Lance

“He’s a monster,” I add, not sure what more to say. Eric has been attempting to make small talk the entire meal. Two things are clear: one, he’s no Einstein and two, his sense of humor is nil.

He continues on about the new fighter out of Crew Gentry’s gym in Boston like he knows something about fighting. His terminology is all wrong, explanations of fighting styles downright backward, and he fumbles through it with the confidence that only an idiot can have. It’s kind of impressive in a strange, uncomfortable way.

Keeping an eye on Mariah, I take off my glasses and clean them with a napkin. She’s said just enough during the meal to remain polite and sophisticated. Her back, though, is rigid. Her shoulders are as stiff as a board.

While I listen to Eric babble on, I rest my arm over the back of her chair. She leans toward it. I only notice because I’m paying attention.

My hand goes to the back of her neck, working the tense muscles back and forth. My touch alone causes her to relax some, but as I press back and forth, her entire body slackens.

She molds to my hand. She bends as I press on her delicate skin and she shifts in her seat. My fingertips stroke up her spine and draw back down. Listening to Eric’s stumbling story takes more effort than I care to spare.

“I hear what you’re saying,” I say in an attempt at getting him to shut up, “but Pike isn’t as strong on the ground. I know he’s with Gentry now and that was his specialty, but he doesn’t have the skills Crew had. Not yet, anyway. Watch his footwork while he’s standing and then watch him scramble when his back hits the mat. He wants to be upright.”

“I guess you’re right.”

No shit.

Betsy’s cries can be heard softly from the living room. Chrissy shoves away from the table, but Taylor gets to her feet first. “Let me go, Chris. I can’t enough of those precious snuggles.”

Chrissy settles down across from Mariah once again. While she chitchats with Eric about Betsy’s feeding schedule, Mariah focuses her attention on me.

“You okay?” I ask.

“I’m fine. You?” she asks sweetly, like she already knows the answer. She rests her palm on my thigh. Her fingers flex against the denim, taunting me with how close she is to my cock.

I haven’t been able to erase her tease from earlier. I’ve sat the last forty-five minutes wondering just how wet she really is.

It still surprises me when she says things like that, things that remind me of Nerdy Nurse. It was sexy before, but paired with the proper librarian I know from my nine-to-five makes it perfection. This is the things songs are written about.

Dirty, raunchy, hip-hop songs.

Maybe sweet country ones too.

This is my problem.

We trade a secret smile. My hand clasps around the corner of her shoulder, pulling her closer to me. Eric’s gaze sits square on the side of my face. I want to look at him and tell him exactly what he’s missing, everything he tossed away. The problem is he’s been inside her and I haven’t and that little detail gnaws away at me until I’m almost raw inside.

It’s not a competition. She doesn’t want him. It’s my thigh her hand is on. But there’s a carnal need swirling around my gut, begging me to mark her. To leave an imprint on her that she won’t be able to forget as easily as she’s forgotten him. To bind her like she has bound me.

Drawing a line down her arm, I lean towards her, angling my head away from the others, I whisper, “Still wet?”

“Are you still touching me?” she breathes. “Pretty self-explanatory.”

“Your hand is killing me,” I warn. “If you move it any closer …”

She leans her head just enough to block anyone from seeing my reaction as she glides her palm down my swollen shaft. Hissing, I move in my seat, trying not to make a spectacle but almost coming undone.

“You’re evil,” I tell her.

Mariah’s eyes dance with a lightness I’m not sure I’ve seen before. It makes the entire dinner, including the forced conversation with Eric, and even the weird looks from Taylor worth it to see her this way. Her laughter pulls Chrissy’s attention our way.

“So,” Chrissy says, hands clasped together, “how long have you two been together?”

“Oh,” Mariah says in surprise. “Um, well, we …” She grips my thigh as if jostling me to help.

“We’ve known each other a while,” I explain. “A couple of years, actually.”

“That’s great. You look very happy,” Chrissy coos.

“We are,” I reply, trying to smoothen my features. “I feel like I’m constantly finding new layers to her I didn’t know existed.”

Mariah’s nails bite into my thigh as she scoots herself closer to me. “How sweet,” she says. Her arched eyebrow is nothing less than a coded go fuck yourself. It’s all I can do to not laugh.

“You’re sweet,” I wink, watching the arched brow go higher. “Then you’re …” The words fall as her hand rests on the crotch of my pants. It’s like she’s hit the mute button and I suddenly can’t speak. Every bit of focus is now directed to the spot where her palm sits heavily on my dick. “You’re full of surprises.”

Pressing my palm on top of hers, I wait for her to pull back. She doesn’t. Suppressing a growl, my insides rioting with all they have, I work her hand harder against me. My cock is so swollen there’s no way I could stand up right now.

Mariah, on the other hand, just looks at her sister with the most subdued look on her face. “We are. Just having fun.” She turns to me sweetly, as she inches her fingers even closer to my shaft. “Are you having fun today, Lance?”

Chuckling to cover the burn in my throat, I swallow. “Absolutely.” Lifting my hand from hers, I scoot it onto her lap. I work her dress into a ball. “I think you’re a barrel of fun.”

As soon as my skin touches the silkiness of her bare thigh, the hand that was touching me goes to her throat. A small laugh escapes as she responds to something her sister says, but she doesn’t look at me.

I turn in my seat, angled towards her, and toss a few words back at Eric to keep him talking. Moving my fingers towards her inner thigh, I let the weight of each fingertip rest against her before moving the next. Each touch dries my mouth, tangles my gut, and sends my heartbeat soaring in my ears.

She’s soft and smooth. The muscles in her legs tighten as she spreads them, moving one in my direction, opening herself up for me, making my blood turn to fire.

“Yeah, not much of a hockey fan,” I tell Eric when I realize he’s waiting for a response. He’s satisfied with this and goes back to whatever he’s watching on his phone.

Chrissy is telling us about Betsy’s last doctor’s appointment, lost in the flow of a story that is sure to take a while. Mariah watches her with what would seem to anyone to be rapt attention—anyone but me. I know her better than that.

The heat from her pussy reaches my hand as I move my fingers forward. I cup the inside of her thigh just inches from her panties. She steadies her features but doesn’t flinch.

Studying the side of her face, my skin suddenly not big enough to contain everything trying to spill out of me, I lift one finger. With my palm pressed into the top of her leg, I creep one digit towards the apex of her thighs.

Her breathing shakes as she pulls in lungful after lungful of air. My chest matches hers move for move.

Her skin is damp from the heated desire nestled between her legs. The edge of her panties form a distinct line around the curve of her hip to a sweet spot beneath her. I fix my gaze on the pout of her lips and try to remember that there are other people here.

“Eric,” she says, “how is your mother?”

My laugh is covered by a cough as I drag the edge of my finger beneath the lace covering her slit. It’s wet even there, the dampness creating an all-too-easy path along the side of her pussy.

She laughs again, this time with a tremble. Her body flexes forward as if she’s craving the contact as badly as I am. There’s no way that’s true. I’ve wanted this woman for as many days as I’ve known her.

Betsy’s cries from the other room pulling her parents’ attention elsewhere. Mariah sags back in her chair, a move that just gives me more access. As our lunch partners murmur amongst themselves, I slip my finger to the edge of her opening.

Her cheeks burn red. She reaches for a glass of water as I shift in my seat, the tightening in my balls so fierce I cringe. She’s so wet that her juices trickle down my finger, so hot the moisture from her body dampens my hand.

Just as the glass reaches her lips, I sink the tip of my finger into her opening. Her eyes fly wide as her shoulders drop in relief.

Eric’s voice is on the periphery of my senses. It’ll have to wait. With every push of my finger into her body, her muscles tense around my pointer. My stomach twists into a knot I’m sure I’m not going to be able to unthread.

“I’m going to check on Betsy.” Chrissy’s voice is barely audible over the rush of blood pounding in my ears. I follow Mariah’s eyes which are trained on the couple leaving the room.

“God,” she moans as I slip in a second finger. “I want to hit you for doing this right here.”

I still. “Want me to stop?”

She gulps a breath before turning to me. “Yes.”

My fingers withdraw immediately, the knot in my stomach straining.

She looks around in desperation, her eyes darting in a circle around her. Shoving away from the table, she yanks the hem of her dress back down. Her eyes hood as she looms over me.

Mariah has turned me on so many times. But not a single one of them, neither as Mariah or when she was promising me filthy things under the alias of Nerdy Nurse, has made me harder than I am right now.

“I’m losing my mind,” she breathes, a roughness to her tone that is the final fray of my self-restraint. “Follow me.”

She takes my hand, guiding me to my feet. Our footsteps tap across the tile. We go through an arched doorway and take a right.

Rounding a set of stairs, there’s a room tucked in the back. She twists the knob and we enter a butler’s pantry. It’s painted light grey with a set of cabinets lining the smallish, rectangular space. Shelves hang on the top starting a few inches off the cabinets and extending to the ceiling.

The door shuts behind me, a lock clicking into place. I look over my shoulder.

She’s standing in the middle of the room. Her eyes are almost feral as her chest bounces with each hefty breath.

A series of thoughts sweep through my mind as I look at her. I have no problem with one-night stands. I prefer them. I own them. But a rustle of uncertainty surges through me when I take her in and she doesn’t look like a one-night stand and I don’t know what that means.

“Are you sure?” I ask her.

“Shut up, Lance.”

My hands are on her face, my lips crashing against hers before either of us see it coming. Her back slams against the door. A box of cereal rattles off a shelf and falls to the floor.

Her mouth works effortlessly against mine, her hand tangles in my hair. She tastes of cherries as her mouth opens for me. My tongue parts her lips, lapping against hers. She moans, but my kiss swallows it.

Each second together feels like it took a second too long to arrive. Each moment bleeds into the next creating a dizzying high that rivals any I’ve ever had. I break contact with her mouth only to dot kisses across her chin and down the gentle slope of her neck.

Her body bends to mine, continuously moving to scratch the itch that is only going to be soothed with an orgasm.

“This,” she gasps, as I pull her dress over her head and toss it onto a nearby shelf, “is so inappropriate.” She leans forward, dragging our mouths together again.

“Like you care,” I say between kisses, fumbling with the latch on her bra.

She opens her eyes. Narrowing them as she bites down on my bottom lip, she shimmies her shoulders out of her straps. Her breasts are held up only by the cups of the soft pink bra that barely contains the gorgeous mounds.

“Fuck,” I hiss, kissing down her neck, yanking down the satin cups. Her breasts spring free. With one in each hand, I pull her taught nipple into my mouth. Mariah’s hips roll into me as she moans, her fingernails scraping against my scalp.

Hooking my fingers through the delicate bands of her panties, I give them a pull. They break free as easily as my willpower.

I take her in like a teenager seeing a woman naked for the first time. She’s so fucking beautiful with curves around her hips, her breasts, and a softness to her legs and stomach. I wish I had more time to appreciate this, to revel in how lucky I am to be the one with her right now, but I don’t. That’ll have to come later.

“Why do you still have clothes on?” she pants.

“Because you’re naked,” I say, kissing a line across her from hip-to-hip. “It’s kind of hard to stop licking you.”

“If it’s only kind of hard, then we better stop.”

I stop. It’s actually painful to break contact, get to my feet, and face her without touching her again. But I manage. Somehow.

Slipping off my shoes, then my socks, I kick them to the side. I refuse to let her look anywhere else as I unbutton my shirt and send it flying. My pants and navy boxer briefs drop to the floor and go skidding to the side with the rest of my shit.

A smile tickles her lips as I palm my cock.

“Is this hard enough for you?” I ask.

The air between us sizzles, our gazes heating the space until it’s too much to take. We meet somewhere in the middle, our lips crashing against one another. Her hands wrap around my neck, her legs around my waist. I press her back to the door again, the shelf on the wall rattling at the force.

My shaft is buried between the ridges of my abs and the softness of her belly. She reaches down, touching the pre-cum glistening on the head.

“I have no condom,” I say, pressing my lips against the top of her shoulder.

“Now’s not the time to tell me that.” Her head hits the door, the sound thudding through the room.

“I’m clean,” I promise. “Had a check-up last month.”

She cups my cheeks, pulling my face to hers. “Why should I trust you?” she asks, nibbling my bottom lip.

Squeezing the cheeks of her ass, I groan. “Because I’m not an asshole. Good enough for you?”

“Fine. I’m on the pill.”

“Fabulous. But are you clean?” I tease, sliding my tongue into her mouth.

She laughs, pulling away. “Fuck you.”

“I want to, but I have to be safe too.”

“Yes, of course I’m—”

I’m inside her with one thrust, parting her flesh with a single, solid stroke. She yelps as her muscles pull at mine, cinching my cock like a sheath.

“I’m inclined to believe you haven’t done this in a while,” I chuckle. The head of my dick is pulled back so hard by the tightness of her pussy that it almost hurts.

“Just shut up and fuck me, Lance.”

“Yes, madam.”

I bury myself in her. She’s soaked, her pussy burning inside for me. I shove myself inside her again, feeling her pulse around my throbbing cock.

She softly moans, her eyes fluttering open like she’s in a haze she’s can’t get out of as I pound into her. If I had my way, I’d keep her here permanently.

She feels too good wrapped around me. Too good in my arms. Too fucking gorgeous, and she’s glowing from what I’m doing to her. Me. A man who has no business touching a woman like her.

I’m an animal, a guy that intentionally keeps emotion out of the equation when sleeping with a woman. So why in the fucking hell does this not feel like a normal, run-of-the-mill fuck?

“Hey,” she breathes.

“Yeah?”

“Don’t stop.”

* * *

Mariah

A slow, sexy smile stretches across his face as he presses himself all the way until he hits the back of my pussy. I’m held between him and the door, his body sweaty against mine.

The butler’s pantry smells of sex and sugar mixed with Lance’s cologne.

I can barely breathe from the adrenaline, barely process the fact that he’s inside me. I’m dying for him to move, dying over the fact that he’s looking at me in a way I can’t deal with.

His chin lifts, his throat on full display. It leads to a set of muscled shoulders, a symmetrically perfect chest, and abs that make me whimper.

Tilting my hips forward, he doesn’t miss a beat. He rolls into me again, filling me with his rock-hard length.

He works himself against me, swirling across my clit. With each movement the door rattles, the cookbooks lining the door above us rustle against the shelf.

“Hold on,” he says.

Wrapping my arms around his neck and legs around his waist, he cups my ass in his hands and walks me to a counter. Pushing aside a cookie jar and a canister of flour, he sets my ass down on the cool marble.

My legs dangle off of the edge. My breasts sit on the top of my bra, my hair hangs in my face which is assuredly smeared with make-up, but I hold my breath as he takes me in.

“You’re fucking gorgeous,” he growls.

I’m sure I’ve looked prettier, but I’ve never felt it more than I do right now with this man eyeing me like he wants to devour me.

“Show me,” I whisper.

His hands grip my hips almost too hard, dragging me towards the end of the counter. I reach for his cock, but he squats down instead.

He parts my legs and crouches between them, giving me a mischievous grin. His face inches closer to my opening until his tongue slides between my legs and laps at my wetness.

“Oh, my God,” I groan, my hands propping me up behind me. All I can see is the green of his eyes dancing with mirth as he watches me absorb the pleasure he’s doling out.

“Sit. Still,” he says, pressing on my stomach to hold me down.

“You’re so good at this,” I say as he inserts a finger into my hole. His tongue licks up to my clit before he sucks it into his mouth. “Fuck you for being so good at this.”

He chuckles against me, the humming of his throat making everything worse. Better. I don’t freaking know. My head spins, the relief I need is so close I can taste it.

“I’m going to come,” I groan.

Then he stops.

“What are you doing?” I ask through gritted teeth. I feel like a baby when I almost whine as he stands. “Lance!”

“Yes, you are.” He scoops me back up. I link my ankles at the small of his back. “You’re going to come on my cock.”

He’s inside me, splitting me in two, pounding me with no fucks given about the noise we’re making or the sensitivity of the situation. My back slams into a wall next to a rack of spices as my body screams around him.

His eyes are trained on me, his jaw tense. I want to return the favor, watch him watch me, but I can’t keep my eyes open as the pressure inside me soars.

“I’m so close,” I beg as he slides inside me again.

“Mariah?” A voice comes from down the hall.

I snap my attention to Lance through a blur. It’s just clear enough to see him grin.

“Bite my shoulder,” he instructs, “because I’m not stopping.”

“Mariah?” My mom calls out again.

He twirls his hips as he’s balls-deep inside me. It’s enough to tip me over the edge. My legs shake, my body goes slack. I bite down on his shoulder.

His skin is hot and hard in my mouth as he pounds into me. Growling under his breath, he presses me harder against the wall. His cock swells as he empties himself into me. It only makes me shudder even more.

Every muscle in my body aches. The light in the pantry is too bright. The bolt of delicious orgasm melts me from the inside out as it rolls through my veins with every movement from Lance.

His thrusts weaken while my bite turns into a slack-jawed kiss. I pop a final, lingering press against the center of his shoulder before pulling away.

He quiets, still inside me, as I take in the definite circle marring his tanned skin. He looks at it too and laughs.

“Sorry,” I say, half-heartedly.

“I’m not.” He slips out of me and drops me easily to my feet. Kissing the top of my head, he lets his lips linger a moment longer than necessary. “I’ve fantasized about the things you’d say while you come.”

As I smack his chest, the buzz of the orgasm starts to dissolve and a tinge of reality works its way back in. I slip my bra back up and find my dress as the truth of his words hits me. Pausing, I look at him. I almost don’t want to ask in case I heard him wrong, but I do want to know. “You’ve fantasized about me, huh?”

He scoops up his clothes and starts covering up the body I could look at forever.

“Yup,” he says, buttoning his shirt. “But not one of them was as good as that.”

My cheeks ache from the smile stretched across them as I search for my panties. I never thought he fantasized about me. Not really. Maybe wanted me for a quickie here or there, but never an all-out fantasy.

“Mariah?” A knock comes against the door. “Are you in there?”

Grabbing my panties from behind an oversized can of soup, I whip my head to Lance. He looks no worse for the wear.

“What are we going to do now?” I say, half in shock. “Oh my God, Lance.”

He snakes his arm around my waist and puts his lips to my ears. “I think you need to go to the restroom and clean yourself up. I just came so fucking hard.”

I swat his shoulder. “I’m serious!”

“We walk out like two consenting adults. Ready?” he winks.

“Not that I care, but what is she going to think?”

“That you’re one lucky lady,” he laughs.

Before I can overthink it anymore, he tugs open the door. My mother is standing on the other side. She looks at me, then at him, in surprise.

“Oh,” she says, swallowing roughly.

“Mrs. Stevens, you need to have someone look at this lock. It’s sticking,” he says blandly.

“Really?” She looks at him, then at me. “I haven’t had any trouble with it.”

Lance grabs my hand, lacing our fingers together. He looks at me. “Trouble seems to creep up in the strangest places.”

My brows pull together, a question on the tip of my tongue, but my mother speaks before I can.

“Did you like what I’ve done with the pantry, Mariah?”

Starting down the hall, Lance right behind me, I call out, “Your pantry is memorable, to say the least.”

Lance laughs, the sound wrapping around my heart. I just hope this isn’t one of those strange places where trouble creeps up.