Don't Walk Away

by Elle Kennedy

  Dean turned, walking backwards, a glimmer of amusement in his eyes as he smiled and made her melt. “Just be your usual gorgeous self, and go with the flow.”

  In other words he wasn’t telling her what was going down.

  She stepped against his side when he stopped, whispering in his ear as he slipped his arm around her. “You like making mischief.”

  “Right you are.” He pressed his fingers under her chin and tilted her head enough he could brush his lips over hers, a brief kiss that made her tingle. “Don’t worry, I know you can improvise.”

  The woman standing at the desk smiled at them, her long dark hair pulled into an elaborate ponytail that let the tight curls cascade over her shoulders. The soft candlelight tones of the wall sconces made her skin glow like warm ebony. “Welcome. Two for lunch?”

  Dean cleared his throat. “Cassandra Myers?”

  The woman blinked. “Yes? Do I know you?”

  “Nathan sent us.” Dean released Emma’s fingers. “I have a message from him for you, if you have a moment?”

  Cassandra glanced behind them, but there was no one else waiting to be seated. “Sure. Go ahead.”

  Digging into his pocket, Dean winked at the woman as she smiled patiently. He raised a small white card in the air in front of him and proceeded to read dramatically.

  “Roses are red, and violets are blue, but neither of them are the flowers for you.” He glanced over the note and whispered reassuringly, “Nate told us about the little hay-fever date incident…no repeats, he swears.” She laughed as Dean returned to reading his cues. “It’s only right to find a way, to show how much you’re loved each day. So say the word, and the DreamMakers crew, will help us plan a paradise for two.”

  He didn’t just read the words, he worked it, making grand gestures and boldly intoning the awful poetry like he was performing on Broadway. By the time he finished, Emma was holding back her laughter, and Cassandra was full-out snickering.

  The woman raised a brow as Dean handed over a business card. “DreamMakers? Did you write that poem?”

  “No, ma’am, that was one hundred percent Nathan.”

  “That’s what I figured.” Cassandra’s lips twisted into a smile. “So what will you do? And what do I need to help with?”

  Dean caught Emma by the hand again, pulling her close. “We’ll have one of our staff contact you. She’ll interview you, go through some options.” Emma found herself in his arms, moving slowly to unheard music. “Maybe you’ll decide you want to dance under the stars, or—”

  He dipped her. Right there in mid-step, he twirled her on the spot and lowered her over his arm, leaning them intimately together as he stared into her eyes. “Or maybe he’ll sweep you off your feet and steal your breath away…”

  Emma couldn’t protest, even if she wanted to. She spotted Cassandra and other restaurant patrons watching with high interest, and then she couldn’t see anything except Dean as he closed the distance between them and kissed her.

  Whoa nelly, this was no brief, puritan encounter—it was heated and passionate, and borderline risqué. Dean’s hot mouth worked hers with mind-blowing thoroughness, and by the time he pulled away they were both breathing heavily. His grin widened as he tugged her back to vertical with a flourish, tucking her against his side as they stood before Cassandra.

  The woman fanned a hand in front of her face. “Well now, I have no objection to working with DreamMakers if that’s the kind of attention I’m going to get out of it from Nathan.”

  Emma didn’t blame her—heck, she was ready to sign up on the spot for more of Dean’s improvisations anytime he wanted. She waited quietly as Dean made the arrangements for Gillian to get in touch, and then they headed back out on the street.

  Their outing had been cute and unexpected, and Emma found herself holding tightly to Dean’s hand because somehow in the middle of doing his task he’d also managed to make her feel special. It hadn’t been anything wildly extravagant, but he’d trusted her, and it had just been…right.

  Corny as all get-out, admittedly, but there was nothing wrong with that. More of her earlier frustrations faded away to be replaced with a sense of happiness she hadn’t felt in the longest time.

  Honestly? She liked Dean. She liked him a whole lot. And maybe it was time to do something spur of the moment.

  Since he’d just proved improvisation could be a lot of fun…

  Dean couldn’t wipe the goofy grin off his face as he and Emma walked back to his SUV. When Parker had fallen head over heels for Lynn and turned into Mr. Romance, Dean had teased his friend mercilessly about it. But now? He felt like apologizing to the guy.

  Because he got it. Those embarrassing butterflies in his stomach, the excitement from seeing a woman’s name pop up on his phone screen, that overwhelming urge to do anything and everything in his power to make her happy.

  Love turned men into saps. Parker? Total sap. Jack? Definitely a sap. And it looked like the sap club had a bona fide new member—Dean fucking Colter.

  Hell, he might even laminate his sappy ass of the century membership card, because that’s how happy Emma Lee made him.

  “You’re still a cheeseball, huh?” she teased as she settled in the passenger seat.

  “A cheeseball?” He arched a brow. “Nuh-uh, babe. I’m suave and manly.”

  “Really? So you think dipping me and kissing me out of the blue isn’t cheesy? Because trust me, it is.”

  He started the engine and pulled away from the curb, then turned to flash her a rogue grin. “How do you know I didn’t do that to get in your pants?”

  “Because you’re already in my pants,” she answered with a laugh. “You’ve been getting action from me every day this week.”

  “True.” He slanted his head. “But maybe I was looking for a different kind of action today, did you think of that? Maybe I was buttering you up so you could, I don’t know, let me go down on you in the bathroom at lunch, or blow me while I’m driving, or—”

  He stopped abruptly when her hand landed on his thigh. “Hmmm. Is that what you want? For me to blow you right here?”

  Well, he did now. He’d just been joking around with her, but the feel of her warm, delicate palm stroking his leg sent a jolt of heat straight to his cock.

  Emma laughed again when she noticed the growing bulge beneath his zipper. “God. You really are DTF, ATT.”

  “ATT?”

  “All the time,” she sighed. “My assistant is twenty-two and her lingo gets stuck in my head sometimes.”

  Dean snorted. “Well, her lingo is pretty damn accurate. Because I am down to fuck all the time.” His breath hitched when Emma’s fingers slid closer to his erection. “But I was kidding about the car BJ, Em.”

  “Hmmm. What if I’m not kidding, though?”

  The next thing he knew, she undid the button of his jeans, then bent over and…dragged his zipper down—sweet baby Jesus—with her teeth.

  Keeping his eyes on the road was damn near impossible, not with Emma’s head in his lap. With Emma’s hand freeing his rock-hard dick from his pants.

  “Don’t you dare get in a car accident,” she whispered fiercely, and that was the last thing she said before her lips found his cock.

  Holy. Hell.

  Pleasure sizzled up his spine as Emma’s sexy mouth engulfed him, her tongue curling around the tip in a hot lick. His fingers tightened around the steering wheel, his forearms taut as he stared dead ahead and focused on driving in a straight line. Well, first he turned off the main drag as soon as possible, heading into an industrial area where the speed limit cut to only twenty miles an hour. Odds of losing control of the SUV were slim. The odds of getting pulled over by a police patrol…also unlikely, but not inconceivable, so Dean made a valiant effort to drive carefully even as his entire body was consumed by arousal.

  Emma licked the crown of his cock, giving a slow, hard suck before peering up at him. “You’ve got exactly two minutes to come,” she warned. “So
you better get on it.”

  “Me?” he managed to drawl. “You’re the one who needs to get me—oh fuck.”

  She was sucking him again, fast, deep pulls as her hand circled his base and pumped in unison to those eager sucks. Dean kept a death grip on the wheel as sensation swarmed his body, tingling in his balls and throbbing along the length of his cock.

  Two minutes? Fuck that. He only needed one. The excitement in his blood burned so hot that release came faster than he expected. And far more powerfully. His foot shook on the gas pedal as the orgasm sizzled up his spine. A stop sign. Oh, thank fuck, they’d reached a stop sign. He pressed on the brake, groaning wildly as Emma sucked him dry, her lips tight around his dick as he shuddered in pleasure and fought for breath.

  “Jesus Christ, woman,” he choked out.

  She gave him one last stroke of the tongue before sitting up, and the way she licked her lips sent another shudder through his body. “That was fun,” she said brightly.

  Hoarse laughter rumbled out of his chest. “Fun? I don’t think I can move my legs.”

  A smile played over her glossy lips. “Do you want me to drive?”

  He almost answered yes, but a loud honk interrupted them. Dean glanced in the rearview mirror, cursing when he spotted the line of cars behind their SUV. Shit. They were holding up traffic.

  His cock was still hanging out of his pants as he accelerated through the intersection, but Emma took pity on him and zipped him up with a chuckle, looking mighty pleased with herself. As she should be, because holy fucking shit, the woman had just rocked his world. She hadn’t been too adventurous when they were younger, but this past week, she’d had no inhibitions, no qualms to try anything he suggested, no matter how dirty it was. If anything, her sexual enthusiasm rivaled his own.

  That realization gave him all sorts of ideas. Ideas that made his cock twitch, in spite of its recent happy dance.

  “So. Where are we going for lunch?” Emma slipped off her shoes and put her feet on the dashboard. Her tone bordered on gloating, and her justifiable cockiness only made Dean more intent to find a way to return the favor and light up her day. And soon, like now—or sometime in the next three minutes.

  Then her stomach growled loud enough they both laughed, and Dean modified his agenda slightly. Food first, then fucking. It was a good plan and he knew exactly how to implement both parts.

  After one quick pit stop he brought her to the harbor where the DreamMakers’ yacht was anchored. Emma oohed and ahhed in admiration as he guided her on board Starlight Lady, then laid out a blanket on the deck for their impromptu picnic.

  The breeze off the ocean was cool but not cold enough they needed to be bundled up. Gorgeous sunshine lit the sky and the air was filled with the sound of gulls and rigging clicking against masts. The boats on either side of their yacht lay vacant, the owners busy at day jobs or however else they spent their afternoons.

  They ate and joked and enjoyed their time together. Even as he relished her company, Dean couldn’t peel his eyes off her bare legs stretching toward him. She’d tossed off her shoes before she’d sat down, and he’d never realized he had a foot fetish before. Or maybe it was just her feet. One small adjustment and he could be caressing her. Picking up her foot and nibbling on her toes. Kissing her insole until she squirmed. Sliding his hand up her shin and thigh then easing under the edge of her skirt…

  It was killing him to let her finish her meal.

  The sigh of satisfaction that escaped Emma thirty minutes later made the wait worthwhile. She crumpled the wrapper off her second In-N-Out burger and tossed it at the empty bag between them, wiping her mouth daintily with a napkin. “That was fabulous. You’re a far better cook than me.”

  He laughed. “Hey, I can barbeque with the best of them.”

  “Of course you can. Burning things at the stake has been hardwired into male genetics.”

  “So has ordering at a drive-through,” he admitted. “In-N-Out for lunch is a classic menu item for men. Or Five Guys, but there isn’t one nearby.”

  Emma leaned her head back and took a deep breath, her face lifted to the sun. “Does it make me sound immature to admit anytime I hear someone say ‘I had Five Guys for lunch’ I want to giggle? Talk about a dirty lunch hour. God, forget doing anything all afternoon—I’d need a nap after that much action.”

  Normally Dean would have laughed in response, but a bolt of intense jealousy shot through him with surprising speed at the thought of anyone else touching her. He’d had his share of ménages and always considered them nothing more than fun sexual adventures.

  Sharing Emma, though? No fucking way.

  “You get to have one guy for lunch, and trust me, I’m all you need.”

  Emma blinked in surprise as she straightened again and focused on his face. “Dean?”

  Yeah, he’d snapped at her with all the grace of a possessive asshole jerk. He couldn’t help it. She was his and no way would anyone else be putting that haze of desire on her face while he was around.

  He tugged the to-go cup from her fingers and placed it aside, ignoring her question. “Full?”

  “Mostly.” A smile broke free as he stalked closer. “Why are you looking all pirate-y all of a sudden?”

  “Pirate-y, I like that. It’s almost as good as being called a scoundrel.” He didn’t stop until he’d crowded her to the deck. Emma stared at him with bright and shining eyes from her position flat on her back.

  “Ready to be ravished?” he growled.

  She opened her mouth to reply and he stole her words. He pressed their lips together as he lowered his body over hers and pinned her in place. His fully loaded and ready-to-roll cock lay thick and heavy against the zipper of his jeans, and he nudged her thighs apart with his knees and settled farther between her thighs. The heat of her sex lined up against his shaft and he broke off the kiss, fighting for control.

  One move. One move was all it would take to have her panties gone. He could ditch his jeans and slip into her in mere seconds, making them both scream in pleasure.

  Too fast. He wanted this to last more than the thirty seconds he’d managed earlier in the day. So he rolled off her and brought her to her feet, pulling her with him to the center of the deck.

  “I really like the idea of being a pirate,” he warned.

  Emma tilted her head in amusement as she leaned on the forward mast, her arms tucked demurely behind her. “Oh, please, Captain Dean, don’t make me walk the plank.”

  He lowered a hand over his groin and rubbed his cock through his jeans. Her eyes widened as she watched, and he couldn’t resist popping open the top button. Easing down his zipper just slightly so she could see how fucking much she affected him. “I can think of something better to do with my plank.”

  Her tongue darted out and left a shimmer of moisture on her lips.

  “Take off your panties,” he ordered.

  Emma paused, then lowered her head. She looked up at him through her lashes as she obeyed his command, reaching under her skirt and wiggling her hips as she eased the fabric free. Pale pink silk slipped down her legs to land on the solid wood deck.

  Dean knelt in front of her, checking her face carefully. What he saw made every part of him hard and ready. No fear, no nervousness—nothing but anticipation and desire. He curled one hand around the back of her thigh, the warmth of her skin meeting his palm. “You did that so sweetly. Now open your legs.”

  Emma placed a hand on his shoulder and stepped her feet apart.

  He gave in to temptation and slid his hand higher until his fingers met the spot where her thigh met the curve of her ass. Emma shivered under his touch, her grip on his shoulder tightening briefly. Dean stared her in the eye and caressed forward until he made contact with her pussy. Her hot, wet pussy.

  “Fuck, Emma.”

  Her breathing quickened as he stroked his fingers through her folds. “Yes, please. I hope that’s the idea, at some point. Soon.”

  She moaned as h
e pushed two fingers into her, moisture coating him as he deliberately stroked in and out, slowly enough she was soon pulsing her hips forward and following his hand, looking for more.

  “You’re not very good at staying in one place, are you?” he murmured. “Hmm, I can solve that…”

  He pulled his hand free and she complained bitterly. At least until he caught her eye and deliberately licked his fingers clean.

  “Oh my God,” she whispered. “I’m going to spontaneously ignite if you don’t do something quick.”

  “The prisoner doesn’t get to decide how she’s ravished,” Dean reminded her, turning back from the storage bin he’d opened beside them.

  Emma stared at the rope in his hands with enormous brown eyes and a visible pulse at the base of her throat.

  “Yes?” he asked, because even though he wanted to—fucking hell, he wanted to—she had to be on board. Completely.

  She dipped her chin slowly, pausing as she glanced around them at the other boats in the harbor. “What if someone comes along?”

  Dean pressed his body against hers as he reached behind her and caught her wrists. That ugly streak of jealousy was still there. “No one but me gets to see you.”

  Since the stern of the boat and the forward deck were out in the open, he picked the one spot no one would see them. He tugged her across the deck toward the companionway where there were handrails fastened vertically on either side of the door leading to the cabin. Usually the solid wood sections were something to hold on to in high seas. Now?

  They were perfect for something else.

  He positioned Emma in the center of the door. “Grab the railings.”

  She curled her fingers around them and he made short work of using the rope to bind her wrists to the wood, her arms stretched to the sides. The entire time he worked, he kept in close contact, rubbing their bodies together, stroking his fingers over the bare skin at her neckline and throat until she was purring with pleasure.