Into the Blue (A Wild Aces Romance)

by Chanel Cleeton

  “Potato, po-tah-toe.”

  “For the record, I think it’s a terrible idea.”

  I poured myself more wine. “So you’ll help me?”

  Her eyes gleamed. “Hell yes.”

  * * *

  On Wednesday we met at Shh!, a store that catered to seduction. From the outside, you never would have known the store was an erotic treasure trove. It had a fairly industrial look to it, the red lipstick kiss logo on the sign out front the only thing that hinted at a naughtier side.

  Inside was a different story entirely.

  Lizzie clutched my arm, her eyes wide as we walked into dildo-ville. I wasn’t a prude by any stretch of the imagination, but a giant foot-long phallus was a little startling. Especially on my lunch hour. Buy a girl a drink first.

  “You are definitely buying something. No way am I doing this alone.”

  Lizzie grinned. “That’s one way to make it up to Adam for having to get a babysitter.”

  “Sorry about that.”

  “Please. You need your best friend for moral support.”

  I laughed. “I definitely do.” I took a deep breath, already feeling sensory overload at the bright, flashing lights and the thumping music that gave the feel that we were in a porno film. “Okay, I only have an hour. Let’s do this.”

  We perused the shelves, cracking up a bit over the various implements they had for sale. Some of it was sexy, but most of it was just . . . a little too out there. Like the giant blowup doll. And the male thong with a pouch that resembled a barnyard animal. How having a pig over your cock was supposed to be sexy, I’d never know.

  We hit the lingerie section, and I attacked with the intensity of a general planning a military campaign. Judging by the enormous bouquet of flowers that had arrived at my office this morning, keeping him on his toes was going better than I’d anticipated.

  “What about this?” Lizzie held up a sexy schoolgirl outfit.

  I wrinkled my nose. “I feel as if that’s more like letting him have all the power. I want to feel in charge.”

  Her next selection was black leather and chains.

  I laughed. “Maybe a step too far. I don’t want him licking my boot or anything.”

  “Just on his knees.”

  I grinned. “Exactly.”

  We grabbed different outfits, discarding a naughty nurse ensemble that, while hot, was probably a little too costumey for me to pull off. I worried that if I felt silly rather than sexy, the whole thing would fall apart, since I clung to sexy by a thread that threatened to disintegrate under the weight of my nerves.

  I made Lizzie grab a few outfits to try on, figuring she and Adam deserved a freaky-naughty night. I promised to watch Dylan so they could have some privacy.

  We tried on outfits, exchanging giggles as each one was more ridiculous than the last. And then I got to the final piece of lingerie, slipped it on, and felt that inaudible click.

  Oh yeah.

  This was the one.

  “Did you find something?” Lizzie asked, calling to me from the other side of the curtain.

  “I did.”

  I couldn’t take my gaze off my reflection in the mirror. I felt sexy in this one, like I was still me, but a more wicked version of me. A girl who wasn’t afraid to go after what she wanted. A girl who could have the man she craved, any way she wanted him.

  “Is the plan still for you guys to meet on Friday for dinner?” Lizzie asked.

  “We actually don’t have a plan. Yet.”

  “What do you mean? I thought he texted and asked you out yesterday.”

  “He did. I haven’t responded.”

  And then inspiration struck.

  I peeked out from behind the curtain, the fabric hiding my body.

  “Question. I want to be clear with him that this is just sex. And I want the upper hand.” I wanted this to be fun. Not sad exes reconnecting or anything like that. “Up until now, all of the moves have been his. How bad is it if I send him a picture? Hot or desperate?”

  Lizzie grinned. “Well, first off, you guys were together for like forever. Second, I was there Friday night and he looked at you like he was gagging for it. And finally, he went down on you in a field on Monday. I’m thinking a Wednesday sext is well timed.”

  And that was why she was my best friend.

  I disappeared behind the curtain, my heart hammering. I’d never actually sent a guy a naked picture of myself. Given my job, anything with my face in it, anything that made me recognizable, was totally and completely out of the question. But a cleavage shot?

  I wanted him off balance when I saw him. And I didn’t want to wait until Friday.

  I pulled my phone out of my purse, my fingers trembling slightly as I turned on the camera. I played around with the angle a bit, taking a few test shots, gaining a whole new appreciation for people who took selfies. Finding a good angle was no joke. Finally, I found one I liked, not bothering to feel guilty about the fact that I adjusted the filter—after all, the push-up magic of the bra was already false advertising. Besides, all was fair in love and war—or in our case, sex and war.

  I composed the message, giving him the four things he needed:

  A picture of my breasts, popped up to impressive heights, heavy and full in black lace. And then the message—

  My place. Tonight. Seven p.m.

  THOR

  The cold shower didn’t do a damned thing to help. Ever since Monday, ever since I’d found myself between Becca’s legs, my tongue on her clit, my lips on her pussy, my cock had been hard and aching, begging for release. I couldn’t forget the sound of her moans, or the way her nails had scored my skin, or the taste of her in my mouth.

  I was high on her, and by the way my dick tented my towel, I wasn’t coming down anytime soon. I was a junkie who needed my next fix, and the pisser of it all was that after I’d texted her and asked her out, even after I’d made her come so hard her body shook, she hadn’t responded.

  I’d checked my phone approximately two hundred and sixty-eight times in the last twenty-four hours.

  Crickets.

  I removed the towel from my waist, drying my torso, balls, cock, gripping the base, stroking up, over the tip, figuring this was the only way I’d find relief anytime soon.

  After our picnic there was no doubt in my mind that she wanted me, but at the same time, I didn’t know if it was enough for her to give us a shot, to let me in. Didn’t know if I was enough.

  I’d sent her flowers. Big, fat roses. Nothing.

  I sat on the bed, leaning back against the pillows, my hand between my thighs, eyes closed, imagining it was Becca’s mouth on me—hot, wet—her tongue licking me from base to tip, her lips closing down around me, sucking me deep—

  My phone beeped. I froze. It beeped again.

  I abandoned my cock, lunging for the nightstand, my heart lurching as I felt a mix of hope and dread—that it was Becca, that she wanted to go out with me, that she didn’t want to go out with me, that it wasn’t her at all and I was stuck in limbo still.

  I grabbed my phone, closing my eyes as I whispered a silent prayer. I opened them and my mouth went dry, dick rock hard, and my heart fucking stopped.

  For an instant I was convinced I’d gotten the text by mistake, that it was meant for someone else. But then I saw her name, and the message, and really, I deserved a medal for being able to read and focus on anything at all in the face of that picture.

  I was momentarily speechless, the image of her full, perky tits, pushed up like an offering, rosy, red nipples peaked and ready for my mouth and hands, encased in black lace. Seeing her tits pushed together like that . . .

  I wanted to fuck her there. Wanted to drag my cock between them, surrounding myself in her silky skin, watching my cock, wet from her pussy and mouth, slide in and out, wanting to come on her
tits, to mark her up.

  I groaned, my hand sliding down my body, cupping my balls, squeezing gently before sliding up and fisting my dick. I’d been close before, but the sight of her tits, her nipples, the knowledge that she wanted me as much as I wanted her, simply broke me.

  I squeezed and stroked myself, hard and fast, gazing the entire time at the picture she’d sent, imagining all the things I wanted to do to her tonight. All the things I would do to her tonight.

  I felt it, building up inside me, my balls tightening, cock hard to the point of pain as I increased my motions, pumping harder, faster, and then I was coming, my body shuddering and quaking as my release wore me out.

  I fell back against the pillow, my hand at my side, my chest heaving and falling like I’d run a marathon.

  If it was like that after my hand and a photograph, I could only imagine how fucking fantastic it would be when I had her.

  I cleaned myself off with the towel and grabbed the phone, shooting off a quick text.

  I can’t wait to fuck you all night.

  FOURTEEN

  BECCA

  I stared at my reflection in the mirror, attempting to channel my inner man-eater.

  You are sexy. This is the best you’ve ever looked. You can do this. Do not get awkward. Do not babble. Do not freak the fuck out.

  I felt about as nervous as I had my first day in court, except this time I had the added benefit of being sans clothes.

  I took a sip of the champagne I’d poured, steadying my nerves.

  I’d forgone dinner, figuring there was no point in making this something that it wasn’t; the sext said it all—this was physical, nothing else.

  Heart, do not engage.

  I heard the knock at the front door, my gaze flying to the clock on the nightstand. Seven on the dot. I shouldn’t be surprised that he was punctual given his military background, but it was a change from the boy who’d been perpetually late for everything.

  Equal parts nerves and anticipation filled me, and I wasn’t sure if his promptness was something to be cursed or praised. I could have used another few minutes or hours to get my shit together.

  Now or never.

  I took a deep breath, steadying myself, noticing how the motion made my breasts bounce. Seriously, this corset was better than a freaking boob job.

  I walked to the front door on the ridiculously high stiletto heels I’d bought at the sex shop. I’d never owned anything quite like them, but in for a penny, in for a pound.

  I unlocked the door, taking a quick sweep of the room—low lighting, candles, seduction music that was more sexy than romantic. Perfect.

  I opened the door with the flourish of pulling back a curtain and stared up into Eric’s eyes. Even in the heels, he still had a few inches on me, but by the time my gaze met his, the full punch of lust had settled there. And I basked in it. Drank it up like fine wine.

  I stepped back on shaky legs, opening the door for him to step over the threshold, hoping I wasn’t giving my neighbors a hell of a show in the process.

  He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He didn’t speak as I closed the door behind him.

  He looked hot tonight—really hot.

  Dark jeans. Another button-down with the sleeves rolled—this one navy, complementing the blue in his eyes. He smelled good, he looked amazing, and whatever nerves lingered inside me converted themselves to desire by the time my perusal reached his fine ass.

  Eric turned and stared at me, his gaze piercing me again, lingering on my breasts, sliding down to the scrap of lace between my legs, a flush rising on my skin under his scrutiny before he lowered his attention to my bare legs and the strappy sex heels covering my feet.

  He grinned, his gaze sparkling with mischief. “Please tell me you don’t always answer the door like that.”

  I opened my mouth to respond with something normal, and then I remembered my mantra and the fact that I was supposed to be some kind of sex-vixen or whatever. Man-eaters didn’t explain themselves. Right.

  I took a step closer to him, and then another one, until the tips of my breasts—my already-pebbling-in-anticipation nipples—brushed against his pecs.

  He groaned, reaching for me, his hands cupping my bare ass, squeezing, kneading the flesh there.

  Get control. You need the upper hand.

  I tilted my head up, inhaling his scent, my lips grazing the curve of his neck, reveling in the shudder against my mouth.

  Oh, yeah. I could get used to this.

  My lips found his ear, sucking gently on the lobe, nipping the soft flesh with my teeth, my body tingling as another groan fell from his lips, his fingers digging into my ass.

  “How badly do you want me?” I whispered, trying for the throaty sex voice I’d spent some time practicing earlier this afternoon. The fact that I was getting over a cold had definitely helped.

  His cock hardened against me and I purposefully shifted my body, drawing him closer to the throbbing point between my legs.

  Eric buried his face in the curve of my neck, mouthing the skin there, his breath wet and warm. Moisture pooled between my legs.

  “You sent me that picture and I was already hard, wanting you. Already aching, remembering how sweet you tasted on my tongue, what it felt like to have your pussy quivering beneath my mouth. When I saw your tits like that, all I could think about was fucking you there, sliding my cock between them while I cupped you, pushing them together so they swallowed me, jacking myself off over all of that creamy white skin.”

  Cannot breathe. Need air. Legs giving out.

  I dug deep to withstand the impact of his words without completely dissolving into a writhing, needy mess.

  “I ended up fisting myself, getting myself off to the picture of your tits, just like this, and the image of what I’d do to them later,” he growled.

  Ahh hell.

  A tremor slid down my body, then another one. Tension slammed into me, and for a moment I couldn’t do anything but stand there like a rabbit caught in his snare, my heart pounding in my chest as lust hit me wave after wave and I fought the desire to throw caution to the wind and give myself over to pleasure.

  This mattered. It mattered to me. I wanted to be the one left standing when he walked away and I wasn’t so naive as to think sex wasn’t a big part of this. Right now boundaries were my best friend and I wanted the power that surged through me at the idea that I’d turned him inside out. I wanted to do it all night long.

  I slipped out of his grasp, taking a step back, putting the distance I needed between us to give my body a chance to get this raging need under control.

  I tilted my head up so my gaze locked on to his, holding myself steady in the face of the arousal I saw there.

  “If you want me, you have to do what I say.” His gaze sharpened as the words left my lips, and I felt it then, that familiar ping of power.

  He’d always been older, always been the more experienced one, and I’d always been happy to follow his lead.

  Not anymore.

  His mouth quirked into a smile that was a couple notches above his usual mischief, as though he were channeling the devil himself.

  That did things to me, too.

  I kept my voice firm, using the tone I adopted when faced with a difficult judge or pain-in-the-ass opposing counsel. No way was I going to let him charm me. If he wanted in, he was going to have to earn it.

  As soon as I rolled my tongue back into my mouth.

  He took a step closer to me, that fucking smirk in his eyes that I recognized all too well. Then another step.

  “Just what are you going to do with me?” he whispered, his hand trailing down my arm, leaving a flash of goose bumps in its wake. I fought the tremor.

  “First off, you have to ask permission to touch me.”

  Oh, his smile turned wicked at that,
warming me from the inside out like molten lava sliding through my veins. He pulled his hand back slowly, letting it dangle at his side.

  “Can I touch you?” he whispered, his voice teasing me, slithering inside and curling around my heart.

  I barely resisted the urge to fan myself.

  Get a freaking grip.

  “Take off your shirt first.”

  There. That was good. Commanding. Plus it gave me the added advantage of eye candy, and if I was going to have all of my naked bits hanging out, then he should have the same.

  He started at the top button of his shirt, undoing it and exposing the skin at the bottom of his throat, and then the next one, and then the next, those clever fingers baring his beautiful body before me and sucking all the air from the room. Eric shrugged out of the shirt, the fabric hitting the floor.

  I looked my fill and he let me, standing there as though he knew exactly the effect his body had on me, and he loved every minute of it.

  To be fair, though, he deserved the adulation.

  He clearly worked at it and it showed. He was all smooth planes and sculpted muscles, light hair sprinkling across his chest. And then my gaze dipped lower, to the trail of hair disappearing below the waistband of his jeans, and suddenly, I wanted more.

  “Pants next.”

  His eyes gleamed and a dimple popped out. Yeah, he was definitely enjoying this.

  “How about boxers?” he asked, his voice husky, raising the stakes as his hands rested on his belt buckle.

  “Boxers, too.”

  It felt like all the noise had disappeared from the room but for the sound of the metal buckle clanging together, then the soft whoosh of the leather leaving the loops, the belt hitting the floor with a thunk. Then came his zipper, dragging down slowly in a move I was pretty sure was designed to be my own private fighter pilot striptease.

  I ate it up like an ice cream sundae.

  Then the jeans slid down his hips, exposing a pair of black boxers, a defined vee like an arrow pointing down to a spot I desperately wanted to go, and the even more impressive erection I’d felt against me.