Reckless Kiss: Episode 1

REckless Kiss: Episode 1

Alexis Anne Free Books

Reckless Kiss - Episode 1

She came to me, as they all did, through a friend. A recommendation. Need a good time? Call Leo.

You see way back when I discovered that my cock did a lot of amazing things I also learned women were generally treated like crap. I could be excused—rewarded even—for having a heat-seeking missile between my legs, but their skirts were always too short, their tops too low, their makeup too suggestive. When they explored the many wonders of their bodies people had a lot of not-so-nice things to say.

Being the opportunist that I was, I saw a chance to do something about that. I decided to use my talents for good and give the women I encountered pleasure for the sake of pleasure. No judgment. No stories. No gossip. They could come to me and feel free to be . . . free.

And of course I got the benefits too.

Thus my position as perpetual good guy with a good cock and a good time, was born. I was happy with my life and felt pretty damn proud of the gift I was giving the world until tonight.

Oh, tonight I was feeling a lot of things. Most of them I’d never felt before. The one that had me most perplexed was the feeling of being consumed.

Confidence, pride, direction—all gone. Blown to smithereens by one Esme Brown. Raven-haired siren with golden brown eyes, full lips, and skin like silk. I never wanted to stop touching her. Tasting her. Sinking inside her.

A friend of a friend from college.

Leo, you still fuck for fun? Good. My girl Esme needs a night. She’s spectacular.

She sounded fantastic. I had my friend give her my number. We arranged dinner—I always started with dinner—and I went through my usual pre-game rituals, confident this night would be like all the rest.

I waited at the bar, drinking a Blanton’s on the rocks, with a copy of The Romance on The Red-Eye sitting beside me. I picked a different book for every woman. It was her sign she’d found me.

The bar sat at the front of the restaurant with large windows to the street. It would give Esme Brown a perfect opportunity to spy on me from a safe distance. Get her bearings. Decide this was a mistake and run for the hills.

Or not.

“I tried really hard not to laugh when you texted me this book.” Her rich voice floated over my shoulder. I caught sight of her delicate hand first, her long fingers drumming the dark cover of the novel on the bar beside me.

I think maybe in that moment I knew I was screwed because I hesitated. I never hesitate. But something told me once I took in the rest of this woman I’d never be the same.

And yet I turned anyway.

“Why laugh?” I said.

Drinking her in was the first great pleasure of my night. I generally began by noting details. What a woman chose to wear, how she carried herself, her first lines, they all told me who she was and what she’d need from me. But with Esme the details were more like highlights I couldn’t ignore.

Her sapphire blue blouse might be whimsical but on Esme it looked like a woman who’d just left work, stripped off her blazer, swapped out her heels, let down her hair, and was trying more than she was succeeding to forget about work for a few hours.

She looked like a woman who needed to be thoroughly kissed.

My body roared to life, commanded, it seemed, by hers to perform the task.

Then she smiled. Red lipstick was a gift to all mankind. Not only did it make lips sexy but it also made all men envision hitting a bull’s-eye with their dicks. I wanted her red lipstick around my cock. Now. Immediately.

And that was just plain against my code.

My dates always came first. Well, after I’d smeared their lipstick, ruined their hair, and indulged their fantasies. But in order to get that red ring around my quickly hardening staff now I’d have to break my rules.


Damn, horrible, unlucky shame.

Romance on the Red-Eye was a terrible book. I took it as a bad sign but since Roger insists you’re a good guy who just so happens to give a good time, I decided to ignore my superstitious side.” She slid onto the barstool. “What are you drinking?”

I waved for the bartender, happy to have a distraction. “Blanton’s. What can I get you?”

She glanced at the selection behind the bar. “The same.”

I closed my eyes for just a moment. Women who drank good bourbon were my greatest weakness. Down boy. It’s just a damn drink. “Another for me and one for the lady.”

I couldn’t stop memorizing her details. Top to bottom, bottom to top. How she managed to make pin-up fashionable for work, I didn’t understand. Raven hair curled just so, one side pulled up to reveal her ear. A gorgeous ear. A lobe I wanted to nibble until she sighed. Her nose was narrow and her cheekbones pronounced, altogether a lovely face, but it was her piercing, dancing eyes that brought it all together. Curves in all the best ways, generous breasts, delicious hips, and calves that would make any man drop to their feet and worship.

When I met a new woman the air was always heavy with the promise of things to come, but tonight, with Esme, the air was so thick it was damn near suffocating. Why? I couldn’t really say. She was attractive but so were most women in their own way. There was beauty and sex appeal in anyone if you knew to look for it. And so each of these nights always began with promise, excitement, and the zing of anticipation.

What I was feeling now was not that. It was more. So much more.

She arched a dark, elegant brow as she gazed at me. “Are you really going to wine and dine me, fuck me, and let it be that?” There was nothing but pure curiosity in her question, and maybe some amusement.

“I don’t fuck women.” I offered her the last sip of my Blanton’s but she declined, so I threw it back. “Fucking implies using. Fucking implies taking. I do not use and I do not take.”

“Well then what do you call it?”

For the life of me I couldn’t get over the mischief in her eyes. “I call it what it is. Sex between two consenting adults.” Except I already knew what we were about to do was more than that. I was half dizzy from her nearness. I had to resist the urge to move closer so I could breathe her in, taste her, feel her skin beneath my palm. My muscles fired, demanding I take the action, all while my mind simultaneously refused to follow through.

“Why Romance on the Red-Eye?” A smile twitched at the corner of her red lips.

I replied automatically. “Because it was the number one romance on this week’s bestselling charts.”

“You follow bestseller charts?” She flipped through the book, sniffing the pages.

Only a bookworm did such a thing. My skin itched with the feeling of familiarity. As if I knew this woman. No, more that that. It was as if I’d always known her. As if her smile and her quirks were already memorized by my body. I knew later, when I took her to my bed, she would feel like she’d always been there, that I would already know what she needed, how she needed to be touched. That ache I had to run my tongue over the skin of her throat wasn’t out of curiosity. I had the strangest sensation I already knew exactly how she’d taste, and until I had it, I wouldn’t be whole.

I cleared my throat, hoping it would clear the insanity from my head. “It’s my gimmick. I bring a book to these meetings. I usually choose a romance because while some might not think what we’re agreeing to do is very romantic, I happen to think there is a great deal of romance to it.”

The corner of her mouth quirked up. “I am so intrigued by you Mr. Hancock. Please, tell me how tonight is romantic.”

Romance wasn’t about candles and flowers. It was about intention. I turned my glass on the bar, studying the golden liquid, then held it up for a toast. “Here’s romance for you, Esme. Tonight I promise to fulfill your every need, to give you the pleasure you deserve and worship your body the way it was intended.” Her eyes widened and darkened, the pulse in her throat quickened, her cheeks flushed. My dick hardened in response. “Tonight I am yours and you are mine and nothing else matters.”

She took a shaky breath and touched her glass to mine, then shot it back. “And here I thought romance was dead,” she whispered, clearly affected by my little speech.

Hell, I’d affected myself. I’d said a lot of nice things over the years about why I did what I did, but I’d never spoken with such emotion or intention, as if I needed this night every bit as much as she did.


She nodded so I stood and waited while she gracefully slid off the stool. Her pencil skirt clung to her curves, her high heels forcing her hips to sway in that incredibly sexy way as she walked ahead of me.

The hostess saw us coming and waved us to the table I had ready and waiting. Wanting to impress Esme I pulled out her chair before seating myself. We ordered quickly and moved on to flirting. Or maybe it was foreplay. I wasn’t sure anything I’d done since I first laid eyes on her hand had been anything but sexually driven.

We both carefully avoided all mention of careers and family, sticking to safer topics. We shared a love of screwball comedies and horror flicks. We both loved to read. She had an IUD and I promised to wear a condom at all times.

Every moment I slipped a little deeper into lust. The world forgotten and in its place three objectives: taste, breathe, consume.

I had to have her on my tongue. I wanted to drink her in, lick every inch of her body, drown in her flavor. The instinct to have my lips on her created a fog in my head that blotted out everything else.

I needed to breathe her in. I wanted to memorize her scent. Get high on her arousal. I wanted to know what she smelled like now, before me, and then how different she was after I’d pleasured her.

Because I was consumed and I wouldn’t be satisfied until she felt the same way. I needed to be inside her, to feel her muscles clamped around my shaft, locking us together. I was absolutely certain there would be no greater pleasure.

I’d heard of men losing their minds to their dicks but I’d never lost control in that way. What I was feeling now wasn’t that, my dick wasn’t in charge, but I had a feeling this was similar.

And Esme seemed to be affected as well. Neither of us drank anything with dinner and yet her cheeks remained flushed, her eyes bright, and if she sank her white teeth into her damned red lower lip one more time I was going to come in my pants.

She pushed her dark hair behind her ear and rested on her elbow. “How does this work? Is it a one and done kind of deal or is there an open option on the night?”

My body exploded with heat and my heart actually skipped an entire beat from the sudden reaction. “It’s whatever you need, Esme,” I managed to say with a full voice, “I’m yours for the night.”

Her eyes locked with mine, the need and electricity sparking through the air between us. “Good.”

And that all led to here.

My bed.

After midnight.

One orgasm each.

And seeming no end in sight.

I sank slowly back into her heat. The way her legs spread for me, her hips fitting right into my hands as I pumped, it was like her body was made to fit mine.


Her smart mouth from dinner dissolved into sugar at my commands in the bedroom.


Her moans and pleas for more unleashed a side of me I hadn’t seen before. A man with an unquenchable need to satisfy.

Oh yes, I always pleased my dates. And yes, I was compelled by my own pride to do so.

This was different.

This was primal.

I quickly learned Esme was a woman with no boundaries and that made her even sexier than she already was. My cock in the back of her throat? She liked it. Her hands behind her back while I tasted every fold? She loved it. My hand fisted in her hair? She asked for more.

Nothing I touched fazed her. Nothing seemed to be enough to really satisfy her either. I moved us to the dresser where we could both look in the mirror, her in front of me on full display. I watched her face as I explored. Pinching, rolling, kneading. Her skin flushed each time I commanded her to do something, lighting a fire in her eyes that seemed both foreign and natural at the same time.

She was a confusing concoction that I could not figure out. Sweet, needy, aggressive.

“Sink back on my cock.”

She used the dresser to push backward as my dick stretched her, a soft moan escaping her throat. “What do you want, Esme?” I whispered in her ear.

“To forget.” The words came out strangled and desperate.

She broke me right then and there. The man I was before I met Esme was gone. Leo Hancock, master of sex, giver of pleasure, friend to all, was gone.

A memory.

A man I’d never be again.

Thank you for reading episode 16 of Reckless Kiss! New episodes will release in my newsletter every Tuesday. If you enjoy this story please check out my free book Tease. It has a very similar style, level of heat, and types of characters and I think you'll really enjoy it.

Some characters from my previous books will be appearing in this serial. If you haven't already, check out When Lighting Strikes, to read Marie Bancroft Hamilton's story, Summer Heat, Night Games, and Last Fall to meet more of the Bancroft Sports gang. (But you absolutely do not need to in order to enjoy Reckless Kiss. This book is 100% it's own story!)

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