Summer's Temptation

by Ashley Lynn Willis

  “Why’d you break up?”

  “Went to different colleges.” I doubt he cares that both of my relationships ended with infidelity. Not being able to hold onto a man just makes me sound pathetic.

  “Your second was Wyatt?”

  I nod, trying not to let his name darken my mood. Two months, and I still hurt.

  Tyler squeezes my hand. “He was an idiot to dump you for Debbie.”

  “I hate that everyone knows why he left me,” I grumble. Being dumped is bad enough without the rumor mill spreading details about our breakup the same day it happened. For weeks, people I hardly knew were patting me on the back and telling me what a dumbass Wyatt was.

  “People pay attention to you. They know about Wyatt because they want to know what’s going on in your life.”

  I snort and shake my head. “They want to know what’s going on in his life, not mine.”

  “Not true. You were Michelle to his Obama. I hate to say this ‘cause the guy’s a dick, but you two made a good couple. I always thought I’d see you in the paper twenty years from now, standing next to the asshat, and the headline would read, New Governor Elected. There’d be pictures of you playing host at some philanthropy dinner, wearing a hot-as-hell dress. They’d compare you to Jackie Kennedy, and the only reason Wyatt’d win a second term would be because of you.”

  I groan. I thought the same thing. Well, not the Jackie Onassis part or the second term part, but the rest is spot on. I’ve got to work on my transparency. I sit up higher, determined to change the subject before we get bogged down in my breakup. I smile, though it’s feeble at best. “Who did you lose your virginity to?”

  A lost look bears down on him full force, making it appear as if a wall has been shoved between him and the world. His expression darkens, jaw firm, lips smashed together. He forces a smile from a face that seems incapable of anything but a scowl. “It’s hazy.”

  “Everyone remembers their first time,” I say, prodding him.

  The words are barely out of my mouth before he somehow manages to roll my body beneath his in one smooth move. I don’t even have time to squeal. I’m staring up at him, trying to figure out how I went from sitting against the headboard to lying down with his broad chest pressed against mine.

  “Tyler—”

  He silences me with a kiss, sweet, delicate, and distracting. His tongue glides over my bottom lip, pausing to delve over the slick skin just beyond, then he dives into my mouth. He tastes like stale beer and cigarettes, something I usually hate. With Tyler, anything else would be wrong. I spar with his tongue until his lips press more forcefully against mine, demanding I take him seriously. I comply when he kisses me deeper, harder, hungrier.

  I barely notice his knees nudging my legs open until he presses against my sensitive flesh, jeans to skin. The texture is rough and grating. I hate it. I want skin to skin, and with eager fingers, I find his belt buckle and unlatch it.

  “You’re sneaky,” I mumble, kissing the dark stubble on his jaw and following the hard angle to his lips.

  He lifts to allow easy access to his zipper. “Does that bother you?”

  I shake my head, my lips brushing softly against his. “No. I like it.”

  His kiss has drawn me from nervous to ready in a second flat. It bodes well for our arrangement that he can incite me so quickly. I pinch the metal tab of his zipper and lower it one deliberately slow rung at a time.

  He growls and cups my hand. “Stop torturing me.” He jerks my hand down, dragging the zipper to the metal stop.

  “You’re not just sneaky. You’re impatient too.” But so am I.

  I reach inside and palm the bulge pressing against his boxers. He groans as I grasp the thick width of him and run my hand to the tip. I gasp, stunned by the sheer length of him that ends at his belly button. Combined with his width, he’s going to be an intimidating conquest.

  “You okay, cupcake?” he asks, assaulting my neck with rough kisses.

  “Fine,” I squeak.

  He lifts long enough for me to twine my fingers into the hem of his shirt and pull it up. It passes between us, up over his head, and I throw it on the floor. That’s where I want the rest of his clothes, but before I can slide his jeans down his hips, he takes my mouth again. His lips moves languidly and forcefully all at the same time. The combination’s intoxicating.

  He kneels between my legs, his body hovering a few inches over mine, I’m about to protest by pulling him flush with me when I realize why he’s distancing himself from me. His hand slides between my breasts, his knuckles grazing my bare skin as he inches my robe open. He stops at the sash tied at my waist. Slowly, he pulls one side of the ribbon toward my hipbone. The bow unravels.

  He leaves my mouth and tugs the robe away from my shoulder, trailing kisses across my collarbone. His lips seductively press against my skin. “This is like unwrapping a Christmas present.” He draws in a deep breath, and I feel the inhalation of air all the way down to my toes. “The expensive kind my parents couldn’t afford.”

  My breathing’s erratic, but I can still tease him. “You asked for a high-dollar prostitute?”

  He chuckles against my neck. “A sixty-inch flat screen. Never got the damn thing until I saved up for it myself.”

  “Oh, you poor darling.”

  He rests his forehead against mine and stares at me with mischievous, sparkling blue eyes. “You’ve never experienced porn until you’ve seen it on my TV.”

  I bite my bottom lip, trying not to laugh. “You’re killing the moment, Tyler.”

  His gaze goes to my lips. “I want to try that.”

  I have no idea what he’s talking about until he nibbles on my bottom lip.

  “Mmm, I could do this all night”—his tongue glides across my nipped skin, soothing it—“but I’ve got a present to unwrap.”

  His fingers slip beneath my robe, sliding the silk open. I’m overcome with unexpected anxiety. Only two men have seen me naked, and they undressed me gradually over months. Their hands had explored every inch of my body before they took off a single item of clothing, and their touch bred familiarity. When I finally lay naked before them, it felt as inviting and comfortable as sinking into a warm bath.

  Right now, I’m anything but comfortable. I grab his wrists before he can unwrap more of my body. I must be as stiff as a board beneath him because my every muscle’s on lockdown.

  “Easy, cupcake,” he says, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Breathe.”

  I draw in a long breath, not realizing I’ve been holding it. My eyes are shut tight, and I bite my bottom lip as I ease my grasp on him.

  His hand skims my breastbone soothingly. “One more breath.”

  I do as he asks, willing myself to relax.

  “We don’t have to do this,” he whispers.

  “I want to.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Positive.” I remind myself that I chose this.

  His hands glide over my skin, tugging the robe away. He’s not kissing me anymore, too busy exploring with hands and eyes. My robe is completely open, the fabric resting at my sides. He’s not even touching me, and I fight the urge to hide myself. My fingernails bite into his skin as I come to terms with what’s really causing my unease. Tyler doesn’t love me.

  A man who loves a woman overlooks her imperfections. Maybe that was why I hadn’t felt timid being undressed in front of Jeremy and Wyatt. This is different. Tyler’s seen so many girls, and since I’m not being filtered through loving eyes, how can I possibly compare? I keep my eyes squeezed shut and pray we can get back to kissing and caressing soon. Being on display for a guy I hardly know sucks.

  In my mind, I catalog all the faults he’s noticing—hips that are too wide, a waist not narrow enough, a right breast that’s a little bigger than the left.

  The belittling voice in my head quiets when I hear him say, “Jesus, Cassie. Jenna Jameson would be jealous.”

  I open my eyes to see his gaze flicking from on
e part of my body to the next and back again, as if he’s not sure what he likes best. His fingertip traces a nipple, my belly button, then a hipbone. As he’s outlining body parts, he drags his bottom lip into his mouth, closes his eyes, and moans as if he’s in pain. It’s the most real sound I’ve ever heard, and it says everything I need to hear. I’m beautiful. I’m perfect. I’m desirable.

  Just like that, I understand why girls seek his approval. He’s just shot me up with Tyler’s self-esteem steroids. Every insecurity I’ve ever clung to disappears as if it never existed. I know if I look in the mirror now, I’d see smooth expanses of olive skin, voluptuous hips, and real breasts with the tiny flaws that make them more beautiful than silicone ever could.

  I want to make him feel as good as he’s made me. “Stop talking and kiss me.”

  My attempt at a seductive tone must work because when he opens his eyes, the blue is gone, replaced with pitch black that sends a shiver up my spine. His jeans are still on, fly open. I palm his erection through the thin fabric, but he grabs my hand, moving it aside.

  “There’s something I’ve wanted to do to you for a long time.” He shifts lower and traces the edge of my ear with his tongue.

  “What’s that?”

  He sucks my earlobe, teases it with his tongue before letting go. “Not telling. But no more kisses until I get what I want.”

  His mouth is at my neck, my shoulder, my arm. Lower. He drags his tongue across a nipple. Draws it in. Lets the pebbled flesh pop out. Lower. His lips brush my rib cage. He circles delicate kisses around my belly button. His hands cup my hips. He drags me to the end of the bed and kneels on the floor. Lower he goes.

  I close my eyes and focus on the roughness of his stubble sliding across my skin and the soft warmth of his tongue. With nothing but my senses to guide me, I smell my citrus body spray and the lavender of my sheets. I hear our panting, his sucking, and the mewls I can’t suppress. I can still taste Tyler on my tongue. God, I want him to kiss me again.

  I have no time to hold onto that thought because his tongue flicks a part of me that demands all my attention. “Oh, God!”

  Tyler’s warm breath blows across my wet skin as he laughs, then he gets back to business. I struggle to remain composed, threading my fingers through his hair and gasping for breath. I prop up on my elbows to watch him move between my legs. Black eyes watch me back.

  His mouth works a steady rhythm against me, and in a matter of seconds, I fall over the edge of an endless chasm. All the way down, ecstasy slashes at me. Jagged walls of pure pleasure tear and rip me until I’m nothing but one blissful free-fall. I slam to the earth a sated mess and breathing like an asthmatic smoker, sweating, hair tangled. My head lolls on a neck incapable of supporting it.

  “Wow.” It’s the only word I’m capable of forming.

  Tyler’s lips curve up in his signature one-sided cocky grin. “Now I can kiss you again.”

  I shake my head. I have skills of my own I’d like him to experience right now, but I’m so relaxed I can hardly move. I draw in a long, much-needed breath, hoping it’ll give me the energy to sit up. No such luck. I’m still as boneless as a jellyfish. Delightfully exhausted, I plop back, close my eyes, and drift.

  “I don’t think so,” Tyler says, rousing me as he kisses up my stomach.

  I open my eyes, having no idea what he’s talking about.

  “You’re not the first woman I’ve put into an ecstasy-induced coma, but you can sleep later,” he says against my belly button.

  I slap him upside the head. “Stop being so cocky.”

  He chuckles. “It’s hard when you’re me.” He rises and slips off his jeans so he’s only wearing boxers. They leave nothing to the imagination. With his hands on his hips, he says, “Speaking of hard.”

  I sit up straight, unable to look away. Feeling his erection and seeing it are two totally different things. It’s even bigger than I’d thought. “Dear God, no wonder you’re so arrogant!” Jeremy and Wyatt hadn’t been small men, but Tyler’s in a whole ‘nother category. I’m not even sure he’ll fit. “You should put a disclaimer on that thing. Warning, contents might be too big for general use.”

  He bends over me and weaves his fingers through my hair. “I’ve been turned down for that very reason.”

  I don’t doubt it. I gasp when he tugs my hair, forcing my gaze to the ceiling. It stings a little, but I forget the pain as soon as he hovers in my line of vision.

  “Are you going to turn me down, Cassie?”

  “Not a chance. I like a challenge.”

  His mouth lands on mine hard. I can’t breathe, can’t see anything past his eyes staring into mine. I’ve never kissed with my eyes open, but with Tyler, I don’t want to miss anything. Eager for more, I slip my fingers under the waistband of his boxers. I sweep my fingers toward his hips and tug the boxers down. His length is in my hand before the boxers hit the floor.

  Tyler sucks in a shuddered breath and groans, pressing firmer into my palm. His kiss falters, and he slides his hands under my arms then pushes me to the head of the bed. I can’t help but peek down as I slide across the comforter. Yep, he’s huge. I look lower, noticing a tattoo on his inner thigh. At his angle, I can’t tell what it is, but I think it’s a name starting with the letter B. The room goes dark before I can get a better look.

  “Hey, I was examining the goods. Why’d you turn the lamp off?”

  He nuzzles my neck. “I forgot to add another rule to your list.”

  “Oh?”

  “Mmhmm.” His lips trace my jaw. “I’m shy.”

  I rasp my nails down the smooth skin of his back. “That’s the biggest load of crap I’ve ever heard.”

  “Rule eight: no lights when we have sex.”

  I still beneath him. “You’re serious?”

  “Yep. But don’t worry, you won’t notice the dark. I promise.”

  I want to ask him why he’d make a stupid rule like that, but his mouth lands on mine, and he kisses me deeply, passionately, greedily. I forget everything until the blunt head of him presses against my opening.

  “Condom?” I ask.

  “Already on.”

  I don’t know when he managed that. He certainly didn’t have one on when I checked out the goods, but I don’t dwell on that. All I can think is how I’ve never given myself to someone I don’t love. This next moment will change everything. Once he’s inside me, there’s no going back.

  His forehead presses against mine. “Last chance to change your mind, cupcake.”

  I lift my hips, nudging the head of his shaft inside me. “I need you.” This is how it has to be if I want to get on with my life.

  He pushes into me slowly. I expect pain. I’ve never been with someone his size, but I’m so turned on, he slides in easily.

  When he’s fully sheathed, he stops, his breath hot and fast against my neck. “You okay?”

  “Fine.” I dig my fingers into his backside and pray he moves soon. Otherwise I’m flipping him over and taking the lead.

  He thrusts once and stops, his breaths coming faster. “Thank god for rule seven ‘cause I’m not going to last long.”

  I didn’t have a rule seven. Then I remember the one he added a week ago. When you call me, I can have you as many times as I want.

  “This is going to be a long night,” he adds, thrusting deeply.

  He finds his rhythm, kissing and sucking my bottom lip as he moves. I wrap my legs around his waist, perfectly angling my body to meet each plunge, and I hope he’s right. I want this night to last forever, because I’m already heading toward the peak, and I never want to come down.

  The next morning, a God-awful cramp rips through my womb, but I can’t exactly complain. The cause was a half-dozen earth-shattering orgasms at Tyler’s skilled hands. I groan and curl up on my side. One weary hand pats the bed, searching for him, but it’s just me, alone and wrapped in a sheet.

  Underneath me, the bed feels scratchier than normal. Cradling my aching stom
ach, I open an eye. No wonder the bed feels weird. The sheets are missing, and I’m lying directly on the mattress. Another cramp forces a moan from my lips. Before I can stifle the sound, someone knocks on my door.

  “Are you decent?” Liz asks.

  I glance down. I have on panties and a T-shirt. “Yeah.”

  The door opens, and Liz strolls in with a bottle of ibuprofen and a glass of water. God bless the woman. She’s a saint.

  She shakes the bottle of pills, the maraca-like sound filling the room. “I figured you could use these.” She’s halfway toward my bed when she stops, her eyes widening. “Jesus, Cassie. I figured this room saw some damage last night, but it’s a fucking war zone in here.”

  After propping up on one elbow, I glance around, unsurprised by what I see. On the floor is the wrought-iron lamp that usually sits on my nightstand. It looks intact, but the bulb is busted into a million pieces that lay cradled in the lampshade. That happened the second time we’d had sex. Tyler had flipped me on my stomach to do it doggy-style, and in his haste, he lost his balance and fell backward into the lamp. We laughed about it until he found his mark and drove me toward my third orgasm of the night.

  I lift my gaze to the yellow curtains that are practically ripped from the wall. They hang precariously from a curtain rod that’s escaped the bracket meant to secure it over the window. I smile smugly. That happened when I’d come back from the bathroom and Tyler had tackled me to the wall, driving into me so hard I had to grab the curtain for support. Jammed between Tyler and the wall, I’d had my fourth orgasm of the night, and what a glorious orgasm it had been. My temperature rises just thinking about it.

  Glancing to the side, I notice my star chart is torn in half. Well, damn. I don’t remember how that happened. No, wait, I do. After the wall sex, we’d fallen to the floor in a tangle of limbs. I remember hearing paper tear, but I’d been too sated to care. We’d pulled the comforter to the floor and lain there for at least a half hour. Then Tyler was ready for round four and my best orgasm of all.