Lana was hot as hell, and Taft wasn’t sure how he’d gotten so lucky. He had, though, and he wasn’t going to throw away his shot.
“Take me to bed,” she said.
That’s where Taft made his mistake, or at least that’s what he guessed later. He stood, tugging her to her feet. In a move he thought would be funny and sweet, he picked up Lana and threw her over his shoulder. “I drag you to my bedroom,” he roared. “Like a caveman!” She was so light he felt like he could carry her for hours. He tossed her onto his bed with a laugh.
Then Lana went sideways.
She launched at him like a wildcat. Yeah, she was into it – that didn’t seem to be the problem. She ripped at his belt buckle and tore his shirt in her haste to get his clothes off. She hit his hands away when he tried to help her with her own shirt and jeans. In a blurred few seconds, they were both naked.
Her skin was clammy, as if she was covered in sweat. “Hurry up,” she panted.
Was she actually okay? “Hey, slow down a sec.”
Lana bit at his mouth and Taft realized he hadn’t even kissed her yet. Not properly. He took her face in his hands and tried, but she pulled away with a brittle laugh.
“I don’t like slow,” she said.
“We have time.” He wanted to study her body, to run his hands down the planes of her ribs, to cup her ass, to see if she was sensitive at the back of her knee. He wanted to lose himself in exploring her.
“I don’t care.” She pushed him backward, hard, and then flung herself to straddle him. She had a condom in her hand – where had it even come from? – and she rolled it onto his cock, which was traitorously eager for her touch. He should slow this down – this didn’t feel right – but then she was on him, above him, taking him into her and moving fast. She was tight and wet, and God help him if he could stop her. Her breasts were high and small, her nipples dark.
But her eyes were closed, her chin turned so that even if they were open, she’d be looking out the window. Not at him.
And while she felt like sex on a stick, while he wanted to come so bad he literally hurt, it wasn’t right. He held her waist and slowed her. “Hey.”
She slapped at his hands. “Stop it. Let me.”
“Lana.” Using more force than he thought he would have to, he physically lifted her off him with a grunt. Then he scooted backward, panting, so his back was against the headboard, and she was straddling his knees. “This doesn’t feel right.”
“What?” Her mouth was a sneer. “Too much for you?”
“Hell, yeah!”
A surprised look crossed her face. “What?”
“If we’re going to do this, I want you here for it.”
She blew out a breath, pointing to her breasts with both hands. “I’m here. Naked. Did you not notice?”
She was so angry, Taft realized. At him, for some reason. “Did I scare you?”
Lana jerked at the sheet below them, pulling it up around her. “Scare me? No way.”
He wouldn’t rise to the bait. “What’s wrong? Tell me.”
Lana tossed her head. “Apart from the fact that now I have blue balls? Nothing.”
They were big words, meant to shock him, Taft knew, but then Lana rubbed her nose roughly and Taft saw through the move to what it was – she was trying not to cry.
“Birdie.” The word came easily to his lips, and he opened his arms. “Come here.” He’d hold her for a while, and listen to her heartbeat slow. Then maybe they could try again. Or maybe they’d wait and she’d sleep, and then he’d make her coffee and pancakes in the morning when the sun flooded yellow through his dining-room windows.
She flopped onto her back instead, throwing off the sheet. “I’m just going to get myself off, that okay with you?”
She wasn’t really checking in with him, that was clear.
Taft lost his breath as she reached down between her legs. Her fingers – the ones he’d watched play her guitar so adroitly and emotionally on stage – did the same with her clit. She played her own body well, her back arching, her cheeks reddening. She turned her head to look at him, her eyes dark with lust. “You do it, too. You touch yourself. I want to watch.”
But Taft’d had just about enough of being ordered around in his own bed by a total stranger. “Nope.”
“Come on.”
He laughed. Her voice was imperious. This was a woman who took care of herself, who was used to getting her way. He loved it. “You’re so fucking hot, woman, but I’m just going to watch and there’s nothing you can do about that.” He slid down the bed so her body was flush against his. He could smell her: lightly floral with a slight musk of desire. His cock pressed against her hip, and with incredible effort, he restrained himself from pushing against her. He palmed her belly and felt the muscles contracting there as she continued to touch herself.
“Fine,” she growled. “Whatever.” She arched again and kept her eyes closed, her fingers thrumming faster.
Well, hell. She was already pissed off at him.
So he kissed her.
She gasped, but she didn’t draw away. Her mouth was soft – so much softer than he’d expected, and smaller, too. She tasted like tequila and something lightly minty. Taft had the feeling that he could kiss her for a year or seven without getting tired of the feeling. She breathed into his mouth and then kissed him back. Taft felt the bed lurch below him.
Her mouth was hot, so much hotter now. Her tongue met his and the kiss went deeper, harder. She challenged him and he responded. Her teeth clacked softly against his, and she gave a moan low in her throat that made him almost blind with desire. He’d never felt so hard in his whole life, and it didn’t matter – the only thing that mattered was that she made herself happy.
Her hand was moving faster now, and he could hear how wet she was. He kissed her harder – she gave a small cry.
In a surprise move, she grabbed his hand from her stomach, moving it to her pussy. “In?” she said against his mouth. This time it wasn’t an order. It was a question.
He slipped one finger inside her. “More,” she demanded, but he was in charge now.
“Maybe.” He drew his head back so he could look down at her. Her whole body felt flushed and hot, and her skin was pink at her chest. She arched again, pushing herself against his hand as she kept working.
“More!”
“Who am I to argue with a lady?” He gave her lip a quick nip, and then pushed three fingers inside her. He curved his hand so he could stroke her G-spot, and she gave a scream. He felt her start to come, the muscles inside her clenching so hard it almost hurt. Good thing he was used to strumming. He caressed her velvety, wet skin, pressing, pushing. Lana held his wrist, holding his hand inside her as she bucked against him, and her other hand continued to play her clit. He kissed her then, claiming her mouth as his, and she gave it to him as if it was what she wanted more than anything, and her eyes flew open and she looked right at him, right into him, and then she came around his hand with a roar.
Lana shattered.
It felt like a gift.
He got ten seconds – maybe fifteen – of her lying quietly next to him, her chest heaving. Then she rolled away from him and was off the bed in an instant.
“Hey.”
She ignored him as she put on her clothes. She didn’t meet his eye.
“Wait.” Lana was back to pushing him away, back to being angry, and he had no idea why.
Lana gave him a scathing glance. “Hey, pal, you don’t need me. If I have to get myself off, then you do, too.”
“I couldn’t give a shit about that.”
She looked surprised at his vehemence, but not enough to slow her stride. Still stark naked, Taft followed her. “Tell me what the hell just happened back there.”
She pulled open the door and was gone before he could even repeat the words.
He sat on the couch, the leather cool on his heated skin. He took a deep breath.
What the actual fuck?