Make Me, Take Me Page 2

  “Where are you staying?” she asked.

  “Right next door.”

  He kept kissing her, his hand cupping her ass, moving her up and down on his thigh. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, trying to brace herself against the waves of hot bliss that knocked the words from her mouth. Second thoughts crowded her brain. Just because they’d been eye-fucking each other all night and he had the patience to wait her out didn’t mean this was a good idea. “Can I assume you have condoms and no means no, just in case I change my mind?”

  “I like your use of the plural as it relates to condoms, and I have plenty. But we both know no means maybe or you wouldn’t be kissing me.” When she tensed, his grip tightened. “Before you flounce off with your feminist principles in an uproar, let’s make a deal. Stop means stop, but I consider no a challenge. I’ve been sitting here all night thinking of things I’d like to do to you, and I want to make you say yes.”

  “Make me?” She searched his eyes, seeing determination and so much lust she quivered. He gazed back at her with equal absorption. What did he see in her depths?

  But she knew.

  Softness to his hardness. Give to his take. Surrender. He was every fantasy she’d ever had and denied she wanted. She’d never met a man strong enough to make her do anything. She didn’t want to. She had her own plans for her future, but she was fascinated with the way he made her feel. She wasn’t going to say stop. “Just for tonight.”

  “That’s all I’ve got.” That slow smile spread across his mouth. Oh dear God, that smile was lethal. Carnal. It ought to come with a warning. He trapped her against the bar and pressed his hardness into her hip. I guess the smile is the warning.

  “Six hours gives a man a lot of time to think about every imaginable way to make a woman come. Let’s get out of here.”

  She nodded and led him to the side door, keyed the alarm code, and followed him into the alley, locking the door behind them. He put his arm around her as they walked to the street, and she leaned into his hard body. The scent of his warm skin mixed with his spicy cologne and the scent of her arousal made her tighten in anticipation.

  Neither of them spoke as they entered his hotel, but her breath caught at the beauty and luxury of her surroundings as it always did when she stepped into the neighboring hotel. She studied him while he watched the numbers on the floors drop, amused by his obvious impatience. On a normal night, she wouldn’t be caught dead with a rich suit like him. Everything she was wearing probably cost less than one of his shoes. She made a bet with herself during the elevator ride and won it when he opened the door to his suite. It was as big as her apartment and then some. She stood in the doorway, taking it in.

  “Impressed?”

  “Nope. Lots of money usually means no scruples, soul, or conscience. I absolutely can’t stand guys who think they can get whatever they want by paying for it.”

  His chuckle tickled the back of her neck as he nudged her into the room and locked the door behind them. “Then why are you here?”

  “I’m making a one-time exception.”

  “Lucky for me.” He swept her into his arms and carried her down the hall, kicking open the door of a dark bedroom. He dropped her onto the bed and followed her down, stretching out beside her. His tongue traced her lips in a teasing kiss while his hand cupped her breast. Her skin tingled, coming alive at his touch. She held her breath as his hand moved downward, catching the hem of her short skirt and pulling it to the top of her thighs. He slipped his thumb under the crotch of her panties, and the hot slide of his touch made her moan.

  “You’re soaked.” His voice was rough. “Soft and smooth, like you’ve been wanting this as much as I have tonight.”

  She bit her lip, trying not to tremble, on fire from his touch. He wasn’t doing anything complicated, just moving his thumb back and forth, but the pleasure was sharp, intense, almost too much to handle. Her head thrashed against the pillows as his mouth whispered over her breasts, tonguing her nipples through her tank. His teeth grazed her neck, and she strained against him as his thumb sank into her body.

  Suddenly, he rose to his knees and pulled her hips into the center of the bed. He thrust her skirt up to circle her waist, and yanked her panties and her sandals off at the same time. He settled between her thighs, and she lost her breath on a ragged moan.

  His lips were firm and relentless, no tentative exploration, no slow discovery of what she liked. He seemed to know, ravaging her with his tongue while his hands held her hips in place. A flash fantasy of him on top, driving into her, his fingers manacling her wrists, made her eyes slam shut and her mouth fall open in a raw gasp. She wanted him inside, in control, driving her wild, and he seemed to be on exactly the same page. The thought of him taking her every way he’d imagined made her whimper, and she fought the urge to beg him to hold her down. Then she remembered she’d never see him again. Why did she care if he knew her secret desires?

  “Hold my wrists,” she whispered. “Make me.”

  His grip on her hips tightened, and a thrill shot through her. She writhed against his lips, close, so close. She needed him to lick her again, right there, hold her tighter, just a little harder…

  She screamed when he took his mouth away.

  “Easy, sweetheart. Hang on. You’ll like this even better.”

  He moved her feet to his shoulders and grabbed her wrists, using them as leverage to pull her back to his mouth. Her legs were trapped between their bodies, knees bent in a deliciously confining position. His tongue speared deep inside her, fucking her in short strokes, and then his mouth fastened over her clit, sucking, and then rubbing with his tongue, all the while pulling her closer, tighter, harder, until she had nowhere to go. Every muscle tensed, and then ecstasy slammed through her. She howled against the onslaught, unable to move, yet needing to ease the pressure somehow. She thrust against him with her heels, but he crowded closer, trapping her hands against her hips, holding her captive.

  His tongue slowed but didn’t stop, tracing leisurely patterns, until she collapsed on the bed, taking deep, shuddering breaths and blinking away the spots dancing before her eyes. Her scalp prickled with sweat, and every inch of skin burned. She sighed as he slid up to spoon her, feeling like every bone in her body had melted. “That was…oh my God…um…” She searched for the right words, but her brain couldn’t move either.

  His warm breath brushed the back of her neck as he chuckled. He pulled her hips into the curve of his, and his cock rubbed against her ass. Her breath whooshed out of her lungs. Impossibly, she got hotter. He might be the opposite of everything she usually liked in a man, but she wanted him so badly she shamelessly ground her ass against him, lost to the fire building between them. Not me. This is not me. Just for tonight.

  He yanked her skirt down over her hips and threw it off the bed. As she pulled her shirt over her head, she heard the muffled sound of his jacket hitting the floor, a zipper, more fabric rustling, and the sound of plastic ripping.

  “Condom is all set.” He slid back into place behind her, and the sudden warmth of his hard body made her groan in pleasure. She felt his teeth nip her neck as he rolled on top of her, pressing her face-down into the bed. She imagined him taking her from behind, and arousal slammed through her in a sizzling rush. As if he’d read her mind, he lifted her hips, tenting her body over the bed and then shoving pillows under her.

  “Are you comfortable in this position?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “One more taste.” His breath whispered over her, making her quiver, then his tongue was inside her. She pressed her face into the comforter to muffle her moans. Without the pillows, she would have collapsed from the hot pleasure of his tongue teasing her up to the edge, the cool arousal of saliva on her skin when he pulled away. She felt his cock against her opening and thrust back, hard, seating him deep, and gasped, nearly climaxing just from having him inside her. She bucked her hips back and forth, wanting to feel that invasion again and a
gain.

  He fell forward, pinning her. “Oh no, you don’t. Be still. You want me to make you, remember? I want to make you.”

  He caught her arms and held them over her head with one hand. He thrust the other hand beneath her, finding her clit and circling it with his fingers while his cock slid in and out. Each slow glide pushed her closer to the peak, but she was helpless, pinned by his hips and hands, unable to reach for it. She scrambled for purchase, wanting to increase the friction, change the angle, anything that would take her higher, but she couldn’t get her knees under her, and the sense of helplessness was the most erotic thing she’d ever known.

  His fingers rubbed harder, and his hips moved faster. She stopped fighting and pressure built, as if everything inside her was waiting while the storm gathered. She held her breath. Faster, harder, tighter.

  And then he stopped. “Tell me you want me.” His voice was harsh in her ear. “And I’ll make you come.”

  Was he serious? “Get moving, you jerk.” She nearly sobbed.

  “Ask nicely.” He resumed a lazy rhythm.

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” She groaned. His silence told her he wasn’t. Was he kinky? Did he want to hear her beg? She took a deep breath, tempted to tell him to stop. She could finish the job herself, right in front of him. That would teach him. However, the words bubbled into her head and the thought of saying them made her shudder with need. Why not just say it? She’d never see him again.

  “I want you,” she whispered. “Please…please make me come.”

  He hammered into her, and stars burst behind her eyelids as her body detonated. One spasm set off another, and she quaked beneath him. She heard him groan, felt him tense, and she chanted the word please over and over again as she exploded with him.

  Chapter Two

  Betsy woke with her heart pounding. She curled into the pillow with her eyes closed. Her body felt heavy and hot, and her thighs were slick with sweat. She moaned softly and realized her own sighs had awakened her.

  Two years away at school. Ten months back home in the French Quarter. And she still woke up wet. Ridiculous. One night with Quinton James had ruined her. That was not part of my plan.

  Of course, neither was discovering the restaurant business was even more punishing than the bar business. Lila and Jenna, her BFFs from culinary school, had warned her opening a restaurant wasn’t easy, but her hard work, both now and the two arduous years at school, would be worth every second when her mom and sister didn’t have to sling drinks until dawn, wrangling drunks and dodging pick-up lines from married men looking for more than a heavy pour. The bar life was no life at all, and Betsy would work herself to the bone, to her very marrow, to give her family a better life.

  She rolled out of bed and into her clothes, still exhausted but already running late. She’d underestimated the amount of work it would take to turn the bar into a café, but she was this close to showing her mother and sister that the Last Call Café could be as profitable as the bar. If the lunch business stayed steady for the next two months, her mother had promised to close the bar and let Betsy open for dinner. Of course, that would mean more work for her, but she had a plan.

  Caffeine. Lots and lots of caffeine.

  Betsy hustled into her clothes and out the door. If she hurried, she’d have time to stop at Café du Monde. Her mouth watered, and she could almost taste the powdered sugar and café au lait drizzle she would stir up in her saucer, smell the hot burst of steam exploding from a fresh beignet, and feel the heat of a sweet coffee buzz. She pulled cash from her pocket as she approached the Café.

  “Hey, pretty lady, can I sing you a song?” The elderly minstrel wore a tuxedo, even though it was barely eight o’clock in the morning, and his guitar case lay open on the sidewalk in front of him.

  She swallowed a groan as the smell of coffee nearly made her swoon and smiled at him, dropping the bills into the purple velvet-lined case. She could make coffee at work. “No time for a song, but thanks.”

  “Thank you, pretty lady. God bless.”

  She walked faster as she cut around Jackson Square, wincing as she always did when she turned onto her street and caught sight of the under-construction hotel next to Last Call. Many things had changed for the better while she was gone, but the gorgeous building next door had morphed into a plate-glass monstrosity painted a dull shade of gray. Other French Quarter hotels were owned by chains but managed to incorporate the unique charm and grace of the region into their signature facades. Not this one. It was going to be a Keystone Hotel, identical to the dozen or so across the country, the best-of-the-best, ultra-modern, an exquisite travel experience according to the buzz, but every one of them looked exactly like the others, taking branding to ridiculous levels. She would rather stay in a one-of-a-kind bed-and-breakfast with no wifi than spend a single night in soulless luxury.

  The only good thing about the change was it kept her from thinking about the night she’d spent there with Quin. On cue, her skin tingled as she hurried past the hotel. Or not. Knowing she’d never see him again had eighty-sixed her inhibitions that night. She’d done things with him she’d never do if she had to maintain a relationship in the light of day, and he’d been right there with her, insatiable, shameless, anticipating her desires, especially when it came to taking control. A small groan of longing built in her throat. Until that night, she’d categorized multiple orgasms with unicorns, the Holy Grail, and free parking, but he’d proved her wrong. Repeatedly. She’d had to force herself out of bed the next morning and had left without waking him up to say good-bye because she’d feared he would tempt her into another round of the best sex…ever. Even without making more memories, forgetting him was turning out to be a challenge.

  She glanced into the window of the building on the other side of Last Call before she unlocked the gate. The candy store had been empty for months and still showed no sign of life. Things didn’t stay empty for long in the Quarter, and curiosity was killing her. Time would tell, but she sure as hell wished it would tell faster.

  She tugged the padlock free and shut the gate behind her, but before she’d taken ten steps, it swung open again. She whirled, startled, and then she stared. Her skin flushed hot, and her heart hammered. Could lack of sleep and caffeine withdrawal cause hallucinations? If so, this was a beauty. He looked as if he’d stepped out of her morning dream: sexy dark suit, gleaming golden-brown eyes, and wicked grin. She blinked rapidly—no, he was definitely real. There were faint lines around his mouth, and he looked weary. In her dreams, he was never tired.

  “Quin,” she gasped. “What are you doing here?”

  “Opening my new hotel and making plans for expansion.” His slow smile wreaked havoc on her already taxed heart as he jerked a thumb at the building next door. He stopped in front of her, broad shoulders seeming to span the width of the narrow alley. “Just got into town and saw you walk past my office window. How are you?”

  “You’re the new owner? You own the Keystone Hotel?”

  “I own all of them. Hotels, remember?”

  She nodded, trying to shake her brain into action, but she felt like she’d walked into a time warp. They were standing in the alley in broad daylight, more than two years after their night together, but her body remembered him—instantly, intimately, and inappropriately. Her mouth watered at his scent: spicy cologne, crisp cotton, and warm skin. Her hands clenched into fists, fingers itching to touch the luxurious still-too-long layers of his hair. When he held out his hand, her nipples peaked, and she went hot and wet at her center.

  She slid her hand into his, and a lightning bolt of lust shot through her. Her head fell back, and her gaze caught his, seeing the reflection of her desire. His grip tightened.

  “Oh, fuck it,” he said roughly, closing in. His lips slanted over hers, stealing her breath. She buried her hands in his hair, and he lifted her up, pinning her against the alley wall, arms cushioning her back. He rocked against her, turning her bones to butter, and she arch
ed into him, wrapping her legs around his waist. They fit together perfectly, no space between them, every part of her welcoming his touch. Alarm shot through her.

  “Whoa…hey. Wait. Stop.” The magic word whipped out of her mouth.

  His arms hardened, squeezing, but then he set her on her feet and stepped back fast. She straightened her clothes and dragged the back of her hand across her mouth. One night. She’d allowed herself to surrender to him for one night because she’d never see him again. Now he’d bought the hotel next door? And she was making out with him in the alley like they were going to pick up where they’d left off? That wasn’t going to happen. She wasn’t that woman, never had been.

  If he was looking for more of what had happened between them, he was flat out of luck. She wasn’t spending more than one night with a player who had women stashed in cities all over the country, every one of them hoping for more than she was ever going to get. Betsy had already gotten what she wanted from him.

  “Sorry.” He dragged his hand through his hair. “It’s good to see you.”

  She nodded, struggling to hide the evidence of how good. Her body was a traitor. “I can’t believe you bought the hotel next door.”

  “Yup—we’re neighbors. Have dinner with me tonight.”

  “I can’t… I don’t…” She stammered, trying to think of a polite excuse until she realized he hadn’t asked it like it was a question. Why should she be polite? She glared at him. “No.”

  “You know how I feel about the word no.” The gold gleam in his eyes kindled her memory. “Lunch, then. There’s something I need to discuss with you.”

  “I don’t eat lunch—I make it. And we have nothing to discuss. I’m late for work.” She hurried for the door to the bar before he could guess her thoughts were taking a turn for the naked.