by Brit Ryder
Table of Contents
Synopsis
By the Author
Acknowledgments
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
About the Author
Books Available From Bold Strokes Books
Shameless
Fire Investigator Emery Pearson doesn’t have time for a relationship. Her career is everything, so the rest of her life is put on hold until she reaches her professional goals. Sex is always on the table, though. Finding the perfect woman who only wants a quick hookup seems like a fantasy, but when she meets Lily online, the fantasy turns to reality when they agree to meet. Their tête-à-tête at the museum is more than Emery could imagine—satisfying, exciting, and passionate. Can Emery walk away from sex this good with no strings attached? Or will the lure of lust keep her going back for more?
Shameless
Brought to you by
eBooks from Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
http://www.boldstrokesbooks.com
eBooks are not transferable. They cannot be sold, shared or given away as it is an infringement on the copyright of this work.
Please respect the rights of the author and do not file share.
Shameless
© 2017 By Brit Ryder. All Rights Reserved.
ISBN 13: 978-1-63555-006-1
This Electronic Book is published by
Bold Strokes Books, Inc.
P.O. Box 249
Valley Falls, New York 12185
First Edition: June 2017
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
This book, or parts thereof, may not be reproduced in any form without permission.
Credits
Editor: Ashley Tillman
Production Design: Bold Strokes Graphics
Cover Concept Created by Deb B.
Cover Design By Sheri ([email protected])
By the Author
Shameless
Writing as Kris Bryant:
Jolt
Whirlwind Romance
Just Say Yes: The Proposal
Taste
Forget Me Not
Acknowledgments
First of all, I had so much fun writing this novella for so many reasons. These characters are not like any I’ve written before so the challenge was to get into their heads and create something fresh and exciting. I have to thank Bold Strokes Books for humoring me and accepting my story. A shout out to Ashley for keeping it real, and my undying gratitude to the people I interviewed to get this novella done. Research is sometimes the best part of writing and, damn, this sure was fun!
Chapter One
I told her I don’t smoke. The tip of my cigarette glows as I inhale. I watch the wispy smoke, a snarling dragon, float up and disappear into the night. I indulge from time to time when I’m nervous or stressed. Tonight I’m both. This one cigarette is warranted—I justify—even though I already know I will smoke another. I tell people I don’t smoke because of my job and I know the dangers of fire. The truth is that I don’t smoke every day because I don’t like wrinkles. I’m thirty-five years old and I look like I’m in my twenties. I’d like to look ten years younger than I am for the rest of my life.
Tomorrow afternoon, I’m meeting her for the first time. Not the best decision I’ve ever made, but her schedule is demanding, as is mine, and tomorrow is the only day in the near future that either of us can get away. I have a meeting first thing in the morning with my boss to review the case I’m testifying for this week, as well as discuss my findings about the city’s latest warehouse fire. After lunch, I have a walk-through in a building with new inspectors. I somehow think I can get everything done in time to meet her at the Caldwell Museum by four thirty.
I met Lily online about two weeks ago. I saw her profile on a dating site, one that isn’t for finding a long term relationship, but more of a no-strings-attached hook up. I’ve tried my hand at a girlfriend. We dated for a year. She was beautiful, smart, sweet, and doted on me. She was perfect, but for someone else. I can’t afford the time. Nobody wants to date somebody who can be called away at the flick of a careless cigarette. My girlfriend wanted me home every night by six for dinner and no working on weekends. I slept most of the day and worked a lot of nights. She’s with an acquaintance from my old softball league. She deserves happiness.
I deserve somebody who wants nothing from me but sex. I haven’t gotten laid in almost two months, but that’s my fault. I tend to burn bridges after I’ve fucked somebody because I never call them. I’m starting to get a reputation in the lesbian community and that’s not a good thing, so I decided to go off grid and online. One woman caught my eye. Lily. No last name, none required. Long brown hair, tight body, late twenties or early thirties from what I can tell. She doesn’t want a relationship either. She’s a lawyer and works seventy hours a week. I hit her up on a whim and she surprised me by flirting back. Not too many people are chatting on dating sites at two in the morning. We were and the last two weeks have been a mixture of playful banter and intense sexual innuendos. Last weekend we crossed a line because I gave her my phone number, something I never do. We had incredible phone sex. She likes my raspy voice. I like her submissive attitude. She wants to please me. I want to let her. We decided to meet tomorrow afternoon at the museum downtown. Not too many people are going to be there during the afternoon and I plan to fuck her somewhere between Monet and Seurat. I almost fell to my knees when she asked me to wear a strap-on. I ran out the very next day and picked up a new harness and a dildo. I asked her what she would be comfortable with and she told me she would leave it up to me. I was there the minute the store opened. I have cocks at home, but I wanted a new one for Lily. Maybe because this online thing is new to me, or because she’s the first girl to give it to me straight. She wants me to fuck her, nothing else, and maybe only one time. I was tempted to put it on and send her a pic, but we decided to keep it casual, no pictures, no texts. Now that I think about it, she only called me that one time. I’ve touched myself almost every night before bed thinking about her. Her online pics aren’t the clearest. One picture is her with three friends in Mexico taken from a distance, another is her wearing only a red bikini and dark sunglasses that cover her entire face. The third photo is a fuzzy, profile shot of her in a courtroom that somebody snapped. Probably an intern or her associate at the law firm. I’m not confident on the features on her face so I can’t picture her lips or her eyes when I masturbate. I use the bikini pic instead. My online photo is a headshot that my best friend took. I look relaxed, yet confident. My dark hair is perfectly messed up, the hair product keeping it in place. My gray eyes are actually twinkling. I love my picture. I put it on hoping that others would, too. As soon as Lily responded to me, I stopped talking to the other women on the site.
I light the second cigarette and take a swig of my beer. The mosquitoes will be here soon, but I’m damn sure going to finish my smoke and my beer before I head inside. My phone lights up with a text message.
I’m so ready for you to fuck me tomorrow.
My stomach jumps and gets stuck in my throat. I take another drink of beer and put the bottle on the table, my hands shaking with a mixture of fear and excitement. This is the first time she’s texted me. I take a deep drag on cigarette number two before I answer her.
I’ve been thinking about pounding your pussy with my cock for days now. I don’t think that’s too harsh. She doesn’t respond for a minute and for a moment I think I’ve scared her off,
but I see her typing and wait for her message back.
I want you deep inside of me. I want you to make me scream. I shiver. I have no idea how on earth we are going to have sex at the museum, but I will make it happen.
I am going to be inside of you so deep and so fast. I envision her up against the wall, clutching me, her legs wrapped around my waist. I’m almost six feet tall and have been working out every week since I turned fifteen. Holding her up won’t be a problem. Staying on my feet is going to be the trick. I already know I just want to sink into her, top her, yet give her anything she wants at the same time. She doesn’t want me to compromise though. She wants me to be one hundred percent in control of her.
I came hard last night just thinking about you. I pictured your full lips on me, your fingers deep inside of me, getting me ready for you. Okay, that does it. I gently snuff out the tip of my cigarette, saving it for later. No sense in wasting it. I reach into my shorts and start touching myself. I was wet after her first message. Now I’m swollen and need release.
Tell me everything you want me to do to you. It’s hard to type with one hand.
I want you to surprise me.
I think about all of the things I want to do to her and quickly slide my shorts and my boxers down past my knees. The only light on my back deck is from my cell phone. My neighbors won’t be able to see what I’m doing. I lean my head back to look up at the stars. I rarely dip my finger inside of me, but tonight I do. I’m tight, but I slip inside, gather up wetness on my finger, and rub it over my clit. I jerk immediately and hiss. I will not last. Since my only reference of her body is in the bikini, I picture her wearing it.
I want to bend you over a statue in the middle of the Renaissance room, my hands holding your hips, my cock buried deep inside of you.
She’s quick to respond. I can’t wait for you to take control. It’s all I can think about.
Just the thought of somebody wanting me to take complete control of them speeds up my motions. My phone dings again.
I want you to bend me over and hold my hands behind my back while you fuck me.
Anything you want.
I lean back and concentrate on all the things I want to do to her and everything she wants me to do. I’ve never been with anybody who wanted me to dominate them as much as Lily has hinted. My past is sprinkled with women who pretended to want me to take control, but when we got down to it, it was all about them trying to break me. Lily seems like the real thing. My orgasm hits right as her next text arrives. I take a few deep breaths until my body stops shuddering. I relight my cigarette, then lean forward to read her message.
I wish it was tonight. My jaw drops at the idea that I could be fucking her right now. I’m breathing so hard that my cigarette falls out of my mouth, hits the edge of the table, and bounces until it lands by my foot. This is how fires start. Probably not from intense orgasms, but from carelessness. The butt lands in a small puddle of water from the afternoon rain. I regretfully crush it out with my shoe, hating that it wasn’t on my terms. I quickly text back.
It was tonight, in my head. The orgasm I just had is proof.
She’s quick with her response. Ahh, I missed it! You should have called me. Then we both could have come.
Are you at work or home? I look at the time. It’s just after nine. She could be at either place. I could make you come wherever you are. I shake my head at my cockiness. I’m going to have to bring that confidence with me to the museum tomorrow.
I’m almost home. Give me ten minutes, then call me. I smile because she’s very demanding. She doesn’t realize yet that I’m the one in charge. I finish my beer and head inside. The days are only now starting to feel sticky. We still have two months of summer to go until we get some relief.
I slip into clean boxers and a tank top. I check my phone. It’s been fourteen minutes. I still have time. I brush my teeth and lock up my place, readying myself for bed. Nineteen minutes. That’s good. I crawl under my covers and call her. She waits four rings before she answers.
“That was longer than ten minutes,” she says. Her greeting makes me smile. I hear the slow, seductive huskiness of her voice and I know she’s turned on.
“I wanted you to have enough time to relax.”
“Where were we?”
“You were upset that we didn’t come together,” I say.
“Oh, that’s right. I was scolding you for not waiting for me.” Her voice gets lower and softer. I hear her rustling around.
“Are you getting undressed?”
“Oh, I’m already naked. I’ve decided to bring a toy to this conversation,” she says. That makes me shiver. I close my eyes and picture her on her bed, legs spread because she’s not shy, and a vibrator nestled at the apex of her thighs.
“Tell me about this toy.” I want to hear her voice change while she is pleasing herself.
“It’s purple, vibrates at just the right speed, and is my go to when I want to come fast. And tonight I want to come fast.”
“The difference between me and that vibrator is that tomorrow, you don’t have to do anything but stand there and let me fuck you. Yes, stand. I’m going to bend you over something, anything, and take you from behind. That’s what you want, right?” I hear her breath hitch and I know she’s visualizing it. Her barely audible moans encourage me, only because I want them to be louder and I want her to scream my name when she comes. “I’m right behind you, my cock buried deep inside of you. I’m going to roll my hips and press into you until you beg me to make you come. My fingers will massage your clit at the same time. When you are so close, I’m going to stop and build you up again. Then I’ll stop and do it again and again. You’ll have to beg for it.” Her moans are louder now punctuated by gasps as the tremors of her orgasm build. “Is that what you want?”
“Yes, please.” She’s so polite when she wants my cock.
“Tell me. Tell me what you want tomorrow,” I say.
“I want you inside of me. I don’t care who sees us. Let them watch. I want it hard and fast. As fast as you…” She trails off so I know it’s about to happen.
“Say my name, Lily. Say it when you come.” My voice gets raspier when I demand things.
“Emery. Oh, God. Emery!” She yells, then whimpers my name defeatedly.
I smile. “Tomorrow.” I hang up the phone. I’m starting to like this girl.
Chapter Two
I dreamt of Impressionists and women in bikinis last night. This date with Lily has been on my mind since she emailed me that we should meet. I rarely recall my dreams. I might remember vivid colors and maybe a place or two. Faces are always a blur and my actions are never understandable. Dreams that do make it to my conscious mind, I brush off. I can’t shake this dream and truthfully, I don’t know that I want to. I stumble out of bed and into the kitchen. My mouth tastes like an ashtray. I pour myself a cup of coffee, hoping the black bitterness will wash away the thick, acrid residue from last night’s cigarettes and beer. I open up my refrigerator, praying for a breakfast miracle. More beer, a salami roll, expired yogurt, and two sad looking avocados that are flat on one side from their extended stay in my crisper. I sigh. Breakfast, the most important meal of the day, especially today, and I can’t find anything. My meeting with my boss isn’t for another hour and a half, but by the time I get ready and fight traffic, I will barely make it into the office on time. I take my coffee into the bathroom and sip on it while I get ready. I haven’t shaved my legs in days, but in case my day runs late and I don’t have the time later, I decide to knock it out now.
I haven’t been this excited to be with another person in a very long time. Sure, I’m guilty of the random bar fucks where tipsy girls whisper in my ear that they want me. Sometimes we make it to the seedy bathroom, sometimes a dark corner will do. I never pack when I go to a bar. That’s for special occasions only. Like today. I smooth down the front of my dark blue uniform pants knowing I could never get away with packing while wearing these. Last night I a
t least thought to plan ahead and iron my loose fitting khakis and white linen shirt for my museum date. I think everything will be properly hidden and only somebody who’s looking for it will see the outline of my silicone cock. Lily already told me it’s going to be hard for her to meet my gaze because her eyes will be focused on my crotch the entire time. Her text made me shiver.
I grab my keys, my wallet, and my cell phone. I eye the pack of cigarettes I threw on the kitchen table last night. Today is another stressful day. Maybe just one on my way into work won’t hurt. I still feel like I got screwed last night.
*
Every minute feels like ten. I’m sitting in my boss’s office, listening to him ask the same questions he asks me every time we wrap up a case. I’ve done this long enough to know exactly how the reports are to be written and filed. I know he’s really worried about tomorrow’s court date. Our testimonies usually have dire consequences for the schmucks who purposely start fires. Most of the time, we work with the cops and find the offenders, but sometimes, they get away and our reports are filed and forgotten. The case I’m testifying on tomorrow is intense. I get nervous when more than a single person is involved because my imagination runs wild and I think their partner is going to come after me. This hasn’t happened before, but it doesn’t make me any less wary. I will testify how the fire was purposely started. The target was a warehouse full of dated bank information yet to be scanned. The police will have to bring the evidence on the individuals they have in custody; my job is strictly to report the facts. I will be at the courthouse first thing in the morning, wait to be called to the stand, give my testimony, then head back to the office. I’ll find out what happens to the people I testify against from the news. It’s not that I don’t care, it’s just that I have too much going on to care. There is a difference.
