Hard Drive - Erin McCarthy

by Erin McCarthy

  Mack was oblivious to her horror. Or the shocked looks of their fellow diners.

  “That sounds like he just typed a passage right from a porno.”

  Kindra fisted her hands and whispered, “Mack!” Couldn’t he see she was mortified?

  “Now if I was going to say something to you, it would be something like ‘I can’t sleep without seeing you in my dreams, spread out across my bed, your hair tumbling around you.’”

  Wait a minute. Hold the phone. She looked at him in surprise. Was he trying to get poetic on her? That wasn’t part of their bargain. She couldn’t handle him saying lover-like things as if he actually cared about her. It would be too much like what she really wanted.

  She sat up straight, startled at her thoughts. What did she really want? Sex with Mack, right? Nothing else.

  Right?

  Mack brushed against her knee with his leg and she felt it reverberate through every inch of her body.

  “No? Not your style? How about ‘You’re a beautiful woman and I want you so bad I ache to taste you with my tongue.’”

  Kindra had known she was no match for him. This confirmed it. He seemed to be teasing her, a little smile playing around the corner of his mouth. She sat stock still, afraid to move, afraid to say something needy and grasping, which is how she suddenly felt.

  Vulnerable.

  “Not doing it for you?” Mack smiled patiently. “Do you like it dirty? I can talk dirty to you, Kindra. How about… you’ve got a sweet little ass and I can’t wait to fuck it.”

  Her mouth dropped. She swore she felt it clunk down onto her chest. She found her voice. “I don’t think, uh, dirty, is my style.”

  Not that she had a style. But Mack using words like that when talking about her was too much. Way too much. So Russ used it with her all the time. But Russ wasn’t real, Russ was like her computer screen had just gotten really smart and was talking with her. Real, but not real at all.

  Russ wasn’t looking her in the face. With gorgeous blue eyes and muscles rippling in his short-sleeve cotton shirt. Russ didn’t have a low, powerful voice that made women want to stand up and howl at the moon.

  Russ wasn’t Mack. Oh, so real, and oh, so close.

  Mack grinned. “Dirty’s not your style? Not yet, anyway.”

  If she were inclined to be honest, which she wasn’t, she kind of liked it when he talked like that. But nothing was going to make her admit that. Not in public. If he tried really hard in private, using all his powers of naked persuasion, she might concede the point.

  The waiter stopped next to them, brandishing plates of food. “Oh, look, our dinner is here!” She beamed at the waiter, then took a nice long swallow of her iced tea.

  Maybe she should have accepted the wine Mack had suggested instead. She was a little tense.

  When the waiter moved away, leaving the steaming fajitas in front of her, Kindra busied herself with filling and rolling up a tortilla.

  As Mack did the same, he suddenly asked, “How old are you?”

  Pausing with a pepper on her fork, she looked at him. He wasn’t looking at her, but was cutting his chicken. It was a harmless question.

  She answered, “I’m twenty-six.”

  “How long have you been in this position?”

  “Position?” she asked. She hadn’t kept records of how long she could maintain a sexual position. What the hell, did he think she was a gymnast?

  “Yes. At work.”

  Right. Work.

  “Four years.” Kindra took a bite of her fajita and savored the spicy flavor.

  “So do you own your house or do you rent?”

  Was this a loan application?

  She swallowed her food and said suspiciously, “Why do you ask?”

  He shrugged and leaned back against his chair. “I’m just trying to get to know you, that’s all.”

  Well, stop it. That was the last thing she wanted.

  This was supposed to be like the live version of Russ. Anonymous. Sex for the sake of sex. Mack would try and prove his point, she would get to fulfill a year-long fantasy and everything would be awesome. On Monday they would pretend this had never happened, and life would go on.

  Instead of telling him that, Kindra found herself saying, “I just bought the house six months ago. I was tired of living in an apartment.”

  “I know what you mean. I have these neighbors who are always yelling at each other. And I’d like to get a dog, but my building has this ten-pound rule. What kind of a dog is under ten pounds?” He shook his head. “Not any kind of dog I’d want.”

  The image of Mack with a bichon popped into her head. She giggled before she could stop it.

  “What?” He paused with his fork halfway to his mouth.

  “Nothing.” She put her napkin in front of her so he wouldn’t see her smiling.

  “Tell me.”

  “Okay.” She dropped the napkin. “I was just picturing you walking a bichon. With bows in its fur and a little hot-pink sweater.”

  Mack’s lips twitched. “Hey! I don’t think so.”

  Kindra laughed. “You could call her Bitsy. She could ride in your backpack with your laptop.”

  Mack looked amused. He grinned and said, “You’d like to see that, wouldn’t you?”

  “I’d love to,” she said with relish, not stopping to temper her words. For a minute, she’d forgotten that he was Mack Stone, and she shouldn’t be herself with him. She had forgotten that over the years she’d learned it was better to fade into a corner than draw attention to yourself.

  Her philosophy at work had been put up and shut up. Do her job and leave the office politics to those who were capable of handling it.

  Hide the bod and the brain.

  It had worked.

  But it also left her feeling unfulfilled and restless. Daring. Reckless.

  Capable of throwing herself into a steamy one-night stand with Mack Stone.

  “I like you, Kindra,” Mack said, his tone changing from amused to aroused.

  Her laugh cut off. His hand was on her knee. My God, he was stroking up her leg, past her thigh, to her…

  A gurgling sound left her mouth.

  “Mack.”

  Did that ridiculous breathy voice belong to her? She’d never heard that kitten purr emerge from her mouth in her life.

  Flustered and hot, Kindra tried to back her chair out to remove herself from his reach. She hit the wall.

  Mack’s hand settled onto her inner thigh above the knee, stroking lightly back and forth. Her skirt was bunching a little. He was barely even leaning to reach her and she felt a little like a fish on a hook must feel. She could thrash about, but that would only make it worse.

  Besides, it felt… good. Naughty. If anyone was glancing their way, it would look like he was resting his hand on her knee under the table. No big deal, people did that all the time.

  Gripping the table, she strove to act normal. Mack was eating more chicken with his free hand, his face a delicious combination of feigned innocence and wicked intent.

  She wanted him. His fingers were a vicious little tease, so close yet so far, and she was having trouble breathing. Her nipples were beading painfully against her tank top, and she ached and throbbed.

  With a deep breath, she reached for her fajita.

  Mack pinched her inner thigh lightly, sending a jolt of heat surging between her legs. Her hand jerked and the fajita fell on the table, beef tumbling out.

  Mack, his blue eyes clouded with desire, said, “I think we’re skipping dessert, aren’t we?”

  He had reached the front of her panties and he was stroking, stroking, stroking.

  Yeah, yes, uh-huh, that would be correct. Dessert was the furthest thing from her mind.

  Would it look pathetic if she called for the check now?

  Mack said, “I’m not really hungry. Let’s get this to go.”

  She was liking him more and more each minute.

  Mack was having a little trouble keep
ing his eyes on the road. They kept wanting to drift over to Kindra, who had her legs crossed again in the passenger seat, but whose skirt had hiked up way past the point of indifference.

  Just one hand in and under the skirt and he would be touching her panties. He should have bought an automatic transmission instead of stick. Then his hand would be free to roam about the cabin, right under her clothes.

  They weren’t talking, but the air was filled with Mexican spices from their boxed dinners, and a healthy dose of sexual tension.

  Every inch of him was aware of her. Her soft breasts rising and falling, her small hands clasping and unclasping, and her sweet floral smell.

  He was hard and heading out of control.

  Kindra peeked at him from underneath long lashes.

  His SUV flew into her driveway at forty miles an hour and he slammed on the brakes.

  Kindra grabbed the dashboard and gasped. “That was fast.”

  “Can you get something out of the glove compartment for me?” If he had to lean across her tits, he was not going to be able to resist a kiss. Or a suck. Right here in her driveway.

  “Sure.” She popped it open. “Oh!”

  She had spotted the big box of condoms he had thrown in there. Magnum size. Not that he was bragging or anything, but the regular kind just weren’t comfortable.

  “Yeah, just grab those, Kindra, and we’ll go on in.”

  “Okay,” she squeaked.

  She gingerly pulled them out and held them away from her like they were moldy cheese.

  They got out of the car, and he followed her up the walk to the front door. Kindra, in her eagerness to keep the condoms away from her, had forgotten to push her skirt back down.

  It was sliding and curving and moving, hugging her tight little ass and showing off a lot of thigh. It was made more alluring by the fact that she was completely unaware that she looked hotter than hell.

  At the door, she took her key and bent over to undo the lock.

  The skirt cupped her ass. He could see her panty line. The last remaining threads of his control snapped.

  When the door opened, he put his hands on her waist and pushed her in. She barely had time for a startled cry before he had spun her around and placed his mouth on hers.

  Damn, she tasted good. Like sweet and hot and spicy, her plump lips falling opening with a sigh of capitulation. He pushed his tongue in and plundered deep into her mouth.

  His hands gripped her waist, pulling her against him and he moved his legs around hers to cage her in with his body. He caressed her ass, grinding her against him as his fingers slid over the back of her skirt. Too many clothes. They needed to come off.

  Her breath came hot and fast in his ear as he pulled back and she whimpered.

  That needy sound made him reach out and pull her bottom lip into his mouth and suck gently. He eased her against the nearest wall.

  Her head fell back. She groaned. He pulsed with need. He wanted her more than he had ever wanted any woman, ever.

  He was going to have her.

  His hand shot out, ready to grip her tank top and rip it off, when she whispered, “Mack.”

  Kindra’s shy, trembling voice stopped him cold. He was supposed to be doing this right, taking his time and showing her sex could be a wonderful thing, better than anything you could ever talk about in a text.

  Don’t blow this for her, he told himself harshly. His dick could wait five minutes.

  Taking a deep breath, he stepped back. He shoved his hands in his pockets and cleared his throat. He counted to five.

  Then he said in what was almost a normal voice, “Show me your phone.”

  Kindra blinked. What the heck was he talking about? Why would he want her phone? No one touched her phone. It was more a intimate act than touching her vagina. Or at least a close second. She clung to the wall, her knee jutting out from where his leg had shoved her thighs apart.

  He was moving into her living room, looking around, as if nothing had just happened between them.

  She peeled herself off the wall and wiped her wet lips. “What?”

  Though his stance was casual, Kindra could clearly see his huge erection pressing against his black jeans. Good to see he wasn’t totally unaffected.

  “If I’m going to prove to you that the real thing is better, I have to know what that guy is saying to you.” He rubbed his jaw slowly. “I’ll read what he says… then do whatever it is to you.”

  Hello. Kindra felt her knees go weak. She flopped against the wall again. Mack was four feet away from her and he was still causing her body to tingle.

  His eyes ran up and down the length of her. His voice was hard. “Then you can decide which way is better.”

  “No one touches my phone,” she said. “It’s a rule. You can look on my laptop. It’s in the spare bedroom.”

  She pointed down her hall. “My bedroom is upstairs, in one big room, because this is a Cape Cod, the other two bedrooms are down here, I use one for an office.”

  Clapping her mouth shut on her verbal diarrhea, Kindra let Mack take her hand and pull her towards the office. Her computer was sitting on the desk, lid open. She left it on all the time, so it was just sitting there, humming happily, waiting for her.

  Mack said, “Open one of his emails.”

  Kindra hesitated, hovering in the middle of the room. There was some graphic stuff in those. “I delete them all.”

  Mack smiled, his eyebrow raising. “Just retrieve them from the trash. Come on, there’s got to be some in there.”

  The room was small, and cluttered with the desk, a file cabinet and a swivel chair. It had thick brown carpet that she had been meaning to replace and she stumbled, her heel caught in a loose loop of the carpet. Mack caught her and held her for a heartbeat, then released her.

  With trembling fingers, still standing, she went into her mailbox and fished around in her trash can.

  “Here’s one,” Mack pointed to her screen.

  There was more than one. There were a dozen at least. Russ’s email address stared back at her in black print, mocking her. Could she do this?

  Could she indulge herself, enjoy this without guilt, and relegate Kindra the wallflower to the closet for one night?

  “Open this one.”

  His voice was commanding, but soft. Titillating, but not frightening. She knew he wouldn’t do anything she didn’t want to.

  Her finger clicked on the mouse.

  The mail popped up.

  “‘Kindra, what are you wearing?’” Mack read. He chuckled. “I told you, not very original.”

  He turned to look her over. “But let’s see. What are you wearing?”

  Kindra stood still in front of the desk while Mack moved around her, his finger trailing across her back.

  “Sexy tank top in blue.” He went around the front, his fingertip dragging over her arm and falling onto her breast. “A bra. Definitely wearing a bra.”

  He brushed her nipple. She gasped, then bit her lip nervously. The finger dipped down between her breasts, causing her to shiver, and headed down to her skirt, where Mack tugged at the waistband.

  “Short skirt.”

  Down, down he went while she narrowed her eyes and clenched her fists. Oh, help, he was on his knees now in front of her. She knew what he was going to do, and yet she didn’t. Whatever it was, it would be a tease. She wanted his hands on her, all of his hands, touching, stroking, not this furtive brush with one finger.

  She guessed that was the point. To make her ache. His finger wiggled into the slit of her skirt and rose vertically again, dragging the skirt up with him.

  She felt cool air on her thighs and then the pad of his finger reached out and pressed against her sweet spot through her panties. Moisture flooded her.

  “Panties.” He studied her. “Very hot, very see-through panties.”

  It had been a dare to herself. They were brand new, never-been-worn-before sheer black panties. She’d seen what they looked like on her
in the mirror. She knew exactly what Mack was staring at right now. His face was only inches away from her curls. All he would have to do would be to pull the panties aside, then touch her…

  He dropped the skirt back into place. Kindra could have sobbed with disappointment.

  His hand caressed against her foot. “Sandals.”

  Then he rose up in front of her, brushing but never fully touching as he rose to his full height. Taller and taller until he hovered over her powerfully.

  Bending down over her, lips parted. She closed her eyes, waiting for his mouth to take hers again. He moved past her mouth and she opened her eyes in confusion. Her head yanked back.

  With a startled cry, she realized he was undoing her hair from its twist.

  “One hair clip, no longer in place.” Mack tossed it over his shoulder and drove his fingers into her hair.

  It hurt a little. He wasn’t gentle and the hair tugged and pulled, but Kindra barely noticed, so arousing was the look on his face.

  Mack was murmuring, “I love your hair. I’ve been dying to see it down. I just knew it would have red streaks in it.”

  Her hair could be purple and green for all she cared. She boldly reached for him, wrapping her arms around his neck, urging him towards her mouth.

  Mack brushed her lips, his tongue flicking across her quickly before he pulled back. She stumbled again as he let her go.

  “Let’s see what else your friend has to say.”

  Kindra stood in fascination, watching Mack scroll down through her emails. He was serious about this. He was going to act out Russ’s emails.

  Mack was going to touch and tease and stroke her until she either died from pleasure or begged for mercy, whichever came first.

  Either of those worked for her.

  “Here we go.” Mack stood up straight again and read, “‘I bet you have great tits, Kindra.’”

  Mack glanced at her tank top. “I can attest to that.”

  Kindra rubbed her hands on her skirt and tried not to cross her arms over her chest. She didn’t remember those exact words from Russ, so she didn’t know what was coming next. That was both frightening and arousing.