Pure Pleasure

by Ava McKnight

  I squeezed and released, then squeezed harder.

  He let out a sharp grunt. “That’s it. Fuck me.”

  I worked his cock with my inner muscles as he continued to finger my clit. The frenzy of sensations within me gathered speed and strength until I couldn’t hold them back a second longer. My orgasm was as powerful as all the others before it, and I cried out again. Ky’s body shuddered too, and then he whispered my name in my ear as the shudder turned into convulsing that pushed his cock deeper into me, prolonging my climax.

  “Oh Christ.” I gasped. The flurry of vibrant energy coursing through my veins didn’t dim as Ky held me. Our heavy breathing filled the silent room and he nuzzled my neck, his face buried in my hair.

  I had no desire to move. I didn’t let the concerns I’d had earlier enter my mind. I’d admitted to myself the difficulty of the situation and the inherent repercussions. I wasn’t inclined to hash them out further, not when I was nestled in a cozy cocoon with Ky. Time, for a little while, stood still.

  Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to stay on my cloud forever. Eventually, Ky released me and he shifted on the bed, away from me.

  “Did I crush you?” he asked with a self-deprecating laugh as he shoved a hand through his sexily mussed hair.

  Rolling onto my hip, I said, “Not at all. I was enjoying all those hard muscles surrounding me and your hands on my body.”

  He grinned. “You’re irresistible, what can I say?”

  “So why’d you move?”

  Another chuckle teased my ears and my senses. He slipped off the bed in a fluid, graceful motion. He headed toward the bathroom, saying over his shoulder, “Don’t go anywhere.”

  So he had known.

  I didn’t move a muscle until he returned. Then I used the restroom and tidied myself up. I returned to the bed and he snuggled next to me, spooning me, his arms around me once again.

  He’d been right. This was heaven.

  As though his thoughts ran the same direction as mine did, he asked, “Better than the Seattle Four Seasons?”

  “This boat is spectacular,” I told him. “The company is even better.”

  “Ah, so good for my ego.” His voice was warm and dreamy. “Tell me one place you’d visit in Seattle if money wasn’t an object.”

  “I know just the place,” I said without a second thought. “It’s actually inside the Four Seasons. A chocolate shop called Fran’s. Very upscale, as you can imagine. They had free samples when my mother and I were there. The chocolates were small and perfectly molded—a deliciously wrapped present with a tiny heap of sprinkles on top, piled in the center. It was almost a shame to bite into such a pretty, delicate package, but when I did…” I sighed, recalling that very precious moment with my mother when we’d felt spoiled by something as simple as a piece of chocolate.

  “My God,” I said, as the memory rushed back to me. “The rich dark-chocolate coating was luxurious. The caramel inside was smooth and decadent…and the burst of gray salt—that’s what the sprinkles were—was so unexpected and sensational. I can’t even describe how fantastic and self-indulgent the chocolate was. It was extraordinary, really.”

  I could almost taste the dynamic combination of the sweet and salty flavor on my tongue.

  “So you have a sweet tooth?” Ky asked.

  “Not really. I’d just never tasted something so rich and luscious. Of course, my mother and I were shocked to find a small box cost almost thirty dollars. You can imagine our jaws dropping to the floor over the more elaborate, nearly hundred-and-fifty-dollar Japanese Chabako boxes with truffles inside them. The most expensive chocolate we’d ever splurged on was a two-dollar-and-ninety-nine-cent heart-shaped box we bought at a drugstore one Valentine’s Day.” I remember how awestruck we’d been by the chocolate shop, the treats and the prices. “On the bus home, she told me the day I should consider myself successful would be the day I walked into Fran’s and bought a big box of chocolates without thinking twice about the cost. Without it putting even the tiniest dent in my budget or making me feel guilty for purchasing something so frivolous and decadent.”

  Ky was quiet for a few moments, then asked, “You haven’t been back to Seattle since you left?”

  “No. I’m saving that trip for the day I can afford to take Fran’s to my mother without cringing over the price tag.”

  “Success comes in a lot of different packages, sweetheart,” he said in a low voice.

  “Yes, but everyone has something with which to measure it by, right? This is the bar I set for myself.”

  “Hmm. Ever consider you might be selling your accomplishments short?”

  “No,” I was quick to say. “I want my mom to have more. Remember I told you how ashamed she was that she couldn’t provide for me in the way she wanted? I think every mother must feel that way when they can’t give their kids the stars and the moon. I hadn’t wanted those things for myself back then, but I want them for her. She’s so devoted and full of love.” Tears stung my eyes as I thought of my mom, a very warm and compassionate woman. “She hasn’t been on a single date since my dad died. She could never love anyone else. Her loyalty is still to him and, as much as I wish she’d find a happier romantic ending, I can at least appreciate and respect the fact she loved him so much, she can’t love anyone else in the same way. Doesn’t even want to, really.”

  “That’s one hell of a commitment.”

  “Yes. But I guess when you find your soul mate, there’s no substitute.”

  He kissed my shoulder, but didn’t seem to have anything to add to my assumption. He held me tightly and I reveled in the comforting embrace. It chased away my tears.

  Finally, he said, “I have to be up early, but you can sleep in. No one will bother you here. The trucks are off the line at eight and will run for several hours.”

  “I’m excited to see the race,” I told him. “Now that I know more about the sport, it’s really quite interesting.”

  “Wait ’til tomorrow. Hundreds of enthusiastic fans amp up the energy level. It’s something to see.”

  I was looking forward to it. “I’ll be there. Now you should sleep.”

  “Sweet dreams,” he murmured against my neck.

  I closed my eyes and kept my previously damning thoughts about what I was doing in his bed out of my head awhile longer. The soft snoring from the hunky man whose chest was pressed to my back and whose tight embrace seemed to assure him I wouldn’t leave in the middle of the night—as much as it reassured me he didn’t want me to go—left me with a comforting feeling. I didn’t want to taint it with negativity, so I didn’t think of how detrimental it might be to my heart to drag this out. I played dumb for the night and enjoyed the perfection of the moment.

  * * * * *

  Ky was up before the sun. Literally.

  His erection pressed against the crevice of my ass and it was yet another titillating sensation to go with all the others he evoked.

  With a smile teasing my lips, I shifted in his arms as he stirred next to me. A sexy groan from him lit my insides and I asked, “You don’t have a secret stash of condoms somewhere, do you?”

  “No, damn it,” he said, his sensuous, sleepy tone filled with regret. “I had to scrounge up the first two as it was. Getting laid during a race is usually the last thing on my mind. Hell,” he said as he gave this more thought, “it hasn’t been on my mind for a very, very long time. I’m always working and…” He stared down at me with an easy grin. “You were never around until now.”

  I lost my breath. God, how bad and wrong was it that I’d finally met a man I felt monumentally attracted to and comfortable with, who said and did all the right things, but who lived in another state and had an entirely different lifestyle than anything I’d ever experienced? He so easily uttered words I hadn’t even known I’d waited with bated breath my entire adult life to hear. Even more evocative was the way he delivered his sweet and sexy sentiments with a genuine tone and a searing look in his beautiful bl
ue eyes.

  But in the grand scheme of things, he was way out of my reach.

  “Exactly how much do you enjoy Texas?” I found myself asking.

  He stared quizzically at me. “What?”

  “Never mind,” I mumbled. What was I thinking? That he might be so enthralled with me he’d actually relocate for me? I groaned inwardly at how quickly I was putting the cart before the horse. Those amazing orgasms had scrambled my brain.

  Despite having gotten ahead of myself for a few minutes, I still wanted him. I lazily skimmed my fingers down his rigid torso until I grazed his cock, making him grunt in that carnal way that drove me wild. I closed my hand around his thick shaft and pumped it with a firm grip. His fingers tangled in my messy hair and he pulled me to him for a scorching kiss.

  I inched my hand up to the tip of his cock and rubbed it before moving back down to his shaft, and then lower still to cup his balls. I gently rolled and massaged them. In turn, he kissed me more passionately, with that unique mixture of heat and tenderness. I tried not to read between any lines, but I couldn’t deny that he told me how much he wanted me without saying a word.

  When I broke the kiss and trailed my lips and tongue over his hard chest, down his stomach and to his cock, he gently clasped my shoulders and guided me onto my back.

  “I don’t have a problem with that, you know,” I told him, wondering if he thought I wasn’t the sort of woman who’d go down on a guy. I normally wasn’t, in truth, but with him, I had the urge to touch and taste him everywhere. And to return the pleasure he gave me.

  He said, “I can use the adrenaline rush to get me moving this morning. What I can’t do is leave this bed without giving you one more orgasm.”

  The man certainly had a way with words.

  “Well, if you insist,” I teased, a mere second before his mouth covered mine again and his hands went to work on my already aroused body.

  He cupped my breasts and caressed them with his lightly callused hands. The friction on my nipples had them pebbled tight in a heartbeat. Then one hand slipped between my legs and he worked his magic on my clit before easing two fingers deep into my wet pussy.

  I tore my mouth from his as a moan rushed through my parted lips. He had me barreling quickly toward the ragged edge, knowing all the right buttons to push.

  “I’ve never had an interest in morning sex,” I told him, “but dear God, I wish you had a condom.”

  He grinned. “This’ll have to suffice.”

  “A pleasurable compromise,” I muttered as his head bent to my chest and his tongue whisked over a hard nipple.

  I was deliriously happy this man never seemed to do anything half-assed. As he sucked the taut peak, he withdrew his fingers from me and the pads rubbed my clit with lightning-fast speed and just the right pressure.

  I gasped at the heat igniting low in my belly and the throbbing in my cunt. My fingers threaded through his hair and my body writhed as my breathy pants filled the suite.

  He released my nipple and kissed my neck, his teeth grazing my skin, making me even hotter.

  “I love those sexy sounds you make when you’re turned-on,” he whispered against my throat, his lips brushing over the sensitive flesh.

  “I love what you’re doing to me,” I said honestly. He knew my body well, but more than that, he knew how to engage my mind and my emotions, giving me little pieces of himself along the way to assure me this had been no tawdry one-night stand.

  He moved down my body, his lips blazing a trail over my quivering flesh, until he was between my legs. With his fingers still stroking my pussy, his tongue toyed with my clit, first lapping at me, then flicking quickly, making me squirm on the bed.

  I spread my legs wider and lifted my hips. His fingers pumped faster inside me and his tongue teased me into a sexual frenzy that was downright decadent and highly arousing.

  “Oh Christ.” I moaned as the sensations built within me and erupted. “Ky! Oh God, yes!”

  He dropped light kisses on my belly as I came.

  Several glorious moments passed and my body still thrummed with an exciting energy. When I caught my breath, I said, “You should be given some sort of award for that.”

  Ky chuckled. Then he slipped from the bed and headed toward the restroom, saying over his shoulder, “Just takes the right chemistry, babe.” He winked at me and my heart skipped a few beats.

  As he showered, I snuggled under the covers. I honestly didn’t have a coherent thought in my head the entire time as I luxuriated over my sexual and emotional bliss. When he reappeared and dressed in Levi’s and a T-shirt, I thought he was absolutely spectacular and amazingly hunky. I watched him with lids at half-mast as he pulled on a racing jacket with his sponsors’ names embroidered down both sides of the flap, then retrieved another one and laid it at the foot of the bed.

  Sitting on the edge of the mattress next to me, he said, “Use that jacket today. It’s chilly this morning, and it’ll be dusty in the pits and around the track.”

  “Not a white-fur environment?” I quipped in my drowsy tone.

  “Unless you want a hellacious dry-cleaning bill.”

  “No, thanks. I’m saving up for chocolates, remember?”

  His head dipped and he kissed me, then added, “The galley’s stocked. Help yourself to breakfast. Enjoy the race and then… Meet at the finish line this afternoon? I might have a great surprise for you—for your article. And I want to see you again tonight.”

  “I’ll look for the matching jacket.” As if I could miss him in a crowd. Impossible.

  He snagged another kiss from me, then said, “Wish us luck.”

  “Good luck.”

  I watched him go, recalling every delicious thing he’d done to me from the moment I’d met him. And tricking myself into believing one more evening with him wouldn’t lead to the eventual parting of ways being the death of me.

  I drifted off to sleep, but woke around eight thirty, collected my clothes, slipped into Ky’s jacket and walked to my room. The casino was deserted, with everyone at the race.

  After showering and dressing, then grabbing some fruit at the deli off the hotel lobby, I wandered over to the racing area. Hundreds of fans lined the track and cheered and rallied as cars and trucks came through on their second lap.

  I watched the vehicles sail over large and small bumps and come down either perfectly aligned with the path carved into the land or dangerously off balance. Some skittered sideways, creating a cloud of dust. Others bounced almost violently as the drivers fought to get the cars under control. A few of the trucks dented their side panels as they launched off berms and slammed into jumps they didn’t clear. One landed on the two driver-side wheels and I gasped as the truck teetered precariously, about to tip over. My heart leapt into my throat as I thought of Ky’s father crashing, the rollover killing both him and his co-driver.

  But the truck in front of me stabilized and the two tires on the right side hit the track and the vehicle was off, leaving a flurry of dirt in its wake.

  My heart still pounding, I left the raucous activity and perused the long line of vendors. Spotting one with a sign that hung across the awning above a table, which read Off-Road Rally Magazine, I headed that way.

  The older gentleman sitting at the table featuring a large spread of back issues stood when he saw my press pass.

  “Giselle Kemper, Scottdale Live,” I greeted him with a smile and a handshake.

  “Dan Peters. Nice to meet you.”

  I eyed the collection of magazines sprawled before me and realized this sport truly was a bona fide and incredibly popular one.

  “Take some copies with you,” Dan offered. “We’re online too.”

  “Thanks,” I said as I picked up a few. “I’m working on an article for my publisher and these’ll come in handy.”

  “Let me know if I can answer any questions you have.”

  “That’s very kind. I appreciate it. I’ve actually been speaking with—” My train of
thought instantly jumped the tracks as my gaze landed on an issue at the end of the table, propped up with a special holder.

  I reached for the magazine, shocked disbelief making my eyes blink numerous times as I stared at the cover—which had Ky’s picture on it.

  Along with the absolutely breathtaking photo of the man who’d made love to me last night was a headline that screamed at me, making my mind reel. It said, “Two-Time Best Dirt Driver of the Year—Ky Richards.”

  “Holy shit,” I mumbled.

  “You okay?” Dan asked, his voice barely registering over the sudden buzz in my head.

  “Yeah, sure,” I lied. “Do you mind if I take this copy? I know this guy.”

  “Oh, yeah, that’s Ky. Great guy. Amazing driver. Takes after his old man.”

  My head whipped in the direction of the racetrack and all I could think was he’s in danger! Ky was in one of those trucks right this very second. Anxiety and panic and fear collided inside me, stealing my breath as much as Ky’s devilishly handsome face on the cover of the magazine did. But then I remembered our conversation about his special roll cage, and I relaxed a little.

  “Excuse me,” I said to Dan. I took the magazine and walked away. I found an empty picnic table and sat down, my head still spinning.

  I put Off-Road Rally on the table and flipped to the feature on Ky. There was a full-color picture of him with his truck. A black-and-white photo of him in a dress shirt and jeans. A shot of the boat I’d slept on last night, and another of a building with Richards Racing Parts stamped across the top of it.

  Scanning the article as my stomach plummeted to somewhere around my knees, I quickly learned Ky was the sole heir to his family’s multimillion-dollar business and he owned KR Racing, along with the expensive Trophy Truck, boat and helicopter that were part of the team’s conglomerate.

  I slipped out of my jacket and stared at the back of it, where KR Racing was scrawled across the dark-blue material in a red, edgy print. I’d not made the correlation, likely because I’d had no real reason to assume Ky actually owned the team.