Girl With Guitar

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Authors: Caisey Quinn
Tags: Fiction, General
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contact first. Trace gave in, letting his eyes lower to take in the way her tank top hugged her breasts.
    Oh, God, she wanted him so bad it hurt. Wanted him—no, needed him—to touch her like she could tell he wanted to. But he motioned for her to move aside, so she did. She watched helplessly as he opened the door and nodded her dismissal.
    Fine, she wasn’t going to beg. “Goodnight, Trace,” she said softly.
    A dark warning flashed in his eyes as she realized it was the first time she’d called him by his first name out loud. He held the door open for her. Her body screamed at her to wait him out, to ask him to give her what she needed. But her pride wouldn’t allow that. So she slunk back to her room and collapsed onto her bed. She didn’t lock the door, and that throbbing ache was pulsing for her attention. Why did he have to be so damn hot? The man exuded raw barely controlled power and overwhelming heat. His skin would probably sear hers on impact, but damn she wanted to touch him.
    Since watching Darla parade men in and out of her bedroom, treating her like the trash that she was, Kylie had sworn off the opposite sex. She focused on working her ass off to keep the bills paid, and working on her music took up all of her time anyways. She didn’t know what it would feel like for a man to please her, but she damn sure knew how to please herself. She was a virgin, not a nun.
    Slipping under the covers she closed her eyes and pictured him. Him sitting in the Player’s Club VIP room, his eyes only sparking to life amidst all that sex when he saw her. Him bursting into that bathroom to rescue her in his own way. Him pinning her to the door with his stare and telling her he wanted her.
    Her hands weren’t masculine and strong like his would be, but that’s what her imagination was for. Sliding her fingers down to herself, she groaned and whimpered as she grazed her sensitive flesh. Her body rocked hard off the bed as she dipped into her wetness and slicked it around her folds.
    Sex with Trace would be rough, she knew from the way he grabbed her in The Player’s Club, but she’d bet he could be gentle too. He sat her down outside the Phi Kap house like she was made of glass. His scent lingered on her, that sharp, clean cologne and something else woodsy and warm that was just him .
    She overheated as her orgasm ramped up. She was losing control, wishing she had thrown herself at him moments ago when she had the chance. God, he would feel so good inside her. She was going to come fast, something she’d never been able to manage, often leading her to just give up or avoid this altogether. But this time it felt wonderful to let go. Tortured moans escaped her throat without her permission. She was so damn wound up all the time. For once she just wanted to let go.
    So she did. And oh, dear Lord. Amidst her raging cries, she called out his name. Once, twice, and a third time on a sigh as she came back down to Earth with a shudder. The white hot blanket of shame at the realization of what she’d just done covered her.
    Burying her face in her pillow she begged the universe to be kind to her for once. Please, please tell me he didn’t hear that . Something thrown hard against a wall—a chair maybe?—jolted her entire body almost as hard as her orgasm had. He’d heard all right. And he was pissed.

S he was making coffee in the small kitchenette when he emerged from his room the next morning. Her entire body flushed so deep it was painful. Before she could think of something to say that might ease the tension between them, Trace stepped in close behind her. Bracing his muscular arms on either side of her, effectively trapping her between him and the counter, he leaned in and let his breath tickle her neck.
    “Sleep well?” The rumble of his voice sent a tremor through Kylie’s shoulders.
    “So well it should be a sin,” she drawled, using her heaviest accent while turning in his arms to face him.
    A low growl

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