Mixtape: A Love Song Anthology

by Nikki Sloane, Elle Kennedy, KL Kreig, Leslie McAdam, Lynda Aicher, Mara White, Marni Mann, Rebecca Shea, Saffron Kent, Sierra Simone, Veronica Larsen, Xio Axelrod

  He reaches for the hem of my sweater and lifts it over my head. I stand naked, on full display for him. His eyes smolder as he takes me in.

  “Fuck, Mia,” he hisses. Reaching out, he cups my breast in his palm, rolling my nipple between his forefinger and thumb. “You’re perfect.”

  Mateo leans down and pulls that nipple into his mouth, sucking it. He releases it with a pop, just as he reaches down and unbuttons his jeans.

  I help him with his shirt and before I know it, he’s lowering me to the floor on top of the blanket. The warm fire roars next to us and he settles between my legs. “I’ll never get enough of you.” He sucks on my other breast, and I feel his cock rub against my wet center. I lift my hips in invitation and Mateo growls as he’s seated at my entrance.

  “Last night was amazing, Mia, but today . . . today, I want to fuck you.”

  I gasp as he plunges into me. Hard and needy. My fingernails claw into the soft flesh of his back, and I hitch my legs up and over his ass. He’s deep. So fucking deep. He stretches me with each thrust, almost to the point of pain . . . that pleasure-filled pain that has me begging him for more.

  “Harder,” I bite out and arch my back.

  He pulls out of me completely before sinking back in and doing it all over again. “You like it rough, Mia?”

  I can’t find it within myself to use my words, so I show him instead. I press against his chest and roll him over in one swift movement. I ride him fast and hard, and he rests his face between my breasts with his arms wrapped around my back, holding me tightly in place. “Jesus fuck, Mia!” One of his hands slides down my back and grips my ass cheek.

  I throw my head back and Mateo pulls my breast into his mouth again, clamping down on my nipple with his teeth. A surge of electricity shoots through me, right to my throbbing clit. A finger probes at the entrance to my ass, and he slides it in just as I feel myself lose control. I come, hard and fast, with a loud scream. Mateo bites down on my nipple just as another orgasm washes through me.

  Now it’s Mateo’s turn to flip me. He pulls out and the next thing I know, he has me face down on the floor. With a hard yank, he lifts my ass into the air and enters me from behind. I’m so wet he slides right in. His thrusts are fast and with each one, he bottoms out inside me, hitting my cervix. It should be painful, but I’m still riding out my orgasm and feel another one coming. His right hand reaches around and pinches my clit as he slams into me. Every nerve in my body is on high-alert, and I’ve never felt such a combination of sensations all at once. Light pain, pleasure, tingles, and stinging. Every movement brings me closer to another orgasm.

  I can feel Mateo harden with each plunge and with a low growl, he spills himself inside me. We both gasp, filling our lungs with air as he falls on top of me. Once our breathing slows to normal, he carefully pulls out and rolls me to my side.

  “Every day, Mia. We’re doing this every day. Not one day will go by that I won’t fuck you like that.”

  I blush and press my lips to his chest.

  “I’d like that,” I whisper. He tangles his legs between mine and pulls another blanket off the end of the bed. He throws it over us and we lie in each other’s arms, my head on his chest.

  Two days ago, I was looking forward to spending a week alone in my parents’ cabin. Now, I’m trapped with the man I fell in love with when he was just a boy, and I can’t think of anywhere I’d rather be.

  “I love you,” he whispers, as he drags his fingers through my hair. His soft touch sends me into such a relaxed state that I feel my eyelids fall closed, and a sense of peace washes over me.

  “I love you too, Teo.” This is where I am supposed to be, with Mateo. Whether it’s in New York or San Francisco, or trapped in a cabin with no electricity, this is where I belong. “Yes,” I mumble, barely audible.

  “Yes, what?” he responds.

  “We’re going to make this work.”

  I can feel his smile against the top of my head.

  “Yes, we are.”

  ♬

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  Your Everything

  K. L. Kreig

  “I Just Want To Be Your Everything” – Andy Gibb

  Inscription

  “And think not you can direct the course of love, for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.”

  ~ Khalil Gibran

  CHAPTER ONE

  The hairs on the back of my neck prick as if I’m being watched.

  Taking my attention from the Sterling Industries proposal I’ve spent the last hour fine-tuning, I lift my eyes to see indeed, I am. My employer, Richard DeSoto, leans against the doorframe of my office, arrogant as always.

  Power-red Italian silk lies like blood pooled against the stark white of his starched dress shirt, easily costing a cool grand. The black, pinstriped suit is no less than seventy-five hundred. Berluti loafers add another two thousand, and the Cartier adorning his left wrist is more than most people’s cars in this rinky-ass town.

  He’s dressed as if he’s headed to a high-rise in downtown Manhattan instead of walking into a blue-collar environment where ripped jeans and plaid dominates.

  His extravagance is unnecessary. It’s intentional, this air of omnipotence he wears like a king’s crown, though. It’s meant to intimidate, control, to lord his greatness. And it has worked; I will give him that. It’s what’s made DeSoto Construction the unexpected empire it is today.

  “Richard,” I say with a slight nod. I’m irritated at the interruption and am unable to keep from hiding it.

  The corner of his mouth ticks up. It’s a tad sardonic. So Richard-like.

  Command.

  Control.

  Patience.

  He owns those.

  Only, I do as well. I’ve spent my entire life learning from Richard DeSoto, so I could best him at his own game someday, because there is something of his I desperately want. Something he has too much influence over at the present.

  As if he’s reading my mind, Richard holds my gaze for a few long seconds, his pupils hardening. Stepping into my office, he strides over to the mini fridge and helps himself to a Mountain Dew. My last one.

  He cracks the top. Takes a sip. Looks out the bay of windows behind me as if contemplating something of importance.

  He’s not.

  I’ve seen this act a hundred times over. His theatrics are meant to make me uncomfortable.

  It doesn’t work. Not anymore.

  I relax into my chair, rest my elbows on the arms, interlace my fingers, and wait for him to tell me what the hell he wants, my mind rolling with possibilities.

  I didn’t want to work for Richard DeSoto any more than most people in this town do. I could be anywhere. In fact, I was courted by four major East Coast firms, two starting out as a sales VP with a potential to make over half a million my first year out of grad school.

  It was tempting, getting as far away as possible from the cow stink and small-town gossip that surround me here. A fat bank account was never my objective, though. I chose to come home to Dusty Falls, Iowa, population just south of six thousand belly buttons because of one reason and one reason alone. And it’s not the paltry base salary Richard DeSoto is paying me. DeSoto Construction is a stepping-stone. A means to an end is all.

  At last, he takes a seat. Setting the drink on my desk, he crosses one knee over the other, and hooks an elbow over the back of his chair, so his forearm dangles loosely. Classic power move. Unfazed, I lean forward, grabbing a coaster to slide under the metal that’s already left a ring of condensation beading on the polished oak.

  I could let us steep in the silence, waiting for him to show his hand first. I think about it for a split-second, but I have better things to do, mainly getting this proposal out the door. I may not want to work for Richard, but
as long as I’m here, I’m going to prove my value. My sales closure rate is the best this company has seen in a cutthroat industry with thin margins and questionable morals. I’m proud to say that while I may butt up against that line on occasion, I pad Richard’s bank account with honor and integrity.

  “How can I help you this Monday morning, Richard?” I ask as an instant message from my assistant pops up on my computer screen.

  “Sterling Industries is following up on the proposal due this morning. What should I tell them?”

  Shit. This should have been out the door before 8:00 a.m., but I wanted to sweeten the pot, making our offer too compelling to turn down.

  I’m getting ready to type a quick reply when one word from Richard’s mouth scrambles that thought.

  “Maverick.”

  My eyes snap to his.

  Maverick.

  Mavs.

  My Small Fry.

  The “something” of Richard DeSoto’s I want.

  And the reason I came back to Dusty Falls.

  “What about her?” I ask, nonchalantly.

  Her name alone makes my pulse jump, my dick twitch, but Richard is waiting for a reaction. I don’t give him one. I keep every part of me relaxed, my face neutral. I finish that response to Alicia with slow, purposeful strokes on the keyboard, “Within the hour,” but all the while I think of her.

  There is not another soul on Earth like Maverick’s. No other woman has power as unique and salient. She is mouthy, spirited, and bullheaded. She frustrates me beyond belief. Makes me want to pull my hair out or put her over my knee with the crap she’s pulled over the years. To this day, when I think of finding her in Robbie Reams’ truck bed with his mouth clamped to her nipple and his hand shoved down her shorts, I go nearly feral. I’m not a violent man, but I wanted to kill him on the spot. Still do when I see him drive past me in that shitty, rusted Ford F150 he nearly stole Maverick’s virginity in.

  As angry as I was with her and that Reams shithead, though, I was angrier with myself. Letting her climb into my lap and kiss me that night was the final nail in my coffin. The way her lips moved in sync with mine, with finesse no seventeen-year-old should possess, only proved she was mine. The way her slim hips filled my palms, as her pelvis ground against mine was nearly my undoing. Heavenly perfection. And the taste of her? Nothing like it. I’d never wanted her more than I did in that moment.

  But that wasn’t our moment to have, so I stopped her before it went too far. It felt like a thousand shallow knife wounds, watching the passion she’d had seconds before slowly die, dulling those brilliant eyes of hers as I told her she was too young. Watching her walk away from me when I dropped her home was likely the hardest thing I’ve done to date in my life. The urge to jump from my car and pull her back into me was overpowering. I almost couldn’t resist. I wanted to beg her to give us time. Wait for me.

  But I also knew Mavs. She would have been relentless in her chase of me had I given her another opening. And it wouldn’t have taken a lot for me to cave. With every year that passes, those five years that separate us become less meaningful. At the time, however, they were an impassable gorge I couldn’t let us fall into.

  “She’s starting today,” he replies, drawing my gaze from my inner thoughts back to him.

  “Starting what today?”

  I feign confusion, but I know exactly to what Richard is referring. I ran into Mavs at the mailbox cluster the day before last. She’s matured so exquisitely over the past several years it was tough not to reach out and stroke the softness of her cheek, as she told me she’d accepted a job at an independent trucking company in Ames as a supply chain management analyst. Her father is richer than God Himself and a very connected man. With his influence, she could have any position at damn near any company she wanted, but she was adamant about making her own way. An admirable quality I love.

  I admit I was disappointed she’d be moving eighty miles away so soon, but I quickly remembered she just graduated from college and needs time to find herself, and getting out of this town and out from under her father’s thumb is the right step.

  That’s all part of the plan, anyway. The endgame. Hence why I’m currently sitting across from a man who would just as soon string me up than see me with his youngest. Richard has plans for his daughters, and my pairing with Maverick is not one of them, of that I’m damn sure.

  “Starting her new job,” he says casually, shifting so he can place his left leg over his right one now.

  I don’t understand why he’s making a big production of telling me this. Is this a test of some sort? Knowing Richard, probably. Not knowing what else to say, I offer, “The first day on a brand-new job is always nerve-racking. She’s bright.” She’s brilliant. “I’m sure she will do fine.” She’ll blow their socks off.

  “I’ve no doubt.” Fatherly pride beams from him.

  I’m not a fan of Richard and Vivian’s parenting style. Never have been. They ignored their girls’ interests in favor of their own. What they wanted versus what Mavs or her sister, Jillian wanted. Being as obstinate as she is, Maverick rarely acquiesced, fighting them at every turn. She didn’t win much, but she always gave a good fight. That Richard accepted Maverick’s job choice was surprising.

  “In fact, I think inside ten years she will be running this company far better than me.”

  “It’s possible,” I throw out, shrugging my shoulders. She could, though Mavs has no desire to work under her father’s tutelage. It’s a pipe dream on Richard’s part to pass along his empire to her. “Uh, if there’s nothing else, I need to get back to making you some money.” My smile is tight as I point to the papers in front of me for effect.

  Nodding sharply, he pushes himself to stand. He brushes his palms over the front of his trousers, smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles. “You remember fraternization is against company policy.”

  The fuck? What a strange conversation.

  “Of course.” I turn toward him fully now. I’d wager confusion is written clearly in the lines pinching my forehead.

  “Violation could have . . . unintended consequences.”

  Unintended consequences? Sounds like a thinly veiled threat if I ever heard one. And one that’s completely unnecessary. There’s not a soul here I’d consider wetting my dick with. My only temptation is a hundred miles away.

  “I’ll keep that in mind, Richard.”

  “Good. We’re aligned. I trust it won’t be an issue working with her then.”

  “Who?”

  “Maverick.”

  “Maverick?”

  “Yes. Maverick.” He punches each syllable of her name to ensure I’ve heard him correctly. Twisting his wrist, he glances down. “She should have been here by now. She’s probably late to spite me.” He mumbles the last part, though I hear it loud and clear.

  My brain is working to dismantle the bomb he has dropped on my doorstep, following each wire he so intentionally exposed, when, as if this were all scripted, the timing perfectly planned, the bomb detonates, rocking the very foundation my restraint has been built on. And when the smoke clears, the “something” of Richard’s I want emerges.

  Maverick DeSoto. In the flesh.

  And I guess the fact she’s standing not ten feet away from me means her father didn’t accept her decision after all. What did you guilt her with this time, you bastard? I want to bellow at Richard. If there’s one thing that works wonders on Mavs, it’s her father’s guilt.

  Anger bubbles inside my gut, the fury she should be following her own dreams, not someone else’s ready to engulf me. Right now, though, it’s dampened by waves of dreaded elation.

  My Small Fry is here.

  It’s dangerous, this feeling rippling through me. It’s a catastrophe, sure as a category five hurricane gathering force in the Atlantic, about to make landfall.

  Maverick. My Achilles heel.

  Our eyes lock.

  My breath catches.
>
  My God. She is so ethereal I am momentarily disoriented.

  That brunette, messy hair of hers, loosely braided off to one side, is as unruly as ever, strands poking out everywhere. Long, thick, sable lashes offset orbs of jade so unique they are otherworldly. She dons no makeup besides a light pink sheen glossing her full lips, and she doesn’t even need that. Innate beauty needs no window dressing.

  But Maverick DeSoto is far more than a pretty face. She is wonder. She is dimension. She is a softly spoken prayer. She is grit and unassuming and witty and positively the most magical being I have ever known.

  My body reacts instantly, almost violently. There’s no time to think about it or stop it. It’s instinctual. The quickening of my heart causes blood to pump in all the wrong places. I am immensely grateful my desk covers my lower half, or I’ve no doubt my balls would be twisted between Richard’s bony fingers in short order.

  I shift.

  She smiles that smile of hers that renders intelligent men stupid. I am not immune.

  Her gaze momentarily drops to my desk, the trajectory directly in line with my swollen dick. The upturn of her lips falters and she swallows hard, and we have a moment that is highly inappropriate for the company we are keeping.

  God Almighty, help me.

  How the hell will I deal with her being here every single day without deviating from my carefully laid plans? Without pushing her into the closest conference room, wrenching down those jeans of hers, and laying claim to the woman I’ve not been able to shake for years now?

  I’m not. It’s as simple as that.

  Fuck.

  I am in trouble.

  Maverick watches me watch her, her father not yet aware of her presence or that we are about to go toe-to-toe in the fiercest battle of our lives. Richard will likely stop at nothing to keep us apart, but there isn’t a thing he can do that will thwart the plans I have made for us. I will make my move and I will make her my wife, but only when the time is right. Until then, restraint and composure will be the name of the game.