by Maggie Wells
She pressed her palm to his chest. Her thumb grazed his nipple, and the sensitive nub tightened. “I want you completely out of control.”
Steve licked his lips. His heart began to hammer again. When she stepped back, her fingers tickled the hair on his stomach, and his tie slithered from her other wrist. She bent at her waist, stretching her arms the length of the mattress, pressing her cheek to the comforter, and tipping her ass high. Her ankles wobbled when she widened her stance and his groan faded into a moan.
He fell to his knees behind her, cupping the pale rounded globes in his hands and parting the cleft of her ass with his thumbs. His fingers splayed across porcelain skin. Sara arched her back, rising on her toes and circling her hips. He pulled his hand away and she moaned, lifting her ass in anticipation.
Steve blinked and lowered his hand to caress her warm skin, and a shiver shuddered through her body. Visions of her pale skin turning pink then red flashed through his mind. His fingers flexed then burrowed into the soft flesh. He bit his cheek to keep from accepting her invitation.
Instead, he pressed the blunt tip of his thumb to the tight pucker of her anus, and she jumped. “I want you out of control,” he growled, running his hands down the backs of her thighs.
Her legs trembled when he parted them further. He pressed his nose to her, inhaling the musk of her arousal. His tongue dragged the length of her slick pussy, and Sara answered with a whimper of approval. He pulled back, letting his breath wash over her heated flesh.
“You have the sweetest ass,” he murmured.
“Too big.”
He shook his head, his lips skimming over her velvety skin. His teeth grazed one cheek, eliciting another moan. He pressed a wet, open-mouthed kiss to the afflicted flesh, laving it with his tongue. “It’s a wet dream, darlin’.”
“You think?”
The breathless rasp of her voice almost made up for the humiliation of his bondage failure. His wounded pride forced him to up the ante a bit. “I know. I’ve dreamed of fucking this ass,” he whispered, running his hands reverently over her succulent curves.
Sara tensed then moaned, her muscles growing warm and lax in his hands. He dipped his head and pressed his mouth to her pussy again. His tongue darted into her slick channel and circled the hardened nub of her clit. She bucked, pushing back against his face. He dragged his tongue the length of her again then thrust two fingers into her tight cunt.
She cried out and he thrust his fingers into her harder and faster. Her breath caught and tiny, little hiccups of pleasure bubbled from her throat, spurring him on. Steve rocked back, watching his fingers disappear into her wet pink flesh. Her juices flowed onto his knuckles. His fingers bit into the cheek of her ass. He moved in again and pressed his tongue to her anus.
She gasped and then ground against him. The walls of her pussy clamped down on his fingers, holding them deep inside her. Her legs trembled. Her muscles clenched when the tight flesh gave way to his probing tongue. He thrust into her, curling his fingers to stroke her slick walls.
“Fuck, yes,” he groaned. His dick throbbed, but he couldn’t pry his hands off of her. “Would you give me your ass, Sara?” She answered with a muffled moan. “Do you want me in your ass?”
He slid his fingers from her pussy and circled the tight pucker of her ass, spreading her moisture over the vulnerable flesh. Her strangled moan was muffled by the comforter. She rose on her toes to meet his teasing finger. He pushed into the tight channel groaning long and low as she gasped.
“I...oh!” He thrust once and she came apart in his hands.
Wracking spasms of release shook her entire body. A rasping scream wrenched from her throat. His name bounced off the walls. Unable to bear it one more moment, he sprang to his feet.
The echo of her cries lingered in the air. He thrust his cock into her pleasure-soaked pussy with a primal grunt. Her muscles clenched, the aftershocks of her climax milking him. His hand closed over her mound, his fingertips tickling her clit. The creamy skin stretched taut over the curve of her spine called to him. He pressed a hot, wet kiss to the base of her neck.
She stretched her arms wider, supplicating herself to him, and Steve found his self-control in the desperate way her fingers clutched the comforter, bunching it in her fists.
His cock throbbed inside her. He splayed his hand possessively over her back. Pressing her into the mattress, he began to fuck her hard. Her tiny, panting gasps drove him wild. The tingles of his orgasm danced like pins and needles from the soles of his feet. His calf muscles screamed. He pinched her clit between his thumb and forefinger, and she trembled beneath him, driving him higher.
He slid one hand down her back, his fingers teasing the cleft of her ass. “I’ll give you anything you want.” Sara choked on her cry as her body coiled, every muscle tensing around him. “Come again,” he ordered, stroking her clit while he tugged on her hip, changing the angle and sinking deeper.
Her inarticulate little cries of surrender filled the room. Tension shot up the backs of his legs. His ass clenched and he thrust into her, driving into her with hard, fast strokes. She spasmed around him, and he gave in to his own pleasure with a roar.
The walls of her pussy locked down on him, draining him dry. His body shuddered. He collapsed onto her, trapping her beneath him. The skin of her back was damp against his cheek. He inhaled deeply, savoring the mixture of perfume, lotions, and sweet, clean sweat. His lips grazed her shoulder blade.
“Would you?” he whispered. “Would you let me, Sara?”
“I’ve never...”
“Me either,” he admitted.
“You haven’t?”
Her vulnerable whisper rocked him to his core. “No, darlin’. I’ve always thought that was too…intimate….”
“Me too,” she murmured.
“But I want to. I want you.” She shivered beneath him and Steve pressed a soft kiss to her shoulder blade. “Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
“I won’t push you, but someday... If you want...I want it to be me, Sara.”
Her voice came soft and halting. “Okay.”
He nuzzled the nape of her neck. “I’m never doing this again,” he whispered, his voice as spent as his body.
“What?”
“Going that long without you again.” Steve drew back, pushing on his hands to relieve her of his weight. He blazed a trail of hot, sweet kisses down the column of her spine. “It was stupid. Never again, Sara.”
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her fingers unfurl, relinquishing her hold on the comforter. She smoothed the rumpled fabric with her palm and smiled. “Good.”
Steve chuckled. He nipped playfully at her bottom then gave her thigh a little slap. “Come on, up on the bed.”
“Bossy,” Sara muttered. She raised her cheek from the mattress then let her head fall again. “Can’t.”
His amused smile faded. “Are you okay?”
“Perrrrr-fect.”
He laughed and bent to slide one arm under her stomach. Sara giggled and squirmed as he slipped the other under her hips and scooped her into his arms.
“Oooh, big, strong man,” she cooed, batting a swath of honeyed-gold hair from her eyes.
He deposited her in the center of the bed. “Don’t you forget it.”
Chapter Fourteen
The click of fingernails against the keyboard rang out as her iPod shuffled. A new song began, but Sara barely noticed. Her fingers were on fire. Heat pooled in her belly, warming her heart and radiating down her arms. She shifted in her seat and smiled. Shifting was a good sign. The need to wriggle signified that a scene would come alive on the page.
Her cell rang. She faltered only for a moment, quickly regaining her momentum the second she decided to ignore the call. Her e-mail chirped, but the notification was drowned out by the aching strains of Patsy Cline and the low, soft moan that escaped her lips when she re-read the last line on the screen.
An hour later, Sara was so im
mersed in her work that the buzz of her doorbell caused her to jump. “Gah!”
She pushed away from the desk, throwing her hands up in frustration and banging her shin on the open drawer. “Dammit,” she hissed. Shoving the drawer shut, she lurched from her chair. She limped into the hall and pressed the intercom button. “Yes?”
“Delivery for Wright,” a disembodied voice answered.
She glanced down at the rumpled pajamas she wore even though it was well past lunchtime. With a grunt, she smoothed her hands over her hair before reaching for the deadbolt. Heedless of her tousled appearance, she jogged down the steps to the security door, cursing the fact that the stupid thing had latched for once.
Sara bit her lip to keep from snapping at the young man standing on her stoop. Tucking the package under her arm, she signed her name then let the door swing shut behind her. She didn’t bother to listen for the catch as she rushed back up the stairs. Once in her apartment, she locked herself in, tossed the package onto the hall table with the rest of the junk mail, and hurried back to her office.
Settled in her chair once more, she positioned her hands over the keyboard and blew out a breath. The pads of her fingers rested on the keys. She scanned the page, trying to pick up the thread. She cautiously pecked out a few more words but knew the sentence wasn’t ending as she had intended.
Sara wracked her brain. She read and re-read the passage over and over again. Frustration knotted in her stomach, punching its way past her beating heart and lodging in her throat. She tried to swallow the lump.
“No. Dammit, no,” she mumbled.
Her cell tweeted, reminding her of the call she’d missed. An envelope flashed on her toolbar, tempting her to look away from the wreckage of her train of thought. Her right hand reached for the mouse, and her left curled into a fist.
She stroked the smooth plastic with her index finger. Her middle finger grazed the scroll wheel. The page on the screen jerked down and up. She closed her eyes.
Arthur’s expression remained impassive as another man’s hands roamed over her body. Those hands drove her to heights Arthur had never imagined. Susannah cried out as she crested again. “Yes! God, yes!”
She collapsed, her hands seeking purchase amidst the jumbled bedding, a strong forearm braced around her waist. Stefan’s cock pulsed inside of her, stretching the walls of her pussy. His release coursed through her, vibrant and virile. His labored breathing warmed her neck and shoulders. She raised her head and met Arthur’s cool green gaze.
“Are you happy now?” he asked, his tone bland and indifferent.
“Yes,” she whispered, and the man behind her tensed.
Sara jumped when her cell began to ring again. Her heart hammered in her throat as she lunged for the desk, patting piles of paper and un-read magazines until she located the phone. The cool plastic was slippery in her sweaty palm.
“What?” she snapped.
“Well, hello, Sara darlin’,” Steve answered with a laugh. “Am I interrupting?”
“Yes.”
The teasing note left his voice. “I’m sorry.”
She pushed a hand through her hair and sank back in the chair. “No, sorry. Not your fault. I’m just... I was on a roll and then… I keep getting derailed.”
“I’m sorry.”
Sincerity rang true in his voice, and she smiled. “No, it’s okay. I don’t mind being interrupted by you.”
Steve chuckled. “Yeah, you do.”
“Okay, I do, but that ship had sailed before you called.” A grin softened her words. Planting her bare toes on the legs of the chair, she began to swivel. “I almost decked some poor delivery guy, though.”
There was a long pause then Steve blew out a breath. “That might have been me, too.”
Her eyes narrowed and her gaze zoomed in on the flashing envelope at the bottom of her screen. “Oh?”
She clicked, and an e-mail appeared. A frown knit her brow while she scanned the message. “You sent me a present?”
“I’m sorry.”
Tucking the phone under her chin, she lurched from the chair and shuffled into the hallway. “You’re sorry you sent me a present?”
“I’m sorry I interrupted your work.” He sighed. “I’ve missed you the last couple of days.”
Sara plucked the box from the hall table when she passed, heading for the living room. A shower of mail fell to the floor in her wake. She eyed the padded envelope with more interest and dropped onto the couch. “You missed me, so you’re sending me presents?”
“No, I missed you and I want to see you tonight, if that’s okay.”
“Okay by me. You’re the one who’s been busy wining and dining clients.”
“Believe me, not my favorite thing to do. Mike and Jason aren’t nearly as pretty as you, Sugar.”
“Aw, that’s sweet,” she mocked, ripping the pull tab on the envelope. “I won’t tell them you said so, or they might not invite you to lunch on fried chicken day anymore.”
She peered into the package but saw only tissue paper. A soft bundle slid from the envelope into her lap.
“How’s the book coming?”
“Good, it’s good.” Sara pulled back the edge of the tissue paper, her eyebrows arching when she spotted a swatch of pale pink lace. “Did you buy me lingerie?”
He cleared his throat. “So, can I see you tonight?”
She pinched the strap of what appeared to be a garter belt between her thumb and forefinger and let it dangle in front of her eyes. “You did! You bought me lingerie!”
“Sara…”
“So, you wanna see me tonight?” she teased, extracting a matching bra and what appeared to be ivory-colored silk stockings from the tissue.
“Oh, yeah.”
“You wanna see me in this tonight?”
“Please.”
The creak in his voice made her heart flutter. “Ask me,” she ordered. “Ask me to wear this for you.”
Steve sucked in a sharp breath then let it go slowly. “Sara, darlin’, would you please be so kind as to wear the pretty things I bought for you tonight?”
“Steve—sugar, honey, sweetie-pie,” she cooed in a breathy whisper. “It’ll be my pleasure.”
Chapter Fifteen
As usual, when Steve reached Sara’s brownstone that evening, the security door wasn’t latched. He closed it firmly behind him then took the steps two at a time. At her door, he paused for a moment to calm his breathing before raising his hand to knock. A small crash and a muffled curse greeted him. The locks tumbled, and Sara yanked open the door, pushing her hair back from her face.
“Sorry! I’m sorry. I got all caught up,” she said in a rush.
He surveyed her rumpled pajamas. A pencil peeked out from under the tangled mass of her honey-colored hair. Crumbs from what appeared to be a chocolate cookie gathered in the corner of her mouth. Gripping the doorframe, he leaned in and kissed away the evidence of what was probably her breakfast and lunch. Chocolate melted on his tongue when he pulled back.
“Serves me right.” He smoothed one hand over her hair and plucked the pencil from behind her ear. “I’m sorry I bothered you earlier.”
She smiled and stepped back, granting him entry. “I got right back into it after you called, then I started editing and I lost track of time.”
He admired the curve of her bottom in baggy sleep pants as he followed her to the kitchen. “I knew you worked in your pajamas.”
“Only when I’m on a roll.” Sara pulled a bottle of beer from the fridge and handed it to him. “Here, entertain yourself. All sorts of reading material,” she said, gesturing to the kitchen table littered with papers, books, and magazines. “Just give me a minute.”
He snorted and glanced down at a stack of printed pages. “Is this what you’re working on now?” She flinched when he reached for the pages, and he pulled his hand away. “Sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry,” she apologized with a sheepish smile. Gathering the papers, she cradled them
to her chest. “It’s pretty rough yet.”
He nodded his understanding and tapped a finger to the cover of a partially buried tabloid magazine. “Hey, look! I was wondering what J Lo was up to these days.”
She laughed as he pulled the gossip rag free from the morass and dropped into a chair. He twisted the top from the bottle of beer and glanced up at her. “You needed a minute?” he reminded her.
Sara nodded then glanced at the pages clutched in her arms again. He smiled and turned his attention to the magazine. “Aw, damn, whatshername was arrested again.”
“Do you want to read it?”
“Is it something new, or the same old ‘She got drunk, slapped a photographer, and kicked a cop in the nuts’ story?”
“No, this,” she said, offering the pages to him.
He shook his head slowly. “Nah. Not if you don’t want me to.”
“It’s okay.” She waggled the papers at him. “Just remember, it’s a first draft, so it’s not very polished. Most of it will end up being cut or reworked.”
His fingers closed around the edges of the pages, but he didn’t pull them from her grasp. “Do you want me to read it?”
She shrugged. “I used to send you stuff to read all the time.”
“Yeah, but, now I know you didn’t send me the good stuff.”
Her smile slid into a grin. “There’s good stuff in there.”
“Well, then, yes, I want to read it,” he answered, matching her grin with one of his own.
Sara practically shoved the pages at him and bent to plant a kiss on his lips. She spun on her heel, marched into her office, and retrieved the package he had a messenger deliver earlier. At the bathroom door, she sent him a coy smile and said, “Enjoy. I’m gonna go slip into something a little more uncomfortable.”
He laughed and rose from his chair, intent on following her. He took two steps before he heard the snick of the lock. “Hey!”
The tinkle of her laughter mixed with the rush of water in the tub. He sighed and shuffled back to his chair, a small smile lifting his lips. He congratulated himself on paying close enough attention to notice that in every one of Sara’s books, the hero bought his woman something to wear—a dress, a nightgown, or sexy lingerie.
