Taken on Thanksgiving Read online

  Without thinking I pull the sweater off over my head, feeling immediate relief as my top rises up past my round belly. I can feel the humid air of the kitchen get under the cloth, swirl around my bra, cooling me off just a bit but nowhere enough. I wish I’d worn a skirt, I think as I spread my legs and bend over to look through the oven window before I pull open the door.

  And then I hear the kitchen door close behind me, and I straighten up so quick I almost throw my back out.

  “Aunt Raff thought you might need some help in here,” comes Angus’s deep voice, slow and confident, that Aussie accent unmistakable but subtle, like he didn’t just get off a plane from the goddamn Outback. I almost want to tell him that I’m fine, that I can handle a twenty-five pound turkey just fine, that I know my way around the kitchen, that I don’t need his “help”—whatever that means.

  But instead I just nod and blink, feeling strangely tongue-tied as I look up into those green eyes that are hard and focused, shining with an intensity that’s only making me sweat in this warm kitchen. Hurriedly I turn back to the oven, frowning as I look at the bird and realize it still needs some time in there. This old oven probably isn’t holding its temperature as well as mine does.

  “It needs a few more minutes,” I say, turning back to Angus and touching my hair. I force a smile and try to lean back casually on the kitchen counter. But I misjudge how far the counter is, and I gasp as my hand moves through thin air and I stumble backwards like this is a scene from a slapstick comedy.

  Angus grabs me around the waist with lightning quickness, and I almost swoon when I feel his strength, sense how with one hand he could probably lift me off my feet, swing me over his knee, bring that big hand down on my bare bottom until my own thermometer goes Ding! You’re Done!

  What the hell is happening to me, I think as I feel myself go red with embarrassment—not just from looking like a ditz, but also from the thoughts going through my head as I stand close to this beast of a man, breathe in his masculine musk, a warm, heavy aroma that reminds me of forests and oceans, mountains and caves, the past and the future.

  “Oh, shit, I . . . I’m . . .” I whisper as I lean into him and quickly push myself back before I can’t push myself back. His arm is still around my waist, firm and tight, his fingers spread. I can sense he wants to run that big paw down my curves and cup my ass, squeeze it hard, dig those strong fingers in and just take me. But he holds firm, and I just stand there like a fool, still blinking in disbelief at the way that table rose up like I’ve stepped into an X-rated cartoon, with a giant of man squeezing his massive body under a play-sized table. “I’m . . . I’m . . .” I mumble, stammering like an idiot, babbling like a fool. “I’m . . .”

  “You’re mine,” he whispers back like he’s finishing my sentence for me, that arm still around my waist, those eyes still locked with mine, that beast of an erection pushing his jeans out in the most obscene way.

  The blood is pounding so hard in my ears that I’m not even sure if I heard him right. I couldn’t have heard him right. There’s no way he just said what I think he said. I’m hearing things. I’m imagining things. Maybe there’s like a radon leak or something in this old house, a gas leak that’s making us all act crazy. Maybe Angus said, “You’re fine” not “You’re mine!” That makes so much more sense, doesn’t it?

  But I’m certainly not fine, I think as I look up into his eyes again and think about those weird, tiny coincidences that led me to this moment in time, this moment in a warm kitchen, in the arms of a man I don’t know from Adam but who just said . . .

  “Um, so how long have you been in America, Angus?” I say quickly, touching my hair again as I regain my footing and take a step back from him. I need to talk, to get myself back to reality, to get my head right, my body right!

  He’s quiet for a moment, his jaw clenching as his gaze travels down my smooth cheeks to my bare neck, the neckline of my thin top, the hint of cleavage that’s peeking up at him like it’s calling out for his touch.

  And then suddenly Angus takes his arm away from me, drawing back and blinking as if he just used every ounce of his will power to step back. A chill goes through me as I see his massive body all tensed up and rigid, arms thick as tree-trunks, popping with veins under the rolled-up sleeves of his denim shirt that looks about ten years out of style.

  “About ten years,” he says. “A little more.”

  “Oh, wow,” I say, smiling nervously and touching my hair for like the tenth fucking time. I feel the tension clawing at me as I wonder if we just lost that moment, if we just lost everything! And now I know I’m not thinking clearly, and I just shake my head and keep talking. “What have you been doing the last ten years?”

  He takes a breath and exhales slowly. “Time, mostly.”

  “Sorry, what? You’ve been doing what?”

  “Oh, look at the time,” he says, holding up his arm and turning his wristwatch towards him. But he doesn’t look at his watch. He’s still looking at me. Still looking at me like that. “Isn’t your turkey done?”

  I see the sparkle in his devilishly green eyes, and I can tell that he’s messing with me, playing with me . . . flirting with me? I blink and nod, glancing at his wristwatch that’s clearly not working. But something here is working, and in that moment I just let the smile break on my face, let the tension wash over me and through me as I acknowledge that this man is making me feel something I don’t understand but somehow totally understand. I’m thirty-three years old. I’ve been around the block. I’ve been in the company of nice men and assholes, gym-rats and couch-potatoes, men who wanted an anonymous fuck and a few who wanted me forever. But I always said no, always let even the “good enough” ones pass by even as my mother reminded me I wasn’t getting any younger, thinner, or more fertile.

  For years I said no, it occurs to me as I smile up at Angus and then nod and turn towards the turkey in the oven, that glistening bird that’s brought us all together today.

  How many years did I say no, I try to think as I slowly bend over and lean forward to check the turkey with a meat thermometer, my breath catching as I see the sharp metal tip slide easily into the succulent flesh even as I feel Angus’s gaze take in the sight of my raised rump like maybe I’m gonna be the main course today.

  “Ten,” I mutter under my breath as it suddenly occurs to me that it’s been exactly ten years since I said no to my boyfriend’s marriage proposal, ten years since I started saying no to every man who wanted to be part of my life, ten years since I almost subconsciously decided I was waiting for someone . . . someone who made me feel no doubt, someone whose very presence made it clear that he was the one, that he was mine, that I was his.

  You’re mine, comes that whisper again, and it’s coming from inside me, a memory being played back. It’s a memory from like a minute ago, but somehow it feels like it’s been there for ten years, maybe forever.

  I feel a shadow fall across my bent-over body, and I know Angus has moved closer, that he’s standing right behind me, looking down at me with that look in his eyes, that need in his soul, those words on his lips

  You’re mine.

  And I feel myself nodding, not sure what I’m nodding at, what I’m agreeing too, what I’m stepping into.

  But when I feel Angus slowly run his finger down my lower back, I straighten up and let the oven door slam close again. I shudder as I sense his looming presence behind me, gasp as I feel him run those big hands of his along my sides, tracing their way up along my curves until he’s pressed up behind me, his face buried in my hair, cock pressed against my ass.

  “Oh, God, this is . . .” I start to mutter as Angus breathes against my neck and kisses the bare skin with a gentleness that’s almost bursting with the need I can feel built up in him just like it’s been building in me. I swallow hard as I think of old Mr. and Mrs. Rafferty in the very next room, and I’m about to weakly remind
him that we can’t possibly do this—whatever this is—with his elderly aunt just outside the door.

  But then I hear music.

  It’s coming from the living room, and I almost laugh out loud when I realize Mrs. Raff has turned on her old-fashioned record player and is just straight-up blasting the volume!

  Then I remember how she looked at me just last week and said something about how sex was fundamental to life, how even worms or frogs had sex . . .

  And I wonder if she . . . if this whole thing was . . . is . . .

  Ohmygod, did that wily old woman arrange for this to happen?!

  “Your aunt,” I mutter through a smile, shaking my head as I feel Angus kiss my neck again, grind his tremendous erection into my soft bottom, rub my arms and then grasp my breasts with a gentle firmness that almost makes me pass out. “She’s something else.”

  “So are you,” he whispers against my skin, his breath warm and wild, his aroma overwhelming me just like his physical presence overwhelms me from behind. “I’ve waited ten years for this. Ten years for you. Now you’re in my arms, and I’m never letting go.”

  I almost frown as I listen to him talk like we know each other, like we aren’t just two strangers who don’t know a thing about the other. But instead of a frown there’s a smile on my face. Instead of doubt there’s nothing but certainty in my heart. I don’t know if I’m being suckered into feeling like this because of the strange coincidences that brought us together. I don’t know if waiting ten years for “the one” got me to the point where I was just ready to break, to throw my arms up and just settle for the next guy who showed interest. But I can’t help but feel a strange warmth inside when I hear Angus talk about waiting ten years . . . ten years just like I’ve been waiting.

  “Ten years . . .” I whisper, leaning my head back and resting my weight against Angus’s broad, hard body. He’s like a brick wall behind me, and he makes me feel so warm and secure it’s breaking through every barrier I’ve put up over the years. I look down at his big hands massaging my breasts with increasing force as his breathing gets heavier, his cock gets harder, his embrace gets tighter. I gasp as his right hand moves up and gently closes around my neck, and when I see an old tattoo that looks far from professional, like it was done by some dude with a wire-hanger and a bottle of ink, I suddenly remember Angus’s quip about what he’s been doing in America for the past decade.

  “Been doing time,” he’d said nonchalantly, like it was perfectly normal cocktail-party conversation to suggest that you’ve just completed a ten-year stint in prison.

  And now I feel reality whispering to me like a fairy godmother, telling me to take a step back and think about what the hell I’m doing—and with whom I’m doing it!

  “Angus,” I say, my voice trembling as he rubs my neck and licks my cheek, holding me so tight against his hard body that I don’t think I could even move, let alone break free. “Listen, the turkey’s gonna burn if I don’t get it out.”

  “I’m gonna burn if I don’t get this out,” he growls against my cheek as he grinds his massive erection so hard against my ass I can feel his swollen cockhead clearly spreading my buttcheeks.

  “Wow, you Aussies really know how to sweet-talk a woman,” I say, unable to hold back a giggle at the lame-ass, over-the-top quip that somehow has a touch of sincerity that’s making my own heat spiral upwards. The way he’s got his hand around my throat scares me in a subtle way. But he’s doing it with a gentleness that’s getting to me, like he’s showing me that yeah, he could physically dominate me in the most profound way, control me to the extreme, take me here and now any way he wants . . . but he won’t because he’s also in control of himself, like he’s learned how to control himself, how to dominate himself, how to rule himself.

  “Been practicing my sweet-talk in the prison yard,” he says. “Glad it’s working. Now turn around and gimme some sugar, baby.”

  I snort with laughter as Angus whips me around with such force that my hair flies open and hits him across the face. We both laugh at the same time, and then he’s kissing me, kissing me hard, kissing me deep, kissing me with everything he has, kissing me like I’m everything he has . . .

  And I am, comes the thought as I melt into his big warm body like butter on a turkey-breast. I am everything he has.

  Because I’m his.

  Oh God, I’m his!

  4

  ANGUS

  She’s mine.

  That was the first thought I had when I saw her walk into the room like a vision of pure beauty, pure woman, pure mine. Hips swinging like they couldn’t be controlled. Ass moving like it had a mind of its own. Boobs bouncing under that sweater that I knew needed to come the fuck off her.

  My cock went hard so quick it was all I could do to pull my chair up close to the table so I wouldn’t freak out everyone in the room. No doubt ten years of being backed up like a motherfucker was causing this, but I swear it felt like something more, like this was the reason I made that choice at the bus-stop, like she was the reason.

  “You’re mine,” I blurted out to her in the kitchen, the words coming out like I couldn’t hold them back. And then everything moved like I had stepped into a dream, and before I knew it there was music playing in the background, birds singing in my head, a woman in my arms . . .

  My woman in my arms.

  Her breasts felt like they’d been designed to fit in my meaty paws. Soft and full, with big nipples that I can’t wait to take between my lips. Her ass felt like it had been created for me to pound, and I can’t wait to spread those cheeks and claim her like no other ever has, like no other ever will.

  But right now all I can think about is this kiss.

  Our first kiss.

  A kiss that wipes away the memory of every kiss in my past.

  A kiss that clears the path to my future.

  A kiss that sets me free.

  “You do taste like sugar,” I growl as I lick my lips and finally break from that deep, wet kiss that has us both gasping for air. “Here. Gimme some more.”

  She laughs, her pretty round face blushing bright red as I lean in and kiss her again. Then she turns her head and glances at the oven. “OK, I really need to—”

  “The turkey can wait,” I growl. “I can’t. I need this, Amy. I fucking need this right now. I need you. I need you and I’m gonna take you.”

  She turns back to me, blinking as if she’s not sure if this is really happening. Then I see her reach her hand towards the oven and slowly turn it off before blinking once more and taking a shuddering breath.

  And then she nods.

  Just one nod.

  And that’s all I need.

  I push her up against the kitchen counter, and without hesitation just rip her top open, push her bra up over her boobs, and descend on her as I feel ten years of self-control screaming to be let free, howling to run wild, roaring to be released.

  The sight of her big red nipples makes me groan out loud, and I almost drool at the luscious sight. A moment later I’ve got her right nipple in my mouth and I’m sucking so hard she screams and claws at my thick hair. But now I’m fucking gone, and I slurp and bite like a beast, moving to her other breast and doing the same as I slide my hand between her legs and rub her mound through her jeans. I’m still sucking her boobs as I unzip her, and when the warm scent of her sex rises up to me, I fall to my knees and jam my face into her crotch.

  “These need to come off,” I growl, pulling her jeans down past her ass, hating the fact that I need to pull my face away from her intoxicating crotch so I can get them off her. She grabs my shoulders to balance herself, and finally I get those pesky jeans off and push her hips back against my aunt’s kitchen counter.

  I take a moment to look her up and down, and the sight is so beautiful I almost fucking cry. Womanly hips that I know can take everything I have to give. Thick t
highs that are gonna ride me when I say it’s time. And a long, perfect slit that’s so fucking wet I can see its outline through her blue satin panties.

  Slowly I pull her panties down, groaning again as her pussy shows itself through her glistening pubic curls. Her feminine musk is so strong I almost pass out, and a moment later her panties are off and in my fucking face. I don’t give a damn how sick this is, and I just breathe in her scent from her soaked panties before tossing them away and pushing my face into her mound for a taste of the real thing.

  The tang of her cunt is like a goddamn drug, and I push my tongue all the way up and inside as I spread her slit with my fingers. My upper lip grinds against her stiff clit, and after a divine moment of savoring her taste, I let my tongue go wild like a goddamn snake on the hunt. Her wetness is flowing like a river as I tongue-fuck her so deep my mouth is wide open to the point my jaws hurt. I’m breathing hard, drinking her juice like it’s a nectar that’s giving me power, a potion that’s setting me free.

  A second later she comes in my mouth, all over my face and beard, screaming and almost pulling my fucking hair out as she squirts and thrashes, her wetness pouring out of her until it’s dripping down my chin and pooling on the goddamn linoleum.

  I reach around her and spread her buttocks, fingering her tight asshole as she grinds her cunt into my face, comes again for me, just for me, only for me.

  “It’s all for me, you hear?” I growl as I unbuckle and unzip with a desperation I’ve never fucking felt. I stand and quickly step out of my jeans and underwear, pull my shirt off as I feel the seams rip, and without waiting even a moment push my cock up into her, into my woman like I need to stake my claim, plant my seed, take what’s mine right now, right here.

  “Oh, God!” she wails as my thick cock spreads her wet walls until I’m balls deep, so far up into her that she’s almost lifted off her damned feet! My need is so wild I’m afraid I’ll hurt her, but when I feel her nails dig into my upper back as she braces herself for the onslaught, I know that my first instinct was true: