confining them.

  “Oh, and you have to use a condom. Non-negotiable.”

  “Of course. What do you take me for? A fool?” His tone softened. He nipped and sampled the length of her neck and over the top of one breast. He kissed his way over the plump mound, tasting and teasing, not just her nipples, but the tops, the sides, the sensitive spot beneath. Only once she was panting and writhing beneath him did he position himself between her thighs.

  He nuzzled her belly and tugged the tiny charm at her belly button with his teeth. “Did I tell you this surprised the hell out of me the other night?”

  “Jazz and I got them done a couple months ago.”

  After stripping those ridiculously adorable fuzzy pajama bottoms from her, he caressed the thin strip of hair covering her mound. She was one of the few natural blondes he’d been with. It reflected her whole personality, he realized. Natural. Soft. With exactly the right amount of kink to be interesting.

  He placed his hands on her thighs and she opened them with no hesitation. Did she realize how naturally sensual she was? Because there was no way her response was an act. Her folds glistened with cream, her labia plump and cinnamon colored to match her nipples. And her freckles.

  His mouth watered as the scent of her arousal assaulted his senses. While some women would have questioned why he was taking so long, Sandy waited, letting him take the lead. Not in submission, but with patience. He wondered how many men understood and appreciated the difference. He rarely needed submission, and there would come a time he’d demand it, but for now, her patience pleased him.

  Parting her folds with his thumbs, he swiped his tongue up one side of her clit and down the other. Her essence burst sweet on his tongue, transporting him back to when he’d first allowed himself to taste her.

  Her feet wrapped around his back, holding him in place. The movement angled her hips so he had better access to her core. He used the flat of his tongue to tantalize, to tease, then when she thought he’d established a pattern, he’d change the tempo and strength of his attentions.

  He breached her entrance with his thumb and stroked the lower wall until her hips lifted off the mattress. He pressed harder and discovered she wasn’t a screamer, but a moaner. A tiny grunt escaped her as her entire body tightened and her passage clenched around his fingers. Not an orgasm, but close. Damn, she was responsive.

  Replacing his thumb with two fingers, he stroked the front of her passage. Cream coated his fingers with each thrust, let his thumb slip over her clit with little resistance. Her moans grew louder, faster; her skin glistened as he forced her to the brink of orgasm then backed off.

  “Troy, please. I need it hard and fast.”

  He tilted his head as he considered her demand. “Do you use vibrators?”

  She gave a quick nod, a blush creeping into her cheeks.

  “You’re not to use them when I’m not around.” At her questioning look he narrowed his eyes. “You have to trust me to please you. Now close your eyes and just let yourself feel what I’m doing.”

  He could have laughed when she swore at him under her breath. “Trust me, sunshine. I’ll make sure you’re satisfied by the time I’m done.”

  Over and over he drove her to the brink then backed off before he finally let her take that leap over the edge.

  If he’d thought her sensual before, watching her recover from her orgasm was a work of pure art. Her lids heavy, she lifted them, entrancing him with the promise of more. Not just more sex but anything he wanted. Her voice was husky when she regained her breath.

  “Come up here and let me return the favor.”

  He
debated telling her no, that he had more planned to please her, but the idea of being buried in her hot talented mouth was too enticing to deny. Without wasting any time, he ditched his clothes, then positioned himself by her head and watched, entranced, as her lips curled and her tongue peeked out to lap at his cock. His balls immediately drew tight when the moist heat of her mouth enveloped the sensitive head. There was nothing more beautiful than watching his shaft glide over her open lips.

  She sucked him down until her nose hit his groin, her tongue lapping and swirling about his length in a tantalizing massage that hit all the right spots. Yeah, so much for the Madonna image he held. She was an angel trained by the devil himself.

  The moment he felt that tingling sensation at the base of his spine, he pulled from her mouth.

  She licked her lips, made plump from sucking him off the way he loved. “What’s wrong?”

  “I want to finish in your pussy, not your mouth.”

  “Oh, well, all right then.” Damn it, how could such a sinfully talented mouth curve into such an angelic smile?

  He cursed to himself as he fumbled through the heap where he’d abandoned his clothes to find the condom he’d stuck in his wallet only to have Sandy toss one to him. He handed it back to her. “You put it on me.”

  Moments later he nearly regretted the request. Between the sensual look on her face—the way her lips caught the tip of her tongue as she concentrated on unrolling the latex, and the erotic touch of her fingers along his length she nearly had him coming right there in her hand. By the time she finished sheathing him, his breath was rough in his throat, and his balls drawn tight to his body, aching with his need to relieve the pressure building deep inside.

  Unable to wait any longer, he positioned himself over her. Her passage was so fucking wet there was no resistance at all to his entrance. Buried deep within, he stilled in an attempt to regain control over his body. It wasn’t her heat enveloping him that nearly had him shooting off like a schoolboy, it was the soft look in her heavy-lidded eyes. The promise of softness, of acceptance. Of love.

  Once his arms stopped shaking, he pulled back in a long slow retreat, her passage clamping around him to hold him in. It took all his strength to thrust back in just as slowly, drawing out the experience of being wrapped in her heat, instead of pumping hard and fast the way she’d demanded earlier.

  Her hands trailed over his back, settling over his behind and drawing him closer. She tightened her grip, her nails digging into his skin. Her touch both soothed and incited him.

  Her eyes fluttered closed as she whispered to him, murmuring soft encouragement, telling him what she liked. Her breath glided over his skin like a kiss. Fuck, if she kept that up, he wouldn’t last another three thrusts.

  He pulled out and flipped her over, lifting her hips so her ass was high in the air then sank into her until he was buried to his balls. She pressed back, driving him deeper than he’d thought possible. He held her hips and withdrew slowly, then thrust back in fast and hard. She wiggled when he tried to withdraw a second time. Using the flat of his hand he slapped her behind, leaving a handprint behind. Shit. He’d forgotten who he was with. This was Sandy, not some woman from the Rouge who got off on being manhandled.

  “God, yes,” she breathed. “Do it again.”

  Then again, maybe she was. He obliged her, striking the other smooth globe with the flat of his hand.

  “Again.”

  Her body shuddered around him with each slap until both sides were red with handprints and her honey coated his balls. She ground back against him, her passage so hot and tight around his cock he couldn’t hold back anymore.

  In a frenzy, he grasped her hips and rammed into her over and over again, all thoughts of being gentle driven from his thoughts. Her orgasm triggered his own. His arms shaking once more, he slumped beside her then just about had a heart attack when something heavy landed on his legs.

  “Get down, Xander.” Sandy waved her arm at the purring furball. Taking it as an invitation, Xander only purred louder and wedged his fat body between them.

  “Sorry about him.” Sandy rolled from the bed and walked over to deposit the cat in the hallway. “Go on, you silly cat, go sleep on your own bed.”

  The moment she closed the door, the cat meowed plaintively and began scratching to be let back in. “He’s Jazz’s cat but you’d think he owns the place.”

  “He’s…cute.” If you could call a twenty-pound furball with claws and fangs cute.

  “Not a cat lover, huh?” She sat back on the bed and crawled over to him, pressing her backside against him.

  “Don’t know. I’ve never had a pet. Always figured I’d be more of a dog lover though. Some of the police dogs are freaking clever.” Damn it, he’d lost control after all. He smoothed a hand over her behind, grimacing at the half-dozen handprints he’d left. She made a soft sound, almost like the cat had purred earlier, and snuggled closer.

  Down the hall, a key jangled in the lock and the front door opened, making Troy stiffen. A woman’s giggle, followed by a man’s chuckle floated down the hall.

  “Relax. It’s my roommate and her boyfriend,” Sandy murmured without opening her eyes.

  Moments later, the headboard started banging against the adjoining wall, accompanied by moans, both male and female. The thought that the roommate might listen to him making love to Sandy may add to Sandy’s need for excitement, he supposed, but being watched wasn’t one of his kinks. It wasn’t as if he could take Sandy to his place. He had a roommate too. Besides, Sandy wouldn’t like his place. It was nothing like this.

  A stuffed toy stared at him from the chair in the corner, a teddy so well-loved its ears were threadbare and one eye was perilously close to falling off. Dozens of photographs lined the full length of her dresser like haphazard soldiers. Almost all were of the Hallquist family through the years, a four- or five-year-old Sandy playing with a golden retriever, a teenage Sandy in a cheerleader’s outfit, one of a couple who could only be her parents surrounded by three boys, Sandy standing in front of a white frame house, a couple of boys with the same blonde hair wearing football uniforms, several of Sandy through the ages, and a college graduation photo. He smiled at the requisite prom picture of teenage Sandy in a formal gown, an uncomfortable boy with a bad case of acne in a tux beside her.

  His smile faded. Had her date been Sandy’s first love? Had he been her first lover? If he had, Troy hoped he’d been a gentle and careful lover, especially for her first time. That he’d taken the time to make sure she was ready, and made her feel beautiful.

  I’m not looking to settle down. I want excitement. Women like Sandy were raised to seek security, to provide comfort and stability. To have a solid family like the one in the portrait hanging beside the dresser mirror. Yet she’d had a ménage. Obviously he’d pegged her completely wrong.

  In her sleep, Sandy shivered. Troy reached down and pulled up the quilt he’d shoved out of the way in his hurry to take her. To fuck her. Upon closer inspection he realized the patchwork quilt had been hand sewn. Probably by her mother or maybe a grandmother.

  She had a family who cared about her. Connections. A normal life. Everything he’d lost with the death of his parents.

  His phone dinged from wherever he’d dumped his pants on the floor. He eased from her side and felt around until his fingers found his cell. A message from his second-in-command in Africa about a developing situation that meant he’d have to go into the office and arrange a conference call. Fucking perfect.

  Guess this was as good a time as any for Sandy to get used to the fact he’d not be there most of the time. He stroked the hair off her forehead, pressing a kiss to the spot he’d bared. With a sense of regret he’d not felt in a long time, he dressed by feel, using the label at the back of his undershirt’s collar to tell him it was on the right way, the buttons on his vest that it wasn’t inside out. Not that it would matter—no one he’d run into between here and his SUV was worth worrying about. But
he probably should do a quick wardrobe check before he headed back into the office.

  He paused at her door, examining the lock and security of her unit. Security, he grunted. There was none. No alarm system in her apartment for starters. None in the building either. He’d gained access to the building because some asshole leaving had tried to be helpful by holding the door open for him. The deadbolt on her door was laughable. Someone with the right length of two by four could bend the frame and pop the bolt right out of the hole and be into her apartment, no muss, no fuss. There weren’t even video cameras in the hallways. Not to mention her apartment was right beside a stairwell, making her target central.

  Jazz rolled onto her stomach. It had been a while since her body ached in all the right places the way it did at the moment. She reached out on her left side, expecting to find Mitch’s warm body only to find his spot empty. She fumbled for the lamp on her bedside table. Hadn’t that been on before? Huh. He must have turned it off.

  “Mitch?” She squinted toward the bathroom. Nope, the light wasn’t on. Not that he might not be taking a whiz in the dark, she’d done it after all, but…

  Ah, shit, don’t tell her he’d crept out without saying good-bye.

  She padded out of the bedroom, grabbing her robe from the hook on the back of her bedroom door. “Mitch?”

  Mitch sat on her couch, his laptop open, frowning at the screen. “Be right with you, Jazz baby.”

  “Whatcha doin’? Because if you’re watching porn, I gotta tell you, I prefer to be the star in any sex scenes that get you off.” She curled up on the couch beside him, only catching a glimpse of the control panel screen.

  “I couldn’t sleep and didn’t want to disturb you. So I figured I’d catch up on some work while I had the time, but I can’t get onto the net. Your router’s got a password.”

  “Oh, the password is SandyandJazzrule—all one word—304.”

  “Thanks.” He opened the network connections box and typed in the password, then checked his email. When she snuggled closer, he lowered the lid until it was only open an inch and set it on the coffee table.