Strictly Confidential

by Lynda Aicher

  He added a second finger, the thickness sensitizing her vagina with the temptation of more, every thrust slow yet hard. The precise movements were maddeningly intense but not. The urge to scream in frustration was countered by the luxury of letting go. Her blood pulsed with the abandon he’d somehow tapped into with just a look, a touch, a command.

  She wrapped a leg around his thigh to get closer and give him more access at once. His thumb worked her clit with every plunge of his fingers. The insistent drum of her heart throbbed each beat in her sore nipple, which ached for more abuse while the other wept for even a small touch.

  “Matt,” she whispered when he finally freed her mouth. She tried to chase his retreating lips, already missing the intoxicating flavor of passion and demand, but his firm hold kept his mouth just out of reach.

  His fingers stilled inside her, the unmoving fullness a tempting torture all its own. She longed to yank his tie free and shirt off, to dig her fingers into his chest and run them over his skin. Yet she loved the strength he exuded in his suit.

  A symbol of authority when worn with confidence. The uniform of success and, on some men, power.

  It was a weakness she barely acknowledged, one she’d never give away either. But she could secretly revel in her little fetish and let the rush fill her.

  He slipped his hand down her neck, a wake of goose bumps shimmering behind the deliberate movement. The light grip on her throat forced her chin up, her breaths short. His expression didn’t change despite the clear statement he was making.

  The power belonged to him.

  Old fears rushed forward before she let her resistance go, a strange peace settling in when her hands hung loose at her sides. It eased through her on a whisper of surprise and relief.

  He could have it—the power—for now.

  His curse was mouthed, but she read it clearly. Desire raged in a flash of heat in his eyes, his hold tightening with a quick flinch. He slid his fingers from her, leaving her empty and wanting.

  She sucked in a breath when he trailed those fingers up her abdomen, her juices tracing a wet path to her neglected nipple. He held his finger poised over the bud until it throbbed in a stinging cry for attention. But he swiveled his head, lifting his fingers to suck them between his lips.

  His eyelids lowered in time with her moan. Her mouth watered, and though she’d never had an overt desire to taste herself, she did now. It tore at her throat and dug at a longing she didn’t try to understand.

  His nostrils flared, that wonderful rumble emanating from his chest as he eased his fingers from his mouth. He said nothing as he slid his fingers deep within her once again.

  Her leg trembled, and she gripped the window ledge for support. Her muscles tightened around the intrusion, relief quickly shifting to need.

  His intent was clear when he slipped his fingers from her. That dark desire flared when he held them over her lips. The pungent scent of her juices hit her nose with the blatant declaration of her desire. It pumped into her awareness and set off a chain reaction back to her pussy. Juices dampened her panties as she parted her lips in anticipation.

  “You are so damn…”

  She lost track of his words when he slid his fingers into her mouth. She sucked on them immediately, eyes falling closed. A wild hunger overtook all logic as she lapped up every harsh drop. The bitterness coated her mouth yet she savored the taste without questioning why.

  Her head buzzed in a static state of nothing that left her free to simply do. Be. In this moment, she could give herself to him without recriminations—especially her own.

  Her eyes flew open when she was spun around, her hands coming up to catch herself against the glass. Her heart raced in a mix of fear and excitement when he ripped her panties down her legs, but she automatically helped him as she kicked them free.

  He pressed her into the window, that damn ledge cutting a sharp path across her hips as it forced her bottom out. Her nipples contracted against the cool touch of the glass, yet that same coolness was refreshing on her forehead.

  He slid the hard line of his erection up her butt crack, sending off another rush of hunger. The material of his suit brushed her skin in a tempting reminder of the power he held, that she’d given him. It hummed through her need and mellowed her thoughts in ways she couldn’t explain.

  “Can you see them?” he growled near her ear. “Down there. Walking on the path. Going about their lives?” He dug one hand between them, the other coming around to pinch her nipple. The sore one. The one that already throbbed from his abuse. Pain laced its way to her pussy on a path of pure joy that countered every natural instinct.

  “Answer me, Kennedy.”

  His demand snapped in to pluck at her base need to please. To be praised. To be…seen.

  “Yes,” she answered, her roiling emotions camouflaged behind the firm timbre she forced into her voice. “I see them.”

  He teased his fingers through her pussy, spreading her juices over every fold and crease. She bit her lip to hold in her moan, but her knees still dipped, hips rolling back.

  “What if they look up?” The naughty rumble behind his words enticed her to imagine that very thing. “Would they see you plastered against the window?” He circled a finger over her anus, pressing slightly.

  A shocked cry slipped free. Her muscles clenched around the unexpected touch. He twisted her nipple, her thoughts successfully pulled to the spark of agony that had somehow morphed to pleasure. She wanted more of the erotic torture when logic said she shouldn’t.

  “Would they see me taking you?” The digit slid deeper. “Fucking you?” His voice deepened on the last question, his own need scrambling through.

  What if? She stared at the people far below and tried to picture what they’d see. The passion or the force? The wild depravity or the control? Her being taken or willingly giving?

  “I’d love it.” The truth slid free without thought. The rush of being claimed so thoroughly, of owning every moment of it, sang through her on another wave of breathless release.

  “I could fuck you here,” he taunted, pumping his finger in short strokes that hit every nerve ending designed to protect that opening.

  “You could,” she choked out, her mind scrambling to process her response even as he growled his approval. She wasn’t a stranger to anal play. She’d done it to herself plenty of times. But offering it up to a man whose last name she still didn’t know? That was new.

  But so was this entire night.

  She hunted for even a hint of regret—about any of it—and found none. Would it come later? She didn’t care, not now.

  She was thirty-six years old. She could get screwed against a hotel window if she wanted to. And she so wanted to.

  Her nipple throbbed in relief when he suddenly released it. Her mind fuzzed out on the pulsing beat until he stroked a finger over her clit. She jerked, breath catching as he upped his movements. Want crested to a frantic obsession under his knowing touch. The continued tease of her anus timed with the equal attention to her clit had her pussy clenching to be filled.

  Once again, the obvious neglect only intensified the ache. Would he fuck her?

  “What if someone is watching from one of those darkened windows?”

  Panic spiked a snarled knot in her chest that had her frantically searching every window in her sight. Logic didn’t penetrate for a long moment, her hunt pinging back nothing but a sea of dark reflections, the lower ones peppered with white and yellow lights from the harbor.

  The windows were mirrored. No one could see them.

  But the risk still danced in her awareness. What if they could be seen? What if the reflective quality was only an illusion?

  The exhibitionist in her reveled in the idea. He knew it and was exploiting it. The knowledge only heightened her lust when it would’ve killed it in any other situation.

  “Do you think they’d wonder what I’m doing to put that look on your face?” He lightened his touch to a soft brush
on her clit and slow circle over her anus that succeeded in driving her need deeper.

  She wanted to come. Wanted to cry out with her release, but he wasn’t giving it to her—yet. She shook her head, but it didn’t clear the fog within it.

  “Wonder if I’m teasing you with my fingers or my dick or a toy.” Heat covered every word and singed her neck as he spoke them into her ear.

  Her breaths were short and heavy, each telling hitch giving away what she wasn’t saying. She turned her face toward his, swallowed. “Your dick would be nice.”

  He cut off his chuckle by taking her mouth in another consuming kiss that twisted her neck and contorted her spine. She reveled in that too. In the mindless take and wild strokes of his tongue. It screamed of his own desire, of the control he struggled to maintain.

  He wasn’t detached from the moment, not even slightly.

  Air raced into her lungs when he jerked back. That same air swooped in to chill her back. She missed his heat almost immediately.

  “Stay there,” he ordered before stalking away.

  She let her eyes fall closed and focused on his movements behind her. The flick of the bathroom light, a rustle of items. Her thoughts ping-ponged around possibilities only to settle at the distinctive crinkle and tear of a condom wrapper. She had one in her wallet—and she’d totally forgotten about protection.

  She never overlooked safety, especially her own. That was yet another first of many for this evening.

  Material swished, a belt slicked through loops before being set on the desk, the buckle clicking its dismissal. The purr of his zipper became a cry of forewarning. It prickled over her nape and raced to her pussy.

  She could turn around or open her eyes and possibly catch his reflection in the window, but she didn’t. Instead, she savored the anticipation, let it build along with the easy languidness that’d settled into her.

  The first long stroke of his palm down her spine calmed her even more. The press of his chest against her back spread a rush of answered longing through her chest. The heat was like silk, his skin a balm she hadn’t been aware of needing. Her head fell back, hips hunting for the heavy thickness of his erection. It scorched a path through the slick crease of her pussy when he pulled her tight to him.

  “I’m going to fuck you, Kennedy.” She choked on her gasp, caught in the spell he’d so expertly woven. “Against this window. Your passion displayed to the world but owned by me.” He rolled his hips, his dick sliding over her aching folds until the head caught on her entrance.

  Her whimper escaped this time, desire trembling in every muscle. “Yes,” she managed to whisper. “Please.”

  Take me any way you want.

  Chapter Six

  Heat wrapped around his dick in a heady clench of slickness as Matt finally gave in to the frantic need to have Kennedy. Desire blacked out his good intentions to consume him with thoughts of ravishing her against the window and on the bed and in the shower and…

  A scratchy groan scrambled free when he bottomed out before he was ready. The position wasn’t optimal for deep penetration, but it was so damn hot. She clung to his sides, her back arched, breast thrust out to emphasize each clipped breath.

  He forced the uncomfortable position if only to reclaim his control. Their hazy reflection provided a closeup of the man he’d tried so hard to shut down. The one he’d iced and flat-out ignored for the last twelve years.

  Look at him now.

  Damn if it didn’t feel good, though. Right. Like he’d finally found that missing part of himself. But he’d known where it’d been all along. The fierce intent in the bastard staring back at him mocked his naivety.

  This…kink had never died.

  And he wasn’t the only one here. This was about more than him. Way more.

  “You’re beautiful,” he told her, meaning every word.

  A shiver trembled through her to vibrate against his chest. He focused on her reflection, on her soft whimper and hitched breath as he caressed her abdomen, easing lower. The trimmed fuzz of hair provided zero protection from his gaze or his touch. It tickled his fingertips in a seductive warning that only tempted him lower.

  Fuck he loved the tease. Nature had provided an enticer, which so many now chose to eliminate. He’d never understand why. He found the slick, smooth heat hidden below, and he chuckled at his hypocrisy. He also loved the unhampered access to her pussy.

  And she’d unknowingly given him both.

  “Matt,” she said with more air than sound.

  His chest clenched around the longing it sent off, like it’d done every time she’d said his name in that same breathless want-mixed plea.

  “Kennedy,” he answered right back, his own blend of need and hunger included. He rolled her clit beneath his finger, his stomach contracting against the rampant urgency building in his groin.

  She tried to rock her hips, but he wouldn’t let her. One movement would end this moment, this…quiet. Peace settled in his heart without guilt or recriminations for wanting this. For still needing it when it’d hurt the two people who were more important to him than his screwed-up desires.

  “Fuck me,” Kennedy said, eyeing him in the window. Lust encompassed her features, her strength still visible despite her vulnerable position. Not once had she cowered or scrambled to please him, yet she’d held nothing back. “Please.”

  That one little word was an enormous gift from her, one made in trust. It slithered over his skin and scrambled to the heart of his craving. That damn drive to control, but to also help. To give someone what they needed to feel better, be better.

  And that last soft plea was his undoing.

  He shoved her forward, ensuring she caught herself before her face hit the glass. Her gasp, cut short by a low moan, was his signal to let loose. The fervor he’d been holding back burst free on a feral cry. He grabbed her hips and drove into her on long plunges that rocked her forward on every thrust.

  Her fingers squeaked on the glass, her breaths leaving a growing fog. Want crested too fast in his balls when he loathed to end this. Not yet. Not…

  He slowed, chest heaving. Urgency pulsed in his dick and knotted his stomach, but he wouldn’t let it win. This he could own. Control.

  Kennedy sagged against the glass, a pleading moan slipping between her parted lips. Any fears that he’d gotten too rough were nullified by the impassioned flush and dazed bliss displayed in her profile.

  He shifted his focus to where they were joined as he slowly withdrew from her. Her juices coated his dick, the slickness gleaming against the condom. He slid back in on the same torturous pace. Want drew his balls up and he trembled with the passion he refused to set free. Not…

  “Fuck.”

  The harshness of her uninhibited curse took another chunk out of his restraint. When she lifted her knee to rest it on the window ledge, he gave up all pretense of control.

  He had none. Not…now.

  He rammed into her with all the pent-up frustration she’d ignited with one little suggestion. One sly look had unlocked years of denial he didn’t want back. Not when he could have this. Own this.

  Each thrust released another wave of throttled hunger until there was nothing left but amazement. Of freedom to be himself.

  And he reveled in all of it. Her sweet sounds as she pawed the window that meshed so perfectly with the harsh slap of skin to skin. Sex and lust scented the air and flooded his senses until it clung to every thought.

  Her leg quivered with the strain to hold herself lifted on her toes, yet she stretched more, each shift letting him go a little deeper. His frustration clashed with his need to get deeper until it chased away the orgasm brewing in his groin.

  He hauled her to his chest and swung her around in one quick motion. Surprise gave him the advantage, but he didn’t abuse it. Power thrummed through his veins beside the adrenaline that lit him with its incredible high. Was that his true addiction?

  Two steps and they were at the bed. She scrambled on
to it without a word from him, her ass lifted, pussy displayed between her spread legs. Her plump red lips glistened, her vagina clenching in an open request to be filled.

  The urge to taste her for real, to lick up her juices and cause more, warred with the ache to come. Another place, more time, and he would’ve gladly ate her out until she screamed. But now…

  He slid back into her on a low moan that screamed of rightness that couldn’t last. Not for good. He couldn’t forget that—wouldn’t forget that.

  He leaned over her, hips locked against her round ass. Heat seared his chest when he pressed into her back. It stole his breath for one quick second. Longing gripped his heart before he shoved it back, yet he still savored the feel of her. The warmth and connection. The shared moment. The intimacy when he hadn’t expected it, had thought he didn’t want it.

  “Should I fuck that pretty ass of yours?” He left the taunt close to her ear.

  She turned her head to watch him from the corner of her eye. She slicked her lips, took a long breath. “Isn’t that your decision?”

  Her sass mixed with her open submission stroked that dominant flame he’d valiantly tried to snub out.

  “Excellent answer,” he growled before he claimed her mouth with a sloppy kiss hindered by their position. He didn’t care if it was awkward or messy, not when he craved her taste. Not when he drew back to see her dazed expression beneath the lust.

  He reared up, landed a brazen slap to her ass. Her cry held more shock than objection. She squirmed into him, grinding her bottom to his groin like the naughty wanton she was. The fact that she owned it was even hotter.

  His own shameless want roared its demand as he rubbed his thumb over her anus. It fluttered beneath his touch, her pussy clenching around his dick. His groan tore through his chest to leak between his clenched teeth. He tried to keep his pace slow, tried to draw it out even more, but her pussy was too warm, too slick, too tight. His orgasm too close.

  Intent faded beneath base hunger as he drove into her, taking everything she so freely gave. She gripped the bedspread and pushed back to meet each plunge, their rhythm fast, desperate and dirty.