Taking Her There

by Olivia Brynn

  “That’s right. Play with that pretty pussy. But you don’t come until I give permission. Got that?” He finally met her gaze.

  “Then hurry.” She twisted and tugged on her nipple.

  “But I’m not in a hurry, so you’ll just have to wait.” He joined her on the bed, up against her right side, and immediately took that nipple into his mouth.

  Angeline arched into the caress. The heat of his mouth added a new dimension to her torture. He sucked, drawing more of her tit inside, where his tongue flicked and teased the tip.

  She held on to his head, tangling her fingers in his hair, her breath shallow and choppy.

  He held her nipple between his teeth until she squealed. “I said play.”

  Jesus. The small bite of pain sent another thrill through her, mixing with the desire so that they braided together into a longer spiral of need. She reached down, her clit now so sensitive she had to soften the touch, then slid two fingers back deep inside.

  Andre hummed his approval and sucked.

  “Yes. God, no…yes.” She whimpered and squirmed, but he wasn’t persuaded to hurry things along. He just moved from one breast to the other and began the sanity-reducing treatment all over again.

  Angeline couldn’t move, the sensations too overwhelming, but he noticed and covered her hand with his and continued the onslaught. “You stop, and I stop.”

  “But I’m too close. Please. Let me come.”

  “Ahh, poor little rich girl.” He pulled her hand away, and, with his weight resting on top of her in the most deliciously sexual way, he took her other hand and held them both up near her head. One adjustment with his hips, and his cock nudged her opening. “All wound up and ready to go.”

  She bumped her hips against his, but he was too fast.

  “You think I don’t want to bury myself deep inside your sweet pussy? Do you have any idea”—he pecked a row of kisses across her jaw—“how fucking hard I am right now?”

  “Do it.”

  “But I haven’t tasted you yet.” He dragged his tongue from her chin down her neck, an agonizingly slow journey between her breasts and lower. His next words puffed air against her sensitive folds. “And I’ve been dying to lick you.”

  And he did. After one long drag along her slit, he wiggled his tongue into her pussy.

  Again, she reached into his hair and held on tight for a ride she knew would be way too short. With agonizing leisure, Andre lapped, nibbled, sucked and even stroked with one long finger.

  Just when she felt herself reaching the peak, he backed off before she could sail over the edge.

  His tongue was talented. He flattened it out for broad strokes and stiffened it to press and prod. Still, he avoided her clit, only stimulating it with whispers of hot breath. On and on it went.

  “Andre.”

  In an instant, he hovered over her, his lips against her ear. “You know what you’re doing?”

  “Yes.”

  His cock settled against her opening. “This is happening so fast.”

  “We’re adults. Now please. I want to feel you there.”

  He looked into her eyes. Something deeper than just the desire for a quick fuck simmered behind his dark brown irises. Slowly, with more control than she had herself, he inched forward, sliding into her already sensitive channel, filling her. Stretching. Stroking every damn nerve ending inside her until she wanted to scream. Once fully embedded, he buried his face in the side of her neck.

  “So good. Wrap your legs around me, Angel. And hold on.”

  She locked her ankles behind his thighs and dug all ten fingers into his back. He pulled out, then thrust back in. Then again.

  “Jesus. Andre.”

  Fluid and rhythmic, each movement served to build up the tension inside her until the spring had been coiled to its breaking point. All it took was his one hand to cup her breast and pluck at her nipple before she moaned in release. Showered in the almost sparkling sensation that washed through her, her skin tingled, her toes curled and spots danced in her vision. Her sex clamped around his cock, squeezing him with each contraction.

  He slowed his pace as she recovered, bringing her safely down from her high. “Beautiful.” He tugged on her earlobe with his teeth. “I’d like to feel that again, but I don’t think I’ll last. You’ve got me so hot for you.”

  “Go. I want it. Hard.” She tilted her hips, forcing him deeper.

  He slipped his arms beneath her shoulders and buried his hands in her hair. With one last kiss on her neck, he stared into her eyes, his gaze bone-meltingly intense.

  “Welcome home, Angeline.”

  Chapter Three

  His release zapped him of further rational thought. He arched his back and barely stifled a primal scream. The orgasm seemed to go on forever. Each spit of semen into the condom was another smaller jolt of intense sensation. It took several heartbeats before he could collapse, gathering Angeline into his arms for only a moment before he pulled out and disposed of the condom.

  “That was amazing.” Her voice was quiet, relaxed.

  He grinned, tucking her beneath his chin. “Are you sure you weren’t just starved for sex after six months in Redlands?”

  She sighed. Her hands roved over his back, raising goose bumps. “Maybe you’re right. Or maybe I can’t remember the last time I had sober sex. It probably has nothing to do with you at all.”

  “Maybe we’ll have to give this another shot or two. Just to see.”

  “Mmm.” She snuggled against him, her sweet, baby-powder scent enough to make his exhausted dick twitch. “I had no idea you were such a fan of scientific research.”

  He couldn’t get enough of the silky texture of her skin. When he reached her hip, he slipped his hand beneath her thigh and lifted it over his waist, bringing them even closer. “When science is this much fun? Count me in for extra credit.”

  She hummed. The sound of a satisfied woman. A few moments later, her breathing grew deep and steady. He pulled a blanket over them both. Soon he realized his heartbeat and breathing had synced with hers.

  Don’t get used to this, Salidas. He pressed a kiss onto her forehead and left his mouth resting against her skin. They came from drastically different worlds. He’d be a novelty that would quickly wear off.

  He pinched his eyes shut, his heart now pounding. Sure, he’d been lusting after Angeline Rowe—just like every red-blooded heterosexual male on the planet—and faced with the possibility of actually touching…tasting, loving…he didn’t have the strength of willpower to back away. But the fact of the matter was, she employed him. If things ended badly, he’d be out of a job. And a place to live.

  His thoughts went to his tiny apartment attached to Angeline’s garage. And the canvas taking up most of his living area. His first big commission. For the newly elected governor. They’d already sent out a press release for the unveiling—his painting along with two others and a sculpture. Hopefully it would be well received and would lead to even more jobs. He couldn’t ask for more press coverage for one of his works.

  A painting that he still couldn’t finish. The final product sat in his mind, overlaid onto the half-finished reality. And lately the mental picture of the complete piece had morphed into something less defined. He had to get back on track or risk losing all credibility. He’d never get another chance like this.

  Colors, tones and textures swirled through his thoughts until Angeline shifted against him. Smiling at her peaceful slumber, he soon joined her.

  He cut both sandwiches in half and stacked them onto a plate. Thirty minutes ago, he’d been lost inside a kitchen his entire apartment would fit into, but he’d found enough to make them a picnic dinner. It had to have been Percy who’d stocked the kitchen and even replaced every bottle in the wine cooler with sparkling cider. Andre put one on ice in a bucket, then onto a tray with the rest of their snack to carry back upstairs.

  He kicked open the door to find her still sleeping, her long leg peeking from beneath t
he blanket and just the curve of one breast exposed. Her short blonde hair stuck out, sexily mussed and begging for his hand to rake through the silky strands. Full lips, soft clear skin…damn. The woman was captivating, both on-screen and off. As lust filled his veins, he set their meal on a nearby chair, then knelt beside the bed to kiss her ankle. He worked his way up the shapely curve of her calf, avoided the back of her knee, then on up to her hip bone where his primitive self was tempted to leave a love mark.

  “Do it, and I’ll kill you.”

  He grinned and met her gaze. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “You growled. It doesn’t take much imagination.”

  “Heh.” He nibbled up her side, licked the plump curve of her breast, then swirled his tongue around her earlobe. “I don’t growl.”

  “Yes, you do.” She threaded her fingers through his hair. “It’s sexy as hell.”

  “Maybe you heard my stomach. I’m starving.”

  “Mmm, me too. Come here and put something in my mouth.” She kissed him as if she could nourish herself with his tongue.

  God, she tasted good. Even after a nap, her tongue was cool and fresh against his. Before he could lose himself in her allure, he rolled off the bed.

  “I made sandwiches. Hope you like roast beef.”

  She sat up and eyed the tray. “You can cook?”

  “No, I can make sandwiches.”

  She rubbed her hands together as he brought the tray over to set on the bed. “And wine? I’m telling Percy.”

  He lifted the bottle and showed her the label. “I think this was Percy’s idea.”

  She scoffed. “So much for trusting me.” She grabbed a potato chip, then excused herself, returning from the restroom a few minutes later wearing a soft pink robe. “God, I needed that nap. I never did get used to the bed at Redland.”

  “I can’t remember the last time I napped.” They sat cross-legged with the tray between them. Her robe gaped open at the neck, giving him quick peeks at her cleavage.

  “I gave you plenty of downtime before I got busted.” Her brow wrinkled, and she tilted her head. “What do you guys do when you’re not driving people around?”

  Andre finished chewing his bite, then dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “I don’t know about other drivers, but I work on my art with every spare second I have.” He opened the bottle of sparkling cider, then poured them each a glass.

  “You’re an artist? How come I didn’t know that before?” She saluted him with her juice before taking a sip.

  “Well, it’s not like we’ve ever had a chance to sit and chat.” He didn’t mention the fact that she’d barely looked him in the eye, let alone asked about his personal life.

  She chewed on her bottom lip and picked the crust off her bread. “I was such a bitch. From what I remember during my sober stints, at least.”

  He reached out for her hand. “Just…distracted. You’re a busy woman. Lots on your mind.”

  “I was a bitch, Andre.” She took another bite and made a show of refilling their glasses.

  He continued eating, hoping with each bite that his smile wouldn’t show through. So she didn’t like things sugarcoated. He should have guessed that about her. She’d apparently worked out a lot of issues during her stay at Redlands, but some would take time. Owning up to past behavior had to be a good sign, though.

  “What kind of art?” She brushed the crumbs from her hands. “Like Picasso or like da Vinci?”

  He held up a hand. “I couldn’t even think about mentioning my work in the same breath as either man.”

  She giggled, the earlier tension gone. Now her face glowed with youthful exuberance. “So what do you do? Sculptures? Modern art made out of trash? You cover national monuments with lace? What?” She wrapped her arms around her knees, looking genuinely interested in his answer.

  “No sculptures. I never liked the way clay felt in my hands, and I’d probably seriously injure myself with a chisel. I paint. Oils, mostly, but some pieces beg for acrylics.”

  “Ever sell anything?”

  Andre handed her her wineglass before moving the tray to the side table. Leaning back against the headboard, he gestured for her to join him. The fact that she curled up against his side—resting her head on his bare shoulder as if they’d known each other for years—shouldn’t make him so damn happy, but he wasn’t about to question it now. He just pulled her a little closer and picked up his own drink.

  “A few things. I had a show last year that was really well received. The candidate for governor was there; she really loved my work. She told me if she got elected, I’d have to promise to paint her an original for the mansion.”

  “And did she? Get elected, I mean.”

  He snickered. “Didn’t they let you guys watch any news in that place?”

  “Yeah.” She shrugged. “I usually just stayed in my room though, and CNN isn’t really my style. I watched a lot of old black-and-white movies.”

  “You’re a closet romantic!”

  “I am not!” She slapped his arm. “Now quit trying to distract me. Did she win the election or not?”

  “She did. And sure enough, I got a phone call less than a month after the inauguration.” His entire being still buzzed at the memory of that phone call. His big break.

  “And? What did you paint for her? Did she love it?”

  He shifted, then finished off his drink, set the glass aside and took her hand. “It’s not finished yet. She’s planned a big dinner party in two weeks where she’ll unveil it to the world. I guess I’ll find out then if she loves it.” Or not.

  Again, he pictured the canvas. So clear in his mind, he might as well be standing in front of it. In fact, he’d stood staring at it in its present state for countless hours; it was likely burned into his brain. Something was wrong, but he had no idea what. The realization sent panic through his system, which fed a kernel of insecurity about his art, until the longer he looked, the less he saw and the more he doubted. He didn’t know how to crawl out of the downward spiral, and he’d taken the canvas in hand several times over the past month with the intention of tearing it to shreds.

  “Andre?”

  “Hm?” He blinked, focusing on Angeline’s smiling green eyes.

  “I lost you there for a minute. Feel like you need to be working on the governor’s painting?” The pad of her middle finger traced his nipple.

  “Lately I haven’t been working. Just a whole lot of staring and cussing. Maybe a little screaming.” He took her empty glass and set it beside his.

  “Try music?” She cuddled back against him.

  “From rap to opera. I think I’ve tried everything.” He reached down to cup her ass through her robe. “But with this kind of distraction, why would I want to focus?”

  “Oh now, don’t blame me. I don’t want the governor on my ass. I’ve managed to stay off political naughty lists so far.”

  “You’re naughty?” He rolled them both over until he had her pinned beneath him. “I think that’s half your appeal.”

  “Only because you’re naughtier.”

  “Well, isn’t that sweet?”

  Andre flopped to the side and whipped his head in the direction of the voice in one movement.

  Holy shit.

  Luke Edwards.

  Chapter Four

  “Luke.” Angeline scrambled to cover herself, the heat of embarrassment flooding her cheeks. “What are you doing here?”

  Luke used the grin he employed to get his fans to toss their panties on stage. “Well, I didn’t come to watch you fuck your new boyfriend.”

  “He’s not—” Angeline shot Andre a panicked look. “He’s my…” The words wouldn’t come out. Finally she just shut her gaping mouth.

  “I’m gonna go.” Andre swung his legs from behind Angeline and picked up his shirt.

  “Wait—”

  “No, really.” He pulled it over his head before she could get another word out. “You two should probably
work this out, and I don’t need to be here for that.”

  “Smart man.” Luke folded his arms. “In fact, just go ahead and do your walk of shame all the way off the property. There’s a nice group of hounds waiting outside. They got their share of pictures of me coming in, so your quick exit should make for interesting headlines in next week’s grocery store checkout lanes.”

  Oh God. Angeline covered her face. A sex scandal within forty-eight hours of release. She could already imagine the late-night talk shows’ monologues. Percy would have a coronary. Damn it, why did she have to live her life under the microscope? If she were just an ordinary girl working a nine-to-five in suburbia, no one would give a shit about her love life. Her career certainly wouldn’t suffer because of it.

  Quit whining, Angeline. You signed up for this, remember? It’s your freaking dream come true, even. She forced herself to breathe steadily, though her heart pounded loudly in her ears. Why the hell did she always screw up? Tears burned her eyes, but she refused to cry. Not now. She needed to figure out what to do. How to fix this.

  Deep breaths. She’d call Percy. He’ll know what to do.

  “So I guess you didn’t want to introduce me to your new man?”

  Angeline looked up. As she focused on herself—as usual, she sneered—Andre had left, and only Luke stood in the middle of the room with a smile that sent a shiver down her spine. If she thought he’d come to win her back, that smile proved that theory wrong. There wasn’t the faintest sliver of jealousy behind those eyes. Just humor that he’d caught her with her pants down.

  “What do you want?”

  “Not ‘hey, how are you’? I don’t get an ‘I’ve missed you, Luke’?”

  “Oh, like all those phone calls, e-mails and visits from you in the last six months? While I was shaking from withdrawal and dealing with sobriety? While everything I knew and loved was torn away from me and I had to play fucking board games to express my feelings? Like all those times you asked how I was? You’re the one who abandoned me.” With the dirtiest look she could muster, she tugged the lapels of her robe tightly together at her chin and stomped over to her closet, where his chuckle followed her.