by Jory Strong
She was helpless to prevent her body from reacting to it. Her heart fluttered. Her breasts begged. Her sex wept. She’d never felt as feminine, as vulnerable, as desirable as she did in that instant.
He stepped into her, grasped the hair at the back of her head, forcing her to meet his eyes, and it felt as if he’d poured undiluted need into her bloodstream with his grip and his gaze.
She licked her lips.
His eyes dipped, darkened.
“Invite me in, Grace.”
Liquid heat moved through her abdomen, slid downward to plump the lips of her sex and make her clit stiffen.
He was asking her to surrender without even a token struggle.
Did it matter?
Did she care why he’d suddenly appeared at her door?
The answer to both those questions should be yes. But for once in her life she wanted to be like Lyric and Shane and Braden, unafraid of what tomorrow was going to bring, uncaring of the consequences.
This wasn’t going to end the same way it had with David. There wouldn’t be a betrayal if right from the beginning she accepted this as casual.
She pressed her palms against Cade’s chest, sliding her hands upward as she rose onto her toes, her mouth slowly approaching his, the pounding of his heart against her palm feeding a steady, hard thrum of desire into her.
He was all muscle, a wall of solid strength beneath his shirt. She’d seen him stripped down to shorts, all golden skin and rippling prowess as he played volleyball, but right now, those memories weren’t nearly as mouthwatering as the fully clothed Cade right in front of her, his expression growing more possessive, more dominating the closer her mouth got to his.
Her hands moved from chest to broad shoulders, sweeping around to lock behind his neck, bringing her body into full contact with his. A shiver went through her with the press of her breasts against his solid chest, the press of his erection against her mound—unrelenting hardness that made her want to whimper, to rub herself against him until he jerked sweats and panties downward and filled her.
“Cade,” she whispered, her lips reaching his, moaning at that first surrendered touch, soft and yielding to firm and commanding.
The hand in her hair tightened, sending a shot of heat straight to her sex. Her tongue darted out, tracing the seam of his mouth. Supplication. Shameless pleading. Sensual invitation.
His lips parted, his jaw forcing hers to widen as if opening a doorway to her heart, her soul, the entirety of her body.
His tongue swept in, plundered, bringing with it the taste of whiskey, but she already felt intoxicated.
He explored her mouth. Claimed it.
He commanded her tongue with his. Each rub and twine sending a pulse of desire downward, obliterating any chance of her changing her mind, any chance of her coming to her senses and saying no to something she’d wanted for years, fantasized about so many times, the only man capable of replacing Cade in her erotic imaginings was Mace, and they’d often starred together.
She pressed more tightly to Cade. Ground against his erection, trembling and whimpering at the pleasure, the craving for more growing with each thrust of her hips, each fuck of his tongue into her mouth.
A little fear crept in. They’d only kissed and she already felt consumed.
Chapter Two
Pleasure shuddered through Cade. Fuck. Years of experience. More women than he could count. More sexual encounters than he could remember, and not even five minutes with Grace and he was in danger of shooting his load like some untried kid on his first go-round.
He used the silky fistful of hair to break the kiss, drawing her mouth away from his, nearly panting at the sight of her wet, swollen lips.
Fantasy exploded in his head, of dragging that sweet mouth downward, ordering her to free his cock, suck it.
Soon. But sure as hell not while they were standing with the front door open.
The only person who’d ever see that show was Mace.
If he comes to his fucking senses.
Ache blasted through Cade’s chest. He chased it away with the brush of his mouth against Grace’s, with shallow kisses, her soft whimper finally giving him the strength to separate.
“I need to deal with the door.”
She stepped away from him, eyes clouded by desire.
Satisfaction surged into him. Replaced by hard amusement when she crossed her arms over her breasts as if to shore up her defenses.
Too late, Grace. You’ve already let me in.
Pleasure still thrummed through his dick from the willing press of her body to his. One taste of her and his mouth needed to get back to hers for more.
He turned. Shut and locked the door. Frowned at seeing the lack of an alarm system. It was a safe enough neighborhood, but—
Doesn’t matter. She’ll be moving to our place.
A spasm went through his chest with the sudden realization that if Mace didn’t stop fighting this, our place would mean something totally different. And if that happened, if he and Grace set up house, if he had her all to himself for any length of time, there was a good chance he wouldn’t be able to share her, even with Mace.
Clock is ticking he silently warned his brother, turning away from the door, heat slamming into him at finding Grace sitting on the couch. This is the rest of my life.
She’d added another layer of defense. Instead of just arms crossed over breasts, she had one foot on the couch, a thigh hugged to her chest and her chin resting on her knee.
The combination of feminine wariness and heated need was just about lethal to his self-control. She wanted him. She wanted this.
He walked toward her, taking his time, tugging his shirt out of his pants, his cock throbbing with the parting of her lips, the heightened color in her face. If he collared her throat with his hand, he’d feel her pulse rabbiting against his palm, a part of her understanding just how life-changing this was going to be and maybe a little afraid of totally surrendering, of having a man in her life who took charge.
He wasn’t after ownership. Dungeons or equipment or an audience weren’t necessary for the relationship he wanted with her, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t absolutely belong to him.
Them.
Time would tell on that one, but tonight was his. Tonight she was his. All his.
His hands moved to the shirt buttons, sliding them free as he closed the distance.
Her gaze locked on his chest, her tongue darted out, wetting her upper lip and sending a rush of heat from his heart straight to his dick.
Little cat. Soon enough she’d figure out just what that did to him and start driving him crazy on purpose.
The shirt parted. Her gaze roved his chest, her pupils swallowing the blue in her eyes.
“Like what you see, Grace?”
“Yes.”
Her soft-voiced answer coiled around his dick, locked up his heart.
“Good.” Because he belonged to her now. What he wanted between them couldn’t happen on a one-way street.
He reached a chair done in the same flowery pattern as the couch and positioned with the back facing the front door, saw the source of the bark, a gray-faced black dachshund who’d gone back to sleep after sounding the alarm.
“Lyric’s doing?”
“Yes. That’s Perry.”
Cade dropped the shirt over the back of the chair. Suppressed the urge to pet the dog, not wanting to startle him out of his sleep. They could meet in the morning. It’d come soon enough.
Reaching Grace, he sat next to her, scooped her onto his lap, nearly moaning with the contact. Nearly shuddering with pleasure at the way she instantly freed the knee pressed to her chest, subtly inviting his touch, opening herself, demonstrating her trust.
He pulled the hair away from her neck, touched his mouth to the exposed skin.
She trembled against his lips. Trembled harder when he pushed his hand beneath the 49ers sweatshirt, sliding it upward without encountering the barrier of a bra.
She whimpered, whispered his name, heightening the fever inside him to touch every inch of her, to see every inch, taste every inch—to make sure she knew every inch belonged to him.
He had it bad. He’d always had it bad for her.
He’d fought it at first because she was too young, too innocent, too damn soft for what he wanted from a woman, needed—and there’d been his friendship with Michael, with the other members of her family—but now there was no fighting the desire, no denying it.
“Grace,” he murmured, tasting her skin, inhaling her scent, fresh and flowery, like a meadow in springtime.
His saying her name sent a shiver through her, caused her upper body to turn toward him by degrees, as if he was becoming her personal sun, the center of her world.
He damn well better be. Though at the moment he was still willing to share that place in her life with Mace.
“Are you wet for me, Grace?”
A harder shiver rippled through her.
“Yes,” she whispered.
He grasped her nipple, her whimper inflaming him with the need to hear more of them. She was so responsive, so inherently submissive.
His mouth firmed against her throat. Go easy. Don’t scare her.
It was hard to hold back when he had a driving need to make her writhe and beg for more.
He squeezed her nipple. Tugged and twisted. Learning her body, learning what she needed, what she liked.
“Cade,” she moaned, and his cock throbbed for her. His entire body ached to feel her softness beneath it.
His lips left her vulnerable throat, going to her ear, his tongue fucking into it.
A shudder went through her. She turned the rest of the way into him, her mouth seeking his with heated, desperate hunger.
An answering need raged in him. To have her. To hear her say she belonged to him.
His hand gripped her hair while the other worked her nipple, tugs matched to the thrust of his tongue against hers, the heat between them building as she squirmed on his lap until he was the one close to begging for mercy.
Breathing fast and hard, he ended the kiss. Grasped desperately for control. “Get rid of the sweats, Grace.”
Grace jolted, electrified by Cade’s order, wickedly thrilled by it. Absolutely turned on by it.
She’d suspected this about herself but she’d always picked tame boyfriends, men who would never be considered alphas. Men totally unlike Cade or Mace.
“Don’t make me tell you again, Grace.”
Erotic lightning whipped through her at the sensual threat in his voice, the promise of punishment.
Why did she want this so much? Crave it?
It didn’t matter. It was just the way she was wired.
It was how she’d always imagined it would be with Cade or Mace. It was something she needed to experience.
She just had to remember Cade didn’t do permanent. He only did pleasure.
Expecting it to be more would only lead to heartbreak. Truth, she was probably heading to heartbreak anyway. But better to experience that than to never experience this.
She slid from his lap, his tight expression and even tighter jeans making her feel powerful, more feminine than wearing fuck-me heels and a lust-inspiring outfit in a room full of other men.
Because she was wearing panties, her hands went to her waist first, slowly pushing the sweats downward to her thighs.
They dropped to the floor, Cade’s gaze following them only to snap back to wispy panties that were little more than delicate strips of pink lace and two small triangles.
His desire was a scorching flame meant to burn away the material covering her mound.
She shivered with the need to show herself to him, with the erotic fear he wouldn’t like having her bare, her pussy waxed smooth.
She’d done it after a poker game where both Lyric and Calista lost side bets and had to share something sexual, something the men in their lives went crazy with lust because of, something she’d fantasized would have the same effect on Mace and Cade.
Instead of peeling the panties down, she ran her fingers along her stomach above the waistband, nervously slipping them beneath the material.
A muscle spasmed in Cade’s cheek. His eyes darkened. “You don’t want to play with me that way, sweetheart.”
The endearment was a fist around her heart, a squeeze of hope and pain. She wanted to be his sweetheart, had thrilled the few times he’d called her that in the past because she’d never heard him call Jordyn or Lyric or Cady or Erin, or any of her other female relatives sweetheart. But maybe that’s what he called all his lovers, and he’d always known she’d be one of them.
Don’t think about it. It doesn’t matter.
She could decide tomorrow if she dared to experience more with Cade.
She abandoned the waistband of her panties, caught the edge of the sweatshirt, pulling upward, peeling it off and dropping it so she stood in only the panties.
Color highlighted Cade’s cheekbones. His hands were balled, as if to keep himself from reaching out, stripping the panties away or hauling her forward to spank for not quickly obeying.
The prospect of either lit her up, soaking her panties with arousal so that much longer and it would be visible on the insides of her thighs.
“The rest of it, Grace.”
The heat in her abdomen coiled and twisted and radiated. She stepped closer, testing his control, testing herself.
Was she really going to do this?
Yes.
Yes.
Trembling, she pushed the panties down, baring herself to Cade.
“Fuck.”
The word sounded ripped from him. It slammed into her an instant before his hands were on her hips, jerking her forward. And then his lips were on her sex, hot and feverish so all she could think of was wanting more, needing more.
She gripped his hair, using the dark strands as an anchor so she could tilt her hips and part her thighs, press against his face for a more intimate kiss.
He moaned. Raw and guttural. He licked the seam of her lower lips, delved into her with the thrust of his tongue.
Pleasure engulfed her, beyond any she’d ever experienced, beyond any she’d imagined was possible. She’d always known that’s what it would be like with Cade.
She rocked against him in ecstasy, her entire body pulsing with it. Only her hands in his hair and his at her waist kept her upright.
He zeroed in on her clit. Stroking. Sucking.
She moaned. Whimpered. Closed her eyes and tilted her head backward. Felt the climax building.
His hands slid around, hot and possessive on her ass, locking her more tightly against his face. She wanted him to swallow her sex whole. She wanted to give him everything.
She thrust against him, as if she could drive her clit to the back of his throat. Each jerk of her hips was accompanied by the call of his name. Demanding. Pleading. Revealing.
She didn’t care. Couldn’t as orgasm burst through her, glorious pleasure with a name. “Cade.”
She shook in the aftermath, felt vulnerable at what her voice might have revealed, that in her dreams this was love and he was forever.
He pulled her onto his lap.
Immediately, instinctively she cuddled against him, lifted her face. She welcomed his mouth covering hers with a moan, the carnality at finding the taste of herself on his lips and tongue roused the hunger for a deeper connection, for the joining of their bodies.
He fed the desire with the sweep of his hands, dominant, possessive touches that had her rubbing and pressing her breasts to his naked chest, giving him soft sounds of need.
Cade felt like he was on fire. She was fucking killing him. He never should have ordered her to strip, never should have tested his control that way, not with her, not this first time together, when he’d intended to
take it slow and easy.
Hell, he’d even been willing to endure a lot of conversation first, easing her into this. But then she’d stood in the doorway, looking so beautiful, offering a subtle challenge by not immediately inviting him in.
He’d been a goner. And now, it was too late to go back and refashion a beginning.
Cade stood with her in his arms, carried her into the bedroom, toed off his shoes then lowered her onto the mattress. He braced his hands on either side of her because he couldn’t force his mouth off hers.
He swallowed the little moans she made, was already addicted to her whimpers. He reveled in the softness of her lips, the slide of her tongue, the way she yielded, begging him to take charge.
There was a hint of cinnamon in her mouth, as if not too long before his arrival, she’d had one of the fireballs she still loved. He sought out the flavor, his cock screaming for mercy when she caught his tongue, sucked on it the way she did her candy.
He pulled back, straightened, hands going to his waistband.
Her eyes followed.
He undid his jeans and shoved them off along with the boxer briefs, masculine pride swelling at the slight widening of her eyes. Yeah, this is what you’re going to get, Grace. This is all yours now.
Her tongue darted out. His cock pulled away from his abdomen.
“Keep that up and you’ll get exactly what you’re asking for.”
Lie.
He couldn’t trust his dick anywhere near her mouth. He didn’t want to come that way, not the first time.
“I’m not afraid of doing that for you.”
“With you,” he growled, there was a fucking distinction, at least when it came to her.
He ended the argument by lying on top of her. Had to close his eyes as his entire body screamed in triumph at the feel of her soft skin and feminine curves.
He could come just rubbing against her. One of these times he’d do just that, mark her in a totally primitive way. But right now his cock throbbed with the desire to get inside her, to experience the wet heat and tight clasp of her pussy the same way his tongue had.
