Taken By The Hero (Hero Romance 2) (3 page)

Chapter Seven

“You look really nice tonight,” Ethan told her as he escorted her down the front steps. Elaine allowed the tension from the reading leave her as she let him wrap his arm around her waist. He was as familiar with her as he’d been a week ago, and she found she sort of missed his voice.

She had dreamed about it often enough.

“Thank you,” she told him as he helped her into his car. “So where are we going?”

Ethan slid in behind the wheel and pressed the button to turn on the car. “It’s a surprise.”

“How did I know you were going to say that?” she said as she allowed him to take her hand while he drove with one. “We’re going to eat, right?”

“You said you ate on Friday nights, so I figured we could do that.” Ethan turned on his turn signal and she sucked in a deep breath. Tonight was the night she would tell him that she didn’t want him around her son just yet. She had thought about it and made up her mind. She didn’t know him well enough to have him making silly promises to a child, and she didn’t want Thomas to grow attached.

“You okay?” Ethan asked as he glanced at her.

“I’m fine, sure.” Elaine gave him a reassuring smile and squeezed his hand. They pulled up in front of a restaurant not that far from her home and she grinned genuinely this time. “So do you mean to wine and dine me in style tonight?”

Ethan shrugged one of his broad shoulders and turned off the car. “I figured it would be a lot better than where I found you.”

“You’ve got that right,” she responded as she helped herself out of the car. It was nice that Ethan was going to open the door for her, but she didn’t want him to feel like she was a damsel in distress or helpless.

They walked through the doors of the small bistro and Ethan led her to one of the tables that was further from the other guests. There was a low din as the other diners talked and somehow the atmosphere felt cozy, comfortable even.

“So you have something on your mind,” Ethan prompted. Elaine was about to respond when their waitress showed up out of nowhere and placed two wine glasses in front of them.

“Can I interest you in the Pinot Noir tonight?” she asked innocently with a wide smile. She looked to be around college-aged with short, black hair and olive-toned skin.

“I’ll have a root beer,” Ethan told her kindly. Elaine wondered if he didn’t want to pay for the wine and then realized he was doing the same thing he’d done the week before. He wasn’t going to drink because he was driving.

“I’ll have the same,” Elaine told the girl kindly.

“You can have a glass of wine if you want. I just don’t drink when I’m driving.” The girl disappeared before she could get caught in the middle of a verbal altercation, but her assumption was wrong.

“I know, and I don’t want to be tipsy when we talk about what this is,” she told him plainly. She took a piece of bread that had been left on the table and began to slather butter on it.

“So what is this, exactly?” Ethan asked her as he took a piece of bread and followed her lead.

“I think it’s a date, but I could be wrong. Maybe you’re a government spy sent here to distract me while someone else steals my mother so that she can give the president a tarot reading.” Elaine tried to deflect with a joke, and Ethan smiled at her, but he wasn’t buying it.

“I know you’re uncomfortable with me around your son, and I respect that. As I said, I don’t push women beyond what they’re comfortable with.” He raised his eyebrows as if he was daring her to contradict him, but she wouldn’t.

“So we’re in agreement that this is to be kept between the two of us, then?”

“For as long as you’d like,” he told her before he took a bite of his bread. For the remainder of the meal, Elaine told him about her discussion with Haley that day at work and Ethan told her about the dinner they were having the next weekend at the fire hall. When he invited her, she accepted without thinking about it.

They were smiling as the two of them walked from the bistro and slid into their respective seats in the car. Ethan’s dark eyes raked over her front and she felt a blush creep up her neck, but she enjoyed his attention. “Would you like to come over for a few hours, to my place?” he asked her as he raised his eyebrows suggestively.

Elaine felt the butterflies return with a vengeance and flashes of seeing the top of his head as he nibbled at her nether regions the last time they had been together made her damp. “I’d like to come over,” she whispered.

They didn’t speak as he drove back to his place. It turned out to be a quaint home on the outskirts of the small town she lived in, and she was surprised when he opened the door and there was a dog waiting for him. The black lab had woofed once before it stepped off to the side, only to come back and give Elaine’s jeans a thorough sniffing.

“Benjie, knock it off,” Ethan chastised as he closed the door and pulled the lab away and into the living room. The dog tried again, but one look at his owner had him sitting down and wagging his tail as if he was a child caught taking a cookie from the cookie jar.

“He’s very pretty,” Elaine said as she reached down to give the dog a pat on the head. She’d wanted a dog for years, but between having Thomas, and then her husband dying, she hadn’t had the time.

“He’s much better than he was two years ago. At least he’s out of the chewing stage,” Ethan said as he moved from his spacious living room decorated with leather furniture to a kitchen with stainless steel appliances and checkerboard patterned stools at a breakfast bar.

“Your place is nice,” Elaine commented as she sat down at the breakfast bar. Ethan pulled out a wine cooler and handed her one before he popped the top off his. She had a split second to wonder if he planned on her staying the night before she popped off the top of her wine cooler and took a sip. It was refreshing and made her feel a little warm, but she knew it’d take many more before she was sloppy drunk.

“You want to watch something on television?” Ethan asked her as he held out his hand. Elaine knew that they wouldn’t be watching television very long that night, if at all. She was tired of fooling around with conversation. He had made it clear he was okay if they were just friends with benefits for the time being, and she couldn’t forget about how their previous night had ended.

She took his hand and let him lead her out to the couch, but when he picked up the remote to turn on the television, she gently took it from his fingers and laid it on the coffee table. A smoldering began in Ethan’s eyes and he smiled with that crooked grin that made her heart stutter. They looked into each other’s eyes a moment before they kissed.

Elaine could feel his tongue sweeping over her lips and opened them so that he could have more of her. Her nipples perked and the sensitive flesh rubbed against the dark red bra she had worn to match her shirt. She reached around to his back and ran her hands over the strong, sinewy muscle just beneath his dress shirt. He’d worn a button up shirt on their date, and she had to admit he looked very handsome in it.

“Elaine,” he breathed as his fingers brushed against the warm flesh of her hips. She raised her arms in the air as he pulled off her shirt and didn’t hesitate in removing her bra.

Her breasts fell free from their confines and her hard nipples begged to be touched. Ethan bent his head down to take one her nipples into his mouth and used his fingers on the other. When she leaned back and began to unbutton her jeans, he chuckled at her and shook his head. His voice was deep and husky as he said, “Not yet, my angel.”

“Ethan, please,” she begged him, wanting him inside of her and needing to feel his throbbing, veiny member pulsing. The thought of it made her groan aloud.

“Not yet,” he told her firmly as he helped her from her jeans. Then he gently removed her panties and tossed them to the side. Elaine had a worried second to wonder if the dog was going to chew on them before she felt his fingers exploring her outer lips. He ran the pads of his fingers across her nub and gently massaged her nether region.

“I want you to come first,” he told her as he smiled down at her.

She was about to respond when he dove two of his fingers into her already wet pussy and stroked up. His other hand snaked up her bucking hips and caught one of her taught nipples between his fingers, but it wasn’t enough. Elaine reached down with one hand and up with the other. She stroked her clit eagerly and teased the free nipple with her other hand, helping him make her come.

Warmth flooded her and her lips parted as she sucked in a deep breath. The movement of her lungs pushed her breasts up and she could hear Ethan’s breathing grow ragged. “That’s so fucking hot,” he whispered to her just as she came around his fingers. Her entire body grew rigid and her hips bucked wantonly as his fingers eagerly stroked her. Elaine made a strangled, wanton noise as she felt her walls pulsing and growing sensitive while he stroked. When he removed his fingers, they were moist with her excitement.

Once he’d made her come, he unzipped his jeans and pulled off his pants in one fluid motion. He had slipped on a condom before he hovered over top of her. She could feel the tip of his penis at her opening and wanted it bad, but she remained still. “I don’t want to come too fast and you’re too hot,” he whispered, nibbling at her earlobe.

Elaine hissed when he reached up his still damp fingers and began to knead her sensitive breasts. He pushed into her, slow inch by slow inch, and when he was hilt deep she moved her hips around in circles. She could feel the stubble from his last shave down there against her clit and groaned as she came around his hard, throbbing cock.

“Please,” she whispered to him as she shuddered with the aftershocks of her second orgasm. Ethan didn’t need to be told twice. He pulled out of her quickly and thrust back into her. With each thrust of his hard member deep inside of her, she thrust her hips up to meet him and relished in the pleasure of feeling him deep inside her.

Her pussy tightened around him and he groaned as he reached beneath her pulled her hips up at a better angle. Once he had her positioned, he thrust into her deeply and hard with a steady rhythm until she cried out his name over and over, her eyes closed tight as she threw her head back. Elaine felt her third climax rip through her in waves and forgot about keeping quiet.

She felt his hot come even through the condom and bathed in the delight it brought her that she had made him climax so quickly. When he pulled off the used condom and replaced it with a new one, she knew she was in for a long night.

We’ll make it work, she thought as she felt him thrust into her again. Somehow, they’d keep seeing each other because she was positive that she didn’t want to stop.

THE END

***BONUS STORIES INCLUDED***

SHADES OF DOMINATION

Alpha Male Romance

CHAPTER ONE

It was well past midnight and Laura Kimball was already into her fifth glass of wine that evening. She stared at the still open pack of cigarettes lying on her dining room table and deliberated as to whether or not she needed another one. It had been six months since she started smoking again regularly, having given up the habit cold turkey for the four years she was married to Dan; even though she told herself she was quite capable of quitting again, it was always going to be tomorrow - if not tomorrow, then next week; if not next week, then next month. But for now, being after midnight, she wasn’t in any state to make a long-term decision. She let out a sigh, as she lit up a smoke.

It had been a ritual every Wednesday night for the past four months. A couple of bottles of Shiraz, a fresh pack of cigarettes and the ghosts of her self esteem. She couldn’t tell you why she chose Wednesday over any other night to honor this strange pact, both a conscious resignation and wry celebration of her solitude. Perhaps it was the recognition of having passed the middle of the workweek without strangling her immediate supervisor at Palmer and Hall. Perhaps it was the crude, sarcastic but strangely flattering comment she heard from a carload of passing teenagers one Wednesday night back in March (where she had been granted with the title of “Queen of the MILFs”) that she chose to immortalize as the instigator of her “Me Day.” But each Wednesday night, not even the sounds of the endless mix CDs she made for herself in her early 20s or the boisterous and audible gropings of her upstairs neighbors were enough to deter Laura from her obligations. 

It would be six hours until she needed to get up and face the day. Like each Thursday morning, she would have to face it with the dry, dull throb of a hangover. She knew that it meant tending to the affection-and-food-starved needs of Wink, her four year old Siamese before shuffling off to brew her first three cups of coffee. She knew it meant checking her Facebook to ensure she didn’t drunkenly post or message any hysterical or self-pitying missives; she learned
that
mistake six months after the divorce. She knew it meant, at least this time, finalizing and confirming her itinerary for that weekend’s convention
—a process even more nerve wracking, since it meant sharing a room with Gloria, her immediate supervisor. In Providence,
Rhode Island
, of all places, a city she assumed could be driven straight through in less time than it took to blink an eye. The thought made her shudder, as she poured herself a sixth glass of wine and instinctually refreshed her laptop.

Laura tried to avoid looking at the photos on her Facebook page for the umpteenth time, but like the past two hours, simply couldn’t help herself. They were of Dan and his new fiancé Sonia, basking on the beach in Bonaire. Smiling effervescently, drunkenly, romping around the sands like a couple of poorly paid bit models for a tourism commercial. Since taking up with Sonia, Dan had not only learned the finer points of body grooming and cross-fit training, but also appeared more relaxed, carefree and reckless. ‘
Why wouldn’t he?’
thought Laura. ‘
After all, with Sonia’s daddy’s money, he doesn’t have to worry about paying the rent. Both of them can get cosmetic surgery at the slightest sign of a wrinkle. Where does that leave me?
’

Laura got up and examined herself from all angles in the dining room mirror. True, she had put on a few pounds since the divorce—twenty, to be exact—but they seemed to compliment her, giving her a more rounded, sensual physique. Her strawberry blonde hair still retained its hue, even though the ends had been frazzled and arid from stress. If lines showed on her face, they did nothing to detract from the buoyancy of her skin. And her slate grey eyes—if now thick and reddened by smoke and wine—still arched upwards at the corners, giving Laura a sly, feline look. 

True, her job as a Senior HR representative for a national law firm wasn’t as glamorous as the lifestyle of a groomed 26-year old heiress; but she was articulate, cunningly intelligent and possessed of a rapier-sharp wit. At 34, she may not be as young and bubbly as she once was when she first started dating Dan; but she was hardly an old maid, either. Laura was pretty enough, compassionate enough and adventurous enough (in heart, at least) to have her pick of any number of eligible men.
So why have I been drinking wine alone for the past two years
, she thought.

For one, she had resigned herself to the luxury of remaining single. After overcoming her initial skepticism, she ventured into online dating a year after the divorce. It was a move she wound up regretting, since she found herself having to contend with a teeming horde of the perpetually cheating, aggressively creepy and just plain dull. She had needs like everyone else, perhaps even more so. But the few late-night and drunken trysts she spent after meeting relative strangers at a bar left her unfulfilled. The sex was, at best, mediocre—detached of any physical intimacy or connection, merely a rote standard default to friction -passionless, artless, dull friction. It was sweat-stained and humid, perhaps but still—both insensate and ungratifying.

The sole exception—the only possible concession she would have made in those two years—would have been Rick, a patent attorney she worked with side by side. Rick was hardly Laura’s standard physical type; gaunt, pale and almost painfully thin, with a healthy shock of salt-and-pepper hair that was permanently unkempt, he resembled an artist rather than an attorney. Which he in fact was, taking up litigation only in the past ten years solely to help pay for his MS-stricken wife’s treatment. There was a fierce intelligence in Rick, erudition owing to his encyclopedic knowledge of classical Greek literature and philosophy, which he could quote and expound upon from memory alone. Laura admired and respected this eccentric figure, whose brown eyes seemed to burn with an inner torment. But what attracted her to Rick was something unspeakable—a primal magnetism he exuded from each pore, a feral passion she could sense burgeoning under his countless reference books and perpetually furrowed brows. She felt it reverberating in the pit of her stomach, and suspected it was mutual. They had taken to working late hours together, more often than not adjourning to Kelly’s, a nearby Irish bar directly across from their office. Over her proverbial gin and tonic and his proverbial Irish whisky—”
Neat
please, Jim-meh”—they’d shoot the breeze well into the evening, discussing anything from the Philadelphia Museum of Art to their own respectively rocky relationships. He took his marriage vows seriously, all the while admitting that as a man, he also had his own needs; and that where he could once release his frustrations through art, he now no longer even had
that
option.

Laura sympathized with Rick, and felt an even stronger admiration for this man almost twenty years her senior. At the same time, it didn’t do anything to quell her draw towards him. On the contrary, it only fed the flames and she suspected that each time he caught a glance of her pouty lips trembling and her wide-open eyes that the feeling was likely mutual. One night, as they were walking past Love Park at around 10 p.m., she could take it no further. She stopped the taller (by nearly a foot) Rick dead in his tracks and seized him, forcing him to crane his neck down as she kissed him violently, hoping that the force and torpor of her lips would unlock his steely reserve. Her estimate proved correct, for they were soon groping one another furiously, obscured by the trees and serenaded by the rush of the fountain. They leaned back against a tree, their bodies pressed with an urgency that overpowered the both of them. She wrapped a leg around Rick, and pressed him against the tree, knowing full well that they could be caught at any time but not giving a damn either way. Their tongues lolled against one another, and she could feel the entirety of her body—from her shoulders to her calves—grow engulfed in a thin veil of mist.

And then, as suddenly as it occurred, Rick pushed her away.

“I’m sorry, Laura but… I just can’t. Not with Claudia suffering at home. You’re wonderful and if things were different, I… I…”

There was no need for him to finish the sentence. Laura knew. She knew how foolish it would have been, not only emotionally, to act as a proverbial “other” woman, but professionally as well. They both knew that were this to ever make the office rounds, they’d be lucky to even collect severance. Besides, what were the chances of a man as eccentric, brilliant and charismatic as Rick sticking around for the likes of a frumpy HR rep anyhow?

She left that night feeling dejected, but assured. That was nine months ago, and she had only seen Rick briefly in passing four or five times.

She thought of him briefly as she lit another cigarette. She let it smolder, periodically taking a puff.  She finished the last of her wine and closed down her laptop. It was 1:19 in the morning and she had to be up a little over five hours. She fell asleep, as she often did most Wednesday nights, in little more than a pair of sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt.