Crown and Anchor Series: Book 1-4

by Kerri Ann

  Are you kidding me? “I didn’t kiss you. I walked away from you. I got into a fight with two girls, who obviously wanted to hump you in the hall, but I sure as shit didn’t kiss you,” I say indignantly.

  That’s when his look turns dark. “I’m not the only one who wanted it. I know you want me. You’re just scared.” Crossing his arms over his chest, he grins. It’s a scary kind of grin, showing the evil that lurks beneath. “I know your type. You’re afraid to step out of the bubble, to let others in. You keep them at a distance. Fuck, Circe, you’re an open goddamn book of how to avoid contact.”

  I swear I think my jaw hits the ground. “You don’t know me.” I poke him in the chest—a fucking tight chest, I might add. “You met me once at your trailer, and once here. You can’t say you know anything about me.” I’m riled up. Like a pissed off raccoon, cornered, wondering where the exits are. I’m ready to leave.

  Wyatt steps close to me again, and before he can open his mouth, I tell him off. “Don’t touch me. I don’t want you touching me, Mr. Crown.” Am I being truthful? No. I want his touch. If a kiss and his seductive voice are making me this wild, then what the fuck else could he do to me? But I won’t let him think he can bend me to his will.

  Smiling devilishly, he says, “Fine. I promise no touching, Ms. Maco.”

  What? Huh. I’m slightly confused and my anger deflates a bit.

  “Pardon?”

  He places his hands behind his back. “I won’t touch you. But I don’t expect you’ll want it that way forever.”

  “Shit.” I feel his heated breath whisper against my skin. Blowing out soft wisps of air along my neck, he stokes the fire within me. I feel every tingle, every movement of every hair. I feel like Wyatt is pulling every last nerve in my body to the surface. I used every last shred of better judgement left within me to push him back before, but now there’s only a small space, not enough for me to hold him at bay. There’s no clear limitations in my mind when it comes to him. I want to say yes to everything he has to offer, but I can’t.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “This isn’t the place.” Surprised by my response, I stare into his eyes. Right now, my boss’s boy toy wants me to fall under a truck and die, while Wyatt Crown wants me to be a full-blown hussy in the hallway, in full view of his family and my peers. I’ve possibly screwed my career, all because of him. So again, I push him away and he laughs.

  “You’re totally right, Siren.” He gives me a quick kiss on the cheek. “Come on.” He grabs my hand and I’m whisked through the hallway towards what I assume is the direction of his room.

  I pull away. “I’m not sleeping with you, Wyatt. You have another thing coming if you feel I’ll fall into your arms like those hussies.”

  Stopping, he turns back to me. “We’re not going to my room.”

  He takes my hand once more and pulls me through the throng of racers and families. My mind is racing. Truthfully, I don’t want to stop him, so I let him lead me wherever he wants to take me.

  As we’re nearing the end of our race, I hear Wyatt’s name being called, and I look over to see Jax Crown, Wyatt’s father. Wyatt stops mid-stride. God, if Wyatt looks half as good as his father does at that age, women will have orgasms on the spot.

  “Dad, I’ll see you at the airport in the morning, yeah?”

  Looking up at the race legend, I’m in awe as his infectious smile turns my way. “Nice to see you again, Ms. Maco,” he greets, before turning back to Wyatt. “Don’t be late for the plane, son. You know how your mother is with punctuality.”

  Wyatt smiles and nods to his father, then tugs on my hand. I must have the most incredulous look on my face as Wyatt drags me along. I can’t believe I’m even considering doing this. I must be mad, or desperate for attention.

  “Which way, Circe?” he asks without turning my way.

  “Which way, what?” Knowing what he wants is fine, but I’m not giving in that easy.

  “Which way to your room? Don’t make me ask twice.”

  “Or what? Will you make me regret it?” I feel indignant and happily aggressive towards his request.

  He pushes me up against the wall. “I’ll show you what happens when you don’t listen to my requests, Siren.”

  Pushing his lips tightly to mine, the kiss is rough, sensual, and needy as our tongues tangle. The light stubble on his face scratches against my lips, making me more aware of him. Breaking away, breathing heavily and grinning like a fool, he says, “Fuck me. You taste like heaven.” Staring into his eyes, I fall apart after such a simple thing, and I’m immeasurably weak in the knees from his kiss.

  “Now, where to, Siren?”

  Without thought, I direct him to the left. Wyatt motions for me to move ahead of him, leading the way as I fumble in my clutch for the flimsy keycard.

  Earlier, the steps felt like a million miles away as I was dragged to the venue, dreading being in a room full of sponsors, friends, and enemies. Now, it feels so close as we arrive at the locked door in seconds. Shoving the card into the slot, I impatiently wait for the green light to appear and quickly turn the handle. Pushing inside, I attach the ‘do not disturb’ sign to the outside knob while Wyatt flicks the on the light switch.

  “There’s more to you than you show. Am I right, Ms. Maco?”

  Yes, he is. I hide everything I am. But he’s not about to find that out after a few pretty smiles and languid kisses. “I’m like everyone else here, Mr. Crown. I show my mask, hiding the truth of the matter.”

  The expression on his face acknowledges the comment as a truth to him too. I’m thinking there’s more to Wyatt than what the world knows as well.

  As the door closes with a resounding thud, he cages me up against it. There’s no stopping this now, no matter how bad of an idea it is.

  “Siren,” he breathes out. He’s damaging me with only words, air, and his mouth. Once his hands enter the picture, I’ll be good and fucked.

  Incoherent thoughts race through my mind. Every time I’ve watched him on the track, popped up his newsreels, thought about him when I shouldn’t is all I can think about. Tomorrow the dream will end, and I’ll wake up alone after a self-induced orgasmic hangover.

  Those same dreams will become pale and colorless compared to the real thing.

  Pressing his body against mine, I find myself so turned on I could implode. Yes, I was mentally finished in the hallway when he gripped my hips, kneading the soft flesh, crushing my iron will right out of me. I was falling for his charm.

  Right now, I’m falling further into his orbit.

  “Hmm,” Wyatt murmurs against my collarbone. “Let my fingers roam. Let me caress your soft silken pussy. I promise, you’ll enjoy it.”

  I consider it. Oh, do I consider it. “Wyatt, if you’re so brilliant with your skills, I’m sure you can do wonders without lifting a single finger.”

  Raising his head to look at me, his deadly smirk returns.

  “I can do wonders with my mouth too.” Shit.

  I asked for this, right? What have I gotten myself into?

  Moving his mouth to the exposed skin near the neckline of the dress, he trails one soft kiss after another. Nipping the skin above my breast, I squeal slightly as he laughs deep. “Let’s see how you hold out, Siren. I bet you’ll be asking for my hands in no time.”

  Pulling at the edges with his teeth, he massages the top of my breast with his mouth while resting his hands on the door. “In this dress you’re the goddess herself, reborn. Actually, out of it, you’d be fantastic, my deadly sea goddess. Let’s get you to step out of this dark and dangerous dress.”

  “It’s peach chiffon, Wyatt. It’s not really dark, or dangerous,” I breathe out as his mouth roams. I’m caged in against his hard frame and I don’t wish to move, no matter how ridiculous this seems. I should want this to end after the women I’d seen today, but I can’t.

  “On you it is, Siren.”

  “Wyatt,” I whisper, sounding needy.

&nbs
p; “Siren.” Wyatt pulls his lips away, dragging the word out slowly. I’m starting to like this nickname. The way he says it makes the word sounds dangerous, tantalizing, and erotic, increasing my arousal. “You drew me in the moment I saw you. You’re beautiful, Circe, and I don’t say that easily to anyone.”

  Dragging his mouth over the soft material of the dress once again, I can’t help but enjoy the teasing. I’m afraid I’ll owe Carli a dress, but I have a hard time giving a shit right now.

  Travelling lower and lower down my body, I press my back into the door, becoming one with it. My breathing hitches. Rubbing up against the material, he says, “Tell me, Circe, or this torture will only increase.”

  Man. Decisions, decisions. His talented mouth or talented touch? “How can a girl decide with all these distractions.”

  “Well, I’d decide soon, Siren.” As he dips his frame, lowering himself down my body, he raises the dress with his head. It lifts and bunches, laying across his forehead, and as I feel his tongue dart out to lick the top of my hipbone, I squirm in delight.

  “Oh my God!” I say in a rush.

  Nipping the edge of my panties, he pulls them away from my body. “Last chance, Circe,” he murmurs as his mouth is tied up in the material. I stay stubbornly silent.

  Jerking his head fast, my tiny, almost paper-thin panties tear away. I feel him laugh against my skin as the faint material floats down one leg. “You had your chance. Now it’s all on my terms.”

  His terms? Shit. Fucking booze. Fucking desire. Dammit, I’m an idiot. I find that my fantasies about this have been all too realistic and I’m afraid to stop it.

  His tongue travels along my sensitive skin, towards my pussy. I forget to breathe. As he delves his tongue within my folds, I gasp.

  “Fuck!” I curse as his mouth closes over my lips as his tongue explores and taunts my most sensitive and aroused clit. Continuing his assault, I try to remind myself to breathe in and out. I’m about to become a puddle on the floor.

  Humming his satisfaction against my skin, I feel crazy, tensing as I enjoy such talent. I’m so close to release. Wyatt must feel it too as he pauses, removes his mouth, then rocks back on his heels. “I know you’re about to come. Tell me what I want to hear, Circe, or I’ll leave.”

  I don’t believe him.

  Looking down, I see the mischief in his eyes.

  Actually, I do. “You wouldn’t, would you?”

  Rising to his full height, I’m mesmerized by his fluid motion. Coming eye to eye with me, he plants his hands on the wall with a slap.

  “Circe,” is all he says. Removing his hands, he crosses his arms across his chest and steps back until his legs hit the edge of the bed. He doesn’t speak, but he keeps his intense gaze on me.

  We have a stalemate, and if I keep this up, I’m the one in for the loss. I know it. His hands are going to be the death of me, but what a beautiful death it would be. Holding the silence a moment longer, I finally give in.

  Walking forward, I stand only inches away from him. “Wyatt, I give you permission to touch me.”

  “About fuckin’ time.” That smooth devilish smile reaches all the way to his eyes.

  He’s immediately on me.

  Placing his hands on my head, he tugs me within his embrace as we push and pull at each other. Tasting myself on him, our tongues dance, vying for control as our teeth click with the force. If only his lips were elsewhere on my body again. It wouldn’t take much for me to go off.

  Running my hands along the inside of his open shirt, I can’t believe the feel of his soft skin and hard muscles. All I wanted earlier was to taste every single plane of his laser cut abs, the one’s I’ve only seen in pictures or through his shirt. Everything about him calls to me. I want to explore him from top to bottom, but my mind is screaming that this is wrong…sooo wrong. But I can’t stop. My desire has taken over everything.

  “Fucking heaven,” he mutters into my mouth as he caresses my body, drawing lazy circles over my hips.

  Pressing my body further into him, his hands begin to slide the sides of my dress up. I want so badly to remove it myself, but I want him to tease me. I want him inside of me, now, but I want him to seduce me. I want to see his want for me in the way he touches and looks at me. I selfishly want everything. I want all of him.

  Deciding I can’t be the only one naked, I begin to unbutton the rest of his loose shirt. Pulling the knot of his tie, I slowly pull it from his neck and lay it seductively against my chest. Then, pushing his shirt over his shoulders, I finally get to see his hair-free, yet scarred chest. They’re puckered and dotted like a road map. His body is like a gladiator of old, but with modern war wounds from his mechanical battles—the war with the road. He has dings and dents, just like his bikes, and as I touch the skin on his chest, he watches me explore. If I thought I had any hope in hell of passing unscathed from him once he gave me permission to call him by his name, I was sorely mistaken and playing myself for a fool. There is no way I’m running from this. I’d ran into it head first hours ago.

  “You’re gorgeous,” I say. “Is there a fault in you?”

  “I’m flawed, Circe. It’s just that. Not all my scars are visible on the outside.” Knowing the truth of that, feeling it deep within, I nod my understanding and continue my exploration.

  Wyatt pulls the shoulder straps on my dress low, hemming in my arms. Stoking the already heated fire within me, he kicks off his shoes as I continue to feather my fingers over every mark and scar. I look up at his face, but he looks confused, like he doesn’t understand my exploration and adoration of his body.

  “Circe, where have you been?”

  What an odd question, I think, but I answer anyway. “I don’t know. I guess it just wasn't the right time to meet.”

  His eyes light up. Lovingly placing his hands against the sides of my neck, he kisses on my cheeks, my nose, my forehead, and finally my lips.

  “Turn around,” he commands. Doing as I’m told, without argument, I turn and give him my back. At first, he does absolutely nothing, even though I can feel his eyes on me. I feel a tight ache low in my belly that increases the longer I stand here. It’s excruciating. It’s that slow unknown moment that’s both lovely and painful as I wait. I’ve never had a moment like this—sex like this—with taunting and teasing, but I think it will be hard to return to soft and gentle love after this. This will ruin me.

  “I’ll go slow with you. I doubt you’ve had someone like me.” He flicks the zipper on my dress. Feeling every muscle in my body tense, my core is acutely aware of him as I anticipate what’s to come. There’s such a strong need for him to rush this moment, but Wyatt slowly draws the material down, pulling it off my body, exposing my heated skin bit by agonizing bit.

  “Nothing good is rushed.” He pants over my shoulder blade, kissing and nipping my skin.

  “I don’t have anywhere to be,” I reply. Worrying my lip between my teeth, he growls.

  “Siren, don’t punish those. They’re mine.” Wrapping his hands around to caress my tiny breasts, he slowly tears the adhesive bra away. I suck in a deep breath, waiting for the painful flick that never comes. After its removed, I want more. No wonder those girls were lining up for a turn.

  Turning to face him, I reach out to touch him. I want to see him naked in all his God-given glory, writhing in the throes of ecstasy. Every time I thought about him, as I brought myself to the end of every orgasm, I never envisioned this. This still doesn't seem real. I'm scared it's a dream I'll wake from, sweating and alone, and with just my hand and pinkie to keep me company.

  “Thank you for turning. Now I can give these the attention they deserve.” He begins to lick, nip, and stroke my hardened nipple, rolling it with his tongue, then moves to the other one, giving it the same attention. The feel of him humming his satisfaction is erotic and sinful. Taking his hands from my chest, but not removing his mouth, he lightly feathers his fingers across my sternum. Knowing where he’s going, my body tightens
up, ready for it.

  Having enough of not touching him, I reach out myself. Running one hand through his hair, I reach down with the other and lightly brush my fingers under the waist of his pants, desperate to feel his length.

  “I’ve had enough slow, Wyatt. Show me what you need. I doubt it’s this. Fuck me, please.” I undo his button and pull down on the zipper easily. Finally, I reach inside and touch the prize I want so badly. Resting above the band of his boxers is his glistening, hardened cock. Taking it in hand, I grip his heated, wide, and very long shaft.

  Wyatt hisses, then shudders as he tries to stand still. He’s enjoying this tantalizing pain of holding back our needs just as much as I am. While I stroke him slowly in my palm, it stiffens further.

  Rolling his head on his shoulders, he moans. “I’ll come apart in minutes if you keep that up. I wanted to fuck you so bad earlier, I’ve been hard all day.” Moving to pull my hand back, he halts my retreat. “So please, don’t stop.”

  His body stiffens as I take him in my hand once more and move up and down, stroking him. Pulling slowly, tightening and loosening, I feel him ache with a need to release. I want to taste his cum. I want his cock filling my mouth, pulsing against my inner cheeks. I’m not normally that girl, but it’s tantalizingly soft and lusciously hard as it slides hotly within my hand. Looking down, I take in the bead of precum sliding down the slit. Standing there naked in every way, torn down to the barest need of sexual release, every movement of his hands on my breasts brings me closer to my own demise. I’m so wet. I swear if he touches my pussy right now, I’ll be done.

  “Circe,” he moans again. Loving the sound of my name on his lips, I lean forward and gently nip the edge of his bottom lip. “More. Tighter.” Tightening my grip on his hardened length, I adjust my hand to increase the pace. As I stroke him faster, holding him tighter, he lets out a wild growl. Gripping and stroking his cock even harder than I think is comfortable, he smiles, sucking in a breath through his tight teeth.