by K. Webster
He lets out a breath of relief. “Are you sure?”
Smirking, I scroll through his Tumblr app. “Have you had sex yet?”
“No,” he grumbles. “And before you rub in the fact you’ve slept with the entire female population at our school, I’m waiting for the right person.”
I toss his phone back on his bed. “Before you make any final decisions on your sexuality, why don’t you first focus on finding someone you’re attracted to? Then, go from there whether they’re male or female.”
He sighs and nods. “Good plan.”
While he watches porn, I take the longest, hottest shower known to man. And I focus on the one I’m attracted to. Stephanie Greenwood. But my hand doesn’t feel half as good as I know she’d feel wrapped around my cock.
She’ll always be a fantasy I’ll never get the reality of.
Stephanie
I smooth out my dress as I pace around my foyer. The house still smells like fresh paint and that reminds me of him. Anthony. I’m not sure what has me acting so strangely around him. Sure, he’s a gorgeous guy. I don’t know many men who are even close to being as built as he is. He drips sexuality. I want to lap it up. Problem is, he’s too young for me.
Which is why I’m going on a date with Damien Rice.
Damien is good-looking in his own way. Back in his basketball days, he had a harem of females throwing themselves at him. Now that he’s settled with kids of his own, I don’t know that he has the same level of interest. Lately, he doesn’t seem to be into anyone but me. That should excite me. Instead, I’m annoyed. I don’t want to go out with him. I’d only accepted because I’d felt as though I needed to get my mind off Anthony.
Ding-dong!
I groan and hurry to the front door, my heels clacking along the way. When I open the door, Damien stands there wearing a wolfish grin. His gaze lazily slides up my dress and settles on my lips. I’m already over this date and it’s hardly begun. Something about his stare is more predatory than Anthony’s ever was. As if he’s simply hungry and wants to take a bite.
Do I want to get eaten?
“Wow,” he says, his voice husky as he enters my home. “All this for me?”
I’m surprised when his large palms find my hips. He’s too familiar acting with me. It puts me off. I step away from him, but he grips me tighter.
“Don’t run away, little rabbit.” Again, with the animalistic grin. A flash of white teeth and darkness flicker in his gaze.
I’m going to need a drink for this. “You ready?”
He leans in and inhales me. “We could always stay here.”
Staying here would be a very bad idea. I’m not sleeping with him. And something tells me if we stayed, I’d be doing just that. I poke my finger into the middle of his chest. “I’m starving. You promised me dinner.”
His grin is crooked and he winks. “I promise dessert later too.”
I refrain from rolling my eyes and give him a strained smile. “Let’s go.”
Six.
Or was it seven?
“I’ll have another,” I tell the bartender and slap the bar surface.
The bartender gives me a nod. Damien chuckles beside me. “If you get shitfaced, I’m going to take advantage of this sweet body.” As if to drive home his words, he palms my thigh and teases his hand up under my dress. When his fingertip brushes along my panties, I let out a choked sound.
“Damien,” I hiss, my eyes closing in pleasure. It’s been far too long since I’ve been touched and not by my own hand. Years. “You should stop.” And yet my thighs are parting.
His laughter is smooth and silky. Dark and rich. “You don’t want me to stop.”
The alcohol burns through my veins. I know I’ll regret this in the morning, but I can’t bring myself to care right now. Not here in this moment when this man is making me feel good. Damien is a guy I should want to be with.
But my thoughts keep drifting to the forbidden.
Steel-gray eyes.
Full lips.
Chiseled jaw.
I wish it were his calloused hand scraping along the inside of my thigh rather than this smooth one.
“So wet,” Damien breathes as he leans into me. His mouth finds my neck and he sucks the flesh there.
“You need me to call you a cab?” the bartender asks as he clears his throat. He sets down the shot and lifts a questioning brow at me.
Damien chooses that moment to slide a finger into my panties. I shake my head at the bartender and quickly down the shot. The liquid burns my throat as pleasure ripples through me. I could come so easily with his fingertip brushing along my clit.
“Come on,” Damien urges. “Let’s go to my car.”
He pays our tab and has to help me from my stool. I nearly stumble off it, but his strong arms keep me upright. The room spins and I’m rethinking that last shot.
“This way,” he rumbles as he guides me to a dark part of the parking lot. His Audi is parked next to a giant Hummer. Instead of us getting inside, he twists me and pushes me over the side of the hood.
The metal is cool to the touch and I rest my cheek on it. It helps keep things from spinning. Damien lifts my skirt and squeezes my ass through my panties. When he begins pulling my underwear down, the world spins again.
I should stop this.
After so many years without getting laid, I shouldn’t be craving the touch of another, especially since I can hardly say I like him.
But I do want to be touched.
I close my eyes and imagine Anthony’s mouth on my neck. It sends shudders of need rippling through me. It’s dirty and wrong to think about him, but I still do. I wonder what he looks like naked. I wonder how he looks when he comes.
This isn’t Anthony, though.
“Wait…”
The sound of foil tearing behind me sends ripples of awareness shooting through me. From behind, I can almost imagine Anthony about to push his cock inside of me. The dick that’s rubbing against my ass right now is impressive, but it’s the wrong one.
This. Is. Not. Anthony.
“Fuck,” Damien grunts from behind me, shattering my fantasy. “Fuck, I bet you’re tight.”
“I can’t do this,” I murmur through my drunken haze.
As if he can’t hear me, Damien continues to rub up against me.
I close my eyes and grip the hood of the car. It makes me wonder if Anthony were here, would he kiss me? Would he cradle my face as he whispered sweet things into my ear? Just the image of Anthony in my bed curled around me has me nearly losing it.
“Stop.” My voice is just loud enough that Damien must heed the order.
He pulls away and grumbles. “Why? You were so into it.”
I don’t tell him it’s because I was imagining someone else.
I can’t believe I almost fucked my co-worker.
It wasn’t the gorgeous lawn boy.
No, it was smug-ass Damien.
Ugh.
“I know you’ll be good, so I can wait,” Damien coos as he pulls my panties back up my thighs and rights my dress. “We’re definitely going to do this, though. Maybe you need a little more romancing first.”
I refrain from rolling my eyes. “Can you just take me home?”
“I can take you to my home,” he teases. “I’ll romance you real good there.”
“Damien, please.”
He laughs. “Fine. We’ll talk more about this tomorrow at work.”
I swallow down a groan. I’d like to forget it ever happened.
“You look fucking miserable,” Anthony mutters as he leans back in his chair, a dark brow lifted in question. “Date that bad?”
I wince and tear my gaze from his penetrating one. The last thing I want to do is talk about my awful date that ended in nearly getting fucked over the hood of a car while I imagined him instead. I’m afraid if I keep my sight trained on his handsome face, he’ll know that’s exactly what I’m thinking.
“I just have a headache
,” I mutter and flip through some finished ad sets that John from the design team just emailed to me.
“It’s called a hangover,” he grumbles. “Did you fuck him?”
I jerk my head over and glare at him. “Excuse me?”
“Did. You. Fuck. Him?” His nostrils flare with fury and his jaw ticks.
I wither under his scrutinizing judgmental stare. “It’s none of your—”
“Goddammit!” he bellows, uncaring that people might hear him beyond my closed office door. “Why, Steph? He’s a fucking douchebag!” Rage simmers in his piercing gray eyes.
I sit up and lift my chin, seething. “I don’t answer to you. I can date whomever I want.”
He smirks like the smug ass he is. “I bet he didn’t make you come.”
“I did come,” I lie, a little too harshly. “Oh, God. Why am I even explaining myself to you?”
“You probably came because you forgot what it’s like to be touched. I doubt it was his sexual prowess,” he says, his tone irritated. “You deserve so much better.” His intense gaze drops to my lips for a moment before he lifts it again to my eyes. “So much better.”
I melt in my chair. The looks he gives me cause fire to blaze like an inferno inside of me. I’m annoyed that I’m attracted to someone younger than my daughter. And he’s right. I hate that he’s right.
“Steph,” he says softly, his brows pinched together as if he’s in pain. “You’re too good for him.”
“We messed around and it got close, but I didn’t have sex with him,” I admit, my voice small. Because I wanted it to be you. “And I don’t plan on it.”
He lets out a sigh of relief that has my heart skipping to life. “Promise?”
That’s a promise I can keep to the both of us. “I promise.”
Boldly, he reaches forward and takes my hand. I stare frozen at the way his thumb runs across my skin. It sends ripples of excitement flittering through me.
“Good,” he says, his darkened eyes on mine as he brings my hand to his mouth. “Very good.” His lips press to each of my knuckles in a reverent way that has me trembling with need. The need coursing through me is wrong and dirty. I’m ashamed of the feelings I have for Anthony. He’s so young.
“Good,” I mimic, my breath catching when his teeth playfully nip at one of my knuckles.
He goes to say something, but someone bursts through the door. I jerk my hand from his grip and stare guiltily at the intruder. Damien saunters in like he’s God’s gift to women. Sure, he’s a beautiful sight in his expensive suit and wearing his charming smile. His chocolate skin is flawless and his eyes piercing. A woman would be an idiot to turn down Damien Rice.
And I’m not feeling very smart.
“Tonight, I want you to come over for dinner. I’ll cook up some fajitas on the grill and make margaritas,” Damien says, flashing me his predatory grin. He completely ignores Anthony beside me.
“She can’t go,” Anthony barks on my behalf.
Damien’s lip curls as he regards my intern. “Are you her keeper, boy?”
Anthony stares him down, his jaw clenched in anger. If I don’t get Damien out of my office soon, I fear Anthony might punch Damien’s perfect nose.
“I can’t,” I agree, my voice soft and placating. “Anthony is coming by to work on the yard and help me build a gazebo. Plus, the pool is in dire need of cleaning.”
Damien narrows his eyes. “I could come help.”
I cringe at the thought of him at my house. “No,” I breathe. “We’ve got it covered. Thanks for the offer, though. I’ll catch you another day.”
Damien darts his gaze between us, suspicion dancing in his eyes. “We’ll talk about it tomorrow morning. When kids aren’t prying into adult conversations.” On that note, he stalks out of the office, slamming the door behind him.
“Like I said. Douchebag.”
I can’t help but agree.
Anthony
She opens her front door, confusion marring her pretty face. “W-What are you doing here?”
I laugh as I saunter into her house. “Helping you with your projects. Cleaning your pool. Remember?”
A huff of frustration behind me makes me smile. She slams the front door and pads after me. I’ve made it to the back door before she clutches onto my elbow.
“Anthony, stop,” she snaps.
I jerk my head over my shoulder and look down at her. Sometimes she’s so fucking pretty, it maddens me. I want to cup her face and kiss her like crazy. “What?”
“Go home. I don’t need the help. I was lying.”
Ignoring her, I open the door and pull from her grip. The jungle that is her backyard awaits me. Her pool is littered with leaves. She needs my help. I peel off my shirt and toss my phone and keys on a table before striding over to the net. Behind me, she huffs and puffs, but I don’t let it get to me. I start cleaning the pool as if she’s not watching.
But she is watching.
Her heated stare melts into me.
I still can’t believe she almost fucked Damien. That guy is such an asshole. He’s probably a selfish bastard in bed. Certainly not deserving of someone like Steph.
For what feels like hours, I work on the backyard and the pool. I’m just swiping away sweat from my brow as I bag up some leaves when I hear a splash. I drag my gaze away from my task and gape at the vision before me.
In nothing but a tiny yellow bikini, Steph begins swimming laps in her pool. She sluices through the water like a fucking mermaid. My cock is immediately hard in my shorts. I watch her swim back and forth for a good ten minutes before I make the decision to join her. I’m hot as fuck and I deserve a dip in the pool with her. I kick off my shoes and peel off my socks before running in her direction. She squeals when I dive in beside her. Those squeals echo under the water and I’m pretty sure she’s yelling at me. When I resurface, she’s not amused.
“You’re supposed to be working,” she snaps, her blue eyes bright despite the setting sun.
I swim over to her and stand to where my body is just inches from hers. Her breathing is ragged, but she makes no move to back away. So, I crowd her more. My chest bumps against hers, making us both hiss in a sharp breath of air. She takes a step away from me, so I bump her chest again, this time letting my aching cock press against her stomach for a moment.
“Anthony,” she chides.
Another step back. I keep bumping her with my body until her back hits the side of the pool. My arms cage her in as I grip the side of the concrete on either side of her.
“Steph.”
“What are you doing?”
I roll my hips and let her feel my hard cock again. “Just swimming.”
“This is…this is…” Her words are breathy. She’s turned on. Her nostrils flare and she licks her lips.
“Nice?”
“Wrong.”
I lean forward and bring my lips to her ear. “It feels right to me.” Again, I rub my cock against her belly. “So right.”
Her palms press against my chest as she attempts and fails to push me away. She parts her lips and gives me a helpless stare.
“You’re just a kid,” she chokes out.
“I’m eighteen fucking years old,” I grumble at her stupid words. “Do I feel like a kid to you?”
A mewl escapes her when my lips brush along the flesh just under her ear. I run my tongue along her skin that tastes like chlorine.
“Answer me, Steph. Do I feel like a kid to you?”
She whimpers. “N-No.”
“I’m all man.”
I nip at her neck and she moans.
“Oh, God.”
“You deserve so much better than him,” I mutter and then run my tongue along her skin. I tug at her earlobe with my teeth. “I wanted to fucking kill him today for touching you.”
Her palms on my chest slide up to my neck. It’s as though she’s inviting me closer. I take the invitation and slip a palm to her firm ass. Lifting her, I’m elated when she wraps
her legs around my waist. I suck on her neck as I grind against her pussy with my aching dick.
“Ohhhh,” she cries out, her fingers linking behind my neck.
I grip her jaw and bring our mouths together. Her mouth remains parted and she lets me guide the way. I press my lips to hers, kissing her in a soft, reverent way. Then, I dive my tongue deep into her mouth and kiss her hard. I devour her moans. She feels so fucking good rubbing against my dick through my shorts.
“Did he make you feel this good?” I demand against her lips.
She whimpers. “N-No.”
“Good girl.” I tear from her kiss and attack her throat. I suck the flesh with one purpose in mind. Leave a motherfucking hickey on her neck so that asshole sees she was never his to begin with.
“Anthony,” she breathes. “We should stop.”
I pull away and frown at her. “Am I hurting you?”
Guilt flashes in her blue eyes. “No…it’s just not right.”
With my eyes searing hers, I rub my cock against her center. She bites on her lip and her breasts jut forward as if her body is begging for something her mouth won’t ask for. I cup her perfect tit and pull the fabric away so I can see her nipple. Small. Erect. Pink. Cute as fucking hell.
“Beg me to come, baby,” I demand, my gaze locked on hers. “Beg me.”
Defiance flares in her eyes. “No.” And yet she digs her heels into my ass to draw me closer.
“You want me to leave?” I challenge. I pinch her nipple, causing her to yelp. “Want to go upstairs and take care of things yourself?”
“Yes,” she lies, her voice nothing but a breath of air.
“Does your vibrator make you come so hard?” I ask, twisting her nipple slightly as I buck against her again.
“It does.” A loud moan follows that statement.
“Do you think of me when you have it between your legs? Do you wish it were my tongue?”
She whimpers. Her eyes are flickering with hunger, but the stubborn woman just shakes her head. “I don’t.”
I slide my hand between us. She lets out a choked sound when I rub my finger over her clit over her suit. “Do you imagine him touching you like this?”
