The Pleasure Contract

by Caitlin Crews

  He was sure of it.

  “Tell me, then,” she invited him. Her voice was husky. “If you know.”

  “I have a better idea,” Lachlan said. And later, maybe, he would remember this moment and worry about how far he was straying from the usual script. But right now, all he could see was Bristol. And all he could think about was getting a taste of her the way he’d wanted to do since he’d seen that video. “Why don’t I show you?”

  CHAPTER THREE

  BRISTOL FELT AS if she was in a dream.

  Though her dreams were never this exciting. She dreamed of showing up naked to her seminars. Of looking through her notes only to discover she could no longer read them. Sometimes she had very long dreams that seemed to involve a lot of travel between never-quite-identified points.

  This felt a lot more like the sex dreams she’d always wished she had.

  Except it was real.

  Lachlan had her hand in his, and that was extraordinary all on its own. His hand was big and hard, and held hers with a matter-of-fact possessiveness that made her entire body feel as if it was melting.

  Especially between her legs.

  He ushered her through the restaurant again, but this time he didn’t take her down the grand steel stairs. Instead, he took a different door from the second floor, leading her past the busy kitchen and then out a back entrance she hadn’t known existed. There were steps and an awning, indicating that this wasn’t simply the route out back for emptying the garbage and so on. It served as a subtle reminder that Lachlan Drummond wasn’t like other people—not even the people who ate at a swanky place like this and delivered their status vehicles to the waiting valet, an unusual luxury in New York City.

  Of course he used private entrances, Bristol thought. Because if he didn’t, the paparazzi would catch him far more often than they did. She tried to imagine the measures she would have to take if she was as recognizable as he was—as famous whether she liked it or not. She probably wouldn’t walk to the university. She probably wouldn’t be able to teach, for that matter, if anyone could turn up. She would need significantly more security, which meant she wouldn’t be able to live in her current apartment.

  It had never occurred to her to wonder if the wildly famous congregated to the same secure, discreet places because those places protected them. She’d never given much thought to the idea that the wildly famous were...regular people with regular concerns, but with the money to handle those concerns differently.

  Like Lachlan, who nodded at the man beneath the awning whose sole purpose appeared to be standing guard over a sports car out in the alley. Bristol knew less than nothing about sports cars of any variety, but even she could see quite clearly that whatever make and model this one was, it was exquisite beyond the telling of it. If only because the man who’d been guarding it eyed it as if it was the Holy Grail before he nodded at Lachlan and walked back into the building.

  It gleamed in the lights that lit the way over the stairs, spilling over the vehicle’s sleek, low lines and sultry curves.

  Sultry curves? she asked herself. You really do have sex on the brain.

  But maybe that was because the back door of the fancy restaurant slammed shut. And that left only her and Lachlan, standing alone in the dark night settling around them. A kind of foreboding—or longing—danced through her then, and Bristol had to move. Or the electricity would fry her where she stood, she was sure of it.

  She tugged her hand from his and moved down the stairs, trying to hide the clamoring inside her. It was so loud. It was shivery and bright and she had to figure out how to breathe through it.

  Then she thought of the feel of his hand in hers and had to start all over again.

  “Where are you taking me?” she asked when she’d cleared the stairs.

  The streets seemed far away. Light and noise streaking past, all that life and commotion, while here in the alley they were practically cocooned in the kind of hush that shouldn’t have been possible in New York. But brick and concrete rose high all around, hemming them in.

  It should have felt claustrophobic. But instead, Bristol thought it felt like an embrace.

  Her eyes adjusted to the darker stretch of alley, away from the lighted stairs—and just in time, because Lachlan was moving toward her, a look on his face that made everything inside her go still.

  He backed her across the width of the alley, smiling down at her when her back came up hard against the far wall.

  “Careful,” he said, a hint of laughter in his voice.

  But Bristol didn’t want to be careful. Or she couldn’t remember how.

  Because the only thing she could seem to focus on was that wildfire heat that raced through her. It seemed to start in his bright blue gaze, then hum its way into her, making her flush all over. Making her bones ache.

  Making her pussy melt.

  And she had said, repeatedly, that she didn’t know why she’d gone to that absurd panel today. Or why on earth she’d come to this dinner. But suddenly, when his hands found the wall on either side of her head and he leaned in, it all became clear.

  It was this.

  His heat. The stark desire on his face and the lure of his mouth, hovering close. The sudden, greedy punch of a need so hot inside her, it almost hurt.

  “Where would you like me to take you, Bristol?” he asked, his voice a low rumble in the dark.

  An invitation.

  Worse, a temptation.

  Bristol had spent so many years catering to her mind. Following each and every thought or connection down whatever rabbit hole she found, disappearing into her research, and rarely bothering to come up for air. If she thought about her body at all, it was an afterthought. As far as she’d been concerned, for years, it was a machine she kept fueled so she could keep on thinking.

  Yet right here, in the back alley behind a Manhattan restaurant, she was suddenly aware of every square inch of that body and she no longer felt much like a machine.

  She was too aware of her skin. Her muscles. And all the places where she was nothing at all but throbbing, delirious need.

  Maybe her sister had been right all along. She really did need to get out more.

  Where would you like me to take you? he’d asked.

  Her body was taking over and it had a whole host of ideas.

  She tipped her head back, wondering how she could feel as if she was falling from a great height when she could feel the wall at her back. “Maybe I’ll be the one to take you, Lachlan. If you can handle that.”

  “Don’t worry, Bristol,” he said, his voice a dark delight. “I can handle you.”

  And if she already felt like she was falling, why not jump? She arched herself toward him, pushing up on her toes to find his mouth.

  It felt like ignition.

  A burst of a dark, intense heat. He met her with the same greed, his hard mouth claiming hers.

  Claiming her.

  Her heart thudded so hard she pressed herself closer to him, so if it burst straight out from her chest he could contain it.

  If anything could contain it.

  Because the way his palm, big and hard, gripped the back of her head to guide her mouth where he wanted it made her think it was already too late.

  That heat only deepened as he tasted her, roaring into flame and fire.

  His kiss was a wild thing, demanding and just this side of rough.

  Bristol loved it.

  He kissed her the way she’d always wanted to be kissed. He consumed her. He devoured her and it made her clit throb to think that this man who could kiss anyone was kissing her at all, much less like this.

  Like he might die if he didn’t.

  She let her hands roam over that celebrated chest of his, astonished that he felt even better than he looked. Everything about Lachlan Drummond, who she could admit she�
�d expected to find sad and faintly creepy, was better.

  He was dressed like half of Wall Street, his suit tailored to adore him, but Bristol found that irritating. She wanted to feel him. She wanted to imprint his flesh into her skin so she would carry this with her, always. It took her a moment, but she found her way beneath the soft shirt he wore.

  But the reward was that ridged glory of an abdomen. She could feel that V-shaped indentation that she knew led straight to that hard, hot cock pressed against her belly. She wanted to rub herself against it, to get him between her legs, but for the moment she was consumed with running her palms over his six-pack, then higher to find the heavy planes of his pectoral muscles.

  And still Lachlan kissed her and kissed her, as if he couldn’t decide if he was eating her alive or if he was letting her do the honors.

  Bristol couldn’t decide either. She forgot where she was. She forgot who she was.

  Sensation was everything. His hard temptation of a mouth, the press of his gorgeous body, the wall at her back. And all of that bright-hot need that kept pouring through her so she was nothing more than heavy breasts and nipples pinched tight, and the greedy, hungry pussy that pulsed between her legs.

  She couldn’t remember wanting anything as much as she wanted this man.

  And somehow, he knew.

  Lachlan’s free hand moved to trace down the line of her back, but then he found her ass, gripping her in a way that tugged at her clit and made everything hotter. And then he kept moving, reaching down until he could pull her dress up. And up.

  She entertained the faintest thought that she should object when the cool spring air found the bare skin of her thighs. But she didn’t want to. She didn’t want anything to stop what was happening, because she wasn’t sure she’d live through the disappointment if they stopped. If they didn’t dive straight into the heart of this fire.

  Then it was hard to care about anything at all because his hand found the mound of her pussy and held her there, just for a moment, while she shuddered.

  And shuddered.

  Before she could think about that, or analyze anything the way she liked to do, he found his way beneath the panties she wore. Then he stroked his way into her slippery heat.

  His kiss grew harder, slicker, as he found his way inside her.

  With the heel of his palm against her clit, he experimented with one long, broad finger, then two.

  Bristol bucked against his hand while he drank every beautiful sound she made from her mouth. He ground down harder against her clit, then laughed a bit darkly when she tipped her head back and came.

  Hard.

  “More,” she panted at him. At the alley around them. At New York. The world. “I want more.”

  Lachlan hauled her against him, drawing her legs around his waist and then holding her against the brick wall with little more than his chest pressed against her. She had to cling to his shoulders and she did, lost in that searing blue gaze of his as he reached between them.

  She was panting, aftershocks still jolting through her. Possibly having a heart attack, but she didn’t care. She wanted him too much. She’d just come and still, she wanted him with a desperation that should have scared her.

  But he was pulling out his cock and swiftly sheathing it with the condom she hadn’t even seen him pull out of thin air, and that was better than cardiac arrest. Even if it might cause it.

  Then he was supporting her ass again with those big, hard hands, still pressing her against the wall.

  “Move your panties out of the way for me,” he ordered her, his voice another dark lick of sensation.

  And Bristol would have said that she wasn’t much for taking orders, but maybe she’d never heard one issued like this. Scratchy and sure, while she clung to him, her legs wrapped around him so she was wide open and ready.

  God, she was ready.

  She wanted him inside her. Now. She couldn’t think of anything she wanted more than to obey him. Bristol reached down and grabbed the shiny fabric of her own panties, stretching them out to the side.

  Then she had to bite her lip as he fit the broad, thick head of his cock to her entrance.

  He was big. So big she thought she might come again at the thought. Deliciously hard and thick, and better still, a little bit ruthless.

  “It’s been a long time,” she heard herself say as she felt his sleek muscles coil, telling her he was about to slam himself home.

  And she didn’t have words to describe the look that flashed between them then. She felt it. It was like a shock wave, possessive and bright.

  It almost made her come again.

  His hand returned to the wall beside her head. Lachlan pushed his way inside her, waited for her to accommodate him, then thrust a little more.

  So slow it became an ache. A blistering, beautiful ache.

  There was nothing but the stretch and the slide. The sound of her harsh breathing and his. In the distance, she could hear traffic, reminding her that they were outside. That anyone could happen by. For all she knew, they already had an audience from the buildings up above them.

  She felt herself get wetter and hotter at the thought.

  Slowly, almost mercilessly, he filled her.

  And when Lachlan was finally deep inside, she thought that she might burst. She didn’t want mercy. She didn’t want anything but more.

  It was the way he looked at her. It was the feel of him inside her, almost too much, so she could hardly breathe. So every breath she did take was filled with him. He was this close to triggering another orgasm.

  But she wanted more, damn it. And she said so.

  “Hold on,” he advised her.

  And then he began to fuck her.

  Sure and steady, just this side of rough.

  And Bristol was coming again, or still.

  It was an exquisite, prolonged shattering. It was falling from on high, over and over and over. It was everything she’d ever wanted—and far more than she’d imagined.

  He was so good it was almost scary.

  She held on, the wild madness of it pounding through her again and again. His cock gave her no quarter, allowed no retreat. He held her away from the wall, demonstrating far more intellectual capacity than she could access—because she didn’t care if the friction scraped her raw.

  Some part of her wanted that.

  Because she still wanted more. The tighter she gripped him with her thighs, with her ankles locked behind him, and the more he battered her, the harder she came.

  Over and over again.

  Until she thought maybe she’d fallen off the side of the world after all.

  And she could feel it when, at last, he joined her, making a fierce groaning sound deep against her neck.

  While she shattered all around him one final time.

  She was aware of it when he pulled out, then made sure she could hold herself there against the wall. Even if she had to grip the bricks, hard, to stay upright.

  Her dress fell back into place, which was good, because she understood dimly that she really ought to cover herself up in public. But she couldn’t seem to do anything but cling to the building behind her and try to hold on to the world.

  And what was left of her in the aftermath.

  She was dimly aware of Lachlan stripping off the condom and tossing it in one of the garbage cans across the way. Surely the tawdry practicalities should have slapped her back down to earth. Reminded her who she was—and that she didn’t do things like this.

  But when Lachlan turned back toward her, Bristol felt her breath catch all over again.

  He looked faintly disheveled and she had to clench down on that throbbing sensation inside her, which almost tipped her straight back over the edge.

  How could he be even hotter after she’d sampled him? Now that he was less tailored and s
omehow far more dangerous? His shirt was untucked, his jacket no longer sitting quite so nicely on those shoulders of his, and he made her feel completely out of control.

  More than that, she liked it.

  He looked at her, his gaze dark and commanding, and appreciative, almost. As if she was a dessert and he wanted to indulge himself all over again.

  This man made Bristol want things she’d never wanted in her life.

  To be taken like this, instead of forced to endure endless theoretical musings about the biology of desire. To be wanted, desperately, without it having the faintest thing to do with her academic achievements or her intellect.

  Sure, he wanted cocktail conversation. She understood that. But if she wasn’t mistaken, Bristol thought what Lachlan Drummond really wanted was to fuck.

  And because he was famous and chased after wherever he went, he needed to go to great lengths to figure out how to get what he wanted without, as Indy had said, trawling around in bars.

  Even the panel made more sense to her now, still tender from the way he’d pounded them both into oblivion. It wasn’t like Lachlan Drummond could reveal himself on a dating app. He couldn’t ask for alley sex. It would end up on the front page of every tabloid on the planet.

  Then again, maybe her sudden rush of understanding had more to do with all the orgasms she’d had.

  But even thinking and analyzing connected to that blistering heat that still flared between them, it seemed. It was so bright it almost seemed like daylight, lighting her up there in a dark alley in the middle of the loud and careless city.

  “Well?”

  And Bristol couldn’t tell if that was a taunt or an invitation. Or some combination of the two.

  Maybe she should have cared about that. But she didn’t.

  “Well, what?” She tilted her head to one side and found herself smiling. “Are you looking for a performance review?”

  And she was finding herself growing more and more addicted to that laugh of his, because he seemed so astonished that it was happening.