by Regina Cole
“Why, Mr. York, I do believe you’re bossing me around.” She laughed, a high, musical sound that sent a bolt of lust straight down to his drawn-up balls.
He reached down to the jeans she’d left halfway zipped and dropped them to the floor. Kicking his boots aside, he removed both pants and boxers, yanking off his sweatshirt and standing there, in front of the crackling fireplace, naked and hard and ready for her.
“Do I look like I’m joking around?”
His low, lusty growl evidently excited her, because her hands immediately went to the buttons on her blouse and she began to loosen them.
He didn’t move, just waited. She stood as the shoulders of her blouse slipped down her arms, revealing her lacy black bra. Her slacks slid down her long, lean thighs, pooling at her ankles. She kicked them free, and suddenly she was standing there in nothing but Victoria’s not-so-secret best.
God, he loved her in lingerie. Those angels wished they were half as hot as his best friend.
“Is this enough?” She executed a long, slow turn, meant to tease, to tantalize, to drive him wild.
It was working. A single drop of precome slicked the head of his hot, heavy cock.
“Do you want to get fucked wearing that?” He reached down and fisted his erection, unable to ignore the growing ache in him at the way she teased him. “Because those pretty little panties won’t last very long.”
“I think I’m willing to take the risk.” She perched on the arm of the sofa, crossing her legs at the knee, giving him a glimpse of the see-through lace crotch of those whisper-thin panties.
He didn’t waste time with more words. He was too damn horny for that.
One, two, three strides later, and she was in his arms. He leaned her backward, his tongue invading her mouth just as hard, fast, and thorough as his aching erection wanted to. Her arms wound around his neck as she clung to him, her nails biting into his skin as she kissed him back.
The scent of her washed over him, clean, sweet perfume, and real, womanly musk. The scent of her desire. He’d wondered what she would smell like, all turned on like this, and even though it he’d only smelled it once before, he would never, ever forget it. It was incredible. A once-in-a-lifetime olfactory memory that would forever remind him of how incredible being with this woman was.
He wanted to smell it over and over again for the rest of their lives.
Her legs wound around his hips, and he straightened them both, picking her up and settling her bottom on the arm of the couch.
Breaking their kiss, she looked up at him.
“I want you,” she said seriously, no hint of that coquettish teasing in her face now. “I’m hurting, I want you so bad.”
“I won’t ever let you hurt,” he whispered, and took her mouth again.
Hands swept over skin, goose bumps rising in the wake of hungry, talented fingers. His cock was throbbing against the barely-covered heat of her core, his fingertips gripping the taut muscles of her ass, his hips shadow-pumping at her. It was good, so good, but not enough. Not near enough.
Her mouth left his and trailed down the side of his neck, nipping at his pulse point. He groaned aloud as his cock kicked against her, more precome trickling out. The need to rip those panties aside and get inside her body was growing exponentially, and he didn’t know how long he could hold out against it.
But then she took the choice from him, and he was so fucking glad of that.
Slipping off the arm of the couch, she pressed kisses in a line down the center of his pecs, down his tight and trembling abs, past the light dusting of hair on his bellybutton that thickened as it went south. When she knelt in front of him, her wide, hungry eyes staring up at him, he fisted his hands at his sides.
He was losing track of who was seducing who, and he couldn’t be happier about it.
Sweet, merciful God. She was really going to—
Her mouth closed around the head of his dick, and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep the orgasm from rocketing out of him.
Good lord. She was going to kill him, and he’d never thought dying could be so incredible.
* * *
Allison wasn’t innocent by any stretch of the imagination. She’d had her share of sexual encounters. And those had definitely included the occasional act of fellatio.
But damn, it had never—never—felt like this.
Nate’s cock was broad, smooth as silk, hot, and thick inside her mouth. Closing her eyes, she savored the sweet/salty tang of him.
The slit in his head had been glistening, wet, even before her lips closed around it, and that little opening was what she licked first, lollipopping his head in her mouth. Mmm. God, to think of the years she’d wasted, not knowing how incredible things could be between them?
The one time she’d tried to start something between them popped into her head, a memory that threatened to yank her out of the moment and into the fears of the past.
No. She wasn’t going there. Now was much too incredible to taint with the doubts of the past.
In an effort to drown out the worries that plagued her, she took him deep, the blunt head of his cock breaching her throat. Her gag reflex kicked in a little, a rippling spasm around his erection that wrenched a moan from him.
“God, Ally,” he said, and his large, broad hand fisted in her hair as his hips rolled. “That—damn.”
She forced him deep again, swallowing against him, and was rewarded with another groan that sounded like it had been wrenched directly from his aching cock.
She liked this. She could do this all day.
Rubbing her tongue up the thick vein on the underside of him, she slowly drew her mouth up, sucking hard as she did. Then down again, taking as much of him inside her mouth as she could. Her hand worked the lower half of his shaft as her mouth worked the top. Her cheeks hollowed when she withdrew, her throat working against his broad, flared head as she came closer.
“Ally, I can’t—I’m going to come if you keep that up.”
She smiled, though her mouth was full. The more she sucked him, the wetter her panties got. Her nipples were puckered inside the lacy cups of her bra, her whole body afire with the knowledge that she was sucking him off.
It was hot, and she didn’t care if he came. The thought of taking his come into her mouth turned her on even more. She wasn’t budging until he made her.
She set up a deep, hungry rhythm, sucking and withdrawing, her hand rubbing and gripping and twisting its way from root to lips and back again, slicked by his precome and her saliva. He thrust against her mouth, both hands in her hair, and she braced against the couch behind her for stability. Harder and faster she sucked, he thrust, and just when she thought he was about to come—
He pulled away, breathing hard, staring down at her.
“Get up.”
Wiping at her mouth, she obeyed, her body burning and hungry and anxious and oh, so ready to get fucked.
“Take off that bra and those panties.”
Bending down, she did as he said, the thrill of his commands making her hurry. This hungry Nate, this horny and ready and altogether irresistible Nate, she adored.
Once her lingerie had joined their clothes on the floor, she faced him. His hungry gaze raked up and down her body, making her long for his touch.
“Turn around and face the couch.”
She did, and then there he was, pushing her over the couch arm, her ass in the air as her hands braced against the seat cushions.
A cry wrenched from her as he spread the lips of her vulva and dived down with his mouth, licking, sucking at her, his tongue invading her body in a sweet, delicious possession. His thumb found her clit as he tongue-fucked her, and she cried out, draped over the arm of the couch, helpless to stop the onslaught.
As if she would.
Only a second later, his mouth was gone, and a hot, smooth prodding at her slick flesh began.
“I can’t wait. I need to be inside you.”
“No con
dom,” she said, gripping the cushion. “I’m on the pill, no diseases, and I want to feel all of you.”
It was a big step for her, but she didn’t—she couldn’t—let herself think about it too much. Being with Nate felt right, other than all the bullshit going on in her head, and for now her body ruled.
She’d figure out the rest of it later.
“I’m disease free too, but are you sure?”
She looked back over her shoulder. “You want to argue, or you want to fuck me?”
His answer came in the form of a slow, burning penetration that rippled through her like a lightning strike.
God, and she’d thought sex with him before was good?
The position she was in brought him deep and high inside her, her inner walls gripping him as the sweet invasion advanced and receded. He thrust against her, his hands gripping her ass, bringing her hard against him. Her fingers curled into the couch cushions as she pushed back, needing him deeper, needing that hard cock insider her to pump and thrust and carry her away on the tide of sensual sensation.
It was working.
Her blood rushed hard in her veins, her nipples dragging against the fabric of the couch cushions as his pistoning hips worked her. Harder and deeper, he thrust against her, and then he reached down to cup both her breasts, bringing her torso higher.
“Nate,” she begged, arching her back, the movement bringing his cock higher and deeper into the aching, hungry core of her, “please.”
One hand left her breast and smoothed down her belly to find her clit.
The passion gathering inside her, swirling and pulsing in her lower belly, burned hotter and hotter with each flick of his fingers against her sensitive clit, with each thrust of his hot, hungry cock inside her.
“Ally,” he growled, and kissed her neck, his teeth nipping lightly at her skin as his hands pressed hard and his cock went deep.
She cried out as the feelings coalesced, the orgasm crashing over her. He cupped her hard as he thrust again, a hot eruption from his cock filling her body, pulsing and jerking inside her.
The ripples of pleasure soaked her limbs, making her movements shaky as she rode out the orgasm against him. His arms trembled with the effort of holding them both upright, and he let her down slowly, her hips still cradled over the arm of the couch.
With the rough fabric against her cheek, and her body still burning with remembered pleasure, Allison stared into the low flames of the fire in the hearth.
God. She’d never expected this.
Closing her eyes against the worries and thoughts that her rational brain tried to stir within her, she smiled.
It didn’t matter, for now. All that mattered was the cowboy firefighter that was lifting her into his arms and settling her on the couch beside him, his strong hands rubbing up and down her back as he kissed her tenderly.
Finding out what it all meant could wait. Enjoying the moment could not.
13
Two weeks later, December 19th
Nate probably looked really out of place in the ultramodern, chrome and glass surroundings of the sleek investment firm’s front office.
He was wearing his scuffed work boots, faded jeans, his favorite Firehouse Three long-sleeved tee, and a leather jacket that he’d bought back in college. His favorite cowboy hat completed the ensemble, and the receptionist looked like she was about ready to call someone to help escort him out, in case he’d tracked horse shit in on the tile.
“I need to see Burt Young,” Nate said, leaning his elbows on the high counter she sat behind, “ma’am.”
“Erm, is he expecting you?” Her tone was haughty as she looked down her nose at him.
“Yep. I’ve got a nine-thirty appointment.”
It had taken for-fucking-ever to get in touch with the bastard. Not wanting to get the cops called on him, Nate hadn’t shown up at the house Burt and Allison used to share before their divorce. And then the guy had gone out of town for a week. But eventually, he’d answered Nate’s call, and had agreed to have a discussion at his office.
About damn time. Allison was nearly frantic over the lost accounts. The only thing that seemed to distract her was sex. Nate had been incredibly willing to help her with the endeavor, but being her fuck buddy wasn't a long-term solution to their confused relationship.
It was a step in the right direction, for sure. Addiction to his touch might make the rest of it easier. But eventually, they’d have to figure out what they were to one another. And step one in that process was helping her to figure out what was going on in her business. Allison was doing what she could on her end—interviewing Barry, her biggest competitor, had been step one. The cagey old bastard hadn’t been much help, but Allison had come out of the conversation confident that Barry wasn’t behind the poached clients.
Their other best lead was behind those frosted glass doors, and this sour-faced secretary was the only thing standing between Nate and his future.
“Name?”
“Nathaniel York.”
The tippity-type of her irritated fingers was loud, and Nate took the time to pin a sweet-as-tea smile on his face. The receptionist didn’t crack a smile, just sighed in a beleaguered way.
“He’s expecting you. One moment.” She picked up the office phone. “Mr. Young? Your nine-thirty is here.” She raked him with a disgusted glance again as the handset descended. “You can go through.”
“Thank you, ma’am,” Nate said with a big smile and a hat tip. She sniffed as he walked past her desk to the glass doors.
Pushing through, he looked around.
It was a nice place, in one of the biggest high-rises downtown. Plush white carpeting beneath a big glass desk set in front of huge windows, the downtown skyline laid out like a big photograph behind. And seated at that desk was Burt Young, looking a lot more sober and sheepish than he had last time Nate had seen him.
“Burt,” Nate said with a polite nod as he rounded the set of chairs in front of the desk.
“Nathaniel,” Burt replied, rising and reaching for Nate’s hand. A quick shake, and they both sat down in their chairs opposite one another.
Silence fell, awkwardly stretching out between them. Nate didn’t bother to break it at first—he wanted Burt to wonder, to worry, to remember what had happened last time he was a dick to Allison. Get him a little off-balance so he could really discover if Burt was behind Allison’s recent spate of business problems.
“What can I help you with?” Burt, apparently not able to stand the silence, was unbuttoning his suit jacket as he watched Nate. His movements were jerky—nervous.
Guilt? Could be.
Nate sat forward, leaning his elbows on his knees as he speared Burt with a look. No need to beat around the fucking bush.
“It was you, wasn’t it?”
Burt blinked. “Was what me?”
Nate gritted his teeth and took a deep breath before going on. “Don’t play stupid. Ed Oliver. Carol Evans. Was it you who got to both of them?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I mean, Edward Oliver and I are friends, and Carol—”
Nate’s fist came down on the glass desktop, and Burt jumped. “Did you convince them to leave Kurtz and Company? Tell me the fucking truth, or I swear—”
Burt’s face was full of genuine shock. “Allison lost their accounts? Both of them?” He shoved to his feet, running his hand through his shaggy hair in an agitated way. “That’s—I mean, that’s unbelievable. Edward Oliver was so excited about getting her to start up his MS charity. I played golf with him just before Thanksgiving, and it was all he could talk about. And the cancer foundation?”
When Burt swung his gaze toward Nate, a sad look in his eyes. “Is Allison okay?”
Nate gritted his teeth, not answering.
Shit. The guy didn’t look like he was lying. But he needed more proof, just to make sure that they weren’t getting played. Their best lead had just gotten mostly busted. He decided to level with the fucke
r.
“She’s pissed as hell. And I just have to make sure. Did you have anything to do with them pulling out?”
Burt shook his head. “No. I was pissed that Allison cut me out of the business, but it was my own fault. I screwed up our marriage. And that night— That night at the gala, I was drunk and not thinking clearly.” He rubbed his jaw as if remembering Nate's fist. “That won’t ever happen again.”
“You damn skippy it won’t,” Nate growled, standing. He was at least four inches taller than Burt, and he used the extra height to his advantage as he rounded the desk to stand boot-to-loafer with Burt. “If I find out that any part of what you told me today is a lie—”
“I know, I know, you’ll walk a mud hole in my ass and walk it dry.”
Nate smiled, but it was more like a baring of teeth than anything polite. “No. I won’t walk. I’ll stomp. And I won’t stop until you’re not moving.”
Burt paled. “I don’t think the threats are necessary.”
“Do you remember how you tried to hit her that night? Because I do. And she’s worth every bit of jail time they’d give me,” Nate said, stepping off slightly. “Just remember that.”
He turned to walk away, but Burt’s voice stopped him.
“You love her, don’t you?”
Nate closed his eyes, still facing the exit. Was he that obvious?
“I’d always thought so. You were always so close. I was jealous of that. She never could relate to me the same way she did you.” Burt laughed a little, a sad note in his voice. “I’m not sure if Allison’s capable of loving you back. She’s too focused on her work.”
Nate turned and shot Burt a look. “My relationship with Allison is none of your business.”
“I’ll keep my ear to the ground. Let you know if I hear anything about Allison’s lost accounts.”
His spine pricked in warning. “Why would you do that?” Nate asked.
Burt shrugged. “I hurt her. It’s the least I can do to try to make up for that, at least a little.”
