by Rie Warren
Why HIM?
Mistaken Identity Series
Book 1
Rie Warren
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Why Him?
Copyright © 2018 by Rie Warren
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations.
Warren, Rie.
Why Him? / Rie Warren – 1st ed
1.Contemporary Romance—Fiction. 2. Alpha Male—Fiction. 3. May December Romance—Fiction. 4. Erotica—Fiction. I. Title
ASIN:
B07DXK1TXF
www.riewarren.com
Cover Design
Rie Warren
Editing
By Gilly Wright http://www.gillywright.com
Table of Contents
Why HIM?
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
Also by Rie Warren
Keep reading for the first chapter of
Chapter One
Connect with Rie
Acknowledgments
About Rie
CHAPTER ONE
Cady
MY KNEES ALREADY SHOOK. My belly fluttered. My nipples were taut, my pussy slick. Just from walking toward that door.
I had a standing reservation for Room 27 at the Wentworth Inn in Charleston’s peninsula area.
Same hotel room.
Every Thursday.
For two solid months.
I had an assignation.
Oh my God. I’m so old I call a dirty-hot weekly hook-up an assignation.
What happened in 27 was straight-up supreme sex.
Three hours at most.
No phone numbers exchanged. Ever.
The same man.
The same room.
Once a week.
But I hadn’t thought he was a man at all the first time I saw him. I hadn’t been looking for anything either when I’d settled in at the bar that Thursday evening after a particularly grueling mediation battle.
I hadn’t expected anything when the gorgeous boy with the wicked blue eyes framed by spiky black lashes had taken the stool next to me.
I later learned he was only twenty-six to my thirty-eight, so I supposed he wasn’t exactly jailbait, but close enough.
“Hi.” He propped an elbow on the bar, swiveling toward me.
“Hello?” I’d glanced at the tall stranger, ignoring the low hum in my belly caused by his proximity.
“I’m Jude.” He’d held out a hand, and I noted his large fingers, tapered wrist, well-muscled arms revealed by his short sleeve shirt, sprinkled with a dusting of black hair.
“Ca-Catherine.” I told my first deliberate lie, watching his warm hand swallow my palm.
“Nice to meet you, Catherine.” Jude had gauged my nearly empty wine glass then made a sweeping perusal of my body before meeting my gaze with his deep indigo eyes. “Long day at work?”
“How’d you guess?”
He’d motioned toward the soft leather satchel dangling at the hook by my knees. Its sides bulged, burdened with legal documents I’d still need to go over later that night.
“Touché.” I’d tipped my glass toward him. “Are you trying to pick me up?”
“Absolutely.” Grinning, he reached for his beer.
I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he took a long drink. Afterward, he rubbed a finger across the dampness on his lips, and I heard the rasp of the short dark stubble on skin. It was a thoroughly masculine sound, one I hadn’t heard for a long time.
But that was no reason to lose my head. Over a man I’d just met. A very young man, no less.
“You do realize there are about”—I paused to take a look around at all the leggy coeds populating the bar, probably for the Thirsty Thursday drinks specials—“twenty college-aged women checking you out right now, and I’m much older than you?”
“Hadn’t noticed.” Smirk firmly in place, he directed all his attention on me.
“Let me guess. You want to buy me a drink.”
“Already did.” Dimples deepened in his cheeks when the bartender set a fresh glass of wine in front of me.
“Well played.” I’d touched the rim of the glass with a fingertip, tracing around and around before taking the stem between my fingers and slowly lifting the drink to my lips.
Just then, two big bungling oafs who looked even younger than my surprise companion had appeared beside him. “Hey, dude. Aren’t you Jude Ra—”
“Nope. Not me.” He curtly cut off the spokesman of the drunk duo.
Then he’d glared at the pair with hard eyes, his face otherwise impassive, until they shrugged and bumbled off.
His hasty reaction piqued my interest, but I’d forgotten all about the minor incident when he’d angled closer to me.
I’d felt captured in his focus, very aware of the big thigh encased in denim right next to my leg.
“I’ve been watching you, Catherine.”
“Oh really? Do I need to file a restraining order?”
His laugh rumbled out, deep and sonorous. “Promise I’m not a creeper. It’s just, a beautiful woman, sitting on her own at a bar—you said there were a bunch of girls checking me out. Well, I saw about five men come close to taking this stool beside you. Five guys who almost approached you but couldn’t quite find their balls—”
An unbidden laugh bubbled from my throat at his choice of words.
“So I’m wondering if you know you’ve got this thing. That you’re untouchable?”
My head had whipped around. “Are you suggesting I’m cold?”
“The opposite. I bet you’re hot as fuck, and I like a challenge.”
His bold words knocked the breath from my body.
His blunt approach snared my attention.
His strong bold body made my common sense momentarily backfire.
I couldn’t deny the attraction, but he was simply too young. Besides, I hadn’t been with anyone for so long I wasn’t sure I was ready.
He’d propositioned me. “You know that hotel across the road?”
“The Wentworth?”
“Why don’t you come get a room with me?”
“What? No student apartment or frat house?”
His jaw had hardened, making his face leaner, older, incredibly intense. “Let’s get one thing straight, Catherine. I’m not some green college kid. And I know exactly what to do with a woman as fine as you.”
Suddenly I saw him very, very sexually.
“If you come with me, I’ll make it worth your while.” He uttered the promise in an undertone that sent a thrill shooting up my spine.
I’d quirked an eyebrow, trying to hold onto amusement lest I get too carried away. “And how would you do that?”
“First I’d ask you to close your eyes.�
��
At the sound of his deep compelling suggestion, my lids drifted shut.
“I’d kiss your delicate chin.”
My head had notched up a little.
“Then your cheeks, softly, like a warm whisper.”
I felt him shifting closer, his male scent and body heat surging against me.
“Your neck, where your pulse has begun fluttering. I’d kiss a line up to the sensitive skin right behind your earlobe.”
Biting my lip, I held in a moan.
“And when you begged me to kiss your mouth, I’d bring my lips to the corner of yours, but I’d stop just before touching you, Catherine.”
The fantasy Jude conjured only slightly faltered when he used the fake name I’d given him.
“I’d wait until you wet your lips like you’re doing right now. Then I’d trace the same path with my tongue and, as soon as your lips parted, I’d let my tongue swirl inside.”
Breathing in shakily, I tucked my tongue behind my teeth.
“When my hand brushes down to your breast—”
My back had arched as my breath hitched, and I could almost feel his fingers coasting over my dress.
“Your nipples would already be hard, achy for me to palm them, pluck them. If I asked you to unbutton the top of your dress so I could see those sweet tits, you would. But I don’t. Not even when you sway into my touch because you want more.”
Swallowing and almost panting, I’d clutched the edge of the bar.
“I’d skim my fingers up under the hem of your dress, caressing the insides of your thighs. I’d pop one button open then another, freeing your breasts. And when my hand finally pressed against your pussy, I’d curl my other fingers inside the top of your dress, under your bra, to cup your warm, naked tit.”
Responding to his crude words, my nipples had hardened into tight buds. Heat spilled down between my thighs, thighs I clenched.
“And I know I’d find your cunt wet.”
How could this young man I’d never met before bring me to the verge of orgasm with just his low, whispered suggestions?
“I wouldn’t fuck you until I made you come on my fingers and then in my mouth, Catherine.” His voice clung closer to my ear. “Wouldn’t fuck you until you pleaded for my hard cock to fill the sucking hot wetness of your greedy pussy.”
Opening dazed eyes, I’d stepped off the stool onto wobbling legs.
But I made sure my voice hadn’t shook when I’d sauntered between his spread thighs, pressed my hand against his hard chest, and invited, “Let’s get a room.”
To say Jude had lived up to his promise was a massive understatement.
Every week he took me on a wild sexual journey that left me sore and wanting more the next day.
He was controlling.
Dominant.
Absolutely filthy.
Sometimes he stroked his cock, standing over me, until warm ropes of cum spattered across my neck and breasts. Then he’d yank my head back by my hair and feed the thick seed into my mouth on his fingers while I shook and trembled and got so hot I soaked my inner thighs.
He was wicked, raunchy, and had absolutely no sexual boundaries.
The hook-ups had started in July. Now it was September. I’d spent the week working insane hours, and all day today anticipating what indecent ideas Jude would propose tonight.
I paused for just a second outside the door of Room 27, but I needn’t have. I always made it a point to arrive before him because as much as giving up everything to him made me feverish with desire, I liked to at least pretend I had some semblance of control over our rendezvous.
Opening the door, I almost misstepped when I saw Jude was already there. He sat in the chair next to the window, the light of early evening dusting over him.
“You’re early?”
He didn’t bother to answer me.
His silence made me breathless.
His gaze roved over me as the door silently swung closed behind me.
Once again, I was ensnared by his attention.
“Would you like a glass of wine, Catherine?” He nodded toward the ice bucket and the bottle of rosado he knew I preferred, another weekly feature I usually supplied.
My taste buds swelled, not at the thought of a drink, but at the idea of having his beautiful thick cock in my mouth, thrusting against my tongue.
I stepped farther into the room, compelled by the tingling his rough voice sent down my belly to my empty pussy. My heels clicked, and Jude watched from the chair, his dark-shadowed chin propped in one hand, middle finger idly rubbing back and forth across his sculpted top lip.
The other corner of his mouth curled up, and the bulge in his jeans became more evident with every sway of my hips.
“No, Jude. I want to suck your delicious cock.”
“You wanna be my cum slut again?” His gritty voice rumbled from his broad chest.
His base words destroyed any last shred of my calm.
I stepped closer, heat pooling between my thighs. Illicit thoughts tumbled inside my head and out of my mouth. “I’ll be whatever you want. Just give me your cock. I need it.”
“Too bad. I need your dripping wet cunt on my face first.”
CHAPTER TWO
Jude
I GOT TO THE room early for a change. I wanted to throw Catherine off her game. From what I could tell about the woman, she was pretty tightly laced. Liked to have all the power. Except in bed with me.
Or on the floor.
Or against the wall.
In control, except when I was fucking her long and hard.
She was always impeccably dressed in outfits that hugged her curves without looking cheap. She had light auburn hair—usually pinned back—until I freed the wavy gold red mass, leaving it messed up and sexy. Feathery eyelashes framed her big hazel eyes, and her plump lips looked so right wrapped around my cock.
I sat in the chair by the window in Room 27 of the Wentworth Inn, already so hard for her my old jeans grew uncomfortable.
She might’ve thought she was excellent at keeping me in the dark, but I wasn’t some wet-behind-the-ears kid out for a quick fuck. I’d figured out she was clearly successful in her career. She often stowed a soft leather briefcase next to the sofa. She spoke with a light drawl and soft, drawn-out words, which tagged her as a born-and-bred Charlestonian. And sometimes she rubbed her thumb over the base of her left ring finger where an indent remained.
Either the woman was embarking on an affair with me, she was a widow, or she was divorced.
I hoped to hell she wasn’t married.
Obviously she had a huge hang-up about the age-gap thing, but I just thought it was fucking hot. She was old enough to know what she wanted, and when I gave her deepest, darkest, lustiest desires to her, she dropped all pretenses of an uptight, tightly controlled businesswoman.
She screamed. She pleaded. She ordered me to fill her over and over again until we lay in an exhausted, sweaty, wet messy heap on the bed, the floor, halfway across the sofa.
At ten minutes to seven, I heard the keycard slot into the door.
Catherine entered. Saw me. Stopped short.
A flush rose from her neck to her cheeks. She was clearly flustered. I liked it.
Catherine No Last Name insisted on rules, rules, rules:
No phone numbers exchanged.
No personal lives talked about.
No history.
No future.
Just this room, once a week.
No Strings Attached.
Now I wanted to get under her skin any way I could.
I lounged in the chair as she approached. Her heels clicked on the hardwood floors of the pricey hotel. Her dress tonight was an unusual yellow-green color that reminded me of her eyes. The material wrapped around her rich curves and hinted at some new lacy lingerie hidden beneath. Sitting still, I pretended I didn’t want to—wasn’t dying to—shred her clothes to pieces and impale her on my throbbing cock immediately.
&
nbsp; Unhesitatingly, Catherine asked to be my cum slut, and I had a pretty damn good idea she’d never unleashed the dirtiest side of herself on any other man before me.
I liked that too. Liked letting her use my body so much my cock surged fully erect, engorged with blood, but tonight I wanted her pussy all over my face.
When I stood, she didn’t move back. Her gaze lifted to mine, her lips seeking. I closed my eyes for a moment, wallowing in the scent of her perfume I could never place. The tantalizing smell was feminine and musky—a little flirty, a little heavy, like her teardrop tits that swayed along with her ass when I fucked her from behind.
Wallowing in the feel of Catherine, I kissed her uptilted chin.
She licked her lips, following the path of mine, willing me to her mouth. Her mouth I could never fucking resist.
I groaned, banding an arm around her waist to hitch her right up against me, and struck deep inside her mouth. She met the ravaging kiss with just as much ferocity, going up on tiptoes and pressing harder, tasting deeper.
Every week, all goddamn week, I waited for her. Wanted her. Worked up fantasies about her. I imagined being able to fuck her without a condom, to give her so much cum it overflowed her contracting pussy and rolled down to my balls. So I could keep fucking into her with my semen and her juice frothing between our two bodies. Someday I would. Now I edged—eking out a cum blast for an hour or so before denying myself that final release, because I refused to come unless it was with her. For her.
Catherine owned my body just as much as I did hers.
But tonight I wanted to go slow, hold back.
I wanted to wait.
I needed to possess more than her body.
Drawing back from the kiss, I nipped her bottom lip.
I spun her in my arms, smiling darkly when she teetered a little in the slim-heeled stilettoes that looked so fucking fine.
“Stay still, darlin’,” I drawled near her ear, one of the first places I told her I’d kiss.
Her neck tilted. Her breath sighed out. Her ass wiggled back for contact with my rigid dick.
“You’re such a tease,” she murmured.