Steel

by Jeanne St. James

  “You weren’t in here.”

  “But I am now. You need to leave so I can change.”

  She stood in the doorway behind his chair and he hadn’t turned to look at her.

  He could have just as easily come downstairs and sat by the pool to watch her while she swam, but instead, he waited for her in her room. And if she asked for a reason why, he’d probably give her some bullshit story.

  “What if the stalker had shown up while I was in the pool and you were up here? Would you have jumped off the balcony to save me?”

  “No. I would have shot his ass.”

  She had not seen him carry a gun yet. In fact, she had found that curious for a bodyguard. “You have a gun?”

  “I have a couple guns.”

  “And you’re a good shot?”

  “I do all right.”

  A former Marine probably did more than all right.

  The air between them suddenly turned thick. Now that she was done swimming, he had no reason to remain on her balcony, but he wasn’t moving.

  But then, neither was she.

  She should go take a shower, close and lock the bathroom door, and maybe when she was done, he’d be gone.

  “Kat.” Just her name and the way he said it in his deep, rough voice had her clutching the door frame. Her name on his lips held promises of what he could and would do to her.

  If she let him.

  Her heart began to thump.

  “Kat,” he repeated, still in a low voice, but more firmly.

  “Yeah?” she breathed.

  “Go to the railing, grab it with both hands and face the pool.”

  He still hadn’t looked at her, still hadn’t moved.

  “Kat.”

  She closed her eyes at the way he said her name again. “Yes?” barely came out of her mouth because she’d stopped breathing.

  “Do what I said or tell me to leave.”

  It was on the tip of her tongue to say, “Leave.” Her brain was telling her to demand he leave, for her not to obey.

  But it was the heat that swirled through her, the excitement of the unknown, the power behind his voice that propelled her forward. Like her feet had a mind of their own. She rounded his chair, not looking at him.

  Afraid to look at him.

  And she was not afraid of men.

  She stopped in front of the rail, staring down at it and the pool just beyond.

  She expected for him to give her the order again, but he didn’t.

  The balcony remained silent except for the pounding of her heart, which had moved from her chest into her ears.

  She lifted her hands slowly until she held them right above the top wrought iron rail. She spread her fingers out, seeing them shake.

  She could still walk away. Tell him to leave. She didn’t have to do anything he said.

  When she finally curled them around the warm metal, the breath rushed out of her.

  The tremble from her hands worked its way up her arms and soon her whole body was buzzing. Her pussy clenched involuntarily, her breasts ached, her nipples drew tight.

  She jerked as she heard him surge from the chair. She closed her eyes and waited.

  Her whole body was a mess of nerves, each one crackling and popping as he approached. She was the prey tied to a trap like a lure, awaiting the predator.

  His much bigger hands curled around the railing alongside hers. Close but not touching. Then the heat of his body against hers sent a blaze swirling through her own, which landed in her core as it clenched.

  He wasn’t even touching her yet and it was the most erotic thing ever.

  Or it was until his warm breath hit her skin at the edge of her damp hair when he whispered, “Kat.”

  She jumped as his nose slid up the side of her neck slowly. His one hand leaving the railing and planting firmly against her stomach, fingers wide, holding her there.

  Goosebumps exploded over her body as he ran his nose back down, the touch so light. And then his tongue replaced it as he took another trip up and back down.

  Then his lips.

  And, holy shit, she might just orgasm with what he was doing.

  The hand spread over her belly slid lower, the tips of a couple long fingers worming their way past the elastic band of the swimsuit bottoms. But he didn’t press further.

  No, instead he continued his onslaught of his mouth along her neck. And now shoulders. Occasionally scraping his teeth against her skin, nipping her. Nothing painful. Light touches, teasing bites.

  She rocked back against him.

  “Keep your hands on the railing,” his order came out rough, sending another shockwave through her.

  She curled her fingers tighter around the metal to keep herself there.

  The fingers on her belly slid lower. But not low enough.

  She bit back a groan.

  He removed his left hand from the railing and planted it on her belly above his right hand. But unlike the other one which went lower, this one slid upward. His fingers traced the bottom curves of her breasts covered in the Lycra bathing suit. He slid his hand higher, avoiding her nipples that ached for his touch and curled around the front of her throat, tipping her head back against his chest.

  His right hand moved even lower, almost to the edge of the small patch of hair she kept there.

  “Steel.” She barely got the whisper out.

  “Yeah, baby?” he asked in her ear. “What do you need?”

  He knew what she needed. He just wanted her to ask for it.

  No. Beg for it.

  She refused to beg.

  Warm breath slid over the shell of her ear when he encouraged her to, “Purr for me, Kitty Kat.”

  When a little growl slid up her throat, she swallowed it back down. She closed her eyes, fighting every reaction her body betrayed her with. Every reaction that proved to him that he had been right. She wanted this, too. The wetness between her legs, the pebbling of her nipples, her breathing becoming more shallow and rapid.

  But she couldn’t contain it. She couldn’t hold it back. The noise that finally slid up her throat, the noise he could feel under his palm held there. The noise he could hear because his cheek was pressed to the side of her head. The noise she let go because his finger—one single finger—moved down far enough to part that patch of hair and dip into her wetness.

  One finger. That was all it took for her to fall apart. To lose her mind. To abandon all control.

  To experience what she never had before.

  “Kat, relax. You’re wound tight.”

  Yes, she was tightly wound because she was trying not to shatter, to let go of that rail, to turn to him and demand that he fuck her. To just hand him the control and let him do to her what he will.

  To trust him completely.

  To show her everything she’d never had for all these years. Everything she denied herself because she didn’t think it was necessary.

  He was proving her wrong.

  With a single finger.

  A finger that stroked her gently but had done nothing further than that.

  She twisted her head until her face was hidden against his neck. “Please.”

  “Please what, Kitty Kat?”

  She didn’t know what. She didn’t know what she needed from him. He was the one who needed to know. He was the one who had to show her what she needed.

  He was the one...

  He was the one who finally slid his finger inside her, quickly followed by a second one.

  Her back arched, her mouth opened, and she panted against the skin of his neck. His erection pressed into her back, but his breathing remained steady as he worked his fingers in and out of her.

  When he added his thumb to her clit, she struggled to capture the whimper before it escaped, but she failed.

  She was so slick. She could not only feel it but hear how wet she was as he continued to play with her.

  She released a little gasp when he rolled her nipple through the damp fabric.


  His words rumbled from deep within his chest as he murmured, “That’s it, Kitty Kat, show me how much you want this.”

  She did. She wanted this. She never wanted this from anyone before. But then...

  “You’re so fucking wet,” he said into her ear. “Tell me what you want, Kat. I need to hear it.”

  He expected her to not only know, but to talk? Now?

  “Do you want to come?”

  She tried to push out a “yes,” but her throat convulsed instead.

  And then everything began to convulse. Her inner muscles clenched tightly around his fingers and her orgasm exploded from her center and radiated out.

  She had no idea it could be that intense. That powerful.

  Her hips were no longer her own as they moved with his fingers, riding those waves.

  He was talking low, his voice tense as her climax was the longest she’d ever experienced, but she had no idea what those words were.

  His thumb brushing one last time against her clit made her jerk, because now it was too sensitive.

  She’d never felt this weak before, like all her bones had disintegrated within her body. But Steel held her up and against him.

  She realized she still held the top rail in a death grip. “Can I let go?”

  “You already did,” came his rumble.

  She pried her stiff fingers from the metal and began to pull away from him, but he held her tighter.

  “Are you going to leave me hanging, Kat?” He shifted his hips just enough to make his point.

  Was she?

  Steel wasn’t sure what to think. The woman ran cold one minute, hot the next. And she was blazing when he brought her to orgasm.

  But now he had a problem. What he would consider a big problem.

  And if Kat decided his problem wasn’t hers, then he’d have no choice but to accept that. But, for fuck’s sake, he hoped she really didn’t just leave him hanging.

  The whole time he had watched her swim had been like foreplay. Watching her smoothly move through the water, her muscles defined but still feminine. Her arm and back muscles flexing with each stroke. Her thighs and calves working with each kick.

  He had been tempted to go down to her. Instead, he’d stayed upstairs and moved to her balcony where he’d have a good view.

  And now, she stood within his arms, tense once again.

  When he had told her to go to the rail and grab it, it had been a test. If she had told him to fuck off, then he knew she either wasn’t interested at all or simply wasn’t ready. But when she moved to the rail and wrapped her fingers around it until her knuckles turned white, he knew she did want it. She was interested, but something was holding her back.

  She was either denying herself for some reason or was... afraid?

  Was it possible?

  Was she scared of sex, or him? Or maybe it was sex with him.

  Or did she have a man already? Was he trying to get in somewhere where he shouldn’t?

  He hadn’t gotten any indication of it, but Kat hadn’t been the most open. “Is someone already in there, Kat?”

  “What?”

  “Am I trying to get in where someone already is? Do you belong to someone? Am I stepping on someone’s territory?”

  “If all that misogynistic bullshit means you’re asking if I have a boyfriend, I don’t.”

  Well, thank fuck for that. “Is it me, then? Because right now, I want to toss you over my fucking shoulder, take you inside and make you come harder than you just did out here on the balcony. So, is it me?” Her delayed answer had him releasing her and stepping back. “It’s me.”

  Fuck. He’d been pushing her and—

  “No,” she sighed and shook her head, “it’s me.”

  He frowned. “Yeah, you don’t want me.”

  “It’s not you,” she said.

  Then it hit him. “You don’t like sex.” But that couldn’t be true, her response to him touching her in no way proved that. The woman, once she relaxed, had totally let go. And who the fuck didn’t like sex?

  Was that even a thing?

  She opened her mouth and avoided his eyes. “I’m not good at it.”

  “Not good at what?” What wasn’t she good at? Not being able to separate her feelings from sex? Not being able just to have a one-night stand or just a sexual relationship with someone?

  “Sex.”

  He pinned his lips together and schooled his face. She wasn’t fucking with him. No, she was being genuine and thought she wasn’t good at sex. But from what he’d just saw, heard and felt from her was someone who was responsive. And being responsive was a huge part of being good at sex.

  “Hold up. Did someone tell you that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Who?”

  It took her a long time to answer. Too long. “A guy in high school.”

  “A guy in high school told you you sucked at sex.” He tried not to snort because she was being totally fucking serious. A guy in high school had no clue what good sex was. At that age, there was only one reason to fuck. To get off. And they usually didn’t care if the girl did. So, if someone told her that...

  “Yes. I think he was pretending to like me just so...”

  Just so he could get down her pants. Steel knew that trick. He knew plenty of guys who “liked” a girl only to get laid and then once he got the girl, he moved on.

  It was an asshole move.

  And he might have been one of those assholes.

  “It was one asshole. What about the rest?”

  Did the woman just blush? Did Kat, the fighter, just fucking blush?

  Oh fuck. “He was your first?”

  She spun away from him. “I don’t want to talk about this.” But as she pushed past him to go inside, he grabbed her bicep to stop her and moved to stand in front of her.

  Tucking a finger under her chin, he lifted it. She still wouldn’t look at him, but the heat was now gone from her cheeks. In fact, she looked pissed.

  “Kat—”

  She jerked her arm out of his grip and he let her go. But she didn’t move away. Instead, she finally met his eyes and with a stubborn tilt of her head she stated, “He wasn’t my first. He was my only.”

  Steel blinked. Then his eyes slid to the side as he ran those words once more through his brain. He had to have heard her wrong.

  There was no way this woman standing before him—who might not be thirty yet, but close enough—only had sex with some asshole teenage boy once and never had it again.

  No. Fucking. Way.

  That just did not compute in his head.

  “He was the only one you ever had sex with?”

  She didn’t answer.

  He tried again. “He took your virginity and then didn’t want anything to do with you?”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  Oh yes the fuck it did. It bothered her. He could hear it in her voice no matter how hard she tried to hide it. And not only that, it mattered enough for her not to try having it with anyone else.

  He hoped the motherfucker who did that to Kat eventually had come down with a bad case of the crabs.

  “He told the rest of the seniors I was easy, so I spent the rest of my high school years fighting them off.”

  “Fighting,” he repeated in a whisper.

  “Yes, fighting them off. They thought I was easy and would put out. They didn’t care that he told them I was a ‘horrible lay.’”

  Of course, they fucking didn’t. They were just looking for a warm hole to bust a nut into.

  “How old were you?”

  Her jaw got even tighter. “Does it matter?”

  “Yes.” Yes, it fucking did. Because he needed to know how many years she had to fight off those assholes. How many years she had to protect herself against them probably getting handsy and not taking no for an answer.

  Jesus fuck. He’d pushed her, too.

  No wonder she bit his lip.

  “I was a freshman.”

>   Steel’s brain went back in time to figure out how old she had been as a freshman. He couldn’t even remember how old he’d been. Fourteen? Fifteen?

  Too fucking young.

  “But you’ve dated, right?” It still blew his mind she hadn’t found anyone else to attempt it with again.

  “I’ve tried.”

  “And no one...”

  “No one.”

  Damn. “He was a boy; you need a man.”

  “And you think you’ll convince me I’ll be good at sex or enjoy it because you’re a man?”

  “I’ve gotten no complaints.”

  She threw her hands up and went inside. He followed her in, closing the door behind him.

  His eyes slid to the condoms he had thrown on her nightstand earlier. However, right now, he needed the patience of a saint.

  Unfortunately, he didn’t have the patience of a saint. But he would do his goddamn best.

  “Are you telling me you didn’t enjoy what happened on that balcony? Because if you say no, you’re lying. You just need someone to show you how good sex can be. And by the way you responded out there, Kat...”

  Even though her back was to him, he knew the exact moment she spotted the handful of condoms next to the bed. She went over to them and once there, turned, holding one up between her fingers.

  He shrugged. “Like you said, I’m an asshole. I had plans. I thought you’d be interested. I didn’t know the reasons for your mixed signals, now I do. So, I was wrong...” Fuck, he hoped he wasn’t wrong.

  She tossed the condom back on the nightstand. “You weren’t wrong. And yes, whatever you did to me out there,” her eyes slid to the balcony doors and held there for a long moment, then slid back to him. “I liked it.”

  No shit. He wanted to point out that she more than “liked” it. But he also wasn’t stupid.

  “And... I want you to do it again.”

  “Now?” He winced when his voice cracked in the middle of that question. He cleared his throat with a low cough.

  “I’m not... I don’t know...”

  This strong woman was once again unsure of herself. He fucking hated that. He went over to her and, as he approached, her face tilted up until they were toe to toe. He ran his thumb along her jawline.