The Best Next Thing

by Natasha Anders

  He wanted to hold her. Wrap his arms around her and cocoon her from the world. He wanted to kiss her, hug her, love her until all she could see and feel and taste was him. Until he could obliterate what that fucker had done to her from her memories. He would happily give up all his wealth to erase the pain she had suffered. Every bruise, broken bone, burn, bite…and whatever the fuck else that sadistic monster had done to her. He wanted it gone. He wanted to do that for her.

  But he couldn’t.

  And for the first time in a very long while, Miles felt helpless.

  She went rigid when she sensed him in the shadows. Terrified of what he would do. He walked toward her, a shadow figure…large, looming, and menacing. The closer he came, the less of him she could see. His face obscured by the bright light streaming from behind him.

  He spoke...

  “Charity.”

  …And the strength deserted her limbs. It took her forever to fall but his arms closed around her. Stopping the descent and saving her from harm.

  She stared up into that face but it remained obscured by the shadows. She could see only suggestions of shapes, the glint of his eyes, the curve of his mouth. And yet...

  This no longer felt menacing.

  She lifted a wondering hand to his lean cheek. “You’re here.”

  “Always.”

  His mouth met hers, and she sighed, welcoming the familiar taste of him. The kiss consumed her, inflamed her, awoke every sense, and she curved herself into his hard body. Wanting it. Wanting him.

  He lay her down, and suddenly he was on her, in her…thrusting, demanding, taking, and giving.

  She raced toward her climax. A little shocked by how fast this was happening.

  She was nearly there. On the verge…

  “Miles…”

  Charity woke with his name on her lips. She sat up with a gasp, her heart racing, her entire body humming. She was wet, aching, and empty.

  “Oh my God.”

  She covered her face and groaned.

  She had expected dreams after reliving her wedding night earlier. Expected to find Blaine haunting her nightmares, as he always did.

  Instead…she had found Miles. And safety.

  She flattened a hand against her chest, trying to ease the frantic fluttering of her heart. Her nipples were hard as coal, her femininity hot, wet, and swollen. Her nerve endings felt scraped by pure fire.

  She palmed a straining breast and thumbed her nipple and gasped at the sensation the light friction sent arrowing straight to her aching pussy.

  She cupped herself down there…then stroked.

  But it wasn’t enough.

  Stormy’s soft woof coerced Miles out of a restless sleep. He blinked into the darkness, disoriented, not sure why the dog had barked.

  Until he saw the dark shape hovering beside his bed. Despite the lack of light, he recognized the tall, slender figure instantly.

  “Charity?”

  She didn’t reply, but lifted the covers and slid into bed beside him. He sucked in a shocked breath when she curved herself around him, her cold, bare skin sending gooseflesh down his spine.

  She didn’t seem to be dressed in much, a tank top and panties, maybe. Or possibly a pair of very short shorts. He was near naked himself, wearing only a pair of low riding boxer briefs, and he was excruciatingly aware of every inch of her gorgeous body pressed up against his. But, despite all of that tempting lush flesh within stroking distance, he refused to allow his hands to go roaming.

  “What’s wrong?” his voice sounded croaky and still heavily dusted with sleep. “Did you have a nightmare, sweetheart?”

  She had squeezed herself into all his empty spaces, filling the gaps he hadn’t even known were there, with her body and her presence. Her chest to his chest, torso to torso, pelvis to pelvis, her long, silky legs were entwined with his…her mouth was so close he could taste her sweet breath on his tongue. The heat generated between their bodies was off the charts, but he wasn’t sure what she wanted of him. She had to know what this was doing to him.

  It was becoming increasingly hard to ignore the very large erection in the room. The one making its insistent, throbbing presence known, sandwiched as it was between his abdomen and hers.

  “Charity.” He didn’t know what he wanted to say, only that he needed to say it. “What—”

  Her mouth closed over his, cutting him off, leaving him in no doubt as to what she wanted. He groaned when her tongue flitted along the seam of his lips, eroding his self-control. Before he could open for her, he needed to know that she was really fine. That this wasn’t her seeking comfort after a nightmare.

  He reluctantly pulled his head back and opened his eyes. The only light in the room was spilling in from the hallway through the door that she had left ajar, and he could barely make out her features.

  “Are you sure you want this?”

  “Yes,” she moaned. “I want this. Please, Miles.”

  Her hand slid between their bodies and found his straining length. He hissed at the contact and arched into her touch.

  He claimed her lips with his own, inserting every ounce of passion and desire he felt for her into the caress. His tongue requested, and was permitted, entry into her soft, hot mouth and he groaned when her own tongue eagerly met his.

  He fisted her unbound hair, glorying in the silken slipperiness of it, and pulled her closer to deepen the kiss. He wanted her to feel his desperation, his yearning, and the absolute pleasure he was taking in being with her like this.

  His kiss was everything, it transported her higher than any of her thrill-seeking adventures had ever taken her, above the clouds and into the heavens. Charity was lost in it. Lost in his taste and scent…

  His hands had left her hair to explore the bare, sensitive skin of her upper arms and shoulders. A stroke here and a caress there. Not enough to be satisfying but just enough to tease, torment, and titillate. He eased her onto her back and settled between her spread thighs, his thick shaft, riding the furrow between her legs. He lifted his head, relinquishing her lips to peer down at her, the gloom making it hard to gauge what he was thinking.

  “Is this okay?” he asked gruffly.

  Charity reached around to grab his tight butt with both her hands and ground herself against his hard cock, wanting him to know exactly how okay it was. Wanting to reassure him—and her—that she wouldn’t react the same way she had last time they had found themselves in this same position. Eager for him to know that she trusted him, and that she loved having his weight on top of her.

  He groaned at the hot friction she generated between his shaft and her damp, eager womanhood.

  “You’re killing me,” he said, on a gasp of pure pleasure.

  “Only a little,” she promised him.

  He laughed huskily and dipped his head to trace his lips to the cove of her neck, unerringly finding all her most sensitive spots. It was as if he had a map of all her erogenous zones because he found, and lingered at, each and every one of them. Flipping switches, turning dials and adjusting signals, until he had her humming at exactly the right frequency.

  By the time he eventually got to her nipples, she was writhing in the best kind of agony, beyond ready to take that next step with him.

  But he had other plans. Plans that did not yet involve taking next steps…plans that meant he would linger at the crests of her breasts forever. He suckled, licked, nibbled, came perilously close to biting…but would not move on from there.

  “Oh please. Oh please, Miles. More. I need more.” Her words emerged on gasps as she fought for breath and writhed restlessly beneath him. She planted her feet on the mattress and unabashedly thrust against his hardness…eager for the column of flesh he was so selfishly withholding from her.

  “Soon, sweetheart…” he whispered. His hot breath washed over one tightly furled nipple and sensitized the flesh beyond bearing. “I promise.”

  No longer content with being the passive recipient of so much sensua
l torment, Charity decided to spur him into action by beginning her own erotic onslaught. She ran her hands over his back and chest, testing the firmness of those muscles beneath all that gloriously smooth skin. He was stronger than the last time they had been together like this. But it didn’t frighten her. Because she knew that he was keeping all of that strength leashed just for her. There was something so damned sexy about that.

  She trusted that he would never do anything to hurt her and that knowledge, that trust that he had fought so hard to win, was so much hotter than anything else he had done in bed with her so far.

  Her palms slid down his slick chest, exploring the hard points of his nipples, playing there for a moment, until he groaned and lifted his mouth from where he had been nibbling at the crease of one of her aureoles.

  Once she was sure she had his attention, she deliberately left his chest and smoothed her way down over rock hard abs, to his pelvis and finally to the plump head of his cock, which had escaped the confines of his briefs.

  He inhaled sharply, and his stomach muscles jumped at the contact.

  “Charity. Wait…” She disregarded the urgency in his grating voice and happily pushed down his briefs until she had both hands wrapped around his pulsating hotness. “Oh fuck, sweetheart. That feels good.”

  “Kiss me.” She punctuated her demand with a long, sultry stroke of his cock, and he instantly complied, helplessly thrusting into the channel she had created with her tightly curled hands.

  He lifted his head and stared fiercely into her face while he continued to stroke himself in her snug hold.

  The sprinkling of hair on his chest rasped the aching peaks of the nipples he had left exposed above the top of her tank. And this time she was the one who groaned.

  “I want you, Miles. Inside of me. Now!” She remembered her manners enough to add, “please.”

  He chuckled, the sound rusty, and pushed himself up until he was kneeling between her thighs. He tugged at her tank top, and she arched her back and raised her arms, assisting him in the removal of the superfluous item of clothing. He tossed it over his shoulder and made a soft sound of satisfaction as he stared at her near naked body, his pleasure evident even in the limited light.

  Her hand was still on his cock, and she gave it a tug to keep him on task. He leaned over her, reaching for one of the bedside stands.

  “Wrong side,” Charity told him. “They’re in the other stand.”

  He shifted his weight toward the other side, tugged open the drawer and pulled a condom from the box she always kept in stock for him. His hands were shaking and he had to use his teeth to rip the foil package open.

  She took the sheath from him and rolled it down his eager length, prolonging the task because she enjoyed the way his back arched and his head flew back in reaction to her leisurely pumping motion.

  God, he was magnificent.

  He kissed her again. His mouth hot and voracious.

  He tugged her panties down to her hips and made a frustrated sound when it wouldn’t move any farther. Charity reluctantly relinquished her hold on his penis and helped him with the urgent removal of their underwear.

  Seconds later his lips were on hers, his cock poised for entry, while he was braced on his elbows with his tight, hard body trembling above hers. His damp hair framed his face and that, combined with the intensity in that steel gray gaze, made him look feral. His eyes were laser focused on her face, watching her every reaction as he slowly pushed his way inside.

  Oh God! He felt amazing…thick, hard, hitting all the right spots with his smooth, expert entry. He levered himself to his knees, her thighs and butt propped up by his well-muscled thighs. He flicked the bedside light on, flooding the room with warm light and stared at her for a long, appreciative moment. He grinned wickedly before bringing one of his long, elegant thumbs to his mouth and slowly and oh-so-fucking sexily sucking it into his mouth, getting it good and wet. He gave it one last lick for good measure, his tongue lapping the digit with quite thorough deliberation.

  He winked at her, and insinuated his hand down to where his body so perfectly slotted in hers and that wet thumb found her clit with unerring accuracy.

  She moaned at the touch, and her back bowed as she struggled to get closer to that subtle touch.

  “More, more…please. More!” He increased the pressure, flicking her clit in time with his strokes, light rhythmic butterfly taps on the sensitive bud that felt beyond description. Combined with the slide of his generous cock, it was swiftly driving her toward the orgasm she craved.

  “Don’t stop!” Her voice was a high-pitched, frustrated entreaty when his thrusts slowed. “Don’t stop! Please don’t stop, Miles.”

  “Ssh,” he soothed, and kissed her gently to silence her pleas. He grabbed her hips and held her firm, while he flipped himself around until he was on his back, and she was straddling him. Open, naked, knees braced on the bed. He had done it so smoothly they hadn’t even disconnected. His presence inside of her took on a different, deeper dimension, and she gasped at how full she felt.

  His thumb went back to her clit, and he stroked her again, but he had stopped thrusting, and she glared into his imperfectly beautiful face. His damp hair was haloed on the white pillow around his head, sweat gleamed on his forehead…He had never looked more gorgeous. Her hands were flat on his chest and she gave him a shove.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked huskily.

  “Why’d you stop? I told you not to stop.”

  “Thought I’d let you set the pace, that way I wouldn’t get it wrong,” he was breathless and struggling to talk but his meaning was clear.

  “Oh.”

  “Come on, sweetheart,” he encouraged, his other hand creeping around to her butt and squeezing. “Show me what you want.”

  She moved, slowly at first, her spine arched, head back as her hips rolled against his. Her internal muscles rhythmically stroked that proud column of hard flesh and her clitoris bounced against his thumb. His muscles were taut beneath her hands, the cords in his neck stood out in stark relief, and his teeth were clenched. Miles was starting to huff, great, gulping breaths sawing in and out of his chest, bringing to mind a thoroughbred stallion halfway through a bracing sprint.

  She found the rhythm she liked; fast and hard. She controlled the depth of his thrusts so that every second stroke hit her right where she most needed it until her internal pleasure and pressure were equal to the external, where his thumb still teased and tormented her.

  She couldn’t last much longer at this pace, and when his left hand strayed from her bottom and found one of her straining nipples, she careened off the tracks and slammed straight into a massive orgasm.

  Her nails dug into his chest, her thrusts lost coordination, and she clenched around his penis, spasming frantically as she milked him to intensify her own pleasure. Charity was vaguely aware of him jerking beneath her, his hands were on her hips, as he tried to control her movements, but she was a living flame…burning out of control.

  Untamable, unstoppable, and uncontrollable.

  Her movements finally slowed down, her inner muscles relaxed and relinquished their fierce grip on his rigid cock. Where before she had been flame, she was now liquid, and she melted onto his chest with a happy sigh. Her unbound hair blanketed them, and her cheek found a home right beside his frantically thumping heart.

  She was only peripherally aware of him removing the condom and setting it aside. He did so without shifting her from his chest, and once he had completed the task, he wrapped his arms around her relaxed body and held her close.

  They lay like that for a long while, and Charity was on the verge of dozing off, when a soft rumbling chuckle jerked her out of her somnolence.

  “Whaz funny?” she asked, too lazy to bother lifting her head.

  “When you came…you cried out and Stormy h-howled,” he explained, his voice wobbling at the recollection. “I was too preoccupied in that moment to pay much attention to it. But I just rememb
ered.”

  She lifted her head to stare at Stormy’s crate. The dog had settled down again and was snuggled around her heated bean bag fast asleep.

  “We must have frightened her,” she whispered, not wanting to disturb the pup.

  “I think she was just confused,” Miles said, one hand idly stroking her hair, while the other played with the fingers of her hand on his chest beside her face.

  His index finger traced the band she had on her ring finger. She sensed his curiosity but waited for him to ask.

  She didn’t have to wait long. “Why do you wear this?”

  “It’s not Blaine’s,” she told him, hooking her own index finger around his and holding it captive. He didn’t seem to mind and left his hand where it was. “I donated everything Blaine ever gave me, wedding ring included, to a shelter for abused women. I tossed in the car for good measure. I did keep most of the money from the estate, in case of emergency, but I haven’t had reason to use it yet.

  “I wear this ring because I thought it would keep questions at bay. I knew people would correctly assume I was widowed—divorcees rarely continue wearing their wedding bands—and be reluctant to ask me about what happened to my husband.”

  “How much longer do you think you’ll stay here?” The question was unexpected but valid. They both knew she couldn’t, wouldn’t…shouldn’t stay here for much longer. This place had been her escape for much too long, and she needed to find her way back to home and family.

  “I think…” she paused, her index finger idly picking and playing with his. “This will probably be your last Garden Route break with Mrs. Cole running your holiday household.”

  “I’m going to miss her. She is extremely efficient.”

  “I took what he taught me and used it to my advantage,” she explained.

  “What do you mean?”

  “I had to be the perfect housewife, well organized, everything in its place, everything on a schedule. Any deviation from what he wanted would result in a lesson.” He tensed beneath her, but she wasn’t going to let Blaine ruin this moment and she tugged his index finger to her mouth and dropped a playful kiss on its tip. “Anyway, when the opportunity to work here presented itself, I knew enough about efficient household management to fake it till I made it. But, it’s time to go back to my real life. To pick up the threads that I dropped or lost along the way. I was twenty-four when I married Blaine. I’d just finished my Masters of Technology in Chiropractic and…”