by Lori Foster
Everything about her was sweet. Sweet and sexy. “Yeah. So don’t let Carmen go wild on you, okay? You don’t need to change.”
Her rebellious look had him worried. “It could be fun to spice up my image some. As Carmen said, it’s long past due. And it could go hand in hand with my plans for enjoying life a bit more—”
Groaning, Clint closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.
Instantly concerned, Julie leaned toward him. “Clint? Would you like some aspirin?”
“I’d like you to promise me that you…” The words stuck in his throat.
At his hesitation, Julie tipped her head. “What is it?”
Damn it, if he said it, there’d be no going back. Did he even want to go back? Not really.
Julie pushed out of her seat and, still favoring her ankle, came to him. “Clint?”
He’d done enough fighting for one day. Tossing the frozen bag of peas aside, Clint scooted back his chair and stood to tower over Julie. She was so petite, but with so much grit and twice as much heart. He cupped her face. “Promise me you won’t change.” He bent, put his mouth to hers in a gentle, undemanding kiss. “Don’t let Carmen make you into someone you’re not, because who you are is pretty damn special.”
Julie’s gaze softened. Her lips parted. And she whispered, “Whatever you say, Clint.”
Julie reveled in the way Clint kissed her now. She could tell the difference; this was a kiss meant to seduce, a kiss of foreplay, a prelude to making love.
And it was wonderful.
When Clint kissed her throat, she summoned enough sense to ask, “Your head is okay?”
“Better by the second.” His lips moved to her ear, and his breath teased her seconds before his tongue touched her lobe, then licked inside.
Breath catching, stomach flipping, Julie moaned. “My goodness.” Who knew ears were so erogenous?
She laced her fingers in his dark hair and held him closer. His hand crept down her back and onto her bottom.
He lifted her to her tiptoes. “Tell me if I hurt you.”
She knew he never would. She opened her hands on his chest, enjoying his heat, the thundering of his heartbeat, the solid feel of bunched muscles. Clint was so physically strong, but it was his strength of character that really drew her. He cared about people, even ragtag kids and a drug-using hooker.
While he ravaged her neck and throat and shoulders, Julie felt him everywhere she could reach, over his back, down the deep furrow of his spine, around to his rigid abdomen.
Clint stilled in suspended anticipation.
Against her belly, Julie could feel the solid rise of his erection caught beneath his faded, worn jeans. Curiosity got the better of her, and she cupped her hand over him.
A rough, rumbling groan erupted from deep in Clint’s throat. He caught her hand—and pressed it tighter to him. “Hell, yeah.” Near her ear, he rasped, “You are so full of surprises, aren’t you, baby?”
Julie wasn’t quite sure what he meant by that. She was breathless with excitement and very much enjoyed exploring his body. “I suppose curiosity is a side effect of being an educator.”
That made him laugh, until she squeezed him through his jeans. He was so big, so thick. She trailed her fingers up and down his length, measuring him, marveling at the power of him.
“Keep that up, and I won’t be able to control myself.”
“Really?” Julie looked up at him—and was struck by the savage heat in his gaze. “You have the most remarkable eyes.”
He choked. “Eyes, huh? Forget my eyes.” And he closed them while issuing a small groan and pressing himself tighter into her hand.
Julie wrapped her fingers around him as much as she could—and stroked. “Clint?” His eyes opened, leaving her caught once again in their depths. “Will you promise me something?”
Going very still, Clint assessed her. Julie saw the cynicism he didn’t bother to hide, the way he curled his lip. “Still worrying about me hurting poor Robert?”
“What?” That was so far away from what she’d been thinking, she drew a complete blank.
Clint caught her wrist. “You figured now was the best time to exact a promise from me?”
“Well, yes. But it has nothing to do with Robert.”
“Uh huh. So what, then?”
She used her other hand to cup his testicles and leaned her breasts into his chest. “Promise me you won’t stop, and that you won’t regret having sex with me.”
His eyes flared.
“Please? It’s important to me.”
“Ah, shit.” Clint pulled away from her, but scooped her up into his arms.
“Your head!”
“Isn’t helping me out much right now. Let’s go to bed, babe. I want you naked.”
“Oh.” Julie wrapped her arms around his neck.
“You’ll get naked, too?”
As he started out of the kitchen, he pressed a kiss to her forehead. “It usually works better that way.”
His apartment was miniscule, only the front room, the kitchen, a small bath that they passed in the hall, and one bedroom. It didn’t take Clint too many steps before they were standing next to his bed.
Julie looked around, absorbing the sight of the male domain. His bed was full sized, but without a headboard or footboard. One painted dresser and a mismatched nightstand were the only other pieces of furniture in the room. On his nightstand sat a clock and a phone. The room was tidy, not a single piece of clothing out of place, but not decorated at all.
Plain beige curtains hung at the one window, and there were only blankets on the bed, no bedspread.
“Not exactly what you’re used to, is it?”
Julie realized Clint had been watching her. She stroked his cheek. “There’s a bed, and you’re here. That’s all I care about.”
That got her a brief, tight hug, and a muttered, “You are such a sweet-talker.”
She smiled. It was easy to be sweet when Clint held her. But now she wanted more than sweet. She wanted hot and gritty and slow and deep. She wanted Clint, all of him. “If you put me down, I can take this dress off.”
For two seconds longer, he kept his face tucked into her throat, and his arms contracted a bit, squeezing her. Then slowly, carefully, he let her slide down the length of his body. Julie felt the thick ridge of his erection and deliberately pressed her belly flush to him as her feet touched the floor.
Clint’s hands held her waist. “You’re not shy, are you?”
She tipped her head back, smiling up at him. They’d done so little, but still sexual excitement gripped her. It seemed a look from Clint could do more to arouse her than a hundred touches normally would have. “I’m not a virgin, but I’m hardly a seasoned veteran of intimacy either. The thing is, we can’t proceed until we’re naked.”
“Yeah, we can.” He brought his hands up to hold her face. “Keeping some clothes on will help us go slow. And we’re definitely going slow, so I can savor this.” And then his mouth took hers in a long, leisurely kiss. His tongue explored, his lips moved on hers, and he even used his teeth, nipping her bottom lip and giving her a thrill.
“Kissing is good,” Julie said breathlessly when he moved to her throat. At the same time she began pulling his white T-shirt from his jeans. She’d seen his chest, touched him and felt his heat, his heartbeat, but that was before she had leave to explore him as she wanted to. Now was her chance.
“Hold on.” Clint stepped back and in one smooth movement stripped off his shirt. He tossed it aside, stepped back to her, and crushed her to him. His mouth covered hers again and his hands went to her bottom, stroking, caressing.
He lifted her up and moved her against him, pelvis to pelvis so that his erection rubbed along her cleft, almost like sex, but not quite.
Julie tangled her hands in his chest hair and moaned. It was incredible, definitely not what she was accustomed to, but she felt herself climbing toward a climax.
Then Clint altered the movement,
and she moaned again, this time in disappointment.
“Clint…”
“Shh.” One of his big, rough hands covered her breast. “Let me play with you a little. God knows I haven’t thought about much else the last couple of days.”
“Play with—mmm.” His thumb circled her nipple, rubbing back and forth, teasing. She wanted her dress off, now, so that he could touch her bare flesh.
Sinking her fingertips into his rock-hard shoulders and putting her mouth to his collarbone, she tried to muffle her heavy breaths. “I…I want you to touch me, Clint. Not through my dress.”
“I will. In time.” He kissed her forehead.
“Relax.”
Relax? He had to be joking. “Are you out of your—”
Taking her by surprise, he scooped her up and placed her on the mattress, then came down beside her. “You like being bossy, Julie Rose, but not here. Not in my bed.”
“You’re just teasing me, though,” she complained.
He grinned, and it made him look younger and very roguish. That special look, one she hadn’t seen before, all but melted Julie’s heart.
“Trust me, baby. You’ll like the way I tease. Now, just hush and hold still and let me have some fun. You think you can do that?”
Quite honestly, Julie said, “I don’t know.”
Everything she’d learned about men, what she’d experienced herself and what she’d read in books and seen in movies, told her men were impatient for sex. They wanted it fast and hard. Clint was definitely turned on—she could see the proof of that in his steel erection, in the brightness of his hypnotic eyes, the darker color on his cheekbones, the deepness of his breath.
But at the moment, he seemed content to rest his hand on her belly and stare at her stiffened nipples, visible beneath the bodice of her sundress.
“I’ll help you, then.” And he caught her hands, raising them above her head. Loosely chaining them there with one big fist, he kept her still. Then, with another killer smile, he slid his other hand up under her dress.
Julie pressed her head back on the mattress and closed her eyes…until she felt his fingers between her legs. Her whole body bowed.
“You’re hot, Julie Rose. And already wet.”
His fingertips traced up and down the crotch of her panties, too light to give her what she needed, but enough to add to her urgency. Determined to do as Clint wanted, she swallowed her complaints. Disappointing him wasn’t an option.
Unless he took too long getting on with it.
“I’m going to kiss your nipples.”
Never in her life had she heard a man talk so much during sex. But she didn’t complain, not when his mouth closed around her left nipple, hot and damp and gently pulling. The dual assault almost did it. If only he’d press his fingers more firmly against her. If only he’d lower the dress so she could better feel his tongue.
He moved to her other nipple, and when Julie strained against him, he firmed his hold on her wrists, reminding her that he was in control.
She parted her legs and dug her heels into the mattress, lifting into his fingers. It didn’t do her any good. He adjusted to her every move, keeping the pressure light, making her sexual need climb until she didn’t think she could bear it.
“Clint.”
“Let’s get rid of the panties.” One-handed, he stripped them down her thighs, but left them at her knees. He pressed his palm to her mound and touched his mouth to hers. “How do you feel?”
Seeing him through a haze, Julie licked her lips and swallowed. “Like…like I’d hit you with that stick if it was handy right now.”
“Yeah?” He grinned. “Does this help?” His finger moved over her, parted her swollen lips, and sank inside.
“Oh, God.” She caught her breath. “Maybe. I don’t know.”
“How about this?” He began gliding that finger in and out, not deep, but shallow and slow.
Julie twisted. Her muscles squeezed around him. In a voice so faint, she barely heard herself, she pleaded, “Harder please?”
He watched her intently. “Like this?”
She was close, so blasted close. “I need…I don’t know.”
“But I do.” He brought his hand out from under her dress, then released her wrists just long enough to pull her dress down to her waist. He scrutinized her, his gaze burning, his nostrils flared. “Christ, you’re sexy.”
With the opportunity there, Julie grabbed his head and pulled it back to her aching nipples. Clint obliged her, taking her in his mouth, wet and hot, and sucking strongly so that she cried out.
“I like hearing you, Julie Rose.” He moved to the other nipple, licked, nipped with his teeth, then tugged.
Her back arched, and he tugged again, more insistently, filling her with a heated rush of sensation.
Still at her breast, he inched her dress up, higher and higher. Julie had one moment of uncertainty, wondering at how she looked with the flowery material balled up at her waist, her panties twisted around her knees. And then Clint’s fingers were there again, two of them pressing inside her, deep, firm, and she didn’t care how it looked. She needed a climax, more than she needed her next breath.
“Oh, please,” she whispered, her eyes squeezed shut, her knees spread open.
“All right.” His thumb came into play, moving slowly, rhythmically over her distended clitoris, and less than a minute later Julie felt herself convulsing.
Her thighs clenched, her belly tightened, her breasts throbbed. She seemed to have no control over her body, how she moved and the low guttural cries that were forced from her lungs. It went on and on, and Clint was relentless, tasting her, stroking her, keeping her at the peak longer than Julie had known was possible.
She couldn’t say for sure when it ended, but at some point she became aware of Clint over her, balanced on one elbow, watching her with an expression that was both tender and hot.
His fingers were still pressed inside her. Her nipples were wet and sensitive to the air-conditioning.
“Oh, God.” Cautiously, she opened her eyes.
As if he’d been waiting for just that sign of life, Clint bent to her lips, indulging in long, soft, deep kisses, eating at her mouth with hunger and gentleness combined.
Julie was too limp to do more than accept his attention. She gave a quiet moan of pleasure and tipped her head for a better fit. She loved Clint’s kisses.
In another form of torture, he dragged his fingers from her swollen sex. Out of her, up and over her still-quivering clitoris. Julie caught her breath.
Their eyes met. Clint held her gaze as he lifted his hand and put his fingers in his mouth. His eyes half closed, and he gave a low growl as he tasted her.
Julie had never seen such a thing. Equally fascinated and aroused by the gesture, her lips parted, and heat flushed her face.
Without a word, Clint sat up and wrested the wrinkled dress from her body. “Lift up.” Julie raised her hips, and Clint removed her twisted panties.
Struggling for coherent thought, Julie said, “I’m naked, and you’re not.”
Clint didn’t reply. He put his hands, fingers spread, on her shoulders and began feeling her all over. Down her arms, lingering over her breasts, skimming her waist as if measuring her, across her hipbones, her pelvic bones. When he reached her knees, he pushed them up, then open, leaving her legs sprawled wide.
To help fight off her embarrassment, Julie turned her head to the side and closed her eyes. She was very aware of Clint’s fingers clenching on her inner thighs, almost as though he fought himself.
In the next instant she felt his breath, then his tongue, against her sex.
Her eyes popped open, and she lifted her head to see him. She couldn’t close her legs, not that she really wanted to, because Clint’s broad shoulders were in the way. “Oh, my.”
“Hush.” He showed no hesitation or uncertainty as he ate at her, his tongue stabbing deep, his face pressed into her.
Swept away on another r
ush of lust, Julie dropped back to the mattress and stared up at the ceiling in wonder. She’d read about this, but never experienced it. And my, had she been missing out. The pleasure of his mouth and tongue were almost too acute to bear.
She knotted her hands in the rumpled sheets and tried to stay still. Impossible. Her hips lifted, twisting against him, moving with the rhythm of his tongue. He shifted position, and she felt his fingers squeezing into her again, filling her up, gently moving, and it was too much.
His rough tongue teased and stroked her clitoris, then began suckling, pushing her higher and higher, and before Julie could get her bearings she was coming again, screaming out loud this time, all but mindless in her orgasm.
The second she quieted, Clint left her in a rush. “Don’t move.”
As if she could? She might not ever be able to move again. As it was, she couldn’t get enough breath, and her legs and arms were tingling, little aftershocks of pleasure still snapping inside her.
Vaguely she heard a drawer open and some rustling, and Clint was there between her thighs, lifting her hips in his hands and pushing into her.
Julie’s first thought was that he’d never fit. There was no pain, just an incredible amount of pressure. His muscles strained; her already shattered nerve endings twitched and convulsed around him.
He growled, a low, grinding sound of pleasure, then whispered, “Relax for me, baby,” and he pressed harder.
Julie gripped his shoulders. “I’m trying.”
“Good girl.”
She felt the head of his penis penetrate, and caught and held her breath.
“Easy now…” And with one long, steady push, he began burying himself inside her.
She didn’t mean to, but Julie automatically fought his control. She had been with men, but none as large as Clint—in more ways than one. Discomfort built, and she wasn’t at all sure she could accommodate him. She flattened her hands on his chest, but it was like trying to hold back the tide.
Staring into her eyes, his expression taut and determined, Clint continued to lean into her. “All of me, Julie Rose. All of—” He went still, his jaw clenched, his eyes squeezed shut.
Sweltering heat built inside her, exaggerated by the heat emanating from Clint. Julie panted for breath. Beneath her palms, his skin burned. And he looked so distressed, almost in pain.
