Casual Affair (Timid Souls Book 2)

by Melanie Munton

  “Do you live alone?” I asked breathlessly. I hadn’t been able to suck in enough oxygen ever since his lips first connected with mine.

  He mumbled something against my neck, sending vibrations throughout every nerve ending, and finally leaned back enough to answer. “No, but my flatmate won’t be here tonight. We’re alone.”

  That was all I needed to hear.

  I reached up and clumsily started unbuttoning his shirt. I was so hot for this guy, I needed to have him naked five minutes ago. We were both breathing hard, panting, as he moved his mouth back up to take possession of mine again and I was finally able to shove his shirt off his shoulders.

  Oh, have mercy.

  His chest was hard and tanned and had just the right amount of chest hair on it. He had the most beautiful six-pack and biceps that looked like they could pick you up and slam you down with little effort. I had to admit that I had slept with a lot of great-looking guys in my time. I’d had athletes and runners. I’d seen bulging muscles and I’d seen lean, trim bodies. I’d had guys who had come by their physiques naturally and some who constantly worked hard at maintaining them.

  But Zane was something else.

  He just had this raw quality to his appearance. His muscles didn’t look like they’d been manufactured in a gym. He was correctly proportioned all over. He had chest hair so it wasn’t like he waxed or anything. And I could even see various scars marring his torso, those that looked as if they’d been put there through some sort of physical activity.

  His body just screamed man.

  And I was all ears.

  I traced the lines of his six-pack down toward his jeans, my fingers going lower and lower, and stopping when I felt his hardness pressing against his zipper. I covered his length with my hand and started rubbing him through the denim, feeling him stiffen even more at the contact.

  He threw back his head and sighed deeply, as if I’d given him some relief. I always loved this part, allowing the man to experience how good I could make him feel. I loved hearing his reaction to my touch, craved seeing it on his face.

  “You like that?” I whispered and bit his lower lip, making him groan. I also loved that sound coming from him. It sounded rough and feral, almost animalistic, and so damn sexy.

  He didn’t answer. Instead, he let out a fierce growl and grabbed ahold of the bottom of my dress, yanking it upward and ripping it over my head before I could even process what he was doing.

  “I can’t be the only one getting naked,” he said, his hot mouth at my ear.

  And then I was standing there in nothing but my hot pink thong and heels. My dress was tight enough and cut in a particular way that I hadn’t needed a bra. Being an athlete for most of my life, my breasts weren’t huge but I wasn’t flat-chested either. I’d always wished they were a little bigger but at least they were perky.

  But the way Zane was looking at them right now, you’d think they were perfectly formed double D’s or something.

  “Fuck, Bea,” he breathed, making my panties flood with arousal.

  His eyes were heavy with lust and his voice was husky as he took in my almost-naked body. This was definitely how I liked my men. Desirous for me, barely holding onto their control, ready and willing to give me whatever I wanted. I’d give back as good as I got—I always did—but I just liked doing it my way.

  I stepped back from him and slid my hand up my chest, starting to play with my nipples, while my other hand traveled lower and disappeared inside my barely-there panties. Zane’s eyes flared and his hands fisted at his sides, looking as if he was about to pounce on me any second. His gaze was glued to both of my hands, his jaw ticking the longer he stared.

  He took a step forward and I moved back, away from him, shaking my head. “You’ve got to finish what I started,” I said, nodding down to his jeans. “I can’t be the only one naked.”

  He smirked for about a second, but it immediately disappeared when I hooked my fingers through my panties and slowly slid them down my legs. He shoved his jeans down his legs with jerky movements as his eyes tracked my movements. His attention shifted to my bare sex when I stood back up, licking his lips when he was finally able to take in every exposed part of me, his eyes darkening with need.

  His briefs followed his jeans before I had time to process his actions and then he was just as naked as I was. And if I thought his upper half was magnificent, his lower half could have had shrines dedicated to it.

  Where the hell are the flaws in this guy?

  Because so far, I hadn’t found any.

  I started to touch myself again—more for me rather than for him because he was working me up so much—when he sprang forward and caught my hands in his. I let out a sharp gasp at his quick movement.

  “No more. I’m in charge of that part, not you,” he grated in that low gravelly voice.

  Then, he brought my hands up to his mouth and slowly licked the fingers that had just been touching my skin without once removing his eyes from mine.

  Well, shit.

  I’d never had a guy do that before.

  Next thing I knew, Zane had wrapped me in his arms, my legs wound around his waist, and was marching to his bedroom. He threw me on his bed and was on me before the mattress even stopped bouncing. Without a word, he lowered his head and engulfed my entire breast in his mouth, sucking hard on the flesh and nibbling the skin before he would soothe away the bites with his tongue.

  “Oh my God, Zane.”

  Did the man ever have skill.

  I tried to grab onto his head and help guide his movements the way I liked. But his hands took hold of mine before I could touch him and raised them above my head, pinning them there.

  “Those stay there, luv,” he commanded, his voice authoritative. “We’re doing this my way.”

  I wasn’t used to a man being demanding. I was usually the one taking control and steering the evening in whatever direction I wanted it to go. I preferred to be in the driver’s seat.

  But there was something incredibly appealing about Zane telling me what to do and allowing him to take the reins. The mere thought of him being in charge made my pulse quicken.

  Definitely not a reaction I would have expected from myself.

  But I kept my hands there. I listened to him and didn’t move them, even as he lowered his mouth further and gorged on my throbbing sex, sending sensations through my body that I’d only ever read about in romance novels. Sure, I’d had plenty of men go down on me, but it was hard to find one as talented as Zane. Most were sloppy, didn’t apply the right amount of pressure, or couldn’t find the right spots. Truthfully, I usually ended up getting so impatient that I stopped them before they could attempt to finish me off.

  Zane wasn’t having any problems with that, though. He held my hips in place as he sent me to heights I’d never been to before. I gripped the sheets above my head, nearly tearing them to shreds as I screamed out my release.

  Wasting no time after that, he flew into action, sheathing himself with protection and bringing himself right where his mouth had been seconds before. He didn’t make sure I was ready for him; he didn’t need to. He drove into me, sliding in easily, though I still had to adjust to his size.

  His impressiveness didn’t stop at his abs, I’ll just say that.

  “Oh, bloody hell,” he moaned when he was completely inside me.

  And he didn’t start out slow and gentle. He was rough and hard right out of the gate, his thrusts forceful and fast, and I loved it. The friction between our bodies felt beyond anything I’d experienced before, and though I wasn’t coherent of anything I was saying through the mind-blowing pleasure, I was apparently being pretty vocal about it.

  “That’s right,” Zane said, pushing deeper into me. “It’s never felt this way before, has it? Never felt this fucking good before.”

  Another thing I wasn’t used to: the man doing all of the dirty talk. I was usually the one asking him the questions. I was the one coaxing reactions out of
him, not the other way around. I’d encountered one too many guys who thought they were turning me on the more they spoke during sex, but instead were just distracting me. One had actually used the word “vagina” during sex, I kid you not.

  But Zane’s words—his tone—it was all hitting right on the money. I found myself not wanting to say anything because I just wanted to listen to him. How someone could be that good at all of the facets of sex, I had no idea. And I was not about to stop him.

  “No,” I told him in between breaths, “it never has.”

  That’s when he suddenly pulled out and I felt his presence leave me. Before I could utter a word of protest, his hands grabbed my hips and flipped me over onto my stomach. I didn’t even have to think because he was guiding all of my movements with his rough hands. Yet another new experience. I was typically the one determining positions and guiding my partner. To my complete surprise, though, not being in charge for once was extremely liberating.

  Zane pulled my hips up until I was on my hands and knees, positioning me the way he wanted, and entering me all the way to the hilt. I cried out at how much deeper he was than before and how unbelievable it felt. He was gripping my hips, yanking me back as I pushed to meet his drives. The sounds of our heavy breathing and the slapping of our skin was ringing in my ears, sending heat straight to my core, as my body pulled Zane further inside me.

  “Ah, Christ.” He obviously felt me soaking him. “You feel so good.” And he liked it.

  I was so close. I was never able to climax this soon during sex, but I was quickly learning that Zane was on a whole other level sexually than I was used to. I was starting to pulse around him, squeezing tightly around his girth.

  “Yeah, Bea, that’s it.” He was slamming into me now, almost knocking the breath out of me. God, he was so deep, hitting places inside me I didn’t even know existed. I couldn’t help but tell him, too.

  “Right there, Zane. Oh, fuck, right there!”

  My orgasm hit me so damn hard. I think I even briefly lost consciousness in the whirlwind of bliss that washed over me. He wasn’t far behind. One, two, three more wild thrusts and he was finishing inside me. And me being me, the words The British are coming! The British are coming! stupidly flashed through my head as he found his release. I would have laughed hysterically at my own lunacy if I was able to get any oxygen to my brain.

  Whoa.

  I felt like I had just run a marathon…or a freaking triathlon.

  Sex feeling like that…well, it was most definitely a first.

  It was something that was hard for me to comprehend because I really didn’t think it could ever feel better than it had in the past. I thought that I’d pretty much seen it all, felt it all.

  I was so wrong.

  And I was exhausted.

  As soon as Zane pulled out of me, it felt like my body was instantly drained of energy. No one had ever taken it out of me like that. I was still lying there in a state of well-ridden peace as I heard him disposing of the condom and climbing back into bed beside me.

  I needed to leave, I knew. I almost never stayed over at a guy’s place. It was a recipe for awkwardness when we both woke up the next morning. Plus, I never wanted him to think that I was up for a repeat performance.

  But lying in Zane’s bed and feeling his warm body next to mine—especially when he wrapped his arm around me and pulled me into chest—felt too good. I would rest for a minute, let my body recover from what just happened, and then I would leave.

  That was my last thought before my eyes drifted closed.

  ##

  Chapter Three

  Zane

  Bugger me, I need a pint.

  That’s what managing three different branches of a company simultaneously did to you. I agreed to this temporary job because it meant more money for me, and the more money for me meant more money I could send to my father. That made the fifty phone calls a day and non-stop Skyping sessions with my people back in England—not to mention the hundreds of emails a week—worth it.

  “Mr. Price,” my receptionist said over the intercom on my office phone, “Ms. Schumer is on line two for you.”

  I sighed. Brilliant. One of our newest and biggest clients who seemed to have about five thousand questions a day regarding her company’s new analytics software that we recently installed, and almost always had something to complain about. I swear, if she hadn’t been bringing in so much business for us, I would have been tempted to refer her elsewhere.

  “Thank you, Denise,” I responded. “You haven’t heard back from Peter yet have you?” I asked before she could get off the line.

  “No, sir.” I don’t know how many times I’d asked her to call me Zane but she refused. “I’ll let you know the second he calls.”

  I thanked her again and spent the next half hour explaining to Ms. Schumer why a few glitches might pop up in the system here and there during the first two weeks of new software introduction, reassuring her that there were back-ups on top of back-ups and that no, years’ worth of her company’s research would not be lost just because the wrong button was pushed.

  Nine months I’d been in the United States and I’d only recently started enjoying it. Perhaps that was because I had just discovered fried twinkies. Or, perhaps it was because of the woman I shagged three weeks ago who had apparently taken up residence in my head.

  Bea.

  I never got her last name. I didn’t even know where she worked or what she did for a living. But that didn’t take away from the fact that I was dying to see her again. The night I’d brought her back to my flat had been replaying in my mind like a record on repeat. Her sounds, her touch, her body, were all seared into my memory.

  And that damn accent of hers. Holy shit, it was like it had a direct line to my manhood. I hadn’t been exposed to many southern accents in my day, but hers was by far the sexiest thing I had ever heard.

  I hadn’t expected her to stay all night, but I certainly hadn’t complained when I’d woken up the next morning to see her beautifully naked body still lying next to mine. I just laid there for a little while, enjoying the comforts of having a warm, soft woman in bed with me. But when I felt her stir and then bolt out of bed when she realized where she was, it was clear that she wanted to avoid any uncomfortable conversations. So, I acted like I was still asleep as she scrambled around the room, getting dressed and leaving without a word.

  If I ever wanted to see her again, I knew that I couldn’t spook her by acting clingy or pushy. So, I just let her walk out.

  I’d read her as soon as she started walking toward me at the club that night. The confident strut she had going on said it all. She knew what she was doing when it came to men, and she was definitely no novice when it came to that sort of bar scene. She was by far the sexiest woman I had ever laid eyes on, and I hadn’t been the only man in that club who’d noticed her. The woman was a damn tigress. She could have had her pick of any man in the bar and they would have crawled right to her, drooling.

  But she had come to me.

  And as soon as she’d started talking, I could tell she was used to having the control. She liked leading a man and not the other way around. It took me a little while to figure out whether or not that was because she honestly preferred things that way, or if it was because she’d just never had a man insist on doing the leading.

  I’d gotten my answer later that night in bed.

  She’d been so willing to take direction. I could see it in her eyes; my assertiveness excited her. No doubt, she was an amazing woman and sexy as all hell, but it was clear she had never been out with a real man. Because a real man knew how to read a woman’s responses. He could tell when he should allow her to have the control and then when she wanted to give up that control.

  The second I’d realized all of this about her, I’d wanted to be the first one to open her eyes to what she’d been missing out on. I wanted to be the man she gave in to. I wanted to earn that trust from her because I could tell
it was something she didn’t let go of easily.

  And I couldn’t have been happier with the outcome.

  Absolute best sex of my life, no question.

  Despite all of this, though, I also knew that she wasn’t looking for a relationship. I wasn’t really either, seeing as how it was August and I was scheduled to be back in London by the end of the year. It just wasn’t the right time to start anything serious. But that didn’t mean that I wasn’t open to a short-term thing with her. What did the Americans call it? A fling?

  I was certainly open to having a fling with Bea if it meant that I would get more of what we shared that night.

  So, I did something I probably shouldn’t have.

  It was why I let her walk out of my place that morning despite all of my instincts to pull her back into bed.

  We had woken up for a second round of shagging that night, and in her hazy state of post-coital pleasure, I’d told her that I couldn’t find my phone and asked her to call it. She’d been so worn out and contentedly sated—something I was extremely proud of—that she hadn’t even questioned my request.

  Which meant that I now had her number in my phone.

  Something I knew she hadn’t planned on giving to me.

  It was sneaky and probably wrong, but I didn’t care.

  I wanted to see her again.

  I hadn’t used it yet, though. I knew how women worked. I figured she would probably convince herself that she could never see me again, that it was just a one-time thing. I wanted to give her enough time to realize that she wanted to see me again, too. That’s when I would make my move.

  I wasn’t being cocky. I just knew how to read signals from women. I’d had enough girlfriends in my day and enough female friends that I wouldn’t say I was an authority on women, but I’d had my fair share of experiencing the many emotional stages of the opposite sex. And Bea’s signals had been loud and clear. She had liked what we did. And if she liked it that meant there was the possibility that I could convince her to do it again.