No Pants Required

by Kim Karr

  “You’re wicked,” he says. “I can keep you up here until Monday, then we both have to go to work. But I want you up here, naked and waiting, when I get home.”

  “With your slippers and martini?” I joke.

  “Preferably wet and ready for me.”

  “You are such a perv,” I tell him, dragging my tongue down his neck, his chest, and then getting serious when I take him in my hands and gently stroke him.

  That groan of his gets loud. Really loud. I worry he might alert the whole neighborhood that we are in here having sex.

  Screw it! Who cares?

  Hovering over him, I place a knee on either side of his legs and glide my lips down his stomach. My hands continue to move up and down his length and when my lips meet his tip, he shudders. I lose myself in the moment. This is the intimacy that I’ve missed. But when my mouth covers him, he pulls me up.

  Crashing down onto his hard chest, I press my naked body into his and peek up at him. “Why’d you stop me?”

  He lets out a sigh and another loud groan. “I want to be inside you when I come.”

  I move my mouth to his ear so I can whisper, “You can be.”

  “I will be,” he growls, and then molds my breasts with his palms before moving my hips.

  Elation sweeps through me as he easily slips in. His hands move to my backside, pressing me into him. When I fold my knees beneath myself and sit up, he lets out a long, tortured groan.

  Control freak in bed that he is, when I try to control the pace by interlocking my fingers with his on either side of his head, he just grins and shakes his head.

  That’s okay. I just rock into him over and over, rolling my hips. Before long, his hands are on me. But you see, I got this.

  Leaning back, I rest my palms on his knees and move slowly, rising just far enough so we both feel the thrill of him sliding back inside. With every passing moment, I sink faster and deeper but stay close. My pulse pounds with excitement. Before I know it, he’s clutching my legs, focusing on my every move. Our eyes meet, and we are hypnotized by each other’s expressions of pure pleasure. When I reach between us and alternate stroking and squeezing whatever flesh I can get my hands on, he groans and curses so loud I lose myself.

  Continuing with this rapid pace, I feel nothing but complete bliss. The pressure builds swiftly and I am quickly on the brink of climaxing again. It’s heavenly.

  Unexpectedly, he pulls me to his chest and seals his lips to mine, thrusting his hips up. Breathing heavily, I know he’s close. He rolls us over, never breaking our connection. Pulling my hands over my head, he takes control and it’s perfect.

  I watch as his body flexes rhythmically with mine. He moves faster, kissing me furiously. I’m pushed over the edge the second his tongue hits the roof of my mouth. “Oh God yes, Cam, yes!” I scream once again and he stills, shouting my name as my waves of ecstasy bring on his climax.

  When we are both spent, we fall into each other’s arms and cuddle close together. “I love you, Cam,” I say.

  “I love you, Makayla. I love every single thing about you.”

  I can’t contain my smile. “I missed you,” I whisper.

  He smiles at me and palms my behind. “I missed you too, and this hot little body of yours.”

  Feeling extremely thirsty, I reach for the open water bottle on my nightstand from last night. I can’t believe I forgot to bring it down with me this morning. Oh well, turns out to be a win for me. As I rise on his hard muscles, I catch sight of our novel next to it. “Book club?” I ask, grabbing the water bottle.

  Cam glances at the nightstand and grabs Summer’s Ménage before I can. “Yes. We have to finish this. I’m dying to see how it ends.”

  “Me, too,” I tell him, flopping onto the pillow beside him.

  Cam eyes me. “Did you read it without me?”

  “No, I swear.”

  He’s still looking at me.

  “I didn’t.”

  “I’m going to choose to believe you because good girls don’t lie,” he tells me, and opens the book.

  Not sure about me being a good girl anymore, but I’ll go with it.

  Getting cozy, I snuggle beside him. I really have missed the sound of his voice, so much caramel oozing down a hot fudge sundae.

  The window is open and there’s a cool breeze coming inside. Cam pulls the sheets over us and holds the book up. “‘It was the last day of summer, and Summer took a moment to look at the sprawling property that stood on the South Shore of Long Island. She took a cautious sip of her wine and tried not to think about going back to the city. To her life of social obligations. To her husband.’”

  My eyes snap to the page. Did he read that right?

  Cam choked out the last word. “She’s married?”

  “There must be a reason she goes to the Hamptons alone, though?”

  “Yeah, obviously her husband doesn’t meet her needs. Must be a workaholic.”

  I bump his shoulder. “You don’t know that. Keep reading.”

  “‘The off-the-shoulder cocktail dress drew attention to her breasts, and she knew it. Tonight she would say goodbye to both her lovers. Gabe, the sinful bad boy with the “I don’t give a fuck” attitude that drove her wild, and her sweet Owen, the one who made sure her every desire was met. Taking two lovers was something to think about for next summer. Would she do it again? She’d decide when the night was over.’” Cam pauses and looks over at me. “Told you she likes Gabe better.”

  I nip at his shoulder. “You do not know that. Nowhere on the page does it say that.”

  “Let’s see who she says goodbye to first.”

  “Let’s,” I say.

  Shifting on the bed, he starts to read again. “‘Both Gabe and Owen were waiting for her in the dining room, in the tuxedos and cuff links that she had purchased for them. She nearly lost her breath. Earlier they’d dined on lobster and drank the finest wine. She’d admired their good looks then, but now, tipsy on wine and fueled by desire, they looked edible. Which was good, because tonight they would fuck on the dining room table. Why? Because they could.’”

  Cam pauses and looks at me. “Would you let me fuck you on the dining room table?”

  I laugh. “Sure, if we had one.”

  He raises a curious brow. “And you’d eat on it after?”

  I rise on one elbow. “Let me think about that. I’ll get back to you later.”

  He laughs. “You do that.”

  “Just read.”

  “Okay. Okay,” he laughs. “‘Summer circled her men like they were prey. Looked at them. Appraised them. Waited for one to break. Tonight, neither did. Good boys deserved to be rewarded, and that’s what she did. She pushed each back against the table and one at a time unzipped their pants. They were fully erect, but she knew they would be. Her breasts showcased like they were as she moved around them guaranteed that. She ordered them to sit on the table and then bowed her head over Owen’s lap. With her mouth around Owen’s cock, her hand found Gabe’s and she stroked him.’”

  Cam coughs a little. “That’s a lot of dick.”

  “Oh, God, Cam, stop with commentary—I need to know how this ends.”

  Cam stretches out on the bed fully and puts an arm behind his head. “‘Summer didn’t hold back as she brought Owen to orgasm, and then Gabe. Now, it was her turn. She stripped out of her fancy dress and lay naked in the center of the table. Gabe and Owen circled her. She was theirs for the taking, to do with what they wanted. She wouldn’t tell them what to do. Not tonight. It was her departing gift to them. No rules. All summer she had never allowed them both to fuck her pussy in the same night. They had to take turns. Tonight they would both get to penetrate her pussy. Summer was surprised when Owen hovered over her first. She had thought Gabe would take the lead. She was happy Owen did. He had grown this summer. Become more confident. He fucked her, soft and sweet as he was. She came in a state of calm oblivion, and she wanted to remember it. It would have to last her until nex
t summer. Gabe didn’t give her much time to recover as he mounted her minutes after Owen came. He was wild and rougher, normally, but tonight he was just intense. He had learned patience. He thrust into her, hard and fast, and she wanted to come so much her muscles leaped. Unlike Owen, he drew it out. If she were in charge, she’d have ordered him to fuck her faster and make her come. Still, she came soon enough and pleasure rocketed through her.’”

  “Wow,” I comment, fanning myself.

  “Yeah, wow,” Cam repeats.

  Desire fills my room as sure as the words from the page do.

  Sighing, he turns the page. “Last chapter.”

  “Already?”

  He nods and gives me a little squeeze. “‘The summer was over. It had flown by. Summer never allowed the men to kiss her, and tonight was no different. The only rule she kept in place. There would be no goodbye kisses. She stood at the door as the car drove up to take the men back to town, where she’d found them months ago. As they walked away, they talked to each other and Summer could hear them. They talked about going for a drink, which made the corners of her mouth tilt up. And then the men talked about next summer, about looking for a woman to share, which made Summer wistful. But they knew she wouldn’t be with them again; she’d made that clear. It would be too messy. Once Summer closed the door, she leaned against it and smiled. It was time to see her husband. She missed him. Bedridden and paralyzed from a skiing accident that took place ten years ago, he was still the love of her life. Unable to do anything that someone didn’t do for him, he was dependent on a team of people. Every summer his mother came to stay with him, and Summer spent that time at their summer home. Taking a summer lover had been his idea. Two as well. He’d even suggested three—one for each month. For variety. He hated that he couldn’t satisfy her. Yet, he did just by suggesting this. Next summer, she’d take two lovers again, but perhaps not at once. She liked having the good with the bad. They were traits her husband had once exhibited, and although he didn’t see it, still did. In fact, maybe she’d take three for added variety as he suggested. Summer wasn’t certain about that. She’d have to think about it. Then again, she had a whole year to decide. Didn’t she?’”

  I bolt up with tears in my eyes. “I so didn’t expect that.”

  Cam reaches over me and sets the book on the nightstand. “Yeah, that was . . . I don’t know. Different than I expected.”

  “Good different?”

  “Yeah, good different.”

  Emotion in my throat, I say, “I liked it.”

  Cam kisses me. “I’m not so sure I could be as unselfish as Summer’s husband.”

  I look into his eyes. “I think he loves her and wants her to have what he can’t give her. He knows she loves him. I think he’s more secure than unselfish.”

  Cam kisses me again. “You know, I think you might be right.”

  “What?” I gasp in mock surprise.

  His lips slide down my throat, and the vibration of his laughter feels so good. “Yes, I said it. You heard me. Now, moving on . . .” He kisses the tip of my breast. “Do you think Summer’s Ménage Two is out yet?”

  My head falls back. “I’m not sure, but I’ll look tomorrow.”

  “Sounds good,” he murmurs, licking around my nipple.

  “I like that,” I whisper. “Do it again, a little lower.”

  As if practicing being obedient, he obliges. Then he moves lower, and lower still, making me squirm in the most delicious way. And he doesn’t stop there.

  Later, when we finish for the second time, he takes me in his arms and holds me tight. Cuddled up against the heat of his body, I can’t stop thinking about Summer and how completely she and her husband loved each other.

  Realization dawns. I think I was wrong before. You don’t love someone and set him free to see if he comes back to you.

  You hold on tight and never let go.

  And that’s just what I intend to do.

  CAM

  TWO MONTHS LATER

  “HAPPY ANNIVERSARY TO YOU.

  Happy Anniversary to you.

  Happy Anniversary, Camden Waters.

  Happy Anniversary to you.”

  I look at Brooklyn over the top of my dark shades. “That’s how you sing the birthday song, dumbass.”

  He unloads the box from his shoulder onto the floor. “Fuck you, fucker,” he says and adds the two-handed one-finger salute. “It’s close enough.”

  The laughter rolls out of me. “You really should stay for Thanksgiving.”

  He shrugs. “Nah, I have some things to do.”

  “Well, if you change your mind, come over tomorrow.”

  His nod tells me he has no intention of changing his mind. It’s the open road, his video camera, and that manuscript he’s been working on for him.

  It’s scary how well I know him.

  Hard to believe one year ago, I moved to this beach town with nothing but a duffle bag and a bad attitude. I knew one person, Brooklyn James, my best friend’s younger brother—well, half-brother. Lucky for me he’d recently rented a house on the beach and invited me to move in with him. And even luckier for me, I did. The fucker went out of his way to help me out. He hooked me up with a job, showed me the lay of the land, and introduced me to Maggie. And as they say in the movies . . . the rest is history.

  But let’s not give him too much credit or it will go to his head, and it’s already big enough because of his movie-star good looks.

  “Is that it?” I ask, glancing around the bedroom that used to be Makayla’s, but is now Brooklyn’s.

  “That’s it,” he says, plopping on his bed and unrolling his pack of cigs. “Operation musical houses is complete.”

  Walking past him to the door, I slap a hand on his shoulder. “Seriously, bro. Thanks for doing this.”

  Pounding a cigarette out, he sticks it into his mouth and then slants a glance at me. “Oh, dude, you are so going to owe me for this.”

  I stop at the door and turn around. “Anything, anyplace—you name it.”

  He points that cigarette my way and gives me one of his famous Brooklyn smiles. You know, the kind that can light up a Christmas tree, or so the girls say. “I’m going to remember you said that.”

  “My word, man.” I thump my heart with my first.

  In return, I get one of those California slow, you better believe I’ll take you up on it nods.

  I’m so fucked.

  Downstairs, Maggie is busy in the kitchen . . . with her new boyfriend. Abraham, I think, or maybe it’s Abel. Not sure. Some biblical name, anyway.

  I clear my throat. “How’s that pumpkin pie coming for tomorrow?” I ask in amusement. It must have a little bit of tongue and a dash of saliva, because they are making out hot and heavy, tongues and all.

  Fuck, Brooklyn is screwed.

  Maggie breaks away from her guy. “I’m about to start it. Don’t worry, I’ll have it ready by tomorrow and be over with bells on to help with Thanksgiving dinner.”

  I stride past the happy couple. “I hope so, because it’s not your bells I’m worried about.” I look down. “It’s mine,” I joke.

  “Right,” she laughs. “Can you please do something to make Makayla less nervous about meeting your mother and sister tomorrow? Please. I don’t care what.”

  I twist my head around. “I have just the thing in mind.”

  “Go get her, tiger,” Maggie roars, showing me her claws.

  I shake my head.

  She’s too much.

  I wish it were that easy, though. She’s nervous because I’m nervous. My sister agreed to come even with my mother and new husband coming only because they weren’t staying with me. What she doesn’t know is they’re staying at Maggie’s, in Maggie’s room, and Maggie is staying with her boyfriend.

  So that’s why Makayla is a nervous wreck. She wants everyone to get along.

  Shit, I’m not sure that’s possible.

  But I have hope.

  Walking up the path
and around to the house that Makayla and I are now officially sharing, I look into the kitchen to see her standing at the sink. Hair down. Tousled. A little messy. Wearing a tight tank top. Looking sexy as hell.

  And right here, with my foot on the step, the feeling strikes.

  A sense of home.

  It’s been a long road and a lot has happened, but yes, I’m finally home.

  And it feels fanfuckingtastic.

  NEW YORK TIMES BESTSELLING AUTHOR

  TURN IT UP

  SET THE PACE

  BLOW

  CRUSH

  TOXIC

  THE 27 CLUB

  FRAYED

  BLURRED

  MENDED

  DAZED

  TORN

  CONNECTED

  And watch for

  New novels with fun titles coming soon!

  Reader * Writer * Coffee-lover * Romantic

  Kim is a daydreamer. So much so that if daydreaming could be a hobby, it would be her favorite. It’s how her stories are born and how they take root. An imagination that runs wild is something to be thankful for, and she is very thankful. :)

  She grew up in New York and now lives in Florida with her husband and four kids. She’s always had a love for reading books and writing. Being an English major in college, she wanted to teach at the college level, but that was not to be. She went on to receive an MBA and became a project manager until quitting to raise her family. Kim currently works part-time with her husband and with the rest of her time embraces one of her biggest passions—writing.

  Kim wears a lot of hats! Writer, book-lover, wife, soccer mom, taxi driver, and the all-around go-to person of her family. However, she always finds time to read.

  She likes to believe in soul mates, kindred spirits, true friends, and happily-ever-afters. She loves to drink champagne and listen to music, and hopes to always stay young at heart.

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