Mistake (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Allyson Young

  He owned a house—she’d been invited there the third night of whatever their deal was, not that she saw much of it on the way to the bedroom. But in the light of the morning she noted it was a basic ranch style with a recently updated kitchen. Everything was clean and in its place, but sterile with the exception of the bedroom. Warm, if dark, wood predominated there, including heavy headboards and footboards of a big, wide bed covered in a goose down duvet. Four big pillows were propped against the headboard. There was an adjoining bathroom with a shower big enough for three people. Bryce obviously spent the majority of his time in those two rooms. The kitchen was well equipped, but after making them coffee in to-go cups, they’d go out for breakfast, so she had no idea if he ate differently at home compared to when they were out. They always ate out. Bryce never gave her the chance to offer to cook for him, which was okay because being a household drudge that one period in her life was enough. Although she wouldn’t mind making a meal for him…because she would feel it added to their…whatever it was they had. Okay, so she was feeling the urge to nest.

  So she actually knew quite a bit about him in the four weeks they’d been dating, with the exception of some of the personal details. What they shared in bed was very personal. There was a warm, fluttering response between her legs at the thought.

  A big hand curled around the back of her neck. Startled, she lifted her head and Bryce’s lips claimed hers. “Off in your head, sweetheart?” he murmured against them.

  He took the empty seat and immediately adjusted it to give him full access to scan the room before looking back at her.

  “I was,” she admitted. “I hope your beer isn’t flat.”

  “Nope.” Lifting the glass to his lips he took a few swallows, his throat working above his collar and her belly quivered to match the tingle in her sex. Everything about him was big and strong, and everything he did made her react in a good way. Tall, over six feet by maybe four inches, with broad shoulders and muscled arms, he had a cut chest and ridged abdomen, strong, heavy legs, enormous hands and feet.

  He made her feel positively delicate at five nine, one fifty-six that morning, stripped, on her very good scale. His slightly curly, dark blond hair was cropped fairly short and while usually clean shaven, she had firsthand knowledge of how sexy he looked with darker stubble. And his eyes…they were an unusual shade of brown. Not hazel, although sometimes there was a hint of green, but more of a tan, nearly golden hue of brown. They darkened when he came, to molten brown.

  “You order?”

  “Uh huh. Burger, medium, home fries and slaw. Your usual.”

  “You?”

  “Clubhouse.” She smiled, anticipating his response.

  “No fries.”

  “I don’t have the metabolism you do.”

  “I like what you have under that staid outfit, Jenna. Nothing wrong with your body. Nothing at all.”

  God. Another thing she knew about this man. He meant what he said. She could trust in it. It didn’t mean she would eat herself up another ten pounds, as she tried to keep her weight in the healthy range, but Bryce wouldn’t criticize her. He was in terrific shape, worked at it, and told her she should, too, for her health, but never pushed. She hadn’t told him, but she’d been swimming almost every day for the past two weeks, inspired by his fitness routine. Not that she was going to run. Her breasts were more than a handful, and sports bras aside, she wasn’t jogging.

  “I’m a receptionist, Bryce. For a staid investment company. I have to dress the part, and you wanted me to come straight from work.”

  “Makes taking it off you and unveiling what you wear under it all the better,” he rumbled, and her pussy totally flooded. Just like that. He liked her sexy lingerie and had no hesitation in showing it in incredibly sexy ways.

  They talked desultorily until the meal arrived and she noticed he didn’t ask her about her heavy thoughts. She wondered a little at that, but dismissed it because it stung a little. She entertained him with little anecdotes about people who called her workplace or came in for an appointment and he shared some of the less gory parts of his job. He was modest, too, nearly self-deprecating when it came to his work. When they partied with his colleagues and lips loosened a little, she learned what a good cop he was, heard some of the gossip, but she knew he would have never voiced it.

  The game played on, muted in the background, but he wasn’t interested, or at least gave the screen only the occasional glance. She supposed he was thinking of the evening activities yet to come, or at least she hoped he was because the anticipation was already building. The sexual tension between them was something tangible.

  Bryce ate ravenously, something else she liked to watch. He was tidy about it, but demolished his food. It allowed her to enjoy her own without falling into old habits of parcelling out every morsel, back in a time she wasn’t sure when there would be food on the table. He was indeed big all over and she wasn’t being licentious—well, maybe a little…

  “You want to do something first or go back to my place?”

  Jenna tamped her libido down. Anticipation always made it better and she found she wanted to spend time with him out of bed for a few hours. “Can we walk near the pastures?” She loved horses and the foals were being born every day.

  He seemed to hesitate and his eyes dropped from hers, but he nodded, reaching for his wallet.

  “I got it, Bryce.”

  “Fuck, Jenna. You don’t pay when you’re out with me.”

  Sighing, she gave up, having learned early on not to argue with him. He was old fashioned in some ways. “It was twenty-one dollars. And change.”

  A twenty and a five were placed in front of her. She picked up the twenty and gravely made change for the five from her wallet. When she pushed it across the table at him, she was surprised to see a look on his face she’d never seen before. Something appraising yet gentle.

  “What?”

  “You’re big into fair.”

  She felt her brow furrow and narrowed her eyes at him. “Yes. And honesty. Both are a huge part of trust.”

  The look vanished instantly and his features blanked. He tossed another five on the table for the wait staff stood and offered her his hand before she could puzzle on it. “C’mon. We’ve got a couple of hours of daylight to see those horses.”

  That look bothered her, but his hand was warm on hers and he gave her one of those Bryce smiles, full of promise, so she shrugged the moment off. They took his vehicle, with him telling her they’d come back in the morning for hers. She didn’t worry about her car—it was simply a means to get between point A and B—although the vehicle had actually brought them together. He didn’t let go of her until they reached his truck, and even then his hand rarely left its casual placement on her thigh. The heavy weight of it belied the casualness. It felt like a brand.

  The stroll alongside the adjoining pastures was everything she could have hoped for. Newborn and day-old foals tottered alongside watchful mares or nursed with abandon. The sweet scent of grass and wildflowers permeated the air, still with a hint of crispness but shading into spring warmth. The stud horse whinnied from his separate coral, pacing impatiently from end to end, tossing his head and occasionally pawing the turf.

  “The mares will soon be in their foal heat,” she explained. “He knows it and can’t wait.”

  “Me neither.” He didn’t inquire as to how she came by her knowledge of horses and she’d wanted to share, but his arm around her shoulders became suggestively heavier and Jenna acknowledged that the heat building between them over the past hour or so could no longer be denied. It suddenly didn’t matter if her job as a teen on a horse farm, a highlight in her otherwise less-than-wonderful childhood, was something to share with him at that moment.

  “Well, if you insist,” she teased.

  A brief chuckle and he replied. “I definitely do. Maybe we can do some role-play. I sure as shit feel as randy as that stallion.”

  Daringly, she moved her
hand to innocently drift against what was fast becoming a very solid erection, loving the way his breath caught. He turned her to face him. The flesh between her legs, already damp and aching, plumped further in response to the sexual need stamped on his features, and her nipples pulled into taut buds, rubbing against her bra.

  Yanking her up on her toes, his hands curled around her upper arms and he ground his cock against her, the scant difference in their height allowing him to rub her clit right through the dual barriers of his pants and her sensible skirt. “Bryce!”

  The walking trails weren’t yet deserted and Jenna could only imagine what people could see—and think. At least her action had been covert.

  “Fuck me, woman. You make me want to put you on your knees right here and…let’s go.”

  While he was nearly dragging her back to where the truck was parked, his face intent and dark with desire, she thought again how Bryce had become the man she’d dreamed of having in her bed since she was old enough to read romance and understand the implications. Her failed marriage had nearly destroyed those dreams, and no one else had in any way resurrected them, not that there were huge numbers of men.

  After her initial impulsive time with him, she’d been cautious with Bryce, superficial, following his lead, enjoying their time together, not sharing the angst of her past, nor being asked about her history, adrift on the socially and sexually satisfying experience of Bryce Meadows. She hardly noticed that he didn’t share either. Meeting him at the police station that day she went to report her car stolen was turning out to be the best day of her life.

  His big hands resting casually on the wheel, and as though in tune with her thoughts, he said, “I liked the outfit you were wearing the day we met, but that one puts me in mind of doing the librarian.”

  “Well, then you might want to let me punch your library card.”

  She delighted in making him laugh and revelled in his chuckles all the way to his home.

  Leaving their shoes at the front door, he escorted them to his bedroom, and she once again marked how sterile his house was. Another piece of the Bryce puzzle she hoped to put together, not that he’d shown that much interest in hers. She assured herself it was a relief, not having to revisit the past.

  He stripped his clothes off, carelessly tossing them into a corner, and yanked the covers back, dropping onto the bed. His long muscled body lounged there, major eye candy, long cock curving up toward his belly, the wide mushroom head darkening above the pulsing vein. He propped his head up on one elbow and gestured to her, a wicked smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

  First, she released the clip holding her hair in the usual loose knot, shaking her head a little to allow it to tumble down around her shoulders. Bryce loved her long hair, often wrapping his hands in it, sifting through the layers and sometimes just stroking it. He watched avidly and his cock twitched at her actions. The fitted suit jacket was next, a little shrugging motion, first one shoulder then the other shifting it loose to slide down her arms and off, landing on the chair behind her. His eyes fastened on her breasts, and she looked down at herself, seeing the nipples hard and thrusting against the white, silky material of her ruched blouse despite the confinement of her bra. Languidly flipping each little pearl button open one by one, fighting the urge to tear it away and leap on him, she let it slither off, knowing the lacy nude bra made the most of her breasts.

  The zipper was on the back of her skirt and she deliberately reached behind to find it with both hands, fully aware how her breasts would thrust forward and spill over the top of the lacy cups. She inched the fastening down, the little jagged teeth parting with audible whirs. Bryce’s breath sawed in and out of his chest, nearly drowning out the sound, and precum anointed the head of his cock. A little shimmy and the skirt dropped free to pool around her feet, leaving her clad in a matching scrap of nude lace panties and thigh highs, the lace tops a startling contrast in ecru. She knew—she’d chosen the underwear carefully that morning.

  “Fuck, sweetheart. You look amazing. Turn around.” His voice was a rasp.

  Obligingly, Jenna slowly began to make a full circle, but before she could complete it, the bed groaned and Bryce’s incredible heat was tight against her back, big hands reaching to cup her breasts, pinching the nipples. The lace in the fabric scraped the tender buds, ramping up the arousal that had simmered for what felt like hours and hours. His dick pressed into her lower back, a thick ridge of hot velvet, and her buttocks rested against his hard thighs. His mouth suckling on the curve of her neck, right where it met her shoulder, made her moan. He’d found all of her sweet spots, searching them out during their time together...

  Her bra dropped free, no match for his experienced hands, atop the pile of clothing on the chair, and her underwear skimmed over her hips and downward. His hand inserted itself between her thighs and she widened her stance. One finger probed and she could hear how wet she was, an almost embarrassing slick and sliding sound rising over the huff of their combined breath.

  “Step out.” She complied and he grasped her waist, whirling to lift and plant her on the bed. Her panties spun from the toes on her left foot with the movement.

  She fell forward, catching her weight on her hands, her hair falling to obscure her vision.

  “Hold onto the headboard, Jenna. Hold tight. You’re ready for me. Fuck.”

  Working her fingers around the slats, she felt the bed dip, then his knees pressed between her calves, forcing them to part wider and wider. The heat of him enveloped her, a snap of latex abrading her heightened senses, and then his cock was there, sliding along her dripping folds. She arched her back and the cockhead notched at her opening, pushing inside, aided by her cream. Bryce thrust in to the hilt, bottoming out deep within her, his ball sac a soft weight against her pussy lips as he stilled.

  “Okay, sweetheart?” His voice sounded disembodied, like he was in some other place, but she could feel him with her, within her, his sweat now a slick film between them. Her tender nipples dragged on the textured sheets and the sensation arrowed to her sex.

  Forcing a stuttering breath she managed a reply. “You need to move.”

  Withdrawing slightly, thrusting back, powering up his movements, Bryce fucked her, a true stud proclaiming his intense need. One large hand was planted beside her shoulder to take some of his weight, although she felt she could take it all, caught up in his possession. His cock swelled impossibly large, stretching the walls of her sheath, massaging a certain spot high up within her. She clenched on him, involuntarily, and he groaned. His other hand left its firm grip on her hip and slid around to her apex, a roughened pad of a fingertip unerringly finding and pressing her clit. The soles of her feet went numb and her release overtook her with the speed of light, shaking her world, burbling up out of her throat on a choked scream.

  He worked harder for another three thrusts before shuddering, setting his teeth in the nape of her neck with a huge exhale of breath.

  She mourned the loss of him when he eased back, his cock pulling out against her swollen tissues as they fought to keep him. Her fingers cramped with strain, and releasing her grip on the headboard took some concentration. She turned onto her side and pulled her knees up slightly, blearily staring at the alarm clock, noting that it wasn’t yet ten. That was another something they had in common. They both got up near the crack of dawn for work so tended to hit the sack early.

  Bryce came back from the bathroom, having disposed of the condom, and she ate him up with her eyes, proving she was an insatiable slut. Which was just fine with her, because it was Bryce she craved.

  He climbed into bed after turning off the light and pulled the sheet up to drift it over both of them, then looped his arm over her waist to draw her close. “Fucking hot in those nylons, Jenna.”

  One of her thigh highs was puddled around an ankle, the other rolled to the knee. She wasn’t inclined to either pull them up or remove them at the moment, content in postcoital bliss. “Thigh highs,”
she murmured.

  “What?”

  “Thigh highs, not nylons.”

  “Whatever. Fucking hot. I like your garter belts, too.” For certain he did. He liked it even better when she wore them with no panties, something she wouldn’t have dreamed of doing if it hadn’t been for his total and absolute glowing response. She had no shame when it came to him, feeling unfettered and free of all constraints. It was like he unshackled her spirit, yet held it safely without a hint of stifle.

  She drifted, conscious of his warmth and proximity, the slow inhale and exhale of his breath against the top of her head. They fit together, sleeping together almost every night for the past month, ending up in whomever’s bed was the closest to where they happened to be at the time. That meant rising even earlier in order for one of them to get to their respective home in order to change for work, but she certainly had no complaints, and Bryce seemed okay with it.

  When she next woke it was to the press and suckle of his lips on her belly, his tongue flirting with her navel. She pushed her fingers through his hair, trying to find purchase in the short lengths, and shivered. The light was on because Bryce liked to see what he was doing, and describing his visual more than aroused her.

  “Thought you should have had a belly ring, sweetheart. Or—” his head moved lower and she lost her tenuous grip, “—a little ring here.” His lips plucked at her clit hood and his tongue teased the knot of nerves out from behind its protection.