Color My Heart: A Red Hot Summer story. (4 page)

Hannah loved to watch him put it on, the way his big, tanned hands efficiently slid along his shaft as the rubber unrolled. “My dick’s so hard for you, baby,” he whispered.

Hannah burned, sweating, shaking, craving him more than ever. She placed her hands on his shoulders and frantically rubbed her breasts against his chest, her pussy pulsing and soaked. “Billy, I want you inside me.”

He lifted his hands to her cheeks. He stroked her lips, her jaw, her temple. His gaze glowed with fierce need, but his caresses felt so tender she wanted to sigh. “Look at you,”

he said in a hoarse, textured whisper, “all flushed and ready for me.”

He boosted her up and she instinctively curled her legs around him. His hands cupped her ass and gently lowered her to his cock. She felt the folds part, stretch as he came in. He entered slowly, letting her feel the slide of each inch, until she felt full with Billy wide and massive inside her. His hands squeezed her buttocks as he groaned. “Oh fuck, sweetheart, you’re so tight.”

She whimpered when he began to play again in the outskirts of her ass, teasing the entrance with tiny strokes of his finger. Hannah wiggled in his arms. “Put it inside me, Billy, please, put it inside me.”

“You sure? Because I’ll be pounding you hard.”

Hannah gripped his shoulders and could barely exhale a breath as his finger pierced into her ass, causing her to arch. “Oh God, it feels so good.”

“Oh yeah? You like that?” He curled one arm snugly around her waist as he withdrew to the head, then plunged back in with a deep thrust. “As good as this, Hannah?”

Nothing was as good as this. As good as Billy. Sheathed inside her.

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Her pussy squeezed around him with a slow, milking rhythm, drawing his length in deeper. Her hands trembled violently as she cupped his face. “Billy, kiss me.”

He did kiss her. He covered her lips with his and swept his tongue into her mouth, the heat and taste of him invading her.

His kiss consumed her as his tongue stabbed her in rhythm to his thrusts.

Compared to the first time they’d fucked—more like rutted like animals—the pace he set now was painfully slow. A sharp awareness knifed through her at each deep glide of his hot, satiny cock inside her. She felt weightless, and her mind swam in a haze of sensations. His soapy, sweaty scent filled her lungs until she felt invaded everywhere inside.

“Let me see how we’re doing back here,” he whispered, his breath warm on her face.

She felt his finger leave her for the barest second, then return with a harsh plunge.

She screamed, riding him viciously, needing to come now—now that her ass stretched and her pussy burned. He twisted his finger inside her and she sobbed with pleasure, her nipples throbbing with pain.

“That feel good, baby?”

“Yes, oh yes, Billy, do it again.”

He twisted into her ass again, causing her to push back against his hand, desperate to take in more when he was only sliding in about half of it. She whimpered when it almost hurt, the pleasure acute, sharp, tearing inside her. “Oh, God!” she cried.

“Take it in, Hannah, take all of me in.” Lodging that finger in deep, he rammed her pussy with harsh, rampant thrusts that rattled her to the bones. “Oh fuck, I love fucking you.”

She screeched as the pressure built inside her, a ball of fire ready to burst. “Yes,
yes
.”

“Fuck me, baby. Harder. Make me come. That’s right, make me come, Hannah.”

Hannah fucked him like her life depended on it. She screamed a sharp, ear-splitting cry when her orgasm hit her. Torrents of pleasure crashed across her body, shaking her to 26

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the core. Billy plunged in deep and followed her. His head fell back with a roar, his body jerking uncontrollably.

Hannah felt herself soar, suddenly blinded with colors. Bright fiery reds and vibrant purples and greens and blues…so many blues…

The hues were fiery, magnificent, as they exploded before her eyes, creating a masterpiece that a simple hand could never create. Like those colors, emotions tumbled inside her, torn loose from their confinement.

The way you make me feel, Billy Hendricks…

As he buried his nose into her hair and breathed in her scent, Hannah couldn’t shake off the eerie sensation of being owned.

It took a while to gain complete control of her senses, and in the meantime she gloried in the safe, protected environment of Billy’s arms.

He pressed his lips to her temple and murmured, “Urghm.”

She giggled. “Is that supposed to mean something, Billy?”

“Yeah.” He spoke at last, drawing back to look at her. “It means at what time should I pick you up tomorrow? Take you downstairs to the party?”

Hannah stiffened in his arms and her stomach cramped. “We-we said we’d keep it casual.”

He flashed her a grin. “I thought we could renegotiate.”

And suddenly the weight of his arms around her felt an entire world heavier.

Holding her breath while a thousand thoughts scrambled inside her, she carefully unwound her body from his. She avoided his gaze, took the discarded brush to the kitchen sink and ran the water to clean it. “I don’t think so,” she finally said.

Billy remained against the wall, then he sighed dejectedly. His arms spread by his sides and he shook his head. “Hannah, this isn’t doing it for me.”

No, no, no,
no
!

Twisting the faucet closed, she set the brush down on the counter. Her eyes met his, her lips starting to tremble. “We said no dates, no staying the night, nothing except…sex.

A casual summer fling sort of thing.”

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He took a cautious step forward, his voice threateningly low. “I know what we said, Hannah.”

It seemed incredible how, with that inexorable look on his face, his dark brown hair mussed from their lovemaking, his naked body glistening with sweat, and having come twice in his arms, Hannah could still want him so much. Her breasts felt full and her body sang to his presence, and she had a crowded sensation in her chest she couldn’t seem to ease no matter how deep a breath she took.

Seeking the extra support, she braced one hand on the edge of the counter to her right as she carefully weighed each word. “Billy, please let’s not ruin this. If I
do
go to the party, just remember we’re…friends. Okay?”

He said nothing but rather stared at her for the longest moment with an expression so intent she felt like cringing. Then he let out a long, put-out sigh and bent to pick up his clothes.

He dressed in record speed and Hannah watched with a sunken heart as he made his way to the door.

He stopped before opening it and gazed at her with a solemn, heart-wrenching look on his face. “I know someone hurt you, Hannah,” he said in a deceptively soft murmur,

“but I’m not him.” Then he quietly shut the door behind him.

Based on the horrible feeling that gripped her inside, Hannah had the distinct impression things had just taken a turn for the worse.

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Chapter Three

The world today doesn’t make sense, so why should I paint pictures that do?

Pablo Picasso

Music stirred the nighttime air, mingled with the sounds of laughter and voices.

Wearing a simple black dress and a pair of black pumps she hadn’t worn in ages, Hannah descended into the lit, sparsely decorated back gardens of their complex. The warm summer breeze stirred her hair and the knee-length skirt of her dress.

Flattening a hand on her thighs to keep her skirt in place, Hannah scanned the crowd littered across the lawn and glimpsed Margie’s familiar face pop up inside the pool.

The older woman’s words had skidded through her mind most of the night. Yes, there were a lot of good catches in the building.

The tall, blond Lance over by the punch bowl, the muscled Kent with his short, army-cut black hair lounging in his trunks beside the pool. And Billy. Of course Billy.

His gorgeous face like a beacon amid strangers as he stood among a group of friends, amiably chatting.

Hannah froze when she spotted him and her nipples pricked in an instant. Lance might have the Hummer, but Billy Hendricks had
every
thing.

Killer looks, personality, charisma.

He was so easy to be around.

Even now, among a group of six, he somehow managed to involve everyone in the conversation. His eyes met those of the person who spoke, his smile warm and engaging.

Billy was kind. He was tender and sweet and…

Hannah stopped herself, wanting to pull her hair out in frustration. Damn it, she
knew
this would happen. She was falling for him. Hard.

Harder than ever.

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Just the sight of him with his hair damp from a recent bath and those clean-cut khaki slacks slung low across his hips made her want to run to him. She had heart palpitations, weakened limbs and trouble focusing. In short, she was done for.

On her way to The Brad Kingman Disaster all over again.

She’d end up as his doormat. And not just that, but as his personal bank, too. He’d drain her of what little savings Brad—the king of bullshit himself—hadn’t managed to wheedle out of her, maybe even use the same story of opening a business so they could get married. And then she’d find him in bed with a bombshell redhead—maybe even the same one Brad had fucked. And then. Why yes, then Hannah would be devastated.

Again.

That time she’d walked in on Brad and his slut, getting comfy in a sixty-nine on his bed, Hannah hadn’t even reached her apartment before she’d fallen apart.

And then this tall, muscled god had appeared, with faded jeans and a solid blue T-shirt. His expressive brown eyes had glistened in concern and his smile had been simply breathtaking. All Hannah had wanted right then and there was…

She wasn’t sure exactly.

Maybe to know someone found her desirable. Maybe to feel connected to someone, if only for a few minutes. Maybe she’d wanted revenge, to prove to herself and to that bastard Brad that she wasn’t going to let him break her.

She’d never expected to continue with the affair.

But she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about Billy after that first time. Billy’s deep baritone, speaking to her as he’d filled her, slammed his cock into her, played like a song in her head. Interminably.

All night she’d replayed his words in her head and suffered the effect those same words had caused all over again. Then she’d fretted over what she’d do when she saw him next. How embarrassing it would be. And yet by the second day, the thought of not seeing him seemed much worse.

Four days and three sleepless nights later, she’d decided it would be best to keep it friendly. So she’d gone by his place to ask for sugar. Like none of the three doors 30

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between them had some. He’d opened the door shirtless and wearing only his jeans, stared at her for a long moment, then he’d stepped back to let her in.

Gone speechless, Hannah had held out her tiny sugar cup with trembling hands, her every cell blooming to his presence.

His gentle yet penetrating gaze never left her face as he pushed the door shut behind her, slowly pried the cup out of her grasp, and wrapped his free arm around her waist.

“Yeah. Me too,” he’d whispered before he kissed her.

Oh, God, how well he’d fucked her that night…and each one after.

Yes, Billy was different.

But Hannah recalled having thought that of
all
the other guys.

Now her savings were next to zero, her pride still smarted from the blow of that no-good cheater, and if it hadn’t been for Billy—she’d be in therapy by now and gone flat broke from it. But now she was needy for him instead of some psychiatrist and ached for the steady, solid feel of his body against hers, intoxicated by the way he made her feel.

Hannah could not let that happen.

They’d said it would just be sex, not exclusive, not obligatory, just sex.

She snickered to herself. She’d bite her toes if what they had was just sex. Because here she was, a breath away from believing in happily ever after again.

Well. She hadn’t worn this stupid dress for nothing. And as Margie had said, there were excellent catches in the building. Other than Billy.

“Don’t think I’ve seen you before,” a masculine drawl said from nearby. Turning toward the voice, she watched the tall, green-eyed Lance approach, a drink in each hand, and he slowly extended one out to her.

She accepted the offering, saying, “Hannah.” She cocked her head toward the building behind her, adding, “221”, and a dazzling smile to go with that.

“Lance,” he said then.

Very sultrily, as if she’d been waiting for him her whole life, she whispered, “I know,” and lifted the foam cup to her lips, studying all six feet of Lance with womanly appreciation. “Nice to meet you, Lance.”

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“Oh, the pleasure is all mine.”

Was it really?

She stared at him with eyes that sparkled like those of the besotted. The solution to her problem was suddenly so obvious, Lance could’ve worn a sign on his forehead that read, “Your Way Out of Incoming Disaster”.

Wishing to God this wouldn’t be a mistake she would regret for like, forever, Hannah leaned forward and placed a hand on his shoulder. “So, Lance, is there anything real to drink around here?”

Ignoring the conversation around him, Billy watched Hannah as she laughed over something Lance said. He could hear her rich, throaty laugh all the way across the patio and he suspected she’d intended it that way. He sat on one of the foldout chairs across the lawn, his drink untouched over his knee, a hand curled around it.