Caressa's Knees (7 page)

“Jesus.” He looked mildly traumatized.

She moaned, moving her hips up against him. “Just…please!”

He fell on her, all his weight, and muffled her helpless moan of relief with his hand. She felt his hard stomach muscles against hers, as he slid and arched and slid again. His cock filled her completely, powerful, amazing possession, leaving her empty each time he withdrew.

She clutched him, needing him closer. Her insistent cries seemed to rile him up and he rode her harder, rougher, his knees braced on the floor. She reached up and pulled his hair, squirming under him as each stroke drove her closer to losing her mind. Her breath rushed against his palm as he silenced her whimpers. His other hand roved and squeezed—her breasts, her nipples, her tensing ass cheeks.
His own
quiet grunts and gasps against her cheek thrilled her, one more novel sensation to build and bloom into frenzy.

She felt close,
so
close to completion. Her legs grasped him and her hips bumped against his. “Yes, good girl,” he urged her. “Come on. Good girl.”

Good girl.
The way he said it, the novelty of a man saying such words to her—it tipped her over the edge, and she contracted around his hard length with a hiss of breath and a shudder. Every wave of the orgasm was excruciating, melting bliss,
a hundred times more intense than any of the orgasms she’d ever given herself.
He held her tight, pressing his cheek against hers as he tensed above her. His hand fell away from her mouth. She lay still beneath him, feeling battered and sore, and yet joyfully replete.

He pulled away and she looked up into intent blue eyes. They were still joined together, but the passion had burned out, leaving behind a confused realization that they’d just fucked each other’s brains out half-dressed on the floor. He brushed gentle fingers across her cheek, up to her temple.

“Crazy girl.
You should have told me it was your first time.”

“You didn’t give me a chance,” she said. “Anyway, I only asked for a kiss.”

His lips twitched, and then widened into the most beautiful smile she’d ever seen. “Caressa Gallo, I think maybe your crazy is rubbing off on me.”

She watched the smile fade, but his eyes were still warm. She tightened her fingers on his arm. “Does that mean you won’t leave?
At least not yet?”

He rolled his eyes, a faint smirk on his face. “It would be kind of rude for me to leave a half hour after I deflowered you.”

“
Deflowered
me? What kind of word is
deflower
?” she asked with a giggle.

“It’s a Texas word. We don’t have twenty-year-old virgins in Texas, by the way. At least I’ve never heard of one. This is a new thing for me.” He drew his fingertips down the line of her jaw, suddenly very somber. “Are you okay? I can’t help thinking I could have done that better.”

She shrugged. “Don’t worry about it. It’s just sex.”

“It fits anyway, doesn’t it?” he said.
“For you.
Suitably intense.
I’m glad.” He looked at the condom as he took it off and dropped it in the nearby wastebasket. “At least it wasn’t a bloodbath. I might have fainted.”

He touched her then, stroking his fingers over the reddish blur smeared inside her thighs. It felt like an incredibly intimate thing to do, and it struck her, finally, full force, that she’d given her virginity to this man.
Thrown it at him, practically.

“I’m glad it was you,” she said, as if daring him to disagree. “I mean, I’m not going to get all sentimental about you or anything.”

“Of course not,” he said. Was he laughing at her?

“I mean, I’m just not like that,” she said. “But I was…curious. And I’m glad it was with you.”

God,
that smile
. The fond way he was looking at her almost stole her breath. His fingers still stroked her, slid through blood and her own slick, undeniable response to him. He leaned back, propped on one arm.

“Can I ask you something, Caressa? And please tell me the truth. Were you really on the roof because you like storms, or was there some other reason?”

“No. I really do like storms.”

His gaze unnerved her. She began to turn her head but he caught her chin and made her face him again. “Are you okay?
Really okay?”

She thought for a long moment.
Was
she okay? “Honestly, I’m not sure I’m one hundred percent okay. But I didn’t go up there to fling myself off, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“You didn’t go up there to get me to kiss you either.”

She gazed back at him. His lips were set in a firm line, and his face was dark and stern. She shook her head. “I was just trying to feel alive. Can you understand that?”

The fingertips left her chin to brush back a lock of her hair. “I’ll help you feel alive now and again, if you’ll just stay off the rooftops.”

She looked up at him from under her lashes. “Will you spank me if I don’t?”

He shook his head at her. “You don’t know what you’re playing with, young lady. You really have no idea.”

“I have some idea. I’m not totally sheltered. But are you…are you really into that stuff?”

“I’m beginning to think
you're
really into it,” he said with a laugh.

“I’m just interested, that’s all.”

“It can be pretty interesting. But these are private things you’re asking me about. At the end of the day, Caressa…” His gaze wandered down to her breasts and back up to her face, with a slightly guilty frown. “At the end of the day, I work for you. You’re my boss. This was special to me, and that’s the truth. But let’s not make things too…complicated.”

He drew away from her, leaving her feeling empty, vulnerable again. She watched as he straightened his shirt and did up his jeans. With a sinking feeling she put her own clothing back to rights. Her cello was still lying on its side where Kyle had so carefully placed it.

She didn’t want to look at it. She didn’t want the music…she wanted the sound of his
sighs
and her own groans of pleasure. He extended his hand and she let him pull her up. She was suddenly overcome with squirming, sickening fear. He would pretend it hadn’t happened. He would say something to keep her at arm’s length, something awful and impersonal. He would look at her again like she was beyond hope.

But no.
He hugged her close and pressed a kiss against her ear. “Caressa, let’s keep a secret, shall we?”

She nodded. She wouldn’t tell anyone what they’d done.

“Not about this,” he said softly. “Let’s keep it a secret that there’s more to you than cello strings and ticket sales. What do you say?”

Her smile turned into a
quavery
laugh, and then a cloudburst of tears.
There’s more to you than cello strings and ticket sales.
She couldn’t have explained how much those words meant to her at that moment, but he probably already knew.

* * * * *

He lay on her bed and watched while she practiced for almost two hours. Every so often he thought she might be crying again, although it was hard to tell since she was facing away from him. Little sniffles, a shake of the shoulders. When he asked if she was all right, she completely ignored him. She played the same passage again and again and Kyle watched, feeling like a stranger, even though he’d buried himself in her just an hour before. He could still smell her on his skin, his lips. Her hair was so beautiful. Her body had been so responsive, so wild.
Wild like her.
He had even taken her virginity, a startling privilege.

But now she seemed unknowable, extra-terrestrial. She was from another planet, because no human created music this way. At least, she wasn’t from his little planet of order and organization. Even so, he wanted her again.

He had to decide what to do, where to go from here. He ran the possibilities through his head. Become her boyfriend?
Chance-y.
Become her
fuckbuddy
? Enjoyable, but empty sex had made a mess of him before. Refuse to sleep with her? Restore their relationship to something wholly professional? Not now. Not a chance in hell.

If he was honest with himself, there hadn’t been a chance in hell from the start. As much as he fought it, he was a sucker for the wild ones. As soon as he’d climbed in the limo that first day, as soon as his eyes fell on her, he’d felt an attraction he hadn’t wanted to admit. Not just a physical attraction, either. He wanted to help her. He wanted to protect her. Okay, and fuck her.

Now he’d have to face Denise Gallo in all his hypocritical glory. Less than ten minutes after he’d berated the woman for suggesting he romance Caressa, Kyle had taken her to the floor, popped her cherry, and filled her to the hilt with his cock.

He stretched on the bed, sitting up. Time to change that line of thinking, or he’d do it again, cello practice or no. At least Denise couldn’t object if Kyle insisted on a condom allowance to cover the endless
rogering
of her niece that Kyle planned. Ironically, Caressa did seem to have become more cooperative since he’d fucked her.

But the kink-curious comments…

She really did have no idea what she’d be jumping into if she beckoned him that way. He would have to consider long and hard before they got into power exchange games, because once they did, they would form an attachment. Mindless fucking was easy.
Dominance and submission, not so much.

He was drawn from his thoughts by the sudden silence in the room. Caressa put down her bow and rested against her cello. She looked exhausted.

Kyle watched her, trying to read her. “Good practice, Caressa?”

She shrugged. “So-so.”

“You should take a nap. You have a performance tonight and you already look tired. You haven’t even had lunch. What would you like?”

“I’m not hungry.”

He turned and picked up the phone, then dialed room service. Without consulting her, he ordered a turkey club sandwich and a salad.

“I don’t like tomatoes. And I hate turkey,” she said as soon as he hung up.

“Then next time, when I ask you what you’d like, I suggest you make a choice. Otherwise I’ll order what I choose and you’ll eat it whether you like it or not.”

The look she gave him was priceless.

“Come here, Caressa.” He made his voice brisk and businesslike, but when she came closer, he pulled her down with him on the bed and nuzzled her ear. “Are you nervous about tonight?” he whispered.

“I’m terrified.”

He didn’t know why her quiet admission startled him. Perhaps it was because he assumed this was all easy for her. Perhaps it was the word she used. Not
scared
or
worried
.
Terrified
.
Perhaps it was because it was the most frank and candid sentence she’d said to him in their short acquaintance.

He hugged her closer. “Listen. If you eat your sandwich and take a nice, peaceful nap, I’ll give you a little reward when you wake up.”

“What kind of reward?” she murmured against the curve of his neck.

“A really, really nice reward.”

She sighed and stretched against him. “Will you stay here and sleep next to me?”

His fingers spread open on her back. She was no longer the awe-inspiring cellist, just a young woman obviously starved for closeness and connection. Kyle supposed, for all his
outrage, that
was really his most important job here. He was past the point of walking away. But he’d do the unpacking later. He kissed her again and said, “You bet I will.”

Chapter Four:

Nerves

Caressa dreamed of him—the look in his eyes, the way he’d fucked her. When he shook her awake, she came to awareness already breathless and wet. He was taking her pants off again, tossing them to the floor. He kissed her, warm soft lips overtaking hers as he ran his fingers over her skin, her hair. She was already arching against him, craving him before she was even fully awake.

He stopped her with a firm hand on her hip. “Wait. Don’t move.”

She watched him cross to the door, his jeans perfectly sculpted to his waist and the muscles of his ass. He pulled at his sleep-rumpled shirt and ran his fingers through his hair. Then it hit her. Aunt Denise.

Her aunt wasn’t stupid. Surely she would realize that Kyle had spent the greater part of the day alone in the room with her, and what they’d been up to, despite Kyle’s game efforts to put
himself
in order. He looked back at her once more and mouthed the word “Stay.”

Caressa watched him go and listened for any sign of conversation. Aunt Denise must have gone somewhere because she heard only silence. Kyle returned with a handful of condoms and a broad smile. Caressa smiled back, hoping her wanton impatience wasn’t written all over her face. She wanted him. He locked the door and came to stand beside the bed. He obviously understood exactly what she was feeling, judging from the smug expression on his face.