by Amanda Rose
“Do you always watch people so intensely … because it's kind of distracting.”
He smiles at me then slowly shakes his head no.
Just you, he says with his body language.
How can someone say so much without saying anything at all? I laugh nervously at his response. God, I'm embarrassing myself. I switch into business mode as my only form of defense against my attraction.
“Maybe I should take this time to go over my thoughts on the Christmas eve party?”
He shakes his head no again, this time just as suggestively as last time. I hope I'm not going to spend the next couple of weeks in a state of perpetual arousal.
“Um. What should I talk about?” I ask. He shrugs his shoulders.
I start rambling in an attempt to fill the silence. He lets me just go on and on. He listens attentively, occasionally acknowledging my jokes and stories with a smile or a nod of his head. His attentiveness is a real turn-on. Never once does he look bored or disinterested—quite the contrary. He silently watches me as though there's nothing more fascinating in the entire world. The longer he does it, the faster my heart seems to beat.
At some point, he closes the distance between us and reaches up, trailing his fingertips along my chin.
“I—” I try to pull my face away in embarrassment. Whit catches my chin with his fingertips, tilting my face towards him. The dark depths of his eyes take in every inch of my face as though he is searching for something. My lips gently part. He runs his thumb over my bottom lip and I swear, I have never felt anything so subtle yet so arousing. The connection I feel with him—any of them—is too strong to be real. Passion this explosive doesn't exist outside of books and movies.
I lean forward; this is all the invitation he needs.
Whit wraps his strong arms around me, pulling me onto his lap so that I am straddling him. I can feel the harness of his shaft through the luxurious fabric of his perfectly tailored slacks. He doesn't hold me there though—at least not physically. His commanding presence and the almost palpable desire in the air tell me to stay put. The force of authority in his gaze is almost a tangible thing. Powerless to resist, I stay. Maybe if I give into this, slake my thirst here and now, my loins will stop controlling my actions.
I relax against his firm chest. Time slows, trapping us in a universe of our own. I know that it is a mistake, that I shouldn't do it. Have sex with Whittaker. But it just feels so damn good.
His hands have found their way under my dress and are possessively squeezing my hips. Without thinking, I reach up and run my fingers through his hair. It's so soft. He releases my hip and cups the back of my neck, guiding my face to his. His kiss is sweet but forceful. I close my eyes, letting him take control. My ardor reaches new heights. I try to increase the tempo of the kiss, but he doesn't let me. His kisses instead grow slower, deeper. Leisurely, he memorizes the taste of my mouth on his and I love every second of it. I rock my hips against the hardness in his pants.
All of a sudden, something has changed. The mood shifts and everywhere he touches sets my skin aflame. My body is now in feverish state of lust. Why can't I resist him? A fervor takes over and his kisses get greedier, more desperate. I moan and writhe in response.
Suddenly but gracefully, Whit flips us over and drops us to the floor. I'm on my back and he is above me, panting heavily. Every muscle in is body is tensed and his eyes are open wide, staring at my shock at his actions. Like he isn't used to getting so riled up. Of losing control. My damp is skin is hypersensitive. Raw. Alive. Hovering above, me he reaches down and starts unbuttoning his pants. My whole body throbs with need, responds to him. Panting, I can do nothing but lie there pliant and wanting.
Briefly, my mind flickers to thoughts of birth control and protection … Thank god I have an IUD.
“Have you been tested?” I ask, my voice breathy and weak with desire. “I'm clean, but …” I trail off as he shakes his head yes. I know I should ask for more, a condom or test results, but … I'm swept up in a wave of passion and ardor. I'm not thinking clearly. How can I? With a man as beautiful as this above me.
The hunger in his eyes is insatiable. The moment can't seem to come fast enough—for either of us. He doesn't hesitate. Whit gets in position and in one swift motion, he pushes the delicate lace of my panties aside and thrusts the length of his hard shaft deep inside my tight pussy. I scream, but I spread my legs wider, giving his powerful hips room to settle against me. He is so large, it takes my body several moments to adjust. He can tell the size of his cock is almost too much for me. Holding completely still, he waits for me to relax. My entire body quivers with unrestrained pleasure and I can hardly breathe. I want him to move so badly I could scream.
I can't speak, so I give him the slightest of nods. He adjusts our position slightly, giving himself better access. Whit starts slow and fluid, but I can tell it's for me. There is a primal, wild spark in his eyes. The look he gives me is so feral. And hungry. He wants to go fast and hard and deep, but he doesn't let the frenzy take over. A lesser man would have lost control under the flood of violent unrelenting need. But Whittaker, he keeps a steady pace through sheer strength will. My sex can't seem to get enough.
With each thrust, Whit stimulates the most sensitive places of my molten core and rubs my swollen clit at the same time. The insistent pulse of unbearable desire reaches unimagined heights. Fucking him is pure ecstasy.
My moans change to screams and after only a few minutes under his practiced hips, I can feel the white-hot pressure of release in the most mind-blowing orgasm I've ever had. Whittaker doesn't finish inside; instead he pulls out and sits back, looking down at me like the cat that got the cream. His exposed shaft slick with my juices. I sit up and reach for it. But he stops me by sliding his hand behind my neck and lowering his mouth to my own. This kiss is anything but gentle or controlled. His lips crash into mine, like he's channeling all of his want into me. The kiss is violent, possessive and decadently rough, leaving my swollen lips bruised and tender.
He pulls back and shakes his head no. The wicked smirk says it all. He's teasing me, making me desperate for another taste. And the worst part is I want it. I crave seeing the look of pleasure on his face as he spills himself inside me. With that, he tucks his cock back inside his slacks and helps me off the floor and back onto the seat next to him. As we pull to a stop, one question runs through my mind.
Now that I've felt the pleasure of his magnificent body in mine how will anyone ever measure up ever again?
Neither Jack nor Hudson mention my swollen lips or mussy hair when they get in the limo. Thank god for small miracles, I guess. I think I might have died of embarrassment if they had. I just did something I never thought I would ever do. I fucked a guy I don't even really know on the floor of a limousine. Wait till Lucia hears about this.
Whit has his hand possessively resting on my knee and both Jack's and Hudson’s eyes keep flicking to it. I push his hand off and scoot down the seat, putting some distance between me and Whittaker. He smiles and raises his eyebrows at me, but makes no move to close the distance. I try to ignore the smug look of satisfaction he throws my way. He signs something to the other guys, and Hudson coughs.
“Did you really just fuck Whit on the floor?” he asks with a laugh. My cheeks turn bright red and I drop my face to my hands. I leave them there and shake my head yes. I can't look up. I don't want to see their faces. I feel a warm hand rubbing my back in circles. Jack's tobacco and peppermint scent surrounds me.
“What's wrong? Is he that bad?” Jack asks, a flirty smile on his face. The question makes me laugh. I'm still blushing, but I look up at him.
“No. It was great. I just haven't seen two different guys … you know in one day before,” I blurt out. It's Hudson's turn to laugh.
“You can do better than that Natalie. Say it. Say cock,” he says, voice dripping with flirtation, the hard K sound snapping off his tongue in an oh so sexy way.
“I can't; it's embarrassi
ng,” I say back. I can feel all three sets of eyes watching me intently.
“If you say it, I'll change the subject,” he says, letting all that bad boy swagger into his words. I wish it weren't a turn-on but it is. How is it possible for me to still get aroused after I literally just had one of the best orgasms of my life? “Well, we are all waiting with bated breath for that dirty little word to come out of your sexy red lips. Or do we need to keep talking about your little romp with Whit—” I cut him off before he can say another word.
“Cock. There I said it, now change the subject.” I blurt it out as fast as I can so that he will shut up about me and Whittaker. Jack snorts, shaking his head like this whole conversation is silly.
“Oh, damn. Now that I've heard cock come out of your mouth I'd really like to see it go in.” Hudson's caramel eyes are half-lidded and he is wearing the cockiest grin I have ever seen on a man. It is so annoying that I forget that I was embarrassed.
“I doubt you were clever enough to think of that off the top of you head. How long have you been planning to say that?” I raise an eyebrow. “Now I know the real reason you wanted me to say cock so badly,” I say haughtily. I look at Jack and Whittaker; they both seem content to just watch us bicker back and forth.
“I got you to say it again, didn't I?” he asks, the look on his face getting even more smug than it was before. His mouth turns up in a sinful smirk, scorchingly beautiful but still playful. God, I just want to slap that stupid grin off his face.
“Seeing as you have the only cock in this car I haven’t seen today, maybe you're just jealous?” I'm getting more irritated by the second.
“That's just a technicality, seeing my hand was on your cunt a few short hours ago.” His voice drops and a shiver goes down my spine. My whole face flushes with frustration. How does this a-hole have a witty comeback for everything I say? Lucky for me, Jack cuts us off. He scoops me up and sets me on his lap, slanting his lips over mine. He massages my tongue with his own. Though taken by surprise, I kiss him right back. The kiss is short, sweet and vigorous. When he pulls away, I am left breathless.
“I have been wanting to do that for hours,” Jack says, and my heart flutters at his kind words. It would be so easy to fall for a guy like Jack because he's so sweet. But I need to remember in the end, guys like Jack don't marry regular girls like me. He's now got a cocky grin of his own. But he isn't looking at me, he's looking at his brother. Hudson is still smiling but there is something just a little forced about it. If I can't knock that smug grin off his face, at least someone else can. And that thought makes me smile.
“When we get to Gabriel's, would it be okay if I have a moment alone with him? I really owe him an apology,” I ask Jack. His face softens.
“Honey, Gabe isn't coming to dinner with us,” he says gently.
“Wait. He's not? Is this because of what I said this morning?” I look between the three decadently sexy men. Surprisingly, it's Whit who answers me with a nod of his head. Yes.
Wow. I really fucked up.
“He thinks it's best if the two of you keep your distance until Christmas eve,” Jack tells me.
“No. He's coming to dinner whether he wants to or not. This is a waste of all of our time if he and I aren't a convincing couple,” I say, proud my voice comes out sharp and clear. I don't know why Gabriel not coming bugs me so much; it just does. He's such a jerk, you'd think I would be glad. But I'm not.
“I'd like to see you tell him that,” Hudson says with a snort. Whit looks both surprised and pleased by reaction.
“Watch me,” I say, crossing my arms over my chest.
Gabriel's house couldn't be any different from Jack's grand old Victorian. A huge modern structure of glass and steel, high on a hill overlooking the city. The place just oozes wealth. Even though it isn't my style, I have to admit that architecturally speaking, it's stunning. I make the three men stay in the car, wanting a moment alone to give Gabriel my apology. Surprisingly, no one presses the issue.
I ring the doorbell but don't get an answer. He's probably ignoring me on purpose. Faintly, I can hear Christmas music playing from the backyard. I know that I should probably just call it quits now and go to dinner without him. I turn around, fully intending to do just that, but the broken look on his face flashes in my mind. I'll just pop around back and apologize and let him know if he wants me to pretend be his fiancée, he has to come to dinner. Sounds easy enough, right?
I follow the sound of piano along the side of the house. As I get closer, I start to recognize it. It's Carol of the Bells—literally my favorite Christmas song of all time. I come around the house and am rewarded with a full wall of glass. The back door is open and the beautiful melody is drifting into the cold night air. But the sound of the music is nothing compared to Gabriel's masculine splendor. His white button up is completely undone and his sleeves are rolled up, exposing the chiseled lines of his hard chest.
I didn't think it was even possible, but Gabe looks even sexier without the uptight three-piece suit. His eyes are closed and he is gently swaying. It's mesmerizing, watching him play the quick tempo with such mastery, each note like the chime of a bell. I stare transfixed at his tortured beauty. I don't know if I have ever seen anything so moving in my entire life. How did I not see it before? The sad boy hiding behind the anger and cruelty. I can't move or look away, hypnotized like a spell has been cast.
As the song reaches its end, I struggle to hold back tears.
He finishes the final note, opening his stormy eyes. I will never forget the look in them when he lifts his lids, not expecting anyone to be watching. Sadness and pain held only in check by the indomitable spirit of the most agonizingly wicked man on earth. They see me and widen with shock. Then anger. He stands up, ire radiating from him.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” he snaps, practically growling the word you. His long legs close the distance between us in a matter of seconds. Grabbing my arm violently, he holds me in place. The cold cruelty is gone, replaced with the searing heat of his rage. “How did you get here?” he grinds out through gritted teeth, but his firm grip on my arm doesn't lessen. He is beyond angry, being caught in such a vulnerable position.
“I came … I'm sorry,” I manage to stutter out. The night feels so still and quiet without the sound of music. The words shock him and he drops my arm like it's on fire. He clenches his jaw and glares daggers from his cold gray eyes.
“Apology not accepted. Now get off my fucking property,” he says in a voice like ice. His tone makes me so angry. I know his anger is a defense mechanism, but that doesn't make it okay. I came here to apologize for my cruel words, but it doesn't mean I'm going to let this jerk treat me like crap.
“No. Get ready; we are going to dinner,” I say, grabbing his arm before he can walk away. The flash of fury through his eyes is so intense I should be scared. But I’m just not. He jerks his arm from my grip.
“Get off my property …” His voice drops, getting deeper and more masculine. Primal. He grabs both my arms and pulls me to his chest. “Unless you are interested in going all the way.”
An involuntary shiver of excitement travels down my entire body and goose bumps break out on my skin. He's trying to scare me away, but it wont work. He's going to have to do better than that.
“Get dressed,” I repeat, ignoring the flush of arousal coursing through my body. His jaw clenches and his silver eyes glare down at me. I can see the muscles in his arms tighten at my words, but despite his rage, his hands don't ever squeeze hard enough to to hurt me.
“This is your warning. If you don't leave by the count of three, I'm going to fuck you. And I can get a little …” He lowers his face towards mine, but he doesn't kiss me. His lips hover just above my own. “Rough.” His gray eyes stare into my blue ones, examining them like they he's looking past the physical to the deepest, most secret parts of me. The only sound in the cold December air is the hushed gasp of our breathing and the pounding of my racing heart.
I look right back and for a moment, I can see the wounds of his dark past dancing behind the asshole facade. But in a flash, it's gone and he lets the shield of cruelty fall back in place.
“One. I'm serious.” His voice darkens with need. Every molecule on his body is coiled, ready to strike. Predatory.
“I'm not leaving without you,” I say, not realizing the hidden meanings behind the phrase. My words fuel the attraction between us. He licks his lips, the motion dripping with a ferine ferocity.
“Two. This is your last chance to get away.” His deep voice is barely a whisper, crushed under the enormous weight of almost tangible desire. His grip on my arms tightens in anticipation. And his breathing gets heavier. Faster. The lust in the air is palpable. He might be the biggest asshole I have ever met, but I want him with a craving so all-consuming it hurts.
When he sees I intend on staying, a delightfully vicious smirk crawls across his face.
“Three.” With a growl, he scoops me up bride style. He carries me like I'm weightless through the glass doors towards what I presume is his bedroom. I see the piano and the need hits me like a ton of bricks. I have to have him inside of me now.
“Piano,” I manage to gasp breathlessly. Without a word, he sets me down. I wobble somewhat precariously. I don't have to stand there for long though. He violently shoves the bench out of our way, sending it flying several feet across the room.
Gabe spins me around and shoves me over the keys of the black Steinway, kicking my legs apart. Pushing my dress up, he grabs one side of the delicate lace panties and tears them. The intact side slides down my leg and rests on my high-heeled foot. He grabs my hair roughly. I moan and arch my back, giving him better access. My exposed sex is throbbing with a desperation I have never before felt. Then he is just there, the hardness of his shaft probing the wetness of my opening.
