Her lips part slowly. She’s still giving me that innocent stare. Shit – I won’t last long. Not with her looking at me like that.
Her mouth closes around me. Warm and wet. I should give her time to acclimate to the experience of having a cock in her mouth for the first time, but I want to come. So much. I want to empty myself into her mouth and watch her struggle with my desire. It’s all for her. It’s all because of her. I want her to have it all.
I hold the back of her head as I thrust softly into her mouth over and over again. It’s taking all of my self-control to restrain myself from plunging deep and hard into her throat. God — my balls are so fucking tight. My legs prickle with electricity.
She runs her hands up the backs of my thighs to my ass and she squeezes, pushing me farther down her throat. Her lips work my shaft, pursing and squeezing me. Back and forth, fast then slow. She says that it’s her first time doing this and I believe her, but she sucks my dick like she was born to do it, like it comes naturally to her.
“Shit — Sammie…I…I’m…I’m…” I try to pull out of her mouth before the ropes of come spill onto her tongue, but she holds me there, keeping me captive as she milks my orgasm with her lips. And I empty, empty, empty into her mouth. She tries to swallow it all, but it’s too much. It’s dripping down her chin. “Oh, god,” I groan. My head spinning, I collapse into the wall behind me.
She falls back onto her ass, still looking up at me in bewilderment, like she can’t believe what she just did. She’s never looked more beautiful and sexy. She’s a slice of heaven.
I pull up my pants then reach a hand out to help her to her feet. “You okay?” I ask. She accepts my assistance and as she rises to her feet, a dazed smile takes over her lips. She glances around at my discarded jacket and the slush from our shoes, puddling on the floor.
“That was…hot!” she whispers, her fingers ghosting her lips.
“Fucking right,” I mumble as I pull her to myself, kissing her wet, swollen mouth. “But I’m not done with you.”
I take her by the wrist and lead her up the stairs to her bedroom.
We’re frantic as we undress each other in the dark. All I want is to feel my cock inside of her again. It’s the only thing I’ve thought about all day. She lies in the middle of her bed and I climb on top of her. I kiss her, swirling my tongue around hers, nibbling on her bottom lip, tasting the tang of my juices still lingering in her mouth.
“I want you so much,” I groan against her lips as I roll my fingers over her clit and down across her seam. My hand is so wet from touching her there. It’s crazy how much her body wants this.
She moans my name followed by a string of words that make no sense. That’s how I know that she’s ready.
I find a condom in my pocket and roll it on. I flip her over, so that she’s on her hands and knees. She seems self-conscious at first, she isn’t comfortable in doggy-style. “Are you okay?” I whisper into her hair.
She nods. “Yes,” she says in a soft voice. She’s unsure, but she wants to be adventurous with me. That’s a real turn-on.
I sink into her, balls deep, and she quickly forgets her discomfort.
I kiss her neck and the space in between her shoulder blades as my fingers circle her pulsing clit. She purrs quietly, the sound low and restrained.
“Sammie,” I groan her name quietly.
She reaches back, grabbing at my thighs, pulling me closer. She wants it harder, deeper. I give it to her. Just how she wants it. She’s hissing and writhing in my hands. I grab a handful of her hair and pull her up so that her back is pressed against my chest.
“Christ, Sammie,” I say just before I slide my lips over hers, swallowing her lusty, little cries. “I can’t believe how good you feel. You’re so tight, Sammie. So good. I just want to fuck your greedy, little pussy until you’re losing your mind.”
“Yes,” she sighs. “Do it, Keeland.” She slams her hips back into me again and again, abandoning all control. One of my hands cups her breast, pinching her hardened nipple between my fingers. My other hand slips between her legs, strumming her clit in an erratic rhythm.
Without warning, she’s spasming around my dick, squeezing me tight as she climaxes, making loud, frantic noises. A million tiny explosions flash before my eyes as I combust inside of her a moment later. Our cries mix together in an erotic cacophony that fills the room. Our damp bodies tremble against each other until the shock of pleasure has subsided.
Sammie falls forward, landing on her pillows. She’s panting when she glances at me over her shoulder. “Oh my god, Keeland. That was the best…”
Chapter 25
Keeland is gone by the time I wake up the next morning.
Thank god!
I’m confused enough as it is. The last thing I need is an awkward ‘morning-after’ interaction to muddle things up even more.
The first time we had sex, I chalked it up as a one-time indiscretion…but then, it happened again. I catch a glimpse of the four empty foil wrappers in the garbage bin next to my bed.
Four times?
Yup, four times.
I roll gingerly out of bed. I'm absolutely gutted. Sore and raw in the most delicious way. And my mind is spinning. My body has betrayed me over and over again, sexing it up with my sworn enemy. I hate that it felt so good.
I take a quick shower and get dressed for the day before heading downstairs. I start the coffeemaker and tackle the second box of Master Ink receipts with renewed fervor. The faster I get this work done, the faster I can cut all ties to Keeland Masters and try to salvage what’s left of my sanity.
My concentration is shit, though. All I can think about is his cock filling my throat and his fingers tangling in my hair and his –
A sudden knock at the back door startles me out of my daze. I stand and straighten the sash of my blue satin wrap-around dress when Keeland slides the door open and sticks his head inside.
“Hey, do you like English muffins? I made you a breakfast sandwich.” He kicks off his shoes and saunters into the kitchen, holding a ball of bacon-scented aluminum foil out to me. “Gotta keep your energy up if we’re gonna keep fucking like we did last night.” He winks brashly.
I’m blushing hard and my heart feels all fluttery. I snatch the sandwich out of his hand. “Keeland, you can’t just show up here every time you get a hard-on. I’m not some kind of – ”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” he holds his hands out defensively in front of him. “Don’t get all weird on me, Sammie. The sandwich is just a neighborly gesture. I’m actually here on business.”
I quirk an eyebrow at him. “Oh, really?”
He walks past me and sits on the lip of the table. “Yes. Really.” That’s when I notice that he’s carrying a manila envelope under his arm.
“What’s that?” I ask, dropping into a chair.
“Maxwell had this couriered to me this morning. There’s someone interested in buying Master Ink from me. I’ve got lawyers in California looking over the legal terms of the offer, but I wanted your opinion on the asking price. I think it’s pretty generous but I wanted to double-check with you.” He slides the envelope across the table to me.
I place the envelope on top of the box of receipts. “Okay, no problem. But, I won’t be able to give an opinion on the offer until I’m through with the bookkeeping,” I tell him. “And I’m nowhere near done.” I stand to walk him out.
I can’t spend the day chitchatting with Keeland. I’ve got work to do. And besides, I know very well that, with him, a few minutes of innocent chit chat can easily turn into naked bodies grinding each other into the linoleum floor.
“Yeah. Fine.” He eases off of the table, about to leave, but he pauses at the door. Seriousness settles on his brow. “Are you gonna do this whole guilt-trip thing every time we fuck?”
“What guilt-trip thing?” I say, flipping my hair and trying to act casual.
He laughs. “You’re such a good girl, Sammie. I’d bet you’re terrifi
ed of Daniel finding out about us.”
He’s teasing me, taunting me. He knows me too well.
He approaches me, backing me up against the kitchen counter. “Don’t let your heavy conscience get in the way of a good time.”
He knows how to push my buttons. He knows that calling me a good girl will rile me up and make me eager to prove him wrong. His hand slips between us, sliding through the slit in my dress. There’s a war going on inside of me. My desire to prove that I’m not guilty battles against the urge to keep my distance from him.
But when he slides his fingers across the lace edge of my panties, I sag against the counter and give in. A conceited grin unfurls across his lips as his hand creeps beneath the flimsy material and across my damp core. His touch is soft and teasing and my body silently begs for more. I hum impatiently when pushes my panties aside and his fingers slip inside of me. Twisting, exploring.
My hips jerk wildly, chasing after his touch. I hear the arrogance dripping from his voice when he leans into my ear and whispers, “You love it, don’t you, Samantha? You love the way I dip my fingers into that tight, hot pussy.”
I should probably push him away and slap him across the face for talking to me like that, but his conceited words only make me wetter and more eager for him.
Now, he’s moving faster, curling his fingers to find that elusive spot that makes the whole world explode into a mess of lights and tingles and sensations. And when he finds it, oh when he finds it, it’s like the floor melts beneath my feet and an earthquake shakes inside my bones. My core contracts around his fingers and I howl in ecstasy.
He holds me by the waist, softly thrusting his semi-erection against my bare pussy as I recover from the impromptu finger-fuck. "Be honest, Sammie. Have you EVER had this much fun?"
I’m still reeling as I shake my head reluctantly. No, I haven’t.
"So, what’s there to feel guilty about?"
Chapter 26
I roll up my yoga mat and slide it into my bag while Isla’s students filter out of the studio. She smiles at me as I approach.
“Class was awesome today,” I say. I make a big deal of joining the tips of my index fingers with the tips of my thumbs in an exaggerated yoga gesture. “I’m totally blissed out or whatever.”
She shakes her head, resisting the smile playing at her lips. “Thanks, hun.” She wraps an arm around my shoulder and leads me to her tiny office. “We have this awesome new ginger-charcoal matcha tea,” she says excitedly. “Wanna try it? You’ll love it.”
I crinkle my nose at her. “Uh, I think I’ll pass.” I sink into the colorful velvet armchair across from her battered, hand-carved desk.
She chuckles as she puts teabags into two cups and adds water from her glass teapot. “Earl grey,” she says setting a cup in front of me before sitting behind the desk. The mess of spreadsheets and receipts and hand-scribbled notes on the table are in stark contrast with the earthy, bohemian style of the room. Isla looks at the documents and groans. “This is really the last thing I want to deal with right now.”
“Most people don’t like dealing with their accounting,” I say sympathetically, “but it’s a necessary evil. Take Keeland, for example. He let three years worth of stuff accumulate and now it’s taking forever to get everything sorted out. I’d bet he wishes he’d dealt with it all sooner.”
Her eyes light up. “Speaking of Keeland, did he tell you he’s been coming to my Wednesday morning hatha class?”
I toss my head back and chortle in surprise. “What?”
She nods. “Yup. The ladies love having him there. I swear attendance of the class has doubled and now everybody’s fighting for a spot at the front of the room so he can get a good look at their ‘assets’.”
We both roar with laughter at that. “Well, it looks like Master Kee is good for business,” I say.
“He definitely is.” Isla leans forward on her elbows and peers eagerly at me. “So, tell me – what’s going on with the two of you?”
I sit back in my chair and try to appear aloof. “What do you mean?”
She grunts. “Don’t act ignorant with me, Sammie. Are you two still screwing? Is it becoming serious?” She narrows her eyes and smirks. “Should I be expecting you two to show up at next weekend’s Tantric Yoga for Lovers Retreat?”
I laugh. “Yes, we’re still ‘screwing’. No, it’s not becoming serious. And, hell no, we won’t be at your weird, couples’ yoga ménage orgy retreat or whatever.”
I’ve recently given up on the idea of trying to resist having sex with Keeland. It’s pointless. Our chemistry is off the charts and he makes my body feel things I never imagined possible.
But a relationship is out of the question. Not only because Daniel would kill us both, but also because Keeland Masters is not the kind of guy I’m willing to put my heart out there for again. I did it once and it backfired in a disastrous way. So, we’ll keep ‘screwing’. But that’s about it.
Isla folds her arms across her chest and gives me a disappointed look. “Sammie – would you please stop getting in the way of your own happiness? We both know that you have feelings for Keeland. You’ve always had feelings for Keeland.”
I fold my arms, too. “I don’t have feelings for Keeland. Besides, how do you know that he wants a relationship?”
“Because he’s a great guy and I know he knows how awesome you are. Of course he wants a relationship. But, you’re stubborn and you’ve got a huge chip on your shoulder where he’s concerned. You act like you’ve got something to prove.”
“Something like what?”
“How good you are at resisting him.”
I scoff, looking away. “You’re ridiculous.” I stare blankly at the oriental tapestry hanging on the wall behind her. “We’re having fun. It feels good. Simple. I really don’t feel the need to psychoanalyze it.”
Her face goes serious. “You two might have something special, Sammie. Something that can withstand the test of time. Something other people would die for.” I instantly know exactly where she’s coming from.
Isla married Zayn Wilkinson straight out of high school. To the outside world, they looked like the perfect couple, until it abruptly came crashing down last winter. She and I don’t talk about it, but the subject is always there in the background, ghosting her words and adding morbid undertones to every conversation.
Luckily, I’m saved by a knock at the door. Blakely, Isla’s younger sister and trusty assistant, sticks her head into the office, a rush of fiery red curls spilling across her face. She speaks in a hushed voice. “Hey, sorry to interrupt, but Mr. Byrne is here for his massage and he insists on having you.”
Isla looks at the documents on her desk and slaps her hand to her forehead. “Shit – we haven’t even started looking at this mess yet, have we?”
I give her a reassuring smile, all too happy to put an end to our little, off-topic meeting. “Let me take this stuff home. I’ll look it over and we can chat about it over the phone.”
She looks at me with relief on her face. “That’s an awesome idea.” She turns to Blakely. “Can you help Sammie organize this stuff and give her a ride home?”
Blakely nods, stepping into the room. Isla tosses her the car keys before rounding her desk and popping a kiss against my forehead. “I owe you, Sammie.” She says as she rushes out.
I laugh. “Just stop talking to me about Keeland and we’re even.”
Chapter 27
I’m raking the leaves from Sammie’s front lawn when she climbs out of Isla’s car. When I see her struggling with the hefty bag she pulls from the backseat, I hurry down the walkway to help her.
“Hey there,” I say as I snatch the load from her hands.
She looks up at me with suspicious eyes. “Hey.” She glances past me to the pile of leaves on the lawn and back to me again.
Ignoring her wary expression and whatever nonsense is probably brewing in her head, I lean into the car. “Hey Blakely. How’s it going?” I say br
ightly.
The shy redhead turns to me with timid, green eyes. “Hey Keeland. I’m fine.” She purses her lips and dimples pop up on her freckled cheeks.
“See you in hatha class on Wednesday?” I say with a small salute.
“Sure thing.” She blinks away coyly as I turn back toward the house. When Blakely peels away from the curb a moment later, Sammie follows me up the walkway.
“Why are you raking my lawn?” she asks cautiously.
I shrug my shoulders as I climb the stairs and stand aside for her to unlock the door. “I was raking mine and noticed that yours was a mess.”
She narrows her eyes at me, then stares out at the driveway. First, it’s confusion that registers on her face. Then, it’s pure panic. “Where’s my car?” she shrieks. “Oh my god! Somebody stole my car.” She gallops down the stairs and into the spot where her broken-down Prius had been sitting since it sputtered out on her. Now, all that’s left is a thick, black oil stain.
Lover Boy (Blue Collar Bachelors Book 1) Page 33
