Wicked Me

by Lindsey R. Loucks

  “Sam,” she whispered. The plea in her voice fisted both my hands through the hair at the nape of her neck.

  I couldn’t stop myself even if I wanted to. I pushed her into the wall beside her open door, our lips not quite touching, not giving a flying fuck that Riley could stroll out of his bedroom at any time to catch us. She wanted me. There was no way I could refuse.

  My dick throbbed against her, and I fought the urge to grind myself into her. I angled her head into the light from my bedroom to see that look of pure need again and smiled at her gasp.

  “Please,” she breathed across my mouth.

  I teased my tongue along her lower lip while her hands roamed over my bare back, pulling me closer. My hands worked their way under her shirt and over her shockingly hot skin to cup her perfect tits.

  “Please what?” I asked, thumbing her nipples into tight buds.

  She gasped when I sucked her bottom lip between my teeth. “Everything.”

  I crushed my mouth to hers, and she kissed me with an intensity that riled me up even more. She writhed between me and the wall while I thrust my tongue into her mouth, licking, tasting, savoring everything about her.

  Every flick of her tongue, every pump of her hips against the enormous tent in my jeans made me kiss her harder, rougher, until she moaned. We both pulled away, panting and glancing at Riley’s door. Seconds later, she looked up at me with a naughty grin that nearly made me come in my jeans. Then she pushed me away from her and into her bedroom, and closed the door quietly.

  God, she was gorgeous when she was about to be wicked with me. Moonlight striped the room through the half-open shades, creating a halo-like effect on her hair. Her cheeks were flushed, her lips swollen, and her nipples hard underneath her shirt.

  My fingertips twitched with the need to touch every inch of her. My dick ached to be buried deep inside her. In one swift move, I had her pressed against a wall, her arms locked above her head so I could devour those sweet lips and feel her body melt against mine.

  I glided one hand around to her ass, the other still holding both her wrists, and rocked her hips against my cock. She took my groans into her mouth and kissed me even harder. One yank at the elastic waistband of her shorts and panties dropped them both at her feet. The musky, sweet scent of her filled the room. The powerful urge to taste her drove me to my knees.

  She inhaled a shaky breath, her whole body quivering, as I gazed up her bare hips to her navel to her heaving chest. I hiked one of her legs over my shoulder and trailed kisses up the inside of her thigh, breathing all of her in. She was spread out so perfectly with her patch of wet, dark curls and her naked, shapely hips braced against the wall. Seeing her so ready swelled my dick to an agonizing ache, and I stroked myself through my jeans.

  At the first flick of my tongue, she cried out and bucked against the wall.

  “Shh,” I breathed against the apex of her thighs. “The door isn’t locked, Paige. He could come in and see us like this. You’ll have to be quiet. A quiet, naughty librarian.”

  Sure, we could’ve locked the door, but where was the fun in that?

  As if reading my mind, she stared down at me, eyes at half-mast and fevered, likely mirroring mine, and nodded. She shuddered with the effort and brought her hands to the back of my head.

  Like I needed any urging. She tasted like melted honey, and I drank my fill like a dying man in a desert. With each flick of my tongue, her hips rolled into me, fucking my face faster and faster. My own hips mimicked hers, humping the air, my swollen dick wishing it could take the place of my mouth. But she tasted too good.

  She didn’t cry out, even when she started to tremble around me. I could draw this out all night, bring her to the cliff’s edge again and again, so when she finally did come, it would blow her fucking mind.

  “You like this, don’t you? The possibility of being caught?” I whispered into her soaked curls.

  Her grip tightened at the back of my head, her trimmed fingernails digging into my scalp. She gasped. “Stop talking.”

  I grinned into her folds and looked up at her, at the moonlight glowing across her skin, at the lustful way she stared down at me. Somehow it turned me on even more. I tugged down the zipper over the bulge in my jeans. With my other hand, I cupped her and pushed two fingers inside her. Fuck, she was tight.

  She dropped her head back against the wall with a closed-mouth moan, the tendons in her neck straining. When my entire hand was drenched with her, I reached into my boxers to ease the pressure on my dick. When she glanced down and saw what I was doing, her eyes brightened and her tongue wet her lips.

  “Don’t stop,” she whispered.

  Watching her watch me jack-off was such a fucking turn on. A loud groan rumbled through me, so I buried myself between her thighs again to muffle it. I pulled at her clit with my teeth and stroked myself with the same juices that flooded my tongue.

  No way would I last long like this, locked between Paige’s thighs while her fingers stroked the sides of my face. But before I lost control, I worked my mouth expertly to push her over the edge.

  It didn’t take long. She gasped “Oh” before her whole body trembled.

  My tongue continued to guide her through it, even as an orgasm built at the base of my spine. It slid lower, lower, multiplying in power with each thrust of Paige’s hips into my face, each slide of my fist, until it exploded out of me. I moaned inside of her while her aftershocks continued to quake through her.

  A door in the hallway opened. Riley’s door.

  Let him walk in and see Paige sated, smell the sex in the air. Maybe then he would back off and treat someone else, not Paige, like an object to be dumped on the side of the road.

  But when the bathroom door across the hall clicked closed, I took my cue. I slid up Paige’s body, enjoying the feel of every curve rubbing against mine. If Riley dropped dead from being a worthless human being, I would totally be up for round two just to hear how loud Paige could moan. If Paige didn’t look like she was about to fall asleep in my arms, I might’ve been up for round two anyway.

  I kissed her, just a small, innocent peck, a promise for more, lots more, another time. “Good night, Paige,” I whispered against her lips.

  She smiled a sleepy, sexy smile that magically put a chub back in my cock. “Good night, Sam.”

  14

  Paige

  RULE NUMBER ONE WHEN living with a panty annihilator like Sam Cleary? Google them before allowing them between your legs.

  Several articles portrayed him as a rebel, even in prep school where he wore his blond hair only slightly shorter than it was now. In a YouTube video when he was asked what his future plans were after high school graduation, he stated, “Get out of this fucking suit and tie.”

  That one made me smile, but a D.C. gossip blog slid it off my face completely. It showed slightly blurred pictures of Sam entering a bar called The Underground Hill with a gorgeous blonde and leaving an hour later with a brunette. The time stamps on the photos showed the same night, but this really shouldn’t have surprised me.

  The man certainly knew his way around the female anatomy well enough to give me the best orgasm of my entire life. Never mind Slave. I didn’t want to think about how many women he’d practiced on or what it meant that I loved every second of it. I especially didn’t want to think of other things I would like to let him do to me, because I didn’t want to be that kind of girl.

  Not anymore. I had overheard Dad call me wicked when he and Mom learned I was pregnant, and it had taken years of therapy with Dr. Morrison for me to believe I wasn’t. Still, my past relationship with Rick and the resulting consequences of that should have been a powerful reminder to tread cautiously. Besides, Sam wasn’t part of my lifelong plan.

  But those lips. That devilish tongue. How he was so turned on by what he was doing to me, he needed to touch himself.

  No.

  He was too dangerous, made me feel too much, as if I were some life-sustaining thing
to be worshipped. Wanted. Needed. Craved.

  I didn’t deserve any of that. To remind myself of this last night, I should’ve opened Mom’s email with the subject line Her Number instead of waiting outside his bedroom door. Her Number should be made into a warning label I could slap on any available body part when I lost sight of the safe path I needed to take. That or Warning: Pregnancy Can and Does Occur After Unprotected Sex. Warning: Hot Man Ahead—Proceed With Caution. Warning: You Are What You Eat So Cannibalism Totally Makes Sense. If only that last warning label really would summarize that email, then life would be so much simpler.

  After I readied myself for day two of my internship, I traipsed downstairs with an easy smile I hoped looked perfectly relaxed. Inside, however, my blood sizzled at the idea of seeing Sam again. Rounding the corner into the kitchen, I willed that feeling to disappear, and when it didn’t at the sight of him, I tried to breathe through it. And failed miserably.

  He stood at the island, half naked like always, hunched over a cup of coffee. His blond hair curtained his vivid blue eyes, and some of it stuck to the rough stubble along his jaw. The same stubble that had scraped my inner thighs in such a delicious way. As if sensing the direction of my thoughts, his tongue skimmed his bottom lip and his mouth tipped up in a devious grin.

  Bastard.

  “Morning,” he said.

  I forced my gaze away from him to Riley who was pouring himself a cup of coffee. He was the picture of professionalism dressed in slacks, a crisp button-up shirt, and a striped blue tie. He was supposed to be the safe brother, the one my parents had planned a lifetime of neat and tidy with before they whisked me away to Wichita for Dad’s new job. When I had the baby nine months later, I was too tainted for anyone’s son after that.

  “Good morning,” I said, more to Riley than Sam.

  “Sleep well?” Riley blew into his cup and strode to the island.

  Bags shadowed the skin underneath Riley’s bloodshot eyes, but his fingers marched a sporadic rhythm on the island and his gaze flicked all over the newspaper spread in front of him as if he wasn’t really reading it. It made me wonder how many buckets of coffee he’d already guzzled to fight off his hangover. Between the two glasses of wine he’d had at dinner and the countless beers when we got home, I imagined he wasn’t feeling 100 percent today. I wished I could blame his level of alcohol consumption on his poor behavior in the restaurant, but my gut told me that had little to do with wine and a lot to do with growing up. He just wasn’t the same person I knew as a kid.

  If he heard us last night, he didn’t give any indication.

  I nodded. “Pretty well.”

  “You didn’t stay up too late reading your book porn, did you?”

  Okay, the use of that tired phrase was getting really old.

  “No book porn last night,” I said, trying to make my voice light.

  Sam sat up and looked at me with a trace of a smirk tilting those lips. “So just regular porn, then?”

  I strode to the cabinet for a cup to hide the blaze that flamed the tips of my ears.

  “Watch it, SamRam,” Riley warned.

  “Nope. Just a regular, quiet night with a regular, quiet book.” Quiet because we’d had to be, and the thrill at what we did with Riley in the very next room made it all the more exciting. So not regular at all.

  My hands shook as I poured the coffee. It didn’t matter how thrilling it was or how he made me feel or the things he could do with his hands and tongue. There was no room in my life for Sam Cleary. Period.

  As if to prove it to myself, I whirled around and slammed into a wall made of muscle and tanned skin. Coffee sloshed out of my mug and splashed dangerously close to a pair of bare feet attached to a half-naked man. Sam stood in front of me, a breath away, gazing down with his signature grin, seemingly unaware how close I’d come to scorching a few of his toes.

  “Sorry,” I breathed.

  His nearness spun the room, which was now empty except for the two of us. Where had Riley gone?

  “He went upstairs. He doesn’t know,” Sam said as if reading my thoughts.

  His gaze slowly tracked down my body, shooting electrical surges to my lower belly. My breathing staggered, my nipples hardened, and my whole body turned traitor in the length of time it took for his eyes to return to my face.

  “Can I get some of that?”

  “What?” Was he asking for sex? Because despite the occasional rational thought I had about him, I wasn’t so sure I could keep my treacherous body from leaping on him. Not after last night. But goddamn it, I had to.

  “Coffee?” He tipped his head, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “What did you think I was talking about?”

  “Coffee. Of course.” I cleared my throat and looked at the spilled mess on the linoleum.

  I’d never been a believable liar, but I was pretty certain Sam would know what I’d been thinking even if I was. He was toying with me, making me squirm, often in all the right places. I slid past him to the island, trying not to enjoy the thrill that sparked through my arm when I grazed his side.

  The weight of his gaze followed me, and I concentrated on putting one sensible shoe in front of the other without an extra swing to my hips, on bending over the island for the creamer without arching my back and pushing my ass out, on being an ordinary, un-wicked librarian.

  “We’re almost out of creamer,” I said, because that was the kind of thing a boring, ordinary librarian would say. I turned around and shook the contents of the nearly empty creamer container as if to prove my point, but stopped when I met Sam’s eyes.

  They were lit with a heated desire that evaporated any resolve I thought I had. He prowled toward me, stalking me like some kind of starving animal, and, completely mesmerized, I let him. He cornered me against the island’s edge and posted his hands on either side to lock me inside his warm, velvety cage.

  He leaned down, his wild, longish hair feathering my skin, his breath sliding against my cheek to my ear. “You have no fucking idea how good you taste, Paige. I can’t get last night out of my head.”

  I let out a long exhale as his words turned into an intense tingle between my thighs. I couldn’t get it out of my head, either, no matter how much I wanted to. Despite his skin’s warmth, I shivered.

  “Sam...”

  Whatever was happening, it couldn’t. Whatever I’d done to rekindle the memory of last night, I hadn’t meant to. But a part of me, a tiny, microscopic part, wanted to know what he would do if I kissed him. Right now. Tear my clothes off and ravage me right here in the kitchen?

  Yes, please.

  No.

  I took birth control religiously, so the risk of another pregnancy wasn’t my concern. It was him. He was my main concern, the one I had the least control over, the one who could destroy my trust and fortify the shame-filled walls I’d built around my heart. Like Rick, maybe Sam wasn’t the person he appeared to be. At least Sam didn’t have a telltale white band around his finger where his wedding ring should’ve been, but still. Rick seemed to believe the Cleary brothers were hiding something, something powerful enough to destroy their dad’s political career, and that should have been enough to give me pause if the rest of it wasn’t.

  I couldn’t afford to be carefree, like the stranger who looked exactly like me and who blatantly flirted with Sam at the public library, who’d waited outside his bedroom door last night. She wasn’t me. She hadn’t thrown herself into a forbidden “romance” with a grown man when she was just fifteen. She hadn’t lied to her parents about who the father of her unborn child was. She didn’t try to explain how sorry she was to her baby that she would have to give it up for adoption. She didn’t miss her daughter every single day but was too ashamed, too cowardly, to do anything about it.

  I did.

  Sam dropped kisses down my neck, each slow drag of his lips building a steady throb between my legs. Every breath against my skin gave me a delightful shiver. One of his hands had worked its way to my ass to pu
ll me closer.

  I made a frustrated growl at the back of my throat at the raging war between my body and mind.

  As he dipped lower to my collar bone, I tipped my head to grant him full exposure, reveling in the power of his touch, his soft lips, the hard planes of his muscular arms wrapped around me. My breaths came in short bursts, and soon I no longer needed his help to grind into him.

  It would be so easy to get lost in him and fuck him until I became that stranger, until I forgot all about that unopened email from Mom and forgot about Rick. To let my body make my decisions for me like it was so obviously willing to. To detour from my over-planned path of being a perfectly square librarian. With Sam and his panty-destroying good looks and his devilish tongue, it would be so easy to do.

  But who the hell was I kidding? I’d spent the last seven years swearing to myself I would never veer from the straight road again. Last night had been a mistake, plain and simple, and it couldn't happen again.

  “I have to go.” I shoved him away and stumbled toward my purse and the front door through a haze of desire strong enough to spin me back around if I let it.

  So, I couldn’t let it.

  WHEN I STRODE UP THE stairs to the employee entrance of the Library of Congress, my stomach rattled with the sounds of starvation. I’d fled the house before I’d had a chance to eat breakfast, the most important meal of the day. For someone who was supposed to be smart, my lack of intelligence was startling.

  Nicole already graced the top step, her enormous tie-dyed bag clutched tight at her side. Her red hair had been piled on top of her head in a high bun, revealing her long, graceful neck. A yellow cord wrapped around it and dipped into the front of her thin, butter-colored shirt.

  She smiled and waved. “A bunch of eager beavers, you and me.”

  “So we are,” I said, plopping down next to her. “And I’m not even a morning person. But I skipped breakfast, and I don’t know if I’ll make it until our break at ten. I don’t suppose Mr. Hoffa has anything edible in there.”