Trouble By Numbers Series

by Alam, Donna

  My heart jolts because yes, that would be amazing. I’d pay good money to hear about his latest bangfest, particularly if it’s man-on-man.

  I can always insert myself into the scenario. Later. When I’m in bed.

  ‘I’ve no idea why you would say that,’ I answer a little primly as Kit brings his glass to his mouth again. ‘Gin and tonic? I thought you were a whisky man?’

  Suddenly, he grabs the back of my chair, swinging me to face him. His long legs bracket mine, his forearm brushing my waist.

  ‘I don’t like the idea of you trawling hotel bars.’

  I snort to cover my flash of panic. Was I so obvious? How long has he been watching me?

  ‘Who do you think you are, my father?’

  ‘I’m not averse to being called daddy, but that’s a privilege you have to earn.’ The words roll like silk from his tongue; a tongue that’s especially skilled if I had to guess.

  ‘I’m not calling you daddy.’

  Then he leans forward, and with the backs of his fingers, he slides the curtain of hair from my shoulder, sliding them down my arm until my hand is in his. He’s all lithe movement as he stands, and I’m . . . standing along with him as he murmurs his answer.

  ‘We’ll see.’

  In the occupied elevator, Kit pulls me back to stand in front of him. We haven’t spoken, just walked through the hotel hand in hand. To anyone looking on, we probably look like we’ve known each other forever, and we’re just heading back to our room to chill. I doubt anyone would peg us as two people off to fuck.

  Oh, God. He’s going to break me apart.

  The doors ding and open. More people crowd in, and as I step backwards to make room, Kit slides his hand around to my stomach, pressing me to him. As I inhale, there’s a little catch in my breath. His hand is warm and solid, but it’s almost as though he’s touching the most intimate part of me

  ‘You’re not the only one who’s pierced, honey bee.’ His voice is barely a whisper with his lips at my ear. The pulse in my throat beats wildly, his large hand splayed across my stomach and over my belly button ring. He must’ve noticed it at the club in the corridor—it’s something I don’t even think about anymore. I’ve had it since I was seventeen! Oh, but I’m aware of it now, pressing against his hand. And more to the point, I’m aware of his hardness pressing into me from behind, which must mean—

  The monster in his trousers is pierced.

  I’m so turned on right now, but desperate to keep my hands to myself—to stop myself from turning, throwing myself up against him, and gluing my mouth to his face. And in another change of pace, I like that he has a nickname for me even though, technically, no one calls me by my real name. But when he whispers it like that, it’s like his own special claiming of me. Not that I’d ever admit it.

  ‘Are you thinking about it?’ he whispers as he toys with a lock of my hair before sliding it behind my ear. I shiver and nod, my knees as unstable as a newborn foal, and my thoughts just as wobbly. Of course, I’m thinking about his piercing. Of what it’ll feel like against my tongue, of what it’ll feel like inside me, when he kisses the soft skin behind me ear and whispers, ‘Good girl.’

  The last couple steps out of the elevator. Only four more floors to go, according to the buttons on the panel. My room isn’t on any of them, but it seems Kit’s is.

  ‘Don’t turn around.’ His hand presses me against him again. But for a jagged exhale and a small nod, I don’t move, and I can’t find any words to answer as it dawns on me that I’ve never felt so turned on as I do now. And I’m going to pretty much let him do what he wants to me because his direction is turning me the hell on.

  His hand glides to my back, pulling on the ties of my dress. It gapes at the front but doesn’t open. At least, not until his hands begin to undo the knot. My heart beats like runaway hooves, my mind torn. I mean, I want to get naked with this man, I just don’t want to do it in public, or in a hotel lift that, no doubt, has security!

  Without real planning or thought, I lift my foot and prod his foot with the point of me heel in warning.

  Okay, so I’m not as open-minded as my lust-filled right brain would like to think.

  ‘No?’ He sounds amused. ‘Then give me your knickers.’

  How can that ridiculous word sound sexy?

  ‘What?’ I try to turn around with little effect, considering his hold on me.

  ‘You heard me.’ His hands drift to my hips, the smile in his words very clear. ‘Take them off. I dare you.’

  ‘What are you, twelve or something?’

  ‘I was fourteen when a girl first took her knickers off for me.’

  ‘And a boy? How old were you then?’

  ‘Ah. I see how it is.’ The husky timbre of his voice twists my insides. ‘You’re a fan of a little man lovin’.’

  I bite my lip to stop myself from responding truthfully, answering with a saucy, ‘And you’re not?’ when his answer whips any more wisecracks out of me.

  ‘I was seventeen. But he didn’t need to be naked to suck me off.’ I whimper, lost in the imagery—a younger Kit and a faceless man on his knees. ‘Take them off, darlin’. I’ll make it worth your while.’

  I slip my hands under the hem of my dress, sliding the scrap of cream lace down my thighs and stepping out of them. The feeling of the fabric of his pants cause a shiver to roll right through me. If he wasn’t holding me right now, I think I’d fall.

  As the doors open one last time, I turn and feed them into his hand with a kiss.

  Chapter Seventeen

  BEA

  The door automatically clicks open, and it’s game on. I’m not sure if Kit reaches for me or I for him, but in an instant, my back is against the wall, all grasping fingers and frantic tongues. My hands shake with desperation and need as I try to unbutton his shirt when I notice in the dim light my dress is on the floor, and his fingers have already loosened the clasp of my bra.

  ‘Nice.’ His gaze turns my nipples to hard points before he even has his hands on me. Bra discarded to the floor; he holds my breast full in his hand, his thumbs brushing the tips, backwards and forwards, as between my legs begins to throb.

  ‘I want to eat your pussy first,’ he murmurs. ‘I need that honey all over my tongue.’ His eyes are dark and his face earnest, and as I open my mouth to agree, he flicks the tip of his tongue across both nipples. ‘You up for that, little bee?’

  I nod, desperate. I have so much pent-up need that if we were bargaining right now, I’d give him anything to have him down on his knees.

  ‘Good.’ His mouth pulls away, and he pulls his shirt over his head. His skin is a pale golden colour, his chest broad and firm. And in a delightful surprise, the skin of his right arm, from shoulder almost to wrist, is covered in the swirl of black ink. I want to touch him—want my hand on the skin of his warm flesh, want to trail my fingers over the intricate patterns of his tattoos, when he spins me around. Somehow, my hands end up splayed flat on the desk next to me, my bottom jutting out.

  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen an arse as white as yours.’ He slaps me once, and I jump at the contact because I don’t think I’ve ever been spanked, never mind told my ass is too white. ‘I bet you look fantastic in a bikini. I’d like to see you in one. All that honeyed skin and the tiny bits of fabric covering the bits that are all mine. Mine.’

  I don’t have a chance to dwell on the meaning of his phrasing as his hand hits me again. My responding whimper is such a sound that it leaves no doubt of what I’m feeling.

  ‘It’s such a tiny wee word—mine—but I kinda like the feel of it,’ he murmurs, words breathing against my skin as his fingertips trail down the backs of my legs.

  Feelings, so many feelings, as his large, warm hands move my feet farther apart.

  ‘Nice.’ The word is part appreciation, part gravel as he pushes down on my lower back, pushing my ass out. ‘This is going to be as delicious as it looks.’

  With a groan of appreciation, hi
s tongue slips between my legs. One lick and I’m already crying out, my fingertips grasping against the surface of the desk as though it’ll prevent my imminent fall. ‘I was right, darlin’. You do taste like honey.’

  His tongue swipes my length again before he buries himself between my splayed legs. I’m unprepared for the intensity, of how his tongue and mouth work me, and of his dirty words, promises, and growls because he keeps talking—telling me that he’s drunk on me, that he can’t get me out of his head. I’ve never experienced a high like it. I’ve never wanted to come so hard. He licks and tastes me like I’m something to be savoured, even more so as he spreads me wider with his hands.

  Sweat rolls down my spine. I’m desperate to touch him—desperate to feel him inside me. I can’t think—can’t focus on anything at all but the intense pressure building inside me, and how I want—need—his cock to fill me.

  ‘OhGodohKitOhmyGod.’ I chant a litany as pleasure, white hot and intense, crawls up my thighs.

  ‘You’re so fucking sweet on my tongue.’

  He pulls back, and before I process what’s happening, my backside is perched on the desk. My shaking legs draped over his shoulders, and his mouth, chin, and nose shine with my wetness in the lamp light. The sight is somehow obscene and wickedly delicious at the same time. He smiles up at me like the devil himself.

  And right about now I’m ready to sell my soul.

  ‘You were about to come.’ It’s not a question, which is just as well as I have no breath, let alone words. Cool air spreads through the room in a burst as the drop of sweat rolling down my neck starts to chill.

  ‘And you will, but I want to watch your face when you come.’ I roll my lips together to suppress a moan. ‘Would you like that? Me watching you.’ I nod again as he grasps my ankles. ‘Of course, you would, you filthy wee minx. It’s like dancing for me, only this time, I’ll be the one doing the torturing.’

  Then my heels are on the edge of the desk, and I’m spread so wide, so shamelessly, but I don’t have time to process or object as he slides two fingers inside my pussy. The intrusion is so slick and sublime, I cry aloud.

  ‘Give it to me,’ he grates against my flesh, the pointed end of his tongue pressuring and flicking my clit again and again. ‘Drown me in your fucking honey.’ I want to push into his face and bring my hand to his head as he teases me, but short of falling off the desk, I can’t. It’s like being tethered or tied. And I want that. I’m aware of every touch, every brush of cold air against my skin as I hold myself in place, panting and crying out his name.

  ‘I can’t, Kit! I can’t. I can’t stand it anymore. I need to come.’

  ‘Ask nicely,’ he responds in a quiet rasp, his gaze staring up at me between my legs. ‘Ask nicely, and I’ll make it so fucking good.’ His accent is heavier now, the need in his voice rendering the word something else entirely. I want to capture this moment, his avid expression, his need for me, so I can play it again and again.

  ‘Yes . . . please. I want that—anything.’ I want it all.

  ‘And in the morning,’ he says with a wicked half smile as he lifts my legs and drapes them over his shoulders, ‘you have to promise to tell me your name. Your real name.’

  I nod, desperate, almost missing the bit where he seems to want me to stay the night. ‘I-I will. I promise.’

  And then his tongue is working me, his head buried between my legs, and his fingers spreading me open for ease. His tongue is divine, his touches so rhythmic, my orgasm goes from smouldering to white hot, burning flame. I’m coming hard—so hard—pushing myself into his face, his head in my hands as my orgasm crawls upwards from my thighs, exploding in a burst of blinding heat and ecstasy.

  ‘Fingers. Tongue.’ From his position kneeling on the floor, Kit stares up at me for several long, loaded beats before licking the small but triumphant smile on his face. ‘You know what comes next.’

  ‘Your tongue is obscene.’ I sound hoarse as if I’ve been running, and of course, I mean his expression, but my mind is currently useless, my body drained of everything but the aftershocks of pleasure sparking between my legs.

  ‘Obscene?’ He quirks one lewd eyebrow as he helps lower my feet to the ground. He leaves his hands on my knees, preventing me closing them. ‘I did’nae hear many complaints just now.’ I mewl as he swipes one finger through my wetness as though to prove a point.

  ‘It wasn’t a complaint.’ My eyes flick to the bulge in his dark slacks. ‘And speaking of obscene . . . ’

  His responding laughter is low and raspy as he stands and begins slowly unbuckling his belt. The grace of action is unhinging, my anticipation so great I find I’m holding my breath.

  ‘You look like a kid at Christmas.’

  ‘Stop talking,’ I answer. ‘I’m tired of imagining, show me the good—good God!’ As the side of his pants falls open, the monster I’ll be dealing with snakes from the band of his grey boxer briefs.

  ‘That won’t . . . I’ll never . . . ’ I shake my head, mentally calculating while almost salivating. He’s pierced through the top. A little barbell thing. I’m so going to ask him about that at some point. Who pierces the thing they love the most? Kit Tremaine, apparently. And he must love that beautiful monster because it looks so at home there in his hand.

  ‘Anyone ever tell you it’s impolite to stare?’ I shake my head because I have no words. ‘It’s a good job I quite like being watched.’

  My eyes shoot to his then back again as he begins to jack himself slowly, the muscles under his tattoos tensing and bunching. I swear on all that is holy, my Rumlr feed has nothing on this man.

  ‘I want to fuck you so hard they’ll hear you in the reception—so the whole hotel knows my name.’ I squeak, moan, whatever as he begins walking backward towards the bed. ‘But we’ll go easy the first time, aye?’

  ‘F-first time?’

  ‘Come on, honey bee.’ He beckons me with a sinful smile and a crook of his finger. ‘Come ride my cock.’

  The edge of the desk digs into my cheeks as I hop off, and by the time I’m in front of him, he’s toed off his shoes, and the rest of his clothing lies like wrapping paper across the floor. The man is big—no doubt about it. All defined muscles and abs you could climb, but big is such an inadequate word when it comes to what he holds in his hand.

  And his piercing? I literally have no words.

  Chapter Eighteen

  KIT

  ‘Are you religious?’

  Her gaze flicks to my face from my cock, a cute frown forming between her brows. ‘Why do you ask?’

  ‘Your pleas for divine intervention.’ She sends me a look that screams really? ‘Come on and bring your divine self over here.’ I pat the bed next to where I’d dropped the condom from my wallet, my other hand still wrapped around my cock. ‘Let’s see if I can make you really see God.’ With a firm hand, I slide my hand up to my cock head, twisting it the right amount. ‘Fuck, that’s good.’

  ‘You like touching yourself,’ she almost whispers. Her eyes bright and avaricious as she steps closer to the bed. She’s so fucking gorgeous, all lithe legs and tanned skin. Well, apart from the bits her bikini has hidden from the sun. I want to ask if she’s been on holiday lately, but I know it’ll only bring up the question of him.

  Him. The dick of her ex-boyfriend.

  The prick who threw this fucking beauty away.

  To the victor go the spoils, pal.

  As she reaches touching distance, my unwelcome thoughts drop away, leaving just the two of us and our nakedness, desire humming in the air.

  ‘I like you watching me.’ I slide the pre-cum from the tip over my shaft to help with the drag. My hand moves in slow, heavy strokes as my abs tighten.

  ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything as erotic,’ she answers earnestly. ‘Or so large. And with, erm, accoutrements.’

  My chuckle sounds more like a grunt as I tighten my grip. ‘And you a doctor.’ I tsk playfully. ‘The things I’ve seen, honey
bee, would probably blow your mind.’

  ‘Will you tell me sometime?’

  ‘I’ll go one better than that. I’ll show you. If you want me to.’

  Before I can say another word, she’s bent at the waist, one hand steadying herself on my thighs. The soft brush of her hair against my stomach causes my abs to tighten and flex as she lowers her mouth, surprising the shit out of me when she tongues the head of my knob, murmuring her appreciation like I’m fucking ice cream.

  ‘Fuck.’ The muscles in my thighs tighten, my hands making way for hers as she holds my shaft, tonguing my piercing and licking my glans and slit until my legs shake with the need to just rut.

  For an encore, she presses her lips together at the tip. And it’s good. So fucking good.

  ‘Show, Kit. Don’t tell,’ she whispers through a wicked smile.

  My arms fall away as she slides me into her hot, wet mouth. The sensation sublime. Up and down, her mouth glides, her fingers gripping and twisting at the root. For a moment, I’m inclined to just give in, to let her give me head—to come like this, shooting my load down the back of her throat. I imagine wrapping my hand in all that luxurious hair and showing her just how to make me come, but as her eyes slide up my body, the gleam of her victory shines.

  It’s as though she can read my fucking thoughts.

  ‘Get up here, honey bee.’ Hooking my hand under her arms, I pull her off my cock, and she falls forward, the five hot points of her fingers searing the skin of my chest. I take her face in my hands, sliding my mouth over hers and using my teeth on her neck and my tongue between her lips. Not that she’s passive. No, she’s very much into this kiss, mewling and rubbing her hot, wet pussy against the hardness of my dick. That she’s kissing me after I’ve tongued her is just icing on the cake.

  ‘You’re so fucking delicious,’ I whisper, trying hard not to flip her over. Shove myself in. The animal in me wants to take control each time her wetness rubs me and each time she moans into my mouth. But with a wet smacking of lips and a glide of skin, we separate.