He was going to hell for how badly he wanted his brother’s wife. But he wasn’t about to let her go.
Sliding a hand down Dani’s throat, to her breast, Mac stroked her nipple, then pinched just as Jessica had.
Oh God. Dani flexed on the inside, squeezing Spryo’s cock. His hips jerked, drove deep. It was so sweet, Mac’s tongue in her mouth, his lips taking her, his fingers shooting bolts of lightning straight from her nipple to her clit, and a hard cock deep inside her.
She’d dreamed of this. She’d just never thought the man would be Mac. More, more, more, she chanted in her mind. She couldn’t let go of that kiss, his mouth, his sugary taste as sweet as the baklava. His fingers brushed the underside of her breast, her abdomen, played with her belly button, then finally tunneled into her sex, finding that hot, hard, needy button. Her breath puffed. Oh God, so good. Mac. He couldn’t know how good. She rode his touch as much as she rode Spryo’s cock. She was close, so close, driven even higher by Jessica’s rising voice as she neared her own climax. Then Mac tore his lips from hers, pushing her back slightly in the saddle, and put his mouth to her clit, sucking, licking, circling. The sensations were so intense, colors burst before her eyes. She keened, threading her fingers through his hair, holding his head to her, riding his tongue. Spryo’s cock pulsed and throbbed, and he pushed deep as much as she drove down on him, but when orgasm broke free inside her, it was not the cock inside her, but Mac’s sweet 49
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caress that sent her over the edge.
THEY LEFT THE STAMOSES COLLAPSED IN EACH OTHER’S ARMS, EXHAUSTED, sated, delirious. Dani had lightly kissed both Stamos and Jessica on the lips. Mac had kissed only Jessica. He turned the light out, leaving them in the sweetly scented darkness before closing the door behind them. He hadn’t known sex could be like that when you didn’t even have an orgasm. He hadn’t known he could feel such involvement when he’d never even removed his clothes or touched his cock. Dani’s taste lingered on his lips, her scent all over him, his hands, his hair, his clothes. She’d marked him. Now he needed to mark her.
Instead of hitting the elevator button, he pushed through the door opposite, pulling Dani into the stairwell with him.
“What are you doing?” she whispered. It was late. The fire door clicked shut. They couldn’t get back out without walking all the way to the bottom. She was his captive.
“This,” was all he said as he pushed her up against the wall and took her mouth, feasting on her.
She moaned and opened, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him tight against her. The kiss was deeper, longer, stealing his breath, his soul. He needed her to taste herself on his lips, to remember how he’d made her come. He shoved his knee between her thighs, parted her legs, tugging her dress higher to rub her pussy. Her heat seeped through his slacks, his cock hard against her.
Then she was pushing at him. “Wait, wait—stop.” Breathing hard, nostrils flared as if she could get more air that way. “The night’s over.” She searched his face.
“It’s not fucking over.” He tangled his fingers in her hair, pulled her head back. “I said I wouldn’t sit in the corner and just watch. I had you in there, my mouth on you.” He bent, bit her neck, not hard, just enough to leave a red mark.
“But I never said I’d fuck you in front of them.” He shoved her dress all the way to her waist. “Fucking is just for us.”
He pushed a hand between them and unzipped, the sound echoing in the stairwell. Her eyes wide, lips parted, she stared at his mouth. Christ, he knew she wanted it. She just didn’t want to say how badly. She wanted to make him 50
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take instead of her giving. In that moment, fuck if he cared how it went down.
“I will have you. You are mine tonight.” He pulled his cock out, rubbed his crown over her silk panties. “Say yes.”
She swallowed. Then nodded.
He simply raised a brow.
“Yes,” she whispered, then added, “please.” Almost a whimper, as if she couldn’t help begging.
He reached in his jacket pocket, having grabbed a condom off the table while she was dressing. He hadn’t known exactly when or where, but he knew he’d take her before the night was over. Hell, he hadn’t even made it to the elevator. Keeping her pinned to the wall with his legs, he leaned back to roll on the condom. Tossing aside the wrapper, he shoved his hands beneath her armpits and lifted.
“Wrap your legs around my waist,” he demanded. She was so damn good at following orders, legs at his waist, arms around his shoulders. Her thong and the condom were the only things that lay between them.
“I’m going to fuck you,” he murmured, his mouth only a breath away from her lips. “Tell me you want it.”
“Yes, I want it.”
He pulled aside the thin, silky crotch of her panty. “Say my name. Say,
‘Please fuck me, Mac.’”
“Please fuck me, Mac, fuck me hard.” She gave him what he wanted and three words more.
She was already wet, already stretched, already open and waiting for him. Mac slammed home. She cried out, eyes closed, wrapped him tight in her embrace, and squeezed his cock, drawing him deeper, closer, higher. Nothing had ever felt as good or right as being buried to the hilt in his brother’s wife.
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8
WITH THE DELICIOUS FEEL OF MAC INSIDE HER, COHERENT THOUGHT
wasn’t possible. There was only sensation. So closely on the heels of Spryo, she could feel the tighter, longer fit of Mac inside her. His kiss hot, his taste sweet, his hair caressing her arms as she clung to him, the deep sounds in his throat as he plunged; it was too much, and not enough.
“Oh God, oh God,” she panted against his lips as heat built in her clitoris, along the bump of her G-spot. She needed to come that way. It was so rare for her, yet with each thrust, Mac rode her as no man ever had.
“Fuck me, Mac,” she breathed against his hair, needing to say his name, needing to hear it echo in the stairwell. “Oh God, Mac, please.”
A hand beneath her butt holding her against the wall, with the other, he pinned her chin and took her mouth in a kiss that was as deep and ravishing as his cock inside her. She clamped around him, her body squeezing. His cock pulsed, then he swore against her lips, pumping fast and hard. It was all her body needed, shooting her to the roof. He took her cries into his mouth, the throb of his climax filling her.
For long moments after, she clung to him, her face buried in his hair, his lips against her neck, aftershocks flowing between them, their breath harsh, calming, finally returning to normal.
He pulled out slowly, let her slide down the wall until her shoes hit the concrete. There was a trash can right by the door for the condom. Dani wriggled her panties back into place and straightened her dress as she watched him right his clothing.
His sandy hair was mussed, his cheeks ruddy, pupils wide, his jacket wrinkled. He buckled his belt.
This was what she’d always needed. A man so hot watching her, that the moment they were alone, he had to take her against a wall, couldn’t even wait for home or a bed.
She couldn’t think Kern’s name without a wince, but what Mac gave her had answered a deep craving. His tongue on her as she rode Spryo’s cock had been like nothing else she’d ever had. A delicious prelude to what he’d done to her in the stairwell.
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He put a finger to the corner of her mouth. “I messed up your lipstick.” He leaned in for a quick, sweet kiss.
Her body started to vibrate all over again with the brief touch. “I’ll fix it in the lobby restroom.”
“That was fucking hot,” he said, his eyes dark in the hall lighting.
“Yes,” she agreed. He could never know how incredibly hot it had been for her.
She could never tell him. It hadn’t been part of the deathbed promise he’d made to Kern to take care of her.
He pointed to the door. “Fire door. We can’t get back in.” He glanced at her shoes. “You okay to walk down?”
They were on the twentieth floor. She held on to his arm, as much for balance as a need for connection, and removed the high heels. “Yes, I can walk.”
The concrete was cold against her soles.
He took her hand, leading her, holding her in case she fell. There was a whole lot of metaphor in that.
Would Kern really mind? He’d watched her so many times, gotten off on it. This was just sex, even if it was spectacular and with Mac. She’d actually done more with Spryo. Sucked his cock, fucked him for longer. But she hadn’t gotten this feeling from Spryo. Hadn’t felt it until Mac looked at her, touched her, wanted her. The same emotion had flowed between Spryo and Jessica. Dani had wanted it for herself, with Mac.
She held tight to his hand as if she’d tumble headlong down the stairs without him.
Kern couldn’t mind because Kern was dead. She was on her own and doing the best she could.
“You okay?” Mac asked as they hit the tenth floor.
“I’m fine.”
“You’re quiet.”
“Just tired.”
He wrapped an arm around her, hugged her close a moment. “I’ll have you home in no time.” Then he took her hand once more, continuing on. His consideration felt so . . . nice. So comfortable. She could start to need it. The main-level door let them out into the lobby, the ladies’ room just by the elevators.
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She slipped on her shoes, then he held her fingers to his mouth, gazed at her over them, a smile playing on his lips. “Powder your nose. I’ll be here waiting.”
Again, it felt like a metaphor for something more. It might actually be her own wishful thinking. Which was a very scary thought. If she’d thought she’d lost her independence to Kern, how would it be with Mac? The man who didn’t take no for answer, who’d dictated to the Stamoses exactly how the evening would go. Come to think of it, Mac had even dictated to Isabel. No. What they’d done was good. Great. But it was just sex. With that thought, she pulled the ladies’ room door closed behind her. The night was over; now he was just her chauffeur.
DESPITE THE LATE HOUR, THE LOBBY BORDERED ON BEDLAM. CONVERSATION and laughter spilled from the bar filled with out-of-town conventioneers. Loud groups queued for taxis and waited outside the hotel restaurant.
The moment the restroom door closed, Mac turned to the wall and pulled the envelope from his jacket pocket. He did not count how much money Spryo had given her; he simply pulled a wad from his wallet and added that to it. When he’d arranged the date, Isabel had said they didn’t talk money, per se, though there was a threshold expectation she communicated to the client. If a courtesan felt underappreciated after the fact—he’d almost laughed when she’d used that euphemism—the client was not matched with her again. Consistent underappreciation and the client was dropped. In other words, a courtesan got stiffed, so to speak, only once. But they also didn’t have an up-front certainty. Dani would never know he’d added to the stack. She wouldn’t take his money. This way, she wouldn’t know it came from him. The debts would be paid down faster. No harm done. He closed his eyes a moment. God, he could see why men paid for her. His body still thrummed. Her scent still enveloped him. He wasn’t done. He needed more. She was not the kind of woman you did once and walked away from. The kicker was the connection, the hours they’d spent together, the things they’d helped each other through. The sex didn’t simply burn hotter, it ran deeper, curling around his mind, his body, his heart. For God’s sake, he could still feel the heat of her hand on his arm as she’d balanced herself to put her shoes back on.
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On the stairs, he’d lost himself inside her, and that had never happened before. Sure, it was the heat of the moment, the hot fucking with Stamos and his wife, need driving him. But it was also Dani. A woman he’d known for eight years and never allowed himself to see.
She left the ladies’ room with every hair in place, every smudge erased. Heads turned as she sashayed to his side. Beautiful, sexy, confident, she could hold the world in her palm.
He took her hand. They’d parked in a garage a block away. In the car, she snapped in her seat belt, then curled into her seat to watch him drive. The Saturday-night city traffic was stop and go. He tightened his grip on the wheel so he wouldn’t be tempted to take her hand. Fiddling with the radio, she found a news talk station. He felt tongue-tied, another new experience. She chattered and scoffed at the radio host, a liberal. Dani was decidedly conservative, at least on the political spectrum.
By the time he pulled into her driveway, his head ached from thinking instead of doing. He shut off the engine, and the car fell into silence. She smiled. “Thanks.”
He’d expected her to jump out and run for the door. “You’re welcome.” Fuck, he wanted to kiss her. He wanted to follow her inside the house like a lovesick puppy and beg her to do him in her bed.
The bed she’d shared with Kern before he got so sick.
“Is Isabel going to call you the next time? Or me?”
It hit him why she hadn’t scrambled from the car. The envelope in his pocket. He’d forgotten. Though God knew how.
“She’ll call me,” he said. “What nights are you available?” It sounded like a goddamn business deal. Which it was.
“I’m wide-open.”
“I’ll let you know when she has something.” Finally he reached into his pocket. The envelope singed his fingers. The night had been so fucking hot, more than he’d ever expected it to be.
Now he couldn’t even goddamn kiss her.
Fuck that. Laying the envelope in her lap, he wrapped his hand around her nape and pulled her close, stopping short of touching his lips to hers. “Kiss me good night,” he demanded.
He felt the puff of her breath against his mouth. Then she closed her eyes 55
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and licked the seam of his lips. It wasn’t a peck; it was a tease. He opened. She pressed her mouth to his, forayed inside with her tongue. And moaned. The car’s interior heated. Her breasts caressed his chest, and he wanted to crawl across the seat and take her. His fingers flexed along the back of her neck as her taste filled his mouth.
Then she slipped away, leaving him utterly bewitched. “Call me when Isabel calls you,” she said.
The door opened, closed; she unlocked the house, disappeared inside while he watched. His limbs wouldn’t move. He should have followed. Closing his eyes, he leaned his head back. No. Wrong. They had only this. The nights of her dates when he took care of her, made sure she was safe. The nights were all Kern had given him. He hadn’t given Mac his wife. Christ, he needed that next date like he needed a breath.
DANI CLOSED THE DOOR AND SLID DOWN UNTIL HER BUTT HIT THE tile floor.
Oh God. She’d wanted to beg him to come in. Stay with me. The words had hovered on her lips. He would have come if she’d asked. The man could own her if she let him.
“You’re in control,” she whispered to the empty house. She thought she heard the echo of a laugh. It sounded like Kern. Stabbing her hand in her purse, she yanked out her cell. It didn’t seem to matter how late, Isabel usually answered.
“Did it go well?” Isabel wanted to know.
That was code for the money. She’d almost forgotten the envelope in her hand. It wasn’t even why she’d called. “Very well,” Dani said, though she hadn’t checked. Sticking the phone between her shoulder and ear, she opened the envelope. Oh. My. God. She could barely breathe. “They were very appreciative.”
And rich. She’d never expected that much. Damn if it wasn’t heaven-sent, though. She laughed, overcome. “I think I need some more dates like that one.”
“Generous, I take it?”
“Above and beyond,” she admitted. “I’m almost shocked.” Though she’d also say that she and Mac had shown the Stamose
s an extraordinary time, a date they’d never forget, and one she was sure they would try to duplicate. Okay, there was a reason she’d called Isabel. She needed another date as 56
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soon as possible, and it wasn’t all about the money. A date was her excuse to have Mac again. She craved what he’d given her tonight. She was in danger of losing control all over again. With Kern, it was the money. With Mac, it was her body. Or more.
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9
“THAT WASN’T THE DEAL,” MAC SAID THREE DAYS LATER. Though it would have been simple enough to make the arrangements over the phone, Dani had dropped by his Silicon Valley office two hours after Isabel had called him with the lowdown on a date. Mac damn well knew why Dani had come, and it wasn’t the afternoon coffee break she claimed. To make it look good, she’d brought him a stout cup of his favorite brew from the coffee bar across the street. He wasn’t fooled.
Her real mission? She wanted to bat her eyelashes at him, tie his guts in knots, and get him to do anything she wanted. He was in danger of falling for it, too, sucker that he was. At this point, though, he was still maintaining a hard line. Damn difficult with her dressed in tight, sexy jeans and a low-cut formfitting white T-shirt with a black bra beneath it. There was something about seeing a woman’s lingerie through her clothes that set his motor rumbling. It was goddamn slutty, and he loved it.
“This is how Kern did it,” she replied evenly. He wanted to smack a fist on his desk. “I don’t care how Kern did it. We had a deal. I can only look out for you if I’m there to watch.”
Mine Until Morning Page 6