First Kisses: a Book+Main Bites anthology
Page 13
“I watch that channel all the time.”
“Well, Mia’s getting her own show. It’s pretty exciting.”
“That’s wonderful.” I put my fist out for her to bump. “I’m excited for y’all.”
“What do you do, Maura?” Mac asks, and Chase’s gaze whips down to mine.
“What?”
“It just occurred to me that I don’t know what you do either,” he says with a frown.
“You know nothing, Chase MacKenzie.” I sniff and turn back to Mac, secretly enjoying the way Chase is laughing beside me. “I’m a teacher.”
“What grade are you teaching this year?” Kat asks.
“Fifth grade,” I reply and wrinkle my nose. “It’s not easy, but I like it.”
“And where is that accent from that I hear in your voice?” Mac asks.
“Texas. Austin, Texas.”
“What brought you up to Portland?” Chase asks.
“A job, and I needed to escape the heat. I wanted to see the seasons change, and I was tired of Texas. My family is there, so I visit a couple times a year, and that’s good enough for me.”
“I’m glad you’re here,” Kat says with a smile.
The rest of the dinner is full of witty conversation and more wine, and when we’re ready to leave, Kat decides she’s too drunk to drive us home.
“I’ll ride with Mac,” she says, slurring her words.
“I can call a cab,” I reply, but Chase shakes his head.
“I’ll give you a ride,” he says.
“You drank too.”
“I had one glass. I’m fine, I promise.”
I stand on the sidewalk and stare at him dubiously. “I don’t know. I think a cab will be fine.”
He takes my hand, waves to Kat and Mac, and leads me down the sidewalk to his car.
Which is as sexy as he is.
Damn him.
“You have a ’68 Camaro?”
He stops and looks me over before answering. “Yes. Are you a gear head?”
“No, I’m a car lover, but I don’t know how to work on them. This is a damn sexy car.”
“Thank you.”
He gets me settled in my seat. I’m a little buzzed.
Or, you know, a lot buzzed.
And I know that Chase is not the kind of guy I want to fuck with. Not in a he might throw me in the river kind of way, but in a he sleeps with all the girls in the world and I don’t need to be another notch in the bedpost kind of way.
But now I’m alone with him. I’ve always been careful to not be alone with him because he’s sexy and I’m a girl with needs.
Sexy needs.
He gets in next to me and fires up the car, and my panties are immediately soaked.
I clear my throat. “How long have you had this car?”
“A few years,” he says and watches as I reach out and stroke the dash lovingly. I can’t keep myself from touching the vintage radio, the gear shift, the steering wheel. Now Chase clears his own throat, his eyes glued to my hand as I touch everything in my reach.
“I like it,” I whisper.
“Maura?”
“Hmm?”
“Put your hand on your leg.”
“On your leg?” I rest my palm on his thigh and feel every muscle in his leg tighten. “Like this?”
“Fucking hell,” he mutters and moves my hand from his leg to my own. “If you touch me, I’ll want—”
“What? What will you want, Chase?”
He turns those warning-label eyes on me and narrows them menacingly, and I know in this moment that although my mind screams don’t do it! my loins have other ideas.
I’m totally going to fuck Chase tonight.
“Chase?”
“You. I want you, goddamn it.”
A slow smile makes its way over my lips and I cock an eyebrow. “Seems tonight is your lucky night, Chase.”
“You’re drunk.”
“I’m not that drunk.” I shrug. “I’m a little buzzed and a lot turned on.”
“By my car.”
“The car helps.” I grin and lick my lower lip. “I’d very much like it if you’d take me home with you.”
“If you change your mind, I’ll take you straight home.”
Well, at least he’s not an asshole.
“So noted.”
He puts the car in gear and stomps on the gas. The car squeals out of the parking space, making me laugh. “If you kill us before we get there, we won’t get to do this, and that would be unfortunate.”
He just smirks and watches the road as he zooms through downtown and into the west hills. Finally, he turns into a driveway and stops in front of an enormous house that in this neighborhood had to cost him a fortune.
“Nice digs.”
He doesn’t reply. He unclips my seatbelt and leans in to kiss me, but he pauses when his lips are just millimeters from my own. “Are you sure?”
“Totally sure.”
“You don’t like me.”
“Truth.”
“But you want to have sex with me.”
It isn’t a question.
“I want to fuck you.”
His eyes flare and he presses his mouth to mine, devouring me. His tongue isn’t too hard or too sloppy. In fact, he might be the best kisser ever.
His hand glides up my bare leg under my skirt and squeezes my ass over my panties.
“Are we going to make it inside?” I ask breathlessly. He grins, and then he’s gone, jogging around the car to open my door and help me up. Most of the buzz from the wine is gone, replaced by this incredible sex buzz that’s even better.
He leads me through the front door, slams it shut behind me, and immediately drops to his knees, pushes my skirt up around my waist and my leg over his shoulder, and plants a kiss on my core, right through the panties.
“Holy fuck.” I gasp and grip onto his hair tightly, afraid of falling over. His finger hooks in the crotch of the black lace covering the prize. He pulls it to the side and touches the tip of his tongue to my very hard clit.
“Now, that’s pretty,” he says before he takes my entire labia in his mouth and sucks hard, making me cry out and see stars all at once.
“Jesus,” I mutter when he leans back and tugs my panties down my legs and waits patiently as I step out of them.
“You have great legs.”
He kisses my thigh, then my trimmed pubis and the other thigh before he stands and cups my cheek, staring down at me as I just concentrate on breathing. I lick my lips and the next thing I know, he’s lifted me fireman style on his shoulder and is carrying me through his house. It’s dark, so I can’t see much. I just catch glimpses of chrome and gleaming hardwood, and then I’m dumped on my back on a bed the size of Texas.
For more Bites from 1001 Dark Nights, visit them at https://bookandmainbites.com/1001DarkNights
For more Bites from Kristen Proby, visit her at https://bookandmainbites.com/KristenProby
If you loved this Bite, read No Reservations: A Fusion Novella on Amazon
About Kristin Proby
New York Times and USA Today Bestselling Author Kristen Proby is the author of the popular Boudreaux, Fusion, and With Me in Seattle series. She has a passion for a good love story and strong characters who love humor and have a strong sense of loyalty and family. Her men are the alpha type—fiercely protective and a bit bossy—and her ladies are fun, strong, and not afraid to stand up for themselves. Kristen spends her days with her muse in Montana. She enjoys coffee, chocolate, and sunshine. And naps. Visit her at KristenProby.com.
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About 1001 Dark Nights
Inspired by the exotic tales of The Arabian Nights, 1001 Dark Nights features New York Times and USA Today bestselling authors
.
In the original, Scheherazade desperately attempts to entertain her husband, the King of Persia, with nightly stories so that he will postpone her execution.
In our versions, month after month, each of our fabulous authors puts a unique spin on the premise and creates a tale that a new Scheherazade tells long into the dark, dark night.
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What's in a Name?
B. Cranford
“Luthor.”
Duncan shook his head, his mouth too full of chocolate-topped popcorn to verbally shut down Ashton’s latest guess.
She was onto “L” names—having blasted through a few examples of each previous letter of the alphabet, but coming up empty. “Llama.”
“Fuck,” he said around his mouthful, eyes widening in surprise, making Ashton giggle. “How did you know?”
“Dunk.”
He raised a hand. “Hey, that’s Llama to you.” He smirked, swallowing the last of his popcorn before adding, “And my brother’s name is Alpaca.”
“You have a brother?” Ashton asked, narrowing her eyes as she tried to recall getting that information from him in any of the other conversations they’d had over the course of eight days.
“What, you’re fine with his name being Alpaca, but you’re annoyed I didn’t mention him before now?” He rolled his eyes, reaching into the bowl that sat between them on Ashton’s temporary bed. “Women. I’ll never fucking understand them.”
“Why do I feel like you’re not exactly being honest about your brother, Alpaca?”
“You’re right, I’m not. You caught me.”
“What’s his real name?”
“He is a she, as in, my sister. And I’m not telling. Once you figure mine out, I’ll let you in on that secret.” He wiggled his eyebrows at her, making her giggles return, and she leaned in to push gently against his shoulder.
“Asshole.”
“Nope, that’s not it either. Though, I do probably get called that more than my real name.” He pulled at the neck of his shirt, as if hot under the collar, a look of “oh shit” on his face.
Ashton leaned in to push him again, but this time, he captured her elbow before she could rock back on her butt. They sat, facing each other, eyes locked, his hand gripping her elbow with enough strength to hold her in place—though she felt frozen, like she wouldn’t have been able to move even had he released her—but not enough to hurt.
“Ash,” he whispered, as he used his free hand to move the popcorn out of the way. “Ashton.”
“Llama,” she replied, just as quietly, a soft smile on her lips at their little joke.
“I love it when you call me that.” He was moving closer as he spoke, rearranging himself so his legs bracketed her body. Then, finally releasing her elbow, he placed both hands on her legs, guiding them from their cross-legged position, so they were bent up and over his.
He’d made it so her center was pressed intimately against his straining cock. Ashton closed what little distance remained between their bodies by wrapping her legs around him and bringing her arms around his neck.
“Kitten, can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice low, his mouth so near hers that she could feel his request as it floated across her lips.
“Yes. Please.”
She expected that her permission would be met with an immediate joining of their lips, but instead, Duncan surprised her, bringing his lips first to her forehead.
She sighed, loving the feel of his kiss. It was sweet and soft and still somehow sexy, and as he moved his lips to the tip of her nose, to her cheeks, to the lobes of her ears, then back to her forehead, she didn’t care what his name was.
He could be Llama or Asshole or Jeremiah.
He could be Sebastian or Walter or Paul.
He could be whoever the hell he wanted to be, as long as his lips stayed on her for as long as possible.
“Duncan,” she murmured, not wanting to break the moment, but wanting to say something, something, so he might know how he was affecting her.
He trailed more kisses over the plains of her face, until he stopped at the corner of her mouth.
The pause felt like it might last forever. Her eyes, which had fallen closed the moment he’d first kissed her forehead, flew open at the touch of his lips to hers. It was gentle but it burned—the heat so much, so good, that Ashton thought she might feel it for days.
Long after she left to go back to her school.
Maybe even forever.
Propelled by the thought of forever, and the fact that it was more than likely not in the cards for them, she pressed in harder, rolling her hips against his cock, letting her tongue slip past her lips to trace his.
His mouth opened, slowly, slowly, giving her the chance to deepen the kiss even more. She grabbed the opportunity, relishing the way their bodies seemed to sync up—his hips pushing, hers pressing, his tongue caressing hers, his hands moving from her legs to her hips, then higher, to her waist.
Oh God. Oh God. There were so many perfect sensations rocketing through her that Ashton didn’t know which one to concentrate on first.
Maybe on the way his erection rubbed along her sex, the sensation somehow not dulled by the layers of material between them, but heightened, like the extra friction was the spark needed to set her aflame.
Or perhaps she should give all her focus to this kiss. This kiss that felt like it was erasing all the others that came before it and tainting all the ones that would come after it.
But then again, she thought, her mind working overtime to enjoy, to appreciate everything Duncan was doing to her in that moment, maybe she should be concentrating on the way his hands spanned her waist, rubbing up and down, up and down in a motion that, at any other time, might have been soothing. But not right then. Not in that moment.
It didn’t soothe. It created a longing that Ashton wanted to have satisfied. Needed to have satisfied.
Drawing back, she broke the fevered kiss, stilled her rocking hips and moved her hands from around Duncan’s neck to lay them over his. “Please,” she begged, “please pet me.”
His smile, oh God, his smile. It was glazed over with lust, yet so bright and real that it was another layer of sensation that she needed to put in order. “I thought you’d never ask, Kitten.”
For more Bites by B. Cranford, visit her at https://bookandmainbites.com/bcranfordauthor.
If you loved this Bite, read the entire story, About Time.
About B. Cranford
B. Cranford is a proud Australian living in the USA, a lover of books, breadsticks and bed, and the mother of two children who are far too similar to their father for her liking. A lifelong reader, she dove into the romance genre on the recommendation of her best friend and hasn’t looked back since. After three years as a blogger, she decided it was high time she finally finished one of the 12,002 books she’d started writing, and the end result was her debut novel, The Brightest Star.
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Gray Matter
Becky McGraw
When Mickie trickled oil up the back of his uninjured leg, Gray almost threw his back out twisting to look at her. “What are you doing?” he asked, his stomach muscles clenched.
“I’m giving you a massage. I thought that was obvious.” She smiled and rolled her eyes. “Do you want me to stop?”
Did he want her to stop? What a stupid question.
“No, it feels incredible. I, ah, just thought you were going to massage the strained hammy.”
“You’ll find that
I don’t do anything halfway, Mr. Jennings. I noticed you rubbing your neck earlier, so I assume you pulled something there, too?”
Mr. Jennings? That jerked him right out of his endorphin haze.
Thoroughness was definitely a bonus in both an employee and a lover. But Gray had sworn off combining the two five years ago. Michaela Girabaldi, her magical massage oil, and talented fingers had put a hex on him to make him forget that. As much as Gray regretted it, he knew it was time to call a halt to this.
“Uh, it’s just a crick in my neck from sleeping on the sofa,” he replied, and flinched because that was just about the weakest example of a cease and desist he could’ve mouthed.
His eyes fell to the scoop neck of her top, where her breasts rose and fell with her short breaths. A rush of adrenaline surged through him to make him lightheaded. God, what was this woman doing to him? Gray was panting, his body buzzing as if electrified, the anticipation of not knowing where she’d go next with this massage a living thing inside him.
“It will be worse once you get on that computer. Just lay down and let me fix it for you.”
Instead of waiting for a reply, Michaela straddled him near his waist, flattened him to the mattress with her palm at the center of his back. With a sigh Gray surrendered as she poured cold oil into the valley between his shoulder blades, because it appeared he was getting a massage whether he wanted one or not.
With quick sweeps of her fingers, she spread the slick liquid to his lower back then moved to the top of the ridge and pressed the heels of her hands into that tight band of muscle. She kneaded and rocked her way back up to his shoulders and he grunted each time she squeezed, because it felt so damned good. When she reached his shoulders, her fingers slid over his collarbone and every hair on Gray’s body stood up.