Burn

by Shey Stahl

  Judging by the look on his face, I’d say I’ve mastered this ability. With a tight jaw and heavy-lidded eyes, Caleb’s leaning back in his chair, slouching slightly to one side. His head’s down, lashes shadowing his cheeks when he shifts, his arms draped over the back of the chair next to him. One leg is kicked out in front of him, the other bent, a resting point for the drink in his hand as he studies my every move.

  By the look on his face, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips, the darkness to his eyes, he’s aroused but clearly very entertained. “Don’t fuckin’ stop now. Show me what you got.”

  Oh damn. Now I need to turn it up a notch.

  Whistles and shouts of encouragement come from behind us as I rise from my position and turn to face him.

  It’s on now.

  With my hands on his chest, I go for it and straddle him. Bending my knees and planting my hands firmly on his shoulders now, I rock forward, grinding against him.

  Up until now, he hasn’t touched me. Maybe I caught him off guard.

  Even better.

  And then he touches me, and my heart tries to explode and my panties drench. How can you not be wet the moment his sure and steady hands find their way to your skin?

  I feel each fingertip as he drags it over my ass slowly, but he says nothing. My skin ignites at his touch. It’s a burst of heat that starts in my cheeks and spreads through my entire body all at once, and there’s nothing I can do to stop the flames from taking over completely.

  Given I haven’t known Caleb long, but I know what turns him on and I’ve never seen him so entranced. The fact that I’m doing this to him, creating this hunger deep within his unremitting stare, well, it does things to me, too, regardless of the assholes watching this.

  With my arms around the back of his neck—slick with sweat—my hands glide slowly to his hair, threading tightly.

  Threading his arms around my waist, he groans, a growl from deep within, shaking his chest lifting his hips up to meet mine.

  A shudder runs through me. I’m making him feel this way. I’m not sure why, but I pause right then.

  Cursing under his breath, he then takes a firm hold on me and grinds his cock into my throbbing clit. “Don’t stop,” he rasps.

  He’s not allowing an inch of space come between us. Instead, his hands hold me firmly against his pelvis, rocking us back and forth.

  There’s a trembling to his body that makes it easier because I know I’m doing something right. And there are so many things running through my head that I can’t focus on any one in particular to act on them. Just move. That’s what I tell myself to do, and that’s what I do.

  As the song progresses, my movements come naturally, slow and persistent. I grind into him, letting him know just how much I want him but I also keep up with the theatrics of the song and the playfulness I intended to show him. Like when I somehow position myself to standing again, slide my right leg over his shoulder and pretend to hump his face.

  Throwing his head back in a fit of deep laughter, I have to go back to straddling him so I don’t fall on the floor, but still, I got him laughing.

  Caleb’s hands run up my chest, his fingers gliding over my breasts as he squeezes my tits in both his strong hands. Sliding down on his lap again, he’s so hard underneath me I feel like I’m sitting on a metal pipe.

  The roughness of his jeans slides along my center, the thinness of my panties allowing me to absorb it, and I’m not going to lie here—I know he can feel how wet I am.

  Acting the part of a dirty stripper also has me talking like a hooker. I start saying all kinds of shit. Like, “I’m so wet . . .” and “My pussy aches for you . . .” and what I never expect to ever leave my lips, I shiver at this one because this is so clearly not me, “You like me riding your cock . . . don’t you, Daddy?”

  Excuse me, Daddy?

  Seriously, though, who drugged me? Jacey had to have put something in that Bay Breeze.

  And you know what all this dirty talking does?

  Gets Caleb worked the fuck up. He’s so worked up his chest his heaving, virtually gasping for breaths as his mouth attacks any bare skin he can get to as he frantically drags me back and forth over his cock.

  My nails claw at him, and I hold myself tightly against his panting chest, rocking against him. His hands dig into my hips, gripping me so hard I’m sure bruises will be there later.

  I know the song is just about over, and I try that whole “whip your head around” thing, get dizzy, and decide that particular move isn’t for me. So back to the dry humping I go.

  When the song ends, we don’t stop. The song changes to Mickey Avalon’s “My Dick.” I know Owen has something to do with the song choice.

  Caleb licks his bottom lip. Leaning in, I can smell the whiskey on his breath. “You have no idea how much I want you right now. No idea.”

  Oh, I think I do now.

  “I want to fuck you”—a tender growl I can’t resist touches his voice—“right here, in front of everyone. Show them you’re mine.”

  Holding my breath, I’m stunned by his admission. I know this side of Caleb very well, but to be around all these people and have him say these things to me . . . it’s different.

  With sure movements, his hands glide over me. Finding my shoulder blades and then wrapping over my shoulders, he pulls me down on him, hard.

  Arching myself once again and extending my arms, I wrap them around his neck. Rising on my toes, I rock forward, the chair creaking.

  With my motions, his head falls back with an animalistic growl.

  My body shudders. The way he shifts my hips makes me open my eyes.

  When I look down, I notice his jeans are undone. I smile, impressed that I somehow undid them during everything.

  Caleb’s eyes lock on my body, his gaze memorizing my every feature and curve. He doesn’t even notice his jeans.

  I’m breathing heavily, cheeks flushed. Honestly, I’m panting.

  “I want you so bad,” he breathes against my neck, echoing my exact thoughts, his voice and body trembling, swiveling my hips against him.

  “You do?”

  “I do.” The muscles in his stomach flex and contract with each labored breath he takes. I can tell his resolve is crumbling when he sweeps his shaking hand across the back of his neck. “It’s hard not to when you look like this.” He motions to my body, straddling him.

  Moving my hands lower, I play with his belt actually considering it. It wouldn’t be all that hard.

  Caleb groans into my mouth, the want emanating from his voice. “Hey,” he says roughly in my ear, his arms wrapping tightly around my waist. “I want to fuck you. I do. But not here.”

  “But you said . . .” Not that I was going to do it. It’s a little too public for me—aside from the grocery store incident with Judah—but the fact that Caleb’s so into it, I thought for sure he’d try something. Maybe discreetly slipping it in. Hell, I don’t know.

  One look at him and I can tell Caleb isn’t used to this sort of thing. In his life, and even with me, he’s always been in control but now, here, surrounded by a group of onlookers, he has no control, and it lays with me.

  As exhilarating as this is, I know we’re getting a little too into it for being in public.

  I go to stand, but I’m quickly stopped. Catching myself against his shoulders, I break out into a fit of nervous giggles.

  “Don’t move yet.” His eyebrows lift. “Unless you want everyone to see how fucking hard I am right now.” Playfully, he nibbles at my neck as I grind myself against him, carefully rocking back and forth. His fingers clench my wrists at my sides as he kisses my bare shoulders. “So sexy . . .” His teeth graze my skin with a pressure that borders on pain, but it’s enough I want to shove his head between my legs and beg him to bite my clit like he did the other day when he had me laid over my desk. “I can’t wait to sink my cock into your tight, hot pussy.”

  Sweet Jesus.

  A moan pushes past my lips,
his filthy words clawing at my insides, and there’s a good part of me that wants to reach inside his pants and pull that cock out and show him how hot my pussy is for him. God, what’s wrong with me? I’m telling you, Jacey drugged me.

  “Time’s up,” Owens says, peeking around the curtain. Like he needed to peek. They’d all been watching, and I know somehow filmed it. I’ll be asking for a copy later.

  Owen slaps his shoulder when we emerge from the room “Caleb, you need to marry that girl.”

  Taking a large swig from his drink in hand again, Caleb squints as he swallows. “I never said I wouldn’t marry her someday.”

  It’s only he says, and I die a little inside.

  Okay. Hold up a fucking minute. I don’t even have his phone number and he just said that? And why am I excited about it to the point I want to create a Pinterest board already?

  Laughing, Caleb shakes his head and winks. It’s then I remember when Jacey told me most of what Caleb says is bullshit.

  With his arm around my shoulder, Caleb whispers, “All these people saw what you just did.” His commanding voice draws my attention to him. “How do you feel about that?”

  “Dirty,” I admit.

  “Don’t.”

  Simply put, sure, but my face is a pretty shade of red at those words. He notices. Leaning forward, he runs his fingers gently over my cheeks, then stops and cups his hand around the side of my face. Naturally, I lean into him.

  “It was hot,” he assures me. “Don’t be embarrassed.”

  You know how when a girl blushes, men think it’s cute, or sexy?

  That’s not me. I’m not one of those girls. I’m the one who appears to be having an allergic reaction. My chest gets all splotchy, and then I start itching. It’s not attractive.

  I once had a guy ask me if I needed Benadryl when all I was trying to do was ask for his number.

  “I worked up a sweat,” I admit, fanning myself. Caleb smiles and leads me to the bar as I beg him to dance with me. I had so much adrenaline running through me after that, I can’t wait to dance with him again. “No.” I tug him away from the bar. “Let’s just dance.”

  “No.” He shakes his head adamantly. “You don’t seem to understand.” His voice drops, and his eyes focus on mine, the green heavy with want. “I’m done. I can’t take it. If I dance with you now, I’ll probably come in my pants.”

  I laugh. There’s not much I can say to that. And I kind of want it to happen, in a weird way.

  You know those nights when you didn’t think they’d turn out good but they do, kind of like the night I met Caleb?

  I’m pretty sure they don’t exist in my life.

  We’re at the bar, Caleb with his arm around me, and I order another Bay Breeze, him a whiskey and we intend to go back to the booth where Scarlet’s making out with Kellan.

  Caleb’s grabby as we stand there waiting, and biting my neck with kisses when I hear a gravelly voice ask, “Can I buy you two a drink?”

  HAZMAT

  Hazardous materials, including solids, liquids, or gases that may cause injury, death, or damage if released or triggered.

  Flames of hostile silence envelope me when I see Nixon standing there.

  Why does shit like this happen? Why?

  “Nixon . . .” There’s a warning in my voice, kind of like the last time I saw him at the Grand Hyatt that night. I hope, for his sake, he understands and leaves right now.

  Caleb doesn’t miss my reaction.

  “That was a sexy dance you did in there, Mila. Think I can buy one from you too?”

  I glance over at Caleb when I feel his body tense beside me, rage filling his eyes. Nixon had just seen what I did . . . for Caleb.

  Talk about feeling disgusted. I want to throw up. I no longer want to do it in front of my office windows either.

  I feel dirty. And one look in Nixon’s direction immediately tells me that’s how he wants me to feel.

  “Or should I just come to your office and you can show me how sturdy your desk is?”

  He saw us in my office. But how?

  I’m careful not to respond in any way. I don’t want Nixon knowing he’s getting to me, but when I look up, he winks without a hint of subtlety. Sick bastard.

  I start to say something and then bite my tongue knowing who he is and the connections he has with the hotel.

  “Get the fuck out of here, man,” Caleb says, taking a step toward him, his muscular shoulders tense, an anger that could blind the sun and set fire to ice emitting through him.

  Holy shit. Pissed off Caleb is something else. Even gains the attention of Owen and Kellan, who appear out of nowhere to stand next to him.

  Nixon’s watching Caleb with curiosity, and I catch something in Nixon’s eyes that makes me uneasy. “Why?” He reaches for his beer on the bar. “Do you own this bar?”

  Caleb’s protective side stirs. And judging by his reaction earlier today about me moving in with Tom, I’m beginning to see what side of this personality trait I want to be on. The non-psychotic side.

  “Why are you here?” I ask with a shaky voice.

  Caleb glances at me, noticing, then back to Nixon.

  Nixon makes a sweep around the bar with his eyes, his face somber, apparently deciding on what he’s going to say. “I’ve known this girl a lot longer than you, son.”

  Son? Nixon’s barely thirty. Who’s he calling son?

  “You have known her a while, but she’s on my dick, not yours,” Caleb says, watching his brother and Owen move closer before he returns his gaze to Nixon.

  Nixon laughs, shaking his head, and I feel Caleb’s hand twitch in mine. “Okay, sure, you have the upper hand right now, only because I want you to. But don’t think for one second I’m not at least five steps ahead of you. You’ve got nothing on a guy like me . . . Caleb Ryan.”

  Okay, so Nixon’s done research on him? Jesus Christ.

  “You’ll never be ahead of a guy like me,” Caleb tells him, his voice even. Anyone around us knows by the timbre, Caleb means what he’s saying.

  “Are you baiting me? Do you really think that’s wise right now?”

  Caleb shifts his weight, leaning against the bar to appear relaxed, though I know he’s not, especially with the hand holding mine. “Most men would have moved on by now. What’s your problem that you keep trying to get inside her?”

  Nixon watches Caleb over his drink and then winks, setting the half-empty glass on the bar. “I’m sure you can agree by looking at her she’s one to wait for. And you know, while we’re at it, you remember anytime you want the upper hand over another man, you take what they love.”

  Caleb doesn’t say anything, but I can tell he wants to fight him so badly, show him with his fists instead of with words.

  It’s clear Caleb’s barely holding his tongue; the venom he wants to speak is there in the way his jaw clenches and then slackens with each word Nixon speaks. But there’s a part of him that doesn’t want to give into him and let him see he’s gotten to him.

  Something inside Caleb snaps and he drops my hand, locking eyes with Nixon. “Stay away from her,” he warns.

  Nixon laughs. “Are you threatening me?”

  “I’m warning you, but you can take it as a threat if you want.”

  Nixon’s eyes barely move, but I know Caleb has his attention this time.

  “What makes you think I care?” Nixon asks, staring at Caleb, waiting for his reaction.

  “Because you should care,” Caleb warns.

  Nixon shrugs carelessly. “For being a man in the public services, you’d think you’d be nicer to the people paying into your Benevolent Fund. Your fire marshal grandfather might have something to say if I stop donating.”

  Caleb smiles, baiting him. “Like I give a shit if you stop giving the department your dirty money, and I can fuckin’ guarantee you my grandfather would tell you to shove your money up your ass.”

  “Well, shit, kid, don’t hold back.” Nixon throws his head back, lau
ghing. “But then again, is he really your grandfather?”

  And that’s when Caleb loses all control. It’s like a switch is flicked.

  “Is that a question?” Caleb takes a menacing step forward, backing Nixon up against the bar, much like the night I met him and the dude he beat the shit out of. “Or are you just trying to piss me off?”

  “I don’t think I’m trying,” Nixon taunts. “I think I’ve already got you pissed off.”

  I’m sure Nixon could hold his own, but Caleb’s got him on height, size, and ability. He carries forty pounds of gear, hauls two-hundred-pound men over his shoulders down ten-story buildings. Nixon doesn’t stand a chance, and I think he knows that. This isn’t about some kind of tough-guy thing. He’s only here to get inside Caleb’s head.

  But why?

  “Got nothing to say now, huh?” Nixon taunts again, egging him on.

  That does it. Caleb punches him. It happens fast. He pushes me back into Owen’s chest and then delivers a precise punch to Nixon’s jaw.

  It takes him a second to gain his bearings, but once he does, Nixon attempts to fight back. Which doesn’t work in his favor, and only seems to set Caleb off further.

  What am I doing?

  Crying. Bar fights are scary shit.

  “Just admit it, I can bring you to your fucking knees and you know it,” Nixon yells, backing up and wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. Spitting to the side, he repeats the motion and stares at Caleb. “You may not be afraid of me, but you’re afraid of something.”

  Caleb’s expression flares at his words but he laughs, mocking almost.

  The bouncer has arrived and starts pushing the two of them apart. I get a glimpse at Caleb when he’s up against the bar, held back by Kellan and Owen.