by Lynda Aicher
“Touch yourself,” he ground out. “Play with your swollen clit.”
Her hand snaked down so quickly he almost barked out a laugh, not in humor but appreciation. Her quick little circles vibrated into his dick in a tease so unique he almost came right then. The slight graze of her nail shot a flare of pain up his shaft that merged with pleasure.
He was so fucking close. It boiled now, nudging coherent thought away until nothing mattered except feeling her contract around him, seeing her tremble, hearing her cries—so he could finally come.
“Come, Kennedy.” His growled command snapped from him without thought. “Fucking come all over my cock. Show me how hard I made you come. How much you love it.”
She shot him one lust-filled look before she curled in on a cry. Each ripple of her orgasm shuddered through her pussy to clasp his dick in its exotic hold. Her gasp displayed every passionate sensation flooding her.
And he was lost. To her. The moment. The impossible he’d thought he’d never have again—could never have again.
His release powered from his groin and blasted him with a punishing rush of intensity. He gripped her hips and rode out the orgasm on a hitch of breath and hard grind. “Fuck. Fuck… Fuck.”
His limbs tingled, ecstasy humming through him on a glorious rush that also left him numb. He sagged forward, caging Kennedy between his arms as he propped his forehead on her shoulder. “Fuck.” That one barely escaped on a breath.
“Hmmm.” Her low purr mimicked his own contentment.
His heart pounded in his head and hammered his ribs with demands he couldn’t respond to, but he also couldn’t reject her. Not after all she’d given him.
“Let me clean up,” he murmured before pressing a kiss to her spine. A shot of tenderness laced around the possessive want he couldn’t acknowledge. Separating from her required pure will. He slid free on a clench of regret, but not for what they’d done.
He ducked into the bathroom, deliberately avoiding the mirror. He didn’t want to see his expression. His default stony flatness was most likely gone given the riot of emotions banging away inside him.
She was sitting on the side of the bed, her back to him when he stepped into the room. The window served as a mirror to display her uncertainty before she noticed him. Her smile came quick, a falseness attached to the brittle edges.
“Hey,” she said, not turning around. “That was—”
“Don’t do that.” His words came out harsh, close to a reprimand when he hadn’t intended them to be. Her back straightened, and he slid onto the bed, wrapping an arm around her waist before she could stand. “Don’t,” he said near her ear. “Please. Don’t cheapen this.”
She stilled, her breath held for a beat before her shoulders dropped. “Okay.”
He smothered his relief beneath the kisses he trailed across her shoulder. “Thank you.” He released a long breath when she relaxed into him, the stiffness leaving her muscles. The entire evening had been an unexpected gift he wanted to treasure, not diminish or dismiss.
She didn’t resist when he shifted around to tug the blankets free and urged her to lay down with him. The knot in his chest released when she curled into him, her head resting on his shoulder, one leg threaded between his.
This was…almost better than the sex. The simple power of human contact should never be underestimated.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked after a bit. Her breaths had evened out, but a stiffness remained. A wariness.
“Doing what?” He skimmed his fingers over her hip, savoring the softness that went with her curves. Her hair fell in a soft wave down her back that tempted him to touch it too.
“This.” She gestured over them.
His chuckle remained mostly in his chest. She started to rise, but he held her tight, holding a kiss to her head until she relaxed. Her disgruntled sigh put a smile on his lips.
“Because it feels good,” he finally told her, underscoring his statement with a gentle rub on her back and ribs. “I have no expectations beyond this.”
She twisted around to study him, her chin propped on her fist. That telling line was present between her brows, her eyes narrowed.
“What?” he asked, amused. He used his thumb to rub at the frown line, smiling when it deepened.
“You’re…unexpected.”
“As are you.”
She shook her head, lips twitching. “So…do you do this often?”
“Do you?”
“No.” Her lips pursed. “Never like this.”
It was his turn to frown. “Like how?”
She studied him for a long moment, hesitation clear before she blinked it away. “I don’t usually pick up guys in a bar and let them fuck me against a hotel window.”
He didn’t respond at first, sensing there was something more she wasn’t saying. But was it really his business? Did it matter if she did pick up men and fuck them on a regular basis? No. It didn’t.
Or it shouldn’t.
His flash of jealousy had no place in this arrangement. One where he refused to know her last name.
He ran the back of a finger over her cheek, his knuckle grazing the edge of her freckles. “And I don’t usually pick up women and fuck them against hotel windows.” Actually, he hadn’t hit on a woman since college, let alone pick one up for sex.
The few hookups he’d had since his divorce were instances of mutual opportunity instigated by the women more than him and strictly vanilla. No commands. No roughness. Just safe, basic sex.
His dick and its demands had taken a backseat to his kids, both of whom were now teens edging closer to adults. They were fine. They wouldn’t be hurt by him dating. But his priorities had been set for so long he didn’t know how to shift them without changing himself.
“Could we call this a mutual anomaly?” The corner of her mouth quirked up.
He smiled. “Yeah. We could.”
Amusement danced in the blue of her eyes before her smile slowly died. Regret laced her voice when she spoke. “I should go.”
Logic smothered the denial that raced up. He couldn’t argue when he had nothing more to give.
She rolled away, but he followed, stopping her before she stood. Question lifted her brows when she turned to him. He answered it by drawing her in for a long, slow kiss. He brushed his lips over hers, circled her tongue with his own, careful to keep each touch, each stroke, gentle. What he couldn’t say, he could try to show her.
This had been more than a simple fuck to him, despite that being all it could be.
She moaned into his mouth, cupping his cheek as she drew him closer, deepening the exchange. He locked in every sensation along with her passionate flavor, every purred appreciation and soft breath.
Her eyes were guarded when she eased away. She stroked her fingers along the edge of his hair, her eyes tracking the movement. “Thank you.”
He curled his fingers in to keep from drawing her back. She gathered her clothes and stepped into the bathroom, the latch connecting with a soft click that managed to kick at his chest.
He squeezed his eyes closed, rubbed them to get rid of his wild thoughts. He’d been prepared for her to ask for more details about him, had half expected her to toss out her own. But she hadn’t done either, and he didn’t know how to feel about that. Relieved? Disappointed? Annoyed?
And he was being stupid now. This was nothing more than a really good fuck. The kind he hadn’t let himself have for exactly this reason. Intense sex had a way of spilling over into life, at least for him. Even the slight chance of that happening again had made the risk too high.
The ache near his heart only proved that his fears had been valid.
He was standing by the window, his slacks on, when she exited the bathroom. Her professional demeanor was back in place, from her pressed suit to her tamed hair and impersonal smile.
She slid her briefcase over her shoulder before she lifted to kiss him softly. Her hand lingered on his chest until she drew it a
way on a slow glide down. “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Maybe.” And then what? They couldn’t repeat this.
Her nod said she understood. “Thank you for sharing your relaxation technique. It was very effective.” The hint of mischief in her smile urged a reluctant one from him.
“You’re welcome.” It was on the tip of his tongue to offer his assistance in the future, but what good would it do when they both acknowledged the state of this arrangement.
She left his room with only a quick glance back. He stood at the window, watching the door for a long while after she was gone. His mind dashed from one thought to another before it stopped on nothing.
He turned around to stare into the darkness beyond. There was little to be done about where his life was. He had two kids who still needed him, even if they were mostly grown. He had a business to run and expand, along with a mountain of issues and problems that came with taking over an established, if stagnant, trucking company.
Fucking women against windows had no place in his life outside of a one-off fluke of luck and opportunity.
Kennedy…
Would remain in Long Beach when he returned to Daly City. And that was the end of it.
Chapter Seven
The jerk and hitch of the plane touching down yanked Kennedy from her thoughts. She glanced around, blinked. The short jaunt from LAX had passed without an ounce of work accomplished.
“Welcome to San Francisco. The weather is…”
Kennedy tuned out the rest of the flight attendant’s welcoming monologue. She’d heard it often enough to have it memorized. The older gentleman next her was busy searching through his briefcase, the same studied frown on his face that’d been there when she sat down.
She switched her phone from airplane mode and forced every thought of Matt from her mind. He’d already consumed too much of her attention. Way too much, if she included her lust-soaked dreams.
She closed her eyes, impressions from the previous night shivering over her with their persistent reminders. His commanding touches and filthy mouth, his heated kisses and wild fucking. His tender strokes and soft caresses.
The last ghosted over her jaw in a phantom pass that tightened the knot in her chest. She snapped her eyes open, breaths short. Heat soaked her nape and dampened her spine despite her refusal to acknowledge why. Just like she wouldn’t admit why she’d caught the first flight out of LAX she could get that morning.
Her phone buzzed in her hand, and she relished the distraction—until she saw her dad’s name on her screen. The ache in her temple pulsed with everything she was trying to ignore.
She silenced the vibration and slid her phone into her bag. Only then did she notice that most of the first-class section had emptied. She was spacing like a school girl high on her first crush—something she’d never done, not even when she’d been a school girl.
She hiked through the busy airport on autopilot. No thoughts. No reliving a night she shouldn’t have instigated but couldn’t regret. Not even now. Nope. Just get to her car, check her email, call her dad back.
Work.
There were a dozen tasks waiting for her, every one marked important. She couldn’t afford to be distracted. Her focus and drive were two of her biggest assets. One night of sex wasn’t going to derail that.
The fresh air hit her with a smack of exhaust fumes and reality. Her smile was locked in when she handed her ticket to the valet.
He checked her number into his computer, nodded. “I’ll be right back, Ms. Keller.”
She made a concerted effort to go through her email while she waited. She flagged a few work items and deleted a solid fifty or more from her personal account before her sleek, black luxury car rolled to a stop in front of her, the valet jumping out with a smile.
“Here you go,” he said, holding the door open for her.
She left her travel bag by the trunk, which she popped open when she sat behind the wheel. The valet took care of it, his efficiency and manners rewarded with her tip. Her mother had educated her on the return value of a generous tip.
Traffic out of the airport was its usual late-morning clog of annoyance that thickened once she hit the highway. Given her lack of productivity on the plane, she clicked her phone to the dash mount and checked her messages via voice commands and the wonder of Bluetooth speakers.
“Call Dad at work,” she said after discovering that he hadn’t left a voicemail.
“Ken?” His gruff baritone matched his image to a tee. “Where are you?”
“On the one oh one almost to the San Mateo bridge.”
“What are you doing here?”
She let his snarled reprimand roll off her shoulders with practiced ease as she checked her mirrors and followed the exit to the bridge she crossed almost daily. Locating the company in the outskirts of Oakland had been a financial decision made over fifty years ago, but living there had been out of the question, even for her grandfather.
“Thad and Craig have the convention under control,” she breezed. “I hit my priority contacts yesterday and decided to head back to focus on the new workflow layouts we’re considering.” Optimizing production was always important, and with every new piece of equipment or specification requirement, they took a hard look at efficiencies.
“Did you speak with Owen?”
“Yes.” She kept her expression contained to her eye roll. “He says you need to get to Santa Barbara soon so he can kick your ass on the green again.” Her dad’s deep chuckle put a smirk on her face. He might ride her like she was a newbie in the business, but she’d mastered the art of managing him before she’d stepped through the company doors. “You and Mom are welcome anytime, just give him a call.”
Owen Nickle was an old college buddy who’d traveled the same trek as her father through his own family business, only his was in medical supplies. That industry had proven to be far more profitable than the pallet business, a tidbit her father resented, but only behind closed doors after one too many drinks. Connections provided eighty percent of their business, and Owen had passed them some of their most valuable customers, including their newest prospect, Calloway Industries.
“What about that lead he referenced?” her dad asked.
“I’ll update you when I get to the office.” When she wasn’t distracted by traffic. “Are you free for lunch?”
“No.” He didn’t bother to expand, and she hadn’t expected him to. As the CEO, he ran the company on a need-to-know basis, even with her. “Come to my office at two.” He disconnected after that.
She tried to hold back her sigh, but it still escaped, her mumbled “yes, sir” falling out with the heavy sarcasm carried over from her youth. She’d marched to his demands since she’d learned to walk, while steadfastly blazing her own path. Or she tried to anyway.
Her curse snapped out when traffic came to a stop three exits from the office. And of course she’d just passed an off-ramp. She dropped her head back, hands clenching on the wheel. She flicked the radio on. Flicked it back off two seconds later.
She didn’t have time for this. Not when her thoughts drifted straight back to Matt. Nope. Not happening.
“Call Dani.” Her voice slashed through the car, but it didn’t vent an ounce of her frustration.
“Ken.” The obvious warmth in her best friend’s voice released a large dose of the tension strung tight through her neck. “How are you?”
Kennedy was well aware that her laugh held a defeated edge she rarely exposed. “Good,” she said. “You?”
“Hmm.” Knowledge vibrated on that long note. “What’s going on?”
God, she loved Danielle Stables. Their friendship had been almost guaranteed from the moment they’d met at boarding school even though Dani had been three years older.
Their male nicknames had linked them in a place where everyone struggled to be unique yet loathed being different. Dani and Ken—a match made from a cool factor defined by bored teens. Their weak connection ha
d strengthened when they discovered how similar they truly were in ways that stretched beyond the poor little rich girl routine.
Their mutual lack of inhibitions and sexual curiosity had cemented their bond through different colleges until they landed in the same MBA program at Stanford. Thankfully, Dani had remained on the West Coast instead of returning to her East Coast roots after graduation.
Kennedy set her doubts loose on the only person she trusted to keep them. “I might’ve made a mistake last night.”
“What kind of mistake?”
“A fucking amazing one.” Literally. And that was her problem. The night had knocked her back while setting her free. And she couldn’t repeat it. Not with Matt or any man.
But she wanted to—with Matt.
“Details.”
The snapped command pulled a defeated chuckle from Kennedy. “I picked up a man in the bar at a convention…” And they’d had sex, which was no biggie in itself.
“Did he hurt you? Are you okay?”
“He didn’t harm me.” Kennedy’s guilt charged forward for scaring her friend. “I’m fine. He was fine. Better than, actually.” Heat raced a path up her neck and over her cheeks at a speed too quick to stall. What is wrong with me? She placed a hand on her cheek, relishing the coolness that did little against the burn stinging it.
“Oooh?” Speculation popped in Dani’s voice, and Kennedy could picture her eyes going wide. “Do I get details?”
Gossiping about their sexual adventures had become a mundane task back in boarding school that’d continued as they’d explored their sexuality. Any shyness she might’ve first had fled beside the undaunting confidence Dani exuded. She’d educated Kennedy on the power that came with owning her desires.
A lesson that’d proven to be one of the most important ones she’d ever learned.
Traffic started a slow crawl forward. “It kind of wrecked me,” she finally said after a short internal debate. The how of it wasn’t important to the big picture. It didn’t matter that she’d submitted to a man for the first time. Nope.
