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  “Get me to your bed, now,” she moans, frantically jerking at my shoulders, angling her hips on the stairs to make direct contact with my impulsive-need-for-friction cock.

  Leaning back, my hands shake like a goddamn teenager when I move them from the stairs. Taking her hands from around my neck, I pin them over her head. “I’m in control here, honey. Not you.” My penetrating stare locks on hers as I move my hips, once, twice, three times . . . a jolt of pleasure jumping through my body from my groin all the way up my spine.

  Okay, man, get to the bed. You’ve done enough dry humping tonight.

  I can feel the rise and fall of her chest and the pounding in mine.

  My eyes squeeze shut, my body trembling, mouth crashing against hers. Our teeth knocking together in a desperate way, searching for a rhythm, but I can’t. All I know is this, on the edge of our control.

  Mila starts working on the button of her jeans and I know I have to get her upstairs, now. With one last thrust against her hips, forceful, promising, I take a step back, my hands snaking around her waist as I haul her up around my waist again.

  I’m certainly used to carrying people downstairs, but going up, and having them wrapped around my waist is surprisingly more difficult.

  Mila laughs when we reach the top of the stairs looking around the room suspiciously over her shoulder. “Uh, this isn’t a room, Caleb. It’s a loft. Where’s your door?”

  “There’s a bed.” My mouth refuses to move from hers again. It’s completely mission bound at this point. “That’s all that matters.” I kiss her, long and passionately, my lips seeking out her semiparted ones.

  She won’t let me and pulls back, raising an eyebrow. “But there’re no walls or door.”

  “Does it matter?”

  “No,” she counters.

  “Then shut up,” I say with a laugh, though I’m not sure how. Mostly because my lips never part from hers and I hope they never do tonight. Fuck breathing. I’ll die for these kisses.

  Well, maybe not, but still . . .

  I’m still holding her in my room, her shirt missing, but jeans sadly intact and I’m fully clothed. That needs to change.

  Knocking my hat off, she pushes my hair from my face, staring at me, probably wondering why the hell I still have my clothes on. I swallow as though it’s painful to let her go and set her down on the bed.

  Teasing her, I slowly take my shirt, letting it fall to the floor beside me. Her eyes move over my tattoos and chest, dragging lower to the distinct outline of my cock straining against my jeans.

  Moving my hands to my belt, I pause. “You wanna do this part?”

  She smiles, the side of her face glowing from the light of the moon shining through my windows. “I could . . . if you need me to.”

  My heart pounds in my ears. “I think you know I want you.” I nod to my hard-on. “Hasn’t gone away all night.”

  She motions for me to come closer with a flick of her hand. I take the couple steps toward her, my eyes locking on hers. When I’m standing before her, my hands hanging at my sides, hers move to my hips, thumbs stroking over the ridges and muscles of my stomach.

  Leaning in, she drags her parted lips down my left hip, then my right, and finally to the center of my stomach right above the waistband of my jeans.

  My breath catches. It’s been so fucking long since I’ve had a woman’s touch down there I’m ready to fucking come again just at the sensation of her lips that low.

  She peeks up at me. “Please tell me you have a condom.”

  “Why, do I need one?” I look down at her with amusement.

  She raises an eyebrow. “Really, dude?”

  “Kidding.” Unbuckling my belt, I slide my pants off and kick them aside.

  Walking beside my bed, I reach to my nightstand praying there’s a condom in there but knowing if there’s not, I can steal one from Owen or Gavin downstairs.

  Mila tosses her jeans next to mine, leaving her panties on for me to take off.

  I fucking love that.

  There’s a condom in my hand, so I set it on the edge of the bed and drop to my knees near her, positioning myself between her legs. Running my hands up her thighs, I spread them just a little and reach for the edge of her black panties.

  Gripping between my fingers, I stare at her as I pull them down. She lifts her ass off the bed placing her feet on my shoulders to help me out.

  When I get her panties past her knees, my eyes immediately go to her pussy.

  Goddamn. I’ve never in my life wanted to have sex with a woman so badly. And that includes the awkward teenage years whenever I’d see Eva Mendes and got a hard-on.

  Once I have her panties off, I coax her legs apart further with a smile.

  Her eyes widen when I bite the inside of her thigh and then sweep my tongue over the reddened mark.

  I can tell she likes it, her thighs opening wider, her hands moving from beside her to my hair, fisting, pulling, urging me on. I dip my head, the tip of my tongue sliding from the bottom of her slit to the hard pebble of her clit in a slow, steady motion.

  “Do you like that?” I whisper against her wet lips.

  She says something, but I don’t hear it, mostly because she moans and tosses her head back against the mattress. She rocks her hips up slightly, a plea for me to continue.

  I do. My tongue flicks out again but, this time, I flatten it and lick her opening. She tastes so fucking good I never want to stop, driving my tongue in deeper, probing and sucking her pink folds in my mouth.

  My mind races with thoughts of my cock replacing my tongue and then feeling of the tip sliding in. Unable to control myself, I groan against her, my needy hands wrapping around the tops of her thighs and shoving her pussy in my face. “Fucking Christ,” I mumble, lapping at her juices like a mad man.

  Mila gasps and moans, rocking her hips on the tip of my eager tongue. Moving my left hand from her thigh, I open her wet folds wider and lick her clit once more, and she writhes under my touch.

  Her hands clutch my hair tighter. “God, that feels so good . . .”

  Circling her clit hard, it’s not long and her pussy pulses beneath my fingers and I wish every fucking light in my room was on right now so I can get a better look at this, but fuck, I only have the light of the moon and the blue dawn of the night. Her thighs clamp around my ears, rocking and grinding into my face as she falls apart at the touch of my hands and tongue.

  And then she’s yanking me up by my shoulders, the condom on the mattress in her hands. “Get this on, right fucking now.”

  I love a woman in control, but she’s not running this show tonight. I am.

  I push her back, my hand between the valley of her breasts and rip the condom from her hand. “Nobody tells me what to do in bed,” I warn, smirking, my hand that was just buried in her pussy raising to her lips. “Taste yourself.”

  I can tell she doesn’t want to, but she blinks away the thought just as quickly and lets my fingers slide between her lips, sucking on them and then biting down.

  I groan, my jaw clenching, my cock so fucking hard I think I’m going to explode if I don’t get inside her now.

  In a rush, I rip the condom open with my teeth and get the condom on. Kneeling on the bed, I position myself on the bed in front of her. There’s a brief moment when our eyes meet, and I leave my fingers in her mouth as I enter her.

  My stare drops to between her legs when I enter her. Mostly because I don’t want her to see the look on my face, somewhere between agony and pleasure, like running into a burning building knowing you’re risking your life but loving the sudden burst of adrenaline you get. Might be a bad example but it’s how I feel the moment I’m sheathed inside of her.

  My mind goes hazy, and I struggle to hold on when her legs spread apart and I press my chest into hers.

  I don’t know where the control comes from, but I manage to move again, sliding smoothly inside of her. My fingers fall from her mouth to the side of her face as she pants
in my ear, the scorching heat of her breath against me intensifying the sensations in my entire body, spurring me on.

  Her pussy is warm and tight, and she’s so goddamn responsive to my every touch, but there’s a problem. The moment I’m inside of her, I’m ready to come. My balls tighten, my body’s shaking with need.

  Twisting her head, she whispers, “Looking at your personality, I thought you’d be more aggressive.”

  Did she really just fucking say that to me?

  I don’t wait for her to say anymore before I’m slamming inside of her again, my unyielding thrusts never letting up as my right hand moves from her hip to her neck as I draw back. Sure, I’m essentially choking her but if she wants it rough, that’s what she’s going to get.

  “Is this what you’re looking for?” I grunt in her ear, biting at the side of her neck enough that I know I left a mark.

  She doesn’t answer me.

  My fingers spread over her neck, the indentation of each finger pressing into her seen even in the low lighting. “Do you want it rough?” I growl. When she still doesn’t answer, I tighten my fingers enough that she yelps, or tries to but she can’t say anything with my hand against her throat like this. “Answer the question.”

  My hands clench and Mila hisses in pain, but I know she fucking loves it by the look of pure pleasure on her face. I let up enough for her to answer. “Yes, that’s what I want.”

  Hooking my left hand around her knee, I yank her leg up higher so I can go deeper, the head of my cock hitting her cervix with each thrust.

  I can’t tell if she’s screaming because she likes it or if I’m hurting her. I don’t stop though. She said she wanted it rough. I’m all about giving her what she asked for.

  And then the feeling returns and I have to stop, my cock hardening and I know what’s coming, or about to any second.

  Damn it, no, not yet.

  Shaking my head, I sigh and halt my movements for the second time.

  She notices my hesitation. “What’s wrong?”

  Running my fingers lightly down her cheek, I kiss her once and then draw back, sighing. I have to explain, or should at least.

  “Here’s the deal. It’s been a while, like three months . . .” Shit. I should have left that part out. “But I promise round two will make up for it.”

  She laughs. Fucking laughs. “Are you serious?”

  I put my hand over her mouth, smiling and burying my head between her shoulder and neck. “Shut up,” I growl into her skin, slamming into her again. Her head hits my headboard, and she tightens her legs around me.

  Tingling heat of my impending orgasm rushes through me with a violence I’m not so sure she’s prepared for. My head remains buried in the space between her shoulder and the pillow, my erratic movements forcing her head into the headboard again, somehow finding the way to push into her harder this time and she winces.

  It only takes two more thrusts before my movements slow, my cock pulsing inside of her as my legs and whole body jerks against her like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. Fuck, I’m practically trembling as my orgasm rakes through me. My balls pull closer, my body ready to release the orgasm I’ve been holding in for so long, pumping in and out of her hot tightness as she moans and screams around me. I’m not even sure how but my lamp and nightstand get knocked over in the process, maybe from her legs.

  My heart thumps wildly against my chest, my breathing, just downright embarrassing. It’s so loud I can’t even make out if she tells me to get the fuck off her or what.

  She must not say anything because she’s kissing my neck, my shoulders, my ears, everywhere that’s exposed as I lie on her, limp, trying to gain some kind of control over my body.

  Never go without for three months again.

  She remains still underneath me, other than her kisses.

  I already want to fuck her again.

  Pulling out of her, I roll to my side and toss the condom in the trash next to my bed. Mila smiles at me when I roll back toward her and then licks her lips slowly.

  I smile. “Do you think we made your ex jealous?”

  She nods slowly. “Oh yeah.”

  Glancing around my room, still trying to catch my breath it’s like I’m in another room I don’t recognize. Holy. Shit.

  My rooms trashed. Did I black out during this whole thing?

  I mean, my fucking mattress isn’t even on the box spring all the way and the sheets have been pulled off the corners.

  “That was . . .” Mila shakes her head, slowing a gasp; she’s trying to catch her breath too, her breathing just as rapid.

  “You’re welcome,” I tell her, smugly and smile.

  “Thank you, Caleb.” I laugh at her as she slaps her hand over my chest, trailing it lower, exactly where I want it and grips my cock with her tiny hand. “But how soon before you’re ready again?”

  Without looking, I flop my arm behind me and reach inside my nightstand for another condom. “Right now.”

  She laughs and takes it from me holding it in her palm. “Well, let me at least get you started.”

  And then she’s moving down my body, her mouth destined for the one place I’ve been thinking about it going all night.

  Fuck yeah.

  Breathing Apparatus

  Breathing Apparatus comprised of a face mask and compressed air cylinder.

  Fuck. I slept over.

  Damn.

  And another fuck, his bed beats the crap out of Scarlet’s couch. Imagine sleeping on fluffy pillows. Hundreds of them. That’s what this guys bed feels like.

  I take a shallow breath, and then another, trying to be quiet and not wake him. There’s a good part of me that wants to wake him for round two, or wait, round three.

  But I need to leave because it’s Christmas morning and if I’m late for breakfast, my mother will kill me.

  Caleb’s arm is draped over my chest, and it’s heavy as hell. It’s like a weight in itself, kind of like his stare on me last night.

  Just the spark of memory, the way his eyes held mine, the way they marked my body, it sends a jolt of adrenaline through me.

  I remind myself. I have to go. If I don’t, I’m going to dip my head under the sheet he’s covered with and give him a parting Christmas gift.

  As tempting as that is, I can’t.

  Picking up his arm, I gently move it from my chest to beside him. He stirs a little, a soft grunt, and my panicked stare darts to his stomach.

  I’m going to have to ask Scarlet how she sneaks out of apartments so stealthily.

  With his arm off me, I breathe slowly, waiting for the right moment to move. I can’t move too quickly either. It’s gotta be sloth speed.

  I kind of wish someone was recording it once I do move because it’s entertaining as shit how slow I can actually move. I perfected slow as a teenager anytime my mother asked me to do, well, pretty much anything other than sleep until noon.

  As sloth speed continues out of the bed, I notice how destroyed his room is. His mattress isn’t even all the way on the bed. It’s like a foot off, and his lamp is in pieces on the floor next to our clothes.

  Funny, I don’t remember us breaking anything last night. Did I black out?

  That sucks if I did because judging by the soreness between my legs and that strange over-worked jelly muscle syndrome I have, I’d say I had a pretty damn good time.

  Without waking him, I manage to make my way downstairs and through the apartment. I know his roommates are home. I can see the girl from the bar last night in her room that’s next to the small galley kitchen by the door.

  I don’t peek around. Instead, I hurry up and leave as quietly as I can.

  The walk outside is somewhat shameful, but not in the ways you’d think. I don’t regret anything that happened last night, and there’s certainly no shame in any of it. It’s shameful because I feel bad sneaking out. I mean, I didn’t even kiss him goodbye.

  As the cold of the early morning hits my face, I raise m
y hands to my lips, lips that feel burned with his touch from this morning.

  Crap. I want to see him again, and the thought that I won’t is depressing. I should have got his number at least.

  No, Mila. That’s not how a one-night stand works, and you need to concentrate on work and being a badass boss. No time for dick anymore.

  There’s another depressing thought.

  Caleb actually lives somewhat close to Scarlet, and yes, I check the crossroads of where he lives. You know, just in case. He lives at the Excelsior Apartments on E Pine St and Bellevue Ave.

  Perfect. Now if I get really desperate for more, I can stalk him. Or set myself on fire and hope he responds to the call.

  WHEN I WALK inside Scarlet’s apartment, I really wish I wouldn’t have come here this morning. I could have easily just worn what I did last night to my parents’ house and not have seen this.

  Scarlet’s on the floor next to the couch with nothing on. She’s never been modest, so I’ve seen her completely naked before. Doesn’t even faze me anymore.

  It’s the guy next to her that gives my heart a jolt. It’s the guy from the bar last night. Caleb’s friend. And that’s not the part that’s concerning. It’s that he’s buck-ass naked with a pillow, the same pillow I use to sleep with on her couch, covering his crotch.

  In a rush, I kick the door shut with my foot, the two of them startling awake. Well, Scarlet. Owen seems to be out cold.

  I try not to look at him too much, but I do notice he’s has a similar build to Caleb. That tall yet muscular frame where you can tell they’re constantly doing manual labor and cardio. I imagine being a firefighter has them carrying people down stairs and lifting heavy burning buildings off people. Probably not lifting buildings, but my imagination thinks so.

  Scarlet sits up, her wild mess of curly hair looking something similar to Pippi Longstocking. “Hey, did you just get home?”

  By the way, still naked and making no attempt to cover herself. The epitome of confidence, this one.