Crazy, Stupid Sex (4 page)

It was wrong that it got her hot. But it did. “Yes. I don’t think you want to hurt me, not really. And I don’t want you to
hurt
me, hurt me. But…sex tip number twelve.”

“Care to let me in on that?”

She extricated herself from his arms and pulled her phone out of her purse and pulled up the document, scrolling down to the aforementioned tip. He read it. “Hair pulling, eh?”

“Yes.”

He reached behind her head, wrapping his fingers around her hair, pulling it all into his grasp before winding it around the back of his hand and forcing her to tilt her head back. The position left her vulnerable, her throat exposed to him, a little tingle of pain prickling over her scalp.

“Like this?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, her voice a whisper.

“I wouldn’t have thought you were that kind of girl,” he said, leaning in, pressing his lips to the tender skin of her neck.

“Me neither. We surprise ourselves. Oh!” He bit her again, tugging a little harder on her hair as he did.

“Good?”

“Yes. But I think I need you to touch me. I’m…I’m…” She was about to come and he’d never even touched her breasts.

He kissed her again, this time tender. Soft. A line of sweet kisses that stood at odds with the firm grip he had on her hair. The contrast was intense. Intoxicating.

She thought she might melt into a puddle. Just before her knees gave out, he pushed her back against the wall. It was hard behind her, his body hot in front of her, his chest pressed against hers.

He released her hair, slid his hands down her arms and lifted them over her head, his grip strong on her, holding her in place. Captive.

“You want me to touch you?” he asked.

He kept her prisoner with one large hand, lowering the other and drawing his finger over her lips, tracing the outline of them.

“Yes,” she said, desperate now. There was nothing teasing or humorous on his face now. All the light and fun was gone, burned away by a deep intensity that echoed inside her.

“Not yet,” he said. “I’m going to make you wait.”

She arched her back, bringing her aching breasts more firmly against his chest, looking for some relief from the pounding need that was roaring through her blood. She didn’t know if she could survive this. And all he’d done was kiss her.

All he was doing was holding her now, his hand tight on her like an iron cuff, his eyes intent on hers.

That was all. And yet she felt like she was on the edge of orgasm. Desperate. Shaking. The nerves were gone now. Replaced by desire and curiosity.

“You put me in charge,” he said, “and that might be a decision you regret.”

The rough edge of his voice whispered over her skin, leaving goosebumps behind. “Somehow I doubt that.”

“So trusting, baby,” he said, cupping her chin, holding her.

“Are you trying to scare me?”

“No. Am I?”

“No. You’re turning me on.”

“Good,” he said. “That’s what I was going for.”

“What else you got?”

Then his hand was back in her hair, her arms freed, his thumb and forefinger still on her chin. He pulled her head back, and kissed her lips, her mouth open to him as he delved deep.

He pulled away. “What do you have under your dress?”

“What?”

“Panties? No panties?”

She thought about the red lace thong she’d put on earlier. She’d dressed for success, as one of the tips to land a man had suggested. Feel sexy all over and you’ll look sexy all over. Or something.

She lifted the hem of her dress. “These.”

He looked down at the lace, framing the V at the apex of her thighs more than they concealed it. “I like them. A lot. But I think right now they have to go.”

He hooked his fingers in the waistband of the underwear and drew them slowly down her legs, his body following the motion until he was on his knees in front of her.

“Got any sex tips for me while I’m down here?” he asked, leaning in, his breath hot on her.

Oh…jeez.
A total stranger was eye level with the most intimate part of her. And she was more excited than embarrassed, which was epic in its amazingness.

“I’ll get back to you. I can’t reach my cell phone right now. And I can’t think, either.”

“I think I can improvise.” He leaned in, parting her gently with his fingers and flicking his tongue over her clit.

She put her hands flat on the wall behind her, curling her nails against the smooth plaster as he slid his tongue over her slick flesh.

“Spread your legs,” he said, his tone demanding. And she had no reason to disobey.

He cupped her butt, blunt fingertips pressing into her skin as he licked her, sucked her, his tongue sliding deep inside her.

She laced her fingers through his hair, holding him to her. Using him to keep her from melting into a puddle.

He tugged her hard against his mouth as he continued to assault her with pleasure. She was so close…so close.

Then he moved his hand, slid his fingers between her thighs and slipped one finger deep inside her. The penetration combined with his tongue’s expert movements pushed her over the edge.

She was dizzy. Her blood pounding through her, her head fuzzy.

Then he was kissing her. She could taste herself on him. Her desire, her loss of control, coating his lips, turning her on all over again. A reminder of what he had done for her.

As if she needed a reminder when her body was still on fire.

“We’ll make it to the bed later,” he said, tugging his shirt over his head, revealing toned, defined muscles she’d rarely seen outside of a magazine. She lived in Southern California and still, bodies as fine as his were hard to come by.

“Okay,” she said, sure she sounded a little bit dim but not really caring.

“I need you,” he growled, kissing her hard while he worked to free himself from his pants. “Now.”

He shoved her dress up to her stomach and hooked her thigh up over his hip. “Shit.”

“What?”

He abandoned her for a moment, taking his wallet out of his back pocket before shoving his pants all the way down to the floor and kicking them aside. It took her a moment to realize what he was doing because her eyes were glued to his erection.

He was a very, very big man.

Just one more way he bested her ex. By inches. Which in this case counted for a lot.

He took a condom out of his wallet, then looked at her, smiling when he saw just where she was looking. He rolled on the protection, the smug smile not fading.

She had the belated thought that she should maybe try to look bored or something, but that ship had clearly sailed. She wasn’t bored. She was hotter than hell. She couldn’t wait to have him inside her.

“Now,” she said.

He resumed the position they’d been in just before he’d gotten the condom, testing her entrance with the head of his cock, pushing inside her slowly, the tendons in his neck standing out. He looked as though it was taking every ounce of his control to keep from coming.

And nothing had ever looked hotter.

He braced his hand on the wall as he filled her to the hilt, stretching her, a small grunt escaping his lips, a matching one on hers.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said, panting. “I’ve just never…not with anyone this…”

“You’re okay?” he asked, genuinely concerned now.

“If you stop, I’ll kill you.”

“I’m not going to stop.” He moved against her, his pelvis coming into contact with her clit, sending a spike of pleasure through her.

“Good,” she said, rocking against him.

He pulled back, then thrust back into her, hard, the motion hitting all the right places. She’d never had sex like this. Against a wall, unable to wait to get to a bedroom. Unable to wait for her partner’s next thrust, for him to be deep inside her again.

Every time he moved away from her she wanted to pull him straight back, and every time he plunged back into her she wanted to cry out from the pleasure. She did cry out. A lot.

He put his hand on the back of her head, closed his fingers into fists, tugging hard, the pain mingling with her pleasure, so much sensation she felt like it was too much to contain inside of her.

Then he bent down and kissed her neck, his lips warm and soft, followed by a slow scrape of his teeth and the soothing heat from his tongue, just as he thrust back into her. And then the world shattered, her orgasm bursting through her. She dug her nails into his back, his hard muscles tensing beneath her fingertips as he lost himself in his own pleasure.

Afterward they stood there, panting, bodies slick, her hands shaking.

“Well,” he said, his breathing fractured, “it’s a damn good thing we have all night.”

Chapter Four

Caleb Anderson wasn’t bored anymore. Evie, Evie James, had blown his fricking mind.

He’d been right about one thing—he couldn’t have predicted this. He couldn’t have predicted her. This wasn’t that smooth-practiced seduction. With a strip tease from him, one from her, knowing smiles and smooth movements.

This had been something raw, something elemental that he hadn’t expected. Or particularly wanted. This went past “pleasant diversion” and into something else entirely.

But it was only for a night, and they had all night.

He wondered if he would survive. More to the point, he wondered if his dick would survive.

He opened his mouth to say something along the lines of
let’s take this to the bedroom
which was The Line for moments like this, but for some reason, it didn’t come out.

Because she was there, flushed pink, rumpled and half-naked looking like she’d just walked through a hurricane. And it grabbed his words and pushed them back down like a gale force.

“Get into the bedroom.” That was what came out instead.

Her eyes widened, her lips a perfect little O.

“Did you still want me to call the shots or not?”

She nodded slowly. “Yes.”

“Then get your pretty ass into the bedroom. Now.” She took one step forward and he realized she didn’t know where she was going. “Walk in front of me,” he said. “I’ll tell you where to go.” She nodded slowly and pushed her dress back down over her hips, taking slow, unsteady steps down the hall, her high heels clicking on the marble floor. Her hair was completely destroyed in the back, from her head being against the wall. He liked the reminder. As if the buzz in his blood wasn’t enough.

“End of the hall,” he said.

She walked on, his own private show. And he didn’t feel the least bit guilty about checking her out. But there was one thing he needed to know.

She was asking for a very specific game. And he was fine with that. He’d been honest when he’d told her there wasn’t much he wouldn’t do. He was a rich guy with good looks and no particular ambition beyond having fun. That meant he’d had a lot of alcohol, and other things, and he’d had a lot of sex.

But this was pushing into territory he hadn’t been into. The newness, the novelty, was intoxicating as hell, but it also meant they had to get some shit straight real quick. Simply because there was a trust element involved. And he didn’t stay with one woman long enough to develop that.

He didn’t know her; she didn’t know him. And this was the kind of game that needed minimal guessing in order to be okay.

“You want to take orders?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“You’re sure?”

“I am.”

“Be damn sure, Evie James. You’re playing a pretty heavy game with a stranger.”

She lifted a bare shoulder, the slim strap of her dress shifting with the motion. “Will you make me regret it?”

“No,” he said. “I’m going to make you scream.”

“Then I’m not worried.”

“That’s good. Worried isn’t how I want you.”

“How do you want me?” she asked, pausing at the bedroom door, turning partially, her fiery hair sliding over her shoulder and shimmering like a flame.

“I haven’t decided yet. I might want you on top. Or, I might bend you over the bed so I can look at that pretty ass of yours. Watch my cock thrusting inside you. That’s an option.”

Her eyes went wide again and he felt, in that moment, a little guilty. Because she seemed innocent in a strange way, and he almost felt like he was corrupting her.

Still, better him than some idiot from a bar who would take advantage of what she offered without giving anything in return. Or worse, some animal who would hurt her the moment they were alone.

That thought didn’t erase the guilt. But it was okay. He sort of liked the guilt. A novelty in many ways since shame was something he’d become numb to a long time ago. Deep emotion in general had been ripped from him on a sunny day ten years ago.

That it had been sunny made it particularly shocking. Because it was always sunny in Southern California. Because it was a day that looked like every other day, but it had changed everything.

He shook off those thoughts. Those memories didn’t belong here. They didn’t belong anywhere.

This was a fantasy. And in his fantasies, that day didn’t exist.

She opened his bedroom door and went inside and he followed her, closing the door behind them. He didn’t have to close it. He didn’t have a family member who might show up. No roommate. There wasn’t even a cat. But he liked the idea of closing them in. Of drawing a hard line between themselves and the world.

He looked at the bed, the black headboard the perfect height for a lot of different purposes. A reason he’d chosen it. No self-respecting playboy bought a bed that didn’t serve multiple purposes.

But there was one thing he’d never used it for before.

“I could always tie you to the bed,” he said, gripping the knot on his tie and loosening it until it came free. “Then I could do whatever I wanted with you.”

He slid his tie through his hands, the silk heavy and cool against his skin. It would be soft on her wrists. And it would hold her tight.

There was something intoxicating about the thought of total control, and dammit, he’d never considered himself that kind of guy before.

But life was a big mess. A giant, uncontrollable beast that moved forward with the force of a freight train, whether you wanted it to or not. Which was why all you could really do was your best to have as much fun as possible until it ate you.