by Kim Karr
He smiles at me. A man accustomed to being watched and no doubt used to getting his way. In me, though, he’s met his match, and I wait a heartbeat or two to answer him.
When I can’t take another minute without his mouth on mine, I nip at his lip and tell him, “I have a room here.”
Fast as sin, he grabs my hand and leads me through the crowd.
And the whole time, all I can think about is how I really like the feel of his hand in mine. Too bad he lives on one end of the country and I live on the other.
Everyone knows long-distance relationships never last.
Right?
Maggie
There are socially acceptable behaviors for almost everything we do, and not so socially acceptable behaviors too.
For example, we all know that you don’t eat in a bank. You don’t talk in a library. And you don’t kiss in an elevator—unless you can’t take one more minute without the other person’s hot lips on yours, the feel of his hands all over you, or if the press of his body is something you can’t live without for another second.
Then you kiss in the elevator.
And I’m so going to kiss him.
The air crackles as Keen approaches me. He crosses from the right to the left, where passengers who have finally all exited the elevator had pushed me upon their entry. Separating us. Causing a pull neither of us can deny.
The walls inside are covered in mirrors, just like in the club, and I watch him from all angles as he pounces like a predator on the prowl. And then he is standing in front of me looking like he wants to devour me, and his hands are on me, and I swear I can’t find the air to breathe.
He’s possessive.
Greedy.
Dominating.
His fingertips trail over the middle of my thighs as he moves in between my legs and bends to brush his lips near my ear. “Kiss me,” he breathes, hot and heavy.
Control is a thing I always have—in my life, and with men. I say when, where, and how. I don’t succumb to orders, from anyone.
So I don’t know if it’s the fact that I’m buzzed, or that this man is some kind of crazy aphrodisiac, but I don’t give a damn about control right now.
Almost ferociously, I grab hold of his face and pull him to me so I can crash my lips to his hungry mouth. And then he takes over. Moving his lips, thrusting his tongue, and demanding all I have to give.
Soon the kiss is out of control—wild and hurried and frantic.
Pressing me against the elevator wall, his heat seeps through my body, but I shiver nonetheless when his hands slip under the hem of my dress.
Roaming, his fingers drift around to my bare ass, my thong providing absolutely no coverage over my cheeks. “Oh, fuck.” Keen sucks in a breath when he feels the naked skin of my ass, and his hands continue to roam even more hurriedly. Up. Down. Like he can’t get enough of me, fast enough.
Running.
Soothing.
Pressing.
Owning.
Thrilled by his physical reaction to my body, I bask in the feel of his rough, callused hands all over me. After lifeguarding, the one thing I know about myself for certain is that I am in good shape—no, not only good shape, great shape.
His free hand is around my neck and holding me in place. And the feel is so thrilling I can’t figure out where to put my hands on his body first, so I let him dominate me.
Soon, though, I find myself wanting to feel his skin equally as much as he wants to feel mine. To satisfy my need, I tug his shirt from the confines of his pants and try to push him back so I can run my hands up the smooth muscles of his chest.
Letting me push him only so far, Keen stops us in the middle of the elevator, looks at me with those blue eyes that have grown so dark, and then takes one of my hands and places it on the bulge of his erection.
I gasp in excitement at his alpha power play. I find it to be a thrill and a rush.
His terms.
I may explore his body on his terms.
I get it.
And I will go along with his rules—for now.
Slowly, he presses my hand more firmly against him and then he leans forward to speak into my ear. “Feel what you do to me? And we’re not even in your room yet.”
Right then I’m not sure I can stand on my own—my knees go weak and I swear the earth moves under my feet. I close my eyes and curve my hand over him. His pants are smooth under my fingers and beneath them I can most definitely feel his erection. I gasp again as he grows harder, hotter, beneath my touch.
His hand goes around to my neck and it tightens. “Do you, Maggie? Do you feel how much I want you?”
With a nod, I trace the outline of his huge cock.
Yes. Yes. Yes, I feel it.
The door dings open before I can come up with a suitable reply, other than heavy breathing and nodding, that is. Keen straightens, pulling me behind him immediately until he has a chance to make certain we are alone. Doesn’t want others to see me undone, I guess.
Luckily, no one is in sight.
With our lips attached, we make our way down the hall. He stops to push me up against the wall and feel my breasts. I pause to pull him to me so I can finally run my hands over every ripple and hard muscle of his torso.
All this pushing and pulling makes it take at least three times too long to get to my room, but it is so worth it.
At the door, I fumble for my card key in my purse.
His hand makes its way inside the top of my dress and he starts to thumb my nipple. “I love that you don’t have a bra on.”
Searching for my damn key still, I am momentarily distracted by the beat, beat, skip of my heart.
Oh God, now his teeth are grazing my skin where he’s pushed my hair aside and his other hand is resting on my hip.
Searching is futile because this is my heart—Skip. Beat. Beat. Beat. Skip. Beat. Beat. Beat. Skip.
His mouth is just above my shoulder and he’s sucking my skin between his teeth, the tip of his tongue circling against it. His one hand is still on my breast and now the other has slid from my hip to between my legs.
I need to search harder, and I do. More frantically even. My fingers are trembling, but finally I feel the slick plastic under my fingertips. “Here it is,” I say, holding it up.
Keen’s hands are off me and he snatches it right up. Probably better, because he makes fast time of swiping it. The light turns green and the door unlocks.
In this one fleeting moment, a thought passes through my mind. I know lust. I know desire. I know arousal. What I don’t know is what else this is between us. All three, or something completely different?
It’s just a momentary thought that eases from my mind the minute the door swings open and we push through it without moving apart.
We’re already past the hallway and in the room before the door clicks shut. And our hands are everywhere even faster.
An air of desperation weaves its way between us and he pushes me up against the wall to cage me in with his strong body, and then his body is up against mine. Dropping his head, his mouth is on my chest, just above the fabric of my dress, and he’s sucking hard, hard enough to leave his mark, and I don’t care.
Friction.
Hard.
Soft.
Delicious.
When he works his lips up my chest, he stops at my neck and bites a little harder. I cry out in sheer pleasure.
The hiss I get in response isn’t to be missed, and it’s then that he tilts my chin to look at him, to meet those blazing blue eyes. “I don’t know if you are an angel or the devil, but you’re too goddamn sexy for words.”
I turn my head to bring my mouth close to his ear. “Why don’t you find out?”
The movement happens so fast. One second I’m on the ground, the next I’m in his arms, wrapping my legs around him, pressing my chest to his, and then my feet are back on the ground and standing in front of the bed.
“I can’t wait another minute, Maggie. I need
to be inside you right now.” His voice has grown thick with so much desire I swear it’s oozing sex.
Maggie. My name on his lips makes my stomach jump nervously.
His hands move so fast. One second the spaghetti straps to my stretchy camisole dress are up on my shoulders, the next they’re down, and his hands are on my breasts for the shortest of moments, as if he just needed a little touch.
And then my dress is off, and Keen is hissing in my ear and cursing that one delicious word over and over. As I rip his shirt buttons open in haste, I hear one spring against the wall.
Oh well.
Rapidly, I move to his belt. He doesn’t stop me. He’s too busy running his hands down the sides of my body and back up. Undoing his belt, I shove his pants and boxers down at the same time.
By the time I step out of my dress already pooled at my feet, undo my damn booties and take them off, and then slide my panties down, he’s already toed his shoes off, removed his pants and boxers, and tossed a condom on the bed.
I look up just in time to see him standing tall, to see his body revealed to me. Blinded by the perfection, I make a small, helpless noise of appreciation. I can’t stop myself. Everything about him is just so beautiful. His skin is smooth, his body void of any hair everywhere from the neck down, and I mean everywhere. And his delicious cock is thick, long, and very ready.
Everything moves so fast once again. His hands are on my hips and he’s pulling me against him as his mouth finds my throat. “Once I fuck you, then I’m going to explore every part of this gorgeous body and taste every inch of you.”
Gasping without words once again, all I can think is I am good with that.
Licking up my neck, his mouth fuses to mine and we fall to the bed in a tumble.
Caught in the net of passion and web of desire, the only thing that matters is what is about to come.
Body to body.
Skin to skin.
Heartbeat to heartbeat.
Never losing our connection, Keen effortlessly manages to move our bodies to the head of the bed. Once I’m resting on one of the pillows, he rears back and looks down at me.
The predator on the prowl.
Competent.
Strong.
Ready.
Without thought, I reach down to touch him, feel him, but he’s already twisted around and is expertly ripping open the condom package and stroking the latex down to his base.
Reaching for him once again, I am ready to fuse more than our mouths.
Fast as sin, he captures both of my wrists with his hands and pushes my arms over my head. My fingers curl over the headboard as I gaze into his eyes. Even though I am not accustomed to men selecting sexual positions for me, I hold on.
Like lightning, he strikes and positions himself on top of me. Once there he uses his arms to keep from crushing me. Like this, his cock nudges me, and oh God, I feel tiny tremors all through my body.
So ready for this, I part my legs for him and tilt my hips to allow him entrance. He rubs his tip over my pussy, pushing in a little before lowering onto his forearms and reaching between us to guide himself inside me.
I moan when he’s all the way in, and he does too. Louder, with a sound more ferocious than I’ve ever heard from any man.
His thrusts are deep, quick, and feel so good. He moves. I move. The rhythm is automatic. It is as if we know each other’s body, when clearly we do not. Yet, there is no fumbling or guessing. Just two puzzle pieces that fit perfectly.
He fucks me fast, and then faster still. Slow is not on the table right now. When he pushes up onto his hands to drive his cock deeper, I open wider, and wider still until I’m wrapping my feet around him, all the while my hands continuing to grip the headboard.
He said he wanted to fuck me, and that is exactly what he is doing.
Moving.
Moving.
Moving.
In the spirit of adjusting to make each thrust better than the last, he slides his hands beneath my ass to tilt me against him. And God, the delicious friction has my body climbing higher and higher and higher still.
Giving.
Taking.
His eyes never leave mine, not even when he readjusts our position again, this time to slide a hand between us to stroke my clit in time with his thrusts.
That’s when I really start to tip into the swirling oblivion of orgasm and I can’t hold onto the bed any longer. Letting go, I rake my nails down his back, not quite hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to leave my mark.
Words are said by him. By me. I don’t know what or who. All I know is I’m on the edge, higher than I have ever been. Insane pleasure whipping through my body, it’s practically animalistic in nature.
It’s like we’re moving in the most feral way.
Harder.
Faster.
More desperately.
Losing myself in sweet nothingness, I feel the pleasure wash through me in shimmering rays of color, and then I’m coming in long, rippling waves, calling out his name, and God only knows what else.
“Keep your eyes open,” he grunts through gritted teeth.
Trembling from head to toe, I open my eyes. I hadn’t realized I’d closed them. As soon as I see his face, his come face, I start to unravel all over again, riding those waves for as long as they’ll carry me.
Keen shudders and his impending climax strikes. I watch everything about him: the strain on his face, the lowering of his brows, the way his eyes first squint and then practically roll back in his head, the way his mouth parts in a perfect O to let out his groan.
Once his climax has left its mark, instead of rolling off me, his arms slide beneath me and he clutches me tight. The warmth of this bed is like a blanket that I don’t want to take off. And when he burrows his face harder into my skin, I press my head against him to feel even more. When I do, he just holds me and holds me.
Soon, though, maybe too soon, he pushes himself off me to roll to the side with one arm and leg thrown over my body. “Holy fuck,” he says, his voice gravelly, sex-stained.
“Yeah, holy fuck is right.”
Almost giddy, we smile and look into each other’s eyes, probably both reliving what just took place.
It was intense.
Raw.
Real.
Insanely hot.
Once both of our breathing is almost back to normal, Keen moves to get rid of the condom in a nearby trash can and then resumes his position right beside me.
I turn my body a little more. “So, angel or devil?” I ask.
His hand is moving lazily up and down my side in smooth, flat strokes, and he pauses to look over his shoulder, then turns back with a grin. “By the blood dripping down my back, I wouldn’t say angel, and devil is pushing it. I’m going with bedwrecker, just like the song says.”
A little thrilled by his name for me, I can’t even address that until the issue of bodily harm is cleared up. I make a low noise of disbelief. “I did not scratch deep enough to cut open your skin.”
“You most certainly did.” He twists to turn the light on and show me. Sure enough, there are deep scratches there.
I sit up with the intention of jumping up and grabbing him a washcloth. “Oh, my God, I did that?”
The wicked grin on his face tells me he likes it.
Tits out, I give him a seductive stare. “You should come in the shower and let me clean you. Oh, I mean the cut, that is.”
Turning back, he grabs me just as I swing my legs off the bed. Capturing me, he pulls me down and holds me in place. “Only if we can play nurse/doctor.”
Trying, but not super hard, to squirm out of his hold, I have to laugh. “As a matter of fact, I have an excellent bedside manner.”
His mouth finds my ear. “That’s great to hear, my little bedwrecker, because I’d like you to use that skill right now,” his lips trail down my neck, “by staying right here where you’re needed.”
“Shower,” I tell him as his lips clo
se around my nipple and I writhe beneath him.
“Later,” he tells me back, trailing his hot mouth down to my navel.
Oh, that feels too good.
“We have all night, nurse of mine,” he says, blowing against my clit. “First I have to taste you.”
Bucking at the contact, I certainly am not going to argue or tell him I planned on being the doctor.
I rise on my elbows. Keen on his belly on the bed is just about the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.
And soon his mouth is on my sex and I cry out when he kisses me there, right there, on the spot made to drive every woman wild.
Then he licks me, and moans, “Oh, fuck, you taste so good.”
It’s so strange, I feel like I am floating on a cloud. The buzz long gone, I’m high on this lust, this driving desire for more. For the short time we have together, I’m willing to be whatever he wants me to be.
Nurse.
Doctor.
Poker player.
Hell, craps shooter if that’s what he wants.
And yes, even his little bedwrecker . . .
If he insists.
Maggie
When a player puts all his or her chips in a pot, that player is said to be all in. In this case the chips are fish crackers from the minibar and we aren’t playing for money.
The sun is just coming up. “I’m going all in,” I announce.
He snorts lightly and drinks more juice. “You sure you want to do that?”
I lean forward in my towel, pushing all of my fishies to the center of the bed. “I am.”
Keen’s damp hair falls in genuine disarray over his forehead. “You do remember a full house beats two pairs, which beats three of a kind?”
“I do, smart-ass.” I stick my tongue out at him.
Yes, we’ve been at this for almost three hours, including breaks of course to pay up. And yes, he has won every hand, even though he is really trying to teach me. But you see, winning this hand is more than winning the sexual favors or shower privileges of the past hands. Not that I didn’t enjoy those fruits, even on the losing end. This is for the gold, the one who will make the first trip to see the other.
