For the First Time: Twenty-One Brand New Stories of First Love (14 page)

Too much sensation. Too much pleasure. I tip over the edge, screaming my release around Aidan’s shaft. My vision dims, and I arch as a violent pleasure tears through me, searing me with heat that radiates through every cell in my body.

“Jesus. Fuck. She’s hot.” Aidan thrusts so deep I choke. He lets out a ragged groan, and I feel his climax, his cock pumping in my throat.

He pulls out just as I am on the verge of panic, and I suck in a deep breath. Dan pulls out with a tortured groan that tells me he hasn’t had his release.

“Dan?”

“Later, sweetheart.”

I collapse on the bed, roll to my back. Aidan and Dan settle down on either side of me. Dan is still erect, his shaft hard and hot to the touch.

“I was surprised when you called your limit, Dan.” Aidan runs his hand idly over my body, tracing my curves, my breasts, the soft down of my mound. “You’re damn possessive. I didn’t pick that up when we first met.”

“I didn’t know I still felt that way,” Dan says. “After that first kiss, it took a lot of restraint not to pick you up and toss you through the window.”

“Well, then I’ll enjoy her while I can.” Aidan leans over and brushes a kiss over my cheek.

They touch me while we chat about his encounters, the people we know, sports and vacations in which we share an interest. Hands on my breasts, fingers on my pussy, lips on my skin. The entire experience is almost surreal. Dan’s erection presses into my side, and soon I am wet, throbbing, and needing to come all over again.

“Playtime is over,” Dan says abruptly.

Aidan gives me one last kiss on the cheek. “I didn’t think you’d make it this long.” He pulls on his clothes and gives me a wink. “Best I’ve had without doing the deed.”

“Thank you for coming.” I don’t know what else to say. Miss Manners doesn’t cover ménages in her books.

He looks over at Dan and nods as he shoulders the bag of toys we never used. “Thanks for sharing her. Call me anytime.”

After the door closes, Dan cups my jaw with his hand. “First and last time. I can’t handle sharing you again.”

He slides out from under me and sheaths himself with a condom from the dresser. Without warning, he lunges over me, fierce and hungry, his forearms braced on either side of my head, his body strong and hard above me.

“You’re mine, Kylie. Part of me got off watching you get off, but the other part wanted to tear him apart limb from limb. You belong to me. Your body, your soul, your pleasure. Mine.”

Exhilaration soars through me. He wants me, loves me. Just the way I am.

“And you’re mine,” I whisper, but he is caught up in the moment, soaring on his alpha high.

“You don’t kiss other men.” Dan lifts my chin and gives me a look that makes my stomach quiver. “You don’t want other men. You don’t fuck other men. Especially men like him.” His mouth descends on mine, rough and demanding. Claiming. Possessing. “I should spank your ass for the way you kissed him, but I want you too damn bad.” He tweaks my nipple, and gives it a hard pinch. “I was going to be gentle, make love to you once we were alone, but I can’t. I need to know you’re mine, Kylie, so I’m going to take you hard, and I’m going to mark you so you never forget.”

His words, his tone, the raw need and desire in his voice all make my insides melt and my folds swell and throb. “Yes.”

“Fuck. I can’t hold on.” He lifts my leg up to his shoulder, spreading me wide, and then he thrusts into me so hard my back arches off the bed. “Look what you fucking do to me,” he growls. “You drive me out of my fucking mind.” He buries his head in my neck, gently biting the sensitive skin. With a low, primal growl, he sucks my skin hard between his teeth as he drives his cock into my pussy. Pleasure mixes with pain, and I gasp with his every groaning thrust. Heat spreads through me, beating back the last of the chill that settled in my heart over the last few years. My hands slip from his shoulders, unable to grip. My eyes close, unable to see. I am surrounded by him. Taken. Possessed. Loved.

“Let it go, sweetheart. Let it go for me.”

He slides his hand between us to stroke my clit, his fingers rough on my sensitive tissue, and the fierce coil inside me comes undone in a blinding surge of electric pleasure. My hips buck against his hand, and he strokes me into another shuddering release that strips me of everything but the feel of his thick cock filling me, pounding against my womb.

“Kylie.” His voice catches and he stiffens, his fingers tight on my hips as he climaxes with short, hard jerks inside me.

For a long minute, he doesn’t move, then he covers me with his body, taking his weight on his forearms. “I gave you a damn good hickey,” he says, looking down. “You’re gonna have trouble hiding that from the state inspectors.”

“I’m more worried about hiding it from the boys.”

He gives a satisfied grunt, then rolls to his back, pulling me into his side. I rest my head on his broad chest, nuzzling his salt-and-pepper hair. Was it only two days ago that I lay far away on the other side of the bed, clothed and waiting for him to turn off the light?

“I’ll aim lower next time.” His fingers brush over the sore spot on my neck, already sensitive to the touch. “I plan to keep you permanently marked.”

“How about something simpler?” I lean up to nuzzle his jaw, rough with a five-o’clock shadow. “Like a pendant that says, ‘Keep off’ or ‘My woman.’”

“Maybe for your next birthday.” He caresses my breast, glides his hand over my curves, brushes his fingers over my mound. The way he touches me—soft, lingering, almost absent caresses—makes me feel beautiful. Desired. Loved.

“This birthday is going to be hard to beat,” I whisper.

“’Cause you got a dentist?”

“No.” I lean up and kiss him, soft and sweet. “Because I got you.”

The End

Thanks for reading Naughty Wishes. I hope you enjoyed it!

If you would like more from my bestselling MMA fighter erotic romance series Redemption, book one
Against the Ropes
is available in all e-book formats, paperback and digital audio.

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NEWSLETTER

Alexa Riley

Tiffany

“H
ere’s another,” Nora
says, slamming down a flower vase so hard on my dressing room vanity, I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter on impact. The sound makes me flinch in anticipation of the worst.

Not waiting for a response, she huffs out of the room, her high heels clicking on the tile floor.

I’m not sure if I’m more annoyed at her or the freaking flowers. My dressing room looks like a damn florist shop. It’s bad enough I have to deal with other girls in the show hating me and wanting my spot as the main attraction, but I also have to deal with entitled rich men thinking they can buy me. Plucking the card from the flowers, I read the message.

Foxy Bow,

Have dinner with me this evening. I’m staying in the high roller suite.

Brent McCloud

I can’t stop the eye roll as I toss the card in the trash. Like I needed to know the man was staying in the high roller suite. Or how about the fact that he couldn’t even be bothered to find out my real name. Because he doesn’t care what it is. He wants Foxy Bow. The showgirl who’s flirty, sexy and bubbly. Someone I play on stage. Someone who isn’t me. I’m Tiffany Smith, but no one seems to care who she is. Why would anyone care about a girl who grew up in a trailer park? A girl who lost her heart to the foster boy who lived next door. Who cares about a girl who ran away from home at fourteen years old and spent a few years on the streets? Until I was headlining a show in Vegas, nobody gave a shit about me.

The urge to pick up the vase and throw it across the room is almost more than I can bear. Plopping down in the vanity chair, I refresh my make-up, knowing I have to be onstage in minutes. A stage I used to enjoy being on once upon a time. I worked hard to make myself the main attraction. The money is good, and it’s something to keep my mind busy. But now that I have it all, I seem to become more agitated about it every day.

Maybe because now I have nothing to work for anymore. I have zilch to drive me on or keep me motivated. No, now I just move through the motions with no end goal in sight. It seems like I keep hitting one disappointment after the other.

I was born into a family that never really wanted me, and they made it clear. I’d only ever known a sliver of pure happiness in my life, and it was snatched away from me at such a young age. Who knew your heart could be taken so young? But mine was, and I know it will never return.

Dropping the blood-red lipstick back onto the vanity, I quickly change out of my robe into my first act wardrobe. Glancing in the mirror, I take myself in, making sure everything is place. Foxy Bow is always perfect and has all the men vying for her attention. Sometimes my cheeks ache from the fake smile plastered to my face. It’s drawn on as much as my make-up is, and no one ever seems to notice the smile never reaches my eyes. I feel like a doll made to look perfect.

Mr. Townsend is the owner of the Snake Eyes casino where my burlesque show headlines. He told me I attract men because I have an air of sexy innocence. I know he’s right. I have a baby face that makes me look much younger than I am.

My cheeks are full, with tiny dimples, and my nose is slightly upturned. My big blue eyes seem to take up most of my face, or maybe it’s just the color of them that makes them seem that way. I’ve never seen someone else with bluer eyes than mine, and people think they’re contacts I wear for the show. With the shock of color against my pale skin and white-blonde hair, there’s no missing them. To top it off, I’m not your normal burlesque dancer. I’m a little shorter than most, at five feet four. Most Vegas dancers are closer to six feet. My hips have a bit more flare to them, and my larger breasts match my shape, giving me a nice hourglass figure.

My beauty is both a blessing and a curse. When I was young, it attracted the attention of too many men. It was happening before I could even understand what it meant, but back then I had a protector.
Ethan.

When the world ripped him from my life, I had no choice but to run. Ethan kept my father at bay, so when he was taken away, I had to go. I thought I’d have a chance on the streets. I knew what my fate would be if I were to stay at home. Once on the streets, I bounced from shelter to shelter and a couple of community centers. I picked up dancing along the way and surprisingly, I was good at it. Everyone kept saying I was a natural talent, so I did what I could to get by and tried to stay safe.

I quickly got a gig in Vegas and moved up to lead dancer. Soon after, I was picked up to star in my own show at the Snake Eyes. I started dancing to make ends meet, and I’ve done that and more at this point. Before now dancing was all about surviving. The ache for Ethan was too much at times, but I knew I had to push through and survive. A part of my soul left with him that day in the backseat of the cop’s cruiser. He said he’d come for me, and I tried to wait, but when he never returned I had no choice but to run, fearing that the Division of Child Protection had placed him in another home. If I stayed, the girl he left wouldn’t be the same one he would come back to. She wouldn’t exist anymore. I knew my father would ruin me.

Now that I’m standing on my own two feet and not having to worry about where I’m going to sleep or how I’m going to eat, the ache for him is stronger than ever. It’s all my mind can focus on. Being around Mr. Townsend and his wife, Mandy, isn’t helping. Seeing how utterly in love they are reminds me of something I’ll never have.

The way he treats her reminds me so much of Ethan. Mr. Townsend is always so worried about Mandy’s comfort and happiness. The way he dotes on her and shows his affection is beautiful. You can see how he loves her so easily. It was something I’d had with Ethan. Something I knew no other man could ever come close to. We may have been really young, and only had a short time together, but I knew from the instant I met him he’d be it for me. He told me I was it for him too and there would never be another for him. He told me he’d marry me some day and give us both the family we always wanted, the family we’d talk about late at night when I’d sneak out my window and he’d take me down to the park. We’d lie beneath the stars together, talking about the day we would make that happen.

From the house we’d live in, to the kids we’d have, we dreamed it all under the night sky. He’d tell me that soon I wouldn’t have to worry about going to sleep at night. He promised me that no one would ever get to me like my father tried to on so many occasions. Ethan threatened him with death and installed a lock on my bedroom door. He protected me and promised me he would come for me.

“Miss Foxy, the stage is ready,” the production manager says, breaking through my thoughts.

Shaking my head, I give my hair one last fluff, clipping my bow into place. I plaster my practiced smile on my face and push away the pain.

Showtime.

Ethan

“I
f you don’t
stop, I’m going to take you back to the room and give you what you’ve been begging for. Or is that what you’re after?”

Mandy giggles and leans into Charles, and I watch from behind them, trying my best not to eavesdrop. It’s not hard to overhear from just a few paces away, and I’m also trying my best not to look envious of the couple, but I can’t help that either.

I clear my throat to remind the casino owner that I’m still here, and they turn to look as if surprised to see me. Mandy blushes and looks away while Charles just smiles his devilish grin. Mr. and Mrs. Townsend have built the Snake Eyes casino into something wonderful, and I’m here today to talk about some opportunities for our casinos to work together.