by Tasha Fawkes
I didn’t like that elevator, but at the moment, it sure beat the hell out of clambering up the stairs. As hot, wet, and ready as I was, I didn’t know I’d be able to stop Brady from mounting me—if he were so inclined—on one of the landings between the lobby and his penthouse.
We entered the elevator, and Brady closed the gate and then push the button for the penthouse suite. As it slowly rose, creaking and thumping, he pulled me against him, my back to his chest. I lifted my arms and wrapped them around his neck, leaning my head against his solid pecs as he fumbled with his zipper and positioned himself behind me. I felt nasty, but in a good, excited way. Brazen. I rubbed my ass against his groin, and he groaned, the sound rumbling from deep inside his chest.
I felt the draft of chilled air as he lifted the back of my dress, his cock probing for my opening. I shifted my stance, giving him more room. His head found its target without much difficulty. I wore a thong, and his cock slid easily underneath the loose-fitting lacy hem. My legs slightly apart, he clasped me tightly against his waist and then, as his hand drifted downward to cup my mound and mold my body to his, he entered. He filled me completely in one long, sure stroke. I gasped, my grip around his neck tightening as he rubbed his palm against my clitoris, his dick slowly sliding out and then surging upward again in a rhythm that matched the movement of his hand.
I groaned, ears buzzing, pussy throbbing, already at the point where I was about to explode when the elevator suddenly stopped. That jolted me into awareness. I glanced up at the old-fashioned dial, realizing the journey to the penthouse would be short-lived. The elevator had stopped halfway up. I quickly tried to reach for the stop button. Too late. Frozen, Brady’s palm still cupping my mound through my dress, his cock deep inside me, the iron grate door was pulled open. I found myself staring at an older couple, who stared back, eyes wide with shock, mouths open in dismay.
“Good evening,” Brady rumbled, then reached forward to close the gate. “Sorry, we’re going up.”
Stunned, I smiled awkwardly at the older couple as the elevator continued its upward momentum. Brady chuckled. I couldn’t help it and began to laugh as well. But the moment had passed. He pulled himself out of me, tucked his engorged cock back into his pants, and zippered up as the elevator finished its journey and disgorge us at the top floor.
Burning with desire, I reached for the gate myself and gave it a tug, then grabbed for Brady’s hand. Both of us laughing now, we stumbled toward his apartment. Once inside, nothing was going to stop me. I hurried toward the master bedroom, lifting my dress over my shoulders and dropping it in a heap by the bed. I turned around and saw Brady already tugging his shirt from his pants, his erection obvious, pressing against the fabric of his dress slacks.
I stood in front of him, naked except for my dainty thong, resisting the urge to cover myself from his breathtaking gaze. His eyes lingered on my breasts, prompting my nipples to instinctively harden, as if reaching for him, inviting the feel of his tongue. He stepped forward, slid his arms around me, and lifted me upward as if I weighed nothing at all. His lips encompassed my right nipple and suckled. I felt the jolt all the way down to my toes. Slowly, he released his grip on that nipple and then turned his attention to the other. I squirmed, my fingers digging into the thick muscles of his shoulders.
Finally, every area of my body on fire, he allowed me to slowly slide downward. I felt every rock-hard muscle of his chest, his abdomen, and his thighs as I did. Lacking the patience and rather ashamed of my lack of the same, I grasped both sides of his button-down shirt and pulled. Buttons popped. He laughed as I shoved the shirt down his shoulders as he shrugged out of the sleeves and waited, arms extended slightly to the side. Waiting?
I reached for his belt buckle, unclasped it, and then unbuttoned and unzipped the pants, shoving them down along his hips, my gaze following the descent of his trousers. His cock was thick, engorged, and pulsating, at full attention now. I sat down abruptly on the side of the bed and he took a step toward me, his dick aimed directly at my face. I took him into my mouth and closed my eyes, one hand reaching for the base of his shaft while the other cupped his balls.
My forehead leaned against his abdomen. I felt his abdominal muscles clench as my lips formed a tight, wet seal around his head. My hand slid over the musculature of his cock, so velvety smooth on its surface, the skin sliding easily over the incredibly hard muscle beneath. My tongue swirled around his head as my hand stroked, and my other hand gently squeezed his balls. His hands rested on my shoulders, a soft groan burgeoning upward from his throat.
He didn’t move as I suckled him for several moments. Then, and quite abruptly, I was swept into his arms and the next second we fell backward onto the bed, his body nestled between my legs. We lay like that for several seconds, our eyes meeting, our skin flushed with sexual passion. Did he feel the same thing I did? This strange and compelling pull? This was more than just sex. I felt it, but did he?
He closed his eyes and dipped his head, worshiping my breasts with his mouth, first one, then the other. He nestled himself comfortably in between my thighs. His chest rubbed against my clitoris, and I couldn’t help but respond.
His mouth left my breast and his tongue traced a line of liquid heat down along my own abdomen, his hands cupping my breasts, his thumbs slowly circling my nipples as his mouth ventured ever lower. I instinctively spread my legs further apart, inviting his exquisite exploration. My pussy already thrummed with anticipation, and then his mouth settled over my clitoris, his tongue gentle and warm as it swirled in circles, causing ever-increasing waves of heat to surge upward inside me.
I couldn’t hold back. His fingers, his tongue, and his skill had me responding in a matter of seconds. My hips gyrated and lifted upward, seeking more contact. The waves encompassed me and compelled me to writhe against him, my head thrust back into the pillow, relishing in the glorious ecstasy of my orgasm. My pussy throbbed in strong, rhythmic pulses. Before I caught my breath, I felt his head once again pressing against my wetness. I grabbed his shoulders, wrapped my legs around the back of his thighs, and invited him inside.
He obliged and slid easily into my wetness. Once fully engulfed, he paused for several moments, eyes closed, face tight with passionate attention, and then slowly, he began to move. Sliding easily out, almost disengaging before surging forward again in long, sensuous strokes. My hips lifted to meet every stroke, my hands reaching down to clasp that sculpted ass of his, trying to compel him deeper inside. His hips moved faster, the strokes growing harder. His balls slapped against my skin. Grunts, moans, and gasps accompanied the sound. The bed bounced with our enthusiasm. I completely let go of everything, all my worries and concerns about the future. What the hell. I was in the moment, living only for this moment, this contact, this incredible sex, this connection between two people.
His thrusts came faster, every surge causing his ass muscles to tighten beneath my fingers. He lifted the weight of his upper torso onto his hands, every muscle delineated as he sought greater momentum. My internal muscles contracted firmly around his cock, wishing to hold him inside me forever, at least several more moments. My hips rose faster, and my breasts jiggled as my breath came in short gasps. I felt another wave of ecstasy surging upward from the burning heat in my pussy.
I climaxed again, my inner muscles grasping him tightly with contractions. Seconds later, he froze. I felt the hot surge of semen, the pulsing rhythmic release of his own orgasm. I looked at his face then, head thrown back, jaw tightly clenched, eyes closed, a slight smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
His chest glistened with sweat as my eyes admired every feature of his face, the expression, relaxing now as he briefly sank down on top of me and then rolled over onto his back. I thought that would be it, but I was mistaken. He tugged at my arm until I rolled over on top of him. We lay like that, my head nestled into the crook of his neck, our breathing slowly returning to normal.
I’d never felt so comfortable, so satiated�
�� so… wishful.
Chapter Sixteen
Brady
I woke up in the master bedroom, temporarily confused. I had given the master bedroom to Dana. And then everything came back in a rush. Just a memory of it caused arousal. I turned my head on the pillow and watched Dana sleep. She lay on her back, her hair splayed around her head on the pillow, her chest rising slowly in deep slumber. The sheet was pulled up over most of her breasts moving slightly with each breath.
I took my time studying her—the long eyelashes settled against her skin, her nose, rising just slightly near the tip, the delicate jawline and those lips… those soft, pink, very gifted lips… I felt an odd catch in my chest and frowned. I didn’t want to admit it; didn’t want to admit my attraction or growing fondness of her. No, more than fondness.
I was falling for her.
Definitely out of character for me, and actually quite surprising. I had suggested this deal as a strict business arrangement with a specific goal in mind, but I hadn’t taken into consideration the possibility that I might grow emotionally attached to her or her presence in my home. Actually, I had never lived with a woman and had no idea what to expect, but this wasn’t it. Still, with Dana, I felt so comfortable, so much so that I felt like I could be myself around her. No bluster, no arrogance, no pretending I was something that I wasn’t. She was easy to talk to, so very easy.
While I was comfortable confiding some of my innermost feelings with Cassie, I never completely let it all go. Not that I didn’t trust Cassie, it wasn’t that. She was the only woman I’d ever been able to trust since Elise. It was just that I had grown so used to keeping my thoughts to myself and pretending that nothing mattered more than partying and sex that laying here next to Dana in my bed jolted me with the fallacy of my self-absorbed lies.
I liked waking up and finding her next to me, sleeping comfortably, not just a warm body or a receptacle for my amorous intentions, but as a companion, a friend, maybe something even more—
No, don’t go there. I refused to think that this scheme of mine would really work, or that I wanted it to. In a year’s time, she would go her way, and I would go mine. I don’t know what the hell had gotten into me thinking such thoughts, but I stomped them down firmly. No way could I allow myself to become emotionally attached to this woman; this private, kind, yet mysterious woman who had agreed to my ludicrous plan for reasons of her own.
With the mental shrug, I pushed all such thoughts from my mind and leaned up on my elbow, facing her. The bed shifted beneath me, but still not enough to wake her. I leaned closer and kissed her softly on her cheekbone. Her skin twitched, but she still slept. She must be exhausted from our lovemaking last night, and that was another thought that surprised me. It wasn’t just sex. We had made love, several times and in several different ways. She was somewhat inexperienced, but she was game. Passionate game.
I grinned and began to softly kiss her, her jaw, then that soft spot on her neck just under her ear, and then, crooking my finger and tugging the covers back, I made my way slowly down her shoulder, then the mound of her breast, and then, her abdomen.
I wondered how far I would get before she—
“…mornin’,” she muttered sleepily.
I looked up and saw her smile. “I was trying to think of a good way to wake you up.”
She offered a soft moan and shifted her legs. “You found a good one. Feel free to continue.”
And continue I did, until both of us lay side by side, chests heaving, skin shiny with sweat, both of us exhausted from our endeavors. Sex with her was different. It wasn’t just getting my rocks off, it was… I hate to sound lame, but we made a connection. And because of that connection the sex was even better and more fulfilling than I’d felt in a long time. I knew that from this day forward, it would be difficult for me to keep my hands off her. I had awakened a place deep inside me that I had buried for a very long time.
Finally, I rose and playfully slapped her ass. “I’ll jump in the shower real quick and then you can climb in while I’m making breakfast. Work for you?”
She nodded. I quickly stepped into the bathroom and showered, taking care to not use much hot water, saving it for her. With a towel wrapped around my waist, I left the bathroom and glanced at her, still lying in bed, arms crossed behind her head as she watched me. It took every ounce of willpower for me not to drop my towel and pounce on her again. With a chuckle and a shake of my head, I left the master bedroom, softly closing the door behind me. I stepped into the smaller bedroom, where I quickly dressed.
By the time I finished making breakfast, French toast and bacon this morning, she emerged, freshly scrubbed, hair wet, her jeans fitting her like a glove. She wore an oversized linen shirt, the cuffs rolled nearly to her elbow. She looked adorable and sexy at the same time.
“What’s on your agenda today?” I asked as I set her plate of French toast with a pad of butter melting on each piece in front of her, nudging the bowl of powdered sugar and the small jug of syrup toward her.
“One class, and then I’m meeting my brother afterward.”
I wanted to ask, really I did, because I was downright curious, but I didn’t want to ruin the easy camaraderie we had enjoyed the past few days. I kept it simple. “Did you work the thing out with your brother? The fifty grand?”
She cast a quick glance at me and then focused on her French toast.
“Yes, thank you.”
I could tell she wasn’t going to talk about it any further, and I didn’t want to pry, but again, I couldn’t help but wonder. Why did her brother need fifty grand? And how many sisters would do what she was doing to help her brother? I knew that she had her own financial concerns what with school, but the trigger had been her brother. That and because of her insistence that I give her the down payment as soon as our deal was signed caused me to assume that her brother was, or at least had been, in trouble. Who had she paid off? A blackmailer? A drug dealer?
Eventually, she might tell me, but then again, she might not. And since our deal was only for a year, I had a feeling that she would figure it was none of my business, which it wasn’t, really.
Still. After all, I didn’t want to leave myself open for any legal trouble, especially with the wrong crowd. Living in Dallas, I knew that all kinds of troubles came from south of the border. Maybe it would be a good idea after all if I did some checking on my own.
Chapter Seventeen
Dana
I was on my way to meet Charlie at the coffee shop near the campus, my emotions hovering somewhere between anxiety and anticipation. He had finally returned my calls. It was the first time I’d seen Charlie for a week, maybe even longer—I’d lost track of the days—ever since the night he’d been admitted to the emergency room. Where he disappeared to during that time I still didn’t know, but I was anxious to see him and to make sure that he was okay. At the same time, I was afraid that once he learned that his debt had been paid off, and that I had paid it, he would have questions. Plenty of questions.
I knew what Charlie would think if he knew the truth. I would’ve thought the very same thing not long ago. How could someone do that? How could someone be tempted to agree to such an outrageous proposition? But I guess that unless you found yourself in such a position, literally between a rock and a hard place, we could never be certain, not absolutely certain, of what we would or would not do.
I knew Charlie would have questions. Questions that I knew I couldn’t answer. I didn’t want Charlie to be disappointed in me, to feel beholden or guilty, and those were exactly the emotions that he would feel. If the shoe were on the other foot, I’d feel the same way. If I wanted to be blunt about it, I had to admit to myself that I had literally sold myself to a man for a year. Neither my reasoning nor my rationale for doing so mattered. Thinking of it that way was appalling even to me, and I couldn’t ever tell Charlie the truth.
Nevertheless, I had to at least try to be honest with myself. It wasn’t just the thought of Cha
rlie’s guilt that I dealt with. It was Charlie’s opinion of me. While Charlie had no right to call any kettle black, I never ever wanted to lose his respect. We fought and argued just like any other siblings, but I had always been the one to set the example. I was always the one who walked the tight and narrow, took the high road, did the right thing.
What I was doing was definitely, absolutely, positively not the right thing, but how could I ever explain my reasoning to Charlie? Would he ever understand? If he knew the truth, would he ever forgive me?
I pushed such thoughts out of my mind and refused to allow the self-doubt to creep in. Believe me, I had enough of that when I was by myself. I had done it and that was that. No going back. Water under the bridge. No use crying over spilt milk, no matter who had spilled it.
What was done was done.
I would tell him that I had met someone… someone with money, and he had graciously offered to pay off his debt. That’s all I would say. Now that I had a story firmly fixed in my mind, I approached the coffee shop. As I passed in front of one of the large glass windows toward the front door, I glanced inside and saw Charlie sitting in a booth. Just the sight of him brightened my spirits. He looked okay. I quickly entered and made my way toward his booth where he sat clasping a heavy porcelain cup half filled with coffee.
“Hey, Charlie,” I said, smiling as I sat down. “You don’t know how relieved I am to see you.”
“Sorry,” he mumbled, pausing to lift the coffee mug to his lips. “I’ve been trying to lay low.”
