That Kind of Special

by Abby Wood

  “Belt.” He pulled his shirt over his head.

  With no hesitation, she went straight to his buckle. Her fingers brushed the hardness beneath the denim. Trent’s sudden intake of air created a flood of warmth in her. She pulled his belt out of the loops and held it in her hand. Her fingers caressed the smooth leather, still warm from being against his body all day.

  “Put the belt down, baby.” He growled. “So fucking innocent. One day, I’ll show you what it’s like to bind your arms while I take you from behind, then the front, and have you sit on my lap. Fuck, you’ll love it.”

  Electricity sparked between her legs in the most pleasurable away, and she threw the belt to the floor, freaked out by how much she wanted him to hold her down and take all control away from her. Her hands shook, and she lowered her eyes.

  She inhaled deeply through her nose. “Oh my God,” she mumbled.

  He tilted her chin. “You know what you’re doing to me, but you have no idea what I can do for you. I’m going to show you. Baby steps, baby.”

  She undid his zipper. Leaning forward, she tilted her head and gazed into his eyes. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered.

  She swallowed. He always seemed to say the right things. It gave her confidence to keep going. She wanted to find out what he could do for her.

  Trent pushed his jeans over his hips, taking his cotton boxers with them, and then toed off his socks. She could only stare as he walked around the bed, grabbed a condom out of the nightstand, and returned to her.

  He was magnificent. All sculpted planes, tanned skin, and hardness. She trailed her hand across his stomach.

  “Your clothes.” He leaned over and pulled off her tank. “I knew it.”

  She caught him ogling her maroon bra. She didn’t even try to hide her grin. This morning, and every day since meeting him, she’d purposely mismatched her underwear. Secretly, she’d hoped he’d have reason to know even if she never saw him again.

  He hooked his finger under the waist of her short skirt and tugged. She lifted her bottom off the bed, and he laughed as he flung her skirt across the room. “Peach. Brilliant.”

  “It clashes,” she said.

  “It’s fucking hot.”

  “It breaks all kinds of rules in the fashion book for women.”

  “Screw the book.” He lifted her under the arms and fell with her to the middle of the bed, landing on top, but bracing his weight on his elbows. “I want you.”

  She nodded. “I know. It’s kind of obvious”—she rubbed her bare thigh against his hip—”even without the pretty words.”

  “The pretty words are over.” He rolled to the side, handing her the condom. “Where I’m taking you, we’ll be going hard and fast this first time.”

  She gripped the length of him, running her hand down his erection. His hot skin pulsated against her palm. She reluctantly let go, opened the pouch, and rolled on the protection. Then she sat straighter, reaching behind her to unclip her bra.

  “No. Leave it on. Just the panties…”

  She inhaled a shuddering breath. “Okay.”

  Then, his body moved forward. She lay back. Oh, wow.

  How could she forget how big and domineering he was when he was close? All hard, heated, and determined. His strong hands slid behind her head, holding her.

  “Uh, Trent…” she whispered as his lips trailed along her neck and up to her ear. She jolted at the tender nip on her earlobe.

  His deep chuckle vibrated through her. “Feel, baby. Don’t think.”

  Oh, God.

  He brought his hand out from behind her head, slid his fingers down her arm, and over her rib cage. She held her breath. It was too much.

  “Breathe,” he said against her skin.

  His knuckles skimmed the bottom swell of her breast, through the bra, and a deep throb pulsed through her.

  “Trent?” She panted.

  “Unless the house is burning down or you’re in pain or you’ve changed your mind, now would not be a good time to have a conversation.” He slid down, trailing kisses along the length of her stomach.

  She dropped her hold on him and clutched the bedspread. “I just want to—”

  His tongue slid over her clit. “Hm?”

  Delicious warmth flooded her body. She arched her neck, and relaxed her legs, giving him better access. “Never mind.”

  “Fucking perfect,” he muttered between strokes.

  Because Trent had a plan. A plan she wasn’t going to argue about, because it was the best plan in the freaking world. She stopped worrying about exposing herself and giving too much away. There was no way it was physically possible for her to utter a word of protest. The moment was out of her control.

  And even wilder than she imagined.

  Lying in his bed, weak from pleasure, his head between her legs, she became aware that letting him take over, to see to her needs, was the best thing she’d ever experienced. For the first time ever, she was free to accept whatever he gave her because he controlled what happened.

  Her pleasure grew. She bucked against his mouth. The more determined he grew, the more she let her body move. There was no escaping. Thank God.

  He kept pressure on her while doing wonderful things with his tongue. He kept her ass in his palms, holding her captive to his manipulations.

  Tighter, higher, her insides coiled. She dug her toes into the mattress. And her whole world crumbled into a gazillion pieces.

  He continued touching her. Soft, gentle, easing her down from her orgasm. She finally inhaled a deep breath, bringing her back into her body.

  His head came up, and he locked his gaze on hers. She reached for him, clasping her arms around his neck. Her legs circled his hips.

  Then he was all business.

  “Eyes on me,” he whispered.

  When she focused on him, and he saw the moment she gave herself over to him completely, he thrust deep. Her body woke up to the fulfillment of having him inside her. He rode her deep and hard.

  Her body recovered quickly, and she was caught up in him again. She pulled him down, sinking her mouth against the curve of his neck. “Trent…”

  “Fuck, yeah, baby.” He grunted, thrusting root-deep.

  She held on tight as she came again. Her whole body constricted. Waves of pleasure pulsated, taking all her strength. Distantly aware of his holding still, letting go of his release. She dropped down onto the mattress.

  He remained inside her, poised above and looking…supremely pleased with himself.

  She turned her head away from seeing the victorious gleam in his eyes. And she’d fallen straight into his bed. Shit. What am I going to do now?

  Chapter Seven

  Katina paced from the shower to the sink in Trent’s bathroom. She crossed her arms and cupped her elbows in her hands. The only choice she had was to walk out, thank Trent for a wonderful time, act as if everything was better than great, and leave.

  She groaned. She didn’t want to leave. This…this was exactly why she always led the way in new relationships.

  When she called the shots, there were no decisions to stress over. She didn’t worry about what was going through the guy’s mind, because all men wanted sex. She could do sex, but what she and Trent did tonight was not sex. It was something else.

  And it scared her.

  A knock came at the door. “Katina.”

  “Yeah, I’m coming out. Give me a second.” She wrinkled her nose.

  He’d never let her walk away without some kind of explanation. Her reasons were too much for her to deal with at the moment, so she’d have to wait him out and fade away from him gradually without him realizing what she was doing. Besides, what they shared was good, wonderful, but how was she supposed to know if it was a relationship that’d last?

  She opened the door, smiled at Trent, accepted his kiss, and wiggled her way out of his arms. He pulled her back.

  His mouth hardened. “Don’t.”

  “What?” She blinked at hi
m.

  He pushed her hair away from her face. “Want to tell me what happened between the time you came with my cock inside of you and right now? Because I don’t like what I’m seeing.”

  “Nothing.” She laughed, and this time he let her go. “It was great. Thank you.”

  “Thank you?” He scoffed. “Bullshit.”

  She found her flip-flops and slipped into them. “Why are you getting angry?”

  “Because you’re jerking me.” He walked across the room and leaned against the dresser. “I expected you to come out, be content enough to open yourself up, and we could both finish off the evening together. Instead, you’re throwing attitude around.”

  “I don’t know what you expected from me.” She shook her head. “This is what normally happens. Well, I don’t sleep with a guy on the first date—”

  “Second,” he said.

  “Fine. Even on the second date, I don’t have sex with a man I barely know.” She picked up her purse, dug out her phone, and looked at the time. “I should really get back. I’m working on the Mitchells’ house tomorrow, and I’d like to have time to work with the fabric I bought today.”

  “So, that’s it?”

  “Well, not it, as in, that’s it between us. I like you.” She softened her smile. “I’m not jerking you around.”

  “You’re staying.” He moved toward her. “I get that you have to work. So do I. But we have tonight. I told you we’re spending all day together.”

  She crossed her arms. “You’re going to argue with me?”

  “Nope.” He leaned down, kissed her hard, and pinned her with a look. “I’m just not going to let you get away with the shit you normally do.”

  “That’s unfair.”

  He laughed. “Get used to it, baby. That’s how I am, and if we’re going to continue enjoying each other—and we will; that’s a promise—you’ll do it my way.”

  She was a leader. In and out of bed. She gave men more than she received. That out-of-your-head moment during sex that she experienced with Trent always happened to other people, never her. She always stayed aware of what was going on.

  With Trent, the slightest touch and she was writhing on the bed.

  What she never did was let the man give and give and give, only for her to become too sated to figure out that he’d taken over control from the beginning, and she was at his mercy.

  This meant that her time with Trent was different. She’d slipped away from herself and quit paying attention. Her body wanted one thing. Her mind wanted the same thing.

  All because Trent demanded it. So, what did that say about her?

  Her phone rang.

  Trent motioned toward the door. “Go ahead and answer that. I’m going to the kitchen. If that’s Colby, hang up. When you’re finished, come down and have a drink with me.”

  She nodded. “‘Kay.”

  The phone rang again. She glanced at the screen before answering. “Hey.”

  “Here’s me calling with your excuse to leave,” Doreen said.

  “Thanks, but a phone call isn’t going to work with Trent.” Katina sank down on the bed. “I need you to come to his house. Do you think you can remember how to get here?”

  “Yeah, I can figure it out.” Doreen paused. “Are you okay?”

  “Sure.” Katina swallowed. “I’ll tell you more after you pick me up.”

  “Gotcha. Be there in a half hour.” Doreen disconnected the call.

  Katina dropped the phone back in her purse and stood. A fast snack, a little conversation to ease Trent’s mind, and she was out of here.

  * * * *

  Something had turned Katina off, and Trent was damn sure it wasn’t him. He had been right there in bed with her, and experienced the same thing. No woman who came that easily and that powerfully walked away when he was offering her more.

  He’d seen her pull away the moment she recovered from her second orgasm. He took the roast beef from the butcher paper and laid it out on the bread.

  Footsteps came from the hallway. He glanced up and frowned.

  Something was definitely wrong.

  Katina set her purse on the counter and gripped the back of the bar stool. He took in everything about her. The stiff shoulders, the extra lift of her chin, the lack of eye contact. Things were not looking good.

  “Hungry?” He cut the sandwiches in half.

  She nodded. “Yeah.”

  “Go ahead and take the plates to the table, and I’ll grab us something to drink.” He stepped around the island and opened the fridge. “Canned iced tea?”

  “Sure,” she said.

  He walked to the table. “You’re lucky my housekeeper keeps me in cold cuts and beverages. We at least won’t starve. I do know how to make a mean sandwich.”

  She relaxed and laughed. “You just haven’t found the right incentive to learn to cook.”

  “You cook?”

  She bit into the sandwich and nodded. “You’ve met my mom. You don’t really think she spends much time in the kitchen, do you?”

  “No, I guess not.”

  “Instead, she signed me up for cooking camp growing up. After three summers, I was serving three-course meals for her and her friends. She liked to show me off.” She grinned. “All that cooking and baking caught up with me though, and explains why she sent me to fat camp at age fourteen.”

  “No…”

  She laughed. “You don’t think a former Miss USA would have a daughter who is twenty pounds overweight, do you?”

  “That’s awful,” he said.

  “I lost the twenty pounds that summer, and still have the ribbon I received for participation. The trophy went to Jenny Devine, who lost fifty-three pounds.” She shrugged. “I ran into Jenny a couple of years ago. She’s happy, married, and had two kids and a killer body. So, really, she deserved to win.”

  He laughed. “You’ve got a point.”

  The bitterness most women tried to hide after being sent to camp by their perfect mothers wasn’t apparent in Katina. Her smile came easily, and her body remained relaxed. Interesting.

  He opened his iced tea, then reached over and opened hers. “I went to camp.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yeah.” He took a drink. “Guess which one.”

  She tapped her finger against her lips. “Boy Scouts?”

  He grimaced. “Hell no.”

  “Safety…” She clapped her hands. “I got it. You were one of the crossing guards at school, and attended the summer training program. You’ve always had the desire to help the meek cross roads.”

  “Fucking hilarious.” He glared, but the small grin gave him away. “For your information, I went to basketball camp for four years.”

  She leaned back in her chair and studied him. “I can see that. You’ve got the body of a jock.”

  He patted his chest. “Come and show me how much you like it.”

  She glanced away. “I’m still eating.”

  “Baby.” He waited. “Come here.”

  “You shouldn’t call me that.” She wiped her hands off with the napkin. “I’m long past the stage of infancy.”

  He laughed. God, she’s funny.

  “Come here.” He scooted his chair back.

  She sighed loudly, walked around the table, and perched on his knees. He chuckled and pulled her back into his lap. She stiffened, and he used his hand to position her head on his chest, making her relax against him.

  “Don’t you like sitting right here?”

  “I like it,” she whispered.

  He kissed the top of her head. “Good.”

  “But…”

  He gave her a squeeze. “Spill it.”

  “You really shouldn’t call me baby. This is only our first—”

  “Second.”

  She tilted her head. “Whatever. It’s too soon.”

  “So, it’s not that I call you baby, but you think I’m bullshitting you to get you on your back and me between your legs? I’ve been ther
e and I’ll be there again. I don’t plan to leave that spot anytime soon. I’m forty-three years old, and I don’t know if you’re used to younger guys playing the field, but I’m done with that. I want a woman in my bed, in my life, and when I ask her to come here and sit on my lap, I expect her to do it,” he said.

  “Oh.” She frowned, and the lines between her brows deepened.

  “There it is again. I say anything, and you are trying to figure out if I meant something else.” He tilted her back farther. “I mean what I say. That’s something you’ll learn the more time we spend together.”

  She pouted. “You’re bossy.”

  “Yeah.” He ran the pad of this thumb across the width of her lip. “Get used to it.”

  She stared up into his eyes. Her pupils dilated as he stroked her mouth. His dick hardened. He could imagine her sucking him dry.

  “I’m scared,” she whispered.

  “About?” he whispered back. Finally, he’d find out what was bothering her.

  “I’ve never—”

  The doorbell rang. He growled. Whoever was at the door was asking to be shot.

  She straightened. “You better get that.”

  He stopped her from getting up. “Give me a kiss.”

  She did. He held her chin. “We’re not done. I want you to hold that thought, and when I get back from answering the door, you’ll tell me what’s making you throw up all kinds of fucking barriers. Okay?”

  “Yeah.” She hopped off his lap.

  Still, he hesitated. “I mean it.”

  She nodded. “Go answer your door. It could be important.”

  “You’re important,” he said.

  She turned away. He jogged down the hallway and into the foyer. No one was to bother him today. He’d informed his secretary last night.

  He opened the door

  “Hi.” Katina’s friend Doreen stepped toward him, patted his chest, and entered the house without any qualms. “If I told you I got my fill of this house the other day, I’d be lying.”

  “What are you doing here?” He shut the door.

  “I was in the neighborhood and remembered Katina saying she was spending the day with you.” She walked passed him and peeked inside the living room. “So, I thought I’d stop in. I think Kat forgot we needed to go over some plans tonight. We’ve got a”—she waved her hand in the air—”huge, huge contract on the Mitchells’ house. Did she tell you?”