by Harper Sloan
This kind of body consuming desire is new to me. Sure, there have been plenty of women in my thirty-five years, but none that makes me feel this way. And there damn sure hasn’t been one that has been able to walk away from me. Coop might annoy the shit out of me on a good day, but I have never considered ways to murder my friend before.
“You got it bad.”
“You have no idea.” I look over at Locke, noticing his eyes aren’t watching Coop and his partner, but are looking across the room at the table Emmy is sitting at while rocking a sleeping Nate.
“Gonna do anything about it?” He finally asks, after a few minutes of silence.
“Yeah. Are you?” Clearly not expecting my question in return, he slowly turns his head and looks over at me. His dark eyes give nothing away.
“No.” And with that, he walks away, rejoining his date. At least I’m not the only miserable bastard in the room.
After a few more songs, Coop takes his soon-to-be-ripped-from-his-arms hands off of her body. She looks around the room before walking over to the bar, the bar that I haven’t left in almost an hour. Her eyes never leave mine. Her hips moving seductively to the music make my mouth water, and my pants tighten.
I will have her.
She walks up to the bar and asks for something. I couldn’t tell you what, because when she leans over the edge, her perfect ass is on display for my hungry eyes. My mouth waters and my fingertips tingle. Just imagining my fingers digging in hard and pulling her roughly towards my straining cock causes my already strung tight body to weep. I must have let out a groan because her head snaps up and looks me over.
“Want to take a picture?” Her question has me slowly, oh so slowly, bringing my eyes up to hers. She doesn’t look pissed, which is a plus. She looks like she is enjoying this slow fucking torture.
“Dance with me.” I look at her, just taking her in and wait for her to answer, a little shocked that the request even came out of my mouth. I hate dancing, but if it gets my body closer to hers, I will do anything.
“Just dance?”
“For now.” Taking her hand and leaving our drinks on the bar, I lead her to the middle of the room, pulling her close and crushing her body to mine.
Having her in my arms feels like coming home. I am not one to believe in all that love at first sight bullshit, but even as cynical as I am, I can recognize something bigger than lust at work. My body wants her; that is no secret, but the level of want is borderline craving. I need her. Needing someone is not something I am used to. No, I am used to being needed . . . something this woman clearly doesn’t want.
“What’s your name, Beauty?” I ask her again. I use the rhythm of the song to rock our hips together softly. Her arms dangle over my shoulders, and if I bend over slightly, our lips will be even. My fingertips are just barely ghosting over the swell of her ass. My cock is begging me to pull her flush, to feel her body against mine.
She ignores me and smiles coyly. She might be able to play off this aloof behavior as indifference to our connection, but her eyes can’t hold back. Her eyes are telling me everything I need to know. She might not have made up her mind as to what she wants but I can tell deep down she wants to find a dark room.
“Come on Beauty, tell me,” I plead. I’m not past it at this point and fuck if she wants me to call her Timmy and bark like a dog, I will.
She doesn’t answer, but her hands push into my hair and grab it in a firm hold, pulling the strands tightly. She comes off her heels and brings her mouth up to my ear. “What’s it matter?”
Normally I would hate games, but with her, it feels like foreplay. “Babe, I need to know what to call you when I slide my dick into your body.” Her gasp in my ear causes my already painfully hard dick to throb. She pulls back and looks at me; her wide blue eyes are sparkling with curiosity.
“You said just a dance.” Like I need reminding.
“Didn’t say we would be dancing with our clothes on.” We lock eyes for a few more seconds before I hear the song change and the soulful sounds of Sam Grow’s ‘Lay You Down’ fill my ears. If this isn’t a sign, then I don’t know what is. I pull her close to my body, her tits crush against my chest, and my dick pushes into her stomach. My leg pushes between hers and I begin a slow, sex-filled rhythm with our hips. Bending down so that my lips are a breath away from her ear, I softly sing the words, making sure that every single ounce of promise I possess is present in the lyrics.
Wrapping one arm around her slim waist, I trail the other slowly up her spine before cradling her head lightly, turning it slightly to give me better access.
I can feel her breath coming rapidly against my cheek, and where my thumb rests against her neck, her pulse is pounding in frantic succession.
She wants this.
We continue our slow grind to the lyrics that feel like they were made for our dance. There is no doubt in my mind that if our clothes were absent, I would be deep inside her body.
CHAPTER 9
Melissa
I might have been able to hold my reserve about staying away from this man, until he takes me in his arms and basically blows my mind with just a dance. I am willing to sign my soul over at this point. I can feel him pressing against my stomach . . . every rock solid inch. Each time he rotates his hips with the beat of the song, a little more wetness seeps from my body. I am primed and ready to go, all because of this man.
When the song ends, he pulls back again and looks into my eyes. “Tell me.”
“Melissa,” I squeak. Yes . . . I squeak. The games are over now; this is too raw.
“Alright, Melissa,” he croons; my name curling around his tongue sends tingles across every inch of skin. “Let’s start over, hmm?”
I stare at this gorgeous man and nod my head like an idiot.
“Name’s Greg Cage. Most of my friends call me Greg, some call me Cage, but you can call me whatever you want.”
Really? Is he for real right now?
“Does that line ever work for you? And why would I call you Cage? Sounds like something you stuff a rabid animal in.” His eyes widen slightly before his rich laughter rings out around me. I’m sure I look like a crazy woman with the smile that takes over my face. Even I can tell it’s a bit too happy. Good Lord, he really is good looking.
“Damn babe, you’re either a lesbian or you just like chomping my balls.” He shakes his head, still letting out a few soft manly laughs. “Beauty, you can call me whatever you want as long as you’re screaming it.”
Before I can even process his actions, he bends down and gives me a quick but deep kiss. When he pulls back and rests his forehead against mine, I know I might as well have just signed on the dotted line. The look he gives me is so full of promise that if I had been wearing underwear, they would have blown up, completely exploded, right from my skin.
“Come home with me.” I blurt.
He seems to ponder that for a minute before a feral smile graces his lips. He knows he won this round. I might be giving in to the sparks flying around us, but this was just going to be sex. Nothing more.
“Tell you what, let me finish up around here, and then we can go back to my place.”
“I’m not riding with you. I want my car there, just in case,” I mumble the end of that, but he doesn’t miss it. His eyes flash and his smile slips slightly.
Way to go Melissa, might as well take out an ad that lists all the issues you have.
“That’s fine, but I can assure you that you won’t want to leave for a long fucking while.”
“Just sex?” I ask. No reason to beat around the bush now.
“For now.” He takes my hand in his and leads me off the dance floor and back to the bar where we left our drinks. “Here’s to living,” he says and holds his beer up to click with my wine glass.
Seems like an odd thing to toast to when you just agreed to go off with a complete stranger and play hide the sausage. The more I think about it though, the more it honestly makes sense. I made a p
romise, to my sister that I would never stop living. Of course, she didn’t know about this promise, but the day I made that promise to her, whispering the words to the cold earth, I felt a weight lift off my shoulders.
Well sister dear, if this isn’t living, then I don’t know what is.
“To living,” I echo back with a smile before taking a sip.
* * *
It has been an hour since I essentially agreed to a night of unlimited possibilities. I see Greg floating around the room, stopping to spend time with the bride as well as the rest of the men in their immediate group. He seems to be aware of my every movement. I move to speak with another person, and his eyes are always burning into my skin. When my eyes meet his, it is pure fire. I could feel his gaze caressing every inch of my skin and it was slowly, agonizingly driving me out of my mind.
I want him.
“I know that look.” Dee says, coming to rest at the table that Emmy and I have been sitting at for the last few minutes.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“My ass you don’t,” she laughs. “That look you keep sending G is hot enough to make me start panting.”
“Oh, really? You wouldn’t happen to know anything about heated looks across the room, would you?” Emmy cuts in. Her tone actually shocks me. In all the times I have been around her, she has been nothing but sweet and quiet.
“What the hell, Em?” What the hell indeed.
“Look, Dee, you know I love you, but please take my advice, Beck wants you, and you keep playing games. What are you going to do one day when you change YOUR mind and want what he has been offering for almost two years and he isn’t offering it anymore?”
“It’s not that easy, Em.” Dee rests her head against my shoulder and lets out a ragged breath, “It’s just not that easy.”
I look up and meet Emmy’s eyes across the table, noting that her usually sweet and serine expression is hard and cold.
“It is that easy. You want him, he wants you, but you are too busy trying to push him away to give him the chance he deserves. I would love to be in your shoes. Have the man I want, want me back.” She slams her glass down on the table, rattling all the place settings in the process. Giving her chair a shove back, she leaves the table so quickly I’m not even sure which direction she ran off in.
“Would you like to clue me in on what just happened here?” I ask Dee with a slightly manic laugh.
“That, my dear Melissa, was me being put in my place.” She takes a long sip of her wine, slouching down in her seat and just dazing off into the crowd.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Izzy has filled me in some but not enough to pretend I know what is running through her head.
“Do you ever get so tired of putting on a mask, day in and day out? I’m so sick of putting on my mask.” Her words are slur slightly but I think I understand what she means. God, I hate drunk people.
“Don’t hide who you are, Dee. One thing I have learned is you never hide who you are. If you want something, you fight for it. When you think you have fought hard enough, fight a little more. Don’t ever let anyone or any situation make who you are.”
She looks over at me with wide eyes. Whatever I said must have hit the mark, but I honestly have no idea what she wants. I haven’t been around them enough to tell the ins and outs, but I know there is something seriously fucked up going on between her and Beck.
“Yeah,” she says with a slight wobble. “I just don’t know . . .” she trails off when we hear a commotion across the way from where we are sitting.
Over near the edge of the property, we see what looks to be Axel carrying his bride off into the darkness. The only thing you can see is his back and a laughing Izzy over his shoulder jogging off around the house. I look over at Dee and all the sadness has left her eyes. We stare at each other for a few minutes, trying to decide if we just saw the groom kidnapping his own wife, before bursting into laughter.
We have been sitting there laughing for a few minutes when I feel him. My back prickles and my skin warms. Without looking, I know that Greg Cage is standing behind me. I feel one finger brush lightly down the side of my neck before his lips ghost against the shell of my ear, “You ready?”
I gulp, wondering for a second where the hell my strength to stay strong around this man has gone. I have to keep my walls up around someone as dangerous as him.
“Sir! Yes, Sir.” I joke, giving Dee a wink before turning in my seat. When my eyes meet his, I see my joke might have missed the mark. His face is hard. His blue eyes look almost violet, and his hands clench tightly into fists. What the hell?
I stand, not wanting to be at the disadvantage . . . well, more of the disadvantage. At least with my shoes, we are almost equal. His breathing is coming in quick pants, his nostrils flaring. I walk as close as I can, toe-to-toe, my chest grazing his slightly, and give him a good hard look of my own.
“What is your problem?” I whisper. I can feel the heat off his lips so close to mine.
He is still giving me a good accessing look, but seems to make his mind up silently on the best way to proceed. “Say goodbye to Dee.”
“Goodbye to Dee,” I call over my shoulder. Her giggles reach my ears, causing me to let a few out before I school my face again. “Your turn,” I whisper.
“Gone, Dee. Don’t fucking drive.” And with that, he grabs my hand and rushes me off through the crowd, the tent, yard, and around the house. We stop in front of the drive, standing there for a few seconds. He lets go of my hand and paces a few steps in front of me before turning around and looking at me. His breathing hasn’t improved much, and a small part of me wonders if he might have asthma or some shit.
“Do you need an inhaler?” I ask.
“What the fuck?” He mumbles.
“You sound like you’re about to have an asthma attack or something. So I repeat; do you need an inhaler?”
He raises one thick brow and lets out a rough laugh. “Do I need a fucking inhaler? No, I do not need an inhaler. What I need is for you to please behave yourself in public. You can’t say shit like that and not have me wanting to rip your sexy as sin dress from your body. The next time you call me Sir, it better be when you are begging for me to let you come.” He reaches out and pulls my body forward, crushing his lips down against mine.
Jesus Christ. And I thought he had set my body on fire before. Hard, wet, and full of carnal heat, his tongue battles with my own for dominance. His hands fist my hair, and turn my head, and his body envelops mine.
He owns me with a single kiss.
For a single second, I have the nagging thought that I might just be in over my head with this man.
CHAPTER 10
Melissa
I followed the taillights of his truck through town and into a nice residential area. Far cry from my tiny shit-hole apartment. He turns his truck into the driveway and I pause for a second before pulling my piece of shit in behind him.
Well . . . this is embarrassing. I have never been one to let another person’s wealth intimidate me, but this is slightly hard to stomach. His house is large and you can tell it’s worth more than I probably can make in a lifetime. Anytime you need to drive through a guarded gate to get to your house, you know it isn’t the ghetto. Now, I live in the ghetto.
I can hear my car clanking and sputtering as I stop next to his truck. He leans against the driver’s door spinning his keys around his finger. He might look cocky to some, but to me, he looks fucking edible.
He has pulled his tie off and unbuttoned the first few buttons. His jacket is gone and he has rolled up his sleeves, revealing his strong arms. With each flick of his wrist that sends the keys spinning, you can see each and every muscle in his forearm flex. And don’t even get me started on his long, nimble fingers. I have to clench my thighs together just watching them work his keys.
We stand there, with only my car standing in between us, just taking it all in. I am still trying to figure out how the
hell I went from promising myself I wouldn’t get tangled up with this man, to seconds away from jumping on and saying yee-haw.
“Come here, Melissa.”
“No,” I respond. Why I thought it was a brilliant idea to poke the bear is beyond me, but there is something thrilling about watching him walk the line of losing control.
His keys stop spinning in a second. “Babe, come here.”
“Make me.”
Looking back, I might be able to see how it wasn’t the wisest idea of mine to try and make him snap, but I have a feeling a man like Greg Cage needs a little challenge every now and then.
“Melissa.”
“Greg.”
He moves so swiftly that he is nothing but a white flash in the darkness. Before I know it, his shoulder meets my belly, and I am being carried into the house. His hand against my ass sends shocks of desire up my spine. I can feel my pussy tighten with awareness, like even that bitch knows how close he is to her.
I push off his waist, trying to take in the house as he barrels up the stairs. Even with his quick and rushed movements, he is careful not to jar me on his shoulder. Deciding for some unknown reason that it would be fun to further test his control, I bring my hands from his belt, and take each of his firm cheeks and squeeze. Damn his ass is hard as a rock. His growl fills the silence that had only before held the heavy breathing of this insane man.
“Watch it, Melissa, you’re playing with fire.”
“Always did like it hot,” I groan, bringing one of my hands up and slapping his ass. Hard. My palm tingles and sharp stabbing pain shoots up my wrist. Fuck! I think his ass just broke my hand!
He stops dead mid-step into what I can only assume is his room. I don’t even think he is breathing. Statue still and vibrating with unleashed tension.