The Alexandra Series

by Lizbeth Dusseau

  I didn’t realize how much he affected me until I returned to my apartment. My body ached – a strong, vibrating sexual ache. Thinking of his sexy style, his easy manner, and his hard body – he was the best looking man who’d ever paid attention to me. And he honestly wanted to see me again.

  Will Kozak suddenly went from rescuing friend to potential lover – in a heartbeat, in the blink of an eye. The desire was so fierce in me, I almost felt like a traitor to Jane, as if everything I’d felt for her didn’t matter because of Will. My body responded quickly to my idea of him. I didn’t care if I betrayed Jane’s memory – she would have done the same thing if she were in my shoes. Climbing into bed, my hand went to my crotch and within minutes a powerful orgasm took me away – all about Will, and the thought of him fondling me passionately, running his hands over my breasts and ass and belly and the opening so damp with desire. I thought of his stiffened cock inside me, of his riding me around and around in the wonderful circle of his sexy energy. As I drifted off to sleep, I was beginning to realize what Jane meant when she said I needed a man. With that, the thought of men, and specifically Will Kozak, were clearly front and center in my thoughts.

  Chapter Seven

  More than anything in the world I wanted to stumble into Will again. I made myself as available as I knew how; but for a week I didn’t catch a glimpse of him other than a quick view from my front window, when one morning I saw him climb into a little red Fiat and drive away. My fantasies were filled with thoughts of making love to him, which was a good diversion in light of Jane’s absence. I was possessed anew, but day after day of not seeing him, I began to doubt that he really wanted to see me again. In the midst of my anxious anticipation, I felt a full range of disappointment and hurt, as if I believed that something special had happened that one night that would never happen again. How silly of me to assume so much. He probably had a girlfriend and our one night was just a passing flirtation. By the time Will Kozak finally knocked on my door, I didn’t even imagine that it could be him, and I was totally shocked when it was.

  “Hey, you busy? Not too late for a little wine, is it?” He held up a bottle of Shiraz, smiling broadly.

  “No, no. Come on in.”

  “You look surprised.”

  “I am. I hadn’t seen you in a while,” I was so nervous I could hardly speak. “I-I figured you were on to other things.”

  “And I was. Sorry, I should have mentioned that I was going out of town on business.”

  He walked inside my apartment, gazing around at all the embarrassing frilliness, while I hastily found two wine glasses and the opener in the kitchen. When I returned to the living room, he was staring at an expressionist print, probably the only piece of art with any degree of sophistication in my apartment. He had his back to me, and for just a moment, I stared at his broad shoulders and tight ass, thinking he was about the sexiest man I’d ever known. A familiar rush of desire returned to my body, and I realized how quickly I fallen had for him.

  “So, how was your trip?”

  He turned around. “All right, just business, I thought about you a lot though.”

  “Really? I thought a lot about you, too.”

  “You know, I think we have a lot in common,” he went on.

  “Really?”

  “Loners. Like our quiet and solitude. And then there’s that rich fantasy life.” He snickered a little and I found myself blushing.

  “All true…” I hesitated a moment not knowing what to say, “but, um, what exactly are you getting at?”

  We sat at opposite ends of my couch and I watched him pour two glasses of wine. He handed me one.

  “I was just thinking back. You said you’re tired of being the good girl, and I think you are.”

  “Well yes,” I fingered the glass nervously. I couldn’t seem to stop myself from blushing.

  “Just speculating here…wondering if maybe your fantasies are so ‘out there’ that you’re afraid of what you might do.” He paused to let me comment, but I couldn’t think of a thing to say. “I get that you’re scared shitless. Every time you get close to something that really turns you on, you get scared and run.”

  “My, you do go right for the heart of things…”

  “Am I wrong?”

  I shook my head. “No, you’re not wrong at all.”

  “You said you weren’t the woman in your fantasies. But I think you are. If you’ll excuse the term, because I really mean it as a compliment, I think there’s a naughty little slut inside you just begging to get out.”

  I felt like I was burning up inside – didn’t know what to make of a man who would be so blunt with a woman he hardly knew. His appraisal wasn’t that far from the truth, but I could hardly admit that to myself let alone him.

  “So have I gone too far?”

  Yes, he’d gone too far, but it had been so long since I’d had a man pay this kind of attention to me. Oh, who was I kidding. I’d never had a personal conversation like this with any man. I wasn’t sure I wanted him to stop, and yet, I was so nervous that I couldn’t think of a thing to say.

  “Sorry, I’ve unnerved you, haven’t I? Didn’t mean to, really. Just wanted you to know that I don’t have any judgments about sex, or anything else for that matter. You don’t have to be afraid with me.”

  “Thanks.” Whatever was happening between us, I couldn’t look him in the eye. I grinned bashfully, then took a sip of wine and stared toward the kitchen. “How about we talk about you for a while?” I finally said when I looked back.

  He combed his hair back with his hand and chuckled. “Okay, I suppose that’s fair.”

  I fiddled with my wine glass and practically spilled its contents.

  “Am I making you that nervous?”

  “Please don’t take it personally. I’ve always been this way with men.”

  “So what do you want to know about me?”

  “I don’t know, whatever you want to tell me, I guess.”

  “Well for starters, I’m an artist—suppose you can guess that from my apartment. I did carpentry for a while before the art started to pay off. When money gets tight I do freelance graphic design. Not my favorite. Thankfully, I haven’t had to do that since I got a grant for a big installation at the museum a few years back. Since then, it seems like I’ve been doing nothing but work—not that I haven’t enjoyed it. I just don’t get much time to play around.”

  “Play around?”

  “I used to be in the club scene, lots of girlfriends, drinking, out late partying, drugs, sort of thing people expect from artistic types—which is really a bad stereotype. Thought it was good for my muse. After a while, I wasn’t doing any art at all.”

  “Sounds a little dangerous to me.”

  “It was sometimes. That’s why I had to clean up my act.” He laughed. “Freedom. That was what I was looking for. No strings. No rules. I was the proverbial bad boy doing whatever struck my fancy. But that life lost its luster. When my darker urges began to posses me, I spiraled into depression. Not pretty.”

  “What made you stop?”

  He shrugged.

  “Woke up one day, saw the shithole I was living in, and I was so embarrassed that I decided something had to change. I cleaned up my act as the saying goes. Now…I don’t mind getting a little crazy once and a while, but most of the time I live a pretty quiet, ordinary life.” He grinned. “Well…not exactly ordinary. I’d never want to be that.”

  I sighed. “And me…I’ve been living squeaky clean all my life, wishing I’d done something really crazy.”

  “Scared you’ll get hurt? Do something wrong?”

  I nodded.

  “There’s nothing wrong with a little hurt—makes you know you’re alive. Like the other night on the stairs.”

  I hadn’t thought about it that way. “Well, I was certainly, painfully alive that night.”

  “You’ve got to take some chances, Alex, do the unexpected.”

  “Right.” I blushed again,
and we were quiet for a time.

  “Would you like some spaghetti?” I finally broke the silence. “I’m kind of hungry.”

  “Giuseppe’s?” he suggested.

  “No. I have some homemade sauce in the fridge. There’s plenty.” I promptly rose and busied myself, pulling cartons out of the refrigerator, starting the pasta water. He joined, helping himself to the contents of my fridge, pulling out salad items, rummaging through my cabinets for a bowl and throwing together a salad, done before the pasta water was ready. Having a man in my kitchen was awkward and pleasant and fun and frightening.

  As we ate, the conversation was light and less threatening than it had earlier been. His charm, his good looks, the easy way about him had me wanting him more than ever.

  By the time we cleared the table, I could taste the desire on my lips and feel the vibration of it all the way to my toes. As I was filling the sink, he dropped plates into the soapy water. I felt his breath against my neck, and a shiver of want when his body grazed against mine. And when he placed his hands on my waist and gently kissed the back of my neck, the sudden rush of energy between us made me gasp. Will dried the dishes looking at me as if he had plans in mind – I could almost hear the gears grinding in his head. I smiled and looked away, still feeling self-conscious and awkward in the presence of the man. When the last dish was neatly tucked into the cabinet above, he pulled me in close to him. I shuddered but I didn’t push him away.

  He kissed me lightly – flirty, erotic kisses that barely brushed my lips. Soon they were wet and sensuous, his mouth opened and his tongue began to dance around mine. The embrace became more passionate with our bodies pressed together. He felt for my breasts beneath the fabric. This his kisses moved down my throat, and my body lit up everywhere his lips met my skin, and his hands touched. His fingers deftly worked the buttons on my blouse until the two sides of it dropped away. He stepped back and pushed it off my shoulders, while I trembled, nervous and afraid.

  “Will, please,” I said in gentle protest.

  He shook his head, and laid his finger against my lips. “Shussssh. There’s nothing to be afraid of.”

  He unfastened the closure of my lacy bra and let the two soft mounds free. I thought I’d orgasm on the spot as his smoldering eyes surveyed my chest. Without even looking down, I could feel my nipples tightened into hard knots under the intense gaze. Then with feverish insistence, he dove into my torso, kissing, biting, sucking my nipples, making me believe he’d devour me in sexual madness. I moaned with pleasure while my fevered brain tried to grasp what was happening.

  “Will, please!”

  He pinched a nipple hard enough to hurt, and yet that hurt only left me more aroused, more wanting and needy and begging for more. “Let go, Alex,” he whispered as he continued the foreplay. Suddenly, something came over me. I reached for him with my fingers digging into his t-shirt, clutching it, pulling it away, feeling obsessed with having him naked. Only in my fantasies had I ever behaved like this. I wanted to run my hands along his smooth skin and feel his firm muscles, his penis throbbing against my hand. When our bodies came together again, I felt his naked skin against mine and I thought my body would explode.

  I felt myself pulling back as if it were The Tropics or The Red Rose all over again. “Oh, dear God, this is too going too fast!”

  “No, Alex, it’s not too fast,” he said gently, firmly. “Stop fighting what you want.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. This is the way you want to be taken so just let go and let it happen.”

  Something in his firm command made my resistance wilt.

  “You want this as much as I do,” he purred as he nibbled on my ear. Then he grabbed my hair in his fist and pulled back, baring my throat again, kissing, biting, sucking my skin so hard I thought he’d drain my blood. My fear seemed to fall away and I swooned against him, wanting more.

  I knew we’d passed the point of no return and stopping was no longer an option.

  There was nothing subtle or romantic about our grasping hands or heated bodies. We’d gone far beyond my fears, where there was no more panic, no resistance, no wishing I was elsewhere, no amount of fright big enough to conquer my desire. There was no attempt to think about anything – and that was the best gift of all.

  I felt the first hot throb of his hard cock against my thigh and I thought I might come right then. Then he stepped back, took my face in his hands and kissed me hard. The force of that kiss seemed to penetrate me to the bone.

  Before I knew what was happening, we were in my bedroom, on the bed. Kissing. Groping. Grasping for pleasure like animals in heat. A ravenous me I’d never known had suddenly emerged from hiding. I felt for his belt, the snap, the zipper and then tore away at his jeans until he scrambled free of them. However, before I could get a good look at his cock, he turned me around in his arms and began stripping away my pants until I was naked with Will’s rigid organ pressing against my bottom.

  I wanted the feel of his cock inside me, the ache for him so deep it hurt. I prayed that he’d enter me before my fears rose up again. I could feel that fear lingering in the back of my thoughts. Again and again I pushed it back. I wouldn’t let it have its way. Not this time. Not this time.

  When he turned me around and pushed me to my knees, there was an instant, but the sight of his erection, so close, so personal, so real, swept the fear away. I watched how right there before my lips his manhood bloomed in all its splendor. All I had to do was kiss it and take it into my mouth.

  Impatiently, Will pressed my head to his cock. “Taste it, Alex,” he said, as if he were ordering me. My body responded to the command, drawing on a deeply submissive place I’d known only in my fantasies. My mouth opened and the hefty erection slipped inside. His scent was dark and earthy, like nothing I’d ever smelled, and as he moved in and out of my mouth in a steady rhythm, I realized that I would have stayed there fixed to his cock forever. But then he suddenly lifted me up so we were face to face, kissing again, rolling back and forth grasping and clawing like beasts. His cock was between my thighs, then suddenly inside me. Its fullness surprised me; it hurt to start, but it was no time at all before his inner body opened naturally, expanding to answer his pressing need.

  There was no fantasy as rich as those passionate moments, as exquisite as the feel of real flesh. His hands were on my behind driving himself mercilessly into my cunt. I loved the wildness, the roughness of his thrusts. I wanted them faster and faster, and I screamed for his throbbing cock to come in me. “Yes, yes do it!” I heard myself cry out. I moaned as the glorious pleasure in my body mounted fast, peaking, reaching and finally bursting forth just as he was coming in a final savage thrust.

  I sank down, out of breath and exhausted, and though Will collapsed onto me, he quickly rolled off coming to rest beside me as the sensations of orgasm slowly dwindled away. He kissed me tenderly, with an affection I wanted as much as I did the sex. And yet, my body was still so aroused that each kiss threatened to send me back into the fury from which we had just come. Each touch raised a new wave of excitement. My body was alive, needy, not as calm I would have thought. I wanted more. I pressed my mouth to his, not wanting any of this to end. I wanted to cling to him forever.

  “What? Are these tears?”

  I hadn’t realized I was crying. “I don’t know, I guess it was just so, so…amazing.”

  He kissed me again and lightly touched my face. “You’re amazing,” he said.

  There were no words to describe the feeling of relief I felt realizing that I had finally overcome my fears and discovered the kind of pleasure I’d always dreamt about.

  “You were a virgin,” he said, seeing the spilt blood on the sheets.

  “You’re surprised?”

  “A little. Yes.”

  “Well, it was only by minimum standards.”

  “I should think so, I don’t see how you could make love so well with so little practice.”

  “Just my raunch
y mind, I guessed.” I grinned.

  “Well, I’d like to gaze into your raunchy mind and see what’s there.” He started tickling me until I couldn’t control myself.

  “Stop!” I yelled, then I fell back into his arms, laughing.

  “So tell me about all these naughty things you think about.”

  It didn’t take but a second for the panic to rise in me again. “No, I’m not ready to do that, not yet. Please don’t spoil this night.”

  His eyes gazed into mine as if he were seeing deep inside me. “Okay, you’re off the hook for now. But I want to know, and you are going to tell me.” He was perfectly serious and I knew he’d ask again, but at least the conversation could wait for another time. We lay together in the beautiful light – how romantic, the stars and moon were shining bright, as if giving me their blessing. I couldn’t imagine things being any more perfect than it was at that moment. So comfortable, so close, so complete…so not alone.

  “You made love to Jane, didn’t you?” he suddenly asked. It had been quiet for a long while and the question took me by surprise.

  I instantly tensed. I don’t know why I was surprised that he’d figured that out; he seemed to have an uncanny knowingness about so many things.

  “Yes, I did,” I finally admitted.

  “It doesn’t change anything between us. I want you to understand that.” It was exactly what I needed to hear. That night, our first night, we fell asleep in each other’s arms.

  Chapter Eight

  Every minute I spent with Will was heaven, every moment without him was hell. That first night of sex had opened a torrent of unmet needs. The dam had burst and I was ravenous. I couldn’t get enough of the sexy kisses, chiseled body and relentless cock. I loved every inch of his body, every word he spoke, every smile and smirk, every evil-eyed stare. He made me afraid and ecstatic and sexually bold, and cared for me with a gentleness that often left me breathless. He didn’t allow me to whine or hesitate or put him off, whether in the bedroom or out. He wanted every bit of me, body, mind and soul. Of course, there were things I hid away in secret, though I had a feeling that eventually he would get to those as well, in time.