by Tara Wyatt
“You’re not sleeping on the couch,” he said between clenched teeth.
“Then get in the damn bed, Sebastian.”
“I sleep in my boxers.”
“Fine.” She let go of his sweatshirt, letting him stand. “I just want you to be comfortable.”
Right. Like he was going to be comfortable spending the night lying next to this woman he shouldn’t fuck, hard as goddamn steel.
“Fine,” he ground out. He’d noticed the way she’d devoured his naked chest earlier, the way she’d squirmed in her chair when he’d tended to her ankle. If he was going to suffer, so was she. Holding her gaze, he slowly pulled his sweatshirt off over his head and tossed it onto the floor. Then he hooked his fingers into his sweatpants and shoved them down over his hips, stepping out of them. He could feel his cock bobbing in his boxers, and from the way Kayla’s gaze went hot and soft, her eyes skimming from his face down to his stomach and then lower, he knew she could see. His nostrils flared and he shoved a hand through his hair, letting her look. “Still want me in the bed?” he asked, his voice gritty.
She nodded.
Goddammit.
As he moved around to the other side of the bed and turned off the light, he tried to think of anything and everything that might help him to get a handle on the lust raging through his veins. His brothers. Snowboarding. Knee surgery. Snow. Aerin’s babies. His favorite sushi restaurant in the West Village. But nothing worked, so he simply got in bed, laying on his back, his eyes on the ceiling. For several moments, they laid together in silence, the only sounds the howling wind outside and the crackling fire. He hoped that if he just held perfectly still and closed his eyes, he could forget about the woman lying in bed beside him. He could feel her warmth, smell the soft scent of her skin. He curled his hands into fists, fighting the urge to either reach for her or stroke himself. Anything to relieve the throb of wanting her so damn badly.
Kayla shifted a little in the bed beside him, a shiver running through her hard enough that he felt it.
“Maybe I should’ve left my fleece on,” she said quietly, adjusting the covers around herself, rolling to face away from him. She shivered again and rubbed her legs together.
Shit.
“Come here,” he said, his voice raw, and turned onto his side. With his hand on her hip, he tucked her against him, savoring the soft gasp she let out at the press of his cock against her ass. “Just until you’re warm,” he said, not sure if he was informing her, or reminding himself.
“Okay,” she said, her voice breathless. “Thank you.”
He splayed his hand over her stomach, reveling in the soft warmth of her curves and pulled her a little closer. For warmth. Not because the feel of her luscious, feminine body tucked against his was pure heaven.
She made a soft sound and pressed her ass against him, wriggling ever so slightly. He stifled a groan, the feel of her round ass against his hard cock almost too much.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and then shifted his hips, grinding against her. She whimpered and he did it again. “Do you know how many times I’ve fantasized about this ass?” He moved his hand from her stomach to her hip, squeezing. She sucked in a sharp breath.
“Tell me.”
“At least a thousand. Probably more.”
“Really?” she asked softly. She worked her ass against his cock as she rubbed her thighs together. God, that felt good.
“Really. If you knew the thoughts I’d had about you, you probably wouldn’t be wiggling against me like that.”
She undulated her hips and he moved his hand back to her stomach, his fingers inching upward until they skimmed the underside of her full breast. His thumb traced a path there, back and forth, and for a minute, they stayed like that, wrapped together.
“Do you remember my job interview?” she asked suddenly, and he frowned, not sure where this was going, both hoping and not hoping that it was the bucket of cold water he so desperately needed. They shouldn’t have sex. It was a colossally bad idea. And yet he was about ten seconds away from rolling her under him and spending the night finding out what she liked and how she tasted, what sounds she made when she came.
“Yes,” he said on a shaky exhale, trying to keep himself under control. Nothing had happened that he couldn’t survive yet. Yet.
“I think I spent half of the interview imagining you bending me over that conference room table and fucking me senseless.”
“Jesus Christ,” he growled, letting his hand wander up to her breast, his lips finding her delicate neck. She pressed her ass into him, wiggling against him. Her wriggling made the T-shirt slip down a little, exposing her shoulder and he couldn’t stop himself from trailing his mouth over the exposed skin.
“Tell me to stop, Kayla,” he murmured against her neck, nipping lightly at the juncture where her shoulder met her neck. “Tell me to stop.”
She said nothing. And then she took his hand and guided it up under her shirt to her breast. “I don’t want you to stop. I want you. I’ve wanted you for a long time. Even when I didn’t like you, I wanted you.” She moaned as he played with her nipple, his hips thrusting against her. “Bastian,” she panted, and it was the sound of his nickname, used only by people who cared about him, that shredded the last of his control.
“Kayla,” he rasped, levering up onto his elbow and then lowering his mouth to hers. She moaned against his mouth as he filled his palm with her breast, loving the way it overflowed his hand. She fit so perfectly against him, all her lush curves yielding to his hard muscle. He took his time exploring her mouth with long, slow sweeps of his tongue, his hand massaging her breast, his fingers teasing her beaded nipple. She gasped against his mouth, pressing her ass even harder against him and he broke the kiss, dragging his mouth over her jaw and then scraping his teeth over her earlobe. She shivered and rubbed her thighs together.
“Kayla, if you don’t want me to fuck you, you need to tell me now so I can go take a hike in the snow. Because I’m barely hanging on here.”
She rolled onto her back, his cock now tucked snugly against her hip. She laid a hand on his chest, tracing the contours of his muscles, her fingers playing in his chest hair, over his nipple. “Then let go, Bastian.”
So he did. He stopped fighting it and kissed her, carefully easing himself on top of her. She made a sweet humming sound when his cock pressed against her thigh, and he could feel the heat of her, even through the layers of fabric separating them. With her injured ankle, he knew he needed to be gentle with her, and so he carefully slid one hand around her right thigh, hooking it around his hips, leaving her left leg where it was.
As he kissed her, he slowly thrust against her, working his cock against her pussy, teasing and tormenting them both. She clung to him, her nails raking up and down his back, her hips tilting up to meet him.
“Oh God, you feel so good,” she whispered. “Fuck, Bastian.”
He loved hearing her call him that, so much. Probably too much, but right now, all he cared about was making both of them feel as good as possible.
He broke the kiss and trailed lazy kisses down her neck, skating a hand up under her shirt again and filling it with her breast. Her back arched off the mattress a little, pressing into his touch.
“Tell me what you like, Kayla. I wanna make you feel so fucking good.”
She moaned, writhing against him. “I like this. Kissing you, feeling how hard you are for me. I like the build up. I like the tease.”
“Mmm.” He circled his hips, pressing against her pussy while slowly rolling her nipple between her fingers. “What else?”
“I like it a little rough.”
He tightened his grip on her nipple and she gasped. “We have to be careful with your ankle.”
She nodded jerkily, her breath coming in sharp pants. “I know. I just…” She opened her eyes and met his in the darkness. “I like knowing who I belong to. I like not having to be in charge.”
“Oh, fuck,” he ground out, on t
he verge of losing control. He rocked his hips against her and she let out a shuddery breath. “Do you know how fucking perfect your answer is?” He kissed her, a hard, deep kiss that left them both gasping for air.
“Yeah?”
“Like I said, if you knew the fantasies I’d had about you…” He trailed off and sat up. “I need to see more of you. Touch more of you.”
“I want to know. Every single thought you’ve had about me, I want to know.” Then she sat up, letting him help her with her shirt. He worked it slowly over her head, revealing the most mouthwatering pair of breasts he’d ever seen. Full and heavy with dark pink nipples. Leaning forward, he closed his mouth over one, sucking it into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue. She moaned and wove her fingers into his hair, holding him close, shaking a little. He scraped his teeth over her nipple and she gave a little shriek that dissolved into a needy groan.
“Lie down, baby. Let’s talk.” He urged her down onto her back and laid down beside her, facing her and propped up on his elbow. Then he laid one hand on her stomach and slipped his fingers below the waistband of her leggings. As his fingers dipped lower, he groaned at what he found. “You’re so wet that you soaked right through your panties,” he said, his voice heavy with approval.
She spread her legs wider in invitation. “What are we going to talk about?”
He stroked her over top of her drenched panties, making her hips shift restlessly on the bed. “You said you wanted to know all the things I’ve fantasized about you. So I’m going to share.” He lowered his head, kissing her. “And I’m going to stroke this needy pussy while I tell you.”
She whimpered and nodded, her cheeks and chest flushed, her nipples gorgeously hard points. He rubbed his fingers in a slow circle over the wet fabric and then dipped inside, cupping her, tracing a finger up and down her slit.
“Hmm, where to start…” He slid a finger inside her, fucking her slowly, his dick throbbing almost to the point of pain in his boxers. He slid his finger free and traced a teasing circle around her clit. “I would fantasize about you coming into my office and telling me you needed help with a problem. A personal one.” He added a bit of pressure, stroking her clit in slow circles. “I’d ask you what it was and you’d sit on the edge of my desk and show me your wet, swollen pussy. You couldn’t focus on work because you needed to come. And so I’d lean forward in my chair and bury my face in your pussy, licking and sucking you until you came all over my face.”
“Holy shit, that’s so fucking hot,” she gasped, her hips moving against him. “You really thought about doing that to me?”
He rubbed her clit between two fingers, making her moan. “Kayla, I thought about eating your pussy almost every damn day. Fuck.”
“Oh, God,” she ground out, her legs shaking a little. “Tell me more.”
“I’d fantasize about sleeping next to you and waking you up with my hand between your legs, just like this. Playing with your sweet pussy until you came on my fingers. Until you needed something bigger to fill you up.” He slipped two fingers inside her, fucking her slowly, his thumb working her swollen clit.
“Oh, fuck, Bastian!” She clamped down on his fingers, riding his hand. She looked so beautiful like this, lost in how good he was making her feel.
“I fantasized about seeing your lips stretched around my cock, seeing that red lipstick smeared all over me as I fucked your mouth. As I came on your tongue and you swallowed down everything I gave you.”
“Ugnnnnnggghhh,” she moaned, inching closer and closer to orgasm. “Yes, Bastian. Yes. Fuck, yes.”
“I fantasized about handcuffing you to my bed and fucking you over and over again until neither of us could move. Until I’d made you come on my cock so many times that you forgot who and where you were.” He curled his fingers inside her, finding the little rough patch he was looking for, and stroked her, his thumb still working her clit.
“Yes! Yes! Oh, God.” Her hips writhed on the bed and he sucked in a breath, rapt at watching her on the verge of coming apart.
“And then, there’s this ass,” he said darkly, sliding his fingers out of her and tracing them around her asshole. She gasped and shuddered and then nodded quickly, her head thrashing on the pillow. He added the tiniest bit of pressure, not even enough to dip inside, and then retreated, rubbing his fingers over her pussy, circling her clit.
“Tell me,” she begged, her chest rising and falling in shaky breaths.
“God, Kayla, the things I’ve thought about this ass. Biting it. Spanking it.” He filled her pussy with three fingers. “Fucking it.”
“Oh fuck, Bastian!” She screamed and he felt her pussy clamp down on his fingers as she came, milking them in a way that had his cock throbbing, his hips jerking with the need to bury himself inside her. She rode his hand, grinding into him, her muscles pulling at him. Wetness coated his fingers as he slowly slipped free of her body, and he lifted his fingers to his mouth, needing to taste her. Her eyes were hazy and unfocused as she watched him suck his fingers, her hips still jerking off the bed. But then she sat up suddenly, kissing him with his fingers still in his mouth. In both of their mouths and his cock jumped, leaking at how fucking hot it was.
“I’ve wanted you for so goddamn long, Kayla,” he said against her mouth, curling his free hand around her waist.
She sucked his fingers slowly, sweetly, releasing them one by one. “I’m yours, Bastian. I’m all yours.”
Her words seared through him and he pulled her against him, kissing her hard and deep, mouths melding. Kayla was here, in his bed, telling him she was all his. Showing him that she wanted all of the same things he craved. That she was so fucking perfect for him it made his head spin.
Her hand slipped into his boxers and she curled her fingers around his cock, stroking him, squeezing him. With her other hand, she worked his boxers down, letting out an appreciative purr when he was free.
“Look at you,” she whispered, stroking him. “You’re so perfect.”
Hearing Kayla call him perfect was almost too much for him to handle, so he kissed her and started to ease her back down to the bed. She hissed out a breath and bit her lip.
“Your ankle?” he asked, slowly running his hand up and down her back, completely unable to stop touching her. She nodded and he helped her to lie back down.
“Stay here. I’ll be right back.” He moved off of the bed, shucked his boxers and then headed into the living room, where he grabbed two throw pillows off of the couch, along with the ice pack from the freezer. When he returned, he slipped both of the pillows under her ankle, wrapped the ice pack in her discarded shirt and pressed it gently to her ankle.
“But…” He could tell she was fighting back a pout and he laughed, climbing onto the bed on top of her.
“Don’t worry, Kayla. I’m not nearly finished with you. We need to get these leggings off.” He leaned forward and kissed her, then nipped along her jaw. “I’m going to take them off, slowly. Carefully. And while I do that, I want you to touch yourself. If you stop, the leggings don’t come off.” He bit at her shoulder. “If you make yourself come, the leggings don’t come off.” He cupped her over top of her leggings, massaging slowly. “If you’re mine, then that includes where and when you come.”
“Shit, that’s so hot,” she murmured, writhing against his hand. “Okay. I promise I won’t make myself come.”
“Good girl,” he growled and then kissed his way down her body, lavishing attention on her breasts, tugging gently at her nipples and making her back arch off the bed. He curled his fingers into the waistband of her leggings and slowly worked them down, urging her hips up with his other hand. Once he’d dragged them down over her ass, he started working on the right leg, his eyes glued to where her fingers had disappeared behind her panties. With an impatient growl, he tugged those down over her hips too. He resumed his careful work of peeling her out of her leggings, unable to tear his gaze away from where her delicate fingers stroked her swollen pink fle
sh. It was the most exquisite kind of torture.
He pulled her right leg free and then turned his attention to the other, more difficult leg. He didn’t want to cause her any pain—he liked being in charge, but pain wasn’t his kink, and he suspected it wasn’t Kayla’s either. His attention flitted back and forth between her fingers toying with her clit and the task at hand. When he got to her ankle, he did his best to pull it free of her leggings as quickly as possible. She let out a little gasp but didn’t say anything, her fingers still moving between her legs.
He tossed the leggings over his shoulder and then hooked his fingers into her panties, dragging them slowly down her legs and then letting them drop to the floor.
“Are you getting close?” he asked, settling himself between her thighs.
She bit her lip and nodded. “Mmmhmm.”
He leaned forward and licked her between her fingers, deliberately teasing her. “You taste so good, Kayla.” He sucked one of her lips into his mouth, her hips squirming.
“Please, Bastian,” she said, her voice sounding frayed and breathless. “Please.”
He teased his tongue between her fingers again and then nudged her hand away. “Don’t worry, gorgeous. I’ll take care of you.”
He closed his mouth over her pussy, savoring the taste of her on his tongue, unable to stop himself from groaning. He’d wanted her for so damn long that the fact he had his mouth on her pussy while she moaned his name made him throb and sweat. Her fingers clenched in his hair as he swirled his tongue over her clit before tracing it back down her slit, the taste of her making his balls ache. He reached up and took her free hand in his, weaving their fingers together over her stomach, needing to anchor himself.
As he licked and sucked at her, the thought that this might all look and feel different in the light of day invaded his brain, but he pushed it away. Tomorrow morning and whatever pain it brought didn’t matter right now. The only thing he cared about was making Kayla feel as good as possible as many times as she could handle.
