Bare Assets

by M. L. Stephens

  Without a word, he leaned forward, took the glass from her hand and placed both their drinks on the coffee table.

  "What are you doing?"

  Turning back to her, he lifted his brow. "I'm going to kiss you." Sliding down the edge of the sofa until their hips were side by side, he cupped her left cheek in one hand and lowered his lips until they were brushing against hers.

  Her heart worked overtime to keep up with her increasing blood pressure as he lingered just a feather's width from her mouth. "Do you want me to kiss you?" he asked against her parted lips.

  "Yes." Though she didn't recognize the whispered voice that escaped, she did recognize the fire he had sparked between her legs and she was ready for that fire to be fully ignited into the burning firestorm lurking beneath her womanly surface.

  "Yes, what?" he taunted.

  "Be warned. I don't beg," she said with false conviction. In truth, her mind was screaming, Please, kiss me. Kiss me right the fuck now, dammit.

  Angie didn't offer up the words he wanted, so he moved away from her mouth and glided his tongue down the curve of her long neck, causing a moan to escape.

  "I don't want you to beg. I want you to ask. Ask me, Angela."

  She remained silent and unbreakable. As a strong, stubborn woman who didn't bow to the whims of men, she refused to beg for anything. And she would never ask a man to kiss her. It went against her nature. Hell, it went against her southern pride.

  Softly nuzzling her neck, Dean suckled the flesh between his teeth. Her body responded of its own according as deep seeded pride battled against newly discovered desires. Wrapping a hand behind his neck, she ran fingers through his wavy hair and caved in to the lust boiling in her veins. "Dean?" she whispered.

  "Yes?" he murmured into her ear before lifting his face from the creamy smoothness of her neck. His lust filled eyes pierced her to the core and had their way with her. She wanted him; scratch that. She needed him. She needed a man to dominate her until she felt like the woman she was meant to be, the woman she was before becoming jaded and hard. She needed someone who could see beyond the badass shell of a woman with the tramp stamp tattoo, because beneath that rough exterior was a broken woman who spilled tears of youthful regret onto her pillow at night. Angie didn't know if he was the man who could correct the wrongs which had been done to her, but for now he would do.

  "I don't ask. I take," she rebelled. Without giving him a chance to push her away, she claimed his mouth. Pushing her tongue between his lips she devoured the sweet taste of his wine.

  As her fingers slipped from his neck to his shirt, she not so skillfully worked at unbuttoning them. As she clumsily manhandled the buttons, his hands slid beneath her tee until landing on the perky mounds beneath.

  Even in her state of wanton lust, the smell of cigarette smoke and alcohol stopped her dead in her tracks. Before she could go any further, it was crucial that she take a shower. She didn't exactly work in the perfume department at the mall, nor did she have a desk job. She was the owner of a club and was surrounded by smoke and liquor every day. Though she had become accustomed to the smell, it couldn't be attractive to someone who wasn’t. Pushing her hands against his chest, until she got his attention, she said, "Wait."

  "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have," he apologized, removing his hands from her shirt.

  With the seductive smile of a stripper, she lifted a brow and gave a rebuttal. "Oh yes, yes you should have. I need a shower first, though. I smell like an ashtray and stale alcohol."

  "I wasn't going to say anything," he teased as she stood.

  "If the roles were reversed, I would have said something," she retorted with a wrinkled nose.

  "Then you obviously aren't as attracted to yourself as I am."

  That earned a gleeful chuckle. "Come on," she said, tugging him up from the sofa. "You can shower with me."

  "That's the best idea we've had all morning," he joked. Glancing up at the clock, she was relieved to learn that it was only 7 AM. There was still plenty of time to get this denim-wearing devil out of his jeans.

  Chapter 5

  Death by carnal pleasure would be one hell of a way to go. ~ Angela

  "And this is where the magic happens." Waving him into the room, she chuckled and flipped on the light. It had been a while since she'd brought a man into her private space.

  "Nice digs," he said appreciatively, glancing around the room. "Do you do your own decorating?"

  "Yes. Is it that bad?"

  "Considering that I'm also a minimalist, it's great. Not much on personal photos though, huh?"

  "No." Her answer was short and curt. She knew that if they didn't change the subject, this night would be over sooner than she wanted. The past was the past and she would prefer to leave it there. Besides, she wanted him in her bed, not standing in her room discussing her choice of decor.

  Slipping his arms around her waist from behind, he pulled her against him and exhaled. "How about that shower?" He had waited two long years for this. The waiting part was over with.

  Turning to face him, she lifted to her toes, planted a quick kiss to his lips and began unbuttoning the few buttons left. Walking backwards to the bathroom, she gently tugged him along while slowly revealing the skin beneath the fabric. Though she had outwardly rejected him for years, Angie had secretly envisioned him naked dozens of times. Mostly when she was forced to please herself with one of the adult toys she kept in the nightstand. But this was real. He was real, and she wanted this to happen before she changed her mind. Worst case scenario, she would lose a customer. Best case scenario, she would gain a lover who also happened to be a paying customer at her bar.

  Once they reached the bathroom, she opened the glass doors to the tile shower and turned the double shower heads on. Not wanting to waste any more time getting back to the business at hand, she turned her attention back to the devastatingly handsome man standing next to her. Her main focus was making sure Dean Murray lost his clothes, but he soon made it obvious that he had other plans.

  With her back to the open shower, he ravished her lips. Remembering that she had been barefoot while sitting on the couch, he reached behind her to test the water's temperature and kicked off his shoes. Guiding her backwards, Dean maneuvered the two of them inside the shower until they were standing fully clothed beneath the spray of water. Releasing her from the kiss, he pressed a finger to her lips to quiet any argument she was prepared to give him. In the two years he had been watching her, he had determined that even though she had been a former stripper and was now a strip club owner, she was tense and strict when it came to rules of propriety. With Angie, everything had to be contained inside of a neat and tidy package that she controlled. Not tonight. Not on his watch. For two years he had waited, wanting to be the man to show her how to let loose and live. There was more to life than work and rules. He steadfastly believed that he was the man to teach her that.

  Quickly reaching down to remove his socks, he tossed them to the corner of the shower. Locking eyes with her, he skillfully and alluringly unfastened the last two buttons on his own shirt while rotating his hips in an effortless motion of roguish seduction. He was pleased when she followed suit and began to lift her shirt over her head.

  The chemistry flowing between the two of them was electric and she feared that if the charge intensified by one degree, they would both be electrocuted. As they stripped for one another, her inner wildcat came alive and she liked it…a lot.

  As he lowered the shirt down his arms, her eyes landed on the cut of his abs. She allowed them to linger, not wanting to let go of the visual candy being indulged upon her. As they continued to tease one another, she felt the prudish woman with impossible statutes and detached social expectations disappear, leaving behind a feminine feline eager to be reminded of her forgotten sensuality. With a flick of the wrist, the hungry lioness tossed her shirt to the corner.

  Discarding his own shirt to the same corner, he seductively began to unfasten the button on
his jeans. She reached down to do the same, but he shook his head from side to side, stopping her.

  In awe of the moment, she did as he commanded.

  Stepping back, Dean rolled his hips in suggestive deliberate motions and slowly pushed the denim down, until his manly length popped free from its prison.

  Oh, my God. He is the devil, she marveled as he continued to impress.

  Standing in front of her, stark naked in all his glory while gyrating to the sound of water falling on their bodies and splashing down against the tile, he considered the fact that he hadn't been this aroused in years. Not since Aubrey. He never thought it possible to find another woman who excited him as much, until now.

  With a quick flick of the wrist, the dark denim that had adorned his body just moments before was added to the ever growing heap of clothing in the corner. In a swift motion, he tucked his fingers into the waist band of her jeans and pulled her tightly against his him. "Strip for me," he ordered. His commanding tone rolled down her spine and entered her from behind, directing her body to do more than tease.

  "I don't do that anymore," she nervously admitted. "I haven't danced in years."

  "I'm not a client," he reminded. "I'm a VIP.

  The sensuality of the water running down her partially clothed body, combined with the strip tease he'd so freely given, was enough to persuade her to give him the private showing of a lifetime. He was, after all, what he’d said. Dean Murray was her VIP.

  Turning away from him so that he had full view of her back, Angie lifted her face to the shower head and welcomed the warmth of the water running down the front of her body. Reaching behind her back, she skillfully unhooked the lavender bra she wore while swaying to the imaginary song filling her mind. Her hips joined in the rhythm. Twisting her shoulders in the opposite direction of her hips, she allowed the shower's music to possess her body. Once she had released the last hook, she cast a tantalizing look over her shoulder. Noticing that his eyes were heavy with desire, she teased him using her most seductive smile. Crossing her arms over her chest, she held the bra against her breasts and leisurely swiveled around to face the man who was slowly unraveling the many layers of Angie.

  With practiced patience and a will to please, she gazed into his eyes, rolled her hips, tucked a finger underneath the bra and held it out to him. Accepting his prize, Dean briefly held it to his lips before tossing it into the heap behind him.

  Raising her arms above her head, she closed her eyes, moved her body and let the beat of the running water carry her away on a tidal wave of self-acceptance. This was who she was. Stripping was a part of her and she had been ashamed to tell her family and friends this truth about herself. Sure, they knew she owned the strip club, but she had never told them how she had earned her way into it. If they truly cared they would have accepted it, but she had never given them the chance to know. I love who I am and who I have become, she thought. Admitting that, while standing in the shower with a practical stranger was bitter sweet, but she did not regret it for one partially naked minute.

  The dance continued until her jeans were discarded and the only thing left covering her body was the water rolling down her skin. With eyes still shut against reality, she reached for the soap and continued to move her body, washing away the denial as she sent it swirling down the drain of forgiveness. Once her body was proverbially cleansed of regret and self-denial, she washed her short hair in much the same manner. After she had rinsed away her sins, she opened her eyes. A slow smile curled the corner of her mouth.

  Leaning against the shower wall, with his arms crossed over his chest, watching her every move, Dean smiled with admiration at the woman who had captivated him from the first time he had laid eyes upon her.

  "I'm so sorry," she stuttered. "I guess I got lost in the moment." This is embarrassing, she thought. There's a sexy, naked man in my shower and I wander into la-la land. Something must be seriously wrong with me.

  "Don't apologize," he said. The huskiness of his words touched a special place in her heart and kindly enveloped a part of her wounded past in acceptance. "You were absolutely divine." Moving towards her, he wrapped his arms around her waist and kissed her with understanding fervor.

  Her back gently hit the wall as their tongues tangoed to the tempo of two souls colliding with universal need.

  Her mind turned to mush as he cupped her mounds and kneaded them with his strong, soft hands. As he lightly pinched and pulled at her nipples, she sharply inhaled. At that moment it was decided. If Angela could choose a way to die, death by carnal pleasures would be one hell of a way to go.

  Lowering a hand, he seductively glided fingertips down her slick body until connecting with the spot between her legs, the spot that was calling out to him, that he hoped was aching for his touch. Teasing to please, he circled the sensitive spot at the tip of her entrance. Once he felt her quiver with need, he slid his fingers inside, causing a moan to escape and vibrate on her lips. When her back arched, beseeching him for more, he obliged her reticent plea by adding another finger.

  In her experience, considerate foreplay and one night stands didn't go hand in hand. His attentiveness was unexpected and only enhanced her desire. His methodical exploration of her body had her tinkering on the edges of abandonment. "Dean," she murmured. Rather than answer verbally, he continued to please her with each selfless stroke of his fingers.

  "Spread your legs for me, Angela," he ordered. The masculine way he skillfully commanded her, combined with the sound of her name as it rolled off his lips, caused her aching core to tighten around his fingers. Wanting the blissful pleasure to continue, she obeyed.

  As a reward for her submission, he lowered himself to his knees until he was knelt before her trimmed goodness. With the palm of his hand rubbing the wet mound, he peered up at her. "Wider."

  She succumbed to his authority yet again, only this time she draped one leg over his shoulder and gently tugged his head to her center. A primal growl emanated from his chest as his mouth descended into the depths of her desire. With a flick of his tongue and assiduous nibbles of his teeth, Dean suckled the sweet bud at her entrance. The groans emanating from her chest matched his own as he pressed his fingers back into her depths to relieve the lustful desire burning within.

  Not only could the man kiss, he was the master of oral gratification. Angela's head fell back as he continued to gain control over each fiber of her being. "Fuck…me." The words of ecstasy rolled off of her tongue without permission.

  "Not yet," he said. Though her words had been spilled out of heated passion, he wanted to continue his sexual dominance over her. She wanted to be gently controlled and he wanted to give her exactly what she longed for. He had ignited a blaze within her that had apparently lain dormant for some time and he wanted to be the man to contain the firestorm burning beneath her surface. The thought of burying himself inside of her sent a shiver of lascivious craving coursing through his veins, but this was about her. Not him. He wanted this beautiful woman to rediscover the pleasures she had obviously denied herself for far too long.

  Her eyes rolled back as she gave herself completely over to him. Moans of longing echoed inside the shower, only to be dampened by the steam filling the space around them. Her hands pulled against his hair as his mouth carried her to the edges of ecstasy and pleaded for her to leap.

  Sensing the nearness of her release, his final command rumbled out of his throat, "Let it go, Angela. Let me taste you."

  Her body quivered under his direction as she released the liquid decadence he had so expertly created. With affection, Dean continued to suckle her until she was fully spent. With a long deliberate lick of her feminine passage, her body jerked one last time, sending a wave of chills down his spine. Knowing that he had satisfied her was erotically rewarding.

  Lifting himself from his knees, he made his way back up her body. He crushed his mouth to hers so she could taste what he had tasted. The rapturous moan she released into his mouth warmed him throug
h and through. His hand curved around her neck as he continued to share the fruit of his bounty. Releasing her from the kiss, he leaned his forehead against hers and exhaled. "I've discovered true ambrosia," he whispered.

  "The nectar of the gods?" she giggled. "I seriously doubt that."

  "I've tasted it. Now you've tasted it and there's no denying it. Haven't you heard the old saying? The proof is in the pudding? Well, my dear, your pudding is proof. Ambrosia does exist." Leaning back, he cupped her face and gazed into her bottomless hazel eyes. "Your sweetness has quenched my thirst and left its satisfying taste upon my lips."

  Reaching down between them, she wrapped her fingers around the length of his swollen shaft. Bouncing her eyebrows, she smirked. "It's my turn."

  A wicked glimmer flashed in his eyes as she slid to her knees to return the favor.

  As her supple lips encased him in the balminess of their moisture, she stroked him with both mouth and hand. Her hazel eyes carefully studied his face as he bowed his head and watched her orally make love to him.

  "God, you are beautiful," he moaned, while reaching down to caress her cheek. Lowering her eyes, she continued to work him, stroking and pulling until his breathing became rapid and he tightened in her mouth.

  His rapid breathing warned her of his impending explosion, but rather than stopping, she drove him deeper into her mouth. His head fell back with the realization that she wanted to taste him as he had tasted her. The intimacy of the act sent him careening over the cliff of sanity. With a euphoric groan of surrender, he released inside of her mouth.

  As his breathing returned to normal, she ran her hands up his body until she stood. Locking a hand behind his head, she pulled his mouth to hers, sharing with him as he had shared with her.