A Gentleman in the Street

by Alisha Rai

  He frowned, but it was more perplexed than angry. “I have to…” His hand came up and touched her cheek. The fresh calluses on his palm rasped her skin as he clumsily brushed away the damnable wetness. “There,” he said. He spoke so low, she had to duck her head closer to hear him. “Better.”

  His task was finished, but he didn’t leave her. His thumb remained, moving an infinitesimal amount. Stroking her flesh.

  Her world narrowed to focus on every point of contact they shared, his intent gaze burning a hole into her. The fine hairs on the back of her neck rose when his index finger grazed her jaw.

  Her head turned toward the subtle pressure. Not much. Enough so his thumb could bump the corner of her lips. Dark lust flashed through his gaze, his lids falling to half-mast.

  He was the one who twitched, his finger gliding over her lower lip, coming to a rest against the center. Acting on instinct, her tongue flicked out, making contact with his skin. It was a tease, not nearly enough to gain any kind of grasp of his taste. She could retain plausible deniability when he jerked away and dumped her off his lap.

  He didn’t chastise her or shove her off for daring to corrupt his offering of platonic comfort. Instead, his thumb remained against the cushion of her lower lip.

  And then exerted the smallest amount of pressure.

  His fingers were on her mouth, not her clit, but her thighs clenched, arousal making her wet and squirmy. Her mouth opened, puffs of breaths warming his finger.

  He gave a wordless exclamation when she sucked him in. She couldn’t break their gaze. There was too much going on in those expressive eyes: shock, nervousness, heat. Yet…not an ounce of disgust.

  She grasped his wrist and sucked his finger like she would suck his cock, hungry for at least this piece of him. Her head bobbed, pulling him in all the way, again and again, until he was shifting beneath her, his face tight and distressed. A hardness had grown against her ass, but her position was too awkward for her to fully experience it.

  Disappointment assailed her when he jerked his finger out of her, her suction so tight, there was a pop of noise. She supposed she would never get to explore his cock now. Or really, any of him, because if this didn’t chase him away forever, she’d be stunned. Akira struggled to regain her usual attitude, make it clear she was entirely unaffected. “Don’t you know? You have to kiss it to make it better—”

  His lips slammed down on hers and cut off her words.

  For a split second, she could only sit, stunned, as his mouth moved on hers. What. The. Fuck.

  Had she ever been kissed like this? Had he ever kissed like this? Because he kissed like he hadn’t tasted a woman in forty years, like she was the last woman on earth. He kissed like there would be no beginning or end without her.

  He kissed her like he…wanted her.

  Fucking. Hot.

  All of the stress of the day, of the morning, of the last six months converged until nothing existed except for his big body, his lips and tongue, his calloused hands, and the scent of him wrapped around her.

  So long. She’d waited so long for this.

  You weren’t good. You don’t get what you want.

  She shoved the annoying, smug voice away and concentrated on the moment, twining her arms around his neck and throwing herself into this kiss that was somehow sexier than full-on fucking.

  His tongue thrust into her mouth, rubbing against hers, exploring her. His beard was surprisingly soft against her skin. She had imagined he would be gentle and hesitant, but his hands were as greedy and grasping as his mouth as they roved over her back, tugging and coaxing and pulling her until she was straddling him, his palms cradling her ass.

  The position was awkward, her snug skirt constricting her. Jacob was a master problem-solver, breaking their kiss to run his hand down her legs and then back up, forcing the fabric up to her waist. Breathing hard, she took in his saliva-slick lips, his focused concentration, the pants making his chest rise and fall. She had to reassure herself she was indeed kissing Jacob, and she hadn’t wandered into some strange wonderland where bearded giants stormed her office to fuck her.

  Not that they were fucking.

  Yet.

  His eyes skated down her body, and she followed his gaze to where her black panties were revealed by her hiked-up skirt. He guided her up, and they both groaned as his jeans-clad dick notched against her pussy. Had she thought he was large before? No, that must have been before he was fully erect.

  Jackpot.

  Gone. She wanted the barriers between them removed. Nothing was more important at the moment than getting his cock inside her and getting off. She ground down on him, his cock forcing her wet panties against her folds.

  “Akira…”

  No, she didn’t want them to talk. Talking would bring reality, and she wasn’t prepared for that. She captured his lower lip between her teeth, biting it hard enough to bring a growl from his chest.

  Her hands went to his fly, but before she could unbutton him he launched up, spilling her to her back.

  She rose on her elbows, ready to fight for what she wanted so badly. Feeling small and delicate was an unusual thing for her, but he was massive as he loomed over her, his arms bracketing her body. His gaze met hers, and the dark, fierce intensity of his arousal stunned her.

  Her lips parted. “Don’t stop.” That wasn’t her, surely. She didn’t beg anyone to fuck her.

  He shook his head once, but didn’t respond. His fingers went to the neckline of her blouse. She expected him to undo the buttons, opening her slowly to his gaze.

  The silk of her blouse disintegrated, ripped off with a few hard tugs. Startled, she let out a squeal and slapped her hand over her mouth.

  He didn’t notice. All of his attention was on her breasts. Her bra fared a bit better than her shirt, because he only shoved the material down until her tits were propped on the shelf of her bra.

  His head lowered, and he licked a circle around her areola before he sucked the nipple in, drawing on it hard. A cry fell from her lips when he backed off, but it was only to lick his way to her other nipple, giving it the same treatment.

  She planted one foot on the floor and twined the other leg around his waist, arching up in a desperate effort to relieve the pressure building inside her.

  His hand steadied her hips, holding her still. “Shh.”

  “I need…”

  “I know what you need. I’ll give it to you.”

  She stopped straining, stunned by the way her body instantly responded to the certainty in his voice. His hot mouth traveled over her breasts and down her belly, biting the flesh above her navel when she shifted. Halting, she tipped her head back and stared at the ceiling. What the hell is happening?

  Even when she permitted a man to treat her roughly or she played at being submissive, she was in charge, not him. She was the one initiating and directing the action.

  She just needed relief so badly. That was all. Everything would go back to normal once she came.

  His hand brushed over the gusset of her panties. One thick knuckle pushed inside of her, rasping the silk over her clit, wetting the fabric. She whimpered, spreading her legs wider in an effort to tempt him into touching her deeper. He grasped the waistband of her underwear.

  Rip it.

  She suppressed a smidgen of disappointment he didn’t go into barbarian mode on the panties, but instead worked them down. The second they cleared her ankles, he tossed them aside before using his grip on her inner thighs to push her legs open farther.

  His dark head was level with her cunt, his wet lips so close she could feel every breath he exhaled. His focus was where she needed it to be, on her pussy.

  His gaze flashed up to hers, giving her a much-needed reassurance she wasn’t the only one of them who wasn’t acting like themselves. Gone was the controlled, distant man she had known for so long, the man who wouldn’t commit a fleshly sin even if his life depended on it. His eyes were hot, filled with passion and longing
and need. Bearded and wild-haired, every trapping of civilization had disappeared.

  He slipped two digits over her pussy, finding her as wet as she’d ever been. His fingers widened into a V, opening her up to him. “Don’t let anyone hear you.”

  His rough, agile tongue rasped over her pussy in a long lick. Whatever thoughts and concerns she had in her brain vaporized into mist as he settled in to feast on her cunt, his tongue fucking into her. She’d been eaten out before, but never like this. He wasn’t an expert, but he was so damn enthusiastic he could be forgiven minor technical errors.

  Of course, she wasn’t averse to helping him correct his form. She tangled one hand in his hair, tugging him away from her pussy. He snarled at her, an animalistic noise, like a dog denied a treat. “My clit,” she gasped. “Lick it. Suck it.”

  He obeyed instantly, two fingers plunging inside to replace his tongue while he licked and sucked and toyed with her clit. She had to swallow her cry when he shifted and inadvertently rasped his beard over her sensitive flesh. He paused, as if gauging her reaction, and did it again. And again, directing that roughness right over her hard clit.

  A fast learner. God bless him.

  His motions grew less refined as he became more aroused, somehow turning her on more than the most choreographed cunnilingus. He groaned, long and low, and the vibration against her cunt tipped her over the ledge, her leg wrapping around his back, a silent scream emerging from her throat. He kept his fingers tight inside her, filling her while his lips delivered soft kisses over her labia.

  Her chest was working like she’d run a marathon, her limbs loose and ready to sink into the carpet. Usually sex revved her up, brought all her senses to laser sharpness, but right now all she wanted to do was curl up and take a nap.

  Correction: all she wanted to do was curl up next to Jacob’s big body, take a nap, and have him wake her up with his more-than-talented tongue in the morning.

  Her lips tilted up, and she let out an airy chuckle. She felt light enough to float away, something strange and large expanding within her chest. “My God,” she said, unable to think of anything else to say. “You could make a fortune off your tongue.”

  At her words, his scratchy face rose from where it rested on her thigh, and even without looking at him, she could pinpoint with sickening dread the second he came to his senses.

  Closing her eyes didn’t help. It couldn’t stop him. Each gesture of withdrawal—his fingers pulling out of her, his body heat leaving hers—shattered something inside her.

  The lightness vanished, a cold weight taking its place. She counted to ten before she opened her eyes, not cowardly enough to hide away. He had moved a solid foot away, his body language hunched over and unwelcoming.

  Her legs were still spread lewdly open. For the sake of principle, she took her time closing them, but didn’t bother to shove her skirt down. When she rose to balance herself on her elbows, her ruined shirt gaped over her breasts.

  He looked up from his contemplation of the rug, his gaze flying over her exposed body. She wanted to cover up. Which was exactly why she didn’t.

  Thankfully, she had braced herself, so she managed not to reel from the horror clearly written all over him. “My God,” he echoed.

  Jacob scrubbed his hand over his mouth, before pulling it away and staring down at it as if he’d been singed.

  She smirked. Her juices were all over his face. She hoped they set him on fire. She hoped she was imprinted on him forever.

  “This shouldn’t have… This can’t happen again.”

  You didn’t deserve to have this happen. Not a muscle twitched in her face. She made sure of it. “You started it,” she reminded him. Mild. Uninterested. Like he hadn’t just blown her mind.

  He raked his hands through his hair and launched to his feet. “I know. I’m sorry. I don’t know… I have no idea what I was thinking.”

  “Probably not with your brain.” She was proud of herself. Just get through this. Get rid of him. “Don’t worry,” she said, her tone as dry as she could make it. “I won’t take this little incident as a sign you like me or anything.”

  The look of anguish he gave her cut her to the quick. This was that painful for him? Really? “It’s not you—” he started to say, his vocal cords rough.

  “Shut up.” God, she couldn’t, wouldn’t sit here and listen to him tell her that inane, blatantly false platitude. Of course it was her. It was always her. “Just. Shut. Up.”

  “I’m sorry. It can’t…It won’t happen again. Please, just…forget it.” He backed away as he spoke, looking everywhere but directly at her. His hand groped behind him, and he found the door handle. “Goodbye.”

  The door shut behind his hasty exit. Akira stared at the door, aware she needed to rise, clean up, change into the spare clothes she kept in the office.

  But all she could do was sit there, in the wreckage of her garments, her defenses stripped, simultaneously satisfied and hungry for more. Hungry for him. Even when he made it perfectly clear how disgusting he found her.

  Underneath the frozen layer of calm she had adopted as a stopgap measure to keep him from guessing her true emotions, a small, hot kernel of rage bloomed.

  Chapter Six

  He should have stayed home.

  One of the joys of Jacob’s career—other than wearing sweatpants to work—was that he rarely needed to interact with humans unless it was absolutely required. Parties and socializing could be kept to a minimum.

  It wasn’t that he hated people. Jacob rolled his shoulders, the bow tie around his neck foreign and uncomfortable. He simply didn’t like most of them as much as he enjoyed his own company.

  And when he’d spent the better part of a week turned inside out thanks to a certain beautiful woman and certain explosive events that had happened on the rug in her office, the last thing he wanted to do was put on a tux and mingle with people he barely knew.

  However, he had committed to this particular dinner months ago. After his father had died of a sudden heart attack, he’d started contributing his time to this heart disease prevention charity. Stephen King he wasn’t, but Jacob supposed he had become something of a public figure in the past couple of years as his books grew in popularity.

  He settled himself against the wall, a watered-down scotch in his hands. He had made some halfhearted bids in the silent auction and greeted the organizers. Once he finished this second drink, he would slip out and head home.

  His lips twisted. Home, where he could deal with Kati’s continued silent treatment and try not to wallow in guilt and self-disgust over his lapse in control five days ago.

  Like that was possible. If he wasn’t kicking himself for kissing Akira in the first place, he was tearing himself apart over how he had run out on her like his ass was on fire.

  After multiple sleepless nights dissecting the encounter down to its guts, he still didn’t know what had possessed him to take her in his arms. At the time, he’d had some vague notion he had to fix the pain bringing Akira to her knees. Seeing her stripped of her sass and strength was wrong. He hadn’t thought before he’d gathered her up, desperate to restore balance to his universe.

  As to why he’d kissed her and all the rest…he didn’t know. He’d only had platonic intentions, until her tongue had flicked his thumb. And then all of the willpower he’d employed for over fourteen long years had gone up in smoke.

  Should never have touched her. He gave a humorless laugh. No shit.

  He ought to apologize, his guilty conscience whispered. He already had, during his stumbled rush out the door, but it wasn’t enough.

  But she was far too dangerous for him to seek out, even to apologize. He now had a proven disastrous track record around her.

  “Jacob?”

  Disturbed from his introspection, he started, relaxing when he recognized the statuesque blonde woman a couple feet away. “Elizabeth.”

  “Oh my God,” she said. “It is you. I thought surely the hermit hadn’
t left his house.”

  His smile was genuine. Elizabeth and he had dated casually for a couple months a few years ago. Their relationship had fizzled, and their breakup had been amicable. Jacob’s breakups were always amicable.

  That was a good thing, idiot.

  “The hermit pokes his head out when he’s paying hundreds of dollars a head for rubbery chicken. Take a picture, these sightings are rare.”

  She chuckled. “Aw. There’s the deadpan sense of humor I loved. It’s so good to see you.” They exchanged a quick embrace. She smelled like lavender. Familiar.

  “Good to see you too.”

  “You look great.” Her blue eyes were admiring.

  He should be returning her regard. She was beautiful and smart, and they had enjoyed a spark once before. If he was clever, that was exactly what he would do. “You too. Can I get you a drink?”

  “Nah. I’m here representing the firm tonight, and I’m saving my allotted glass of wine for dinner so I can numb the pain when one of our senior partners starts to canoodle with his wife.” She cocked her head. “I actually have an extra seat next to me, if you’d like to enjoy your rubbery chicken at my table.”

  He should accept. Any other man would.

  The fact that a larger part of him would still rather go home and sit alone in his house didn’t bode well for their prospects, though.

  He opened his mouth to politely decline and make a smooth exit, but a flash of red in his peripheral vision caught his attention. Was that…? No, it couldn’t be. She couldn’t be here.

  But it was. Akira’s blue-black hair shone under the light of the dozen chandeliers. Amidst the sea of women wearing floor-length gowns in muted colors, Akira’s bright red strapless satin dress was like a crimson flag. The slippery material was cut low in the back, hugged her breasts and small waist, and only came as far as mid-thigh.

  Her jewelry was minimal, not that she needed any more adornment. She was already packaged like the perfect present. Hell, her fancy fuck-me shoes even had little bows wrapped around her ankles.

  What he wouldn’t give to pull those satin bows free with his teeth. Or trace the delicate bumps of her spine with his tongue. Between her bare arms, legs and back, there was too much Akira on display for his sanity.