Sultry in Stilettos Page 11

  “Just in case I haven’t mentioned, you’ve been looking amazing lately."

  Ricca sputtered and barked out a laugh. "You mean you like the new wardrobe over my usual super-conservative look?"

  “I—uh." He stuttered.

  She laughed again. "Relax. I know the clothes left something to be desired. I needed an upgrade.”

  “I have to tell you it's sexy."

  She flushed at the compliment.

  The rest of the night was fun. They talked sports, and he kept telling her how impressed he was with her basketball knowledge. They’d argued over the merits of Kobe vs. Lebron and if either of them could be as great as Jordan. He made her laugh. It was easy. Nothing complicated. When he walked her upstairs, she wasn’t even nervous like she normally would have been.

  When they reached her door, he quickly drew her in for a kiss. Carter's kiss was pleasant. Certainly skilled. There was enough heat behind it to pique her interest—which confused her. But at the end of the day, this kiss didn’t compare to Beckett’s yesterday.

  Carter stepped back. “I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself if I hadn’t done that at least once.”

  Wow. He was good. If they gave grades on dating, then Carter Sykes would certainly have an A plus. “Carter. I had fun tonight. I’m just not sure—”

  He put a hand up cutting her off. “No, you don’t have to explain. I get that you and Beckett have your thing or whatever. I respect that. Besides, I know better than to pine after a woman who’s got the hots for someone else.”

  “Beckett and I don’t have a thing.”

  Carter chuckled. “You want to tell him that? He about took my head off when I told him I was going out with you.”

  Ricca shook her head. “He wouldn’t do that.”

  Carter shrugged. “Okay. If you say so. Do me a favor though. If it doesn’t work out, give me a shout. I’ll be the first one in line behind him.”

  “You know what, Carter? I think you’re growing on me. I actually had fun tonight.”

  He raised his brows. “Growing on you? That’s progress. At least you don’t think I’m a sleaze bag.”

  “Oh, I didn’t say that.”

  He laughed. “Still, it’s progress.” He kissed her hand. “I’ll see you in the office on Monday.”

  Ricca let herself in to her apartment and tried to make sense of the date and Carter—and his attempts to woo her. He was a very good kisser. But still, it didn’t move her like the scorcher Beckett had planted on her last night. All she'd been able to get out of Carter's kiss was flickering embers. There was just no comparison. But she'd had more fun than she thought possible. Maybe she'd never given Carter a chance before. Since he started at Fantasies, she'd always written him off as one of the jock gear heads who only cared about the cool assignments, not the ones that involved any kind of emotional satisfaction. Maybe, like Beckett, she'd been wrong about some things.

  Carter was intelligent and funny, and when he wanted to be, really insightful. Maybe she’d misjudged him. That knowledge smarted. But she could make changes. If Jaya could embrace her adventurous side, then Ricca could certainly give guys more than half a chance.

  Beckett was already off the table. For the love of God, he’d had a thing with Angel. And he’d hidden it—deliberately. There was no getting over that. He’d sat and listened to Ricca bitch about Angel for months. She wasn’t a glutton for punishment.

  But other guys? Maybe she didn’t have the right chemistry with Carter. But there were plenty of guys out there. She’d start doing the casual dating thing. Maybe even have herself a fling. Maybe her whole life she’d been doing the dating thing wrong. Maybe it was time to have some fun instead.

  Slipping the stilettos off her feet, she rubbed each of her arches before heading to the bedroom. A persistent knock stopped her mid-trip. Carter again? Had he left something behind? "Just a sec, I'm coming."

  Swinging the door open she gasped in surprise. "Beckett, what are you doing here?"

  He scowled at her. But even anger didn't detract from his all American good looks. "You went out with Carter?"

  Ricca frowned. "I don’t see how that’s any of your business."

  "Of course it's my business. He's on my team. If he's distracted, I have to deal with it."

  Ricca coughed out a laugh. "Did you spend time rehearsing that one? You’re being ridiculous. You mean to tell me you drove over to Hillcrest on a Saturday night, when you know parking is a nightmare, to tell me I can’t date Carter because he's going to be distracted?”

  "Yes," he barked. Then quickly amended, "No. I came to talk to you, then I saw you with him. I thought we’d agreed you weren’t going to go out with him."

  Ricca balked. "Do you realize what you sound like right now? Maybe instead of standing on my doorstep yelling at me about who I am or am not dating, maybe you should be standing on your girlfriend's doorstep. You can yell at her all you like. Beckett, I meant what I said last night.” Ricca’s heart thudded. She tried for more breath, but it only came in airy shallow draws. This wasn’t happening. Beckett wasn’t standing here.

  “And I meant what I said. Angel was a mistake. I should have told you. Hell, I never should have gone there.” He ran both hands through his hair. “I know—I didn’t expect that—you know, we’d—shit.” Beckett used the heels of his hands to rub at his eyes. “I don’t know. Just tell me you didn’t sleep with him.”

  Furious, Rica glared at him. “And what if I did? You still haven’t told me why the hell it matters to you.”

  He took a step toward her, but she held her ground. “No, you can’t just storm in here and fuck with me like last night and like the other day in my office. I know you’re just dicking with me, and I want it to stop. I can’t take anymore.”

  “Me?” The question came out as a snarl. “You’re the one fucking with me. Why are you deliberately trying to drive me crazy? The clothes, the hair, and the way you kissed me back the other day. Shit, and last night. You were all over me, burning so hot. Every time I touched you it was like you would combust like no one ever made you feel like that before.” His voice rose an octave. “What the fuck is your game?”

  Ricca tipped her chin up, refusing to move back. If he wanted to come into her house and start a fight, then she was more than happy to have it out with him. Maybe they could finally get it all out, once and for all. “Let’s start with you lowering your voice. And then we’ll move on to maybe how you should stop doing that half flirtation thing with me, where you string me along and let me believe you’re interested. It’s borderline cruel, and I’m sick of it. If you’re into me, why don’t you just—”

  Beckett cut her off by placing both hands on her face and slanting a kiss over her lips that was not at all slow and sensual like the night before. It was more like a brand.

  As if it were a practiced move, her arms wound around his neck, and her fingers laced in the hair at his nape. He shifted his hands from her face and wrapped them around her, eventually placing them on her ass, and anchored her body to his. His erection nudged her insistently, and her body softened, readying for him.

  With a growl, Beckett dragged off his jacket and tossed it to the floor. Leaning over her, he scooped his hands down the backs of her legs and picked her up, leaving her no option than to wrap her legs around him.

  Holding her firmly against him, he dug a hand into her hair, his lips scorching, and his tongue insisting on a response—demanding one. Electricity sizzled under every patch of skin he touched. She clawed at his back and met his demand with her own.

  He carried her through the room. Bumping into the couch, he muttered a curse, but got moving, hanging a left into the master bedroom. When he lowered her to her feet, she reached for his belt. Fumbling with the buckle, she met his gaze.

  Need and desperation warred with something else she couldn’t name. When she finally figured out the complicated buckle, she muttered, “Okay, no more Guess belts for your birthday.”


  “I agree.” Beckett brushed her hands aside and went for the side knot of her dress. “Mm, it’s like unwrapping a present. I’ve been dying to see you like this ever since I discovered you wore garters.”

  Ricca flushed and suddenly wished she’d turned off the light—confidence be damned. Even Victoria’s Secret models had to prefer candlelight. “I’m sure you’ve seen plenty of lingerie in your lifetime.”

  His lips tipped up into that mischievous smile of his. “I’ve never seen you in lingerie.”

  Ricca focused as she slipped one button of his shirt open, then another. Yesterday, she hadn’t been paying attention as he’d been so busy driving her insane with kisses. Today, she wanted an up-close and personal view of his six pack. She’d seen him shirtless at least a hundred times over the years, but this was different.

  Once his shirt was off, she froze, unsure of what to do next. It wasn’t like she was a seductress. She didn’t do this enough.

  As if sensing her discomfort, he kissed her long and deep until she melted against him again. He knelt down, and starting at her calves, began a gentle massage. Ricca held perfectly still until his large firm hands skimmed just above her knee.

  She staggered a little and held onto his broad shoulders for support. Beckett placed kisses along her panty line through her dress. Occasionally, his teeth tugged at the jersey fabric, and she shivered. His hands continued their path, skimming over her thighs, pausing only to stroke her damp heat with his thumb. “Do you know that I barely slept, thinking about you in my arms yesterday? The fantasy doesn’t live up to reality.”

  Hooking his fingers into her lace and satin panties, he tugged them down an inch, and Ricca moaned. He traced a line with his tongue over the newly exposed strip of flesh. Her pulse jacked-up its usually steady thud-thud. Every nerve ending on her body was desperate to feel him caress her, stroke her. Ricca let her head roll backward as she bit her lip.

  When he slipped them past her calves down to her feet, he whispered, “Step out of them.”

  She did as was told but needed him to touch her, to do more than look. She needed his touch.

  Beckett stood, but kept one hand under her dress. As he spoke in low tones, his hands traversed a path back to her sex. “Let me in, Ricca. I want to feel what Brazil is like this time of year.”

  When his thumb slid over her clit, she widened her stance automatically, and he made a sound from his throat that sounded like part chuckle and part murmur of satisfaction. He stroked her, and her knees buckled. Holding her against him, he continued to caress, gently, teasingly, avoiding direct stimulation to her clit.

  “Hush. It’s okay. I just want to make you feel good.”

  When her knees buckled and she sagged against him, Beckett lifted her onto the bed. He quickly yanked off his jeans and tossed them aside, but not before grabbing a condom from his wallet. Joining her on the bed, he slid his powerful hands up past her calves and over her inner thighs. When his fingers met the juncture between her legs, he used his thumb to part the sensitive flesh. He took his time circling her clit, taking her to the height of pleasure, then while she hung on the precipice of ecstasy, he drew back.

  Beckett nuzzled her neck, first brushing his lips against the column of her throat, then sucking gently before drawing his teeth over her skin.

  He continued to stroke her clitoris, once, twice—and again, just enough to drive her wild, then he pulled back.

  “Beckett. You can’t do this. I need—”

  “Yeah, Ricca? Why don’t you tell me what you need? I’d love to give it to you.” He kissed his way down her body, licking and scorching a path to her most sensitive spot. “I want to see how you taste.” His voice was groggy. “Will you let me?”

  Ricca squirmed and lifted her hips, but he only chuckled as he slid a finger into her. “Oh, no you don’t. That would be too easy. Tell me you want me.”

  Ricca couldn’t form the words. “I-I want—”

  He slid a finger into her, and she groaned.

  “Yeah, Ricca, what was that?” He did it again, and she wanted to cry with frustration. He kept up the motion, but only slow enough to torture her. Not enough to bring her any release.

  “Beckett, I want you to let me come. Please.”

  “Oh, that’s better.” He increased his rhythm and the pressure on her clit. “There’s just one thing. How do you want me to let you come? With my mouth? With my fingers? With my dick? I want you to be specific, so I can make you happy.”

  Ricca wanted to scream. She was so close, if he would just let her—“All of the above,” she practically shouted. “I just need you.”

  He chuckled. “Happy to oblige.”

  Beckett moved swiftly, replacing his fingers with his tongue. When he circled her clit, the tingles began in her toes. Ricca knew from this moment on, he would be the bar to which she compared all others. He knew how to tune her body. How to make her quiver. Moving in sure, deft strokes, he licked her to the edge, and when the tingles moved their way up her body, she grasped his hair. “Beckett. Oh, God. I’m going to—”

  She’d didn’t have a chance to finish. Cupping her ass in both his hands, he nudged her legs further apart and feasted.

  The orgasm crashed into her so hard, she seriously worried she might pass out. But Beckett didn’t relent. He kept stroking and licking. But he backed off her clit, giving her some time to breathe.

  When she finally stopped shaking, he placed a light kiss on her inner thigh and whispered, “Just like I thought, you taste sweet.” Beckett kissed a path up her belly, and Ricca thought she’d died and gone to heaven.

  When he reached her breasts, he frowned. “How in the world did I manage to leave your bra on? It’s a travesty to keep these covered.”

  She exhaled with a chuckle. “Well, I have to hold them up somehow. I don’t want them hanging at my knees before I’m thirty.”

  “I volunteer my services.”

  She grinned. “What, as official breast holder-upper? Is that a British title?”

  “Yes, yes it is. I am Lord Holder-Upper of Magnificent Breasts.” His expression sobered. “I’m sorry. About before. If I was too rough. I just saw you with him, and I lost my shit.”

  Her heart stuttered. “I’m okay. Surprised, but great actually. You’ve certainly got a gift.”

  His easy grin was back. “Well in that case, let me show you what else I’m good at.”

  In one swift move, he lifted her torso with one hand and quickly unsnapped her bra. The hooks came apart with a light pop, and her breasts spilled free. “I told you last night was a fluke. You had me distracted.”

  Feeling bold, she grinned up at him, then reached for his erection and wrapped her fingers around his girth. He muttered some inventive curses, then growled through clenched teeth, “Careful what you play with. You could start something we don’t have enough hours in the night to finish.”

  “A girl can always dream.”

  Beckett rolled off of her quickly, slipped on the condom, and shifted back between her legs before she could blink. She’d barely even heard the foil wrapper tear.

  “Then by all means, tell me all your fantasies.”

  ****

  The moment Beckett slid into her warmth, he knew he was lost. This was Ricca, his Ricca. There would never be any going back now that he knew how good she felt.

  As he dipped his head to kiss her, he marveled at their fit. Despite her more than generous curves, she was still so petite. Fragile and vulnerable. He lifted his head and gazed down at her. He stroked his thumb across her cheek. “You okay?”

  Her eyes were wide as she nodded and let out a shuddering breath. “Depends. Are you going to stop torturing me and start moving?”

  He chuckled. “And here I always thought you were so patient.” He kept the pace as slow as he could manage. Piercing need had tormented him since yesterday, and he was dying to come. But he would take his time. Make her feel—

  “Beckett, I’m not fragile. You�
��re not going to break me. Faster.” She sucked in a breath when he rolled his hips. “Please.”

  It wasn’t until she scored his back with her nails that his control snapped, and he gave her what she asked for. Through gritted teeth, he tried to hold on to wait for her, but she kept whispering his name. Tightening her hold on him with her legs.

  Heat radiated from his spine, and he knew it was over. The moment he felt her silken walls twitch around him, he let the blast of heat take over and radiate throughout his body. As she rode her wave of orgasm, he convulsed on top of her, his own release wracking his body. The only thought his brain could muster was mine.

  Beckett didn’t know how much later it was when he woke up, his legs intertwined with Ricca’s and his hand on her breast, with her gorgeous ass wiggling against him. For a moment, he let himself relish just holding her. He wanted to live in the uncomplicated realm for just a little bit longer. Where he didn’t have to deal with the ramifications of what they’d done.

  They were friends. She was for sure the marrying type. He, comfortable in his position as an eternal screw-up, was not. He really should have thought this through better. But she’s mine. His brain couldn’t let go of the fact that he’d always seen her as his. He’d treated her like a kid sister to put some distance between them and to force his brain to register her as a permanent hands off.

  When he’d met her in college, she’d been so adorable and sweet. And the two of them had forged a tight friendship. The one time he’d thought they might get together, she’d opted herself out and kept their friendship in the strictly no-touch zone. But everything had changed with what was supposed to be an uncomplicated kiss between friends.

  All he’d had to do was give her a chaste kiss on the lips. Instead, electricity had exploded between them and shorted something in his rational, thinking brain. For weeks, she’d dominated every thought he had. He could have killed that asshole, Charles, for dumping her like he did. But if he was honest with himself…he sort of wanted to thank the moron, because Beckett probably would have had a nervous breakdown if Ricca had ever married the guy.