Stuck: A Secrets and Lies prequel by Booth, Ainsley (e books for reading .TXT) 📕

move to the next piece, a painting that’s mostly atmospheric, and finally stop in front of a statue set into a nook on the wall. “I love all of it. She has great taste.”

“She’ll get a kick out of that compliment, and from a fellow creator, too.”

I turn my head and smile at him. “I still haven’t told you my pen name. Maybe I made all of that up because of our ice demon story.”

“Did you?”

I don’t answer. “We started an interesting conversation in the elevator.”

He’s taken off his suit jacket as well as his overcoat, and I reach out, pressing my hands against the soft, white cotton shirt stretched across his broad chest. He’s bigger now than in university. But he’s also grown into his body.

“I wrote a poem about you once,” I murmur as I trace the shape of his body.

He shudders. “There once was an asshole from Toronto?”

I burst out laughing. “No. It’s nice. It’s called…” I trail off and step back. He moves closer. I step back again, and we pace across the loft like that, him chasing me.

By the time we reach the floor-to-ceiling windows on the far side, my body is humming.

“Hazel,” he growls. “Tell me.”

“The sounds I imagine you make.” I whisper as he cages me in against the cold glass. “A growly burr/A slow fade into exhalation/A groan/A gasp.”

“I’ll groan for you,” he whispers as he unzips my hoodie.

I close my eyes as he finds the bare skin at my waist, then slides his hands underneath my t-shirt, against my belly. My ribs. Just shy of my breasts. “When I’m on my knees/Or above you, head curved low.”

“Will you suck me? I’d like nothing more than to see my cock in your beautiful mouth.”

I smile and keep going. “Beneath you, shifting/As you pin my arms against the bed.”

He groans now, for real, and buries his face in my neck. Open-mouthed. Wet, hungry. He sucks on my skin as heat ratchets up between us. But I’m not done yet.

“I would love to wring your pleasure/In a thousand ways/As the sounds I imagine you make/Get me every time.” I gasp when I finish. “Sam, please.”

He lifts his head, his eyes dark and glittering. “Tell me that’s in the poem. Sam, please. Nothing would make me happier. I’d die a king in my own mind.”

I grin. “It’s not, but I’ll write it out for you that way if you make me come twice tonight.”

“What do I get for the third and fourth orgasm?”

“I see you’re still cocky in some regards.”

“Only my commitment to your satisfaction, my sexy little poet.” He kisses me again, deep and intensely, his tongue rough and perfect and then soft, which is perfect, too. “Turn around.”

I spin in his arms, my hoodie being discarded in the process, and I gasp. The storm has picked up in a sudden flurry of white mess. We’re up high enough we can see that flakes aren’t just falling to the ground, but being pushed upwards by the wind as well. It’s a rolling, angry fight of the elements.

“The ice demon’s still not pleased,” Sam murmurs in my ear. “What’s wrong now?”

“Maybe he’s not angry,” I pant. “Maybe he’s worked up. Excited.”

Through his suit pants and my yoga pants, I can feel the thick length of Sam’s cock. It twitches, a heavy push against the curve of my ass. He nips at the curve of my ear.

I’m pressed against the glass, and if it weren’t snowing, someone on the street below would be able to see me. But right now, we’re all alone up here. Lovers caught in the middle of a snow globe.

“Do you want to fuck me here, Sam? Up against the window?”

His teeth scrape against the nape of my neck. “I want to stretch you out on my bed and pin you down.” He finds my arms and wraps his fingers around my wrists. “Unless you want it here.”

I want his cock in my mouth first. I want to crawl around on top of him and taste him, make gasp. But I like the squeeze of his fingers on my arms. I want more. Harder.

“Harder,” I say, repeating my inner thought. “If you like.”

“Oh, I like.” He tightens his grip, but his thumbs stay soft and stroke up and down on my skin as he presses against me obscenely. “You can ask me for anything, Hazel. I want to consume you in every possible way. I want to crawl between your thighs and kiss you there, too. I want to taste your breasts, your belly, your back. Your ass. Every inch of you. Do you like all of that hard, or sometimes soft?”

“Yes,” I breathe.

It doesn’t matter what we do. Not really. All of it will be right, because I can’t pretend any longer.

As messed up as it is, Sam is the one who got away. And that’s a good thing, but my body doesn’t care. I’m back in university, about to do something reckless and crazy hot. A gorgeous, glorious mistake.

I tug against his tight grip on my wrists. He doesn’t let go, and my thighs tremble all the way from my knees up to the slick, swollen space between them.

“Tell me, Hazel,” he croons in my ear. My pussy floods with a fresh wave of arousal. “Tell me how hard you want it.”

“Force me to my knees,” I gasp. “Make me suck you.”

Chapter 4

Sam

Blood pounds in my ears. In my cock. Deep in my belly, where nerves threaten to take over.

But tonight, what Hazel wants, Hazel gets. I drop my hands to her shoulders and spin her around.

“You sure about this?” I ask it as roughly as I just grabbed her. Hard, unyielding. As if this is a final chance to say no, but of course it’s not. I’ll be gentle with her, in spirit if not in body.

Her eyes are wide. But the corners of her mouth curl up in a slow, knowing smile as I slide one hand