by Shayla Black
Weak.
And Lord knew, her stranger’s charm was potent.
Eyes closed, Lauren lifted the wine to her lips and finished off the last swallow of the dry, fruity blend.
In mid-swallow, she heard a creak, followed by a puff of air. By the time she opened her eyes, it was pitch black in the windowless bathroom. She set aside the glass and thrust back the curtain. The bathroom door was closed and the candle extinguished. No way could she see a thing.
Lauren gasped.
Her stranger was here. She felt him in the air that vibrated, burned between them. Her heart revved up like an F-22’s engine, ready to soar out of her chest. Her mind buzzed. What should she do? She couldn’t climb out of the tub and get past him in the narrow room without him knowing. But she couldn’t just surrender—no matter how appealing that choice sounded.
She was fucked, figuratively and literally.
“Lauren.”
His voice, that lust-gruff whisper. Mr. Mysterious. She exhaled, shaky, anxious…even as she felt parts south go all warm and wet at the very thought of his touch. Wetter still as she imagined Noah sneaking into her bathroom to have his wicked way with her.
“You scared me.” Her voice shook.
“You should know I can’t stay away from you for more than a night now that I know how perfectly you grip my cock. I need to fuck you too badly to stay away.”
His words would have melted her panties if she’d been wearing any. But what about the way she’d rebuffed his declaration of love? She didn’t know much about this man, but she doubted he’d just decided to forget that little incident.
The rustle of cloth, the rasp of a zipper, the whooshing sound of denim hitting the floor. Oh my God. He was getting undressed.
“No. Don’t get naked. Don’t come any closer.”
“Too late,” he growled as he stepped into the tub, a foot on either side of her hips, then sank to his knees and covered her body with every hard inch of his own.
Sweet and forbidden as he hovered over her, all harsh breaths and tense need. Such a perfect fit. Feeling him against her did something to her. Not just her arousal, though she couldn’t deny hers was escalating faster than a jet at takeoff. But her heart gave an unpleasant little thump at the thought of denying him.
Still, she had to stop this. “We can’t—”
“You made yourself perfectly clear on Monday night. No love. Fine. Don’t keep your body from me. Just spread your legs and let me do everything I want to that sweet pussy…”
No. The word was on the tip of her tongue…but she swallowed it when Mr. Mysterious whispered his wicked request against her mouth, then his lips crashed over hers, tongue urging her to open for him so he could ravage her with a ruthless kiss.
Wet, aggressive, he kissed her with scorching skill. Sinking into her mouth farther with each pass of his lips, the kiss felt like he intended to brand her with his possession. He mated with her tongue, and she adopted his rhythm, arched toward him, burned for more. The feel of him amazed her, perfect and male, hungry and demanding, confident and determined. She could totally picture Noah behaving like this with a woman…and the fantasies of him here with her in the bathtub weren’t something she could stop—or wanted to.
The insistent press of his lips smothering the little whimpers that escaped her throat echoed around them. Lauren raised her arms to clutch him. Blessedly bare. Bare back, hard and rippling with muscle when he moved. Bare, bulging shoulders so wide they nearly spanned the width of the soaker tub. Bare face and head, devoid of a mask she noticed as she sank her fingers into his collar-length hair to feel the silky strands with just a hint of wave.
She could absolutely picture Noah here with her now. And she did, throwing herself into the kiss with all the frustrated need he roused, coursing through her.
“That’s it. Let me have your mouth, too. I need it. Then I’ll fuck you so hard and long until you come all over my cock. I’m going to make sure you know who that pussy responds to.”
Lauren whimpered again. Any other man she would suspect of bragging. Mr. Mysterious… If anyone could do as promised, it was him.
But wasn’t she supposed to be saying no? Resisting? Yes, but why? The answer totally eluded her as he pinched suddenly tender nipples—and every nerve ending in her breast remembered his rough, pleasure-inducing treatment from Monday night. They applauded the pinch and roll his fingers bestowed on the hard tips. Before she could stop herself, Lauren arched toward him for more.
Warm water sloshed around them as he readjusted himself, climbing higher up her torso and grabbing her head with a desperate grip. “I need your mouth now. Suck me.”
Then he was palming the back of her head with one hand and guiding his cock to her mouth with the other.
Lauren frowned. She didn’t want this. She didn’t. Oral sex was too intimate. She didn’t know him. Taking him into her mouth and pleasuring him would only make him more insistent that she belonged with him, to him. The intimacy of the act might make the foolish woman inside her think the same thing. She couldn’t risk it.
And yet, when the swollen velvety head of his cock brushed her lips, she opened, unable to resist just a taste. Salty, male, tantalizing. Knowing she could make him leak before she’d even touched him gave her a little thrill.
After a shy flick of her tongue, a long groan spilled from his chest. Lauren relished the sound way more than she ought to. His fingers tightened in her hair, urging her to take more of him, to establish a rhythm with speed and sizzle.
As she wrapped her tongue around the head on the next upstroke, he hissed and cursed and fucked her mouth as if he’d never get enough.
“Yes,” he groaned. “Damn, that’s good… Suck me, sugar.”
Sugar. He’d called her sugar again. Just like Noah. Not totally uncommon for southern men, and she did hear a bit of Texas in some of his growled words. But that wasn’t odd here in Dallas.
Did you hear Noah in his voice because you wish so badly that he was Mr. Mysterious?
If she was honest with herself, likely yes. But with Noah panting after Divorcée Barbie, talking babies and marriage, the chances of him being in her home, in her tub—hell, in her mouth—moaning and clasping her hair in his fists—that was pretty slim.
Lauren pushed the thoughts from her mind. She couldn’t smell anything—a weird defect in her genetic makeup—but she could absolutely taste her Mr. Mysterious. Clean skin, a hint of tang and musk that drove her completely wild.
She reached up to cup his testicles, which felt round and heavy as they lay in her palm. They drew up as she slicked her tongue up his shaft and curled over the sensitive head again, this time giving him a gentle nip of her teeth.
Mysterious hissed. “You’re flirting with danger now. Keep that up and you’ll stay there until you suck me dry.”
Crazy and wild, but his words sent a thrill through her. The thought of having the power and finesse necessary to bring this man to his knees—literally—ramped her up dangerously fast. Her breasts hung heavy, ached. Her sex clamped down with a hungry clench of need. She slipped a hand between her legs and fumbled around for her clit.
The sloshing water must have alerted him. Or was it her whimper when her fingers first made contact with the hard knot of need?
“You touching yourself?” At her nod, he panted, “Oh, yeah. That’s it. Come with me.”
Rubbing furiously at her clit, Lauren’s need skyrocketed within seconds. Blood rushed through her body, heart pumping. Her stranger leaked more fluid into her mouth. Urgency flowed from his fingertips, through his touch, deep into her. She sucked harder, faster. He cursed and groaned, hardened again and pulsed on her tongue. He was seconds away, and desire clawed at her. She wanted this. For some reason, in that moment, she needed to know that she could send him into bliss the way he could do to her.
“Lauren.” He barely got her name out between harsh breaths. “Ready?”
She moaned, dragging her fingertip over
the swollen bud of nerves between her legs, now screaming to explode.
Seconds later, it did. She did, saturating her body with the white heat of lightning pleasure. He joined her, flooding her mouth with the salty taste of him, filling her ears with his ragged groans and a torn curse.
Triumph and elation swirled with an encroaching oh-shit feeling. What had she done? Now she knew the taste of him, and she’d want it again. She was supposed to be discouraging the man, sending him away. Somehow she didn’t think that sucking him to an orgasm so hard he was still trying to find his breath was going to give him the “get lost” message.
“You shouldn’t be here,” she finally uttered.
Above her, his body tensed. “Because you don’t love me?”
“Because I don’t know you. This is insane! You keep sneaking into my house—”
“And you keep letting me into your body. Obviously, I’m not the only one out of my mind.”
“Oh, I agree. My behavior is completely mental. This needs to stop.”
He eased away, stood. The tub started to drain.
“Easy to say that after the orgasm, isn’t it?” he taunted. “Don’t make something out of nothing. You want to fuck and that’s it. I get it. I can be accommodating.”
No doubt, he could be extremely accommodating. But she still heard the anger in his voice. Nothing good could come from this.
“This isn’t a good idea,” she said gently.
“Having your own secret fuck toy isn’t a good idea? Just think, no maintenance. Nothing to share except your pussy and your mouth…and your ass, if you’ll let me have it. No messy emotions or commitments. No man’s dirty underwear to pick up off the floor. No one to hog the remote control. No guy to hear snoring at night. Perfect, isn’t it?”
No one to hold her as she drifted off to sleep. No man to soothe her when she’d had a hard day. No helpmate to care about, to turn to in tough times.
God, he was messing with her head. With her heart. Despite the fact the tub was nearly empty and the air was cold on her wet skin, Lauren drew her knees up to her chest. Hot tears scalded the backs of her eyes, her cheeks.
“What do you want?” she sobbed.
He didn’t reply, but bent and lifted her against his body. Lauren put her arms around him, anticipating the tender warmth of his embrace.
Instead, he laid her out on the soft area rug stretched across her bathroom floor, covered her body with his, and filled her with his cock in one hard thrust.
“I want to give you what you’re after. A good fuck. Another orgasm.”
The grip of his fingers on her hips conveyed the hint of anger that haunted his voice. His words hurt. And yet…she couldn’t stop her body from reacting. After a handful of times inside her, Mysterious already knew how to wring an honest response from her with every quick lunge of his hips and torturously slow withdrawal.
Friction, heat, desire all clawed at her. But there was more. Lauren lifted her hips in welcome, threw her arms around him and kissed the hard line of his jaw in atonement. Her affection had no effect on him. He continued to pound away at her, lifting her from the rug with each ferocious thrust into her body.
“Don’t be angry,” she managed to get out, though finding coherent words not lost in a sea of pleasure was damned difficult.
“I’m not angry. I’m aroused.”
Lauren didn’t believe him, but he robbed her of the ability to protest when he rolled one nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Pleasure shot straight from the sensitive tip all the way down to her sex, which clenched in hunger. He growled and repeated the action.
God, she was getting wetter by the moment. Hotter. The man could drive her to the brink of sanity in minutes. She’d never reacted to Tim or any other man this strongly—ever. It was exhilarating. It was scary as hell.
She couldn’t catch a breath, couldn’t stop herself from responding to him, couldn’t prevent the burn from racing through her body and setting her blood on fire. She couldn’t keep from wrapping her legs around his hips and inviting him deeper. And when his palm skated down her side, over the curve of her hip and settled between their bodies, Lauren couldn’t hold in her whimper.
Her head swam dizzily as he trapped her clit between his fingers, gave her a gentle pinch, and plunged his cock in to the hilt. “C’mon, Lauren. Come for me. Come!”
At the sharp need his touch and his growled command induced, Lauren obeyed, exploding. Shards of light, heat, and colors assailed her. She dug her nails into his back as she clamped down on his cock, milking him, igniting every nerve ending she’d ever felt—and a few she hadn’t known existed.
Then he pulsed, stiffened, roared…and joined her in pleasure.
They shared ragged breaths and racing hearts and tangled limbs. And Lauren couldn’t deny a tug toward the man. He moved her body, without question. And he’d admitted to loving her. Why? She had no idea who he was. And she’d used him for her pleasure. Granted, he’d taken some too, but not happily. The anger in his voice, in his touch, was clear. Guilt tugged at her.
Tonight, she’d meant to say no. To tell him to leave and not come back. A pair of mind-boggling orgasms later…it was too late.
Shame burned, even as the desire to touch him grew. And why? She’d dubbed him Noah in her mind and she didn’t want to let go. She’d given herself to him completely—again.
Now, she was going to have to pay the price by putting an end to this. It wasn’t fair to take pleasure from one man while thinking of another.
Her conversation with Kat came rushing back. Fine time… Now she recalled. She was supposed to tell Mysterious that she wanted someone else. But gee, after sucking him off and then spreading her legs for him so submissively on the bathroom floor, what were the odds that he’d believe her?
Lauren sighed, screwed up her courage, and opened her mouth to hopefully say the right thing to let him down without hurting him. Instead, he withdrew from her body and stood in one fluid motion. Suddenly, she felt cold.
The rustle of clothing told her he was dressing.
Lauren frowned. “You’re leaving?”
He stilled. “You ready for another round?”
Yes. No. Hell, she was confused. What did she want? Lauren searched herself… This was bad. She just wanted him to touch her, hold her. In his arms she felt desirable and sexy, like she imagined a woman in Noah Reeves’s bed would feel.
But she wanted him to actually be Noah. It wasn’t going to happen.
“I didn’t think so,” he muttered.
“You’re just going to go?” she blurted.
A moment later, he grabbed her wrist and looped something around it, then dragged her arm upward. He’d affixed her to her own towel bar. Before she could cuss at him, he snapped a blindfold over her eyes.
“Yep. I offered you more last time. Everything, in fact. You made yourself clear. Sex. Just sex. I got the message. You got fucked. I’ll see you next time I have an itch to scratch.”
His words horrified her. “You son of a bitch. That’s low. That’s lower than low. I never meant—”
The slam of the door cut her off. He was gone. He really had just…got up and left.
Lauren sat stunned. Even if she could have uncuffed her wrist in time to catch him, she wouldn’t have moved. Couldn’t have. She felt weirdly empty. And ashamed. God, what had she done?
On numb legs, she stood and plucked off the blindfold, then leaned over and flipped on the light switch. The face that confronted her in the mirror dismayed her. Flushed and disheveled, lips swollen, hair a ratted mess. She looked like a woman who’d been fucked. Not well loved. Just…used. The way she’d used him.
A fresh wave of guilt assailed her.
Quickly, she untied the loose knot around her wrist and stumbled to her bed as fresh, hot tears burned paths down her cheeks.
* * * *
Noah damn near jumped out of his skin when the doorbell rang.
Lauren had arrived. She would be
here, under this roof. Finally.
The day had dragged on interminably. Staring at Lauren, her hair falling softly over her shoulders, from across a conference room table hadn’t been good for his concentration this afternoon. Remembering the feel of her hot and tight around him while he plunged as far into her as possible and wishing he could merge with her forever hadn't been productive when discussing the business’s bottom line and possible expansion plans. Wondering what she’d thought of Mr. Mysterious’s impersonal booty call in her bathroom had worn his nerves thin.
Earlier today, he’d arranged for the delivery of a collection of erotic vignettes from Mr. Mysterious at her house with certain passages marked, scenarios that were a bit rough, male dominating, sometimes crude. He’d included a note that simply read, Next time I have an itch to scratch… No signature. Had she opened the package, scanned the stories he’d flagged?
It had bothered him like hell to treat her that way, to treat her worse than the dozens of women he’d nailed and forgotten in his past. The confusion and hurt in her voice had torn at him. The way she’d clung to him as he’d risen to dress had nearly caused him to lose his resolve. But he’d held firm, reminded himself that the end justified the means. He had a point to make. And he was close, damn close, to his prize.
Focus.
Now it was time to push last night, today at the office, and everything else aside. At this moment, he wasn’t her boss, or Mr. Mysterious. Now he could just be himself and do his best to gently romance her—enough that she’d start getting the picture, but not so much that she’d run screaming. All the games and subterfuge would end soon.
Noah hoped like hell that he could finally make love to her as himself.
He smiled as he answered the door.
On the other side, Lauren stood with Emma on one side, Cass on her hip, looking spring fresh and scrumptious with a gauzy cover-up that didn’t totally hide her slinky black bathing suit and luscious body underneath. His mouth watered. Other parts were dangerously close to standing at attention in a very visible way.
