KeyParty (3 page)

She nodded, green eyes wide, and he took her by the hand and
led her inside.

Petra was standing on the coffee table in the middle of the
living room when they rejoined the party. She had two small cloth bags in her
hand, one dark blue and one hot pink, and an enormous fishbowl full of condoms
at her feet.

She was notorious for changing the parameters of the game
for every party. The night’s rules had been established that keys would be
pulled from the women’s bag first, then the men’s. There were two extra
bedrooms available in their big house for anyone too eager to go elsewhere, or
the couple could leave and go to one or the other’s home. Whichever they chose,
they had to end up together.

Of course, whatever happened between players once they were
matched up was completely up to them. Mutual respect between partners, as well
as the use of condoms, was a hard, fast rule—no meant no, no questions asked,
and everyone played safe.

Jude joined Petra on the table and took the blue bag from
her. She snatched it back with an admonishing look and handed him the pink bag
instead.

Ben tucked his hands in his pockets. Something was up.

He shifted slightly, bringing his arm to rest against
Rachel’s. From the corner of his eye he could see her look at him, but she
turned away the moment he looked back.

Jude pulled the first set of keys. The thing was huge, with
several keychains that resembled small toys. A thin, straight-haired blonde
named Bridget stepped forward to claim them. Ben didn’t realize he’d been
holding his breath until it came out on a rush when the set of keys Petra
pulled from the men’s bag were not his. Mark, another friend of Jude’s Ben
didn’t see in their circle very often, came forward to claim them.

Bree came forward on the next set of keys and Alex joined
her a second later. The room erupted in laughter when he stuffed two fistfuls
of condoms into his pockets, swept a clearly excited Bree into his arms and
carried her straight upstairs.

Ben sweated through two more couples being matched up, and
then Rachel stepped forward to claim the next set. It was down to him or
Gavin—a hotshot neurosurgeon who was fiercely competitive during weekly drop-in
basketball games.

The muscles in his jaw tightened as Petra’s hand slid into
the bag. He almost didn’t believe it when her hand came up holding his car key.
Almost.

He turned to Rachel, his blood racing hot in his veins, and
offered her his hand.

“Shall we?”

He was circling her, moving around her slowly as though he
was a great dark wolf sizing her up, his prey. As much as she wanted to the
clothes to go flying and the fucking to begin, she was enjoying the way he was
drawing out the moment.

“I think Petra rigged the game,” Rachel said, her stomach a riot
of butterflies. She was hyper-aware of her nipples pushing against the silky
lining of her dress and the aching throb between her legs.

“I think you might be right,” he answered, pulling his hand
out of his pocket and holding it toward her, palm up. His key fob sat in the
middle with a puffy star sticker attached to the back.

“Damn kiddie nurse and her stickers,” she muttered, and he
smiled.

A long moment passed with him looking as though he was going
to spring at any moment and her becoming increasingly wobbly on her heels.

“We don’t have to do this, Ben,” she offered, suddenly and
hugely embarrassed to have been so obviously set up by her friend. The fact
that he remembered her was one thing. Still wanting anything to do with her
after the way she’d run out on him that night back in college and then never
contacted him again was another.

For as nervous as she was to finally have him in her
bedroom, the absolute last thing she wanted was for him to back out and leave.
How many years had she been replaying the night they’d made out on his couch in
her head? How many times had she imagined going back to finish what they’d
started while touching herself in the small shower of her cabin on the ship, or
in the bathroom alone while Neal slept contentedly after leaving her wanting
more?

Really, there were too many times to count.

“Oh, no,” he taunted, moving around her again. “I’m not
letting you get away so easily this time,” he breathed close to her ear.

She could feel the heat of his body against her back. His
fingertips brushed her neck just below her hairline. Her nipples tightened, her
skin rippled with goose bumps and a fresh wave of heat rolled out from her
core.

“You and I have some unfinished business to attend to, don’t
we?” he asked, trailing a single fingertip down her spine. Her eyes closed, her
entire being focused on his touch moving under the back of her dress, sliding
across her skin until it hooked one thin strap and slipped it off her shoulder.

With one side of her dress just barely hanging on by her
hard nipple, she pulled herself up straight and forced herself to look him in
the eye as he moved in front of her again. “I guess we do.”

“Good.” One corner of his mouth curled. “So tell me, Rachel,
why did you run out that night?”

How could she tell him she’d been an inexperienced
twenty-year-old, more frightened than curious about the erection grinding
against her through their clothes?

An erection that had seemed preposterously huge to a
virginal college girl.

“I got nervous,” she whispered.

“Are you nervous now?” His eyes dropped to her mouth when he
touched just the tips of his fingers to her lower lip.

She simply looked at him, the trembling in her belly growing
by degrees, before she shook her head no.

“And how did Petra know you and I might want to end up
together tonight?” His fingers traveled over her jaw and down her neck. He
paused to finger the hollow at the base of her throat before moving to the
precariously low neckline of her dress.

“She might have known I had a bit of a thing for you back in
the day.”

Rachel’s breath hitched when he tucked his fingers into her
dress and moved toward her breast. She shivered when the backs of his fingers
grazed her nipple. His breath escaped in a rush as the fabric came free,
exposing her.

Forget drawing out the moment. She wanted to rip open his
pants, free his cock she could see straining against the flat front and beg him
to fuck her hard and fast. Instead she stood there, arms at her side, letting
him cradle her breast in his palm, his thumb brushing over the hard peak,
making her tremble visibly now.

“Are you going to run away again tonight?” he asked,
dragging the other strap off her shoulder. Her dress slid down her body to the
floor. He took in the sight of her, naked now except for the small white lace
panties and her heels, and groaned deeply.

She shook her head in response, her body reacting vividly to
the sound he’d made.

“Good girl.” He reached behind his head, gripped his shirt
by the collar and pulled it off in one smooth motion.

He was unbelievably gorgeous—broad-shouldered, defined but
not bulky, sleek through the waist with his pants sitting low on his hips,
showing nearly every inch of his taut man belly.

His hand came back up to cradle the back of her head. The
other slid around her back, pressing them together, chest to chest, skin on
bare skin.

A lusty sigh bubbled up out of her throat as he covered her
lower lip with that beautiful mouth of his. She could taste the lime from his
drink on his tongue when he touched it to her lip, prompting her to part hers
and let him inside. Her whimper when he tightened his fingers in her hair,
angled her head just a little and sank deep into the kiss was one of pure
submission.

Merciful God in heaven, she was
finally
naked in Ben
Richards’ arms. She could feel his heart beating through bone and hard muscle
and incredibly warm skin. His long-fingered hands made her skin tingle where
they spanned her back, the taut muscles of his stomach pressed flat against her
softer belly.

And then she was moving backward until they were stopped by
the door at her back. She clutched at the long, muscular line of his back as he
pressed into her, pinning her chest with his, pulling hard on her mouth.

She couldn’t wait. She slipped her hands between their
bellies and went for the waist of his pants. She didn’t want the niceties—the
kissing of her breasts and obligatory taking turns touching each other, drawing
out the moment. She’d spent plenty of time reliving the foreplay on the couch.
It was time to get down to business.

“I don’t think so.” His voice was rough as he grabbed her
wrists and pinned them to the door above her head. “Where do you think you’re
going in such a hurry?” His dark, velvety, gray eyes glittered with amusement.

“Please, Ben.” Good Lord, she was panting.

“Please what?” He backed away just far enough that they were
no longer touching. Still holding her wrists with one hand, he leaned against
the door on that arm and waited for her answer.

“I want you inside of me. Now.” She arched her body toward
him but he put his free hand on her belly and firmly but gently pushed her
back.

“Do you?” He took a long look down the length of her body.
“How much?”

A red-hot flush spread over her chest and up her neck to her
face.

“Ben,” she pleaded quietly.

“I’ve been waiting a long time to finish things with you.”
The raw honesty in his statement made the temperature in her body burn
brighter. “The least you can to is answer a simple question,” he added. “On a
scale from one to ten.”

She turned away, unable to look directly at him.

“I can find out for myself,” he warned, his hand sliding
down her belly and into the waist of her panties.

Her breath hitched but she didn’t try to stop him. She
wanted—no, desperately needed—him to touch her. She swallowed the next moan
that threatened to come up out of her but could to nothing about the shiver
that rippled through her when his fingers curled over her sex. Her whole body
jerked as the tip of his middle finger stroked her clit before slipping into
her.

“Fuck, Rachel.” He leaned in until just the fine black hair
of his chest brushed her aching nipples. “You’re so wet,” he murmured against
her neck.

Her mouth fell open when he started to stroke her with his
slick finger. Her whole body bowed out, reaching for him, her hips rocking. She
needed to touch him, but there was no way she was getting out of the grip he
had on her wrists.

“Tell me how bad you want it.” There was the slightest bit
of desperation in the strained sound of his voice. He changed the pressure and
direction of his fingers, grazed her jaw with his teeth and added, “Tell me and
I’ll give it to you.”

She turned her face toward his for a kiss. “Please.”

He evaded and stopped moving his fingers.

“I want you more than anyone I’ve wanted before,” she
whispered, voice shaky.

“One to ten.”

“A hundred and ninety-nine, goddamn it.” She jerked her arms
free.

He dipped his knees and lifted her off her feet.

“That wasn’t so bad, now was it?” he asked, navigating
toward the bed with her wrapped around him.

He stood her next to the bed. “Lie on your stomach.”

She blinked, startled by the command and aroused by his
authoritative tone.

“You heard me.” He turned her around by her shoulders and
moved behind her, his hands sliding around her waist, over her belly and up to
cradle her breasts.

He brushed his fingers over her nipples and let her press
her ass against his cock for just a moment.

She started to step out of her shoes, but he stopped her.

“Leave them on.” He pinched her nipples, making her gasp
before he released her and gave her a gentle nudge forward.

She went up on the bed on her knees and stretched out the
way he asked. There was a crinkle of plastic and three condoms landed on the
bed near her. She tried to look over her shoulder at him when she heard his
zipper and the soft swish of fabric as he took his pants off, but her hair had
fallen into her eyes.

A moment later she felt his fingertips on her ankles. He
trailed them lightly up the back of her calves, making them flex under the
tickle of his touch. They both laughed softly when he brushed them over the
backs of her knees and she squeaked and had to bury her face in the mattress.

She spread her legs when he coaxed them open and reached
behind herself to touch him when the bed dipped as he knelt between her knees.
Ben grabbed her wrist, stopping her. She could feel the hard, hot tip of his
cock touch her ass cheek as he leaned over her.

“I didn’t say you could touch me yet, did I?” he asked,
moving her arm over her head. “Hold the edge of the bed with both hands until I
tell you to move them.”

A wild thrill poured through her, stealing her breath and
making her pussy throb.

His hand skimmed down the line of her arm while his lips
moved over the back of her neck, the tip of his tongue leaving warm wet spots
on her skin. He took his time, caressing her back with his mouth and hands, his
long fingers spread over her skin, drawing sensations out of her she wasn’t
aware she could feel until just then.

She was practically purring with ecstasy by the time he
worked his way down her body and told her, “I think yours just might be the
finest ass I’ve ever seen, Rachel.”

She snorted out a short laugh and tried to look at him over
her shoulder. There was a whole lot of it at any rate, but she was in no
position to argue with him. She was too overwhelmed by the sound of admiration
in his voice, the feel of his long-fingered hands spanning it as though it were
the ass of a much-smaller woman, and the vibrant trembling of her
overwhelmingly aroused body.

“You don’t believe me?” He hooked his fingers into the waist
of her panties.

“I don’t have any reason not to believe you,” she answered,
raising her hips a little as he stepped off the bed, slipped the lacy fabric
down her legs.

“Up on your knees,” he said quietly, kneeling behind her
again. “No, just your knees,” he clarified when she started to go up on all
fours.

She drew her legs under her until just her ass was raised in
the air, her knees far apart because he was between them, exposing her to him.
Her nipples, unnervingly sensitive, brushed the comforter, sending little
shocks straight to her clit. When she looked between her open legs she could
see the strong lines of his thighs and his long, thick cock reaching for her
from its thicket of black hair.

Her memory had not been playing “the fish was
this
big
” tricks on her. He was fucking huge. And she wanted every glorious inch
of him inside her.

Ben muttered appreciatively and sat back on his heels. Her
eyes closed the first time he touched his mouth to one cheek and set about
lavishing her with attention, alternately kissing and biting, caressing and
digging his fingers into her flesh almost to the point of pain.

She was white-knuckling the edge of the mattress, her back
arched as though she was a cat in heat, her pussy soaking wet and clit swollen
nearly to the point of bursting when he spread the folds of her pussy open and
shifted his body slightly.

She let out a little “eep” of surprise and rolled onto her
back away from him.

He blinked and held up his hands when she landed on her
back. She lay there staring up at him for a moment, her chest heaving, before
she recovered.

“I can’t wait any longer.” She scrambled to her knees and
drew him away from the edge of the bed toward her. It wasn’t a complete lie,
but she wasn’t going to tell him she didn’t want him to do what he’d been about
to do either.

She buried her hands in his hair, pressed her body against
his and tried to pull him in for a kiss. He held her jaw in one hand and
resisted, his gaze cool and calculating.

“A hundred and ninety-nine, Ben,” she emphasized, sliding a
hand between them, stroking his cock from head to root and curling her fingers
over his balls.

His eyes lit with amusement and his nostrils flared as she
watched him hold back a smile. When she tried to kiss him again, he let her.
And then some.

Her head reeled with the raw hunger of it as he drew her in
and plunged deep.