Take Me, Sir

by M. S. Parker

  “I can handle myself,” she snapped at me, then focused back on the man. “Take your hand off me, or I will take you down.”

  I felt the man tense, and I knew Kyndall had said the exact wrong thing. I didn't know who he was, but I knew his type. Every city and every country had dozens like them. The people who thought they were too rich or too powerful or too important to follow the rules. I had no doubt that Kyndall could handle herself, but this guy didn't strike me as the type to take a threat or assault and walk away.

  “You're going to want to think hard about what you do next,” I said quietly. “If you walk away now, I'm going to stay right here with the lady. But if you decide to threaten or try to harm her, you and I will have more than an exchange of words. And I guarantee you will find me more than a match.”

  A muscle in the man's jaw clenched, but he released Kyndall's arm, and that was all I cared about. He shot another malevolent look her way, then went back to the car.

  “Are you okay?” I put my hand on Kyndall's arm, keeping my touch light.

  “I'm fine, Dean.” She sounded annoyed but didn't shake off my hand.

  “What was that about?” I asked as the car behind me pulled away.

  “Nothing.” She made a dismissive gesture, her eyes narrowing as she looked up at me. “I meant what I said. I can handle myself.”

  “I didn't mean to imply otherwise,” I said as I dropped my hand. “I would've stepped in no matter who was involved. No man should put his hands on a woman like that.” I gave her what I hoped was a charming smile. “I happen to be a gentleman.”

  She raised an eyebrow, but her expression was a lot more open than it had been a few seconds ago. “I don't know of many gentlemen who can do to me what you did the last time we saw each other.”

  She had no idea that what I wanted to do to her now was a hell of a lot less gentlemanly than anything we'd already done.

  “Did I not insist that you come first?” I teased. “If that isn't the mark of a gentleman, I don't know what is.”

  She laughed, and the tension between us shifted to something infinitely more pleasant. “How'd you know how to find me here?”

  I frowned, confused. “I didn't. Why are you here?”

  “I live here.” She gestured to the building.

  I suddenly began to believe in fate. I stuck my hands in my pockets and smiled. “I really had no idea. I suppose we have to take this as a sign that we were supposed to meet again.”

  “Maybe.” She reached out and brushed her hand across my chest.

  My cock stood up and took notice.

  “But seriously, what brought you here?” She stiffened slightly, as if something just occurred to her. “If you were here to see someone else, that's okay–”

  “I wasn't,” I said quickly. “I mean, I was, but not like that.” I ran my hand through my hair. “Bollocks.”

  She laughed, relaxing again. “It's okay, Dean. No explanation needed.”

  “I was here to see our mutual friends,” I said.

  Her entire body went still. “What mutual friends?”

  Okay, I was a bit confused now. She had to know that she was living in the same building as Dalton and Juliette, right? “Dalton and Juliette. You were at their wedding. I assumed you knew them.”

  “You're friends with Dalton and Juliette.” She took a step back, her expression unreadable. “So when you brought that gift to the house...you're friends of the Breckenridges, then?”

  It was an odd question, but I answered it anyway. “Cross Phillips and I met a couple years ago. When I moved to the city, he and Hanna introduced me to Dalton and Juliette.”

  “Shit,” she muttered.

  “Is something wrong?”

  Things had been going so well, but I got the feeling something happened in the last couple minutes to make it go sideways. Still, it didn't stop me from wanting to kiss her.

  She crossed her arms over her chest, the movement enhancing her impressive breasts. “You don't know who I am, do you?”

  “You're Kyndall.” I really didn't understand what was going on here.

  Her lips twisted into a strange smile. “Kyndall Letlow.”

  It took a moment for it to sink in.

  Letlow.

  As in Dalton Letlow.

  Shit.

  “You're Dalton's...”

  “Sister,” she said. “Little sister, actually.”

  “Bollocks.”

  She laughed, a harsh quality to the sound. “Yeah, that pretty much sums it up.”

  Shit! I didn't have any siblings, but I was pretty sure I'd be pissed if someone fucked my little sister. If someone wanted to do the things I wanted to do...

  “I'll go now.”

  I started to turn away, but she grabbed my arm. “Why?”

  “Why?” I stared down at her. “Your brother is one of my friends, and he'd kick my ass – well, he'd try anyway – and it's not...”

  “He's not the boss of me,” she said. “I do what I want.”

  This was a bad idea. A really bad idea.

  But I did it anyway.

  “And what do you want, Kyndall?”

  Her eyes locked onto mine. “You.”

  Chapter Seven

  Kyndall

  I didn't consider sleeping with Dean a mistake. We'd had fun, and there hadn't been any strings attached. No personal connections.

  But now that I knew that Dean was friends with my brother, things changed. Or, rather, it should've changed things. Dalton hadn't been around me much when I'd started dating, but he'd still always been overprotective of me, which I was pretty sure would translate to dating too. I had a feeling that it wouldn't matter how good of a guy Dean was, Dalton wouldn't want the two of us dating, much less hooking up.

  But none of that changed the fact that I wanted him again. Maybe one more night would get him out of my system. So when Dean asked me what I wanted, I answered honestly.

  His eyes had darkened the moment I told him that he was what I wanted, confirming for me that this wasn't one-sided. I ran my hand up his arm, smiling as I felt the muscles twitch under my palm. Okay, maybe one more night wouldn't be enough, but it'd be a start.

  “Want to see my new place?”

  “I'm not so sure that's a good idea,” Dean said. He looked like it almost pained him to say it, and I knew he was trying to do what he thought was the right thing.

  To hell with that.

  “I told you,” I ran my hand down his chest and hooked my fingers in the waistband of his pants, “Dalton's not the boss of me.”

  His hand wrapped around my wrist, sending fire licking across my skin. “I should walk away.”

  “But you don't want to.” I didn't make it a question. I wasn't one of those women who thought that every man wanted her, but I could tell that Dean did, so unless he left, or flat out told me that he didn't want me, I was going to press the issue.

  “No, I don't.” His voice had that low timber to it that made me instantly and embarrassingly wet.

  “So come up and see my apartment,” I said. “I'm an adult, Dean, and I make my own decisions. Now, are you going to come upstairs, or do I have to find someone else to show me a good time?”

  I had a moment to see something fierce flash across his eyes before his mouth came down on mine, hard and hungry. His grip on my wrist tightened as his tongue swept between my lips. I leaned into him, moaning at the taste of fine wine and him. It didn't seem possible that a single kiss could make me feel so much. It was literally making my knees weak.

  I dropped my free hand to his crotch, felt how hard he was. He made a rough, desperate sound, and pushed his hips against my palm. My pussy throbbed, and I was almost reckless enough to unzip him right there. I needed him inside me, and if getting my hands on him was the only way to do that, I'd do it.

  “I can't,” Dean said as he pulled his mouth from mine.

  For a minute, I thought he was going to walk away, and the disappointment that went thr
ough me was stronger than I liked. I could find someone else like I said, but I didn't want someone else.

  “I can't do the right thing.” He cupped my face, ran his thumbs across my cheekbones. “I've always thought of myself as a strong man, but when it comes to you...” His voice trailed off as he brushed his lips across mine, eyes closed as he made his decision. “Let's go.”

  I took his hand, threading my fingers between his, and led him toward the door. He was right about the smart thing being the two of us just going our separate ways. Dalton would never have to know about the two of us hooking up, and we could stick to polite greetings any time we happened to run into each other, eventually even becoming friends.

  I might've been a genius, but that didn't always mean I did the smart thing, and right now, I wasn't going to listen to my head at all.

  I smiled at the doorman and led Dean to the elevator. An older couple got on with us, but that didn't stop Dean from sliding his arm around my waist and pulling me back against him. I could feel the hard length of him against my hip and had to resist the urge to roll my hips.

  His fingers splayed out across my stomach, and he lowered his mouth to my ear. “Do you have any idea the sorts of things I want to do to you, love?”

  I swallowed hard as I shook my head. Suddenly, I had a feeling that there was a lot more to Dean than I realized...and that I'd gotten myself in way over my head.

  “If we were alone here, I'd have you pinned against the wall right now.” He kept his voice quiet, but there was nothing soft about it. “Cup those gorgeous breasts of yours and tease your nipples until they're nice and tight. Grind against you until you're wet and panting.”

  He didn't need to do any of that to make me wet. I was already there.

  “When we get to your apartment, I'll push up your dress, rip off whatever panties you're wearing, and lick you until you scream.”

  My heart was racing, breath coming in harsh pants.

  “Then I'll bend you over the closest surface and fuck you until we both come.”

  He nipped my earlobe, and I barely managed to stop a whimper.

  “And that's just to get things started.”

  Fuck me. I was definitely in over my head.

  “But since we're not alone,” he continued, “I suppose I shall just have to be content with telling you that I haven't been able to stop thinking about how you felt wrapped around my cock. That it was your mouth and cunt I imagined every time I had to stroke myself to release in the shower this week.”

  If he kept this up, I was fairly certain I'd come before we got to the apartment.

  And then the doors dinged open on my floor, and we followed the couple into the hallway. His hand rested lightly on my hip as I punched in my key code to the door, but the moment we stepped inside, his grip tightened, and he spun me around. I caught my breath, surprised even though he'd told me what he was going to do.

  My back hit the door, slamming it closed, and he buried his hands in my hair, leaned his body against mine, pinning me in place. His kiss was just as fierce as it had been outside, all tongue and teeth. It made my legs tremble, my skin hot.

  I moaned as his lips moved across my jaw and down my neck. Then he was on his knees, pushing up my dress. I felt a slight sting as he ripped my panties off, but then his mouth was on me, and that was all I cared about.

  He held me firm as he ran his tongue between my legs, bold strokes without any hesitation or gentleness. The part of me that was still riding high from the adrenaline of the game and the confrontation with Stanley didn't want Dean to be gentle. I wanted the man who'd told me what he wanted to do to me. I wanted it all. Needed it.

  As heat and pleasure coiled inside me, it looked like I was getting exactly that. His lips circled my clit, and I moaned, digging my fingers into his hair. He sucked hard on that little bundle of nerves, making me push my hips closer to his mouth, eager for more. And he complied, increasing suction until it was almost painful.

  “Please, Dean.” I pulled on his hair, and he raised his head, his mouth glistening with my arousal.

  “Please, what, love?”

  “Make me come. Fuck me. I don't care, just do one of them.”

  One corner of his mouth quirked up, and his eyes locked on mine as he pushed his middle two fingers inside me. I let out a strange yelping sound, then swore as he twisted the long digits. He fucked me with short, almost brutal thrusts, not quite hurting me, but close enough that I rode the line between pain and pleasure until pleasure won out and I came.

  My knees buckled, but he caught me before I hit the floor. He picked me up, carrying me over to the small love seat I'd purchased last year. Instead of laying me down on it, however, he set my feet back on the floor and bent me over the arm, flipping up my dress. My brain was still reeling, so I only half-registered the sound of a zipper and a wrapper tearing.

  He buried himself inside me without warning or finesse, driving out a half-strangled cry. Not that there wasn't skill involved. It took a hell of a lot of skill to do what he was doing without hurting me in a bad way. The good way stretched me around him as he filled me over and over with hard, deep strokes.

  “Come on, love, one more time before I go.”

  I nodded, as if there was anything I could actually do to make it happen. I was having a hard enough time simply staying on my feet. This wasn’t what I had in mind when I asked him up to my apartment, but I wasn't going to complain, not with so many intense sensations coursing across my nerves, and pleasure coiling into something hot and tight low in my belly.

  Without missing a single stroke, one hand slid around my hip to find my throbbing clit. I squeezed my eyes closed as he made brisk circles over and around it, each pass almost harsh, keeping me on that near-painful edge. It felt like every inch of my body was on fire, overly aware of each touch, feeling more than should've been possible. Every movement pushed me closer until I finally exploded. He followed me quickly, his body stiffening behind me.

  We rested there, neither of us talking or moving as our breathing slowed. As I came down, I realized that we hadn't undressed at all. The only piece of clothing that'd been removed was my panties, and they were somewhere over by the door. I still had my shoes on, and I was pretty sure Dean hadn't even taken off his pants.

  I tried not to be disappointed as he pulled out. I hadn't asked for the night. A quickie that had gotten me two orgasms wasn't anything to blow off. Besides, it'd done what I'd wanted and released a lot of the tension I'd been feeling. A long, hot bath, and I'd probably be able to sleep tonight after all.

  Dean's hands were gentle as he helped me stand up, smoothing down my dress so I wasn't completely exposed. I looked up at him as he leaned down and brushed his lips across mine, his eyes glowing a rich, deep blue.

  “Now that we've taken the edge off, we can go about things a bit slower.”

  Oh.

  The night continued to defy my expectations.

  Even though I'd led the way through my apartment, showing Dean each room, I felt like I was following him. Once we'd reached my bedroom, there was no doubt as to who was in charge.

  Which was why, ten minutes later, I was laying on my bed, hands gripping the headboard, legs spread wide, while Dean stared down at me like a kid in a candy store. A hungry kid.

  And I was definitely the candy.

  “Keep your hands on that headboard until I give you permission to let go,” he ordered. “I plan on fucking you one more time tonight, but not until you beg.”

  One part of me wanted to resist, tell him that there was no way in hell that I'd be begging, but I knew it was all posturing. Having had him inside me twice hadn't been nearly enough to satisfy my appetite, and I was already willing to do almost anything to have it again.

  Including telling him where my vibrator was when he asked. I'd had a guy once make a joke about fuzzy handcuffs, but not a single sexual experience of mine had included a guy using a toy, especially not one of mine. If I'd ever thought about i
t, I probably would've said that since I got enough use out of mine when I was alone, I'd never considered using it with someone else. Now, however, it looked like I was going to find out whether or not it would be worth using with another person.

  The silicone shaft slid into me easily, not nearly filling me as much as Dean's cock had, but when the vibrating tip brushed against my clit, I still gasped. One of the reasons I bought this one had been for the duel functions it offered, clitoral stimulation and penetration. I'd always preferred both.

  “When you're ready for me to fuck you, beg,” he instructed. “Not a simple please, but real, true pleading.”

  As he turned on the vibrator, sending a shudder through me, I wondered if I should just start begging now. Then I looked at his face, and something primal in me responded to the light in his eyes. He didn't want me to make it easy on him...or on myself. And even though we weren't in a relationship, I wanted to please him.

  So I gave myself over to it – to him – determined to last as long as I could. When he lowered his head to my breasts, licking across first one nipple, and then the other, I arched my back, wanting more. The cool air made my wet nipples tighten into hard pebbles, and when he flicked them with his fingers, my body jerked at the new sensation. He repeated the movement, and my fingers flexed on the headboard.

  He played my body like a master musician with his instrument, each touch intended to maximize what I was feeling. Short thrusts with the vibrator that gave my sensitive clit barely enough time to register the change before it was being stimulated again. His mouth on mine, tongue caressing mine so that I could taste myself, teeth biting at my lips until they felt swollen. Then tongue and teeth on my breasts, nipping and licking across my skin and over my nipples. Fingers tugging and twisting until the darker flesh was standing up. Touch hard enough to bruise, but not damage. I'd feel every inch of it tomorrow, and it would only be that much sweeter knowing how well I'd done.

  My first climax hit me out of nowhere, rolling over me like a wave. His teeth latched onto my nipple as he pushed the vibrator as deep as it could go, the part pressing against my clit hard enough to make me swear, but none of that took me out of my orgasm. If anything, it caught me tighter, pulled me deeper, until I felt like I'd been caught in some sort of undertow, drowning in pleasure so intense that it brought tears to my eyes.