Dirty Little Secrets. Kierney Scott
really hoped she had fresh batteries because she was going to need them tonight.
“Did I forget to say I’m Australian? Sorry, it slipped my mind.”
They finished the bottle of wine before James got up to check on dinner. Megan followed him through to the kitchen.
He had laid out two plates with salad, ready to be dressed.
“Here, let me get the chicken. Hot grill plus broken hand and painkillers and alcohol, I don’t think that story would end well.” She reached beneath the grill and put the meat on the plates beside the salad before turning the oven off.
“I’m not drunk, not even a little bit. Just more relaxed than earlier. Now if you compare me to a paedophile, I’ll tell you to fuck off, that’s the only difference. Other than that we are still good to go.”
He came up behind her as she put dressing on the salads. He was so close she could feel the heat of his breath against her bare shoulder. He was so large, next to her. He filled the area around her, his presence sucking out the air, leaving a vacuum of electric energy. His presence was palpable despite the inches that separated them.
She let out a ragged breath. “Good to know. I’m down with swearing. It’s just violent drunks I can’t handle.”
“I said I wasn’t drunk, but clearly I can be violent when I need to be.”
He reached around her, his hands brushing hers as he reached for a bottle of salad dressing.
She jumped at the brief contact. She turned to face him. She could read people, she would know if he was lying. “At the hospital you said you would never hit a woman.”
“Of course I would never hit a woman. I could be drunk off my face and I would never hit a woman but that doesn’t mean I can’t be violent. You saw, I broke my hand on a guy’s face.” He held up his cast for proof.
Her heart beat faster. “But you would never hit a woman?” she pressed.
“Nope.”
“What if she really pissed you off?”
“We already established that. I would tell her to fuck off.”
“What is she hit you first?”
“Look at me, I have 90lbs on you. You can hit me until your fists bleed. I’m not going to hit you back.”
She shook her head. She needed to know his trigger point. All men had one. “No, what if she was going to hit you with something?”
In an instant, James pushed her against the island, trapping her hard against his hard body and the cold marble. His body was connected to hers at every level, applying enough pressure to keep her pinned in place. He was so close. She could feel his solid heartbeat through his shirt. It was hard to breathe. Heat radiated from her core, sending scorching tendrils down between her thighs, blood pooling in their midst. With every beat of her heart. Desire mounted and her restraint was washed away like the tide carrying away sand.
“There is never an excuse to hit a woman.” He lowered his head and breathed the words against her neck. She shivered from the sensation.
She believed him.
She licked her lips. His moss-green eyes were engulfed by large obsidian pupils. She remembered that look, even though it had been years since she had seen it. It was the look of a man before he kissed a woman. She closed her eyes, a nonverbal sign: an invitation.
She had not been kissed in too long. She could not remember the last time a man had held her with the intent of using her body for his pleasure. She breathed in the moment, the sweet anticipation.
In an instant James’ mouth closed on hers. He was more than a head taller than her so she had to rise on her tiptoes to reach his lowered lips. His mouth was sweet and tasted of wine. Even though all of his weight was pressed against her, he wasn’t close enough. She wriggled her arms free and linked then around his hips and pulled him closer. Through the thick material of his suit trousers, she could feel the hard length of his erection strain against the fabric.
The feeling was intoxicating. She had done that. He was hard because he wanted her, or maybe he just wanted a quick fuck; she didn’t care, because she wanted the same thing. She had gone too long without feeling a man inside her. They would use each other, taking everything they could.
His tongue left her mouth, licking a path across her jaw and into the sensitive hollow of her neck. She threw her head back to expose the delicate flesh. With his casted hand he pushed the dinner plates to the side. His right hand encircled her waist, pulling her closer still and then high as he lifted her onto the marble counter. Her legs spread, creating space for him. She pulled his mouth down again to hers. Her fingers laced through his thick hair.
Her legs spread wider, inviting him further in. There was too much space between them. He would not be close enough until he was inside her. She rubbed against his erection, rocking her hips back and forth against the solid length.
James fumbled with his belt, trying and failing to unfasten the polished leather. Megan pushed his hand away and undid his belt and zip herself.
“Woman, you do like to be in charge,” he smirked. His cock sprung out, long, and thick. She licked her lips. She wanted him everywhere, in her mouth, in her hands, but especially buried deep inside her. She rocked against him harder, his cock pushed up against her panties, the thinnest of material separating them.
“Condom,” she moaned against his mouth.
“Upstairs,” he said.
She couldn’t wait. She wanted to feel him now if only for a few strokes. She wanted to feel the sensation of him pushing into her wetness. She slid off the counter and pulled her panties down before sitting back on the counter.
“Don’t come inside me,” she said as she reached for his cock. The girth was so large, her fingers could not span it when she wrapped her hand around the head.
“I’m clean. Are you?” he asked. His tone was low, almost a growl.
She nodded her head. “But don’t come inside me. I’m not on the pill.”
His dark brows knitted together in a brief expression of surprise and confusion, but it was soon replaced again with a dark hungry desire.
With a single powerful trust he was in her. She cried out at the sudden fullness between her thighs. Her eyes widened at the invasion. He was too big but her body still wanted it. She pulled frantically on the buttons of his shirt. She needed to feel more of his flesh.
“Fuck you’re tight,” he moaned against her mouth. “So wet…fuck…so good.” He slid in and out of her, his pace frenzied, lacking all the control he had demonstrated earlier. She did that to him. She was drunk on the power of it and the need for him. A bolt of electric desire ran up her spine.
He lifted her from the counter, still sheathed inside her. He pushed her up against the wall, his pelvis driving hard into hers. She tilted her hips so every thrust slid across her clit, pushing her higher towards release.
She closed her eyes and let the sensation wash over her, her emotions temporarily suspended; there was nothing but the feeling of his body in hers, this moment, the passion the frenzy. If she thought about it, she would realise it was reckless and sordid, maybe even dirty: two strangers, fully clothed, fucking against a wall. But she didn’t think, she just felt.
And it felt right.
Her breath came in frantic pants. Her internal walls clamped down hard against him as the tension built.
“Fuck I am going to come.” James pulled out of her, letting out a ragged breath.
She slid down the wall, her legs unable to support her. James pulled her tight against him, not letting her fall.
She felt empty and incomplete.
“We’re not done yet,”