by Ember Cole
Is that what she’s thinking? If only we hadn’t been interrupted. I wasn’t kidding when I told her to take what she needs. What are the odds she’ll take me up on it?
She pats the desk one last time as we start toward the stairs. “You’re very talented.”
“Thank you.”
I bite back the urge to make some smart-ass quip about how I’m talented in other ways. My brain is stuck in perv mode, but I definitely don’t need to broadcast that to her.
“I’ve been thinking about starting an Etsy shop,” I tell her.
“You’re on Etsy?”
“Nope. Never seen it before. But this girl I know says it’s a good place to sell handmade furniture.”
“You’d make a killing,” she says. “Hell, I’d probably buy one.”
“Really?”
“Sure, if you give me a deal.” She grins, and I wonder if she’s thinking dirty thoughts about trading BJs for furniture. Not that I’d agree to something like that, but it’s a fun thought.
“I could show you sometime how it works,” she says. “Etsy, I mean. I love that site.”
“Deal.”
Did we just make a date? I’m not sure, but I’ll take any excuse I can get to see her again.
Bekka laughs. “Sorry.”
“What for?”
“Did you just hear my stomach growl?”
“Nope. Hungry?”
“Starving. I guess the granola bar and the mandarin didn’t cut it.”
I consider offering to take her to dinner. Would that be too forward?
You just had your face between her legs. How would dinner be more forward?
But no, she just split with her boyfriend, so the last thing she needs is pressure from some dude she hardly knows.
Only I do know her. At least I feel like it. Something about that hour in the elevator left me feeling like we’re much more than strangers. It’s not just the fact that I made her come her brains out. It’s something else, something I can’t quite describe.
“Oh!” She squeezes my arm, and for a second I worry she’s read my mind. “There’s ice cream in my freezer. I’m going to kill Kymber if she didn’t leave some for me.”
“Lead the way.” I yank open the door that leads to the stairwell, then fall into step behind her so I can catch her if she stumbles. “Watch it, those shoes look deadly.”
She wobbles a little, and I reach out to steady her by the hip.
“Thanks,” she says, offering me a saucy smile. “If I knew that’s what it took to get your hand on my ass, I’d have fallen down a lot sooner.”
Jesus. She slays me when she flirts like that.
“You don’t have to fall down for that,” I assure her. “I’ll grab your ass anytime you like.”
Our eyes lock for a few heartbeats before she grins wider. “Hmm.” She feigns a thoughtful look, putting a finger on her chin and pretending to consider it. “Maybe I’ll take you up on that.”
Before I can say anything else, like hell-to-the-fuck-yes, she laughs and continues up the stairs.
I do my best not to stare at her legs and ass. Part of me wishes she lived on the tenth floor so I’d have that much longer to admire this stunning view, to appreciate all these lush curves from behind.
The thought of taking her from behind has my cock throbbing again. Something tells me she’d like it that way. That Bekka’s the sort of girl who goes crazy for being bent over something and pounded hard.
Knock it off. You’re turning into a walking boner.
Her heel wobbles again, but she stays upright. Four flights of stairs on five-inch stilettos might not be a great idea. “You doing okay?” I ask. “If it’s too much in those shoes, I could carry you.”
She looks back at me with an expression that’s halfway between wonder and disbelief. “How did I never realize guys like you exist?”
“Guys who give a shit about your comfort and safety?” I stare at her. What kind of assholes has she been dating? “We’re out there.”
“Not where I’ve been looking.” She turns away and continues up the stairs, but there’s an extra wiggle in her walk. Is that for me or just my imagination?
Either way, I’m grateful. Grateful for this view, grateful that I got a chance to touch her, to caress her, to feel her coming hard and fast and—
“Here we are,” she announces.
I blink, surprised to discover we’ve reached the fourth floor. I edge past her to get the door, then hold it open as she passes.
“Thanks.” There’s that grateful look again, and I follow her through the door and down the hall to her place. When she reaches her apartment, she hesitates. Biting her lip, she turns to face me and leans back against the door.
“So, uh—thanks again. For everything.”
Everything.
God. Now I can’t stop thinking of everything. About all that went down in the elevator, including me.
“No problem.” I toss my keys from one hand to the other, feeling restless and out of sorts.
Bekka watches me, her expression hungry. For me or for that ice cream she mentioned? She’s definitely thinking about something. I can see the wheels turning in that beautiful brain of hers, and it’s interesting that she hasn’t reached for the doorknob yet.
She clears her throat, and I stop tossing my keys.
“When your dad called you about rescuing me,” she says slowly, “did he happen to mention where he was?”
Balls-deep in your roommate, I’m sure, is the answer on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t say it. Neither did my father, but I could tell from his voice that he wasn’t playing backgammon with Kymber.
“They’re at his place,” I tell her. “They’ll probably be tied up for a while.”
“She will, anyway.” Bekka shoots me a salacious grin. “Sorry, is that creepy to say when it’s your dad?”
I grimace but shake my head. “What’s a little bondage humor between family?”
She laughs, but I can see she’s still thinking. That there’s something on her mind and she’s trying to decide whether to spit it out. I could stand here all day just watching her think. Watching her breasts move under that snug little shirt. Watching her ponytail swing as she bounces with pent-up energy.
When she speaks, her voice comes out high and electric. “What you said earlier—about taking what I need. Um, you remember that?”
God, do I. “Yep.”
“Right. So. I guess I was just wondering—” She licks her lips, and her green eyes lock with mine. “Does the offer still stand?”
I nod, hardly trusting my own voice. “Yeah. It does.”
“Oh. So it’s like—an open-ended offer?”
I laugh. I can’t help it. She seems to realize what that sounds like at the same time I do, so we both do this Beavis and Butt-Head cackle that totally breaks the tension.
“Open-ended offer,” I agree when I catch my breath. “That’s right.”
“Okay.” There’s a nervous quality to her smile now that’s so fucking adorable. Like she’s wrestling with what to say.
“Because the thing is,” she says slowly, “I was thinking.”
I take a step closer. Her chin tilts up, and her face is scant inches from mine. I could kiss her if I wanted to, and I really, really want to. But I need her to tell me that’s what she wants. “What were you thinking?”
Her breasts move as she takes a deep breath. “I want to take what I need,” she says. “And I need you.”
I need you.
Three of the sweetest words I’ve ever heard, and they’re tumbling from the most luscious mouth I’ve ever tasted. Her breath is coming faster now, making her breasts rise and fall in a delicious rhythm. The hall light is burned out—I need to replace that—and the shadowy dimness makes this conversation more intense.
I step closer, totally in her personal space now. “Well then,” I say. “Let’s do something about that.”
Her face breaks into a wide grin, and
she brushes a few strands of red-gold hair off her forehead. “Okay,” she says, breathless. “Okay.”
I start to reach for her again, but she holds up a hand. “Wait.”
Damn. I knew it was too good to be true. “What’s wrong?”
“I just—” She takes a shaky breath. “This probably goes without saying, but this—this can’t be anything, okay?”
“Anything?” She’s speaking in a code that my lust-addled brain can’t decipher.
“It’s just sex,” she says. “I’m not in the right headspace for anything else. I’m assuming you’re in the same place, but—”
“Totally,” I say, willing to agree to anything that will get us back on track to tearing each other’s clothes off. “I promise we’re not going fuck each other’s brains out and then roll over to address wedding invitations.”
“Okay.” Her smile widens. “Good.” She turns and fishes her keys out of her purse. It’s the most agonizing ten seconds of my life as she finds the right one, jams it into the keyhole, and slowly pushes the door open.
We hardly make it past the threshold before we’re all over each other. As Bekka tosses her keys in the direction of a metal bowl on the table, I kick the door shut and reach for her.
Her keys miss the bowl and clatter to the floor, but we’re way past caring. My mouth is on hers as we stumble into the room, our pelvises grinding with each step.
I pick her up, not wanting to force her to walk backward in those damn shoes. Hell, I barely trust myself to put one foot in front of the other, but somehow I manage to get us into the dining area. We collide with the table and I set her down, breathless and hungry for her.
“Fuck,” she pants, clawing at my shirt. “I need this off.”
“As you wish.” I wonder if she catches the cheesy Princess Bride reference, or if she just thinks I’m giving her what she needs. That’s what I’m here for. To perform a service. To give this gorgeous woman whatever the fuck she’s aching for.
Hell, she’s not the only one aching.
I grab the hem of my T-shirt and drag it up my abdomen, ordering myself to go slowly. Not like I’m trying for a striptease or anything, but I want her to enjoy herself. To know this is all about her. As I pull the shirt over my head, Bekka leans back and studies me.
“Fuuuuuck,” she says, drawing out the syllable this time. She sticks a thumbnail in her mouth and bites down. “You have an amazing body.”
I toss my shirt aside, and something crashes to the floor. She giggles, but doesn’t break eye contact to see what broke.
“Sorry about that.” I reach for her again, cupping her ass with both hands as I kiss her hard and deep. When I draw back, I give both cheeks a soft squeeze. “This is pretty fucking fantastic.”
“Mmmm, don’t stop.” She moves so my leg slips between hers, and I let her ride me. Let her grind that sweet little pussy against the worn denim of my favorite jeans, giving herself all the delicious friction she can handle.
“I’ve been dying to touch you.” She rakes her nails down my chest as I tug at the buttons on her shirt. I’m trying to be careful, trying not to rip anything, but my God I’m desperate to have my hands on her.
She kisses me again, tangling her tongue with mine. The way she’s grinding on me leaves little question about what she’s feeling, and it thrills me to no end to know she’s this turned on. That I’m not the only one ready to blow a gasket.
I can’t bear to break contact with her again, so I keep kissing her as I fumble blindly with the zipper at the back of her skirt. She’s all too eager to wriggle out of it, and the sway of her hips has my dick throbbing like a heartbeat. I shove the skirt down, and she steps out of it, kicking it across the floor. It wraps around the leg of an end table as I finish unbuttoning her shirt.
“Christ,” I choke out as I shove it off her shoulders.
She smiles and yanks her arms out, then lets it fall behind her. She takes a step back, letting me admire the full effect of her standing there in the living room wearing nothing but fuck-me heels and these lacy blue-green panties and matching bra.
“You’re so fucking hot.”
She smiles and reaches up to pull the elastic out of her hair. It falls around her shoulders in a red-gold waterfall, and my mouth goes dry.
“Bekka.”
That’s all I manage to get out. She’s seriously stolen my whole vocabulary.
She knows it, too, and shoots me a saucy grin. Then she does this sexy little shimmy that tells me she knows damn well she has a rockin’ bod. The package is hot, but her confidence is hotter.
I reach for her again, dying to claim her mouth. To claim all of her. She arches against me, breasts pressing into my bare chest as my palms skim her bare ass.
“I haven’t stopped thinking about this from the second you walked into the elevator,” she says.
“You mean dropped from the ceiling?”
She laughs and strokes my dick through my jeans. “Like a goddamn superhero. A sex superhero.”
My cock is about ten seconds from staging an escape attempt through the fly of my jeans, and if she keeps stroking me like that, I’m gonna lose it. Jesus, it’s like I’m in high school again. Since when does a handy through my jeans get me off?
Since I met Bekka Zoler, that’s when.
Maybe she senses I’m careening toward DEFCON 1 because she stops stroking my dick and yanks at my button with both hands. “Let’s set you free, shall we?”
“God, yes.”
She jerks the zipper down, then reaches into the waistband of my boxer shorts.
“Oooh, you’re a boxers guy,” she says. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”
“No?” I nibble her earlobe, enjoying the way she squirms against me. “How did you peg me?”
“Boxer briefs, maybe,” she pants. “Or commando.”
“Only when I forget to do laundry.”
Jesus, stop talking about housekeeping. That’s hardly the kind of dirty talk you want here.
I kiss her again, partly to silence myself and partly because I can’t get enough of her. She pushes my jeans over my hips and takes my dick out, giving it a nice, long stroke with both hands.
“Thank God,” she murmurs against my mouth.
“For what?” I can think of about a hundred things right now.
“For you being hung like a goddamn elephant,” she says, making my ego surge along with my cock. “I had a hunch you would be.”
I cup her ass hard, holding her against me. “Did you also have a hunch I’d end up fucking you senseless before the day was over?”
She giggles, but her eyes go a little wider. “I did. Am I psychic?”
“Maybe so.”
Bekka curls her fingers around my shaft and strokes me from root to tip. She looks up at me through her lashes and smiles. “I can’t wait to feel this inside me.”
“I can’t wait to slide it in as deep as it can go,” I manage before she gives my dick a delicious, full-length squeeze that makes my balls tighten.
I suck in a breath and try not to die.
She stands up on tiptoe to kiss the spot behind my ear that always makes me crazy. That’s followed by another light kiss along my jaw, and a featherlight one against my Adam’s apple. She’s teasing me with a thousand little butterfly kisses while her hand works magic on my cock.
“Fuck, Bekka,” I choke out.
She looks up and smiles, but doesn’t let go of my dick. I look into her eyes to make sure she’s still on board with this. That she’s not having second thoughts.
She takes a step back, and I hold my breath. If she’s calling this off, I can respect that, even if my balls are screaming for release.
But she sinks to her knees, taking my jeans down with her. When she smiles up at me, there’s a playful glint in her eye.
“My turn,” she says, and wraps her lips around my cock.
Holy fucking shit.
She sucks me down deep, and I thread my fingers into her hai
r, resisting the urge to thrust. She takes me all the way into her throat, tipping her head back to swallow my whole cock. I groan, already pretty sure this is the best fucking blow job I’ve ever had. I fall back heavily against a tall accent table as she swirls her tongue around my shaft, grazing my thighs with her breasts.
There’s a vase of lilies on one end of the table. I don’t realize this until I whack it with my elbow. Down it goes, along with a fashion magazine someone left lying there.
I should probably grab it, but I’m too far gone to do anything but savor the feel of her mouth on my cock. She gives a low moan, deep-throating me like a fucking champ. God.
I glance down and realize she’s kneeling on her folded skirt. I’m impressed by her foresight, almost as much as I am by the way she’s gripping the base of my dick like it’s an extension of her mouth. Holy fuck, this girl knows how to give head. She’s somehow managed to hit the perfect balance of suction and friction, of tease and delivery.
How did I know she’d be fucking amazing at this?
She slips one hand between my legs to graze my balls with her nails. I suck in a breath and grip the edge of the table.
“That’s it,” I groan, wondering if we should slow things down. I’m not going to last long at the rate we’re going. “That pretty mouth looks so hot wrapped around my dick. Touch yourself,” I urge when I notice her hand moving between her legs. “Slide two fingers in that tight little pussy and make sure you’re nice and ready for me.”
She obeys, pushing aside her panties to stroke her slick folds. Two fingers vanish under that damp lace, and she moans around my cock.
“Good girl.”
I want to keep watching her work her clit, but the suction of her mouth is getting to me. It’s all I can do to keep from shooting my load right down her throat.
She licks one long, slow stroke from the base of my shaft to the throbbing head, then sits back to grin at me like a girl who just stole the last Popsicle from the freezer.
“You’re delicious,” she says.
I reach for the hand that’s in her panties, and she gives it to me without question. I draw her fingers deep into my mouth, reveling in the taste of her. “And you’re seriously driving me insane,” I tell her.
I pull her to her feet, wanting her so desperately my whole body aches. I reach behind her and unhook the bra clasp with one hand, needing to free those perfect tits.
