Beautiful Distraction, p.17J. C. Reed
“But you didn’t.”
“No, I didn’t. I chose to stay.” I grimace, doubting the sanity of my decision.
A smile lights up his face. “I wonder why?”
Yeah, why indeed?
My traitorous stomach growls.
“Someone’s hungry,” Kellan says. “Come on, I’ll make you a real breakfast, even though I shouldn’t because I liked you better with only your bra on.” He points at my clean shirt.
“I can make my own breakfast.” I turn my back to him, suddenly nervous as realization dawns on me.
We are alone. In his house.
“Let me. I’m the host.” Before I can protest, Kellan’s standing next to me, arms on either side of me as he begins to fumble around for stuff, his hard body brushing against me at every opportunity.
Oh, for crying out loud!
It’s his kitchen. Unless he’s just suffered from a major case of amnesia, there’s no way he doesn’t know where he’s placed all the stuff he apparently needs.
Mandy’s barely been gone a few minutes, and I’m already caught between a kitchen counter and this statue of a man, his breath on my neck.
“You know what, I think I’ll just grab some cookies on my way out,” I say.
Kellan laughs, the sound low and so erotic, it travels all the way down and settles between my legs.
Turning around, I press my hands against his hard abs and push, but he doesn’t budge from the spot.
Now I’m really stuck.
“What do you want?” I whisper, my voice too low, too hoarse for my liking.
“You. All to myself.” He doesn’t even need to think. His words come out fast and casual, and completely take me off guard.
I peer all the way up into his green gaze, lost for words.
“You want me. I want you. We’re both consenting adults. We’re all alone on a big farm. What’s the harm?” Kellan continues.
Yes, what’s the harm indeed?
He’s so gorgeous it takes my breath away.
The kind you fuck, and then discard.
I’m a successful, mature woman who can handle a bit of sex without getting her feelings involved.
“Let me guess, no strings attached?” I can’t believe I’m even considering this when I should be smacking him.
“No strings attached.” His eyes bore into me. His gaze is so penetrating, I can almost feel him inside my core, and he isn’t even touching me. “That’s all I’ll ever be able to give you.”
“I don’t even know you,” I say stupidly, like people only sleep with people after having read their résumé. “I shouldn’t be staying here alone with you.”
“You knew me well enough to let me go down on you,” Kellan remarks.
My jaw drops.
“The way I see it, you don’t need to know me to fuck me,” Kellan says. “So, what do you say? You get the vacation you wanted, and I get to teach you all about sex. Good sex.”
I have no doubt about that. Like my mother once said, guys like him are the building blocks of the fond memories that keep us all wet and writhing through years of doomed marriages and monotony.
If I’m to enter something I’ve never experienced before, I need to do it on my own terms.
“Tell me something about you,” I say.
“What do you want to know, Ava?”
“Are you dating anyone?”
“I told you I’m single. I’m a lot of things, but not a cheater,” Kellan says.
I stare at him as I try to read his features. His expression is honest. Suddenly, the million obstacles in my head seem to evaporate. “Good. Because I don’t condone cheating.”
“Because of the ex you told me about?”
I shrug, as though it’s not a big deal when it is. A huge one. “It’s the past. A long time ago. Doesn’t matter. There were others since. Nothing serious though.”
His eyes narrow slightly, but he doesn’t press the issue, for which I’m grateful. My demons are mine to exorcize.
“Anything else you want to know?” Kellan prompts.
I shrug and look away, as though I’m pondering over possibilities and choices, when in fact I know exactly what I want to know. “What were you doing in New York?”
I could have asked anything in the world, and yet the one question he evaded before is the one I need answered.
Because to fuck him, I need to trust him. I need to trust that he’s open and honest.
His stance changes instantly. His shoulders are tense as he turns away from me. “Business.”
“What kind of business?” I persist.
“Ava.” His tone is clipped, betraying his hesitation and inner turmoil. I know it’s not my place to ask, and it’s most certainly none of my business, but I can’t just not know anything about him. I can’t be detached like that. My body might not mind, but my head doesn’t work that way.
Our gazes meet in a fierce but silent battle. For a split second, his eyes shimmer with stubbornness. Irritation. Even animosity.
I speak first. “I need to be able to trust you.”
He blows out a breath and rakes his fingers through his hair, the tension in his shoulders magnifying. “Let’s just say bad interpersonal decisions. Relationships are great as long as they don’t turn bad. And in the end, all turn to dust.”
I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t.
I guess that’s all the answer I’ll get.
“So, what do we do about that guy who hurt you?” A lazy smile creeps up his face, and just like that, all the tension seems to evaporate from him.
God, I love it when he smiles. It’s like we’re the only two people in the world and his smile is only for me.
“You can’t beat up a guy, Kellan. But thank you for the offer.”
His arms wrap around my waist, and he pulls me a little closer to him. My breasts are pressed against his chest, my nipples instantly beading at contact. My world begins to spin just a little bit from the way he looks at me—all heat and want and carefreeness.
This doesn’t mean anything.
We don’t mean anything.
The thought is strangely arousing. Just being with him—not for who he is, but for his body, for having my needs fulfilled—is exciting.
Kellan’s lips come closer to mine. His breath smells of mint and coffee as he brushes his lips over mine ever so gently.
“Want me to make you come again?” he whispers against them. “I could do it right here, right now. I know it wasn’t nearly enough last night.”
“Now?” I’m so up for it, my breath catches in my chest. All I can do is press my lips against his, my mouth opening slightly to grant him access.
“Yes, now. Your lessons start today.”
His mouth comes crashing down on me instantly, his tongue forcing its way into my mouth slowly but decisively. Pressed against him, I can feel his body with every fiber of my being.
He’s hard for me, and possessive—just like his kiss.
His length is pressing into my abdomen, reminding me of what I’ve been missing for over a year. My nerve endings are on fire; my body’s instantly awake.
My moan is stifled by his exploring mouth.
His hands slide around from the small of my back to my hips, and in one swift motion, he lifts me up until I’m seated on the kitchen counter. I open my legs for him and wrap them around his hips, mentally swearing at the fact that I’m wearing jeans.
“You know your friend could change her mind about her trip, right?” Kellan says, drawing back just a little bit. The edges of his mouth tug up in a half smile.
Of course, I know that.
“But she won’t,” I say. “She loves anything resembling a city way too much. Why do you care?”
He shrugs, grinning. “I don’t. But you might.”
That’s my reason to back off, and yet I bury my fingers
“You’re damn hot when you do that.”
“Do what?” I run my tongue over his lower lip, the way I’ve envisioned doing ever since meeting him.
He groans and tightens his grip on my hips. His hardness jerks slightly against my abdomen, tenting the fabric of his jeans. Its warmth seeping through my clothes is like an electric current, searing wherever it touches me, gathering in that slow pulsating sensation in my clit.
“Did you make yourself come again last night?” he asks in that drawl of his that screams sex.
“No.” The word comes out too breathy, too fast. I can tell from the way he looks at me that he doesn’t believe me. “No,” I say more slowly, avoiding his gaze.
Because for some reason, it wouldn’t have felt like you were doing it to me.
I shrug. “Didn’t feel like it.”
“We both know you’re lying.”
Without any forewarning, Kellan pulls back and helps me down from the counter, his eyes roaming my body, drinking me in. His hair is a disheveled mess, but it looks good on him. His lips are slightly swollen from our kiss. I bet I look just as affected, but the disheveled look probably doesn’t suit me as much as him.
“What?” My hands shoot up to straighten my clothes.
“I’m considering where to fuck you. Right now, I’m thinking it’s either against the kitchen counter or on the table.” His fingers begin to fumble with the zipper on my jeans. “Or I could do both.”
My breath catches in my throat as I watch him walk over to the door and lock up, then sit down on a chair.
Who the fuck has a lock on the door in the kitchen?
Someone who isn’t doing this for the first time.
“Take off all your clothes. I want to see you naked.”
I stare at him, unsure if I’ve heard him right. “It’s the middle of the day, Kellan.”
Think light streaming in through the window, bathing the kitchen in glaring brightness. I’m not usually the self-conscious type, but this is way too much light for presenting yourself naked to a man like him.
“Strip, Ava.” His tone is sharp, demanding. “I’m not expecting a lap dance.” His eyes glint, and the corners of his lips curl upward. “Not yet anyway. But I want you to do as I say when I say it.”
I shouldn’t be letting a guy tell me what to do, particularly not when I’m uncomfortable with his demand. But his charge is strangely arousing. Slowly, I unbutton my shirt and slide out of it, letting it fall into a bundle at my feet. Holding my breath, I pull my jeans down my hips and remove my bra. My breasts spill out, my nipples already beaded, ready to be sucked into his mouth.
I don’t remove my panties. Fighting the urge to cover my breasts with my hands, I just stand there a few feet from Kellan, waiting for his reaction.
He takes a sharp breath and moistens his lips.
“Damn.” That’s all he says.
Damn good? Damn bad? Damn nice weather?
I raise my brows. “Care to be more specific?”
“The panties.” He gestures at my lace panties impatiently. “Take them off.”
Sighing, I strip out of them and let them fall to my feet. Now I’m completely naked, exposed to his ardent scrutiny.
He takes his time running his gaze over my body, taking in every inch of me. His breathing is raspy.
“Come here,” he says eventually, and I amble over, stopping right in front of him.
He stands, towering over me as he leans forward to whisper in my ear while his leg moves to part my knees, “Show me how wet you are.”
It’s not a question; it’s a statement, as though he knows just how eager I am to have him inside me. As though he’d expect nothing else from me.
His fingers send shivers down my spine as they trail down my abdomen and settle at my entrance. My breath hitches, caught in my chest like a trapped bird. Holding my breath, I spread my legs a little wider to grant him easy access.
“You’re dripping. So ready.” Slowly, he dips the tip of one finger into me and then lifts it to his mouth and licks my moisture off it. “I like the way you taste and smell. I’ll like your slickness even more around my cock.”
No one’s ever talked like this to me before.
I don’t know how to react to it, so I just stare at him while he strips off his shirt, jeans, and underwear—all in a matter of seconds. The motion is so skillful, I can’t help but wonder how many times he’s practiced it and with how many women.
The pang of jealousy is ridiculous when I’m not interested in him emotionally whatsoever.
Instead of following the irritating thought, I look down and almost choke on my breath.
He’s huge. Way bigger than I remember. And so hard, I almost come from just looking at him. No wonder he only does casual. With a cock like that, he’s most certainly not short of eager women lining up at his door to get a good tumble between the sheets.
Hell, I’ve just turned into one of them.
I have to force my eyes away. Looking anywhere else but his hardness is good, and yet I keep stealing glances.
The tip is engorged, glistening with moisture. I watch him slide his hand up and down its length.
“You keep looking at me, Ava. And you should. This is how hard you make me, baby.”
I avert my eyes instantly, my already flushed cheeks catching fire.
He caught me staring. Again.
“No,” I say, but the lie’s so obvious it’s embarrassing.
“Look at me,” he commands as he begins to stroke himself, up and down, the gesture both intimate and familiar.
My tongue flicks across my lips.
“I want to help,” I whisper.
He groans but doesn’t take me up on the offer. “Say you want me to fill you up.”
I shake my head. Maybe other women talk to him like that, but I can’t.
“Tell me how much you want me inside you,” Kellan orders and lets go of his shaft. He inches closer, and his fingers brush the inside of my legs. His palm presses against my clitoris, the pressure unbearably hard and frustrating. I arch my hips forward, silently begging him to enter me.
I draw a sharp breath as two fingers move between my legs, settling against my mound.
“Is this what you want?” His fingers slide into me, filling me up like they did last night. I nod and tilt my head back, closing my eyes in the process. The pleasure is all consuming, frustratingly so because I won’t come from it. I need more.
“It’s not enough.” My words are barely more than a whisper.
“Then say you want me to fill you.” His voice is rough, the demand harsher than before. Through the lust-induced fog inside my brain, I can recognize a pattern. Just like stripping for him, this is an order he expects me to obey.
“I want you to fill me up,” I whisper.
“Tell me you want my cock inside you, fucking you so deep you’ll feel it for a week,” Kellan says. “Now, look at me.” His fingers leave my pussy and settle beneath my chin, forcing me to meet his heated gaze. “Say it.”
Without his fingers inside me, I feel empty. I’m eager to please him so we can finally get to the action. “I want to feel you for a week.”
“Good girl.” He smiles, seemingly pleased.
For a moment, he releases me and fumbles with his jeans. I look away, but the noise of a tearing foil wrapper is unmistakable. There’s something dirty about the way I just stand there, bathed in glowing brightness, waiting for a guy I barely know to pull on a condom.
I feel dirty. Surreal. Cheap.
And yet, I’m so turned on, I could make myself come within seconds.
Kellan’s hand slides across my ass, cupping it, lifting me up.
He takes my lip between his teeth and sucks it into his mouth a moment before his cock plunges into me—all the way in. I fli
He’s too big. I don’t think I can take it.
“Kellan.” His name erupts from my lips in a moan.
“Yes, baby. We’ll take it slow.”
But there’s nothing slow about the way he thrusts deeper inside me.
Another moan escapes my lips. I’ve never been so stretched. The pleasure is almost unbearable. I should be moving my hips in unison with his, but all I can do is claw at his shoulders, holding on for dear life.
Electric jolts course through me, bringing me higher and higher to the edge.
“You’re so wet and tight,” Kellan growls, the sound almost feral, strained.
He’s close. I can feel it from the way he twitches inside me.
“I’ve been picturing me fucking you like this for months,” he says.
That makes two of us.
His hand moves between my legs again and begins to caress my clitoris in quick, circular strokes, the motion rough, demanding.
“Yes,” I gasp. My legs begin to shake from the effort of having him inside me when he puts more pressure on my clitoris, the motion sending me over the edge.
Kellan’s mouth stifles my cry before it can erupt out of my chest while his cock continues to pump inside me, his heavy balls brushing my entrance.
“Oh, God.” I reach that peak and close my eyes, my head rolling backward. From the periphery of my mind, I can feel his one last thrust and hear his own cry of release. At some point, he slides out of me, and his arms wrap around my waist, pulling me close to him.
We remain silent as he’s holding me while my heartbeat barely slows down.
Sitting down, I draw the sunhat deeper over my face, not to protect me against the warm sunrays, but to stop the wind from whipping my hair against my skin.
“Is it always this windy?” I ask.
I’ve been in Montana for six days. The wind stopped only once.
“No.” Kellan lets himself fall next to me. “It can also get very cold. Winter’s always drawn out. Why? Do you miss the city already?” He pulls his hat back and looks at me, a blade of grass between his teeth.
Beautiful Distraction by J. C. Reed / History & Fiction have rating 4 out of 5 / Based on32 votes