Anything.
Something.
Everything.
He sits up to remove his shirt and I gawk and miss his warmth. Like a teenager, I feast on his physique and watch every muscle move as his body contorts and he pulls the shirt over his head. Holy fuckness. The man looked big before, but in this position, he looks massive. His broad shoulders seem like they go from edge to edge of my queen-size bed. I feel tiny in his shadow cascading over the bed as he blocks out the overhead light.
As I stare at his chest, completely in awe of his size and hardness, he knocks away the edges of my towel and I gasp. The cool air hits my breasts and my nipples instantly harden. I don’t move to cover myself, but I keep my eyes pinned to his pecs and my hands resting on his legs.
I always pictured him with tattoos underneath his clothes, but his skin’s flawless and untouched. Possibly, he has one on his back that I can’t see in this position, but it’s just another way he’s surprised me.
He lies down on me, his naked chest to mine, and kisses me deeper than he had before. I want him to remove his pants. I want to see what is underneath. Being with a man for the first time is like unwrapping a Christmas present. I want to know what my gift is, and I hope it isn’t like opening a box of socks. I can’t imagine he’s anything but perfection.
My hands find their way to his back, and I gently run my fingers up and down his spine, feeling his skin pebble underneath. He grunts in approval, which makes me kiss him harder and dig my nails in a bit deeper.
Just when I am about to whine about him being too gentle, he slides off to my side and his fingers begin tracing circles down my stomach. I close my eyes and let the sensation fill my every thought as they find their way to my smooth mound. He looks at me, and through my half-closed eyes, I can see his smile.
For more Bites by Chelle Bliss, visit her at https://bookandmainbites.com/chellebliss
If you loved this Bite, read Enshrine on Amazon and iBooks
About Chelle Bliss
Chelle Bliss is the USA Today bestselling author Misadventures of a City Girl, the Men of Inked, and ALFA Investigations series. She hails from the Midwest, but currently lives near the beach even though she hates sand. She's a full-time writer, time-waster extraordinaire, social media addict, coffee fiend, and ex high school history teacher. She loves spending time with her two cats, alpha boyfriend, and chatting with readers. To learn more about Chelle, please visit chellebliss.com.
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You Were Cuddling Goliath
H.Q. Frost
"Your skin's so soft and clear," she whispered close enough to his face her breath touched his lips.
With his eyes locked on hers, he whispered in response, "I wash my face."
In a chuckle she shoved him and said, "It makes you look like you have a baby face. And your blue eyes." Her eyes flashed to his but only briefly as nerves flipped her stomach. It was the perfect opportunity for an actual kiss that she hoped he'd deliver, but she didn't want to beg for it.
"I don't wash those." He grinned, and when she laughed, almost pulling away, his hand slid over her hip and his arm wrapped around her back, pulling her against him. "Your smile makes me feel happy."
Their lips were almost touching and when her eyes closed, he went for it, softly pressing his mouth to hers, but before he could part hers with his tongue, there was a knock at the door.
"Nyla?" her dad called out.
Her eyes sprung wide and her hand flung to her lips before she whipped around to face the door.
"Yeah?" nervously came from her throat.
"I have to go to the bathroom."
"Okay. Just give me a few minutes. I'm not feeling good." She buried her humiliated face in her hands.
"You have the runs again?"
Dom muffled his laugh in the washcloth she used to tend to his face.
"Just give me a little bit," she called back, too mortified to face Dom.
"Try and hurry," her dad grumbled.
"Oh my god," she whispered into her hands, still with her back to Dom. "Oh my god, okay." Slowly turning to face him, he was grinning. "Shut up." She swatted at his chest until she started to giggle. "Stay behind the door a minute, I'm going to get him out of the kitchen, then you can run to my room. After you climb out, make sure you close the screen so Goliath doesn't get out."
The bathroom light flipped off and she cracked the door, peaking into the empty kitchen for her dad before waving Dom to her bedroom then heading toward the living room.
"I'm out," she quietly told her dad who was sitting on the couch with the TV on. "Dad, turn the TV off and get back in bed. Get a few extra hours. It's the weekend."
"Yeah, yeah," he mumbled turning the television off and getting to his feet. "You sick? I'm not, so it wasn't from dinner." He followed her into the kitchen.
"I'm fine. Night."
Before she got to her bedroom door, he sternly called her name. After freezing, she slowly turned to face him.
"We need to get you a car. I don't want you walking to work."
"I'll start looking tomorrow, Dad. Night."
"Night," he grumbled closing the bathroom door.
With her heart still racing she walked into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her then leaned back against it while her eyes closed. Hands softly grabbed her face and before she could yelp from the surprise, Dom's lips covered hers. She thought he would have left, but he wasn't leaving without the kiss he'd tried for in the bathroom. Her hands grabbed his wrists while he held her face, studying her lips with his then letting his tongue do the same before entering her mouth and tasting her. He pulled back when she moaned and their eyes stayed locked until a muted sneeze pulled them apart.
"You were cuddling Goliath," she mumbled and he grinned before sneezing again.
"Take my phone number. I usually let Jeff carry my phone around, but if you ever call me and he has it, he'll tell me."
Unsure where she put her cell, she grabbed the notepad from her dresser, and when she opened it to grab a piece of paper, he saw the drawing. The artistic ability was what made him grab it from her hands.
"Dom," she blurted loud enough that she slapped her hand over her mouth, not able to stop him from seeing the picture she drew of him after their first encounter.
"This is me," he said studying the drawing before looking into her embarrassed face. "Did you draw this?"
"It was before. When I saw you that first day. It's not really accurate," she fumbled with her words while reaching for the notepad.
"You're an artist, Nyla," he said, snatching it back from her then began to flip through the pages, impressed by the portraits of her cat, of the scene out her front room window, and the other random art that filled the book. "Can you draw me a picture of you?"
"Of me?" she responded to the strange request.
"For me. Draw me a picture of you for me."
"Yeah, maybe," she muttered while she grabbed the notepad and ripped a clean sheet off. "Here, write down your number." She thrusted a pencil toward him but he was too busy staring into her face to see it. "I'll give you my number too," she offered, to avoid his gaze.
When he took the piece of paper and pencil, he said, "I'll get you to work tomorrow. What time?"
A smile spread her lips and she watched him scratch down his phone number before mumbling, "Noon."
"I'll be here at eleven thirty." He kissed her lips before heading for the window. "Night." A smile filled his face.
As he closed the screen, a quiet sneeze interrupted his smile and he darted around the corner in a hurry to get home.
With a grin across her lips, she clutched her notepad to her chest and fell back onto her bed until Goliath walked across her face, making her laugh and abandon th
e notepad to cuddle her.
For more Bites by H.Q. Frost, visit her at https://bookandmainbites.com/hqfrost
If you loved this Bite, read What Makes a Man? on Amazon
About H.Q. Frost
H.Q. Frost is a fiction dictator in love with creating worlds that the improbable become probable.
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Give It Time
M. Piper
Knox
“So the party is still a go tonight?” John asks from across my desk. He’s not even looking at me, either. He’s typing away on his tablet, probably doing more work than I’ve physically done in the past week. That’s why I keep him around.
“Of fucking course it is, John. We open soon anyway. The building itself is ready to go. All we’re waiting on now is the final paperwork. We’re good for a fucking party,” I huff. The fact that the city just now is deciding to give us shit about this club being so close to a college isn’t my fault. They’re the ones that missed it to begin with. I should be grandfathered in.
And if I’m not, I’ll just find some asshole to pay off to look the other way.
“Great. Tents are here so I’m going to go get on with that,” he mutters, standing up while he looks through his phone. “Oh!” He spins and looks back at me on his way out the door. “Bringing someone tonight? For the guest list…” The look on his face is begging for me to punch it.
I narrow my eyes at him. He knows I’m living with Harper. He knows my situation. He also knows I don’t ever talk about my personal life.
Even if it’s been three weeks of living with her and she’s still yet to let me touch her.
Oh, it’s not because I haven’t tried. I’ve made it a point to show her just how good we could be together without even having to touch her. I’ve watched her clench her thighs together while we watch romance chick flicks that get to the steamy parts. I’ve watched her watching me when she didn’t think I was. I’ve counted the orgasms she’s given herself in these past three weeks, probably thinking about me just a room over.
She thinks she’s being quiet.
She’s not.
“So that’s a no?”
“Don’t you have somewhere to be right now, John?”
“Right,” he grins and spins, leaving me alone to my office.
One more month and these club doors will be open. Not open to the public, necessarily, but open for business.
See, Come isn’t your typical club. It’s not a sex club, but it’s damn near close. There’s no rank or hierarchy here. There are no Dom’s and Subs. There are no ‘red rooms of pain’ that that goddamned film portrayed so terribly a few years ago. What there is, though, is a specifically talented set of staff that know exactly what the patrons need and want. Staff that aren’t paid to fuck patrons, just paid to give them the show they need to fulfill their desires.
What happens after that is beyond my control.
Glancing at the clock I realize I only have a few hours until the party and I still have to head home and get changed. I wanted to invite Harper; I feel like we’re getting that connection I’m going to need to keep her once she finds out the truth. Next week I fuck her, and when I do everything will fall into place.
I can’t bring her yet, though. If she finds out too early what this is all about everything will have been for nothing.
I’ve only lived with her for a few weeks but we’ve already got a routine down. Living with a woman has never felt so free. It’s weird. Maybe I know she’s oblivious to what I’m here for, or maybe it’s because she’s not like any other woman I’ve met…but I feel free with her. I never realized how trapped I’ve felt until spending time with Harper.
Gathering my briefcase and other work possessions that I may need this weekend at home, I’m out the door and in my car without so much as a goodbye to my employees. They’re too busy anyway making sure tonight is just perfect for the party.
It damn well better be.
The drive back to the apartment is about ten minutes typically. Thirty minutes in rush hour traffic in St. Louis. These assholes don’t know how to drive. Not like in Springfield. At least in traffic in Springfield people are courteous and don’t ride the brakes. I’m going to be immensely happy moving back home.
Parking and locking my car, since I don’t trust this neighborhood to steal everything but the steering wheel when I’m not looking, I head inside to get ready for the party tonight.
“Hey,” Harper exclaims when her eyes hit mine. Mid stride in the hallway, she pauses briefly and lets her gaze linger on my work outfit. “I’m late. I’m sorry” She shakes her head and rushes past me, heading to the kitchen.
“You working tonight?” I ask, leaning on the doorframe while she searches for something to eat. Finding a corndog in the freezer, she tosses it in the microwave and looks over at me.
“Yeah. They just called and need backup. There’s a shit ton of people in town this weekend apparently and they’re slammed.” She’s talking while tapping her foot and throwing her hair into a messy bun. Her makeup is darker than usual and there’s a hint of red to her lips that makes me want to suck all the color off of them. The white tank top she has on cuts well below where it should, and whatever strappy thing she has on underneath it makes me want to fuck her tits. Hard.
Shit.
“You need a ride?”
She pauses and looks at me, then to her ‘dinner’, then back to me.
“Um,” she mutters. “I can walk. Dinner on a stick and all,” she smiles. My eyes travel to her tits again; perfectly plumped with whatever bra she’s wearing. The strappy contraption under her shirt is still holding my attention. It’s pressed perfectly against her cleavage just begging for me to rip if off.
I notice her hand come to her chest and start absentmindedly running across the fabric of it. I look up at her and the grin on her face as she stares me down tells me it wasn’t absentmindedly done at all. She’s teasing me on purpose.
I growl and shake my head.
“I’m taking you to work,” I say pointedly.
“I can wa—”
I storm over to her, not letting her finish her words before my hand goes around her throat, pressing her collarbone, applying just enough pressure to heighten her senses. She’s glaring at me but she’s not scared. No…the only look on her face right now is pure lust. I’m close enough so she can feel my breath on her ear as I whisper words only meant for her ears.
“You’re not walking around the streets like this, Harper. Not tonight. You don’t know who’s out there tonight.” I do. My club’s too close and I’ve met some of the patrons that will be at the party tonight.
She doesn’t need to mingle with them until I’m in control.
“Who are you to tell me what I can and can’t do?” Her voice is a whisper, but with how many times her eyes flick to my lips I know she’s not going to be putting up a fight anytime soon.
“I’m no one,” I whisper, staring at her lips. My eyes flick to hers and she’s fucking begging me for it.
She’s begging me for more than I can give her tonight, but hell if I don’t want to give it to her.
Maybe just a taste.
Leaning in closer, I press my lips to hers and almost grin mid kiss.
She’s so tense.
I can help with that.
When she doesn’t pull away, I kiss her harder, bringing the hand that was on her throat around her head and pull her towards me. A small moan escapes her lips and her body melts to mine. The kiss quickens and before I know what I’m doing, my mouth is going for her tits.
“Knox,” she pants as my fingers slide under the straps of her undershirt. Goosebumps rise on her skin and I grin, burying my face between her tits and inhaling her scent.
Jes
us Christ. I’m not certain my dick could get any harder right now.
Everything I’ve been working for is so close I can literally taste it but I can’t have it.
Not yet.
Pulling back abruptly, I clear my throat and wait for the onslaught of angry words that I’m certain she’s going to spew at me for that. Any girl would.
What I’m not prepared for, though, is the sly grin that spreads across her face. It reminds me of the Cheshire cat.
“Thanks for that.” She adjusts herself and grins at me. “The hot and bothered look gets me more tips at the bar.” She winks and pushes past me, leaving me stunned silent for the first time in my life.
I hear her leave, but I’m still in shock. What girl in her right mind wouldn’t be upset about that little tease? Is she not interested in me? Have I read her wrong?
No. That’s not possible. I’ve heard her moan my name in her sleep.
She’s just that good of a player.
And I’m going to have to work that much harder to break her.
With an hour to go before I have to be at the club for the party, there’s not time to relieve myself even though my dick is straining to get out of my pants.
Give it time.
For more Bites by M. Piper, visit her at https://bookandmainbites.com/mpiper
If you loved this Bite, read Dirty Desire on Amazon
About M. Piper
My first kiss was to a boy that I'll never forget, because he was a jerk. (Don't worry, I didn't marry that one) I moved out of my parent's basement and in with my then fiancé, and since have managed to get married, grow and nurture two small ninja boys and a dog that thinks she's a ninja, and somehow keep the love in our relationship. The trick? Be yourself, be honest, and make time for one another. I like Fireball Whiskey on the weekends and live off of coffee and smartass remarks seven days a week. Writing comes after the entire family has gone to bed and six a.m. comes early (hence the coffee addiction). I don't like long walks on the beach, but if you give me a beach chair and a good book I'll love you forever.
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