Текст книги "His Kind of Trouble"
Автор книги: Terri L. Austin
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Текущая страница: 13 (всего у книги 22 страниц)
Chapter 14
Allie hid her surprise well. Her gaze darted over Monica and Cal, but when it got to Jules, her placid smile slid into place. “Welcome.” Allie’s gaze swooped over Jules’s outfit, but her expression never changed. “Frances will show you to your room. No luggage?”
“I’ll bring them ’round tonight,” Cal said. “Thank you for this, Allison.”
“No problem. So glad to have you, Jules.” But as soon as Cal and Jules followed the housekeeper upstairs, Allie dropped the smile and shot Monica an annoyed glance. Then she snagged Monica’s hand and dragged her to the drawing room, making sure the double doors were shut before she let loose. “What the hell, Monica? I didn’t even know Cal had a sister. A heads-up would have been nice.”
Monica took a little too much pleasure in Allie’s irritation. It was petty, but kind of satisfying to see Allie caught unawares for a change.
Now Monica sauntered through the room, her fingertips gliding over a Grecian urn. “You like bossing people around. I thought you could put your powers to good use for a change.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Allie asked.
Monica turned on her. “I got a very hostile visit from Deena Adams today.”
“What did she want with you?”
“Excuse me? I’m the coordinator. Why wouldn’t she talk to me?”
With a sigh, Allie flopped down on the sofa. “You know what I mean. Why was she hostile? I’ll call her tomorrow and straighten it out, okay?”
Monica’d always thought the expression seeing red was just that. But as it turned out, it was a real thing¸ because all the knickknacks in the room, every stick of furniture, Allie’s face—suddenly, they were all a shade of scarlet. “Are you fucking kidding me, Allie?” Monica’s voice was quiet and perfectly calm. Completely at odds with the anger building inside her, like a dust devil swirling its way across the desert.
“What? Why are you mad at me? I said I’ll fix it.”
“I don’t need you to fix anything. I’ve done nothing but work my ass off for the last two years. I think I deserve a little respect. You don’t have to clean up after me like I’m Monica the Fuckup.”
Realization dawned in Allie’s light blue eyes as they took in Monica’s face, her hunched shoulders, her clenched fists. “What’s wrong with you?”
“What the hell is wrong with you? Deena was pissed because I called all of the media outlets, at your insistence. She thought I was going behind her back, because she already had everything scheduled. Which I believe I mentioned.”
Allie stood. “Well, it’s a misunderstanding. Why are you getting so bent out of shape?”
“Because everyone thinks I’m your little puppet. And you know what? They’re right. You’re a total control freak, Al. Why did you even give me this job? You obviously have no faith in my ability.”
Looking wary, Allie opened her mouth, then snapped it shut.
Monica folded her arms across her chest. “You’re never going to see past all the mistakes I’ve made. You’ll never see me as a responsible adult or give me any credit for turning my life around.” Monica dropped her hands, defeated. “You’ve never forgiven me for anything, have you?”
Allie jerked her head back. “Monica, that’s not true.”
“Yeah it is. You’re the one who sacrificed everything, and I’m the one who made your life hell. You gave me a job, and you and Trevor basically bought my house. When Mom got sick, you gave up everything to take care of us, and I haven’t been grateful enough. So I should just shut my goddamn mouth and take whatever scraps you decide to throw my way.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Allie was starting to get pissed off too—her eyes became cold, remote. “We gave you the job because you’re capable, and I thought you’d want to honor Mom’s memory.”
“I’m so damn tired of trying to prove myself to you, Al. You don’t think I’m capable, just the opposite. You look over my shoulder constantly. I can’t take a meeting without holding your hand. You’re always going to see me as that angry, fucked-up kid.”
“I told you the other day, Mom would be—”
“Leave her out of it.”
“I can’t leave her out of it. She’s the reason we’re doing all this. And you never talk about it,” Allie shouted. “You never even mention her! It’s like you’ve forgotten all about her.”
Monica’s brows slammed together. “Forgotten her? Because I don’t take out my grief and let you play with it?” She moved to the door and glanced back over her shoulder. “This shit at the foundation ends now. No more cc’ing you on every email. No more letting you micromanage every move I make. If you don’t think I can do this job, fire me.” She threw open the door and practically ran out of the house.
She was tired of feeling like the family failure, tired of backing down, of changing everything about herself, only to find she would never be good enough. It was exhausting.
She’d intended on saying good-bye to Cal and Jules, but she was too upset. Then she heard the door slam behind her. Assuming Allie was following her, Monica continued walking to her car.
“What is it, love? What happened?” Cal’s sandpapery voice soothed her.
Monica turned around and let her shoulders droop. “Allie and I just had a blowout. It’s been a long, shitty day.”
He padded down the stairs and loped toward her. When he stood before her, Monica leaned her head back to look up at him.
“I’d take you home and fuck it all better, but I think I should stay with Jules for a while. Your twin nephews have roped her into a game of hide-and-seek. I think she’s a bit out of her depth with them.”
Monica smiled. “They’re a handful.”
Cal placed his hands on the curve of her hips. “I don’t know what I would have done without you today. You were brilliant.”
“Thanks. I’m glad I could help.” Monica spread her hands on his upper arms, tightening them to get another feel of those biceps.
“I’m sorry our plans didn’t work out tonight, but I’ll make it up to you tomorrow.” He swayed toward her and lowered his head. His lips were only a whisper away. “I’ll pick you up at the office. Six thirty work for you?”
“What about Jules?”
“I think she needs a dose of Trevor’s company. She’ll appreciate me a little bit more after a few hours with my cousin.”
Monica started to laugh, but Cal captured her mouth with his own. As his lips moved over hers, he grasped her possessively. Monica’s arms found their way around his neck, where her fingers dove into the short layers of hair above his nape. His heat, his kisses, his rough touch left behind a trail of desire. Monica wanted him again. But too many obligations kept getting in the way.
Cal’s hand softened and trailed down to cup her ass. Then he lifted his head. “Damn it, why do we keep doing this out in the open? Come on, let’s go have that shag in the garden.”
Great suggestion. But his sister. Her sister. “Not practical.” Another difference between now and five years ago—back then, Monica wouldn’t let anything stand between her and what she wanted.
“Practicality is highly overrated.”
She leaned forward and placed a kiss in the center of his sturdy chest. “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
“Be ready,” he said. “I’ll have something special planned.”
“I thought you didn’t make plans.”
“You’re an exception to my rules, Monica Campbell.”
She raised one brow. “Rules? I thought you didn’t believe in those either.”
“Perhaps you’re reforming me.”
* * *
Monica sat at her desk and rolled her crystal pen between her thumb and forefinger. She should’ve been working, finishing up cost projections for the next board meeting, but she didn’t have it in her. Cal would be here in half an hour, and she couldn’t wait to see him.
She needed a reprieve from another hectic day. Although Monica hadn’t received any unexpected visitors, Ryan had called, thanking her for coming to the hospital. He’d wanted to talk longer, drag out their conversation, but Monica had cut it short. Then his flowers showed up. A dozen red roses—so…expected compared to Cal’s colorful, over-the-top arrangement.
Maybe Cal was right and Ryan wanted a reconciliation. That wasn’t going to happen, but she hoped he’d come to that conclusion on his own.
And Monica hadn’t heard from Allie, either. She felt pretty awful for the way she’d lashed out, but Monica had tried reasoning with Allie before. Her sister never listened. Maybe Al was finally taking her seriously, allowing Monica to handle the day-to-day operations of the foundation. Or she could just be giving Monica the silent treatment.
After fifteen minutes, Monica gave up the pretense of working and shut down her computer. Grabbing her purse, she walked down the hall to the bathroom. She was the last person in the office, as usual. In the mirror, Monica primped a little bit, fluffing her hair and applying a coat of lip gloss, then trekked back to her office.
She’d just tossed her purse in the bottom drawer when she heard the outer office door creak open, and a moment later, Cal walked in. “Hello, love. Did you have a good day?”
Would she ever grow accustomed to looking at him? That first glance always stole her breath away. As her gaze slid over him, she sauntered to the front of the desk. “It’s getting better.”
He wore dark slacks and a navy shirt. Her eyes were drawn to the V at the center of his collarbone. She slid her gaze up his throat to the tilted grin. When she looked into his eyes, they crinkled in the corners, causing her heart to pound. “How was your day?”
“Long. Jules talked nonstop as I worked on the Mustang. My ears are still ringing.” He yanked on his earlobe.
“So did you really plan a date, or are we winging it tonight?”
“I have something very special planned.” He rubbed his hands together and gave her a wicked smile.
“Dinner? A movie? You’re going to let me drive your car again?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Cal strode forward, his thigh muscles flexing as he moved.
She wanted time to explore those thighs, run her fingers up and down his legs and slowly feel her way to his long, thick shaft. Monica had a few plans of her own.
Her gaze trailed over him, all the way down to his feet. Instead of work boots, he sported loafers. “You have tassels.”
Cal stopped and glanced at his shoes. “Do you have something against tassels? Because I rather like them. When they’re attached to nipples, they’re even better.”
She kept staring at his feet. “They’re cute.”
He walked another couple of steps until he stood in front of her. “Cute?” He reached out and fingered the collar of her black blouse edged in lace. “Is this from the Italian Widows collection? Quite fetching.”
She tried to smack at him, but he caught her hand and brought it to his lips. His eyes remained on hers as he kissed her palm.
“I actually wore a skirt today, instead of pants. I should get credit for that.”
Cal glanced down at her legs. “It falls well past your knees. Are you trying to seduce me with your ankles?” He pulled her toward him, causing Monica to lose her balance and grab his upper arm for support.
“Cal.” Her smile fell away when she saw the heat in his eyes. Their one night together had been at the forefront of her mind for the last two days. The Mustang, his fresh, clean scent, his hard dick inside her…it replayed in her head over and over.
Cal leaned down and brushed his lips across hers. “I want you right now.”
Monica nodded. “I’ll grab my stuff and we can get out of here.” She tried to pull her hand out of his grasp, but he wouldn’t let go.
“Right now.” His gravelly demand caused her stomach to flutter.
Monica’s gaze flew around the room. “We can’t. Not in my office.”
“Everyone’s gone for the night. The place is shut down tight.”
“No. Not here.” Tugging her hand back, Monica shook her head.
With an indifferent expression, Cal shrugged. “Of course. We’ll go back to mine, assume the missionary position, and keep the lights off. Very good.”
He was playing with her. She knew he was playing with her, and yet she couldn’t leave it alone. That damned last-word thing. “Just because I don’t want to use my desk doesn’t mean I do boring sex. And I didn’t notice you complaining the other night.”
Cal raised his brows. “Who said anything about the desk?”
That left her speechless for a moment. “Then where?” Curiosity overrode her sense of propriety. “I’m for sure not doing it on this floor.” She winced at the industrial gray carpeting. Looked scratchy.
“Not the floor.” Cal reached out, his hand landing on her chest. His tanned fingers plucked open two of her shirt buttons.
Monica froze to the spot, helpless to stop him. She was not having sex in her office. But the very thought of it caused thrills of excitement to skitter throughout her body. “Up against the wall?”
“Everyone fucks against the wall. Where’s the imagination in that?” He placed a finger at the base of her neck and lazily traced to the third button.
Monica watched its progress and stared in fascination as he flicked open two more, revealing the scalloped, lacy edge of her bra. The tops of Monica’s breasts were bare, pushed up high and firm in the scarlet demi bra. She’d worn it with him in mind.
“Red.” His lips parted, and Cal’s chest expanded as he inhaled.
He was pleased. No, not pleased—aroused. She really needed to wear this color more often.
As Cal stared at her breasts, Monica’s heart pounded. Her panties grew wet. With one sexually charged look, he could draw that kind of response from her, make her body hum with desire. After a full minute, Cal dragged his gaze from her cleavage, up to her face.
Monica’s gaze bounced away. “You said you liked the color.”
“Seeing you in that, it’s better than Christmas.”
She started to laugh, but when Cal used his finger to follow the upper curve of her breast, it turned into a gasp. “I’m not having sex in the break room,” she said as he finished undoing the buttons visible above the waistband of her black skirt. “I’d never be able to eat in there again.” Her voice was a breathless whisper.
“Not the break room.” He used both of his hands to untuck her blouse and then peeled the edges back, revealing more of her pale skin. “The other night in the Mustang, I never got to see you naked. Tonight, I want to see everything.” With the pads of his fingertips, he brushed over the satin smoothness of her bra strap, then followed them downward and cupped her breasts. Her nipples immediately budded beneath his touch.
The suspense was killing her. Not the desk, not the floor, not the wall. “Where?”
“Where what?” Cal continued to lightly stroke her. “You mean where would I fuck you in this office?”
Monica licked her dry lips. “Yes.”
“First, I’d strip every bit of clothing off you.” He pushed her jacket and blouse over her shoulders and down her arms, leaving them hanging from her wrists. He bent down and swiped his tongue across her breast. “And then, I’d grab your ass. Have I mentioned how much I love your ass?” He licked her again.
Was she really doing this? In her office, her professional sanctuary? Yes. Her bad-girl self wanted to come out and play again, and even though it felt dangerous, Monica wanted to walk on that fine edge. With Cal.
Her breasts felt full and achy. Her nipples strained against the red satin. “What would you do next?”
Cal knelt down before her. He slid his hands around to her bottom, where he kneaded her cheeks through the lightweight wool skirt. Gazing up at her, he leaned forward and nipped her naked waist.
He didn’t play nice, and she loved that. Monica sucked in a breath. “Watch it. I bite back.” Her jacket and shirt still dangled from her wrists, constraining her, keeping her from touching Cal—and she really needed to feel him right now. With jerking movements, she pulled at the cuff until she managed to shrug out of the restrictive clothes, dropping them to the floor. Using both hands to capture his head, Monica ran her fingers over his fine, short hair, sifting through the blonder strands.
Cal glanced up. “I look forward to it.”
She was so turned on, she could barely catch her breath. “What would you do next? If I let you fuck me here.”
“Well, next, I’d reach under your skirt.” He let go of her ass to gather the material in his fists, yanking it up, exposing her legs. He stopped and grinned when he saw her thigh highs. “Stockings. Miss Prim, you are full of surprises.”
“You don’t know me as well as you think you do.”
Cal lifted her skirt up past her panties. Satiny red panties. “Perhaps. And I’m amending the naked part. I’d let you leave on the stockings, because they’re sexy as hell.” Compliments from Cal, delivered in that husky voice, turned her into mush every time.
His fingers circled the border of the silky thigh highs. His hands were close, so close to her swollen clit. Just another two or three inches, and he’d be right there. “Touch me, Cal. Please?”
He grinned. “I will. Eventually.” When Cal’s tongue darted across her bare leg, near the top of her stockings, it put his face right in front of the triangle covering her pussy.
“Okay,” Monica said, “I surrender. The floor works. Yay for office sex.” Her knees trembled, and she started to lower herself to the carpet. But Cal held her up.
“No.” That one word locked her knees into place.
“What? I’m on board here. Clear off the credenza or something, and let’s go.” A few minutes ago, it had seemed out of the question. Now she was desperate for him, her body needy and ready for release.
“Who has sex on a credenza?” he asked.
He ran his hands along her outer thighs and wiggled his thumbs past the elastic and underneath her panties. Then he slid his middle finger against her slit. Oh yes. Restless, achy, Monica bit back a moan. Back and forth, his touch so light, so whisper soft, she had to fist his hair, using it as an anchor to keep her upright. Monica’s hips jutted forward.
“Take your skirt off.” Cal’s thumb circled her clit. It was swollen, pulsating, begging for his touch.
Without hesitation, Monica reached around and unzipped the back of her skirt. “That feels amazing. Don’t stop.” But he did. And very gently, Cal removed his hand from her pussy. When Monica groaned at the loss, he let out a small laugh and helped her wiggle out of her skirt until it landed in a heap at her feet. She also toed off the ugly black flats, until she wore nothing but her underwear.
“Now the bra,” he said.
She wasn’t going to hurry this part. He’d been teasing her, now it was his turn. Bowing backward, Monica thrust out her breasts. She grinned when every bit of his attention honed in on her tits. His lips parted slightly, and his green eyes darkened.
“This bra?” she asked. Gliding a finger along the lace-edged cup, she inclined her head to one side. “I don’t know. I’m beginning to wonder if this is a good idea after all. You haven’t told me where we’ll do it.”
Suddenly, Cal’s hands clamped on her hips. “I’ve been remiss, darling. I’ll spell it out in detail. After you’re naked.”
Although heat flooded her pussy, she pretended to think about it. “No, I need the details first.”
Cal’s jaw slid to one side, and his eyes narrowed as he gazed up at her. “All right then, I’m going to spin you around to face that window. You’re going to press your hands against the glass, and I’m going to take you from behind.”
Monica’s eyes fluttered over his face. Cal was serious. She swallowed as she turned to look at the large, unadorned glass. Her office faced an empty parking lot and a darkened medical building.
She swung her head back to face him. “If we get any closer to the window, someone could actually see us. For real.” They’d be open to scrutiny. There may not be anyone in the other building, but she didn’t know that for sure. And if someone were up high enough, they would probably be able to see her right now, standing here in her underwear. Oh God, that shouldn’t make her heart thump in excitement. It shouldn’t make her pussy clench just imagining Cal standing behind her, pounding into her, leaving her exposed, vulnerable. But it did.
“All the windows in the building across the way are dark,” he said. “The chance that anyone will spot us is remote.”
“But possible. No, it’s too risky.” She didn’t sound convincing, even to her own ears.
“You’re shaking, and your knickers are soaking wet. It excites you, doesn’t it, that risk?”
She didn’t bother lying. “Yeah.” Monica wanted to go there. Dangerous sex with Cal—she could become addicted to this. Or she could get caught, and her life would be ruined. It almost seemed worth it, acting out this exhibitionist fantasy.
Cal said nothing, letting her make the call.
But it wasn’t much of a risk, not really. She hardly ever saw lights on after dark, and she worked late every night. “We could turn off the main light.” That was reasonable. A compromise—semipublic sex, but dark enough to provide some protection.
“No, I want to watch your reflection when you come. And, Monica”—he snagged her panties and pulled them down to her knees—“you will come. Hard.” He looked into her eyes as he continued removing the scrap of material from between her legs.
Her cunt throbbed in response. “Is that a guarantee?” She bent over and held on to his shoulder while she stepped out of her panties. He tossed them aside, and now she stood before him, her pussy bare, clad in nothing but sheer thigh highs and a screaming-red bra. Monica had never been this aroused. Calum Hughes knelt at her feet, his gaze so scorching, she felt the heat of it on her skin.
“It is.” Cal palmed her ass, his grin lilting a little higher. “Now take off the bra.”
“No. Not until you’re naked too.” He wasn’t the only one who wanted a show.
Cal released her, and while still on his knees, unbuttoned his shirt. As he pulled it off his shoulders and down his tight, muscular arms, she got a glimpse of his tattoo. Celtic knots wove their way around each other, connecting to form a larger pattern.
Monica traced her finger along the ink work at the top of his shoulder, following the intricate loops as if they were a maze. She loved that tattoo. “Where did you get this?”
“Ireland.”
“Does it mean something?”
“Probably.” Cal rested his hands on her waist. “You’re wearing a bra and no knickers. Doesn’t that seem odd to you?”
When he kissed her stomach, Monica threaded her fingers through his hair once more. “You’re still wearing pants. They need to come off.”
Cal gracefully rose to his feet. He kicked off his shoes and discarded his socks before shucking out of the dark slacks. “Anything else I can do for you?”
Monica stared at his boxers. Navy blue. His hard cock strained the material. “I’m sure there is, if you put your mind to it.” She stepped toward him, close enough so her breasts brushed against his smooth chest. Tucking her finger inside the elastic waistband, she gazed up at him. “Time to lose these.”
“I think the bra should go first.” Cal played with the strap, adjusted it to one side, then, bowing his head, ran his tongue across her neck. Wrapping his hands around her upper torso, he deftly unsnapped her bra and slid it from her shoulders. Slowly.
As the cups fell away from her breasts, Monica watched him, watched every expression that drifted across his face. He appeared almost reverent as he peeled it down her arms, exposing her fully.
“You’re beautiful everywhere, Monica Campbell.”
He made her feel beautiful. The way he looked at her, the way he cupped her breasts and stared at them, like they were the most amazing things he’d ever seen. When he scraped his thumbs across her nipples, Monica ran her short nails along his forearms.
“You like it harder than that, don’t you, love?”
There was something so hot about being with a man who knew exactly what she needed and was willing to give it to her. Biting her lip, she didn’t speak, merely nodded. So Cal obliged. He squeezed the underside of her nipples. Gently at first, then gradually Cal kneaded them harder in his big hands. Monica loved this rough play. It heightened her arousal, left her craving more.
Pulling and twisting the engorged points, Cal eased off, then started all over again. He worked her up until she was so wet, so needy, she could hardly think.
Monica’s eyes drifted shut as she tilted her chin upward. That felt delicious, his hands on her, but still, she wanted more. “Your turn. Shorts off.”
“Not yet. I’m not done with you.” He released her nipples and bent toward her, taking one between his teeth, biting just hard enough to make Monica cry out. Then he lapped at it before latching his mouth over her breast and sucking.
Monica’s hands ran mindlessly over Cal’s upper back. Her pussy was so ready for him. Need. Her entire body hummed with it. “Cal.” He continued to suck, and she felt the pull of it all the way to her clit. “Calum.”
Finally, he raised his head. His cheeks were ruddy, his lips parted. Monica planted her hands on either side of his face and pulled him down for a kiss. Cal’s tongue brushed against hers. She sucked it, nibbled at it. Cal responded by biting her upper lip, groaning deep in his chest. She liked that she had this effect on him, glad she wasn’t the only one feeling this powerful lust that had taken over all reason.
Finally, Cal pulled away. Panting, he jerked his boxer shorts off, releasing his thick, long dick. Monica stared at it. She wanted to touch, lick, stroke every single inch of him. She wanted her hands on that warm, smooth skin. Wanted to wrap herself around him and breathe him in.
Grasping his cock with one hand, Monica rubbed the soft skin along his hard shaft, following a thick vein up to the tip. A drop of precum beaded at the surface. Brushing it with her finger, Monica spread it over the head. She removed her hand, and glancing up at him, worked that same fingertip in her mouth, twirling it along her tongue, her eyes wide.
“Monica.” She loved the way he bit out her name, his impatient, guttural voice striking a chord deep inside her.
Placing her hand on the base of his cock, she knelt before him. Lowering her head, she swirled her tongue across the broad tip.
Cal scrunched his eyes closed. A tic in his jaw betrayed a shaky grasp on his self-control. He was close, and she’d barely touched him. Still, she couldn’t help but tease him a little more.
“Do you like that?” Rhetorical question. She smiled as she lapped upward, along the length of him. Then, taking him in her mouth, she sucked gently. Cal’s cock twitched against her lips.
“Darling, I have plans,” he said. “Plans that involve taking you from behind, watching you in the window as your tits sway back and forth.”
The tip of Monica’s tongue darted over his slit, granting her another taste of salty liquid. She still hadn’t relinquished her grip at the base. She liked feeling this way, playful and powerful, while Cal stood almost helpless, a slave to her mouth, her hands. She could take him now, like this. But she wanted him inside of her, wanted to feel this magnificent cock ramming in and out of her, to feel him from behind. And as he watched her in the window’s reflection, she’d be watching him. She wanted to be naughty with him, possibly revealing herself as he took her in full view of anyone who could be walking by.
She let go of him and rose to her feet. “You should make plans more often.”
“I’ve been thinking about fucking you all bloody day.” He leaned down and nipped her chin. “I love that little cleft.” Then he snatched her around the waist and lifted her up, until her face was level with his. “Kiss me.”
Wrapping her arms and legs around him, Monica complied. With Cal’s cock wedged between them, she planted her lips on his, stroking her tongue into his mouth. She’d had boyfriends in the past who didn’t like to kiss after she’d gone down on them. Cal wasn’t like that. He was earthy, sensual.
She broke away. “Condom?”
“Right.” He stared hard at her lips.
Monica swept her hands across his shoulder blades. His skin—tanned and smooth over powerful, striated muscles—warmed her palms. Monica angled her head and licked that tattoo, curling her tongue along his taut bicep. She smiled up at him. “I’ve been wanting to do that since I first saw you working on the Mustang.”
“You should have done. It’s quite an icebreaker. The condom’s in my trousers. That means I’m going to have to put you down.”
“But you’ll get to fuck me. Seems like a good tradeoff.”
“A very good tradeoff. You’ll have to unwrap your legs from around my waist, though.”
Monica stroked his cheek. “In a second. One more kiss.”
“One more,” he agreed.
There was nothing gentle about it, and Monica needed that. Needed the way he devoured her, his tongue thrusting against hers, his lips almost brutal in their intensity. He sucked her bottom lip as he lifted his head. Finally, he let it go. “All right now, legs down.”
Monica unwrapped her calves from his lean hips, and Cal dropped her to the ground. He snagged his pants, quickly dug in the pocket, and removed a condom and rolled it on. Then taking her shoulders, he spun her around, just as he’d promised, and marched her forward.
Monica searched the building across the way. No lights, no sign of movement. This was insane. Insanely hot. She glanced at herself, barely recognizing the naked, sexy woman with messy hair and puffy lips.
“Bend over, Miss Prim. Hands on the glass,” Cal ordered. Monica obeyed, and with her feet in a wide stance, she bent over, but kept her head tilted up so she could see him. This was the craziest thing she’d done in years, and it scared her. But titillated too. Cal did this to her—freed that part of her she never thought she’d see again.
In the glass, Cal’s reflection looked like a naked, hot specter. Meeting her gaze, he ran his palm down her spine—then he gave her ass a not so light tap.
Monica shrieked at the unexpected swat. She liked it. The afterburn caused the walls of her pussy to tighten. “After this, you won’t be able to call me Miss Prim.”
Without warning, Cal thrust once, burying himself deep inside her. Grasping her hips with both hands, he yanked her backward. “Oh, you’ll have to do more than this to lose the nickname.”
Monica had no idea what he had in mind, but she was down for it. The tendons in his neck strained as he began to move, slowly.
