Private Prick

by Ember Cole

  “Confused,” I say. “Or uncertain. Or yeah, crazy. Any of those things would be a normal response to finding out the guy you’re dating has a fiancée he forgot to mention.”

  She gives me a shaky smile and blows a strand of hair off her forehead. “How about sex with strangers? Is that a normal response?”

  “Totally normal.”

  She smiles and trails a finger down my chest. “What if I don’t see you as a stranger? Not anymore.”

  “That bodes pretty well for your whole ‘getting to know each other better’ plan.”

  Her green eyes lock with mine, and she lays her palm against my chest. It feels good there, warm and necessary.

  “You’re not pissed?”

  I shake my head. “Not pissed. Guarded,” I admit, wanting to be straight with her. “Look, I’m not easy to be with, either. I’m too intense for a lot of people. I’m scattered and too quiet sometimes, too loud other times, and that can annoy the shit out of people. It’s made a lot of girls nuts.”

  Bekka nods and licks her lips. “But maybe your brand of nuts and my brand of nuts fit together…?”

  I laugh and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “That sounds like a tagline for a really fucked-up Hallmark card.”

  Her smile lights up her whole face, and she presses both palms to my chest. It’s a different sort of smile, one that reroutes the blood from my brain to someplace south of the border.

  “You know what else fits together well?” she asks softly.

  I grin. “I have a few ideas.”

  I scoop her into my arms, eliciting a startled squeal from her. She throws her head back, laughing, as I carry her toward the hall. “Where are we going?”

  “Bed,” I say. “Now.”

  “Oooh. Caveman speak.” She paws my chest again. “I like it.”

  “I know what else you like,” I murmur as I kick open my bedroom door and toss her onto my bed.

  Thankfully, the sheets are clean, though something tells me we’re about to dirty them up.

  She sits up and kicks off her shoes. “I like your room,” she says, glancing around. “Black sheets, black duvet, black headboard—it’s like a total man cave.”

  “That’s a redwood desk in the corner,” I say as I lean down and plant a kiss on her bare shoulder. “Don’t let it be said I lack color.”

  Her giggle turns into a happy sigh as I kiss the other shoulder. Her fingers thread through my hair as she leans back to give me access to the rest of her. “Don’t you want the pizza?” Her tone is teasing, and I can tell that’s the last thing on her mind.

  “Later.” I pounce on the bed, making her breasts bounce. My dick lunges with excitement as I push her backward so she falls against my pillows. “Right now, I’m craving something else.”

  “Oh. Tell me what.” She grins, and I know damn well she’s on the same page.

  “How about I show you?” I shove her skirt up and grab the edges of her white lace thong. She lifts her hips so I can peel it off, and my mouth is on her in an instant.

  “God,” she gasps as her thighs clench around my ears.

  I slide my tongue the full length of her, pretty sure this is my favorite thing in the whole damn world. I love the way she moves in my hands, her little sighs, the delicious softness of Bekka working her hips so she moves against my mouth.

  She arches up and claws at the top of my head, and it dawns on me this is our first time hooking up in an actual bed. I should slow the fuck down. Take some time with her.

  But as I slide one finger inside her, then two, it’s clear she’s on a fast track to release. “Adam,” she gasps, and bucks against me. “That’s it—right there.”

  I don’t know if she means my tongue on her clit or the fact that I just grazed her G-spot with my fingers, but I keep doing both. She’s almost there, I can tell.

  She shrieks my name, riding my hand, my mouth, clutching at my hair with both hands. “Adam! Oh my God, don’t stop!”

  I don’t. Couldn’t fucking stop if I tried. Especially not once she comes on a scream I’m pretty sure I’ll hear in my hottest dreams.

  I let her come down before I start shucking my jeans. I’m a gentleman and all that shit. I roll over and grab a condom from my nightstand, while Bekka drags her hands down my chest.

  “Way to expedite things by welding shirtless,” she says as I press her back onto the bed.

  “I’m the king of efficiency.”

  “And other things.” She grins and opens her legs for me. It’s an invitation I accept wholeheartedly, easing myself down between those creamy thighs.

  As my cock grazes her opening, she meets my eyes and smiles. “Know what?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “It goes both ways,” she says. “You can take what you need from me, too. Anytime.”

  “How about now?”

  I slide into her in one slick stroke, making us both gasp. She cries out and wraps her legs around me. Her moans are soft in my ear, and her red-gold hair tickles my nose. I drive into her, angling my strokes so I brush her clit with every thrust.

  It’s different this time, softer. Not me—I’m harder than I’ve ever been—but us. The way we move together. The way we breathe each other in, the way we’re moving like this is a dance we’ve practiced a thousand times before. Her moans drive me close to the brink, and the way she claws at my back tells me I’m going to have marks for days to come.

  Good. I want this to last. Not just the sex, but all of it.

  She comes a lot faster than I expect. For that matter, so do I.

  “Adam,” she pants, and presses tight against me, arching her back.

  I’m right there with her, plummeting over the edge as stars burst behind my eyes and I come my brains out until we both lie spent and sweaty.

  I roll to my side and pull her with me. She turns so we’re face-to-face, and I brush the hair off her forehead.

  Her smile leaves me feeling like I’ve swallowed one of those cinnamon jawbreakers. Or a ball of sun. Whichever’s more pleasant than painful. “I’m glad you came back,” I tell her.

  “I’m glad you didn’t let me get away.”

  “Are you kidding?” I prop myself on one elbow so I can look at her. “A woman who brings me pizza and fucks me senseless on the same day? You’re kinda my dream girl.”

  She giggles and plants a kiss at the corner of my mouth. “I was afraid I might not see you again. Not like this, anyway.”

  “You were going to see me again anyway,” I assure her. “I would have had to bring you your desk eventually.”

  Her brow crinkles with confusion. “The one in the lobby?”

  “No, the one in my living room.” I dot a kiss along her hairline. “It’s for you.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Yep.” I kiss her again. “I wanted you to have something I made, even after what happened. Something that would remind you of me. And then maybe someday, you’d look at it and decide to give me a chance.” I chuckle. “God, I sound like an idiot.”

  She grins and strokes my ass with one hand. “Not at all. I’m glad you didn’t give up. It just proves you’ve got staying power.”

  “You have no idea,” I tell her, already fantasizing about the all-night fuck sessions we’re going to have together.

  Bekka grins and sits up. “How about that pizza?”

  “Think it’s still warm?”

  “I’ll check.” She bounces off the bed, giving me ample opportunity to admire everything else that’s bouncing. God, I could never get tired of watching her. I stare at her pert little ass as she sashays out the bedroom door, then disappears into my living room.

  When she comes back, she’s holding the pizza box and a pair of plates she must’ve grabbed from the kitchen.

  “I couldn’t find napkins,” she says as she settles back on the bed “I hope it’s okay I dug through your cupboards.”

  “It’s totally okay,” I say as she lifts the top of the box and releases a mouthwa
tering pizza cloud. “Make yourself at home.”

  Here. In my life. In my heart.

  I don’t say any of that shit because it’s totally fucking cheesy. But I mean it, and I think she does, too.

  When her eyes meet mine and she smiles, I’m sure of it.

  “Shall we try this again?” she asks. “Our first real dinner date?”

  “The first of many,” I tell her, and reach for a slice.

  EPILOGUE

  BEKKA

  I wipe a damp cloth over the surface of the desk, smiling like a huge dork the way I always do when I touch this piece of furniture.

  For the record, I never smile like this when I touch my coffee table. Or my dining room chairs. Or my bed.

  Actually, scratch that. I totally smile when I touch my bed, and the reason just knocked on my apartment door.

  I toss the cloth on the kitchen counter and glance in the mirror to smooth down my hair. Dabbing at a fleck of mascara under my eye, I lick my lips and taste the passion fruit–flavored gloss he loves so much.

  This is going to be a good night.

  I turn from the mirror and put an extra wiggle into my step as I stride to the front door in the studded heels he begs me to wear every time we go out.

  But tonight, we’re staying in. Tonight is special.

  I throw the door open and grin up at the sexiest guy I know. Adam stands in the doorway wearing a fitted black T-shirt and a pair of worn jeans that hug his perfect ass.

  God, he’s hot.

  “Hey, sexy.” I stand on tiptoe to plant a playful kiss on his scruff-lined jaw, but he’s having none of it.

  He pulls me to him, pressing my breasts against the delicious, sculpted planes of his chest. “It’s our elevatorversary,” he says, repeating the corny term I coined last night when we realized it’s been one month since we got stuck together in that bucket of bolts. “I think you owe me a proper kiss.”

  “Let me see what I can do.” I brush his lips with mine, still teasing. “How’s that?”

  Adam growls and claims my mouth with a fierceness that takes my breath away. His tongue skims my upper lip, then strokes mine. He kicks the door shut behind him and walks me backward into my apartment. I silently congratulate myself for having the foresight to clear a path from the door to the desk.

  This isn’t our first rodeo.

  We’re both breathing hard when we break apart in front of the desk he built for me. His dark eyes are wild and heated, and I shiver with the knowledge of what’s to come.

  Me, for starters.

  “You’re so fucking hot,” he says, sending another ripple of happy shivers down my arms. “I like the dress.”

  “This old thing?” I step back and do a slow twirl, showing off the form-fitting green sheath that brings out the color in my eyes. I’ve left my hair loose around my shoulders the way he likes it, and I spritzed his favorite perfume between my breasts.

  Breasts that are on full display in the low vee at the front of the dress. I turn back around so he can appreciate the effect of my push-up bra. I see just how much he’s appreciating it as I let my gaze dip to the front of his snug jeans.

  “Fuck, Bekka.” He slides a hand into the curve of my waist and claims my mouth again. “I can’t decide which I want more,” he growls when we break apart again. “To bury my face in your tits or to lube up my cock so I can slide it between them.”

  I love when he talks dirty. I love it even more that he plans to put his money where his mouth is, and his mouth where his hand is.

  His fingers skim up the hem of my dress, moving along the inside of my thigh.

  “Hello,” I breathe as his fingers inch higher. “What do you think you’re doing?”

  He grins as his fingertips graze the damp heat between my legs. “Touching my girlfriend’s pussy.”

  I whimper, both from the pleasure of contact and from the thrill of hearing him call me his girlfriend. We’ve used words like that for a couple weeks now, and it still makes me giddy.

  So does the way he’s touching me.

  “Mmm.” His lips brush my ear as he slides a finger along my slick seam. “Someone skipped panties tonight.”

  “I wanted to be ready for you.”

  “You definitely are,” he murmurs. “You’re so wet. Were you touching yourself before I got here?”

  “May-be,” I purr. “Or maybe I get wet every time I see you.”

  Maybe? Hell, definitely. It’s still true after a month, and I can’t believe how fucking awesome that is.

  Adam circles the pad of one finger over my clit. I dig my nails into his shoulders through his black T-shirt as my head starts to spin. “You’re definitely ready,” he says, dipping a finger inside me as he brushes the heel of his hand over my clit. “You’ll go off like a rocket if I keep doing this, won’t you?”

  I nod against his shoulder, already feeling the pressure building between my legs. How is this possible? How can he get me from zero to fuck-yes-I’m-coming in five-point-three seconds every time?

  When he drops his hand, I give a soft cry of protest. “Don’t stop.”

  He laughs and fixes both hands on my hips. “I’m not stopping,” he says. “Just making it better for both of us.”

  A shudder of anticipation ripples through me as he boosts me up onto the desk. A desk I thoughtfully cleared before he got here so we can christen it in style.

  “It’s our first time on this baby,” I tell him as I unzip his fly and pull out his cock. It’s thick and hard and ready for me, and I lick my lips in anticipation of the other first that’s about to happen.

  “You ready for this?” His eyes lock with mine. “You don’t want to take it slower?”

  “No.” I shake my head. “No way. I want you now.”

  After all, this will be the first time we have sex without a condom.

  I can’t fucking wait.

  Neither can Adam, judging from the way he’s gliding the tip of his cock through the slickness at my opening. I can’t believe how badly I want him. I can’t believe he’s really mine. I can’t believe any of this, honestly.

  He slides his cock into me one glorious inch at a time and, holy shit, I can feel everything.

  “Yes.” The word slips from my mouth on a hiss. “God, you feel good.”

  His body draws tight and he groans, pushing all the way inside. “So do you. So fucking good.” He lowers his mouth to my throat and nibbles on my pulse point. “I’ve never felt anything so good in my life.”

  I know. Jesus, it’s unreal. And that neither of us has ever done this before makes experiencing it together a million times better. I twine my legs around his waist as he starts to move, driving into me with thrusts as familiar to me as the ceiling above his bed.

  I’ve seen a lot of that ceiling these past weeks.

  I close my eyes and let my head fall back, urging him to go deeper. To pound into me with all he’s got, burying himself to the hilt.

  He does it without me uttering a single word. He reads my mind, reads my body, reads everything that’s written between the lines.

  How did I never realize how fucking good this would feel? Not the sex—though that’s un-fucking-believable. I’m talking about the sensation of being joined so closely with a guy who knows me inside and out and doesn’t run screaming in the opposite direction.

  Speaking of screaming—

  “Adam!” I bite down on his shoulder to muffle a cry of pleasure, conscious of the fact that he’s fielded several noise complaints on my behalf these past few weeks. “I’m so close already.”

  If anything, he drives into me harder, gripping my hips with his hands. “Want me to wait or come with you?”

  “With me,” I urge, clenching my thighs around him. “I want to feel you fill my pussy when I come.”

  His hips stutter and he chokes out strangled groan. “Fuck, I love it when you talk dirty to me.”

  I smile around a gasp of pleasure and he pounds into me, relentlessly driving me h
igher. “Close,” I whimper. “So close.”

  “Look at me,” he demands through gritted teeth. “Look at me when you come.”

  I do, and the intensity in those deep brown eyes is all it takes.

  When the first wave hits, I forget to stifle my scream, and we come together in a crash of raised voices and smacking flesh and throbbing pulses of pleasure. The center where we’re joined turns liquid, and I’m conscious of him pouring into me, filling me to overflowing.

  Holy shit, I’m drowning. In the best possible way.

  We’re both still panting when he finally slows to a stop. His expression is glazed and full of heat, and something else that might be the start of love.

  It’s too soon to say that, but it’s coming. I know it is.

  And to think this thing between us might have never happened if he’d been in the office instead of his father when Kymber went looking for a sexy man to pop her cherry.

  Adam’s all mine.

  I smile and stretch up to kiss him softly on the mouth. “Well, that was nice.”

  “Nice?” He lifts an eyebrow, then dips his head to nip my earlobe. He drags his teeth from there down my throat, making goose bumps ripple down my arms.

  “Nice is good,” I tell him. “Nice is—oh. What are you doing?”

  “Devouring you,” he murmurs against my throat. “Making you beg for more. Making you admit it was a helluva lot more than nice.”

  Adam Black might be the nicest guy I’ve ever dated, but he’s right about one thing—the chemistry between us is way beyond nice. It’s explosive. It’s raw and passionate and delicious and everything I ever wanted.

  “Okay, okay,” I beg, gasping as he nips the nerve-laced spot at the base of my throat. “It was way more than nice. It was fucking amazing. And I can’t wait to do it again.”

  He grins and plants a kiss on my forehead. “Same.”

  I twine my fingers around the back of his neck, conscious of the fact that he’s still half-hard inside me. That it’s awesome not having to race to get rid of the condom.

  I lean up to kiss him on the lips, holding his gaze with mine. “Happy elevatorversary, Adam.”