Buy Me, Love (The One and Only Book 1)

by Lauren Milson

  “Hm,” he says thoughtfully with a sexy little smirk on his face. “That’s one way to spill your guts.”

  It’s too bad I only have this man for one night. Something tells me I’m going to remember this night for a very, very long time.

  Max flicks over to the channel where you can rent movies and we settle in for the flick. As he reaches over to turn the lamp off on the nightstand between us, he puts a finger into his collar to loosen his tie. Oh dear. I bite down on my bottom lip as the light flickers off next to us and we’re left with nothing but the cool blue light from the TV.

  I feel my panties dampen when he lets out a stretching groan. I washed them in the sink and then dried them with the hair dryer. Whole lot of good that did.

  “Thanks, Mr. Armstrong,” I say to him in a small voice without looking over at him.

  “Please, Kit,” he replies in his dark, husky voice. “Call me Maxwell.”

  I let out a long, deep breath. The movie starts, opening on an SUV driving down a long highway, a dotted line of trees rolling by. The occupants of the car are quizzing each other on what’s in the CD player. I’ve seen this one before. The road becomes more narrow, the shots become tighter, and a sense of doom starts to cage in around the family on the screen. I feel my eyelids slip closed and that’s when the first jump-scare hits, jolting me in the throat.

  “Holy shit,” I yell, letting out a fit of laughter, my eyelids flying open. I was right in that stage between asleep and awake where the slightest thing can make you pop straight up in bed. “I think my soul just got sucked out of my body.”

  Maxwell shoots me a stern look and grabs the remote to hit pause.

  “Too scary for you?”

  “No, no,” I tell him. “I like it.”

  I bite my lip and watch as his eyes change, new darkness casting over them.

  He gives me a stern look and pats the bed next to him. I bite my lower lip and raise an eyebrow at him.

  “Get the hell over here, girl,” he says. I grin at him, grab my foil container and scramble over, tucking myself against his chest as his arm wraps around my shoulder. Oh god, the way I slid down next to him so easily, so naturally, has goosebumps plumping up over my skin. I put my hand down on his chest tentatively and he folds a hand over mine. The swirling heat inside me settles behind my belly button as he rubs one thumb against my shoulder.

  We fit so well together.

  It’s going to be a good night. I just wish I had him for more than one.

  I’m woken up suddenly from a dream. I open my eyes and stretch my arms over my head, feeling relaxation settle into my limbs. I glance over at the TV to discover that the movie’s over and Maxwell is next to me on the bed, ankles crossed, hands stamped behind his head. I smile over at him and he sends a glance my way.

  “You fell asleep,” Max says, flicking the TV off.

  “I was dreaming,” I say sleepily, letting my eyelids flutter closed and putting my forearm over my face. “It was one of those dreams that feels so real. It felt like I could do anything. I could grow wings and fly if I wanted to. All I’d have to do is wish it and it’d happen.”

  “What was the dream about?”

  I tuck a hand under my head and prop myself up, still half-asleep.

  “It was warm. I think I was running? Maybe I was running toward the ocean, or maybe I was running away from it. And the sand kept rushing away from my feet every time I looked down. But it was so detailed. It was like I could feel every single grain of sand between my toes, every molecule in the water in the waves.”

  Max chuckles next to me.

  “Sounds nice,” he remarks. “After that movie, I think I’m going to have nightmares for a week.”

  “Ha,” I say. “You? You could take on any horror movie villain, any day of the week. And if you can’t take him on alone, I’ll help you.”

  “You with a chainsaw,” he chuckles. “I’d like to see that.”

  With courage from some deep, untapped well inside me, I slide over to him and nestle myself against his chest, but that’s as far as I can make myself go. We’ve already cuddled up together, so without exploring any uncharted territory, I take this as a small victory. I let my eyelids flutter closed again and let out a long breath. Maxwell slips his fingers against my scalp and laces his fingers through my hair, letting the long strands fall against my shoulder.

  I let out a long, involuntary purr as I nestle my face against his shirt, slipping one bent knee over his. I can almost press my middle up against his side. I think I might be able to do it and still claim plausible deniably should he ask me why the hell I’m wiggling up against him. I search out the friction, the contact, but my body isn’t giving it to me, no matter how much I want it. His hand dips into my hair again, and again he slips his fingers through. My long, golden locks move slowly in the darkness.

  “I’ve always liked having my hair played with,” I say up at him. He shifts his gaze to meet mine, and he pulls me up, my face closer to his, his hand on the small of my back. He holds me close to him and slides one of my legs across his lap.

  “That feels better, doesn’t it?” he says, whispering against the line of my hair.

  “Yes,” I breathe, “a lot better.”

  “Kit,” he rasps, sliding his fingers against my scalp, “I can’t do this. Not tonight. Not right now.”

  “Why not?” I whisper up to him.

  I feel his lips come down on my hairline in torture that isn’t quite a kiss, his fingers still playing through my hair. Every time his fingers come to the end, he alternates between tugging and just letting them slip away.

  That is, until he slides one hand down the curve of my bottom, gripping my skin, and tipping my chin up to brush his lips against mine.

  8

  Maxwell

  I’ve wanted to taste Kit for six months, and now that I have, she’s sweeter than I ever imagined.

  I lick my tongue against hers, making her lips open up for me softly as a purr rumbles through her chest. She shifts her hips as I take a fist-full of her ass in my hand, digging my fingers into her. I think I might bruise her if I’m not careful, but I don’t think I’m going to be able to stop myself.

  “You keep rubbing against me like that, you’re going to get something I didn’t think I’d be able to give you tonight, darling.” I take my tongue away from hers and whisper against her wet lips. She knots her fingers against my shirt and tries to pull me down to kiss her again, but I back off. “I know what you’re thinking, Kit, and I can’t give it to you. Not yet.”

  “Do I look like the kind of girl who can have her thoughts read? The kind of girl to let her intentions be known?” She gazes up at me, slowly inching her fingers toward the waist of her pants. Her gaze lands on mine as she teases her fingers inside the band. Beneath her shirt her round breasts are tipped with tiny nipples stiffened into peaks. “Do I look like a girl who would let on so easily what she’s asking for? Do I look like a girl who’s done this before, Mr. Armstrong?”

  My cock stiffens and a groan breaks inside my chest. Christ, if I put my hands on this girl, she’s going to have my cock stuffed up so deep inside her when I come it’s going to take a week for me to fully pull myself out of her.

  “Told you not to say that.” My country boy is showing. “Told you not to call me Mr. Armstrong.”

  “Isn’t that you name?” Her voice lilts in the air and teases me as she slides away to stand next to the bed. Her delicate fingers slip down her belly to the edge of her pants, and she pushes them to the floor, revealing herself in just panties and her tank-top. I gut-check myself when a stray thought flitters through my mind like a speck of dust.

  Mine.

  I run my tongue over my top lip. She’s going to taste good and she’s going to taste pink, and there’s nothing I can do now than let this happen if she pushes. Her black silk thong is right there for me to rip off her with my teeth if she lets me, and I know she has heaven hidden beneath it. There’s alread
y a damp spot there, and it’s growing.

  She whispers. “Mr. Armstrong.”

  “Don’t like you calling me that, Kit. I told you. It makes me feel like I’m in charge of you or something.”

  The excitement in her eyes is evident and it’s making me drown. God help me. I reach over to lace my hand through her hair and grab the base of her neck to guide her into my lap, slide her against me, and put my hands on the thick globes of her bottom.

  “Now who doesn’t think her thoughts can be read?” I graze my hands up the sides of her thighs. A breath pools inside her chest and then breaks.

  “If you think you can read my thoughts, tell me what I’m thinking right now.”

  Can I tell her she’s one ass-wiggle away from me ripping these panties off her?

  “I haven’t been able to tell what you’re thinking all night, darling, but I do know things about you.”

  “Like what,” she whispers, her fingers tracing the buttons on my shirt. Her eyes stay on mine.

  “You were lying when you said this was your first date,” I tell her, “and I don’t like being lied to. Now why would you go and make me feel special when I’m not special at all?”

  Her pupils blow and she bites her lower lip, pushes herself forward.

  “You are special,” she breaths, “and this is my first date. And you made it perfect.”

  I graze my hands down her legs and give her thighs a squeeze. I look down between us, at the silk covering her. My god, I want to lick every part of her body that’s covered up with that wet silk.

  “Don’t lie,” I warn her, slipping a finger under her chin, “you’re an easy tell.”

  “I’ve never been called easy before, Mr. Armstrong, but I could prove you wrong,” she breathes. Her fingers rake up from my shirt to my neck, and I swear there’s a nervous twitch to her movements. I can clear that all right up.

  “If you want me to think you aren’t easy, then you tell me to stop when you’re good and ready.” My voice comes out as a low rumble that I can see in her eyes when I pull her ass toward me, tilt my hips up, and capture her lips with mine.

  I get a better taste of her this time, and I was right. She tastes soft, nice, and pink, with a thread of excitement running through her that I don’t quite understand. Her hips rock up and down in my lap as she whimpers into my mouth as I deepen the kiss. I reach inside her mouth to lick up all of her sweet young pinkness, and I groan when I take a slow swipe at the elastic of her silk panties with one finger.

  “Ohhh, yes.” She lights up like a tiny bulb on a string so I take my finger away because I want to make her beg for what she wants. I think she’ll look extra pretty soaking through her panties while she begs me to take her.

  “I didn’t think I could give you want you want tonight, but now I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop,” I whisper against her ear. The words come from a deep well I’ve never tapped before.

  “What do you think I want?” She shudders against my chest. Grazing my fingertips up and down her thighs, I feel her melt by the second like sweet ice cream. Her head stays locked into the crook of my shoulder and I nip and nuzzle along the sweet skin of her neck.

  “I think you like testing me, but I think deep down you know you want to be my one and only bad girl.”

  “One and only, huh?” She breathes in the air between us. “To be your one and only would mean this really is my first date, wouldn’t it?”

  “I can pretend I’m the only man that’s had you, but I think I might die from happiness as a result,” I tell her. “And I might have to pretend you’ll never look at another man again, too.”

  “I’m fairly certain I would be able to manage that, Mr. Armstrong.”

  I stiffen between us and feel a dime of come dribble out of me. It’s all I can do to not throw her down on this bed and slice right through her sexy little body.

  “Why do you keep calling me that when I’ve told you not to?”

  “Maybe I like testing you.” She grasps my tie and glides her fingers down it again. I can feel it in my spine. I’m hard beneath her splayed legs and my brain is firing off a series of warning signs. Warning signs that I’ll scare her right the hell away when she sees what I have planned for her.

  She knows telling me this is her first date is causing a unique kind of torture inside me. And if she’s openly defying me in favor of testing my patience, if she knows calling me Mr. Armstrong is making me lose my mind, then I can say with almost goddamn one-hundred percent certainty that she is not as innocent and sweet as she claims to be.

  “You can push me all you want, but you should know you’re fixing for a punishment. If you think you’re going to make me lose control over myself, you have another thing coming.”

  “Punishment?” Her blue eyes sparkle. Her voice comes out in a tiny, whispered whine. “What kind of punishment?”

  Her fingers knot up in the fabric of my shirt as I bring my lips to her ear.

  “Punishment for thinking you can pretend that sweet pussy isn’t mine,” I rasp, making her chest tremble. I pull her shirt over her head, leaving her in just her thong, legs spread wide on my lap. Her breasts are soft, round, and the most magnificent things I’ve ever seen. I take both in my hands, making one soft, long stroke up one with my tongue.

  “Oh god Maxwell,” she whines, her chin tipping up as her fingers tangle in my hair.

  I press my lips to hers and tilt my neck so I can taste her lips again, play, experiment with her soft little mouth while I pinch and twist her buds softly. Her hips roll forward and I feel her hands grazing down my stomach to the edge of my pants. Her fingers curl against the waist and she presses her breasts up against my chest, forcing my hands to go elsewhere.

  “You are mine.” I growl against her lips and grab her hips roughly, dragging her body up and down my thickness.

  “Yours?” she pants against my lips.

  “It mean that if I have you, I own you. You want me to show you what that means, don’t you, girl? I didn’t want it this way, but now I can’t help it. And once I have you, you’re mine. Mine, you got it? But I need to tell you something first.”

  She bites her lower lip and shakes her head, whispering against my lips. “Whatever it is, it can wait.”

  “It can’t wait,” I rasp against her lips. “Kit, it can’t wait.”

  “Is it something that changes who you are? Something that would make me think differently of you? Or is it just a little detail that we can iron out later?”

  He pauses for a moment before speaking again.

  “I don’t know, Kit. I think it’s a detail. Nothing could change how I feel about you right now. I don’t think it would change how you feel toward me, but I want to know for sure. I need to know, Kit. I need to know you’re in this.”

  “I trust you, Max. And sometimes that means knowing when something is right, even if you don’t have all the information. Unless what you want to tell me has to do with you having another woman somewhere out there or a felony record, then I want it to wait. Right now I just want you. Please.”

  With a fierce growl I crush my lips on hers again and kiss her deeply, lacing my tongue with hers. She’s right, it can wait. It’s a detail we can iron out later.

  Everything besides our feelings right now are details. Just details.

  She follows my moves and lets me be in charge, but she challenges me a little bit too. Moving her tongue away from mine when I give it to her, pressing her lips to me a little bit harder when I pull back. She tries to take more than I want to give her, but I’m in control.

  I pull my lips away from hers and tip her chin up to inspect her eyes. Pupils still large and staring at me like the barrels of two guns with glitter around them, I watch her gaze flitter through their cloud of lust.

  She is mine. Everything else is just details.

  9

  Kit

  I throw my arms around Max’s neck and crush my lips to his.

  Whatever he needs to
tell me, it can wait. What can’t wait?

  Me. I can’t wait another minute.

  He puts his hands on the small of my back, pulling me into him. He nips and nuzzles against every inch of my neck, making me coo and whimper in his arms. I really am like putty in his hands. There’s something odd about him, like he’s keeping a secret, and I love it. The way he talks, the way he growls at me with this hunger in his eyes.

  All of my senses are off right now, and my guard is dropping along with my ability to see straight, hear straight, think straight. I inhale sharply when he puts his hands on the small of my waist and glides them around me like he did in the car.

  I should tell him. I should tell him. I should tell him right now that this really is my first date, painfully is my first date.

  He presses his lips to mine again, a low, rumbling growl inching through him like ivy growing on the side of a building. It’s so slow. It feels unfair.

  “Do you like pretending I’m in charge of you, Kit?” he whispers against my ear and every word makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. “You like to pretend I own you?”

  My breath catches in the back of my throat, sending a tickle through my body. I’m so hot all over that I can hardly stand it anymore.

  “You are in charge of me, Mr. Armstrong,” I whisper as he glides one hand up the back of my neck. He lifts me with his hips, one hand planted at the base of my skull. Slowly, he puts his hips down again and brings me along with him for the ride, bumping up against me a few times. I think I could come just from this friction.

  “Tell me how I’m in charge,” he growls into my ear. “Tell me how I’m making you feel right now.”

  There it is. He bumps his hips up and I flood myself and feel tingly all over. He wraps his big hands around my waist, looking down at me before moving forward to push his tongue past my lips and explore my mouth. I swear I can feel his tongue gliding up my seam and parting me open as if by magic.