by Kim Karr
He grits his teeth. “You practically invited me into your bed; I think it should have come up.”
“I did no such thing.”
“You did, and you know it.”
“Even if I did, you obviously weren’t interested, since you left me like a dime-store hooker the minute your dick wagged in another direction,” I snap back.
Clearly frustrated, he runs a hand through that beautiful hair of his. “My brother called me over, for Christ’s sake. When I went back for you, you were gone. I looked around and couldn’t find you.”
Avoiding his eyes, I pick at the chips on my purple nail polish. “You didn’t look that hard, obviously, because you’ve been right here practically eye-fucking this little tart.”
“Jealous,” he says with a smirk.
I straighten my shoulders. “I don’t do jealous.”
He pulls me even closer, and I can feel the burn of his stare. I don’t dare look for fear that I will forever be trapped in his inferno.
Because to be honest, the room is still looking a little green. And yes, I know the lights are purple.
No. Never mind.
It’s just hot.
Too hot.
The whiskey was strong. It went to my head. Everything is too bright and pulsing and my heart is beating way too fast.
“So…what do you say the three of us dance?” Francesca asks when she wheels back around.
Saved by the floozy.
Keen and I look at each other.
Francesca sips her something-fruity concoction and then sets it down on the railing. “Come on. I really like this song.”
Suddenly dancing is all I want to do. “Sure, why not,” I say with a nod and let Francesca lead the way.
He can come or not. I don’t care. I look over my shoulder. Yep, he’s right behind me. And yes, I did care.
The three of us hit the dance floor just as Taylor Swift’s “I Knew You Were Trouble” begins its distinctive beat.
Two Swift songs in one night.
How awesome.
She’s so my jam.
And this song couldn’t be more fitting.
The crowd surges around us, bouncing, thrusting, wiggling, grinding. Keen is in the middle. Someone is right behind me and I’m pressing my front to Keen’s back as he dances with Francesca. I can see her face over his shoulder, but it’s me she’s staring at, not him.
I let the music push and pull me, closing my eyes for a moment when the swirl of purple lights threatens to make everything spin. When I open my eyes Keen is moving, and soon he’s behind me with his hands on my hips. Francesca is in front of me, arms in the air, moving to the beat.
I toss my head to the right, and then to the left. Brooklyn is on the other side of the floor, dancing with the two other women I saw him with earlier.
Threesomes seem to be the theme of the night.
Expectation hums in the air as warm bodies jostle. Moving to the beat. Up. Down. Sideways. Soon my body is straining against Keen’s. I can feel the feral atmosphere around us spinning like whirlwinds at my sides, intoxicating me even more.
Tossing my arms up in the air like Francesca, I turn around and find Keen staring at me, his blue eyes dark, lashes thick, lids low. All I can do is stare back. Stare at that strong body hidden under the fine fabric of his white shirt. The way his muscles flex and move with every step. And then he turns to the beat and my eyes land on his tight ass, like forbidden fruit hidden beneath his fine slacks.
Francesca reaches around me for Keen, pressing her chest against my back and leaving it there. She might think this is going to turn into a threesome, but she has another thing coming.
It is so not happening that way.
I don’t share.
If he wants her, that’s fine, but he doesn’t get us both.
Well, it’s not fine, but you know what I mean.
Just then Keen grabs my hips in the tightest of holds, and as Taylor blares her vocals about how she knew he was trouble, I can’t help but feel the same.
His hands roam up my body and so do Francesca’s. His on my back and hers up my front.
An erotic sandwich that I’m not really digging.
My hair is up and when Keen’s hands reach my neck, he tugs the clip out. Straight blond locks tumble down around my shoulders, and he strokes his fingers through them for one moment, and that one moment shows the desperation in his stare.
Francesca’s fingers scratch across my arm and are now in my hair as well.
Ignoring her, I rise on tiptoes and whisper in his ear. “The date with your brother was just fake. For Cam and Makayla’s benefit. They’re into matchmaking lately.”
Keen’s expression is impassive for a second. “Does he know that?”
My palms linger on his chest and I can feel the rapid beat of his heart. “He does. I don’t deny that he has a little crush on me, but he is very clear there is nothing between us.”
Keen looks down at my hands on his chest, and then over to his brother, who has four hands all over him. “Just a crush. Nothing more?”
My fingers squeeze at the muscles beneath the white fabric of his shirt, and then I nod to his brother leaving the dance floor with a woman on each arm. “Nothing more.”
Just then Francesca taps me on the shoulder. Trying not to be annoyed, I turn just enough to face her. We are so close I can almost count the number of beads of clear glue sticking her false lashes to her lids. Just being real.
Noticing my stare, she bats those lashes at me.
Never having been in a situation like this, I do the only thing I can and smile at her.
In a total and unexpected move, she lurches forward with her entire body and kisses me.
Stunned, I stop dancing. I stop moving. I stop breathing. And my lips remain perfectly still. I’ve never kissed another girl before and honestly I was only playing around. I had no intention of making this a real threesome.
“No?” Francesca says, pulling away.
I shake my head, and then my eyes shift to Keen’s, who looks like he’s not breathing either. And I’m pretty certain it’s shock. I’m not getting any vibe that he is turned on in the least.
Francesca looks at me. She looks at Keen. She’s not a stupid girl and I think she figures out what’s going on fairly quickly. And then, like I need another matchmaker in my life, she tugs Keen by the wrist until he’s face-to-face with me. “Have a great night,” she says and dances herself right off the dance floor.
My fingers go to my lips. “She kissed me,” I say out loud in shock.
The bass thumps its pulse in the pit of my stomach and the crowd surges around me like they have no idea what just happened.
“It should have been my lips.” Keen’s voice is warm, hot, sex on a stick.
And then his lips are on mine. Moving, probing, licking, sucking. And then his hands are in my hair and his fingers are at the base of my skull, tipping my head back to get better access to my mouth.
Without realizing it we are in motion again and my hands are on his chest, tugging at the fabric to bring him closer. As if he wants that too, his hands slide down my body to the small of my back and he pushes me against him.
Dancing still.
Smooth.
Easy.
And then, oh God, his cock is pressed against me. Hard, just like his kiss, and yet his lips are so soft. Hard and soft. Hard and soft. I can feel an ache building between my thighs, and something that sounds a lot like a gasp eases out of my throat.
Sliding his mouth to my ear, he whispers, “Come home with me.”
I lean back, watching as the purple lights from above glitter in his eyes and somehow magically erase the memory that the girl with red lips kissed me. Yes, that seems to be completely overtaken by the memory of Keen’s hot, wicked mouth.
He smiles at me. A man accustomed to being watched and no doubt used to getting his way. In me, though, he’s met his match, and I wait a heartbeat or two to answer him.
&n
bsp; When I can’t take another minute without his mouth on mine, I nip at his lip and tell him, “I have a room here.”
Fast as sin, he grabs my hand and leads me through the crowd.
And the whole time, all I can think about is how I really like the feel of his hand in mine. Too bad he lives on one end of the country and I live on the other.
Everyone knows long-distance relationships never last.
Right?
3
SUPERMAN
Maggie
There are socially acceptable behaviors for almost everything we do, and not so socially acceptable behaviors too.
For example, we all know that you don’t eat in a bank. You don’t talk in a library. And you don’t kiss in an elevator—unless you can’t take one more minute without the other person’s hot lips on yours, the feel of his hands all over you, or if the press of his body is something you can’t live without for another second.
Then you kiss in the elevator.
And I’m so going to kiss him.
The air crackles as Keen approaches me. He crosses from the right to the left, where passengers who have finally all exited the elevator had pushed me upon their entry. Separating us. Causing a pull neither of us can deny.
The walls inside are covered in mirrors, just like in the club, and I watch him from all angles as he pounces like a predator on the prowl. And then he is standing in front of me looking like he wants to devour me, and his hands are on me, and I swear I can’t find the air to breathe.
He’s possessive.
Greedy.
Dominating.
His fingertips trail over the middle of my thighs as he moves in between my legs and bends to brush his lips near my ear. “Kiss me,” he breathes, hot and heavy.
Control is a thing I always have—in my life, and with men. I say when, where, and how. I don’t succumb to orders, from anyone.
So I don’t know if it’s the fact that I’m buzzed, or that this man is some kind of crazy aphrodisiac, but I don’t give a damn about control right now.
Almost ferociously, I grab hold of his face and pull him to me so I can crash my lips to his hungry mouth. And then he takes over. Moving his lips, thrusting his tongue, and demanding all I have to give.
Soon the kiss is out of control—wild and hurried and frantic.
Pressing me against the elevator wall, his heat seeps through my body, but I shiver nonetheless when his hands slip under the hem of my dress.
Roaming, his fingers drift around to my bare ass, my thong providing absolutely no coverage over my cheeks. “Oh, fuck.” Keen sucks in a breath when he feels the naked skin of my ass, and his hands continue to roam even more hurriedly. Up. Down. Like he can’t get enough of me, fast enough.
Running.
Soothing.
Pressing.
Owning.
Thrilled by his physical reaction to my body, I bask in the feel of his rough, callused hands all over me. After lifeguarding, the one thing I know about myself for certain is that I am in good shape—no, not only good shape, great shape.
His free hand is around my neck and holding me in place. And the feel is so thrilling I can’t figure out where to put my hands on his body first, so I let him dominate me.
Soon, though, I find myself wanting to feel his skin equally as much as he wants to feel mine. To satisfy my need, I tug his shirt from the confines of his pants and try to push him back so I can run my hands up the smooth muscles of his chest.
Letting me push him only so far, Keen stops us in the middle of the elevator, looks at me with those blue eyes that have grown so dark, and then takes one of my hands and places it on the bulge of his erection.
I gasp in excitement at his alpha power play. I find it to be a thrill and a rush.
His terms.
I may explore his body on his terms.
I get it.
And I will go along with his rules—for now.
Slowly, he presses my hand more firmly against him and then he leans forward to speak into my ear. “Feel what you do to me? And we’re not even in your room yet.”
Right then I’m not sure I can stand on my own—my knees go weak and I swear the earth moves under my feet. I close my eyes and curve my hand over him. His pants are smooth under my fingers and beneath them I can most definitely feel his erection. I gasp again as he grows harder, hotter, beneath my touch.
His hand goes around to my neck and it tightens. “Do you, Maggie? Do you feel how much I want you?”
With a nod, I trace the outline of his huge cock.
Yes. Yes. Yes, I feel it.
The door dings open before I can come up with a suitable reply, other than heavy breathing and nodding, that is. Keen straightens, pulling me behind him immediately until he has a chance to make certain we are alone. Doesn’t want others to see me undone, I guess.
Luckily, no one is in sight.
With our lips attached, we make our way down the hall. He stops to push me up against the wall and feel my breasts. I pause to pull him to me so I can finally run my hands over every ripple and hard muscle of his torso.
All this pushing and pulling makes it take at least three times too long to get to my room, but it is so worth it.
At the door, I fumble for my card key in my purse.
His hand makes its way inside the top of my dress and he starts to thumb my nipple. “I love that you don’t have a bra on.”
Searching for my damn key still, I am momentarily distracted by the beat, beat, skip of my heart.
Oh God, now his teeth are grazing my skin where he’s pushed my hair aside and his other hand is resting on my hip.
Searching is futile because this is my heart—Skip. Beat. Beat. Beat. Skip. Beat. Beat. Beat. Skip.
His mouth is just above my shoulder and he’s sucking my skin between his teeth, the tip of his tongue circling against it. His one hand is still on my breast and now the other has slid from my hip to between my legs.
I need to search harder, and I do. More frantically even. My fingers are trembling, but finally I feel the slick plastic under my fingertips. “Here it is,” I say, holding it up.
Keen’s hands are off me and he snatches it right up. Probably better, because he makes fast time of swiping it. The light turns green and the door unlocks.
In this one fleeting moment, a thought passes through my mind. I know lust. I know desire. I know arousal. What I don’t know is what else this is between us. All three, or something completely different?
It’s just a momentary thought that eases from my mind the minute the door swings open and we push through it without moving apart.
We’re already past the hallway and in the room before the door clicks shut. And our hands are everywhere even faster.
An air of desperation weaves its way between us and he pushes me up against the wall to cage me in with his strong body, and then his body is up against mine. Dropping his head, his mouth is on my chest, just above the fabric of my dress, and he’s sucking hard, hard enough to leave his mark, and I don’t care.
Friction.
Hard.
Soft.
Delicious.
When he works his lips up my chest, he stops at my neck and bites a little harder. I cry out in sheer pleasure.
The hiss I get in response isn’t to be missed, and it’s then that he tilts my chin to look at him, to meet those blazing blue eyes. “I don’t know if you are an angel or the devil, but you’re too goddamn sexy for words.”
I turn my head to bring my mouth close to his ear. “Why don’t you find out?”
The movement happens so fast. One second I’m on the ground, the next I’m in his arms, wrapping my legs around him, pressing my chest to his, and then my feet are back on the ground and standing in front of the bed.
“I can’t wait another minute, Maggie. I need to be inside you right now.” His voice has grown thick with so much desire I swear it’s oozing sex.
Maggie. My name on his lips makes
my stomach jump nervously.
His hands move so fast. One second the spaghetti straps to my stretchy camisole dress are up on my shoulders, the next they’re down, and his hands are on my breasts for the shortest of moments, as if he just needed a little touch.
And then my dress is off, and Keen is hissing in my ear and cursing that one delicious word over and over. As I rip his shirt buttons open in haste, I hear one spring against the wall.
Oh well.
Rapidly, I move to his belt. He doesn’t stop me. He’s too busy running his hands down the sides of my body and back up. Undoing his belt, I shove his pants and boxers down at the same time.
By the time I step out of my dress already pooled at my feet, undo my damn booties and take them off, and then slide my panties down, he’s already toed his shoes off, removed his pants and boxers, and tossed a condom on the bed.
I look up just in time to see him standing tall, to see his body revealed to me. Blinded by the perfection, I make a small, helpless noise of appreciation. I can’t stop myself. Everything about him is just so beautiful. His skin is smooth, his body void of any hair everywhere from the neck down, and I mean everywhere. And his delicious cock is thick, long, and very ready.
Everything moves so fast once again. His hands are on my hips and he’s pulling me against him as his mouth finds my throat. “Once I fuck you, then I’m going to explore every part of this gorgeous body and taste every inch of you.”
Gasping without words once again, all I can think is I am good with that.
Licking up my neck, his mouth fuses to mine and we fall to the bed in a tumble.
Caught in the net of passion and web of desire, the only thing that matters is what is about to come.
Body to body.
Skin to skin.
Heartbeat to heartbeat.
Never losing our connection, Keen effortlessly manages to move our bodies to the head of the bed. Once I’m resting on one of the pillows, he rears back and looks down at me.
The predator on the prowl.
Competent.
Strong.
Ready.
Without thought, I reach down to touch him, feel him, but he’s already twisted around and is expertly ripping open the condom package and stroking the latex down to his base.
