His Kind of Trouble

by Terri L. Austin

  She gripped his shoulders, digging her fingertips into his biceps. Being bad had never felt so delicious. “Don’t bother—I like it hard.”

  “Thank God.” Cal bent forward, taking her breast into his mouth. Sucking harshly, he made her gasp.

  “I can take more,” she said.

  Cal pulled the nub with his teeth, biting down. Then he let go. “Too much?”

  Fine tremors coursed through her. “Just enough.” When he did it again, she held on to the back of his neck. “That’s it.”

  Cal kept his mouth on her as he placed his hand between her legs. His slid his middle finger inside her slick channel. Monica’s greedy pussy clamped around it as he worked in and out of her. Cal’s attention to her breast never wavered, even as his thumb circled her plump, aching clit. Then he added a second finger. He curved the tips as he pumped them, finding her sweet spot.

  Flattening both hands on the roof, Monica groaned. She was so close, and though this felt amazing, she wanted his cock. She rode his hand, and the Mustang bounced with their movements. Her pussy tightened on his fingers as she tried to hold off her orgasm. “Tell me you have a condom.”

  When Cal released her breast and withdrew his fingers, Monica bit back a protest.

  “I do.” Cal was out of breath. “I want you to touch me first.”

  She wanted that too—to clasp her hands around that thick, hard shaft. Slide her fingers over the length of him. Monica fumbled with his belt as he lifted his hips and removed the wallet from his back pocket.

  She started to unbutton his jeans, but Cal gently pushed her hands aside and did it himself, lowering the zipper. He jerked the jeans and boxer shorts over his hips until his cock sprang free.

  It was longer than she imagined, reaching past his belly button. Monica folded her hand around it and squeezed, pulling down on the soft skin. She rubbed her thumb across the broad head.

  “That’s brilliant. Keep doing that.”

  Monica longed to see him, his chest, the tattoo, his erection. The next time they did this, she wanted light. Gliding her hand up and down his rigid cock, she stroked his chest with her other hand. She loved his skin, hot to the touch and slick with sweat.

  The windows turned foggy, and the air felt humid. They were in their own little world, and the only sound was their heavy breathing and Cal’s groans of pleasure.

  He captured both of her wrists. “Enough. I don’t want to come in your hand, Miss Prim.”

  “Stop calling me that. I’m on top of you. Naked.”

  “And I’m bloody loving it.” He enfolded her in his arms, and his hands smoothed down her back. With a long, slow stroke, Cal dragged his tongue across her nipple. When Monica moaned, he glanced up at her. “Like that, do you?”

  “Mmm hmm. Do it again.”

  “Say please.”

  Monica thrust both hands into his hair and tilted his head back. “No.”

  Cal laughed, his breath warm against her tingling skin. Again, he licked her breast, using the tip of his tongue to swirl around it.

  “That’s so good, Cal.”

  Fisting his hair, she rubbed herself over the length of his cock. “Inside me.” When he didn’t stop toying with her, she whispered, “Please?”

  “Since you asked so nicely, darling, I’m happy to oblige.”

  Cal removed a foil packet from his wallet. Ripping the package with his teeth, he rolled the condom over his dick, then grasped her hips. “Ready, love?”

  God, yes. Monica answered by lowering herself slowly over the tip. Cal stretched her to the limit. Pausing a moment so she could grow accustomed to him, she took an inch at a time. All the while, Cal gripped her hips with his big, strong hands, holding her steady.

  After fully seating herself on top of him, he thrust his hips. Monica clung to his shoulders for support. Her pussy throbbed around him. Had anything ever felt so good? She couldn’t remember. But then, she could barely recall her own name.

  Cal fucked her at a lazy pace, taking her higher with each long stroke. Monica tried using her hips to increase the speed, but Cal stopped her by lifting her off his dick.

  “What?” she gasped, confused and in need. “Don’t stop. You said a good hard ride. Those were your words.”

  “I changed my mind. I want to see how long you can hold out.” He lowered her back down, but taking control of her body, refused to let her move any faster. Cal worked her the way he wanted, bringing her to the brink of satisfaction but not letting her fall over.

  Monica closed her eyes and enjoyed the feel of his cock pulsing in and out of her. She ceded control, understanding that she’d never had it in the first place. She didn’t know what Cal would do next, and that unexpected quality had her shivering with need. She just hoped he’d let her come soon. “I’m close,” she panted.

  He rubbed his jaw against her breast. “Want to go fast now, do you?”

  “Yes, already.”

  His chuckle sounded more like a growl than a laugh. But he increased the pace by lifting her faster and bucking his hips, ramming into her with swift, deep strokes. That’s what finally made her spiral.

  “Cal, don’t stop. God.” Monica’s pussy clamped down. Delicious tension ran through her entire body. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think. She could only hang on and ride out the waves of pleasure filling her. As Cal continued to thrust, another shock wave burst inside her. Closing her eyes, she cried out. Her inner walls clenched in time with her heartbeat.

  Finally, Cal came too. Over and over he drove inside her, until his own orgasm left him shaking.

  Though their bodies stilled, Monica didn’t let go of his hair, just as he kept a firm hold on her waist. They remained there, united, quiet.

  Eventually, Cal loosened his hold. Kissing her temple, he stroked Monica’s back with one hand. “I want to make you do that again.” With a contented sigh, he gazed up at her. “That was even more amazing than I imagined it would be.”

  “You imagined what it would be like?” she asked.

  He softly stroked her hip bone as Monica lifted herself off him. Then he reached around her and opened the glove box. Extracting a package of tissues, he got rid of the condom. “Of course, didn’t you?”

  “Nope. Never.”

  “Don’t play poker, darling—you’ll lose every time.”

  A smile took over her mouth and didn’t want to let go. Of course she’d thought about sex with Cal. For the last five years. And it was better than her hottest fantasies.

  They huddled together, with Monica lounging on top of him. Cal’s arms hugged her loosely, and Monica smoothed a stray piece of hair from his forehead. She felt so relaxed, with her body curled around his—the close quarters, the dark night, the chirping hum of cicadas in the distance—she never wanted it to end. But her phone vibrated and broke the sensuous cocoon.

  Monica had tossed her bag into the backseat. She had to reach past Cal to get it, which left her breast even with his mouth. He nibbled the underside, causing her stomach muscles to contract. “Cal.”

  “Just turn it off. I like it out here, just the two of us.” His hands spanned her ribs and slid up to cup her breasts.

  Before she could reach the phone, it stopped its annoying buzz.

  “See, isn’t that better?” Cal tweaked both of her nipples into points. She began to ache for him all over again.

  She pressed her nose to his neck and took a deep breath. He smelled of manly heat and wild sex. She felt great. Vibrant. Full of energy.

  Monica liked that Cal didn’t treat her as though she were fragile, that he took control. Her ex, Ryan, had been a very attentive lover, but she felt like a freak when she’d asked him to pull her hair one night. He’d given her a look of such shock, Monica had never asked for anything in bed again.

  “I’m getting cold,” she said, snuggling against him, trying to absorb some of his body heat.

  Cal reached into the backseat and grabbed his shirt. He settled it over her like a blanket, then
cradled her in his arms. “Better?”

  “Yeah.” Resting her head against his shoulder, she started to drift off. This was surreal. Cuddling naked in the middle of the desert with blast from the past Calum Hughes. It had been a perfect evening.

  But reality came calling when her phone vibrated again, shattering her mellow. As pleasant as it was, they couldn’t stay there all night. At some point, they had to go back. “I should get that.”

  “Tell them to get stuffed.”

  Monica reached for her bag. Cal’s fingers caressed her waist as she pulled out her phone. “Hello?”

  “Monica Campbell?”

  “Yes.”

  “This is the emergency room at Las Vegas Memorial Hospital. You’re listed as Ryan McMillan’s emergency contact. He’s been in an accident.”

  Her heart stuttered. A dozen horror scenes raced through her mind. “Oh my God, is he all right? What kind of accident?”

  “He broke his leg, and he’s had some pain medication. If you can’t come and get him, he’ll have to spend the night.”

  Cal stroked her upper arm. “Who is it?” he whispered.

  Monica shrugged him off. “I’m outside of Vegas, but I’ll be there in an hour.” She hung up and started hunting for her bra.

  “What is it, love? Talk to me.”

  Monica grabbed her dress from the driver’s seat and jerked it over her head. To hell with her bra. Hooking her thumbs in the waistband of her thong, she tugged it back into place. “I have to get to the hospital. Can you drive?” She didn’t trust herself; she was too shaky.

  “Of course.”

  Monica reached past the steering wheel, bumped her chin on the stick shift, and snagged her shoes next to the pedals. “Thanks.”

  Cal refastened his jeans. “Who’s been injured?”

  “My ex. Some kind of accident, they said.” Opening the passenger door, she awkwardly climbed over Cal and stumbled out of the car. After slipping into her shoes, Monica smoothed the dress down over her hips. “I have to pick him up now, or he’ll have to stay all night.”

  “Monica, look at me.”

  She stopped her frantic movements and stared at him.

  “I’ll get you there,” he said. “And he’s going to be fine, or they wouldn’t release him. Okay?”

  She nodded, and the fear darting along her nerves lessened. Cal was right. If it were life-threatening, he’d be in surgery or something. It was just a broken leg. She hoped. “Yeah, okay.”

  Cal shrugged into his shirt and scooted to the driver’s seat. Before he started the car, he pointed at her hair. “You might want to tidy up a bit.”

  * * *

  Well, how was that for bloody poor timing? Just when Monica had finally started acting herself, letting her guard down, her bloody ex-boyfriend had to cock things up. This was not how Cal wanted to spend the rest of the evening. This episode had been a prelude.

  Cal wasn’t done shagging Monica Campbell, not by a long chalk. In fact, now that he’d had a taste of her, he wanted another go. And another.

  As he navigated the highway, Cal shot her a glance. Monica’s spine had become ramrod straight. Nervous tension leaked from every pore. She bit on her thumb and stared mutely out the window. Her busy mind worked overtime yet again.

  With that one phone call, she’d reverted back to that uptight woman with the unattractive suits. But he’d had a glimpse of the real Monica. The one who drove fast and enjoyed hot sex out in the wide-open desert. And came so hard, she gasped with abandon.

  When Monica said she wanted to drive the Mustang, Cal had no idea what a turn-on it would be—the joy on her face, the look of fierce concentration as she shifted. He grew hard all over again just thinking about it. But now Miss Prim was back. Damn shame, that.

  Cal focused on driving close to the speed limit. Other than giving him directions, Monica remained silent on the return trip. When he swerved into the hospital entrance, Monica unfastened her seat belt. “You can drop me off at the emergency door. Thanks for tonight, Cal. Sorry it had such a weird ending.”

  Drop her off? Not bloody likely. He wasn’t about to leave her alone with her ex. How long had they been together, and was it really over? Apparently not, since she couldn’t run to his side fast enough.

  Hold up, was he jealous? Was that what this horrible feeling was, pouncing on his chest, working him up until he gripped the steering wheel so hard his fingers cramped? Possibly. Stupid and irrational, but there it was.

  “I’m coming with you,” he said. “I’m not leaving until I know you’re all right.”

  Monica whipped her head around to stare at him. “That’s totally not necessary, Cal. I’ll take a cab home. I’ll be fine.”

  He circled the car park until he found a spot. “And yet, I’m not leaving your side.”

  She shifted her upper body toward him. The yellow haze of the parking lights allowed Cal a tantalizing view of Monica’s braless tits in that low-cut dress. Her nipples tightened beneath his gaze. Less than an hour ago, he’d had her naked, straddling him—had been palming those breasts.

  “Cal, I had a lovely time, but this is my real life, and I need to get back to it.” Monica swiveled and opened the door, then leaped out of the car. With quick, short steps, she walked toward the entrance.

  A lovely time—that’s all it was? To Cal, it had been brilliant. Illicit, raunchy, amazing sex. He couldn’t even form a coherent sentence afterward.

  Despite Monica’s quick steps, Cal exited the car and caught up, matching his stride with hers. “It was more than lovely. It was bloody fucking fantastic. And what the hell does that mean, your real life? Am I an illusion?” Her choice of words rubbed him the wrong way.

  “Come on, Cal, let’s not pretend this is something it isn’t.” She kept walking, kept looking forward.

  Cal placed his hand on her elbow and pulled her to a stop. “What we just did is about as real as it gets, love.”

  “No, it’s not.” With twisted lips, she finally gazed up at him. “We’re having fun, remember? My job, the gala, Ryan’s broken leg—they’re real life. You’re like a trip to Disneyland. Adventurous and exciting, but I know it’s going to be over in a couple of days. I have to go.” She stood on her toes and kissed his cheek. “Take care of yourself.”

  Cal had never been so stunned in his entire life. “What the fuck are you on about? I thought we were having a good time, yes, but I didn’t realize my cock was simply a theme-park ride. I think I’m insulted.”

  “You know I didn’t mean it like that.” She glanced over her shoulder in a self-conscious move. They were closer to the entrance now, and a group of people walked out of the building. “You’ll be leaving soon, Cal. Ryan needs me. What am I supposed to do?”

  He captured Monica’s face in his hands, his thumbs stroking her soft cheeks. “Just out of curiosity, what ride am I?”

  She paused a moment. “Big Thunder Mountain?”

  Cal grinned. “I can live with that.” He leaned down and delivered a soft kiss. He ran his hands down the length of her forearms. “In we go. I’ve always wanted to see a Vegas hospital. It’s been my fondest dream since I was a lad. So, what ride is this Ryan fellow? It’s a Small World?”

  Her lip curled in a scowl. “Those are the comments you’re going to keep to yourself.”

  He began moving toward the entrance, leaving her behind. “Are you going to stand there all night?” He didn’t bother to stop or turn around. But a smile crept over his face when he heard her shoes tap along the pavement as she tried to catch up.

  Chapter 10

  When Cal walked into the large, square room, it was packed with people needing urgent care—most of them pissed to the gills, if the overwhelming stench of alcohol was any indication. “Don’t light a match,” he whispered, “or we’ll all be blown to bits.”

  Monica broke away from him and hastened to the front desk, where a man in a chartreuse jacket and white linen slacks intercepted her. Was this Ryan, the blo
ke with the mussy hair and unfortunate clothing? Surely not, he had two working legs.

  Cal strode forward and held out his hand. “Hello, Cal Hughes.” A bit on the short side—just under six feet—he wasn’t hideous, but Cal didn’t see anything special about him either. He wore his bored arrogance like a badge of honor, though. Full of himself. Confidence in one’s ability—that was acceptable, but unfounded arrogance simply grated.

  “Evan Landers.” He inclined his head toward Monica. “Glad you’re getting this one out of the house. She works too much.”

  So this wasn’t the ex, then. Suddenly, Evan seemed slightly more tolerable.

  “If you’re already here, Ev, why did they call me?” Monica asked.

  “The hospital didn’t call me. I received an incoherent text from Ryan. I thought you were hurt and rushed right over.” With a sigh, he grabbed his mobile from his pocket and ran a finger over the screen. “Read.” He held it up to Monica.

  Ev, ouch. Hurt bad. Memorandum hospital. Monica. Cockatiel balls feet.

  She gazed up at him. “What does that mean?”

  “I did say incoherent.” Evan glanced at Cal. “I am speaking out loud, right? You can hear me?”

  Monica glowered, so Cal held his grin in check.

  “Is Ryan all right? Why didn’t you just call him back?” she asked.

  Evan smacked his forehead. “Call him? God, you’re a genius. Why didn’t I think of that?” He shoved the phone back into his pocket. “I did call him. And I called you. Check your messages, why don’t you? Then I left Heather at my apartment—naked and covered in whipped cream, I might add.

  “Turns out Golden Boy broke his leg while riding his bike. A hit and run. I’m tagging you in and hoping I still have a chance of getting laid tonight. The dress looks fantastic, by the way. Although a little wrinkled. And where’s your bra?” He glanced at Cal. “Good job, you.” He bent down and bussed Monica’s cheek. “I want details later.” Without a backward glance, Evan sauntered to the door.