by Melody Anne
That knowledge was the most intense aphrodisiac ever. He moved his hands oh so slowly from her hips, up her sides, and around the edges of her breasts. His magic fingers came close to her swollen nipples, but not close enough. She groaned her displeasure at the way he was teasing her.
After looking into her expressive eyes, he finally let his thumbs glance over those hard peaks before sliding his hands to her stomach and circling them behind her to squeeze the cheeks of her firm ass.
“Kiss me,” she said, and she reached behind his head and pulled him to her.
He was more than happy to oblige.
Running his tongue over her lips, he quickly parted them and thrust inside, in just the way he wanted to thrust into her heat. She drew him more tightly to her and returned his kiss with the same intense passion.
A cry of pleasure escaped her beautiful lips when he slid a hand back around and rubbed his fingers against her wet heat, and then pinched her little bundle of nerves, making her shake.
“I need to taste you,” he said, after ripping his mouth away from her lips. He licked his way down her chest and dropped to his knees.
Gripping her thighs, he pushed them apart and looked up at her smooth perfection, her sweet folds gleaming with water and pleasure. He ran his hand up and didn’t stop until he’d buried two fingers deep within her.
Only then did he lean forward to suck the most sensitive part of her into his mouth, flicking his tongue repeatedly against it as his fingers found a perfect rhythm of pumping in and out of her.
His midnight woman clutched his head tightly, and her cries told him she was coming closer and closer to release. Yes, he wanted to give her pleasure—over and over and over again.
So he didn’t stop pleasing her with his fingers and tongue until she screamed and almost crumpled right there in front of him.
Cooper stood up quickly, more than ready to be inside this woman. Bracing his foot on the tiled shower bench, he lifted one of her legs and draped it over his so his hardness was poised at her entrance, her thighs spread wide. He gripped himself and rubbed his arousal along the open seam of her pink core.
“Ohh, that’s so good. Please . . . more,” she moaned, leaning her head against the shower wall.
Moving his manhood up and down over her swollen nub a few times more, he waited until he was coated in her juices, then he poised himself for entry.
“Open your eyes,” he commanded her.
She opened them just a little, and, after pulling her up, he slid all the way inside her tight heat.
Her mouth opened in a gasp and he took the opportunity to thrust his tongue inside in perfect rhythm with the way he was plunging into her body, all while gripping her delectable derrière.
The sound of their wet bodies slapping against each other was driving Cooper wild. He sped up and almost poured his seed into her when she tightened around him again. She gave another long and impassioned cry.
He stopped thrusting and held her as she shuddered in ecstasy, and he gently caressed her mouth and squeezed her buttocks. When she slumped against him again, he pulled from her. An act of amazing willpower.
“I’m so worn out,” she said, leaning her head against his shoulder.
“It’s not over, beautiful, not yet,” he whispered into her ear.
“I can’t do any more,” she told him.
“Oh, yes, yes, you can,” he assured her.
Her eyes flew up, and he smiled at her before he turned her around and pressed his arousal against the exquisite cushion of her ass.
“Grip the edge of the bench,” he told her as he pushed against her upper back.
She leaned down, leaving her derrière up in the air. Dropping to his knees, he bit each of those cheeks in turn before soothing the red spots with his tongue, and then he stood again and rested his pulsing erection in the valley she was presenting to him, enjoying how perfect the deep red looked against her light skin.
With his foot, he pushed her legs apart—wider—wider—even wider. When she was fully opened up to him, he reached around and found her still-swollen nub, which he stroked a few times, making her twitch against him.
With his other hand he guided himself down the middle of her ass until he reached her core, and then he thrust back inside her. Now it was time for them both to feel pleasure.
She groaned as he moved his hand between her folds, up her belly to her tender nipples, and then back again. He continued caressing her with one hand while gripping her hip with the other, thrusting and thrusting.
“Come for me one more time, baby,” he told her as he felt his release drawing nearer.
He flicked his fingers against her bud and she screamed as she convulsed around him so intensely that he almost reached orgasm without any movement at all. But he had to move. Pushing deep inside her, he released a hot stream of pleasure, pulsing over and over again until he was entirely drained.
When he could finally take a step back, Cooper felt lost pulling away from her heat. And she nearly collapsed before him, but he was able to catch her.
“That was . . . it was . . . I don’t even know how . . .” She was clearly at a loss for words.
“It was perfect,” he told her as he lifted her in his arms and then stepped from the shower. He grabbed a couple of towels before carrying her back to his room.
He dried her off before laying her down gently on the bed, and he quickly dried himself. Then he joined her, pulling her back into his arms. He wasn’t willing to let her go just yet. Or anytime soon, for that matter.
He’d be careful, he assured himself. This was only sex—just really, really good sex. The thought didn’t appease him like it should have as he finally closed his eyes and fell into an exhausted slumber.
CHAPTER FOUR
Never before had Stormy had to do the walk of shame, but as she grabbed her tiny handbag and slowly crept away from Green Eyes’ bedroom, she glanced back over her shoulder and took in a deep breath.
Dang, the man was good-looking—beyond good-looking, actually, especially now, with stubble on his strong jawline and his muscled arm thrown up above his head, the blankets resting very low on his beautiful hips. Just a few more inches . . .
No, she didn’t need to entertain that thought. This was a man she would never see again. Their only connection was the Anderson wedding—a wedding she’d crashed. Her one night of debauchery couldn’t cause any repercussions.
When she was on the upper deck of his boat, she peeked out to see whether anyone was around. How paranoid was that? It was about eight in the morning and the wedding reception had gone on long into the night. Everyone was most likely asleep and cruising for a champagne bruising.
Still, she was going to have to trek back up the trail they’d come down the night before, sneak out to the front gate—which had seemed to be a mile from the Anderson castle—and then pray that it was open. The last thing she wanted to do was trudge back to the house and beg someone to let her out.
They’d know exactly what she’d been doing. And even though they had no idea who she was and she would never see them again, her embarrassment would be incalculable. She knew it shouldn’t matter, but she cared about what people thought of her.
Stormy made it to the top of the trail and then peered out at the house, surprised to see activity in the backyard. Trucks were there hauling things away and the yard was almost back to normal, or what she assumed was normal, after that enormous party. Wow! These Anderson people moved really fast.
Putting her head down, she walked as quickly as her body-hugging little red dress would allow. She made no eye contact with anyone as she hurried along.
“Hello there!”
The boisterous voice startled her so much, she dropped her purse and jumped into the air. As she came back down, off balance, the heel on her shoe snapped, and after wobbling for a moment, she landed hard on her rear end.
“I’m so sorry, darling,” the man said—a freaking giant.
He approached quickly, mov
She had no doubt that this was the famous Joseph Anderson, and she fully understood his reputation as a man to whom no one could ever say no.
“Don’t worry about it. I was in my own world,” she said, looking way up at his concerned expression. He had to be many, many inches over six feet. She only stood five feet six—in heels, and she was now short one of those. His silver hair only made him more distinguished in her opinion, and the twinkle in his surprisingly sharp blue eyes made her instantly inclined to trust him.
“Come on inside and we’ll get you fixed up,” he insisted as he pulled her toward the house. She stumbled behind him.
Uh-oh, maybe she could imagine telling him no after all. She wasn’t going into his house. Not a chance. She had to get away before Green Eyes awoke.
“Oh, no. I was just getting ready to leave,” she said, trying without success to tug against the beast of a man.
“I can’t send you off without making sure you’re all right, not after causing you to fall,” Joseph said.
“I promise you, I’m okay. I really just want to get going now,” she said as she continued to stumble along after him.
He stopped and looked at her, and Stormy’s cheeks flushed at what he must be thinking. He had to know she’d just walked away from someone’s bed. He must be wondering which guy it had been. Maybe he was worried about it being one of his kin. For all she knew, Green Eyes was related to Joseph. The man had sported a really nice boat that was docked on the Anderson pier.
“I’m Joseph Anderson, by the way,” he said, releasing his protective grip on her hand. It seemed as though he expected her to now introduce herself. Something she absolutely didn’t want to do.
“It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Anderson. As I said, I’m doing just fine, so I’ll be on my way,” she said as she retreated. The first thing she did was remove her shoes and grip them tightly in one hand.
“Where’s your car parked, Miss . . . ?” He trailed off, obviously waiting for her to give her name again.
“I rode here with a friend. I’ve called a cab, and it’s picking me up at the gate, so I’d best hurry,” she said. She hadn’t yet called the damned cab, but she was planning to as soon as she escaped from the intimidating Anderson patriarch.
“Then I’ll walk you to the gate,” Joseph said.
This walk of shame just kept on getting worse and worse. Now the man was going to catch her in a lie. Her humiliation was complete.
“Well, I haven’t actually called the cab yet. I was just getting ready to when I ran into you. So I had best get going and do that. By the time I get to the gate, the cab will be waiting for me,” she said with a sheepish laugh.
“Nonsense, young lady. If you were a guest at the party, I insist on having my driver give you a ride home,” Joseph said, once again tugging on her arm.
Stormy gasped. “I couldn’t have you do that.”
“I won’t take no for an answer.”
And that was why the man always got his way, she decided.
Within a minute, a black car pulled up; a man emerged from the driver’s side and opened the back door for her. Stormy found herself practically pushed into the car, and the only relief she felt was when the car pulled away from the Anderson mansion.
She didn’t look back to see Joseph reach down and pick up the locket that had dropped from her neck, or the smile he wore as he held it.
All fairy tales must come to an end, and when she got home and walked inside, she was cruelly thrust back into the real world—her carriage was now a pumpkin again, and her glass slipper left behind . . .
CHAPTER FIVE
Six Years Later
Sitting on the deck of his favorite café in the old neighborhood, Sherman Armstrong leaned back as another roar of thunder sounded high in the sky. He knew he was the very image of the old grandfather resting in his favorite chair while children ran by wondering about him.
He liked that mystery about himself.
He was a stout man, though his body was a bit older and weaker now, and he was forced to use a cane while walking. He had a square jaw, bit too big of a nose, and had sometimes been called Dumbo because of the size of his ears. Yet one thing that was fully working, and sharp as ever, were his bright blue eyes, which showed an inextinguishable youthfulness and a lot of hard-learned wisdom. Life had taught him things that no one and nothing could ever take away.
Though Sherman was an incredibly wealthy man, he didn’t have a large wardrobe. He sat on the café’s deck wearing his favorite blue cardigan. Tomorrow he’d most likely wear the brown one. Those were the only colors he ever selected for his warm, wool sweaters. Of course, he did have a variety of plaid shirts that he mixed with the cardigans. Today he was wearing a green-and-blue one under his sweater.
He’d lived in the house across the street, where apartments now stood, when he was a young buck right out of the military in the sixties. This neighborhood was worn down and sometimes unsafe, but it was where he’d made a life for himself and for his beautiful bride, Betty Sue.
It was the place where he’d raised his family, and it was the place he would continue to visit until he took his last breath. His family had told him it was time to move on, but it never would be—not in his opinion.
“Do you think this storm will hang around for a while?” Sherman asked Joseph. He and Joseph Anderson had been friends since they were in grade school . . . and Sherman valued that friendship more than all the money in his bank account.
“I sure hope so,” Joseph told him.
“Then maybe I will accept your offer for brunch after we finish our coffee. You have a hell of a view from your place,” Sherman said with a laugh.
“That is very true, my friend. Say the word, and my driver will get us out of here,” Joseph told him. Katherine wasn’t allowing him to drive in bad weather anymore, not with his need for speed, and the accident that had almost cost him his life.
Looking across the street, he caught a glimpse of Stormy Halifax as she struggled to push open the doors to the apartment complex she lived in—the wind fighting her each step of the way. He had begun to stand to assist her when she managed to push through to the sidewalk.
She didn’t pause, looking to be in a hurry as she splashed her nice clean work clothes while rushing through the puddles of water to get to her waiting taxi.
Sitting back down, Sherman smiled and lifted his hand. A frown marred his forehead when she didn’t look over. He watched her bend to open the car door, but suddenly she popped back up and then smiled and waved.
It was a tradition. She’d been living across the street for three years, and if she came down early enough before she had to rush off to work, she would dash over and chat with him for a few minutes. But even if she couldn’t do that, she always left him with a wave and a smile.
Sherman had grown very fond of the young woman. As she pulled away, a sad smile flitted across his lips. The young girl was trying to make it on her own, but sometimes a person was stronger not weaker for asking for a helping hand in times of need. She was a stubborn one, though, and wouldn’t allow him to help her.
Well, he thought, as her cab drove down the street on her way to a job that wouldn’t take her anywhere, he was going to help her—one way or another. His spreading smile took years away from his wrinkled face. It was a good thing Joseph was with him to brainstorm.
“She’s such a fine young woman. I’ve been trying to help her for quite some time, but she’s determined to do everything on her own. That girl isn’t someone who even cares to utter the word defeat,” Sherman told Joseph.
“She looks familiar,” Joseph said as he stared after her, searching his memory. “What’s her story?”
“Her parents were missionaries for a lot of years and then working-class folk, didn’t have a whole lot. Her father died when she was twenty, and it was real hard on her. Her mom was sick so she dropped out of school to take care of her, and then her mother passed last year. She hasn’t managed to get back on her feet quite yet. But she will. She was taught young not to complain in life, and she lives by that motto,” Sherman said.
“There’s nothing wrong with asking for help once in a while,” Joseph said as the two of them watched the cab disappear. “But I’ve always admired a woman with a strong backbone. That’s the kind of girl who won’t be led easily astray.”
“Yes, I agree with you there,” Sherman said. “I was sort of hoping to set her up with one of my nephews, but I can’t seem to get them in the same room with her. She’s always so busy . . .”
“Well, my dear friend, you should have come to me sooner,” Joseph boomed with a laugh, making Sherman, who was used to his boisterous friend, jump.
“Why is that, Joseph?”
“Because if there’s one thing I know about, it’s matchmaking,” Joseph said as he sat back. He pulled out two deliciously scented cigars. “We’ll need these. This will take a while.”
“I sure won’t turn one down,” Sherman said, accepting the fragrant tobacco.
The two men lit up and then leaned back as the thunder moved further north but still gave them a good show to behold.
“Tell me more about this girl,” Joseph said.
“Stormy is kind. I visit my old friend Penny in those apartments quite often, and if Stormy sees that I’m carrying anything, she’ll insist on helping me. And on days like this, when the weather takes a turn for the worse, I guarantee you, she’ll swing by after work to make sure everything is okay with Penny, who isn’t remembering things so easily these days. Stormy’s become like a granddaughter to me and a few other people in that old apartment building, and I just adore her beautiful heart and her sweet words. I miss her when a few days pass that I don’t get to chat,” Sherman said.
“It sounds like she’s made of the good stuff,” Joseph said, disappointed he didn’t have any sons left to set her up with. Of course, he loved Sherman’s nephews like his own, so he’d be happy to see this Stormy with one of Sherman’s boys.
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