by KB Winters
Her green gaze flared with heat and her small hand wrapped around my cock. “I love how thick you are. I didn’t get to explore you properly in Tokyo.” She stroked me with a firm grip, sliding my cock through the juices spilling from her pussy until every inch of me was coated with her. “Yes,” she hissed out as she fed my cock inside her. “Ethan.”
I took over, I couldn’t fucking help it, sliding inch by slow torturous inch until I filled her completely. “Fuck you’re so tight.”
“Maybe you’re just big,” she said with a saucy smile, arching her back so her nipples were within licking distance. “Ah, yes!” Her hands grasped wildly at the bedding, searching for something to keep her grounded.
Fuck that, I didn’t want her grounded. Grabbing her wrists and holding them over her head with one hand, while my other palmed her hip and tilted her up so I could slide even deeper. Touching every part of her I stilled, needing to gather my shit so I didn’t come too soon. But the little vixen moved her hips and I gritted my teeth. “Misha.”
“Please Ethan. I need you.”
Those must’ve been the magic fucking words because my body could do nothing but act, pounding into her sweet pussy like it was the only thing that mattered, because to me, it was. The slow drag out of her pussy made her wild, soft keening cries filled the room with slow moans and I drove deep.
“Yeah, just like that. Fuck you feel so good.”
“Say it again.”
She shook her head, licking her lips with a siren’s smile.
“Say it again.”
“Your cock feels so good, Ethan.”
I released her wrists and palmed her thighs, spreading her wide as my cock disappeared into her fast and hard, deeper and deeper as she began to pulse and clench around me, pulling me in like her pussy couldn’t get enough of me. “Fuck.”
“Ethan,” she moaned my name over and over, that husky growl in my ear brought my balls up tight and I knew we were both close. “So good, Ethan.” Misha’s head thrashed from side to side and my hips kept up a frantic pace. Soon her body bowed and convulsed as her orgasm shot through her and triggered my own.
“Ah, fuck. Misha!” My hips thrusted hard, rough with need, slamming hard as she wrung every drop of come from my cock.
“Fuck me, that was…amazing.”
My laugh was harsh and deep at her words and that smile of wonder she wore, like she couldn’t believe it. “Yeah.”
“I can still feel you pulsing inside me,” she whispered as her pussy clamped around me, hard. “Ethan, yes.”
I don’t know how, but this time was even hotter than the last and I didn’t know if I would ever get enough of having this woman in my bed.
Fourteen
Misha
The hardest part of my job was stepping back into the shadows and letting the client sink or swim. It was gut-wrenching and right now my stomach was so full of acid that I could probably dissolve steak and Coke in a matter of seconds. Ethan would be fine, I was pretty sure of that. At least I hoped he’d be, but I could never tell what happened in these situations until, well, until it happened.
Today was the first round of his series of interviews and his people had, wisely, chosen The Women because it was a mostly friendly audience, not to mention Aegle’s target demographic. The Women were made up of two actresses, a former pop princess turned human rights activist, a lawyer and a former award-winning journalist. They were friendly, intelligent and most of all, forgiving of small mistakes and no matter how the media wanted to spin it, Ethan’s misstep had been a minor one.
Even knowing all that, watching off camera where I couldn’t rub his arm in comfort, killed me. A sure sign that I’d gotten too close. Way to close.
“Personally, I am a big fan of the Super Cleanse smoothies.” Glory Goodwin gushed. “I mean after award season parties or a late night with my girls, that helps me get back in the game the next day!”
The other women agreed and Ethan blushed lightly, drawing a few sympathetic ‘awws’ from the audience. “Thank you. I think Glory’s just given me a new marketing campaign,” he flashed that killer smile and the women in the audience went wild.
“Do you really eat that healthy all the time?” Tara Winchester asked. “I’d practically starve before I started filming and then I would gorge after we wrapped.” She sighed and flashed some side eye to the camera. “It was fantastic!”
“I really do. One of the things I learned as a model was the fastest and unhealthiest ways to lose weight and I was determined to find a way to do it right.” He smiled at each of the women and the audience was rapt as he spoke quieter. “I learned about all the natural things in the world—foods, drinks, herbs, plants and all—that could keep me happy, healthy and whole.” I grinned at his words, perfect because they were a perfect tagline that also sounded completely genuine. “The better I feel, the more things I can do.”
“Speaking of,” Meredith Kincaid asked in her trademark newscaster voice, crisp and a little husky, “is there someone special in your life?”
“There are many special someones in my life, but my favorite is a bossy little girl named Lily. My niece.” It was a perfect answer and I knew he’d already won over the audience.
Michelle Trent though, not so much. “That’s all great but, what in the hell were you thinking talking to Samantha Stevens that way?”
I knew there would be trouble by the way his jaw twitched at her question. “I was thinking that some things just aren’t other people’s business Michelle. But I could have handled it better.”
She nodded, lips pursed and I knew she’d be the one to try and make a few headlines. “You’re a public figure.”
“So are you,” he glared, “and I seem to remember you paid a pretty hefty fine for punching a cameraman. All I did was ask a personal question in return. Maybe if she had answered, I would have.”
There were quiet murmurs in the audience and one lone woman yelled out, “That’s right Ethan!”
Bless that woman because it broke the tension in the studio. For everyone but Michelle fucking Trent. “And you thought that was appropriate?”
“No more than pressing me on a question I said I wouldn’t answer.” His blue stare was fierce and I held my breath, waited for Ethan to unleash the fury held within the depths of his eyes. They were locked in an intense stare down when Meredith Kincaid spoke up.
“After the break let’s talk about how much we can expect to keep quiet in this age of celebrity.” They broke for the commercial and Ethan stood, removing his microphone and politely thanking each woman. Even Michelle. But rage rolled off his shoulders as he stalked towards me and then past me.
I finally caught up with him outside the studio and I stopped, watching him yank the door open with enough force to rip it off at the hinges. So that was his mood. I gingerly slid into the back of the limo, keeping my distance as the traffic merged into the noisy New York City. I knew he was upset and I understood why. What I didn’t get was how it was my fault.
“I can’t believe that happened! Some help you were back there!” He shook his head, disgust replacing the anger, not fully but enough that his expression twisted with it. “All of this shit and it didn’t help at all. Michelle made me look like an asshole!”
I sighed, letting him get it all out because until he did he’d be in no place to listen. I sat there like a bump on a soft leather log while he gave me a tongue lashing to rival all tongue lashings. Eventually I got mad. A woman could only take so much shit, especially when the fault didn’t lie with her. “How is it my fault that you didn’t do what we talked about?”
He froze, frowned and twisted his mouth in an adorable pout that I almost didn’t want to shake loose. “I don’t know! It just is.” He fell back against the seat and raked a hand through his hair.
“No need to yell,” I told him quietly, stifling a snicker at how ridiculous he was being. But it wouldn’t stop coming and I covered the laugh with a cough that convinced absol
utely no one. His look darkened and I lost it, laughing so loud and so hard my whole body shook. The more I laughed, the harder it became to stop until Ethan was laughing too.
“I really fucked that up, didn’t I?” He wore a sheepish grin that was equal parts adorable and sexy.
I lifted my shoulders and let them fall dramatically. “I wouldn’t say fucked up, per se. But I do think we can use this situation to our advantage.” I told him about the idea swirling in my head and the wider his grin spread the more I wish I knew every word in the English language so I wouldn’t have to stop talking.
That. Fucking. Smile.
“That hippie girl exterior of yours is misleading as fuck, Misha.” He laughed and shook his head. “You’re some kind of sorceress, right? That’s the trick to your fixing people, magic?”
“Me?” I laughed at his bewildered expression, feeling a little lightheaded under the power of his smile. “I’m just Misha.”
“You are many things sweetheart, but you’re not just anything.”
Damn that was a surefire way into a girl’s heart and her panties. “Just think Ethan. We have nine whole days before we have to do it again.”
He groaned.
I laughed.
Fifteen
Ethan
Pink couches. Part of my redemption tour was sitting on a fucking pink couch talking to Brett & Megan in the Morning, two of the perkiest people I had ever met in my entire fucking life. They were nice enough, a little too boisterous for seven in the morning with smiles too bright and teeth too damn white. Like everyone in Nashville, they spoke loud and laughed loud, making me feel comfortable. Lowering my guards. But none of that mattered because I had my game face on. “Good morning Megan. Brett. Great to be here.”
“And it’s great to have you here with us! Welcome Ethan Mahoney, ladies and gentlemen!” The audience clapped and cheered and I sent them a friendly wave.
“Ethan, I’m such a fan of your Man Cans,” Brett gushed. “The name is so fun, isn’t it y’all? Plus, it’s my favorite thing to drink after spending time in the gym.” He flexed his muscles while the audience of forty-something women and a few husbands hooted their approval.
“That’s exactly what I use it for, Brett. Especially after you push it too hard on a leg day.” So far, so good. But after my interview with The Women, the whole country seemed to be talking about it. Luckily the good press was in my favor, but still the woman had a lot of damn nerve.
“I have to say Ethan I do love your philosophy on eating and living healthy. Tell us how you manage your cravings and otherwise unhealthy habits?”
That was a softball I could answer in my sleep and I had to remind myself to send a box of gourmet chocolate to Megan. Fans who were actually into living healthier often asked the question so I had no problems flashing my pretty boy smile and telling them how I occasionally indulge. “My weakness is Scotch and I do drink it sometimes, but never more than two. Well not never, but not always.” I gave my best shrug and explained how sometimes you had to give in. “But if you really don’t want to indulge, simply do your homework. Find out what goes in your food and learn the side effects.”
I felt good. The interview was going better than I could have hoped, especially after the tense shit show with Michelle fucking Trent. But to their credit, Brett and Megan waited until the end of the interview to ask the question. “So, Ethan, what’s the deal with you and Sam Stevens?”
I sighed as my thoughts swirled, wondering when in the hell did this woman become so popular? I had two options. I could go with the prepared statement given to me by my publisher or I could take Misha’s advice. “The deal is that some things should be private if we choose to keep it that way. But I didn’t know how to say that so I was a jerk to Samantha.” The nervous laugh was genuine but it also helped ease the tension as I raked my hands through my hair. “The question made me think about a woman I knew and loved a lot, a really long time ago. Her name was Katarina Shipova. We were in a relationship and we were in love but she was determined to be the next Cindy Crawford, Claudia Schiffer. She went to extremes to achieve her goal—thin and beautiful—until those extremes killed her.”
The audience was riveted, leaning on the edge of their seats with wide eyes and shocked expressions on their faces. Even Brett and Megan held the same surprised pose with the added frown of sympathy. Megan discreetly wiped a tear from her eye and I knew this interview was golden. “I can certainly understand why you wouldn’t want to talk about that,” Megan offered, adding a sniffle to highlight her own emotional response to my trauma. We cut to commercial and my shoulders went slack.
“Thank you both for having me. I always wondered if you two had this much fun for real or were faking it.” They both held their neutral expressions and I had to grin. “Looks like it’s the real thing. I hope you enjoy the Aegle goods I left for you.”
They thanked me and I left, walking towards the sexy blonde with a tumble of relaxed waves in her best southern belle dress, pale green with white polka dots. “Well, how’d I do?”
“I’m sure you know that you did pretty fantastic.” When a girl smiled at you the way Misha smiled up at me, a man knew he could do any damn thing.
I was over the hump and it was all thanks to the sexy hippie girl with the dangerous curves. I wrapped her in my arms, inhaling her sexy vanilla scent by burying my face in her hair. Misha’s scent was unforgettable, much like the woman. “Thank you.” I pulled back and the heat in her eyes was enough to have my cock standing up and taking notice.
“You’re welcome,” she patted my chest and pushed me back a little, motioning towards the curious cameras pointed our way. “Let’s go celebrate?”
“Hell. Yes.” I kept my voice low but averted my gaze, sending one final wave across the stage as they came back from commercial. “Let’s go.” I pulled Misha through the narrow halls until we were back in the limo and I couldn’t keep my hands off her. “Go out or stay in?” I knew what I wanted but if she wanted to go out then my plans would have to wait.
“How can I answer when you nibble my ear like that?”
I could hear the smile in her husky voice and moved my lips lower, kissing down her neck and scraping my lips back up. “Is this helping?”
“Not at all so let’s stay in. You can cook for me, something sexy.”
I chuckled. “Cook something sexy? Like warm caramel or like oysters?” I held her earlobe between my teeth and nibbled, smiling at the way her body shook beside mine.
“No like octopus and sardines or sangria and paella. You know, sexy.”
I definitely knew what she meant and pulled back so I could grab my phone and send my assistant a list of things I’d need for dinner. “Your wish is my command.”
“Yeah?” Green, lust lidded eyes raked over me and I felt my chest swell with masculine pride. “Good to know.”
“We don’t have to leave Nashville until Monday morning and aside from your dinner request, the house is fully stocked.”
“Why do you have a house in Nashville?”
“We have a plant here that takes care of our labels, all made from recycled products.” Though I rarely stayed the night here, I was suddenly very happy to have the privacy of a house. She opened her mouth to ask another question and I pressed my mouth to hers. “No more questions, lady” I told her and spent the remainder of the car ride ravishing her mouth. I laid claim to it like a conquering fucking army because she tasted good, like some candy she’d eaten recently and her signature watermelon flavored lip balm. And sex. Every time my tongue swiped across hers, I wanted sex. My mind, my body screamed sex. And when her hand landed on my cock, I wanted her sex.
Right. Fucking. Now.
***
“That was amazing.” Misha wore a satisfied, slightly sluggish smile and settled onto the sofa, kicking her legs up for good measure. “I’ve never had home cooking quite that delicious.”
And fuck if watching her eat up every damn bite hadn’t been t
he most erotic sight ever. Clarified herbed butter clung to her plump lips, and she moaned as she licked the remnants from her fingers, so lost to everything except the pleasure of the food. I didn’t know food could be quite so erotic, but now I understood what men meant when they showed appreciation for a woman with an appetite. “Your reaction to my cooking is well worth the effort.”
She moaned again and flung her head over the arm of the black leather sofa. “I swear I’ll be having dreams about that meal for a while. “Where on earth did they find octopus?”
Maybe I wasn’t playing fair, but being a billionaire was good when you wanted exactly what you wanted and nothing else exactly when you wanted it. I wanted to have Misha again. Tonight. Watching her now, the disheveled lady, with her shoes kicked off, hair mussed and cheeks pink from the wine, I wanted her more than I had ever wanted a woman. Which was strange, even for me. Women were usually easy. Boring. Predictable. But Misha was none of those things and I was still interested.
Very damn interested.
“I have my ways. But since we stuffed ourselves on this Mediterranean feast, we have to finish it off properly.”
Honey blond eyebrows dipped in confusion as she studied me, searching for a clue. “There’s more food? Let me burn a few calories first, okay?”
I laughed, stroking her ankle in slow circles that darkened her gaze. “We’ll burn plenty, I promise. But what I meant was Ouzo.” I held up the bottle for her to see and produced two glasses from the same table.
“Oh I see,” she crossed her arms and failed miserably to hide her smile. “Now that I’m near catatonic from that delicious meal, you want to liquor me up so I’ll make a move on you.”
“Like you need liquor to make a move. You know I’ll say yes.” I wanted to pull her to me, right on my lap and kiss that pouty smile she wore. Kiss her so fast and dirty just to see her blush again.
“I know. And I know,” she said, but she almost sounded mad about it. Maybe wistful or resigned. “Let’s start with the Ouzo,” she grinned at me and rolled her eyes, “and see where we go.”
