by Tara Wyatt
Together. Fuck, that word felt good.
He cut the engine and stepped off, then retrieved her weekend bag from the little sled attached to the back of the snowmobile, slinging it over his shoulder. He helped Kayla off and pulled her into his arms. He’d kissed her at the train station, and again in the car, but they’d been in public, so he hadn’t kissed her nearly as thoroughly as he’d wanted. Now, alone in front of his cabin, he was going to take his time rediscovering the sweetness of her mouth.
He closed his mouth over hers and she let out a soft moan, swaying into him, her gloved hands fisted in his jacket. The kiss was slow and leisurely, but still simmering with heat. They’d only been together a short while, but he was already convinced that he’d never get enough of kissing this woman. Never.
He felt her shiver against him and reluctantly broke the kiss. They were having a cold snap in the mountains, with temperatures below zero all week.
“I swear, it must be twenty degrees colder here than in the city,” she said, shivering again.
“Let’s go inside and I’ll get a fire going.” He took her hand, watching her as she took the stairs a little cautiously. “Your ankle seems a lot better,” he commented as they stepped onto the porch and he set about unlocking the door.
“It is. It really only hurts if I stand on it too long now.”
He turned to face her, trailing his fingers over her cheek. “I can’t even tell you how grateful I am that you weren’t seriously hurt.”
She smiled up at him, warmth shining out at him from her emerald eyes. “I’m grateful for everything that happened last weekend, Sebastian. Not turning into a human popsicle is definitely great, but connecting with you is even better.”
He bent down and kissed her again, and then pushed open the door to the cabin. The second the door was closed, shutting out the biting cold, he backed her against it, his mouth on hers. “I fucking missed you,” he said, filling his palms with her ass and lifting her. She wound her legs around his waist, kissing him back hungrily.
“I missed you too, Bastian. I touched myself every night thinking about you.”
“Good girl,” he murmured against her mouth, his tongue sliding against hers. Need burned through him, making his cock throb, making his stomach tighten and his heart pound. The idea of Kayla touching herself to thoughts of him was beyond hot. Granted, he’d done the same thing, stroking himself daily to thoughts of Kayla. It was satisfying to know she wanted him just as badly. More than satisfying.
He ground his hips against her, pinning her against the door, and she moaned into his mouth. Her hands tugged off his beanie, tossing it to the floor as she writhed against him. Slowly, he gentled his kiss, pulling away and carefully setting her down. She let out an impatient huff and he kissed her forehead.
“Let’s eat dinner first. I promise, you’re going to need your energy later.”
She smiled and started peeling herself out of her winter gear. “I guess I am a little hungry.”
“Good. Because I went up to the resort earlier this afternoon and picked up dinner for us. I just need to reheat it.”
“Ooh, what did you get? Burgers?”
He chuckled and shook his head. “No, baby. I got us a cheese plate, fresh fruit, mushroom ravioli, and apple pie.”
Her mouth fell open. “Sorry, I think I might’ve drooled a little.”
“Why don’t you settle in and I’ll get dinner heated up and the fire going?”
She nodded and moved toward his bed, setting her bag down on it and then disappeared into the bathroom. All week, he’d missed the sounds of her moving around his little cabin. He’d missed the feel of her body tucked against his at night. He’d missed the sound of her laugh and talking to her about anything and everything. When he was with her, life just felt right in a way that it hadn’t for him in a very long time.
Once he’d put the ravioli and apple pie in the oven to warm, he quickly made a fire in the fireplace and then arranged pillows and blankets in front of it. A pang of guilt shot through him that he wasn’t serving wine or champagne with the romantic dinner he’d planned, but it was too risky. It didn’t bother him at all if Kayla had a drink. If they were eating in a restaurant, he wouldn’t care if she had a glass or two of wine with dinner. He just didn’t trust himself enough yet to have alcohol in his house. He hadn’t had a drink since the day before he’d gotten fired and he wanted to keep that sober streak going.
“That smells so good,” she said, stepping out of the bathroom. She’d put her hair up into a high ponytail, and was wearing a Fair Isle print sweater and jeans. City girl that she was, she looked totally at home and at ease up here in the mountains.
“We can start with the cheese and fruit while the ravioli heats up,” he said, grabbing the cheese plate from the fridge and taking it into the living room. She settled herself in front of the fire, her eyes roaming around the cabin.
“I’m really, really happy to be back here,” she said softly, her eyes bright. “Like, really freaking happy. I was counting down the seconds all week.”
He grinned at her and sat down. “Me too, baby. Me too.”
They talked as they ate, the conversation flowing easily from topic to topic. Work, friends, their families. He told her about Aerin’s twins, due in June.
She took a sip of her ginger ale, studying him thoughtfully. “Do you ever see yourself having kids?” she asked, and then took a bite of her ravioli.
In any other situation, that question probably would’ve scared him, or at least had him clamming up. But being with Kayla, he could feel something shifting inside him. He felt like a lobster who was outgrowing his shell, the exterior he’d once taken shelter in becoming constricting. It took pain and vulnerability to shed that shell, but only then could he really grow.
“You know, a few months ago, I would’ve said no,” he said with a shrug. “But my future looked pretty different then than it does now.” He reached out, weaving his fingers with hers. “It’s not something I’ve thought a lot about, to be honest. But with the right person, in the right circumstances? Yeah. I think maybe I do see myself as a dad. What about you?”
“I do. Maybe only one baby. I worry about balancing parenthood with my career ambitions. But I do want to be a mom.”
A silence fell over them, heavy with meaning. He gave her fingers a squeeze and then let go. “For what it’s worth, you’ll make a great mom someday.”
She blushed and looked into the fire. “Thank you.”
The conversation veered back to safer topics, and then, as they were eating their apple pie, she tilted her head, cocking an eyebrow at him. “So…I brought the items you asked me for. A blouse and a pencil skirt and the red lipstick.” She bit her lip, her eyes bright. “What did you have in mind?”
He grinned, his cock growing heavy. “I’m not your boss anymore, but what if we pretended, just for a little while, that I was?”
A wide smile spread across her face. “You want to role play your fantasy.”
He nodded. “If you’re up for it.”
“Well, I’m already wet just thinking about it, so I’d say that’s a yes.”
He leaned forward and kissed her. “Go get changed when you’re finished eating.”
She smirked at him. “Yes sir, Mr. Prescott.”
Kayla stepped out of Sebastian’s bathroom wearing a black button-down blouse, unbuttoned low enough that the lacy top of her soft pink bra peeked through, a matching set of lacy panties under her light gray pencil skirt and a pair of black pumps. She was a little nervous about the heels with her newly healed ankle, but she had a feeling she wouldn’t be standing in them very much. She’d taken her hair down, leaving it falling around her shoulders and had slicked on her favorite red lipstick. The one Sebastian had admitted he wanted to see smeared all over his cock.
God.
A giddy thrill charged through her at the knowledge that she was very likely about to get her brains fucked out. She clenched, her lacy
panties already wet. Anticipation had her stomach fluttering.
She smiled when she took in the scene he’d created. He’d set himself up at the kitchen table, his laptop open. He’d even changed into a white button-down and olive green pants. His collar was open, just like it had usually been at work, and his sleeves were rolled up, exposing his forearms.
A sudden, intense emotion slammed into her and it took her a second to identify it. She pressed a hand against her chest as she stared at him. He wasn’t just attractive or hot. He was beautiful, physically, but on a deeper level than that too. Scars and all, he was beautiful.
It was regret knotting her belly, she realized. Regret that she hadn’t been better to him, that she’d wasted three years of her life wishing he didn’t exist. Regret that maybe, just maybe, if she hadn’t been so busy judging him, she would’ve seen below the surface.
She cleared her throat softly and stepped forward. He didn’t look up from his computer, simply calling her into his “office” with a crooked finger. He kept typing whatever it was he was typing, making her stand there, waiting. Finally, he finished and closed the laptop.
“Kayla. You wanted to see me?”
She moved forward, still standing several feet away from him. “Yes. I need your help.”
“Which project?” he asked, leaning back in his chair.
She shook her head, her hair ticking her oversensitive skin. “It’s not a project. It’s actually…it’s more of a personal problem.”
He frowned, his brows knitting together. “Is everything okay?”
She swallowed and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Um, yeah. Everything’s okay. I’ve just been having a really hard time concentrating at work lately. I can’t seem to focus.”
He rubbed a hand over his mouth. “Any idea what’s causing this? It’s not like you to be unfocused.”
She bit her lip and met his eyes. “Um. I’m not sure how to say this.”
“You can talk to me, Kayla. I’m your boss. It’s my job to make sure you have what you need to perform at your best.”
“Well, um, the problem is you.”
His eyes widened. “Me? In what way?”
She inhaled a shaky breath and moved closer to the desk. “Every day, I come in here, and I have to look at you. I have to listen to you. Sometimes, when you’re close, I can even smell you. And I can’t focus because all I can think about is you and how fucking hot you are.”
His nostrils flared and he shifted in his chair. “I see.”
“Let me show you,” she said softly and came around to his side of the desk. She moved the laptop to the side and sat down, then slowly spread her legs, the movement causing her skirt to ride up. “Look how wet you make me, Mr. Prescott. How am I supposed to concentrate on anything when I’m soaking my panties every time you’re in the room?”
She glanced down and could see that she’d indeed made a very noticeable wet spot because playing this game with him was beyond sexy. Her skin felt like it was on fire, arousal burning through her.
He made a gruff sound, his eyes dark and intense. “Mmm. That is quite the personal problem, isn’t it?” He slid a hand up her calf, over her knee and to her inner thigh, stopping several inches short of where she wanted him. “And how do you suggest I help you with this?”
She moved her panties to the side, exposing her pussy to him. “Maybe if you made me come, I’d be able to get some work done.”
He moved closer, inhaling deeply. “If I help you with this, no one can know, Kayla. This will have to be our secret.” He trailed his fingers over the seam of her thigh, brushing against her outer lips.
She sucked in shaky breath. “I promise I won’t tell anyone. I promise. Just…please make me come. Please. I can’t take this anymore.”
“Take your panties off. I don’t want anything in my way while I take care of this pretty pussy.”
Standing in front of him, she hiked her skirt up to her hips and then slipped her panties down her legs, carefully stepping out of them. He took the scrap of lace from her fingers and shoved it into his pocket.
“I’m going to hang on to these since you’ve already ruined them.” Then he reached out and gave her hip a possessive squeeze. “Up on the desk. Spread your legs for me.”
She sat on the edge of the table, leaning back on her hands, anticipation throbbing through her as he moved his chair closer.
“Please, Mr. Prescott,” she whispered, trembling with how turned on she was. “Please.”
“Please what?” he asked. He skated his palm over her wet folds, making her gasp.
“Please take care of my needy pussy so I can get some work done.”
He worked his fingers up and down her slit, spreading her moisture around and then circled her clit with agonizing slowness. She bit her lip and moaned.
“You have to be quiet, Kayla. No one can know that I’m helping you with this.” He took his fingers away from her clit and slid his palm over her again, the wet, slippery pressure of his entire hand on her exquisite.
“Okay. I’ll be quiet, I promise.”
“Good girl,” he murmured, still playing with her. “I can’t believe you’ve been walking around this wet and swollen.”
“It’s been torture,” she whispered, watching as he returned his fingers to her clit. It seemed to swell beneath his skilled touch and she clamped her mouth shut, desperately trying not to make a sound.
He leaned forward and kissed her clit, working it slowly with his lips and tongue, and it took everything she had not to scream at the sensation of his mouth on her.
“Mr. Prescott, I didn’t…” She shook her head, and he looked up at her, his mouth still on her pussy.
“You didn’t expect to show me a pussy this gorgeous, this wet and pink and think I wasn’t going to taste it, did you?”
“Does it taste good?” she asked, feigning sudden shyness.
He swirled his tongue around her clit several times before answering. “It tastes like fucking heaven, Kayla. All this sweetness just for me,” he growled, and then closed his mouth over her, kissing her deeply. She couldn’t seem to keep her hips still and she knew she wasn’t going to last much longer before her orgasm exploded through her.
He pulled away and slid two fingers inside her, fucking her slowly. Despite her best efforts, she moaned and he let out a low chuckle.
“You like having your pussy stuffed full, don’t you? Does that help with the ache deep inside you?”
“Mmmhmm,” she whimpered, her lips clamped shut. “I think about your cock inside me constantly.” She was losing herself in the fantasy, letting it mix with reality, mix with her own fantasies she’d once had about him. That twinge of regret was still there, that maybe they could’ve found their way to each other so much sooner if she’d actually seen him. Maybe she could’ve prevented his downward spiral. She knew that his problems then hadn’t been her responsibility, but now that she cared about him and knew how bad things had been, she wished she could’ve helped, somehow.
“You should’ve come to me sooner,” he said, still fucking her with his fingers. “I would’ve helped you with this as soon as it became a problem.” He pulled his fingers out and returned to her clit, massaging in deliciously wet circles. Her pussy spasmed, everything inside her tightening, twisting, burning under his touch. “How do you want to come?”
“Your mouth,” she said quickly. “Make me come with your mouth. Please. Please.” She was begging and she didn’t care.
He spread her open with his thumbs and flicked his tongue over her pulsing clit. She let out a loud moan, unable to stop herself. Her hips jerked as he sucked her clit into his mouth, the pressure inside her building. A sharp, squeezing feeling started low in her belly, and she knew she was going to come hard. He’d stopped teasing and was eating her with licks and sucks, the feeling of his tongue and lips sliding over her beautifully intense. Something inside her burst and she came, pleasure scorching through her as she screaming
his name, grinding herself against his mouth. He pulled away, slowly slicking his hand back and forth over her still convulsing pussy as she rode out the last pulses of her orgasm.
“Better?” he asked, his voice like gravel. She felt the sound of it somewhere deep inside her as it sparked fresh arousal.
“Yes, thank you,” she said breathlessly. “I think I can go back to work now.” She knew they weren’t done, but she was trying to stay in character. To give him this. To give them this.
“Not so fast,” he said, pulling his hand away. “You haven’t said thank you yet. Not properly.”
She licked her lips, swallowing. “And what does properly look like?”
“It looks like those pretty red lips stretched around my cock.”
“Yes, sir,” she practically moaned, carefully lowering herself from the table and kneeling down in front of him. She slid her hands up his muscled thighs and to his cock, hard and straining against his zipper. Her hands shook a little as she popped open the button and eased the zipper down. He rose just enough to pull his pants and boxer briefs down over his hips, freeing his cock. She reached for him, wrapping her fingers around him and squeezing. He let out a low groan that she felt in her core.
“Oh my God, Mr. Prescott,” she whispered. “You’re so big.”
“You make me so fucking hard, Kayla. Maybe you’re not the only one who’s had a difficult time concentrating.”
She hummed as she stroked him, playing with the pre-cum slicking his head. “We both need to be able to focus on work, don’t we?”
“We do. Now show me how grateful you are that I’m helping you with your problem.”
She nuzzled her face against his shaft, deliberately rubbing her lips against him and leaving a smear of red lipstick behind. “Oops. I got my lipstick on you.”
His gaze was scorching as he stared at the mark she’d left and another drop of pre-cum appeared. Lust swirled in her belly, and she leaned forward and lapped it up, the taste of him driving her nearly insane with wanting him. He wove his fingers into her hair, his grip tight.
