by Skye Jordan
She was fucking delirium personified.
Maybe he’d quit tomorrow.
He was torturing her on purpose.
She probably deserved it.
God, this was an impossible situation. A situation she couldn’t even think about because of what he was doing to her. And she didn’t know how he did it. She’d touched herself; this sure as shit never happened.
He growled and pulled his hand from between her legs. Brooke’s sex clenched at his absence, and a slice of irrational panic cut through her. “No, no, no…” she whispered, breathless, pulling at him. “Come back. Come back.”
His gaze was so hot. So edgy. It probably shouldn’t thrill her, but it did. This was a whole different side of the man. And, God, she should walk away. He was right. She should have just let him go this morning.
He had the right to be angry. Worse, he was hurt. She wanted to make it better, but she couldn’t, not right now. The day had taken a physical and emotional toll on Brooke. One only Keaton could make her forget. He wanted it too. Wanted to know she wanted him. Wanted the distance and uncertainty that had built up between them over the day gone. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be here. And he wouldn’t be mad. And he wouldn’t be pulling out his wallet.
The crinkle of foil made her need surge. Made her head go light, and she greedily jerked at the button of his jeans. She’d never wanted anyone like this. Never known she could. Knowing how badly it would hurt when things went south or they both went back to opposite sides of the country, or both, made her press her face to his chest and choke out a groan of distress.
By the time his hand moved under her skirt again, she had his jeans open, her hand around the cotton-covered heat of his erection. He pushed under her panties and between her legs with swift efficiency. A flash of cold shocked her. Made her gasp and brought her head up.
He had an unopened condom packet clenched between his teeth, making her realize he’d opened one of the little packets of lube he carried along with the condoms. Then his fingers glided over her sex, the lube instantly warmed by her body and his hand. Her eyes locked on his, and rough sound came from her throat.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck…” Her muscles clenched and quivered. Her eyes rolled back in her head.
His other hand gripped her jaw and gave her a shake. She gasped, opened her eyes, and curled the fingers of one hand around his wrist. But he pulled away, took the condom from his mouth, and tossed it on the table before closing his fingers on her cheeks again.
“You know why I love touching you?” His eyes were so close, she almost couldn’t focus. His lashes were long, his brown eyes black in the dim light, all the angles of his face sharper with intensity. “Because of this. Because I can watch everything on your face. Watch all the pleasure you get from my touch slide through your eyes. Because I know I’m giving you that, and I can watch every…single…second of it.”
The fact that he derived such a thrill out of delivering pleasure was a wicked turn-on. How many men cared that much about a woman’s pleasure? She didn’t know any. At least not intimately.
“And because your pussy is so…fucking…perfect.”
Slow, deep slides. Shallow, stretching circles. A tug, a pinch. But nothing direct. Nothing repetitive. And nothing that would make her come. She was shaking and panting, leaning her butt against the table because her legs wouldn’t hold her up.
She whined and rocked her hips into his hand.
He laughed. He fucking laughed. Low and rough. And reduced his touch to one finger. “Tell me what you like about it.”
“You’re…so good…at it.”
A hot smile flashed over his face, and he rewarded her with a few direct, maddeningly gentle circles directly over her clit before sliding backward again and pushing inside her. God, it wasn’t near enough. “What else?”
“Naughty.”
“You like naughty?”
“With you.”
His angry lust softened a little. “You want to be naughty tonight, Brooke? Want to be naughty with me?”
Her head dropped back, and a delicious stream of lust and desire and relief and excitement coursed through her. “God, yes.”
A sound ebbed from his throat. His hand tightened on her face and jerked her gaze to his again. His hand stopped teasing and started driving. And where a feather-light touch might have lifted her to climax, this hard, demanding push and pressure worked her into a slow spiral toward implosion.
“Oh God… Oh God… Fuck, fuck, fuck…” She gripped the edge of the table. Fought to find the peak. Whimpered when it still didn’t come. “Mmm… Please, please, please… Don’t stop, don’t stop… Ah…God…”
He dropped his forehead against hers and rasped, “We’re gonna do this all fucking night.”
She dropped her mouth open, panting. Her muscles burned. She was already sweating. “Can’t.”
“Oh yes you can. Because I know you. You’re going to need to come again right after you come now. Once isn’t going to be enough.”
She whimpered. He was right.
“And when I push you back on this table and put my cock in you, you’re going to need to come again. And when I hover over you and kiss you, and kiss you and kiss you, you’re going to beg me to hammer into you.”
She dropped her head back. “Oh my God.”
How had he figured that out in one night? Was she that predictable? Even she didn’t know she was going to do that until he said it. Until it rang so true, she knew it was exactly what she would want.
“But I know,” he said sliding his fingers deep into the folds on either side of her clit and stroking back and forth. Back and forth. Brooke’s breath stuttered. “How easily and hard you come after the first. And since you’re feeling naughty and frustrated tonight, I’ll throw in a twist for you. Literally. We’ll see how you like that. What do you think?”
His fingers tightened on the bud of her clit and gave a little twist one way, then the other.
“Ah…”
Tug, twist, twist, rub.
“Oh my God…”
Tug, twist, twist, rub.
“Ah…ha…ha…God…” She bowed backward as the orgasm took over, ravaging her like a hungry monster, and Keaton just kept feeding it and feeding it.
And just as he predicted, he’d spent so much time building her up, that even the release wasn’t enough to satisfy her completely. Just the feel of his big hand still between her legs made her want more.
She groaned, rocked into him, and opened her eyes to his smug smile. “I hate you.”
“Tell me that again in ten minutes, thirty minutes, ninety minutes, three-hundred minutes—”
She laughed. “Shut up.”
The first smile she’d seen since he’d first set eyes on her in the warehouse that morning quirked his mouth. And it was hot. “Shut up and make you come, right? Shut up and fuck you?”
She was about to tell him that wasn’t what she meant, but he pushed a full, leisurely stroke between her legs that made her eyes cross and slid the lube over her perineum and the pucker of her ass. “Ooooh…”
“Luckily,” he murmured, easing one of her ass cheeks to the edge of the table and settling his fingers into a new and incredibly erotic exploration that tightened her throat. “Those are both extremely easy demands to fill.”
Her breath came in sharp little pants as his touch pulsed surges of heavy pleasure deep into her pelvis. With his free hand, he took her face again and lifted it to his.
“Oh…God… Oh…”
He touched his lips to hers. Licked her upper lip. Sucked it. “Like it?”
She whined in response. Gripped the edge of the table with both hands to stay balanced while she writhed—because she couldn’t hold still. He pulled her mouth to his with a hard hand on her jaw and kissed her. His tongue took hers hungrily with a matching, impatient groan, and he ate at her, while his touch revealed none of that. His fingers continued maddeningly slow and tantalizing circles and strokes, circle
s and strokes, circles and strokes.
Keaton pulled out of the kiss with a breathless, rough “Would you like me doing this while I sucked on you?”
“Oh my God.” The thought was too incredible to fathom. She knew if she said yes, he’d drop to his knees right now. And, wow, part of her wanted that. Bad. But a bigger part was too anxious to get to that hammering part he’d mentioned. God, he made her so…fucking…what? She didn’t know what to call it. But she felt a little rabid. “I need you inside me. So bad.”
“I have the perfect solution.” He withdrew his hand and stepped back.
“What—”
Both his hands disappeared under her skirt and dragged her panties down her legs. Then he gripped the back of her thighs behind her knees and lifted, taking her off her feet while spreading her at the same time.
“Keaton!”
He only lifted her to the edge of the table, but kept a grip on her thighs that turned the flesh white under his fingers. “We interrupt your regularly scheduled naughty program for a little extra naughty…”
He dipped his head beneath her skirt. Wet heat and pressure and movement assaulted her sex in the most decadently erotic way. Words and phrases and sounds spilled out of Brooke. She arched and gripped the table. Her head fell back, mouth dropped open, eyes closed. She cried out, shivered, shook, gritted her teeth.
The orgasm slammed into her and sent her spinning. Her hips lifted and spasmed, and Keaton continued to eat and eat and eat. And orgasm after orgasm after orgasm pummeled, rattled, and ripped through her body.
When Keaton rose from his knees, Brooke lay back on the table, shaking, one hand fisted in the hair she’d pulled over her face, the other white-knuckling the table edge.
“Oh my God…” was all she could manage. Her mind was completely white. She couldn’t think at all. Her body was so completely aroused. Every nerve she owned felt like it was on the surface of her skin, just waiting for Keaton to stroke it. And he planned to do just that, judging by the condom he rolled onto his erection, so ready it arced toward his belly. And Brooke wanted it so much, she could taste it. She covered her mouth. “Oh my God.” What had happened to her? She moved her hand to her tight throat. “Oh my God, want it. Want it now.”
He stepped up to the edge of the table, reached for her, and dragged her to him by the waist. Lifting her, he pulled her upright until they were face-to-face, kissed her slowly, deeply, passionately.
When he pulled out of the kiss, he murmured, “Here’s the naughty twist.”
And he flipped her onto her stomach. For a shocked second, she stared at the wood. Then he tossed her skirt up, and a breeze of cool air licked her skin a millisecond before his hand cracked across her ass.
Brooke’s gasp cut into the quiet and stalled her response. She pushed up on her elbows just as Keaton grabbed the flesh of her ass and hauled her to the table edge, impaling her with his cock.
And all Brooke’s thoughts evaporated. All thoughts other than—perfection, ecstasy, bliss, thick, hot, huge, mine, and orgasm, orgasm, orgasm…motherfucking orgasm.
The first of those orgasms hinted almost immediately. Keaton used the skirt underneath her to slide her across the table while he thrust and hooked one hand over her shoulder to both pull her into him and hold her while he hammered. His cock had to be the perfect size or shape or length or something, because she’d never been able to skyrocket like this. And unlike clitoral orgasms, multiple full-body orgasms weren’t painful. They were…well…or-fucking-gasmic. And, she was discovering, addictive.
Highly addictive.
Like majorly.
In fact, she couldn’t get enough. And when Keaton slowed his thrusts to drag at the straps of her dress and yank the bodice to free her breasts, Brooke rose to her hands and knees and rocked back, pushing his cock deep.
“Oh, yeeeeeees,” she moaned. Gritting her teeth against the need eating her up inside, she used the edges of the table to push herself back and onto his cock. Bang, bang, bang… “Ah God.”
Keaton bent over her, cupped and squeezed her breasts, bit her shoulder, then soothed it with his tongue. “You need it, baby?”
“Need it… God, need it, need it, need—”
He bit her neck, and pain made her complain. Then he released one breast and cracked her ass. Hard.
“Ah!” Her head fell forward, her mind spun with the shock, interrupting her rhythm. The sound split through the room, and the sting sang through her skin and sank deep into her ass cheek. Into her pussy. And melted into a pleasure so intense, she couldn’t begin to describe it. She trembled, and whimpers hummed from her throat.
And when Keaton rasped, “Naughty girls, get spanked,” at her ear, excitement spurted through her body and drenched her pussy.
He growled and dug his hands into her flesh, one at her hip, one at her breast. “That is so…fucking…hot.” He pulled out and slammed into her with a satisfied hum.
Pleasure spilled through her.
“Yes, yes, yes.” She was insanely single-minded. She had to satisfy this craving. It was a necessity. And she put all her focus and energy on driving Keaton’s cock right where it needed to be—hard and deep inside her.
Keaton gripped her hips and hauled her back against him. The rhythmic slap of flesh echoed the spankings he’d given her and shot sparks through her blood again. “Mmm, it’s coming… Don’t stop, don’t stop…”
“You’re fuckin’ crazy sexy.” His hand slid up her spine, collected her hair, and pulled her head back, arching her, forcing her ass higher. “Like that?”
“Yes… Oh God…”
He released one hip to smack the flesh of her ass, then dug his fingers in again and pulled her into him harder.
She cried out as the first wave of the orgasm hit, but kept pushing back into him, “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop… Fuck…” And screamed as the next wave immobilized her.
But Keaton knew exactly what she needed. He wrapped one muscled arm at her hips and continued to thrust, igniting multiple orgasms like starbursts clustered together to explode in strings of ecstasy.
Keaton pressed his face to her neck. “Brooke, baby, so fucking good.”
She closed her fingers in his hair and kissed his temple just as a violent climax slammed through him, drawing forth the brutally serious side of a man she was just realizing she’d only begun to know. The same way she was just coming to realize there was a whole side of herself she hadn’t fully known about. One he’d only just introduced her to.
7
Keaton tried to massage conditioner into Brooke’s hair, but she was so limp, she kept moving every time his hands moved. “The sooner you hold your head still, the sooner you can get out of here and lie down.”
She groaned and let her forehead fall against his chest. He laughed. Then an unexpected rush of emotion swamped him, and he pressed his cheek to her head, wrapped his arms around her, and held her as tight as he could. Her hands circled his waist and hugged him back. And they just stood there like that in the elaborate Four Seasons shower, letting the hot water stream over them.
After a couple of minutes, she turned her head toward him and rested her cheek against his chest. “I’m sorry.”
It was a big apology. An apology for everything that had happened, everything that had gone wrong that day, all that could still go wrong.
He lifted a hand and stroked her wet head. “Me too.”
“It’s just… It’s so complicated.”
The inflection in Brooke’s words made it sound as if her inner landscape were all fire and brimstone. She’d never struck Keaton as the dramatic type, but it had been a year since he’d seen her, and she had been working for Jillian.
“I know Jillian can be self-involved,” he said, “but I’m sure she’ll understand once—”
Brooke pulled back and looked at him a little wild-eyed. “I hope your next words weren’t going to include ‘tell her.’ Because we are absolutely not telling her there is anyt
hing between us.”
Keaton let the rest of his breath release from his lungs and clenched his teeth in frustration as Brooke dropped her head back to rinse her hair. He felt like a rubber band continually being stretched to one extreme only to be snapped the other direction.
“This is ridiculous,” he told her when she pulled her head from under the spray. “It was so long ago, I don’t even remember anything about the night we were together. Like…” He fought to think back. “Hell, I don’t even know how long ago it was. Before she was married to that billionaire asshole.”
“In the limo this morning, she mentioned seeing you a few weeks ago.”
He pounded the shower control with a fist, shutting it off. “If you knew about me in the limo—”
“I didn’t know you were you. I mean…” She rubbed a hand over her face, pushing water from her eyes. “She didn’t say a name.”
He pulled a towel off the top of the door and wrapped it around her from behind, securing her in his arms. He pressed a kiss to her temple. “Unless you’re going to tell me that what we’ve got here is over and we’re never doing this again, which I’d never believe, she’s going to find out eventually. Better to just deal with it up front.”
“It’s not just about her.” She turned in his arms, and the deep apprehension darkening her pretty face worried him. “I need this job. I can’t afford to risk that. And I know her. I’ve been with her day and night for a year. I know what makes her tick. And what makes her snap. And right now, with what’s going on in her personal life, I guarantee even a hint of something between you and me would break her trust in me like a toothpick.”
She pushed the shower door open, grabbed another towel from the rod, and handed it to Keaton. Tightening her own, she waited as he dried off.
“I thought having you in town longer would be a really great chance for us to spend more time together, but…” She ran both hands through her hair and shook her head, misery plain on her face. “How did everything go so bad, so fast? She can make the very best situation so damn miserable.”
