Authors: Claire Kent
Complicated
Complicated
Claire Kent
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents
are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is
coincidental.
Copyright © 2014 by Claire Kent. All rights reserved, including the right
to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means.
This book was originally published by Ellora’s Cave by the same title and
the penname Zannie Adams. Copyright © 2007. It has since been revised and
reedited.
Victoria Ray bit her lip as she leaned back against the stone railing of
the balcony and tried to keep from whimpering. All she could see was the man in
front of her, the warm press of his body trapping her in place.
One of his hands curved around the back of
her head while the other cupped her breast. His thumb twirled her nipple with
skillful precision, causing intoxicating tugs of pleasure between her legs.
She sucked in a harsh breath, inhaling the warm,
male scent of him. He always smelled better than any man she’d ever
known—masculine and faintly expensive but not with anything as obvious as
cologne. His scent only heightened her arousal, leaving her off-balance from
the mingling of heady sensations.
“Greg,” she gasped, her fingernails digging
into his shoulders through the fabric of his black suit. “Someone will see us.”
Greg looked over his shoulder at the French
doors that led back into the hotel ballroom where a large crowd was celebrating
the successful conclusion of the gubernatorial campaign they’d both been
working on for several months. Anyone who happened to glance out through the glass
panes would see Greg Stone, brother of the newly elected governor, shamelessly
feeling up Victoria, a quiet university librarian who’d always kept to herself.
Lowering his hand from her breast, Greg
nudged Victoria toward the corner where the balcony railing met the side of the
building. There was some protection offered by the large potted palm. Not
enough to hide them completely but enough to partially disguise their carnal
activities.
Then he pushed her back against the railing
with the length of his strong body and lowered his head to mouth her neck. The
slight bristle on his jaw scraped against her throat deliciously, and she
squirmed between him and the railing.
When he raised his hand to fondle her
nipple, she let her head fall back and moaned deep in her throat. Her pussy was
a hot ache between her thighs, and she had to force herself not to grind her
groin against Greg’s hip.
Little pants of desire and frustration were
forcing their way out through her parted lips. She tangled her fingers into his
dark hair to hold his head in place. “This is crazy,” she managed to say, pulling
on his hair in greedy insistence. “Maybe we should wait until later.”
“Why?” Greg’s voice was thick and textured
and as sexy as anything she’d ever heard. “You looked so irresistible in
there—trying to pretend you were ignoring me. I couldn’t keep my hands off you
any longer.”
“But we agreed to be discreet.” Her
objections were only token, brought on by the common sense she’d inherited from
her mother. Her body was pliant and eager against him. And the idea of letting
him touch her like this—half-exposed on the balcony—gave her an erotic thrill
she couldn’t deny.
Greg lifted his head and gazed down on her with
smoldering brown eyes. “We
will
be.” Belying his words, one of his hands
moved behind her thighs, gathering up the fabric of her skirt until he could
cup the full curve of her ass. “Fuck, you look gorgeous, all hot and debauched
like this. Your cheeks get so flushed, and your lips so swollen. Your hair is
falling out of that bun you insist on wearing, and your nipples are so tight
you can’t even hide them beneath your prim suit.”
She flushed even hotter under the possessive
approval of his gaze. “Prim!” She tried for a teasing pout despite the aching
compulsion of her body. “It’s not prim. It’s vintage.” Her fitted,
forties-style gray suit was new, but at the moment it was rumpled and
disarranged, the knee-length skirt hiked up around her hips and the jacket
falling open. “And it’s not a bun—it’s a chignon.”
Chuckling in husky appreciation, Greg lowered
his gaze to her chest, where her nipples were jutting out brazenly through the
silk of her blouse. He pinched one of them through the fabric—causing her to
cry out from the jolt of pleasure.
Then he reached behind her thigh to lift one
of her legs and hook it around his hip, leaving her wet pussy protected only by
the thin satin of her panties.
Victoria wanted him so much she was shaking,
but she was brutally conscious of the French doors still visible beyond the
potted palm. Anyone could come out. Anyone could see the two of them in this shameless
tangle of limbs.
“You’re not really going to fuck me here,
are you?” she asked in a raspy voice. “What if someone catches you with your
pants down? You’re supposed to be a respectable, dignified businessman.”
Despite his heated intensity, he couldn’t
stifle a laugh at this. He kissed her fiercely and then murmured against her
lips, “God, you’re delicious, Victoria.”
She felt an odd sensation in her chest she
couldn’t quite identify, but it was quickly overwhelmed by the insistent need
of her body. She was in a helpless position—imprisoned between the railing and
Greg’s solid body, supported only on one of her legs—but she tried to rub against
him as much as she could, letting out a broken sigh of relief at the
stimulation on her clit.
Greg adjusted his stance so he could slip
one of his hands between her thighs. He pressed his fingers against the damp
spot on her panties. “If you really don’t want to do this here, you should tell
me now.”
Victoria tried to think clearly, and she
realized her anxiety wasn’t true reluctance. In fact, it only heightened the
naughty thrill of the situation.
“Don’t you dare stop now,” she whispered,
wrapping her arms around him and holding on tightly.
He chuckled again—a exquisite, husky sound
that sent vibrations all through her body—as he tucked his fingers past the
delicate satin of her panties and into her intimate folds.
She nearly cried out again in pleasure but
managed to suppress the sound by biting her lower lip.
“Fuck, you’re so wet.” He explored her
arousal, parting the flesh to rub circles against her swollen clit.
Victoria almost choked as the sensations intensified.
He was hard and hot and big against her, and she breathed him in with every strained
breath.
He was fully aroused now. She could feel the
tight bulge at the front of his pants pressing into her middle. But he’d always
been patient, and his caresses were neither rushed nor clumsy.
Her spine almost bent backwards when he
lifted her thigh even more so he could slide two fingers inside her. At her desperately
hitched breath, he murmured, “You like that?”
“Mm-hmm,” she mumbled, biting down on her lip.
An orgasm was already collecting at her center, just from the way her clinging
inner walls had to stretch around the penetration of his fingers.
“You want me to fuck you with my fingers?”
“Mm-hmm.” She was afraid to release her lip
for fear she’d start screaming and rouse the attention of the party inside. She
could hear music and the vague murmur of laughter and conversation. It was all
happening just beyond those French doors.
Greg started to pump his fingers inside her,
moving them easily in her slippery pussy. Her skirt was hiked up around her
waist now, leaving her legs bare except for her thigh-high stockings.
She dug her high heel into the back of his
legs, trying to get it even higher to give his fingers better access.
“How’s that?” Greg asked, his hot brown eyes
never leaving her flushed, twisting face.
It felt so good she was afraid to open her
mouth, lest anyone hear how close she was to climax. “Mm.”
“What was that?” Greg curled his fingers
inside her, expertly finding her g-spot.
“Mm, mm,” she forced out, clenching her eyes
as tightly shut as her mouth.
“Did you want me to stop?” His fingers grew
still inside her.
Victoria nearly wailed in frustration. “Stop
teasing,” she gritted, clawing at the back of his shoulders through the fabric
of his expensive suit. “Fuck, I want to come.”
He started moving his fingers again, sliding
and stretching her pulsing channel and firmly connecting with her g-spot. The
stimulation gathered into a deep pressure below her belly and made her moan.
“You want to come like this?” Greg murmured,
his thick voice as erotic as his touch. “Half-naked and splayed on the balcony,
where anyone could see you. All they’d have to do is step outside. You want
that?”
It was true. They weren’t hidden. They could
be caught at any time. And the knowledge sent thrills of anxious pleasure
jolting down to her pussy. “Yeah,” she gasped, her head lolling back helplessly
as she let him pleasure her in the mild autumn air. “Yeah.”
“You want them to see you like this? To see
how hot and sexy and wild you are beneath your quiet demeanor.”
Everyone thought Victoria was proper,
boring, bookish, a little bit shy. The stereotypical librarian.
Everyone but Greg.
She was so close to coming now her body was
tensing up in preparation. She clung to him desperately and tried to hump his
hand. “Yeah, please, please!”
“That’s right, baby,” Greg said, his voice
growing hoarse and his body nearly as tight as hers was. “Show them. Show them
all. Show them how hard you can come.”
She was nearly sobbing as the pressure
finally shattered, and she came all around his fingers. The pleasure pulsed in
delicious waves as her body shook and spasmed in clumsy abandon. She had to
bury her face in Greg’s chest to smother the loud sounds of her release.
Before she’d barely come down, Greg had
pulled her head back and kissed her—rough and deep. She whimpered into his
mouth, her pussy still clinging tightly to his fingers.
He was pressing the bulge of his arousal
against her middle in small urgent thrusts—a sign of how much he’d lost his
characteristic control. The evidence of this was thrilling, almost as thrilling
as the delicious fear of being caught.
But before their mouths had parted a new
series of sounds wafted out from the ballroom.
Both of them knew what those sounds meant.
Greg’s brother—the governor elect—was about
to give a speech.
Which meant Greg needed to get back inside
or someone would come looking for him.
Letting out a desperate groan, Greg released
her mouth, removed his fingers from between her legs, and took a step back,
leaving Victoria feeling cold and half-unsatisfied.
“Damn it,” he muttered, closing his eyes and
breathing deeply in what she knew was an attempt to get himself under control.
Victoria pulled down her wrinkled skirt and
rubbed her thighs together to dispel the empty ache at her center. She buttoned
her jacket and tried to smooth out some of the wrinkles before she tucked stray
blonde strands of her hair behind her ears. “We can finish up right after the
speeches,” she suggested, feeling kind of guilty that she’d had an orgasm when
Greg definitely had not.
He nodded. “I’ve reserved a room upstairs.”
He glanced back at the French doors. “Why don’t you go out first, since you’re
in better shape than I am?”
“All right.” Victoria was flushed, rumpled,
and shaky—which she never would have considered good shape—but at least she
wasn’t sporting a hard-on like poor Greg. She stepped over and gave him a light
kiss. “Sorry. You shouldn’t have wasted so much time on me.”
Despite his frustration, Greg chuckled
warmly against her skin. “It wasn’t time wasted. And I wouldn’t have missed it
for the world.”
This caused another one of those odd
sensations in her chest and she felt compelled to hide her face from him as she
ducked discreetly back into the ballroom.
***
She and Greg Stone had met several months ago
through his brother’s political campaign. She’d been immediately attracted to
him. Who wouldn’t be attracted to a man as mature, intelligent, funny, kind,
and handsome as him? But she had never dreamed she’d get the chance to act on
the attraction.
She was just a normal woman—smart and
basically attractive but nothing special. And Greg was one of the most eligible
men around.
Until one night in campaign headquarters
when they’d been working late alone. By that time, Victoria had relaxed with
him, and she’d talked and smiled more than normal. She’d teased him about the
other single female volunteers, all of whom were making obvious plays for him.
Then Greg had hauled her against him into an unexpected kiss. They’d ended up
fucking against the wall and then on the desk and then on the desk again. As he’d
been pounding into her, holding her legs up against his shoulders, making her
frantically babble his name, Victoria had realized that maybe Greg was
attracted to her too.
They’d both agreed they didn’t want a
relationship. Neither was interested in the complications that a serious,
romantic relationship would entail. Both of them were content with their lives
as they were. Sex was all they wanted from each other. So they’d been having a
discreet affair for the last three months—fucking a couple times a week and
enjoying it completely.
Victoria had secretly been worried that the
end of the election might signal the end of their affair, and she wasn’t ready
for that to happen.
So it was a relief that Greg had reserved a
room in the hotel tonight.
She didn’t want to marry him and have his
babies.
She just wanted to keep fucking him for as
long as she could.
***
An hour later, she slid the key he’d given
her into the lock of the hotel room and stepped into the entryway of the luxurious
room.
As soon as the door shut behind her, Greg
pounced.
He must have been waiting because it took
him less than thirty seconds to get her pressed back against the wall. His kiss
was hungry, and his embrace hard and demanding.
Victoria responded immediately, something
thrilling inside her at this evidence of his urgency. Her mouth and hands were
just as insistent as his were, and soon they were both equally eager and
aroused.