Endgame (6 page)

She fought a moan and called forth any bitch left in her. “How old were you when you started locking girls in the closet and molesting them?”

“Fifteen. Andersons start young.” He nuzzled her hair, inhaling her scent. “You game?”

“Aaron, do you know how many hours of sleep I’ve had in the last twenty-four?” Strangely, she felt wide awake. Five minutes in the closet with Aaron was beyond tempting, even if it meant she’d be crossing the line she’d drawn in the hallway.

“It will be hot. Fun. Worth every minute of sleep deprivation.” His voice dropped an octave, so seductive it gave her chills of the best kind.

“I’m sure it will, love.” She sighed, and he kissed his way around her throat, tonguing the depression at her collarbone.

He must have spent a hell of a lot of time in a closet debasing young girls, because oh, did that mouth make parts of her incredibly needy. Starting with her nipples—they begged for his mouth. Her pussy clenched and the dampness grew between her thighs. Men didn’t make her wet. Not in this life, anyway.

One large hand brushed the underside of her breast and the nipple tightened with need. Maybe one kiss, just one. She didn’t have to give in and fuck him. Yes. A good, hot kiss and a bit of groping would suit her perfectly.

She tapped her phone to bring the display back up while Aaron nibbled his way from her ear to her throat again. Enough light glowed in the closet now to see shelves beside her. She set her gun on a shelf and punched up the timer on her phone.

He lifted his mouth from her neck and frowned in the dim light. “What are you doing?”

“Setting a timer.” She clicked a few buttons and placed her phone on the same shelf as her gun. The closet went black as the display light died out. “You have earned five minutes.”

Her words must have finally sunk in, because he sucked in a breath. “What if I want more?”

Just like a man to think about himself. “Too bad.”

“What if
you
want more?”

Good question. She doubted he could make her hot enough to follow through in a mere five minutes. She was aroused now, yes, but not enough to overcome her misgivings about sex. Having sex meant she was ready to move on from the past. Even though most of her Charlotte persona had moved on, she wasn’t so sure the sexual side of her was there yet.

Aaron’s breath caressed her cheek—ragged. So excited, the poor boy was. His fingers fumbled across her breast with nervous inexperience. The thought of that turned her on even more for some odd reason. Her husband had been very experienced. She would have thought her next lover would be of the same cut.

“You have five minutes to melt my panties, Anderson. If you can get it done, I’ll consider extending our time together.” She withdrew her phone from the shelf and the display lit up. “You’ve already wasted thirty-six seconds. You going to get busy, or what?”

The closet went black, and he released her. He loudly shoved something aside and must have sat on the floor from the way he thumped down. The air around her moved, and he grabbed her hand, dragging her down next to him. He shoved her down next to him, her back against the shelf, and the length of his thigh burning into hers. “I want you comfortable. I can’t melt your panties if you’re uncomfortable.”

“So considerate.”

“Any ground rules?” His thumb stroked her chin in a tantalizing sweep, his fingers cupping her cheek. “Anything I can’t do to you?”

A born Dom, negotiating already. She smiled in the dark. “Keep it over the clothes, Anderson. Just like secondary school.”

“So English,” he whispered with a hint of laughter, mocking her.

She loved being blindfolded during sex, and a totally dark closet was just as erotic, her every sense aroused. He smelled divine, just clean, like Jake, but he also had a touch of spicy about him. The closet itself smelled of leather and shoe polish, and it mingled with his scent, beckoning her closer to his heat.

He swallowed in the dark, his breathing still ragged. Just smelling him, hearing him increased her need. So surprising that her pussy ached already, the slow throb giving way to a wet flood. When would he turn and kiss her? Damn it, he was wasting time, and she could at least enjoy his hard cock rubbing insistently against her clit before his time ran out.

Maybe he needed a little help. Perhaps she should climb on his lap again. He’d liked it before. However, the submissive side of her that had long been dormant wanted her to wait. Give him a chance.

Wait.

He swallowed, loudly. She swallowed, too, and for the first time in eons she felt vulnerable—she was with a stranger in the dark. Well, maybe he wasn’t really a stranger, and she was more than safe, but it was fun to stretch the truth. A large, horny stranger. Who refused to touch her. Jesus, her panties were already beginning to melt, and he hadn’t done a damned thing.

Wait…

Fabric rustled and his hands groped her shoulders, skimmed up her face, one palm cupping the back of her head. The other framed her cheek. His thumb brushed her bottom lip once, twice, and delicious shivers ran up her spine. Why was that erotic, to only have his thumb on her mouth?

She parted her lips, and he slid his thumb in. She gasped and sucked the pad, her tongue twirling around the tip. He groaned and removed his thumb, stroking the wetness over her bottom lip. His hands roamed higher, caressing her cheekbones, threading into her hair, holding her still, tilting her head upward. She sensed he loomed over her, his face just inches away.

“Kiss me,” he commanded, his voice firm yet deceptively soft, his breath hot on her lips.

She shivered slightly, not expecting to hear
this
voice at all. It stoked a fire deeper inside, beckoned to a need just as dormant as desire had been. She leaned and was rewarded with his hot mouth slanting over hers. Quick, almost chaste.

But he found her lips and kissed her again, quickly squelching any thoughts that he was done. His mouth claimed hers hungrily, exploring the top, the bottom of her lip. His hands never left her hair, though, his fingers madly gentle against her scalp, massaging. When she tried to slip her tongue between his lips, he tugged her hair, breaking their kiss.

“Not yet,” he whispered, kissing just below each eye.

“Seconds are ticking,” she whispered back, annoyed.

“Wait,” he demanded, and she felt his lips smiling against the skin of her cheek.

Wait…

He kissed her lips again, a little harder, a little longer, massaging, teeth biting her bottom lip. Her breathing quickened and desire began to bubble, like a pot waiting to boil. Then his tongue finally ventured between her lips, and a shock of pleasure rocked through her at light speed. The moan that escaped shocked her. He drew her closer, his fingers wrapping tighter into her hair, deepening the kiss, tongue thrusting against hers.

The air stirred, his mouth still on hers as he straddled her legs. His firm thighs imprisoned hers, his ass gently pressing on her lap. There was still no contact from his chest, just his thighs, his hands in her hair. He was able to bear down on her mouth a bit in this position, his tongue hotter, more insistent, demanding.

Oh, yes, this was what she needed, and she gave into the desire, allowing it free rein in places it hadn’t trod in a long time. She reached out, her fingers spanning his hard, smooth chest, and he grabbed her wrist.

He lifted his mouth from hers. “No touching.”

“I said outside the clothes. Not my fault you don’t have a shirt.”

“My game now. No touching.” He took both of her hands in his and pressed them at the side of her head, against the shelf. His lips found her cheek in the darkness, and he slid them over to crush against hers again, his tongue easing in, tangling. She struggled a bit, and he held her harder, kissed her firmer. Desire flamed, and the bubbling inside her stomach morphed to full boiled lust. She wiggled her legs and bent one knee, her thigh coming in contact with his ass, so firm. If she raised higher, she might come in contact with—

The timer dinged.

No!
She swallowed, frantic.

Aaron raised his mouth from hers, his breath ragged, matching hers. “Well? Panties melted?”

Hell, yes.
“Maybe you should check.”

His hand trembled as it skirted along the waistband of her leggings, testing the fabric. She fought quivering under his touch, especially when he cupped her mound, exploring the outer limits of her pussy. She fought harder the urge to arch against those inquisitive fingers. Her thighs quaked, and she wished like hell she hadn’t demanded he keep it over the clothes. She wanted his fingers inside her. Now.

“Feels like they’re still here. Should I take them off? Because I want you, Charlotte. I have never wanted anything or anyone this badly before.”

She wanted to say yes. Her desire to please reared up, that part of her that made her an excellent submissive, the only part of Charlotte that was original, left over from her old life. He wanted her, and it would feel really, really good to please him.

Was she ready to submit to another, though? Fear bubbled up through the fissures left by desire, and her throat tightened. Making love to Aaron meant she no longer belonged to John. A tremble of a different sort shook her, one that stemmed from the ache in her heart she’d beaten numb for the past five years.

Feeling lust for Aaron meant those emotions would have a voice, too. The ache, the pain, the loss. But they were weaker than before, thank goodness. This was softer, more of a question than a bold statement.

His hand slid under the waistband of her leggings, spanning her mound over the scrap of lace the store considered underwear. As bad as she wanted him to abandon that lace to explore beneath…

She wasn’t ready to belong to another man. Her mind fought for compromise, one that would end up being the most fun for him while making the least amount of impact on her soul.

Those large, trembling fingers inched under the scrap of lace and over her mound. He swallowed. She gulped, and those traitorous thighs of hers opened in welcome. He dragged a finger through her pubic hair then along the outside of her slit. Her whole world narrowed down to that one, throbbing section, hot and pulsing, filled with damp heat.

Traitor thighs widened more, and his finger plummeted, finding her clit, dipping into her wetness. He moaned and his mouth found her cheek, then her lips. This kiss was hot, wet, sinful, all tongue, one of a man about to get laid, and he damned well knew it. Charlotte stiffened, struggled from his arms, and yanked his hand from her pants.

He breathed like a porn star, hot and heavy in the darkness. “I want you, Charlotte. Please?”

Yes! Take me!
“I know you do, love. But I already told you. I’m not going to bed with you.”

“You’re a woman. Change your mind.”

Parts of her wanted to change her mind. But her mind was made up.

Aaron swallowed and sucked in ragged breaths, generating enough heat to warm Siberia. He turned a bit, and his hard cock connected with her leg. She sighed, hating leaving him so horny. The submissive in her would never leave a man rock-hard and aching. It just was wrong.

His cock twitched against her thigh. She blinked, and naughty thoughts formed, the images so sinful—him between her thighs, pounding. Her between his thighs, sucking…

A blowjob. She liked that idea. She used to love oral sex, that power of having a man literally by the balls, in her mouth. Divine. He’d be mighty tasty. It was definitely something she could handle and not feel…attached. Maybe she’d feel a little slutty, but that was exciting, too.

She turned, kissed his bare chest, and the muscles there quivered under her lips. My, oh my, smooth male chest was very nice. Hot salty skin, her tongue sliding down the ripple of his abs, rimming his belly button, down to the waistband of his pajama pants.

“What are you doing?”

“You know what I’m doing.” She tugged, only one waistband. He was commando. She slid her hand from his hip, across his groin, through his crisp pubic hair to encircle his shaft at the base. Very fine. His cock stood firm and thick in her hand, and she gave the length a stroke. It probably wouldn’t take long from the way he pressed against her earlier.

Leaning in, she let her cheek rest above her hand on the satiny-smooth flesh covering hot steel. Her tongue darted up the underside and then she took the head in her mouth. He sucked in a huge breath, filling his lungs from top to bottom. So exciting that she couldn’t see him, only feel his hardness in her mouth, sliding deeper, tongue dancing—

“No! Stop, please.” He stiffened. Every muscle right down to his cock went hard as a rock and just as still. Not the response she expected. Well, the hardening of the cock, yes, but not the shock.

She popped him out of her mouth, and he jumped up, away from her. The light snapped on. He shoved his parts back under cover and stood with an odd look on his face, one of…horror?

Really?
Charlotte arched a brow.
“Is that not a pleasing option?”

His chest rose and fell like he’d raced a mile naked down the main strip. He swallowed and stared at her with wide eyes. “Let me get this straight. You’d rather blow me than make love to me?”

Charlotte shook her head. “I will never make love to you. Fuck you, maybe. But not make love.”

“Okay.” But he didn’t look one bit sure he agreed. Or understood. Or believed she wasn’t a space alien wanting to suck his soul out through his dick.

“Is there a problem? I weighed the options, and this is going give us the most desired result. Unless you can come up with something else?”

He swallowed again, his Adam’s apple slamming up and down. He sat down, but as far from her as he could get in the confines of shoes, umbrellas, and a spare blanket. “Don’t you want to make love? Instead of fuck? I thought fucking was a guy thing.”

She glared through narrow eyes, squinting him down to millimeters. Why couldn’t he be like any other guy and just say yes to the blowjob? She could line up half of L.A. for this and none of them would think past that to contest making love vs. fucking. Not a one. “You didn’t enjoy my mouth on your cock?”