The After Dark Collection: Books 1-3 in The Gift Series

by Blakely, Lauren

  The attraction had only grown.

  It expanded in my mind. It took over my dirty thoughts.

  For the longest time, I hadn’t known what to do with those feelings. Hadn’t known how to fit them into my life, inside the walls that hemmed me in. So, I’d denied them. He’d flirted, and I’d darted and dodged.

  But now I was giving in, fitting him into what I needed.

  And as I gave in, I had my first answer to one of my questions—how would it be to say his name in a moment of longing?

  Easy, that’s how.

  It was so damn easy to say his name with want.

  As I waited for him, the full scope of my proposition shook me like the chorus of a rock song at a concert.

  I craved this man.

  I craved him from deep within my body and my mind.

  For long, heavy seconds, the strength of those cravings scared me.

  I had no room for longing, no space for anything more than knowledge.

  Just stay in the moment.

  Remember the mission.

  Embrace it for what it is.

  There. I was as ready as I’d ever be.

  The moment began with a rustle of sound. Then, movement. The click of the lock. A rush of heat in my core.

  The door opened. His breath hissed, then he groaned, low and deep. “Ms. Williams. I see you’ve prepared the final paperwork,” he said. I thrilled at how he stayed in character.

  “Yes, but I thought you might want to make sure everything is to your liking first.” I turned my gaze to him.

  Hell. This man was a sight.

  He had indeed loosened his tie, and he tugged it off now, slow and measured, dropping it on top of my clothes. Raising one hand, he undid the top button of his shirt, and then the next.

  “Actually . . .” He walked toward me, sounding as if he was appraising something, or like he was about to make a last, decisive chess move. “I have some terms and conditions.”

  “Oh?” My voice rose at this unexpected turn.

  “Yes. Final points, if you will, that you’ll need to meet.”

  “And if I don’t agree?”

  He bent closer, his lips near my face. “Then I walk away.”

  A shiver spread through me at his power play. “So, a loophole?”

  “Yes, let’s call it a loophole,” he said, gently teasing.

  “What’s the loophole exactly?” I sounded breathless. I felt breathless.

  He bent over me, his strong body pressed to my back, his stubble near my cheek, his scent—clean and masculine—drifting past my nose and intoxicating me. “With a bonus clause,” he said, running his hands along my arms. His touch was exhilarating. It was tender and controlling at the same time. And his voice, so rough and husky, turned me on more with every word that fell from his lips. “If I make you come in the first five minutes, the bonus clause activates, and you get another one.”

  My entire body shuddered with anticipation. “That’s bold of you. Are you sure you can deliver?”

  He pulled back, staring at me with an arched brow. “You doubt me, Ms. Williams?”

  I gave a coquettish shrug, which wasn’t easy to do from that position, but it felt wholly necessary to the game we were playing. “Maybe I do, Mr. Hamilton,” I said, a little tease. “After all, it’s our first time doing business together. How do I know you’ll deliver on all the terms of this deal?”

  He stepped away, stood behind me, and lifted a hand.

  I wasn’t a submissive. I wasn’t into being tied up. But a swat on the ass? Bring it on.

  He brought his hand down hard on my flesh, and I cried out. Loudly. So damn loudly.

  His expression was stony as he slid his fingers between my legs, testing me. I moaned as he stroked my wetness.

  “Your body doesn’t seem to doubt me,” he murmured.

  “True, but I still need more proof. Think of it as a show of good faith.”

  He gave another swat. Harder. Sharper.

  “Ow,” I called out as I grew wetter.

  “There. Are you now convinced I’m serious?”

  “Why don’t you check?”

  His fingers returned to my center, and I rocked against them until he pulled them away a few seconds later, bending close to my ear again. “Seems you’re convinced.”

  “I think I might be,” I said.

  He took his time, drew a breath, and spoke in a filthy tone. “Then, can you agree to get on your knees and suck my cock once I’ve proven I can meet the terms on my end?”

  “That sounds mutually beneficial,” I said with a naughty grin. I ached to be touched again.

  “Good.” He stepped away from me, but never took his eyes off my body as he unbuttoned his shirt the rest of the way. I stared shamelessly, admiring the expanse of his chest, the cut of his abs, and the decadent dip of his V.

  He smirked. “And are you enjoying the potential of our business deal?”

  After months of dancing around my desire, I didn’t want to pretend. I wanted to own this lust. “So much.” I took a beat and licked my lips, our eyes locked on each other. “So damn much,” I added, wanting him to know. “And you?”

  His lips curved into a grin. “I find the possibilities of our partnership quite enticing.” Returning to me, he brushed his fingers over the curve of my ass. I moaned as a wave of lust swept across my skin. “Absolutely, deliciously enticing.” He spread his palm over my cheeks, squeezing.

  “I was hoping you would.”

  He moved behind me, and I turned my face, following him, watching him as he stared between my legs. His eyes went darker, savage almost. “You see, Ms. Williams, I set those terms because I could tell how much you wanted this deal. But I’d also like to hear it from your pretty little mouth.”

  “I do want it,” I said, breathless, desperate, and enthralled with our game.

  “I want it too,” he said huskily, as he put both hands on my ass, spreading my cheeks. “So goddamn much.”

  He kneaded my ass, squeezing, playing, groaning as he went, sounds of approval rumbling in his throat. With each touch, I grew hotter, the temperature in me shooting dangerously high.

  I wriggled my rear, asking for more.

  And he gave.

  Oh God, did he ever.

  His hand glided between my thighs, his fingers coasting across my wetness. My eyes fell closed. I dropped my face, and I groaned as he took his sweet time, indulging in touching me. “Oh, God.”

  He stroked my clit, his fingers expertly playing me. “Yeah, I think you’ll meet the first term,” he said, so damn casually, as he thrust one digit inside me. “I’ve got a feeling.”

  I had a feeling too.

  Many feelings, and all of them were filthy and fantastic as Jake fucked me with his fingers. He crooked one inside me, hitting me in that spot that made my vision blur. That made the world around me narrow and spin.

  My belly tightened, and pleasure crawled up my legs and pulled at my skin.

  He followed my cues, thrusting harder, deeper with the quickening of my breath, the swaying of my hips.

  Desire wound tight inside me, an exquisite ache that came before release.

  I hadn’t expected this so soon. So fast. But my legs shook, and I felt out of control. I was losing hold of my grip on this scene, on the game, on my goals.

  I didn’t think he’d take me so quickly, so commandingly.

  As he fucked me with his fingers, his other hand banded around my waist, gripping me. He bent over my back, covering me, his stubbled jaw skating near my ear. “Yes, I bet we’ll be doing this deal in many ways. Multiple ways,” he rasped, and I shattered.

  My hands curled around the couch, digging in, as the force of my orgasm tore through me.

  I came like a wave hurtling toward the shore, faster than I expected, harder than I could ever have imagined, crashing more powerfully than I would have predicted.

  My climax pulled me under as I moaned and groaned and shuddered.

  I
barely had time to surface for air when I felt something else.

  Something I wanted desperately.

  Jake’s cock.

  He rubbed the head against my wetness, stroking, teasing. Then checking his watch. “Looks like I met the under-five-minute clause. So it’s time for the bonus,” he said, then pulled back and grabbed a condom from his pocket.

  “I do enjoy bonus clauses,” I panted as my eyes locked on him, long, thick, and perfect as he sheathed himself.

  He slid a hand up my back, pushing my blouse farther up, all the way to my neck. “Gorgeous,” he murmured. “What a sexy back. I’d love to come all over your back.”

  I blinked. The image was so carnal, so arousing, that a fresh wave of heat surged in me. “You should sometime.” My voice hardly sounded like my own. But it could only belong to me because I was saying things, doing things I’d only done in my dirty, very private dreams.

  And I loved it.

  I was awash in lust as his hand ran down my spine and between my legs again. He positioned himself, then in one swift move, he pushed into my wetness.

  And I cried out.

  I couldn’t hold back my moans.

  They were ridiculously loud as Jake filled me, and the delirious pressure made my skin sizzle.

  He groaned, gripping me harder, thrusting deeper. His hands dug into my hips, and he held me so hard as he filled me. Then he pulled back, swiveled his hips, and stroked into me with a sexy grunt that sent heat across my body.

  There was something so primal about the way Jake fucked me.

  Something so alpha.

  My blouse was bunched at my neck, and I wore only heels. He was still in unzipped slacks and his unbuttoned shirt, and he was fucking me like a powerful man fucked his woman at the end of the day.

  With need.

  With knowledge.

  With control.

  And with complete and utter desire.

  He pumped into me, his hand traveling up to my hair, gripping my locks, wrapping a handful around his fist.

  He seemed to sense that, for tonight at least, I didn’t need flowers and candles. I didn’t care for slow, sensual kisses all over. And I didn’t need a ton of foreplay.

  I needed good, hard fucking from a man who knew how to give a woman everything she wanted. Everything she needed.

  Some days, a woman just needed to be bent over a couch and banged in a Las Vegas hotel room by a man who knew how.

  As Jake rocked into me, his hands roaming around my waist, palms reaching my breasts, a new understanding hit me.

  No wonder friends gave friends escorts for gifts.

  Because this was a fantastic gift.

  Hotel sex of the very best kind.

  Hard, fast, powerful.

  And out of my control.

  This was what hotel rooms were for.

  For being owned.

  Being taken.

  Being wanted.

  I felt coveted as he stroked into me, his hands rough on my breasts, his cock deep in my pussy, his moans feral in my ears.

  Moans of praise.

  So fucking sexy.

  Feels so good.

  Yes, rock back on me, baby. Take me deeper.

  All those words turned me on higher, made me lose myself in this world of night, of fantasies, of games made real. Jake fucked me like my business partner who wanted to have hot, dirty hotel sex with me.

  Soon, I felt that pulsing again—another climax tugging me under.

  “Mr. Hamilton,” I cried out, grasping at our game, trying to hold on to it, but losing myself in sheer bliss.

  “Yes, give it to me.”

  I was already there, soaring, flying. Feeling so much. He fucked me to the limits of my pleasure and his too, as he grunted and groaned through his own release.

  Sounding exactly like a man in a fantasy would.

  A man who was exploring my fantasy.

  And I realized something terrifying—this was everything I’d hoped it would be and more.

  That was what scared me.

  The more.

  12

  Jake

  A man should never ask How was it? after sex if he doesn’t know the answer. If you can’t tell whether your partner liked it, then you’re not going to get the answer you want.

  You’ll get a hem and a haw.

  A lie.

  A smile that covers up her lack of orgasm.

  The only reason a man might ask a woman How was it? would be to give her a chance to purr in the afterglow.

  After we cleaned up and disposed of the condom, I scooped Kate into my arms.

  “Why are you carrying me?” Her question was genuine, but she laughed as I crossed to the bed.

  “Because it’s fun.” I dropped her on the mattress, eliciting a sarcastic “Thanks.” But her expression said she was in a playful mood.

  Like me.

  Good sex always puts me in a better mood.

  Great sex, and that was what we’d just had, was a happiness elixir. I was a king right now, riding the best kind of high.

  I flopped down next to her, my body still craving nearness to the woman I wanted. Shifting to my side, I ran my fingers along her cheek and asked the question, because I couldn’t wait to hear how she answered. “So, how was it?”

  When she met my gaze, her eyes were soft and pretty, a hint of vulnerability in them. Or perhaps it was openness. Whatever it was, I liked it, especially as she asked gently, “You don’t know?”

  I stroked her arm, savoring the feel of her warm skin. “I want to hear it from you.”

  Her eyebrows climbed. “You do?”

  “Why so doubtful?”

  “It doesn’t seem like you to conduct a postmortem on what was obviously great sex.”

  Ah, that description warmed the cockles of my heart. And other cockles. “But it’s exactly like me, and here’s why—I like fucking you. I intend to fuck you again, and I want to make you scream in pleasure every single time. So the more you tell me, the better it gets. Is that good enough for you?”

  She smiled like the Mona Lisa. “All you had to do was say that.”

  “Does that surprise you? That I want to know what feels good to you?”

  She shrugged. “A little, to tell the truth.”

  “Why is that surprising?” Then it hit me—the same reason most women weren’t used to this conversation. My jaw clenched. “Let me guess. Guys you’ve dated didn’t ask or care how to make sex better for you? Or if there was anything else you wanted to try?”

  She tapped her nose. “Bingo.” She ran a hand through her hair. “Sure, some asked how I liked the steak. Was it cooked the way I wanted? But no one asked if I wanted chicken. Or pork. Or the vegan patty, perhaps, with sriracha sauce.”

  I laughed at her outrageous metaphors. “Or sautéed tofu?”

  “Exactly. Didn’t they know I wanted bacon-wrapped gizzards one night and garden burgers the next?” She laughed, then her humor tapered off. “But seriously, that was exactly how it went. No one asked. No one wanted to know, I suppose.”

  Shoving a hand through my hair, I huffed, then tried to let go of my frustration. I would never understand why jerks appealed to women. “Enlighten me. Tell me what draws you to the breed of man known as ‘jackass.’”

  She pushed my bare chest. “I didn’t say I liked that breed. That’s not my thing. I don’t go for cocky assholes. But news flash—most men don’t know how to make sex better for a woman. Because most guys don’t actually want to try new things.”

  I propped my head up higher, liking this direction and curious about what she might share. “So, this was new to you?” I waved toward the living room. “What we did?”

  She inhaled like she was drawing strength, then nodded. “Yes, role-playing like this is new to me.”

  The warmth that spread through me was different than lust, stronger. Kate had let me in on something private and personal, and my heart sat up and took notice. “But you’ve wanted to? And wer
e never with someone who did too?”

  “Exactly. I’ve never met someone I wanted to explore those aspects of my sexuality with. I think I always knew I wanted more than vanilla sex, more than reverse cowgirl on anniversaries, but I didn’t know exactly what I did want either. I didn’t know if my interests were in role-playing or voyeurism or just trying some new positions and having sex on the table or something.”

  “How did you figure it out? What you craved after dark?”

  She took a beat, glancing around the suite, which felt like a private cocoon now. “It took a while. In college, sex was usually just about the freedom and novelty of being able to have it in your dorm room instead of sneaking around. Then after college, I was so focused on business that all that took a back seat. Once I started dating more seriously, I didn’t quite realize what I was missing, either, because I was always drawn to the really romantic guys.”

  I cocked my head. “That’s surprising. You don’t seem like the type who likes to be wined and dined.”

  “I like those things,” she said softly, like she was letting me in on another secret.

  I held up my hand to halt her right there. “Whoa. Stop the presses. Kate Williams likes to be romanced?”

  She rolled her eyes. “And you wondered why I didn’t want to say anything.”

  I ceased the teasing, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear. “It just doesn’t seem like you, that’s all. You come across as so tough. Take no prisoners. Like you don’t need flowers or dinners at Michelin two-star restaurants.”

  Her eyes lit up. “I love Momofuku.”

  “So that does get you excited,” I said, teasing her more gently. Also, I could relate—that was a damn fine eatery, the best in this city, and a classic date place. “So, secret romance-lover, why do you pretend you’re not into romance?”

  She sighed heavily. “Because of my ex. He was a full-on romantic, and I was kind of swept up in that. A lot swept up in that, actually. But then he opened credit cards in my name, took off, and dumped all his debt on me. Fabulous, isn’t it?”

  I sat up straight, spurred on by surprise and outrage. “Are you kidding me?”