Mastering Kyla (Stone Cellar Erotica)

Copyright © 2013 by Aubrey Stone.

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

Published in the United States of America.

First Edition: July 2013.

Stone Cellar Press

PUBLISHER’S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.

Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

Chapter 1

Kyla tugged the collar of her jacket closer around her neck and hurried down the sidewalk. Not that it made much difference to the storm. Rain showered the street around her, kicking up impact splashes that drenched her new heels and trickled icy lines down her bare legs. It served her right for heading out into a spring morning in Portland without her umbrella. The cafes and boutiques she passed were full of people waiting out the deluge, but Kyla wasn’t in the mood for company right now—even the company of strangers.

The perfect icing to my shit-cake week,
she thought. And then she saw a familiar silhouette exiting a car up ahead. Blond hair, broad shoulders, trim lines... could it be him? The man turned and Kyla’s shoulders eased. Not him then. Just a stranger with a similar build. Her nose gave a painful twinge and she fought down the rising tears. It had been six months since Michael had left her waiting at the altar like a fool. Six months, and she was still jumping at shadows.

“Screw this,” Kyla muttered. She scanned the street quickly and then, spotting the bar, hurried forward without letting herself dwell on the decision.

The bar was dark but warm, full of the hoppy scent of beer and the comforting drone of a TV. There were only a handful of patrons, but Kyla wasn’t surprised; it wasn’t even lunchtime. Kyla bypassed the little tables and headed straight for the bar. She swung her petite frame up onto the barstool and pulled the pin out of her auburn hair, running her fingers through to shake out some of the rain. As she gave her hair an irritated toss, her eyes landed on a face she did recognize across the bar. She froze.

Jackson Scott. The one person she wanted to see even less than Michael. Jackson had gone to college with Michael and Kyla. Yes, Jackson had won the genetic lottery. He was smoking hot, with devastating blue eyes that he’d used to great effect, sleeping with half the co-eds on campus before he graduated. But Kyla had never been able to stand him and his smug arrogance. She’d been beyond pissed at Michael when he’d announced he wanted Jackson to be his best man at their wedding.

I suppose that should have been another warning sign,
Kyla thought, mentally kicking herself for the millionth time.

Jackson suddenly noticed her staring. He smiled that cocky half-smile of his and raised his glass to her in silent salute.

Kyla dropped her eyes, blushing. He always knew exactly how to unsettle her. Kyla almost stood and fled the bar, but at that moment the bartender approached, running a rag over the counter.

“You look like you could use a shot of something strong.” The bartender didn’t look much older than 21, but she had a friendly face.

Kyla smiled. “Just a glass of wine. Your house cab should be great.”

The bartender nodded and reached for a glass. She poured a healthy serving of the crimson liquid and slid it toward Kyla.

Kyla reached for her wallet, but before she could unzip it, a stranger slapped a ten-dollar bill down on the bar.

“Allow me, beautiful,” he said. Kyla looked up, startled. The stranger gave her a pleasant smile, but his eyes danced over her body, lingering a little too long on the valley between her breasts. Kyla reached for the collar of her coat again, suddenly aware of her shirt beneath it, plastered to her frame.

“No thanks,” Kyla said, fighting to keep the anger out of her voice. “I’ve got it.”

“Please. It’s my pleasure.” He shoved the bill across to the bartender. “Keep the change.” The bartender glanced at Kyla, but when she made no move to stop it, the bartender shrugged and took the bill, heading for the cash register. The stranger’s eyes twinkled and Kyla’s hand tightened on her jacket collar.

“I just wanted to grab a quick glass of wine and be on my way,” Kyla said. Her voice trembled, and Kyla cringed inwardly, debating whether she should just abandon the wine and go.

“What’s the rush? That storm’s not letting up any time soon.” He sat on the bench beside Kyla. “You look like you’re half-drowned already.”

“I’m really not looking for company,” Kyla said.

“What do you know, that makes two of us.” He leaned closer to Kyla and she felt his warmth. It made her skin crawl, but she didn’t have much practice deflecting unwanted attention. When she used to go out it had always been with Michael, who’d kept an arm tossed possessively over her shoulder. “If you’re looking for some place a little more private...”

“Kyla, there you are.”

Kyla turned in surprise at the strong, sure voice. Jackson curled one hand under her jaw, tilting her face upwards to give her a firm kiss. The touch of his lips sent an electric shock through her core, kindling a warmth between her thighs that startled her. Jackson pulled back, giving her a bland smile, then turned his attention to the stranger.

“Want to introduce me to your friend?” Jackson’s tone was decidedly unfriendly, and the stranger blanched.

“Sorry.” The stranger stood and gave Kyla an irritated glance. “She didn’t say she was meeting anyone.”

Jackson took the vacated seat. With his back to the stranger, he gave Kyla a wink. She felt a rush of gratitude toward Jackson, but could only stare at him. The stranger shifted his feet, uncomfortable. Kyla realized he probably wanted his money back. Tough shit.

“Thanks for the drink.” She gave him her sweetest smile.

The stranger looked ready to chew nails. “Sure thing.” He turned and stalked out of the bar, defeated.

Jackson chuckled, turning away from Kyla to flag down the bartender. She was by his side instantly, eyes bright. Kyla had to resist the urge to sigh. The Jackson magnet was clearly still on in full effect.

“Another scotch?” the bartender asked.

“Please.”

She had the drink poured and in front of Jackson in record time, winning one of his gorgeous smiles for her trouble.

Kyla took a gulp of wine, ready to put this bar in her rearview mirror.

“Long time no see, Kyla,” Jackson said.

Kyla set the glass down and forced herself to swallow. “Not since the wedding,” she managed.

“Yeah, that was a shitty day.” Jackson shrugged and took a sip of his drink. “But it wouldn’t have worked out between you two anyway.”

“Excuse me?” Kyla felt rooted to her seat. No one,
no one
had dismissed her broken heart this cavalierly.

“You and Mike, you were a recipe for disaster.” Jackson didn’t seem to sense her mounting outrage. “Asshole did you a favor, ditching the wedding like that.”

Kyla’s hand was flying for Jackson’s face before she knew what was happening.

Jackson caught her wrist before her palm made contact. He looked at her with a dangerous glint in his eye. And then he smiled.

The smile unlocked some part of Kyla hidden deep inside. Her panties flooded with a silken dampness and her breath caught. He held her wrist a moment longer, and then released her. Kyla let out her breath. She felt her cheeks flush and bent her head, hoping her wet hair would hide her embarrassment from Jackson’s penetrating gaze.

Jackson couldn’t believe it when Kyla walked into the bar, drenched through and through. Damn, if she wasn’t even more gorgeous than the day that asshole Mike had stood her up at their wedding. Jackson watched as she entered the bar, shaking down her gorgeous mane of hair. The sight of her stole his breath. Jackson felt his lips twist in a wry smile. He’d been nursing a crush on Kyla since Mike had first brought her back to their dorm room freshman year, but there had never been an opportunity to get to know her independent of Mike. Jackson swirled the scotch in his glass, considering his next move. When he glanced back at her, she was staring at him, her face twisted in displeasure.

Jackson felt a stab of disappointment. Well, what did he expect? She’d met him when he was an arrogant freshman, exploring his newfound skill with women and making a total ass out of himself. She’d called him a womanizer, a user, a bastard. And that’s how she was going to see him until the day he died. Worst of all, it was no one’s fault but his own. He raised his glass to her, and downed it, meaning to pack up and head back out into the storm.

But when that other guy started giving Kyla trouble, Jackson couldn’t walk away.

He strode across the bar, meaning to scare off the douche bag who was clearly upsetting Kyla. When he interrupted them, Kyla looked up at him with a flash of relief in those luminous eyes. Without thinking he tilted her face up and planted a kiss on her lips. Sensation travelled across his skin like a shockwave, jolting his cock awake and twisting the knife deeper into his heart. He pulled back from the kiss and turned toward the other guy, hoping to hide the bulge in his pants from Kyla.

Kyla said something to the pervert and he took off. Jackson chuckled at the irony. She hadn’t needed his help after all. And here he was, with a raging hard-on and an even bigger crush on the beautiful redhead than he’d had before.

That’s probably why he brought up the wedding, and Mike, and how she was better off without the asshole. But when Kyla tried to slap him he moved, catching her wrist before she could make contact. Her eyes widened and her lips parted in a silent “o” of surprise. And then she turned away from him, the damp ropes of her copper mane shielding all but her graceful little nose from his view. He felt another surge in his groin, and let his eyes wander over the rest of her body.

It didn’t take a lot of imagination to picture her out of those wet clothes; the rain had really soaked her through, and that thin little jacket was as good as shellacked to her luscious figure. It curved down along her back to her tiny waist, then jutted back out delightfully around her firm little ass.

“Why would you say that?” she whispered.

Jackson hiked his eyes back up to her face. She turned to study him, eyes watering. Oh, shit. Jackson gritted his teeth. “Sorry,” he said lamely. “It’s none of my business.”

“Did he... did he tell you something that—?” She angled her body toward him and put one cool hand on his arm. But when she made contact, her eyes widened and she glanced down, as if noticing the sculpted muscles under his shirt for the first time.

Maybe it is the first time she’s noticed,
he thought to himself. Kyla had been the only girl immune to his efforts in college. But now, her breath seemed to catch and her eyelashes fluttered. She didn’t take her hand off his arm, he noticed.

Jackson cleared his throat, unaccustomed to feeling out of control. “No, nothing like that. It was more a personality thing.”

“I don’t understand,” Kyla said, narrowing her eyes.

Jackson realized he better get himself out of this conversation before he made matters a whole lot worse. “Look,” he said, trying another one of his smiles. “I’ve had a few of these, and it’s entirely possible I’m just blowing smoke.”

Kyla’s gaze sharpened. “Bullshit. You know exactly what you’re saying.”

Jackson felt a wash of goose bumps spread along his shoulders. If a sub ever used that tone on him in the bedroom, Jackson would have her spread over his knee in two seconds flat, howling for mercy. But Kyla had never indicated an interest in BDSM; Mike had moaned about that frequently over the years as Jackson related his various escapades.

Jackson grabbed Kyla’s wrist with his free hand and slid it off of his arm. “I don’t owe you any explanations, Kyla.” He grabbed her harder than he meant to and she winced, but she didn’t pull out of his grasp. Jackson stared at her. Was that desire in her eyes? Or was his own desire clouding his perception, making him believe she wanted what he wanted.

Yeah,
Jackson thought.
I’m way too turned on for my own good. Time to get the hell out of here.
He slid off the barstool and dropped a twenty next to his glass.