Back Off: Reed Security: Book One

by Robin Leaf

  After fumbling my way through making a pot on his ridiculously complicated machine, I find some funky, probably healthy, pancake mix, hoping buckwheat tastes a hell of a lot like the real thing. I find a small CD player in his kitchen turn it on as the pan heats up, expecting to find some classic rock when I push play. Nope.

  Janet? Seriously, güero?

  God, this album takes me back to high school. I listened to the CD on repeat so many times, I was afraid I would wear it out. It shuffles through the songs as I get to cooking, swaying my hips and lip syncing my little heart out.

  Right in the middle of “You Want This,” I feel his eyes watching me. I look over my shoulder and smile.

  “Morning, güero,” I say, taking a second to enjoy the sleepy, disheveled version of Noah in his black, low-riding pajama pants before turning off the stove and scooping the last pancake onto the plate.

  He smiles and approaches slowly, resting his hands on my hips and his lips at my ear.

  “When I woke up, I thought last night might have been a dream, but coming in here, seeing you dancing in my kitchen makes me think I might still be dreaming.”

  I turn in his arms and smack his ass playfully with the spatula.

  “Nope, you’re awake.” I lift up on my toes and whisper in his ear, “Y no tengo ropa interior puesta.”

  The look on his face suggests telling him I’m not wearing any underwear may put breakfast on hold for the moment. He reaches past me to the CD player, hitting skip until he finds the song he wants. “Any Time, Any Place” is an excellent choice.

  He lifts me onto the counter, wiping my hair from my eyes. Gripping my knees, he pulls me into him on a beat of the song, and drags his nose up the side of my neck, inhaling as he goes.

  “Whatever shall I do to you first, Cristiana?” he asks, his voice all low, husky, and sexy.

  “Maybe we should eat first.”

  I feel him smile against my neck.

  “I think I will. Te voy a comer.”

  I shiver from his promise to eat me, feeling my pussy pulse with need. Damn. This man and his Spanish dirty talk can really melt my butter.

  His hands travel from my knees up the outside of my thighs to my ass, pushing the shirt up as he goes, while he works his lips down my neck to the hollow of my throat. He quickly moves where my nipples are straining against his t-shirt, begging for some kind of action. He attaches his mouth to my nipple through the shirt and bites softly. I moan and feel myself get instantly wetter. I make a mental note to be sure to clean this counter later.

  His mouth moves to my other breast, biting a little harder on this one. I hiss at the sting, so he eases the pressure. I’m so lost in what he’s doing to my nipple, I miss that his hand has moved to my pussy. He runs his fingertips from my clit to my opening and growls. His finger enters me, and I rock into his hand. Damn, he has big fingers, and whatever he is doing… well, he’s doing it well, but it’s almost like he’s searching for something.

  Whatever it is, he just found it. I almost jump off the counter.

  Once he steadies me on the edge, he bends over and licks my clit slowly to the sultry, slow beat of the song, matching the movement of his finger inside me as it rubs that spot. I come without warning so fast and hard, it makes me light headed.

  His fingers retreat completely out of me, replaced by his tongue. I grasp the back of his head, unsure if I want to hold him there or push him away. My hips make my decision, thrusting forward into his face, greedy little things they are, needing more.

  He pulls away and watches as his finger circles my clit.

  “I want another one, Cristiana,” he demands, and right before he dives back in, he adds, “Watch me.”

  I see his tongue swirl around my clit, his mouth all wet from me. His eyes, almost black with desire, are fixed on my face, studying me. Jesus, it’s an erotic sight. When his hand reaches inside his pants, I adjust my line of vision to watch. He notices and pulls his cock out, letting me watch him pump his hand in time with his tongue moving against me.

  Santa mierda, that thing fit inside little old me? Damn, it’s no wonder I’m still a little tender.

  His thumb moves over the head of his shaft, spreading the tiny bead of wetness seeping out of it around the tip. I look down to see his hungry eyes still on me, watching me watch him. It’s just like my fantasy come to life, and it’s even better than I ever imagined it could be.

  Two fingers from his other hand enter me with force, and when he turns them to find the same magical spot as before, I feel this orgasm building into something that just might do me in for good.

  I move against his hand, wanting this… needing to come apart on his tongue, wanting him to taste my need. My right hand moves under my shirt, finding my nipple and pinching it, rolling it between my fingers. Damn, I’m going to come hard; I can feel it on the horizon.

  His rolled tongue encircles my clit, sucking on it, and that’s when I tumble over the edge, not caring if I ever land. Both of his hands grasp my hips to keep me steady as I ride out this blissful moment.

  Finally, I feel it subside, and he stands, wiping his face on his shirt as he pulls it over my head.

  He studies me, all of me. I feel his eyes on my pussy, my stomach, my breasts.

  “God, you are so beautiful, cariño,” he whispers.

  If I could speak, I’d sassily ask him why he didn’t speak Spanish this time, but my mind is still scrambled from two orgasms in less than six minutes to be able to form words.

  The song switches to “Throb,” and his face morphs into a naughty smile. He lifts me off the counter and places me in front of his breakfast table, turning me around. He kicks my legs a little wider, placing his feet on either side of mine, and pushes me to bend over.

  “I’m not going to be slow like I was last night.”

  “Good. Quiero que me des duro hoy.”

  Man, does he take directions well. I told him I wanted it hard, and he slams into me with such strength, I cry out. He moves with the force of a typhoon, and I can do nothing but hold on to the sides of the table and ride it out. Before I know it, one of his hands is wrapped in my hair, pulling my head back, and his other is on my nipple, pulling and pinching, all in time with the song. The noises coming out of me rival the sex noises in the song. It revs up his performance, crashing into me and making me louder.

  It’s so fucking surreal. Noah Reed is fucking me over his kitchen table.

  The song switches to “If,” and he groans, slowing down his movements and bending over me.

  “This was the song I watched you dance to on the beach, Nana,” he says lowly in my ear. “And I’m finally fucking you like I wanted to for so long, like I fantasized about that night when I jacked off in the shower. God, that image has sustained me through many a night.” He slams into me again. “And I gotta tell you, cariño, the reality is so much better than the fantasy.”

  His hand pinches my nipple and twists, and I feel it starting in my toes. My knees go weak and my thighs vibrate.

  “Noah,” I shout, convulsing around him, shouting and grunting some other nonsensical words and noises.

  He doesn’t slow down. He just fucks me through it.

  “Your pussy squeezes me so tight when you come,” he rushes out lowly, speeding up his movements. “Oh, God, fuck, you’re gonna make me…”

  His rhythm becomes erratic, and I feel him swelling inside me. I’m still making some crazy high-pitched noises I’ve never heard come out of me before, and not quietly.

  “Ah, fuck,” he whispers, and I feel him pulsing inside me, groaning through it. I grab the sides of his thighs and squeeze, holding him to me and still moaning.

  “Oh, shit,” we hear from the entryway of the kitchen. I look over to see Fionn’s face flash cherry red before he covers his eyes. He turns, bumping into the doorway, and yells over his shoulder. “Sorry, guys. I’ll be in the living room.”

  Noah folds over, resting his forehead in the center of my back,
careful to not crush me into the table while his cock gently rocks in and out. I feel him shaking gently on top of me.

  “Are you seriously laughing right now?” I whisper yell.

  He pulls out of me and runs his hand down my back. “The look on his face,” he chuckles, helping me stand, and turns me around in his arms. “Sorry, but you’re the first real-live naked girl my friend has seen in a long time.”

  “Poor Fionny,” I whine.

  “I told the guys to update me this morning with new information. I’m just glad it was him and not anyone else. Could you imagine if it was Bryan?”

  I smile and whisper into his chest, “Thank God for small favors,” placing a kiss over his heart. “Put your pants back on and ask him to eat breakfast with us.” He releases me, and I step toward the hallway. “I’m going to go clean up and find my underwear.”

  The panicked look on his face appears before he slaps his forehead. “Fuck, Nana, I’m so fucking sorry.” When I raise my eyebrow in question, he adds. “For not using a condom. I mean, I’m clean… I had tests done right before I was with… and so did Darla… fuck. This is not coming out right.”

  I pat his cheek. “Relax, güero. Normally, I’m all like sin globo, no hay fiesta, but since the last guy I was with cheated on me, I had all kinds of tests done several times afterward. I’m all good.”

  He chuckles. “No balloon, no party, huh?”

  “Yeah, usually.” I kiss his cheek before I try to make an exit, but he grabs my arm and pulls me to him, leaning so his lips are next to my ear.

  “Are you telling me that it’s okay that I came inside you twice? You’re not worried that I might have gotten you –”

  “Nope,” I cut him off, smiling tightly. I pat him on the chest gently extricate myself from his hold. “That’s covered, too.”

  He swats my ass as I walk away. “Okay.” He sounds kind of disappointed.

  I smile. I didn’t really think about kids until this very moment.

  I’d totally have a shit ton of them if Noah was the father.

  And now, I just freaked myself out.

  I walk into his bedroom and close the door, trying to get my breathing under control so I can search for my underwear. I need a quick rinse off shower and a boat load of perspective before I start dreaming of little Noah clones. No way am I ready for that.

  They would be hella cute though.

  Thirty

  Noah

  I find Fionn sitting on the edge of my couch rubbing his hands on his thighs nervously, his face still a bit red from what he saw. It just makes me wanna laugh.

  He stands as I walk in.

  “Grace be to God, Noah, I’m so sorry I interrupted… that.”

  I hand him the coffee I made for him and chuckle. “Don’t be. It’s okay. We were done.”

  “It sounded like someone was killing her,” his face turns a deeper shade of red as he takes a sip of his coffee. “With all that happened yesterday…” he trails off and grabs the back of his neck, “and when your door was unlocked, I didn’t know if someone was able to get in and –”

  “Fionn,” I bark to get his attention. Lightly clapping him on the arm, I continue. “It’s fine. I appreciate that when you thought she was in danger, you rushed in to save her.”

  “Yeah, well… You asked me to come over and update you first thing this morning with a report on the break in, and I thought… well, I just never expected after yesterday, that you two would be…”

  I chuckle at how awkward he seems trying to explain it away. Honestly, this was on me. First, I never feel the need to lock my apartment. My building is secure, and the men, mostly Fionn and Scotty, my head of security, can come and go. There’s never been a reason to have it any other way. Now, with the possibility of Cristiana’s nakedness, there is a very good reason.

  “Cristiana made breakfast and asked if you would like to join us. You can give both of us the report while we eat.”

  His nose crinkles. “No offense, Noah, but there is no way I’m eating at your table right now.”

  A laugh bursts from my lungs, and once I take a breath, I point to the barstools behind him and make my way over to set down my mug. “We’ll sit at the counter, dumbass.”

  “What’d she make? It smells kinda good.”

  “Pancakes, I think. I’m not quite sure. I wasn’t paying much attention past seeing her dancing in my kitchen.”

  He smirks. “Hence, um,” he wiggles his fingers my direction, “what I walked in on.”

  I smile and walk into the kitchen to grab the plate of pancakes. They’re a little cold, so I zap them in the microwave. While they heat, I take plates and utensils to the bar. Gathering the butter and syrup, I grab the pancake plate out of the microwave, taking our breakfast to where he has everything set up.

  “I thought you said these were pancakes.”

  “They are. I think she used the buckwheat mix I had in the pantry.”

  “You don’t mean the mix Seth gave you as his secret-Santa gift Christmas before last?”

  I inwardly cringe. God, let’s hope it’s not that one. That Christmas was the first and last time I let my receptionist talk me into that stupid secret-Santa shit. Everyone ended up giving each other gag gifts. Seth, who always gives me shit about my healthy eating, thought he was clever when he gave me what he referred to as a “vegan starter kit,” containing a box of buckwheat pancake mix, kale, tofu, and wheat germ. I actually thought I’d try the buckwheat pancakes, so I kept the mix. I’ve just never opened the package. Who wants to go through the trouble of making pancakes for one?

  I roll my tongue in my mouth. “It’s probably okay.”

  He smirks. “Did you check to see if there’s an expiration on the box?”

  “I was kind of busy,” I grouch, throwing my leg over the stool and serving myself one of the dark brown pancakes. “Just eat them. We’ll be fine. Do not screw up the first breakfast she’s made for me.”

  He settles on his stool, looking at me sideways with a grin. “So ye plan to have more breakfasts with the girl, do ye, now?”

  I ignore him, skipping the butter and drizzling the syrup. I see Fionn reluctantly serve himself and dress his breakfast as I take a bite. It tastes… sharp, off, even for buckwheat pancakes, which are an acquired taste, one I really haven’t acquired. The ones I had before were light and not terrible, kind of an awkward nutty flavor. These are heavy, bitter, and feel sandy, and the aftertaste lingers a bit longer than usual.

  Fionn coughs, spitting his into his paper napkin. “God, Noah, how do ye eat this shite. It tastes like fermented dirt.”

  I lift my coffee cup, drinking a huge swig and swishing it around in my mouth when Cristiana comes in the room, dressed in her clothes from yesterday.

  I pat the stool next to me, and she takes a seat, plopping two pancakes on her plate.

  “We apologize for what you saw, Fionny. Hopefully, you aren’t scarred for life.” she says. “Dios mío, I’m hungry.” Picking up the bottle, she drenches her plate in syrup.

  Sorry, sweetheart, but that won’t help.

  Fionn, good friend that he is, smiles as he shovels a huge bite into his mouth, chews and swallows, almost hiding his cringe. Following his example, I take another bite, forcing it down as quickly as I can to avoid the taste from fully registering on my tongue.

  She takes her first bite, chewing mightily. Her eyes widen, and she spits it out crudely onto her plate. “Oh, God, that’s fucking awful.” She grabs my coffee and drains the cup into her mouth, then stands, collecting all our plates and stacks them on hers. She quickly moves to the kitchen. “It tastes like I just licked Earth’s gritty asshole. Is this the shit you eat on a regular basis, Noah?”

  I follow her and lean against the doorway, watching her fork the pancakes into the trashcan.

  “No, I don’t like buckwheat pancakes. The box has never been opened.”

  “Then why do you even have the mix?” She narrows her eyes. “And why did
you eat it?”

  I smile.

  “You ate them because I made them?”

  When I nod, she softens her expression.

  “That’s sweet, but don’t do that kind of stuff, Noah.” She walks over to me and places her hand on my chest, lifting on her toes to kiss my cheek. “I prefer it when people call me on my shit and aren’t afraid to tell me I suck.”

  She turns to walk to the sink, but I grab her around the waist and pull so her back is flush against my chest. Grinding my hips into her lower back, I lean down to her ear. “I’m sure you are the best at sucking, cariño, but that’s something I can find out later.”

  She sinks into my hold and cups my cheek, running her nails through my whiskers. “Only if you’re lucky.”

  I release her, smacking her perfect ass. “I don’t hold you responsible for the gross breakfast. I just appreciate that you cooked for me.”

  She rolls her eyes, running water over the plates in the sink. After filling her coffee cup, she turns to the doorway. “Let’s go hear what Fionn has to say,” she walks past me adding, “then you’re cleaning the kitchen.”

  ***

  Fionn claps his hands together and starts to deliver his findings.

  “Joe reports that Ignacio blocked the brother’s access to his medical care in the hospital yesterday. He has been transferred to a mental-health facility in Houston and is under twenty-four hour watch with no contact with the outside world. Guillermo is threatening to sic his lawyer on the hospital because Ignacio is ‘non-campus-mental,’ Guillermo’s words.”

  “Ignacio wouldn’t have done this anyway,” Cristiana defends.

  I have to tamp down my irrational anger at her defense of the man because she spent the last year practically living with him.

  “He threatened to kill you,” Fionn says before I can. “Granted, he wasn’t in his right mind, but it’s a comfort to know he and his brother aren’t directly responsible.”