Touchdowns and Tiaras: The Complete Boxed Set

by Frost, Sosie

  I drove to the nightclub, leaving my car with the valet and offering my elbow for the most beautiful woman at the venue. Diva wasn’t a five-dollar-cover close to the colleges. It was class. Velvet ropes and dropped names. It thrummed sensual music and pushed forty dollar drinks.

  Leah had never been inside before, but I wasn’t leaving her to the rabble below. A man of my status earned the VIP section even before I invested in the club. I let her walk before me, admiring how her ass shimmied up the stairs. She knew it too, and each step was taken slow, deliberately, until she tucked behind the beaded curtain and overlooked the dancing below.

  She leaned over a gold railing and watched the show. Couples grinded on the dance floor while those yet unattached claimed tables in the darkness. The VIP section passed around champagne. She declined, eyes lowered.

  “I shouldn’t, in case I decide to…” She smiled. “You know. Have a procedure.”

  God, that tease. Leah stared at the club with wide eyes and peeked over the gold railing. Her hips wiggled in time to the music, subtle. Like how she’d dance in her office when she thought nobody was looking.

  But I watched. I saw. I wondered how that delicate ass would feel pressed against me.

  I stretched my arms over her, covering her hands on the railing and edging close. She tensed, but she didn’t push me away, even when I kissed the vulnerable, pulsing spot between her neck and collarbone.

  If she meant to arch into my lips, she hid it well. Her eyes closed.

  “I want you.” I didn’t have to say it. My pants trapped my cock, and I ground the hardness against her ass to the rhythm of the music. “I’d give you the best night of your life.”

  Leah didn’t push me away, but her voice challenged me just the same. “You don’t know that. Maybe I’ve had many good nights.”

  “Ever have a great one?”

  “It’s subjective.”

  “Not with me. Spend a night with me, and nothing will ever feel the same.”

  Leah smirked, enjoying the music, ignoring how my body enveloped hers. “You’re so full of yourself.”

  “Do you want to be full of me?”

  “Are you ever serious?”

  I pulled away from the railing, letting my fingers tickle her arms, her sides, her waist. “I’m always serious about good sex.”

  “Wouldn’t this be a little more than sex?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then shouldn’t we talk about this?” she asked. “Take it seriously?”

  I hadn’t lured her to the sexiest club in the city to make a damn pro/con list. I led her away from the crowd and into a secluded, shadowy part of the VIP room. We had a private dance floor, a sanctuary within the pulsing music and loose morals. Leah tangled in pink and purple shadows, drifting lights in a smoke filled and exciting club. Her red dress was not nearly as beautiful as the darkness of her skin. She was sultry and seductive, innocent and wide-eyed.

  She had to be mine.

  I held her tight. “What do you consider good sex?”

  “Doesn’t everyone have the same definition?”

  “I’m starting to think you’re more complicated.” I wrapped her tighter, encouraging her to dance. Her hips shimmied, and my cock hardened as her body moved in a perfect, sensual poetry. Never understood it before, but I gained an appreciation for it now. “What does it mean to you?”

  She bit her lip. “It’s gotta be something…more than just pleasure.”

  Her fingers tickled behind my neck. She played with my hair. Gently. Our chests bumped, and every heated touch tightened my cock.

  “Of course sex is about more than pleasure,” I said.

  “Even to you?”

  “Especially to me.” I leaned in, letting my lips graze her ear. “It’s an experience. It’s excitement. Passion. There’s no better way to demonstrate a man’s strength or skill or aggression.”

  “Aggression?”

  “Sex is all aggression. It’s a release for that suppressed wild, instinct we possess.” I nibbled her ear. “It’s animalistic.”

  She shuddered. “It’s not supposed to be.”

  “Says who?”

  Leah didn’t have an answer. She glanced up at me, her mocha eyes heavy-lidded and dark with forbidden curiosity. “What about romance?”

  “What about it?”

  “You’re describing something…feral and impersonal.”

  I leaned down, bumping my forehead with hers. “If taking my cock is impersonal, then I’ve done something wrong.”

  She looked away. I didn’t let her. The music faded to something slower, melodic, and pulsing with base. A perfect song to promise a night of pleasure.

  “Did it feel impersonal when I devoured your pussy?”

  Leah shifted, embarrassed, and she tried to pull back. She wasn’t moving that easily, not unless she was falling backward onto a bed. I kept my voice low, a secret just for her, a truth she already figured out.

  That’s what scared her the most.

  “I licked you.” My words rumbled. “Tasted you. Made you come. That wasn’t impersonal, Kiss. I got deeper inside you than anyone ever had, even that prick who left you.”

  “We shouldn’t talk about this now.” Her eyes darted across the floor, studying the few dancers in slutty dresses that might’ve caught my attention if I hadn’t been holding the most beautiful woman in the world. “Anyone can hear.”

  “So let them hear. Let them know what I plan to do to you tonight.”

  “Jack…”

  “You’re going to get fucked, Kiss. Like you’ve never been taken before. I’m going to own your body. I’m gonna fuck you until you’re raw and screaming and begging for it harder and faster. Better get used to crying out my name now. You’ll be saying it a lot.”

  “It’s not a good idea.”

  Christ, this woman. “What? Pleasure isn’t a good idea? You need to be taken. You need to be rutted on your knees. You need to feel what it’s like when you’re completely overwhelmed with passion, and the only way to escape is to surrender to your own body.”

  She trembled, staring at my lips. She wanted a kiss. Wasn’t getting it. Not until she begged.

  “You’re gonna be on your knees. You’re gonna be on your back. You can ride me while the sun comes up. I’m going to fuck you until you are exhausted, sweaty, and panting for every breath.”

  Leah’s body warmed against me. “But we’re not just having sex. We’re doing something…completely different.”

  “Yeah. That’s what makes this so exciting.” The music pulsed through me, in me. Leah felt it too, shifting close. I debated pushing her against the back wall and taking what we both wanted right then and there. My cock couldn’t handle much more of her innocence, her hidden desire. “Tonight, you’re gonna be mine.”

  She glanced over the floor, searching for anyone who might know what devilish things we promised each other. The music swelled and lights flickered, cocooning us in our own private dance in the middle of everything.

  “What about the…consequences?” Leah whispered. Her fingers dug into my arms.

  I leaned down, capturing her lips, forcing her to listen to the words I said and the ones lost in our need. A baby wasn’t a consequence. Fucking my seed into her blinded me with feral instinct and aggressive possession. The other men in the VIP room stared at the sexy woman quaking in my arms.

  They looked, and it drove me insane.

  Leah was mine.

  This woman belonged to me.

  And the only way I’d prove it to the world was if she swelled with my child.

  I kissed her, hard. “When I take you, I’m going to fuck you bare. Completely unprotected from everything except my seed.”

  “And…when you…?”

  “I’m going to come inside you. All night, Kiss. I won’t pull my cock from you once, not from the minute it sheaths in that perfect little pussy.”

  Leah shivered. Her breath released in a heated whimper, and she slowed
her dance, as though she’d fall if I weren’t holding her. But I had her. Captured her. Trapped her in my arms and pinned her against my raging cock. She pulled closer. The threat intrigued her, but she couldn’t let herself imagine all the terrible and perfect things I’d do to her body.

  Her eyes begged me for a permission that would come only from her surrender to the most natural experience in the world.

  I whispered. “You want to know if it’s okay for a good girl, a responsible girl, to want the bad boy to fuck her? To come inside of her unprotected little body?”

  She nodded. I wanted nothing more than to bite that trembling bottom lip.

  “You want to know if it’s the right thing to do, going to bed with a dangerous man? You realize what I’ll do to your body. You can imagine what will happen once my cum jets inside you…”

  I couldn’t hear Leah over the music, but I read her lips. “Yes.”

  I grinned, capturing her mouth as she melted into my arms. She surrendered to a dark and sensual desire that blinded her to the dancing, the music, the club, and the audience of people now recognizing Jack Carson and the beautiful woman he seduced in the darkness of the VIP section.

  “You want to know if it’ll make you bad if you were fucked, seeded, and taken by a man like me?”

  “Yes.”

  I lowered my voice, hungry for her wanting body.

  “Let’s find out.”

  9

  Leah

  I’d never have him inside me fast enough.

  We crashed through his house, striking the walls and upsetting paintings, slamming the door and knocking over end tables and decorations. Nothing mattered so long as we touched each other, held each other, shed shoes and clothing on the stairs.

  Jack and I fell onto his bed, arms entwined. Our mouths parted only to breathe unspoken words and draw each other closer. Our tongues flicked back and forth in a frantic blitz to prove how much we wanted this.

  I never knew I could need a man this badly.

  Not even in my wildest fantasies had I envisioned such passion. Was sex always this desperate? What I once considered lovemaking—the polite and apologetic thrusts under the sheets—was completely and utterly wrong. This was something ragged and feral. We burst upon each other in a crazed delirium.

  Jack promised the night of unrepentant pleasure.

  I believed him.

  And I longed to experience it.

  My life had been so structured, so planned, so deliberate that I never allowed myself any passion. That thrill of discovery was lost, buried under years of repression and work.

  His hands gripped my body, pulling me to him, demanding that I surrender to his kiss.

  I didn’t know this type of wild and aching sex existed.

  Jack was cocky. He was arrogant. He realized how undeniably sexy he was, but he hadn’t seduced me. I seduced myself. I owed myself one night of perfect, animalistic desire.

  Jack would give it to me—and so much more. The words he said twisted inside me, tightening everything already too raw to unbind.

  He said he’d fuck me. I wondered how it’d feel to be thoroughly ravished.

  He warned he’d take me unprotected. It only excited me.

  I craved the feeling of skin against skin. It was dangerous to fuck his bare cock. We knew what would happen. We agreed to it. We understood it.

  We wanted it.

  He’d take, he’d claim, and I’d love every second of it. This wasn’t just sex. This primal instinct blended a natural craving with submission and dominance and pleasure. The night would destroy us and create us and lose us within the lust of our own unconfined desires.

  Our clothes ripped off. Jack tossed me against his bed with such a fierce and virile pride it was like he planned this conquering from the first time he saw me.

  Did he know how reckless we’d become within each other’s arms?

  “God, I want you,” he grunted.

  “Not as bad as I want you.”

  Jack tore my panties from my legs. The dress was lost somewhere in the stairs. I waited beneath him. Naked, sweating. His lips burned my already heated skin.

  His voice pinned me to the bed. “I’ve wanted you since the first day I saw you. You’re the only damn reason I even signed a publicist.”

  “You needed me.”

  “Maybe.” He peeled his shirt off. “Didn’t you notice? Every time you rejected me, I acted out. Caused a new scandal. Fuck, Kiss. The more trouble I got in, the more often I got to see you.”

  My tummy flipped. “But you made my life miserable.”

  “You tortured me more.”

  I felt like I could be honest with him while naked. I’d reveal my body and the innermost thoughts to a man who would soon control them both.

  “You made everything so hard for me,” I said.

  Jack seized my nipples in his mouth. His lips sealed over the tip. “Speak for yourself.”

  I shivered. His tongue swirled over my nipple, hardening the bud, sucking to earn a squeal and then a moan and then a dozen more shivers.

  His hands gripped me as if I would dare to bolt. I didn’t have the strength to pull from the bed, not while he seized my nipple and suckled to watch me squirm. I demanded more of his mouth, his touch, his body. His tongue flicked over my breast and every little nip earned my squeal. He liked that. He bit harder and I tried to flinch away.

  It was useless.

  Jack was a monster of a man. Covered in tattoos. Tensing with muscle. Grinding a cock impossibly hard and frighteningly large against my leg. He flexed as he held me down, revealing the chiseled definition of his body.

  This man was a God.

  I never saw, never touched such muscle. He positioned his body over me, steady. His biceps didn’t tremble as he supported his entire weight. He leaned over me, and one thing was absolutely certain.

  He was stronger, sexier, more confident than any man had right to be.

  And he knew it.

  That was why his cock was so hard. That was why he feasted on my body, why his kisses edged from nipple to nipple. They layered a heated path from the underside of my breast to my navel. Then, finally, they descended where he had already claimed with his mouth twice before.

  I wetted for him. Too much. Embarrassingly so. I passed ready and lost myself in desperation. My hips arched to meet his mouth, and the strike of his tongue against my clit rendered me useless, weak, and rattled with shivers.

  “So sweet.” Jack murmured. He unbuckled his pants, but his lips never left my pussy. He licked and sucked and enjoyed me. “I want you to come for me.”

  God, I came every time Jack touched me. Every time I thought about him. When I fantasized about him. At night, I touched myself imagining being stripped and at his mercy. In my bed, I’d traced my fingers in my slit and imagined the stroke of my hand was his exploring tongue within my petals.

  And now I had him again, just where my body needed.

  But his tongue wasn’t enough this time. I whimpered. He understood. Jack spread my legs and surveyed my nudity. Every moment of his gaze was endless praise, and I never felt so desired.

  He licked his finger and stared at me. I gasped as he poked my slit, exploring my tight entrance. I held my breath as he pushed within me.

  “Tease…” I whispered.

  The touch only heated me more. His finger became something for my body to clench. I imagined it was his hard cock, fantasized about the torrent of cum he promised me.

  His lips wrapped around my clit as he thrust with his finger—in and out, rubbing every inch of my delicate core. He hooked his finger and teased a rough spot.

  “Fuck, you’re tight…” he growled. “Think you can fit me in this tiny pussy, Kiss?”

  “Oh, my god…” I gripped the bed. Nothing had ever felt like this before.

  Jack laughed as my body clenched him harder. My hips bucked. God, he was killing me. My hands ached to feel more than the sheets. I had to touch him, and not just his
shoulders or teasing through his hair. I hadn’t seen the trouble he packed between his legs yet.

  I deserved to know what would thoroughly destroy me when he finally took me for his own.

  I whimpered, a combination of my own desire and timid curiosity. “Can I taste you?”

  Those were the words Jack “Play-Maker” Carson lived to hear. He groaned as he pulled from my slit, but he moved fast. His pants kicked away, and he unleashed exactly what my body craved.

  His cock jutted from between his legs. Proud. Impressive.

  Almost frightening.

  The tattoos on his chest didn’t end at his hips. They wrapped around, coiled him in bands of color and words. The tribal markings swirled over his waist and edged angrily, deliberately, around his cock.

  God, what kind of man would risk a tattoo so near there?

  What man actually wanted a tattoo so close to that sensitive area?

  I knew that answer. The only man who would tattoo his cock was the playboy who planned to show it off.

  That meant I was probably in trouble.

  I was starting to like trouble.

  Jack gripped me, tossing me over his body as he rested on the bed. He aimed me for that pulsing, thickening cock as my legs straddled his head. My stomach flipped. I never exposed myself like that before.

  My fears dissolved as soon as his mouth regained his conquering of my slit. He seized my clit and enslaved me with his tongue.

  My body jerked and shook and sweated. His thick cock hardened just for me. I captured it with a tentative hand, wrapping my fingers around the solid base. There was no way he’d fit this inside me. His cock was too big, almost villainous and intimidating. I could only imagine how full I’d be once it slid into my core.

  Forced inside me.

  Rutted through me.

  I groaned and ran my tongue along the hot flesh, tracing a thick, pulsing vein and earning his gratitude. The muffled growl vibrated between my legs. His tongue slipped inside as the head of his cock popped into my mouth. The salty skin drove me wild, and I moaned like a wanton little whore over the taste of his cock.