Sexy Shorts
Volume 1
Kathryn Nolan
Copyright © 2018 Kathryn Nolan
All Rights Reserved
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Editing by Faith N. Erline
Cover by Kari March
120118
Contents
One Hell of a Restaurant
Wild Horse
The Hero and the Rookie
Did You Touch Yourself?
The Gift
He was Luke Skywalker (not Han Solo)
Like Thieves in the Night
Ambrose
The Wedding
Another Boring Night at the Opera
Seize the Day
She’ll always know the truth
Let It Be You
Like Petals for the Sun
Strictly Professional (Excerpt)
Author’s Note
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Hang Out With Kathryn!
Books By Kathryn
For Jodi, Joyce, and Julia, the original fans of my #SexyShorts.
Thank you for everything.
One Hell of a Restaurant
Nathan has taken me to the fanciest restaurant in the city for one reason.
And one reason only.
“Excuse me?” I say, clutching at the pearls I only wear when I’m feeling fancy. Everything in this restaurant sparkles with wealth and a quiet, humming power. I can see my reflection in my champagne glass.
I sip, the bubbles sliding down my throat.
And I say again: “Excuse me?”
Nathan grins lazily, the cat caught with the mouse.
“Not much else to say.” He strokes the inside of my wrist with his long fingers. “I have a fantasy that involves you. One I’ve thought about at least once a day, every day, since we started dating.”
It’s been over a year now, and I still pinch myself, watching him undress each night, muscles rippling beneath his skin. Those full lips. His unbroken, urgent need to touch me. Possess me. Introduce me to a new pleasure so intense it leaves me breathless.
“And you want to do that… here?” I ask, looking around us. We’re in the very back of the restaurant—a dimly lit alcove.
“Yes,” he says simply before leaning across the table to give me a hard, commanding kiss. His groan vibrates against my lips.
“Please,” he says, nipping with his teeth. “Please give this to me.”
He is always like this. Powerful and dominating. But then, in an instant, begging me to save him.
“Oh… okay,” I stumble. I’m nervous, and he can tell. His lips hover over my ear.
“I’m going to slide beneath this tablecloth now. I’m going to kneel in front of you, like the goddamn goddess you are. And then I’m going to tongue that sweet pussy of yours until you orgasm in front of everyone here.”
My eyes flutter closed.
“How will… how will I hide it?”
Nathan pulls back and pins me with a dangerous gaze.
“That sounds like a problem you’ll need to figure out, gorgeous.”
And then, like a dream, he ducks beneath the cloth and settles himself in front of me. I can feel him, the coiled strength. His breath, hot against my skin. His thumbs, gliding up my inner thighs and pushing them open, not gently. All around me, couples talk. Kiss. Hands, lingering—one long, delicious foreplay. I wonder if they know; can they sense what’s about to happen to me?
A tug and then the shredded fabric of my underwear drops to the floor. His tongue is insistent. Two fingers fucking into me with slow ease. He works magic, knowing just how to tease me. Take me higher. I swallow my moans, hands tight on my champagne flute. Beneath the tablecloth I thread my fingers in his hair and pull him closer, urging him on.
Then I settle back, the queen on her mighty throne. The goddess he loves fiercely and worships like I deserve.
He traces a maddening pattern, fingers stroking deep inside me. I’m about to climax in front of dozens of people enjoying a steak dinner.
They can’t know I’m about to come. Although a small part of me is desperate for it—for them to watch as I fly apart under his skillful ministrations. My orgasm beckons, and I lay my head on the table, cloth napkin shoved into my mouth. Nathan slips a third finger inside, sucks my clit between his lips. Everything tightens, then explodes, as I scream around the cloth, bucking shamelessly against his mouth. The world narrows to just me and him, and I know, suddenly, that it will always be like this.
Complete and total ecstasy.
Nathan nuzzles my hand, pressing a kiss against my palm. I flag down a passing waiter.
“More champagne please,” I pant. “I want to congratulate my boyfriend on a job well done.”
I’m pretty sure I’m watching a beautiful woman orgasm in a restaurant.
“Do you see what I see?” I whisper to Grant, a guy I met on Tinder three dates ago. We have absolutely nothing in common except for white-hot chemistry.
And he’s sexy as sin.
His eyes slide to the woman sitting by herself in the alcove. Her hand is moving beneath the tablecloth, no date in sight. Grant glides his hand up my thigh. I’m wearing the shortest dress in the world, and his rough fingers on my inner thigh is divine.
“Tell me what you see,” he whispers, in a voice like sandpaper. I swallow, already too aware of his lips on the shell of my ear. His hand pushes between my legs.
“Well… I, um, I think her guy is under that table.” I spread my legs further as he nuzzles my neck.
“And I think...” The woman is panting now, one hand squeezing the champagne flute so hard it could break. “And I think I’m watching her get eaten out.”
Grant rubs my clit in slow, lazy circles. I jump in my chair.
“Shhh,” he soothes. “Keep talking.”
A waiter asks if we want a dessert menu, and we both shake our heads furiously.
“I think he’s on his knees.” The woman’s head tilts back. “She’s… God, I think she’s going to come in front of us.” He rubs my clit harder, and my vision darkens. His teeth graze my shoulder.
“What do you want?” he rumbles.
“To see her orgasm,” I say, and almost instantly she does, biting into a napkin, head on the table. Underneath the table, I grab Grant’s hand.
“I don’t want to stop touching you,” he groans.
“Me neither,” I say, turning to look at him. I know this won’t last more than a few hot, hard fucks. Which is fine by me. Between the stress of the law firm and too-many family obligations, I just want to spend a week drugged out on sexual bliss.
“Meet me in the bathroom,” I say, brushing my lips over his. His answering gasp is all that I need. His eyes rake over every inch of my skin as I saunter away, wet and ready. Thinking about that woman—a queen on her throne being serviced like she demands.
Luckily, this fancy-as-fuck restaurant has a gorgeous, private bathroom. I slip inside and barely have time to fluff my hair and check my teeth for food before he’s there.
Grant locks the door, slowly undoes his belt, and gives me the kind of look the Wolf must have given Red. I arch an eyebrow. His belt hits the floor.
In an instant, he has me hauled up on the counter, hair pulled savagely. Tears prick my eyes, the pain and pleasure shimmering through me.
“You’re the sexiest woman alive,” he growls, palming my breasts through my dress, sucking my nipples through the fabric. I bite back a moan… and then don’t.
“You
want people to hear,” he smiles, licking up my neck. I shake my head, coy, fingers unzipping and pulling and finally stroking his perfect cock between my hands. He is huge, thick and veined.
“I need you,” he whispers, forehead against mine.
“I need to come,” I say, giving him a bruising kiss and rolling the condom I always keep in my bra down the length of him. I wrap my legs around his waist, and he fills me to the hilt, fucking into me so fiercely I have no choice but to hold on. This isn’t love making.
No.
This is two humans embarking on something filthy and primal. Desperate and bone-shaking. He buries his face in my neck, cock stroking every nerve ending inside of me, thumb on my clit. I’m going to orgasm.
I’m going to orgasm with this handsome near-stranger fucking me practically through the wall. I can hear my screams of pleasure, the sounds of his groans and our bodies coming together echoing in the small room. It is so goddamn hot that I climax, shuddering in his arms with my name on his lips. He falls right after me, and we collapse against the sink.
A minute goes by, or maybe an hour. The kiss he gives me is a promise. As he slowly slides out of me, I hear something. A moan, maybe.
And then I hear it again.
Louder, this time.
Curious, I walk to the wall, pressing my ear against it. And hear, distinctly, the sounds of fucking.
Grant wraps himself around me, breath stirring the hair on my neck. “You’re an inspiration, darlin’,” he says, laughing softly. He is already hardening against me, hands skimming the hem of my dress. Lifting. Revealing.
“As soon as you can…” I sigh, feeling him drop to his knees, tongue licking up my thighs. “You’re going to fuck me. Again.” He groans his answer as I listen through the wall—moans turning to grunts, a steady, rhythmic pounding.
I close my eyes, a million fantasies springing to life.
And then I get what I deserve.
I was standing in the pantry with my ear pressed to the wall. Chef had just fired three of my tables, and I was holding a heavy tray filled with crème brûlée for the snooty assholes at table six.
My feet ache. My back is killing me. I’m scheduled to be on the clock for another four hours.
And all I want in this whole damn world is to keep listening to the hot couple fuck in the bathroom.
I’d just slipped in for a second, to grab an extra salt shaker, when I heard her moaning. They’d been all over each other all night. Her: curvy with wild curls. Him: tall, dark, and too handsome. They were the kind of people whose sex noises you wanted to hear.
And now, with my entire body pressed to the wall, her deep, throaty moans and his heavy breathing have me almost panting. I can practically hear how hard he’s fucking her. And I haven’t had sex in so long—good sex, that is. I was staring down a nine-month dry spell, and my vibrator just wasn’t cutting it anymore.
Before I’m aware—before I can even stop it—I find myself grinding against my palm, tray of food forgotten on the floor.
And that’s when Declan walks in.
“What are you doing?” he asks, and immediately I roll my eyes, hoping the dim lighting will hide my blushing. I open my mouth to say something snarky, but the woman next door lets out a guttural scream so loud it’s obvious what they’re doing.
“Ah…” he says, coming closer to me as I spin around, facing him. “You’re a pervert.”
His grin is smug and heated, and I want to smash a crème brûlée into it.
“Shut the fuck up,” I hiss, surprised at how breathless I sound. Declan’s only been working here for three weeks, but I hated him immediately. Brash, arrogant, and a total flirt—he rakes in tips I can’t believe—winking at me every night before he saunters home, broad shoulders stretching his uniform.
He’s sexy, too sexy, with a deep, scratchy voice and a smile that makes me weak in the knees.
I hate that.
“Hmmm,” he says, taking three more steps until he’s right in front of me, pushing my back against the wall. Up close, I can’t stop staring into his eyes.
One hand reaches forward, cupping my cheek.
“You like to listen. I like that,” he says, thumb caressing. I shake my head.
“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” I say, but his mouth is suddenly on me, and he’s kissing me like I’ve never been kissed before. Gone with the Wind-style, passionate and searing. On pure instinct, I yank him closer. Wrap my legs around his waist and let him lift me up against the wall.
Declan pulls back. “I’ve wanted to do that since the first moment I met you,” he says, running his tongue up the column of my throat. I’m mindless with a lust so swift I can’t remember how I got here, only that I don’t want to ever leave.
“Really? You want me?” I groan, as he nibbles on my ear, one hand roughly squeezing my breast. The sexiest guy I’ve ever met? The waiter that has women and men half-fainting in adoration every night?
“Fuck yes, love. I think about you every goddamn second of the day. Have wanted to take you in this pantry so many times.”
He kisses me again, so hard my lip starts to bleed. Between my legs, he is dry-fucking me with such intensity I orgasm, bright as a lightning bolt.
Declan slaps a hand over my mouth to keep me quiet, and that just turns me on more. It was filthy and illicit. Two coworkers meeting in a small, dark room to fuck each other’s brains out.
But quietly so we don’t get fired.
Declan doesn’t even let the sensations ebb before I feel my panties shoved to the side and his condom-covered cock pushing between the lips of my pussy.
“You are so beautiful,” he rasps against my ear. “And you come like a fucking angel.” I smile, just as the woman on the other side of the wall lets out a scream of pleasure, and it is so sexy I moan: “Fuck me please.”
And then all I can say is a steady stream of yes yes fuck yes because he fucks me like a dream. Like a man straight from the fantasies I’ve been having for months. Thorough and deep, his strong arms pinning me in place.
His lips wreak havoc on my breasts, my nipples, my neck. He is all over me like a starving man.
“I need this,” he groans, pelvis hitting my clit. “I need… fuck, every time you smiled at me. Every time you looked my way. Your ass in that skirt. Your laugh…” Declan had pined for me. Was pining for me. I kiss him, feeling everything tighten in my belly, another orgasm threatening to sweep me away. “I’m going to…” I pant, and against the wall, the couple has started up again, her moans right in my ear. “I’m going to… God, I’m going to…”
Declan’s hand slaps against my mouth. “That’s right, angel. Come for me. I want you boneless and dripping. I want this sweet pussy to milk me dry.”
I scream against his palm as stars explode across my vision, and Declan fucks himself to orgasm so skillfully I come again.
Magnificently.
My body feels like a garden with every bud bursting open to blossom.
And as we both collapse to the ground, crème brûlée everywhere, salt shakers rolling, Declan looks me in the eye.
“Go on a date with me. Please,” he asks, kissing my cheek.
And I say yes.
Wild Horse
It’s the night before everything changed.
Although I didn’t know that at the time.
We’re all at a night-before-the-rodeo party, the coiled tension making everyone drink a little more, laugh a little more, dance a little more.
The recklessness isn’t lost on me.
The Rodeo travel schedule has been hellish, and I’ve spent too many sleepless nights tossing and turning, body hot from thoughts about Sam. Not that I could ever tell anyone that—I wouldn’t dare.
But now my head is spinning from wine, my body loosening with laughter, and Sam is walking towards me with the same quiet, burning intensity I’ve seen when he rides. Fearless is what they call him – because even if he gets thrown, he’ll stare down
that goddamn horse until it flees for the stables.
It’s not fearlessness; it’s arrogance. Sam knows he’s going to win.
So he does.
And that same arrogance is heading my way: cowboy hat, worn jeans, a white shirt buttoned up. I squirm, the wine knocking down my walled defenses. I typically avoid these things like the plague—because Sam is there, and unless I’m treating him for an injury or nodding hello at breakfast, I try my hardest to pretend he doesn’t exist.
Yet here he is, reaching his hand forward. Lifting up his cowboy hat slightly, he pins me with a gaze that knocks the breath clear from my lungs.
“Dance with me, Doc,” he says with the perfect blend of cockiness and veneration, and I hear the strains of “Tennessee Whiskey” start up, and there’s a patch of dirt-floor under the twinkle lights that looks just right.
And then I’m letting myself be led, his eyes never leaving mine, and the past feels like an old photograph, water-damaged and faded. Sam pulls me into his hard body, and I let out a long, low sigh at the contact. Which he hears, his hand tightening on the small of my back, other hand tangling in my hair. His mouth is right over my ear, and he is softly singing along.
“Just one dance,” I tell him, feeling an automatic need to kick up resistance. But he shakes his head.
“You can’t deny this,” he says, breath feathering below my ear. “You’ve tried. I’ve watched you. You’re like a wild horse that refuses to be broken.”
Sexy Shorts Page 1
