“It’s okay. I only live three blocks from here. It would barely be worth the trip,” Katie said, unsuccessfully keeping the longing out of her voice.
I wasn’t fooled. She continued to pout and stare at me with her soulful emerald eyes. I was going to hate myself for this later—I just knew it.
“Give me your address, Katie. I’ll take you around the block a couple of times and then take you home. No expectations—just a ride home via the scenic route. Besides, I wouldn't want to find your brothers on my doorstep come morning.” The vision of her hulking brothers was enough to keep me on the straight and narrow with my little kitten.
I lifted the seat of the bike, tossed in my wallet, and gestured for her to add her purse. I handed her a helmet. She smiled widely and put it on. Once I was securely seated, she hopped on behind me and wrapped her arms around my waist. I placed my hand over hers, indicating she should hold on, and we sped away.
She really was little. I barely felt the extra weight of her on the back of the bike, but I liked the way she felt wrapped around me. She was pressed against my back, and I could feel the heat from her body. It put my libido into overdrive. I thought about how her painted-on jeans would be hugging the seat. If I hit a few pot holes, would the jolt cause the seams of her jeans to rub against her sensitive nub? If it did, would I know? Would the heat already emanating from her body get hotter?
What would it take to get her hot—to get her wet?
She wasn't the first woman I given a ride to, but she was the one who’d caused me the most discomfort. I had a strange kind of protective vibe for her as well. Was I concerned that if anything happened while she was on my bike, her brothers would take it out of my hide? Probably, but it was more of a predatory protectiveness, like a wolf protecting its pups, or in this case, its kitten.
It was her vulnerability that made me protective of her. The way her eyes lit up when I offered to give her a ride gave me a sense of joy I had never experienced before. I had given many gifts to women in the past, so why had this little gesture of kindness affect me so deeply?
My kitten was getting to me, and I barely knew her. What did I know? Flag number one, she was a choir girl—I didn't do choir girls. Flag number two, she was an uptight future trophy wife with good posture. She was also a self-confident pool shark who knew her bikes. She was a walking contradiction. Which personality was she really? Who was this little kitten?
It didn't matter. She worked for the company and that made her off limits. Plus, she was right—she screamed jailbait, even if she wasn't. I was too old for her, and she was too inexperienced for me. If I did anything other than take her home untouched, she would hate me tomorrow when she found out exactly who I was and why I was in town.
Better to get her home and get myself back to my apartment. I would fire off a couple of emails, check in with my second-in-command, and get some sleep. Tomorrow was a big day.
I turned into the driveway of a cozy bungalow, pulled into the carport, and sat waiting for Katie to remove her arms. She was holding on for dear life, and I needed her to let go. I didn't want her to let go, but I needed her to let go.
“Katie, you’re home.” I put my hands on hers and held them there for a minute. Her hands were petite like the rest of her, and soft and warm. There was energy pulsing through me, and the source of that energy was the connection of my hands on hers.
Finally, I gently pulled her hands from around my waist.
She glided off the back of the bike, took off the helmet, and handed it back to me. “Sorry… I know it’s the only time I will get to do that, so thank you.” She sounded so sad, and I didn't know what to say. The loss of body heat she’d provided had me chilled from within, but my outer being was hot, overheating, and I unzipped my leather jacket. I took off my helmet and walked her to her door.
“I hope I didn't wake your brothers coming in?” What I actually hoped was that her brothers would not come out and kick my ass.
“I don't live with my brothers. I rent this place from Haley. My brothers can be a little overprotective, and I needed my own space.” She took out her key and unlocked the door.
“Goodnight, Katie.” I leaned down and kissed her on the cheek the way her brothers had. That was all she was going to get from me. My little kitten—a barely-legal choir girl.
“Good night, Aaron.” She did not attempt to return the gesture but instead went inside and closed the door firmly behind her. She understood my intentions. I did what I’d promised. I drove her home—no expectations.
As I lifted my seat to put away the helmet she had been wearing, I noticed her purse. I grabbed it and returned to the door. I knocked softly, and she opened the door and looked at me questioningly.
“Uh… you forgot this.” I handed her the purse.
“Oh, yeah… thanks.” Her voice was low and sober, and she looked sad… or maybe just lonely. She’d said she didn't do one-night stands, but she wasn't acting like she was in a relationship.
A dangerous thought entered my head. I bet I could get her to smile. In fact, I was pretty sure I could get those emerald green eyes of hers to dance like they had at the pool hall when she knew she’d baited me.
What would happen if I dangle the bait in front of her?
“Invite me in, Katie?”
I waited patiently. Would my little kitten bite?
Chapter 6
Katie
“Invite me in, Katie?” he said in the most seductive drawl I had ever heard. His voice sent a vibration to my very core. Everything about this man made my toes curl. I reminded myself that if I invited him in, I was inviting in a man—not a boy. He was no mama’s boy summer romance.
“Do you need an invitation?” I teased.
“Yes,” he responded stoically.
“Why, are you a vampire?”
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “No, I’m a gentleman, and a gentleman never enters unless asked. Besides, I think you have enough overbearing men in your life telling you what to do.”
His amber eyes were no longer laughing. They were glaring, predatory, hungry. Was I the main course? I wouldn’t mind if he was willing to be an all-you-can eat buffet, and the things I wanted him to do me were anything but gentlemanly.
I reminded myself of my personal philosophy. I did not do one-night stands. But… this was different, I reasoned. He was just passing through, and I wouldn’t be running into him around town.
This could be it—my dry spell could be over, and I was anything but dry. My mouth was watering and my core was melting, causing a puddle to form between my thighs.
“It’s just coffee, Katie, something to keep me awake on the ride back.” He was standing in my doorway, hair scuffled from his helmet. He had unzipped his leather jacket when he’d unmounted his bike, revealing the T-shirt taut across his chest and abs.
Where was he going back to, I wondered? What town or city? No matter. He was here now, and the rest wasn’t important.
“Please, Mr. Walsh, won't you come in for coffee?” My voice cracked a little.
He stepped across the threshold, and I closed the door behind him.
“Should I take my boots off?” he inquired. “This looks like genuine hardwood.”
I shrugged in reply. The only genuine hard wood I was interested in was the one bulging through his jeans.
“Would you like an omelet with your coffee, Mr. Walsh?” I asked, playing the perfect hostess.
“Thanks, but I already had dinner, kitten,” he smirked.
“I’m not going to make you dinner,” I said slyly. “I’m going to make you breakfast.”
He turned to face me with fiery amber eyes, his lips curved into a slight smile. Before I knew it, I found myself pinned against the door, his mouth hungry on mine, tasting, teasing with his tongue. I didn't know how starved I was until I tasted him.
His masculine hands ran through my strawberry blonde curls. “I’ve wanted to do this since I saw you in church,” he whi
spered. He kissed his way down my neck and then worked his way back up to my lips.
He broke the connection briefly. “You were at church today?” I asked. He kissed me again before I could utter another word. I pulled away, needing to take a breath.
“Yes, but I only saw these beautiful curls as you were heading upstairs after confession.” He was smiling, his eyes asking the question—why was I at confession?
“Don't I look like a churchgoing man, kitten?”
“Do my brothers look like the churchgoing kind, Mr. Walsh?” I shot back.
“Point taken.” He continued to play with my hair and smothered me with kisses that sent shivers down my spine.
“Why do you call me kitten?” I was curious.
“Beside your gorgeous hair reminding me of a tabby cat?” He nudged at my neck inhaling my scent. “Every time you leaned over the pool table to take a shot, you purred, and I think I know why.” He lifted his knee between my thighs and moved it so the seam of my jeans caused friction against my clit.
I gasped. “Was it that obvious?”
“Only because I was paying attention,” he growled into my ear.
My arousal was sending me into a spiralling depth like I’d never known. Was he going to give me another orgasm against the door with our clothes still on?
He lowered his knee and I groaned. I was so close. He snickered. “Don't worry, kitten, I’m not done.” He lowered one of his hands and cupped me between my legs. I jumped in surprise and anticipation.
He rocked the heel of his palm back and forth across my sensitive spot, and I could feel the swelling growing higher up. I was right about Aaron being out of my league. He was doing things I had only read about in romance novels. I had never experienced anything like this with the men I’d had the occasion to let take me to bed.
Not that there were many—I wasn't one to sleep around with anything with a dick. I had cared about the young men I dated. I just did not love them. Love was never in the equation for me. It didn't mean I couldn't have fun. The young men were fun, but this…I knew this was playing with fire. This was burn in hell and go to confession on Sunday fire. I couldn't confess this to Father Tim. He still thought I was a virgin. Everyone in the congregation still thought I was a virgin. Did Aaron think I was virgin?
Was that why he’d asked my age?
Why was I thinking so much? I should be enjoying the most electrifying sensation I had ever had. I needed to stop over analyzing everything and just feel—enjoy what Mr. Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing was offering. This opportunity only came around for girls like me once in a lifetime. I was not going to let it go to waste.
I began to thrust my pelvis forward, signalling him to continue. Until now, I had been clinging onto his shoulders, and now I moved my hands to his waist and ran them up inside his shirt. He was still wearing the leather jacket and it was getting in the way. I helped him take it off, letting him remove his hands from my body only long enough to pull each arm out of a sleeve before I grabbed it and put it back.
He brought me to the brink and then threw me over, and I lay my head on his chest, waiting for my heartbeat to return to normal. “You’re right… I do purr.”
When I could breathe again, I took his hand and led him down the hallway to the bedroom.
I stopped just inside the entry. “Does the gentleman need an invitation to enter through this door?”
“Yes,” he panted, both palms against the archway of the door.
I began unbuttoning my jeans. “Well then, Mr. Walsh, would you like to come in for… coffee?”
He lifted me off the ground and carried me to the bed, chuckling all the way.
He sat on the edge of the bed and I straddled him. He’d smoothly lifted me and placed me on his lap like he had done it a thousand times. He probably had, I thought, but wasn't that what I wanted tonight? One night of mind-blowing sex so I could get over my dry spell.
He kicked off his boots, all the while never losing contact with my mouth. He was skilled in this as well—very skilled. Probing, he encouraged me to follow suit. My lips were swollen from the passionate way he had taken them. Again, a first for me.
He gripped the hem of my sweater and peeled it off. I was sure I blushed, and I hoped he didn’t notice. I had worn a lacy purple bra with a matching thong, and I feared he was going to think I went to the bar looking to get picked up. He wasn’t going to believe I didn’t do one-night stands dressed like this. But if he thought less of me, he didn’t show it.
He unclipped the clasp on my bra and let it fall to the floor. I knew I had nice breast. I purchased my bras the way Aaron purchased his shoes, never needing to try them on. LaPearl’s Obsession was my go to. I would walk into a store, tell them my size, pay, and leave. I used to shutter to think if they ever discontinued this style.
Now I understood how the poor clerks felt. I would never do that again. I would go into the dressing room and let the clerk help me. Maybe try on something new.
He brushed his hands along my ribs and cupped my breasts, kneading them with his palms. I wasn't the only one purring, but for Aaron it was more of a low growl. If I purred like a kitten, I would have to say he growled like a wolf—my wolf in sheep's clothing. His dirty blond hair and angelic face might say harmless sheep, but his clothes, his bike, and his attitude all screamed Big Bad Wolf.
I was having a hard time not comparing this experience to my others. The small pleasure of having my breasts fondled by Aaron caused a pins and needles burning throughout my body. I felt like I stuck a fork in an electrical socket. Everything around me buzzed, and I barely remembered to breathe.
He took off his shirt and I smiled. I was right. He was hard as a rock, and good God, with muscles like that, he could fuck me all night and not get winded.
Was I woman enough for him?
“Katie, do you want me to stop?”
My trance broken, I asked, “What? No. Why?” Could I sound more desperate? I chastised myself.
“Katie,” he stared me down, “are you a virgin?” He looked less predatory, more concerned.
“No, I’m not a virgin.” I was afraid my apprehension about my inexperience had ruined the mood, and I wasn’t going to know what it was like to have primal, knock your socks off, passionate sex with someone who knew what he was doing. And fudge sticks, I wanted to know.
“I’m not as experienced as you are, and I don't want to disappoint you.” I might as well be honest and let him decide if he was willing to settle for a kitten when what he really wanted was a full-grown lioness.
“Are you afraid I might hurt you?”
No, no, no, I thought, shaking my head. He was being too caring, too compassionate for a one-night stand. I didn't do long term, and that was not what this was about. Then again, it was nice to know that he was concerned about causing me harm. That made me feel more relaxed about what might come next—if he chose to stay.
“What do you want, kitten?” He was playful, stroking my nipples as they thrust against his chest. No one had ever asked me what I wanted.
What did I want?
I grinned mischievously. “I want to know if you really wear a size fourteen, Mr. Walsh.” I smashed my lips against his chest and pushed him back onto the bed. I worked my tongue around his nipples and ground my teeth back and forth, listening for his growls. I had read about this but had never dared try it before. I was surprised at how arousing it was to pleasure him.
How aroused would I get if I worked my way further down? Oral sex had never been my strong suit. I used to tease when I was asked to give a blow job that I gagged on my toothbrush and was not very good at it. It hadn’t stopped my lovers from trying to get me to do it anyway.
Tonight, I wanted to. I wanted to know how he tasted… how he would feel in my mouth. This way I could gauge just how big Mr. Size Fourteen actually was.
I slid off the bed, unfastened his jeans, and helped him out of them. I crooked my fingers into the waistband of his boxers and slid
them down, and my eyes nearly popped out of my head. Holy Jesus! What had I gotten myself into? He was every bit a fourteen, perhaps a fourteen and a half.
There was no way he was going to fit into me at either end—not my mouth and certainly not down there.
If I said no… If I asked him to leave… If I told him I was afraid, would he go?
Chapter 7
Aaron
I was enjoying playing with my little kitten. She was so easy to please. She was taking everything I was offering and giving it back in return. I loved running my hands through her soft strawberry blonde curls.
I enjoyed watching her face and listening to her purr while I pleasured her against the door. I would have been pleased to leave it there if that was all she wanted, but she wanted more—and I would give her anything she wanted.
It had to be because she wanted it. I was aware of her inexperience. It had screamed at me in the bar—the bar where I should have said goodnight and left her to walk home. But I’d seen the fire in her eyes when I offered to take her for a ride. Now I was really going to take her for ride—if that was what she wanted.
I couldn’t remember the last time someone wanted me. Not my money. At least with call girls, I knew what they were after. There was no hidden agenda. My little kitten knew I had money, yet all she wanted was me.
She led me to her bedroom and teased me with an innocent come hither look as she unbuttoned her painted-on jeans. It did not take me long to literally sweep her off her feet and take her to the bed. She was playful, and I liked that. She had perfect breasts, and I could wrap my hands around her tiny waist. What more could I have asked for?
As I stared into her emerald green eyes, I wondered, was she having doubts? Had she changed her mind? Better to find out now before things went too far.
“Katie, do you want me to stop?”
“What? No. Why?” Whatever doubt I saw had disappeared, but there was still something troubling her.
Bastard Heir (The Heirs Book 3) Page 4
