Stealing Rose

by Monica Murphy

I close my eyes, little white sparks lighting off behind my lids at the way he’s working me on his cock, lifting me as if I weigh nothing. I lean my head back, lost in the sensation, the rhythm of our bodies working together, his fingers finding my clit and stroking the little bundle of nerves, sending more of those hot sparks through my veins, across my skin. I feel like I’m chasing after my orgasm as I begin to move faster, riding him harder, sending him deeper.

  He grabs hold of me and rolls over as if he can’t stand it any longer. I’m pinned to the mattress, imprisoned by his body as he powers his cock inside of me, again and again, and I can do nothing but take it. Enjoy it. Lying there helpless, I wrap my legs around his hips, anchoring myself to him as he reaches between us and strokes me, the creamy sound of my pussy making us both moan.

  “I couldn’t wait.” He presses his face to my cheek, his mouth at my ear as he begins to fuck me hard. “I had to get you beneath me so I could fuck you properly.”

  Caden can fuck me any way he wants as long as I’m coming. And it’s close. So close. I arch against him, closing my eyes, everything within me going perfectly still, perfectly quiet, as I reach and reach and finally claim my prize.

  The orgasm steals over me, robbing me of my breath, of my thoughts, of everything and anything until he’s the only thing I can focus on. I open my eyes to find him watching me, his gaze hungry as he leans in and kisses me, his mouth opening on a groan as his own orgasm takes over his body, leaving him a shuddering, gasping mass of flesh before he collapses on top of me, pressing me even deeper into the mattress.

  I hold him close, clinging to him, our sweaty bodies sticking to each other. I’m thrilled at what we just shared. And horrified.

  Definitely horrified.

  Chapter Ten

  Caden

  I’m still on an orgasmic high, just about to drift off into sleep, when I hear Rose say something. I decide to ignore her since I really didn’t hear her anyway, squeezing her shoulders with my arm, pulling her closer to my chest. We’re lying next to each other in postcoital bliss, the sheets kicked off and in a pile on the floor, the cool air bathing our heated skin. I feel good. I feel on top of the motherfuckin’ world and nothing is going to get me down. At least not for the next few hours.

  “Hey.” Rose pokes my side, making me yelp. Damn, her finger’s sharp. Pricking my good vibe like a pin pops a balloon. “Shouldn’t you, um … be on your way?”

  I crack open my eyes and stare at her in disbelief. “Are you kicking me out?”

  She makes a face, one that says, I’m so sorry, but yeah. You gotta go.

  Right. She’s definitely kicking me out.

  “Well, this is awkward,” I say as I let go of her and slide out of bed. She scrambles into a sitting position, yanking the sheet up so it covers her breasts, and I almost want to laugh. I’ve seen every inch of her. Explored every inch of her, too, with my fingers and mouth and tongue. She has no reason to hide from me.

  “It’s just … it’s getting late and I don’t know what’s going on and …” Her voice trails off and she shrugs those pretty, slim shoulders, her hair spilling everywhere, sliding against her skin, tempting me to touch her there.

  But I resist because what the fuck, she’s kicking me out. No woman kicks me out. They’re always begging me to stay and I’m the one shoving them off, desperate to escape.

  I didn’t even get a chance to search her suite for the necklace. I’m failing on all sides here. I need to play this off and see if I can get back in her good graces.

  Were you ever in her good graces?

  That’s probably a no.

  “You’re cute when you’re flustered,” I tell her, pleased when I see her cheeks turn pink. “And that you can blush after everything that’s happened between us …”

  “Yeah, that.” She points her finger at me, the sheet dropping to reveal her breasts. My gaze falls there, staring at them, the rosy nipples that match her name. Everything about her is pink and rose, creamy and sweet and so fucking tempting. “Your mouth makes me crazy.”

  “In a good way or a bad way?” I thought she liked my mouth. She definitely didn’t protest when I had it between her legs. Or pressed to her lush lips. Or wrapped around her nipples.

  “In a bad way.” She glances down at herself and pulls the sheet up again, ruining my view. “Besides, we’ve run out of condoms.”

  Like that would stop me. “I bet if I called the concierge he’d get us more.” I stride toward the phone sitting on the bedside table, reaching for the receiver, but she slaps her hand over it first, stopping my progress.

  “You will absolutely not call them,” she says, her voice low, the sheet forgotten again, much to my pleasure.

  “Why not?”

  “Then they’ll know what we’re doing.” Her cheeks turn even brighter pink and I chuckle, curling my hand upward into hers so our fingers interlock.

  “We’re consenting adults, Ro. If we want to get naked and fuck for hours in a hotel room on a Saturday afternoon, then that’s our God-given right.”

  “Ro? No one’s called me that before.” She disentangles her fingers from mine, scooting away from me until she’s sitting in the middle of the bed, the sheet still puddled around her lap, offering me that stellar view. I could stare at her chest all day. Now I get why artists are compelled to paint nudes of beautiful women. I’ve never painted in my life, but I’d love to capture Rose in this exact moment on canvas. “And please don’t bring God into this conversation,” she says weakly.

  I sit on the edge of the mattress, not about to give up. I need to get closer to her and eventually get closer to that damn necklace she wore. Dexter wants it. He’s been hounding my ass for it. And I’ll get it.

  Eventually.

  I’d rather focus on her first. Earn her trust. So I’m not casing out her hotel room. I’m not looking for any stray jewelry lying around.

  Hell, I’m in too deep now.

  I’m here with Rose because I want to be, not because I want to steal something from her.

  Yet. Don’t forget the “yet” part at the end of that last thought.

  Yeah. Who wants to focus on trying to steal a necklace when I could be sliding back into bed with her? I want to feel the hot, tight clasp of her pussy milking my cock again. I want to feel her touch me, feel her lips on my skin, hear her moan when I hit a spot that feels particularly good. I want to learn all of those spots, memorize them for later. Because there will be a later for Rose and me. I plan on that. And she’d better plan on it too, no matter how much in denial she is.

  “Rose.” She turns to look at me, her expression wary. Guarded. I know the feeling. More than anything, I know that look. I’ve been wearing the same guarded expression pretty much all my life. I trust no one. They’re all out to screw me over; it doesn’t matter who they are. I’ve become so good at playing the part, of being whoever I need to be at any given moment, I have no idea who the real me is anymore.

  Being with Rose is the closest I’ve felt to myself since I don’t know when. I want to explore this. Explore what we share, what she makes me feel, what we are when we’re together.

  She’s ready to kick me out and I’m ready to cling. Talk about a total role reversal. I need to get my head back on straight and focus.

  “Caden.” She matches my tone, watching me expectantly. When I don’t say anything she rolls her eyes. “Do you realize I don’t even know your last name? What does that say about me, that I’d let you into my room and—fool around with you for hours and I don’t know your last name? It’s appalling behavior.”

  “Appalling behavior? You sound like a crabby old school-teacher.” I want to laugh but I don’t. She’s dead serious. I think she’s just shocked herself with what we’ve done.

  I’ve shocked myself too, but in a good way. While she acts like we’ve committed the ultimate sin.

  “You wouldn’t understand.” She averts her head as if it pains her to look at me and I move closer to her, reachin
g out to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

  “It’s Kingsley,” I murmur, wishing I could kiss her. Comfort her. But that’s not happening, not yet. I’ve got to take it slow.

  She turns, a little gasp escaping her when she discovers how close I am. “What?”

  “My last name. It’s Kingsley.”

  “Are you serious? Of course it is.” She tosses her hands up in the air, making her breasts jiggle, and I jerk my gaze away from her chest.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “It’s such an—arrogant name. Caden Kingsley. Please don’t tell me your friends called you King or something silly like that when you were in school.”

  Hell, no, they didn’t call me that. They teased me unmercifully when my father lost all his money in bad investments and when he became involved in a pyramid scheme. In his shame and embarrassment he did the unthinkable.

  Killed himself.

  And I’ve dealt with his choice ever since. Worn it like it was my cross to bear. I hate him for what he did. Hate him for how he destroyed my life, Mom’s life, lost all our money until I turned to the one thing that was the easiest fix.

  Stealing.

  I guess I’m more like my old man than I thought.

  “I was born with the name.” I shrug, uncomfortable thinking about my past shames. “Not like I chose it.”

  She’s studying me a little too closely and I want to squirm like a little kid. But I don’t. I remain as still as I can, returning her stare, wanting her to think she doesn’t scare me.

  But fuck, she does. She scares the crap out of me. Maybe I should leave. Bail out of here like she wants me to and forget all about this woman.

  You won’t be able to. It has nothing to do with the necklace or anything that you can gain from her. You just want her. Pure and simple. What’s the harm in that?

  It’s who she is. What she represents. She’s exactly the type of woman I need to avoid. Not cling to.

  “I should go.” I start to rise but she clasps my wrist, her fingers keeping me in place.

  “Wait.”

  I stare at her hand clasped tight around my wrist, then lift my head to meet her imploring gaze.

  “Don’t go,” she whispers.

  Go. Go. Fucking go. “What are you saying? You changed your mind?”

  Her gaze never leaves my face and I know she’s searching for something, some hidden secret I supposedly have. And I do have them. A ton of them. I’m not about to reveal them to her, though. She’ll only use them against me. No one knows my secrets. I keep them close to my chest.

  It’s better that way. Easier.

  “Do you want to go to dinner?” She’s changing the subject and I’m okay with that. The conversation was taking an uncomfortable turn, one I didn’t want to deal with.

  “With you?” I ask.

  She laughs and shakes her head, her grip on my wrist easing, but she doesn’t let go. And I like that. “I deserve that, don’t I? Yes, with me.”

  Her honesty is refreshing. The women I’ve been with always play games. Natural, I guess, considering I’m a game player too. We say one thing and mean another. Being with a woman was always about chasing the pleasure, seeking the orgasm. Whitney is the only female friend I have and I still end up seeking the orgasm with her, so much so that I have her conditioned to want it anytime she’s with me.

  Meaning I’ll eventually ruin that friendship too.

  “Yeah, that sounds good.” The relief in my voice is evident and for once I don’t care. I don’t want to hide it. For once in my life I’m tempted to be open with a woman.

  Real.

  More like real scary. What the hell am I thinking?

  “I need to take a shower first.” She waves a hand at me. “So maybe you can turn around so I can go to the bathroom?”

  “Are you serious?” I grab her, causing her to shriek. Clamping my hand over her mouth loosely, I roll over so she’s beneath me, her breasts pressed against my chest, her sheet-covered legs squirming beneath mine. “Baby, I’ve seen you completely naked. You rode my face. You came all over my face. And now you’re acting shy?”

  She struggles against me, reaching out to shove me, and I grab at her wrists, lifting her arms above her head and pinning them there. “Let go of me.”

  “Don’t be embarrassed.” I dip my head, brush my nose against her cheek, along her neck. Her struggle eases, her body going limp beneath mine when I run my mouth along her skin, scenting her, tasting her. My body is spent but my cock is hard and I’m afraid I could become easily addicted to this woman.

  “I’m not used to a man sticking around after sex,” she admits softly.

  I lift my head so I can look at her. “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, they all bail right after, even the ones I’m in a committed relationship with.” Her cheeks go red yet again and I kiss her there, my lips pressing into the heated skin of her left cheek, then her right.

  “You’ve been in lots of committed relationships?” I ask, almost afraid of her answer. Because if she has I should probably go. Now.

  “No.” The word comes out strangled, though that could be because I slipped my hand down to cup her breast. “I’ve had one serious boyfriend. And he was the worst of them all. I found out later I wasn’t the only woman he was seeing, though I thought I was.”

  Asshole. I may not commit, but at least I don’t string women along and pretend I want a relationship with them.

  “I shouldn’t even be talking to you about this stuff. Like you care.” She turns her head to the side, staring at nothing, her body tense.

  I kiss her jaw, her lips, my hand still on her breast, gently stroking. Her nipple pebbles against my palm, her body growing warm and pliant beneath me, and I place my mouth at her ear. “Let’s take a shower together.”

  “I don’t know …” Her voice trails off when I kiss and nibble her earlobe.

  “I’ll wash your hair.”

  She smiles and lifts her shoulder, trying to shrug me away like she can get rid of me, but I don’t budge. “That sounds nice,” she admits.

  “I’ll wash your entire body.” I lick her ear, making her shiver.

  “Okay,” she whispers.

  “But no more shyness, all right? I like what I see. I don’t want you to be bashful.”

  Her gaze meets mine, then drops to linger on my mouth before returning to my eyes. “Bashful? You make me sound like one of the Seven Dwarfs.”

  “You’re the one who wanted me to close my eyes so you could run to the bathroom. That sounds like bashful to me.” I’m still cupping her breast, and my cock is hard as steel where it rests against her belly. “We’d better go take that shower before I give up and fuck you again.”

  Her eyes widen the slightest bit. “We don’t have any more condoms.”

  “I’d pull out.” Just the thought of coming all over her stomach and chest has my balls aching.

  “I don’t have sex without a condom.”

  “Neither do I.”

  “The pull-out method is one of the least reliable.”

  “I’ve heard that.” What the fuck is wrong with me, suggesting such a thing and not being the least bit concerned about it, either? I’m a fucking nut job of the highest proportions right about now.

  I blame the woman squirming beneath me.

  “Yet you suggested it.” She’s calling me out yet again.

  “You think too much.” I kiss her nose and climb off of her, standing by the side of the bed with my hand held out. “Come on. Let’s go take that shower.”

  She studies my hand warily, looking as unsure as I feel. There’s a heaviness in the room. A sense that the two of us are about to embark on a crazy adventure neither of us will ever fully recover from.

  Will she take my hand? Or tell me to get the hell out? She should do the latter. It’s the safest bet. The easiest out. And I’m always about the easiest out.

  But she takes it. Curling her fingers in mine, she al
lows me to help her out of bed so she’s standing in front of me, naked and beautiful. Without a word I lead her into the bathroom and let go of her hand, admiring her ass as she walks over to the shower and starts the water, flicking her fingers in the spray as she waits for it to warm.

  “Ready?” she asks when steam starts to billow out of the shower stall.

  As I’ll ever be.

  We end up at a hotel in Trafalgar Square, taking a taxi to get there, one of those little black cabs you see on TV when you’re a kid. I’ve been to England once before, but I was too young to care and not really paying attention to my surroundings.

  London is exactly what you’d expect it to be. Bustling and full of people, quick paced and crowded, its streets packed with those red double-decker buses. History is everywhere, staring down at you in the form of one statue or another. They give everyone a statue in this damn city. I bet if I paid enough money I could have my own motherfucking statue erected in some small park.

  I tried to feel Rose up in the back of the cab since the driver wasn’t paying us any mind but she wouldn’t have it, slapping my hands away every time I tried to grab her. You’d think I wouldn’t feel the need to grab her, since she gave me a soapy hand job in the shower that had me coming so hard I had to brace myself against the shower wall for fear I’d slip down the drain.

  Not that I hadn’t returned the favor, fingering her into another orgasm while my mouth remained tight around her nipple. She’s so damn responsive, I had her coming in minutes.

  “Why are you taking me to another hotel?” I ask her as we enter the building. There’s a noisy bar to the right, filled with people around our age dressed to trendy perfection, standing around drinking and talking, loud music blaring over the speakers. I start to head toward the bar but she stops me, dragging me toward a short bank of elevators to the left, just beyond the registration desk.

  “We’re going to the restaurant up on the roof. It’s supposed to be one of those hidden-gem secrets of the city. Violet told me about it. She came here with Ryder a few weeks ago and said the view and the food were excellent.” Rose hits the up button and we wait for the elevator to make its way to the ground floor.