No Flowers Required

by Cari Quinn

  He drew back to regard her with curiosity. “You have one?”

  “Mm-hmm.” Playing coy, she lowered her lashes. “I do.”

  “Hmm.” He slipped his hand under her cotton top, his palm resting lightly on the small of her back. “I bet it’s right here,” he added, tracing the line of her spine.

  She shivered from his feather-light touch. “Nope.”

  “No?” He toyed with the shoulder strap of her cami, his eyes dark in the light from the TV. Utterly focused on her. “Let me see.”

  “If you insist.” She fumbled for the remote and turned off the TV before straddling his waist. On the verge of pulling her top over her head, she startled when he laid his hand on her belly.

  “Hang on. Let me up.”

  She sat back on her haunches and watched him unfold that long, sexy frame in one slow motion. He flicked on her newly purchased box fan—though the AC seemed to be working better now, she still got hot at night—then yanked on the sill of one of the windows. “It’s fucking hot in here,” he muttered, grunting as he lifted it.

  A draft of humid, rain-laden air wafted over her and she shivered again at the tightening in her nipples. Though it wasn’t just the breeze that made them wake right up. Those broad shoulders, silhouetted in moonlight, had a lot to do with it too.

  He moved to the other window and shouldered that one open as well, finally returning to her while the faint bluesy notes of a saxophone bled into the room.

  “Jazz club on the corner,” he said, correctly reading her questioning expression. “Well, it’s just a bar normally, but they have weekly jazz nights.”

  “Oh. I like it.” She cocked her head as he stopped beside the couch and flicked on the small Tiffany lamp. “The sax is sexy.”

  “So’s light, and seeing all of you.”

  She didn’t respond, since he’d reached back to tug his T-shirt over his head. Hot damn, he had the kind of abdomen a sculptor could spend a lifetime trying to get just right. The contours of muscle and bone, the dusting of hair that arrowed into a happy trail down his stomach, the small black outline of a skull-and-crossbones just above his left hip.

  “Nice tat,” she said, with an incline of her chin. “For a pirate.”

  A smile lurked around his lips. Combined with that faint cleft in his chin, she was in big trouble. “Hey, at sixteen, I thought it was badass.” He flicked the button on his jeans and her amusement fled.

  She wanted him naked. On her. In her. Filling her up.

  In no time, he’d removed his boots, socks, and jeans. She examined him openly, not shy about noting details while she gripped the cushions beside her thighs. His lean, cut hips drew her attention the longest, until she sucked in a breath and veered lower to his navy boxer briefs and the colorful snake tattoo peeking out under the band around his left thigh.

  The laugh spilled out of her, though she cupped a hand over her mouth to try to hold it in. “Very…colorful.”

  “Thanks. My friend Jerry owns a shop, and I was his test subject. The wings on my arm were first. The skull next. After he did the snake, I said enough was enough. Last thing he did was pierce my eyebrow.”

  He hooked his thumbs in his boxers and dragged them down his muscular legs. Then she wasn’t looking at his tattoos anymore, but somewhere decidedly more personal. His cock was firm and full and crowned with a dab of wetness she yearned to taste.

  With the fan streaming warm air over her back and the subtle notes of the saxophone drifting through the window, the whole moment felt surreal. Any time now she’d wake up alone on her air mattress with her hand caught between her legs, the victim of yet another cruel wet dream. She’d had way too many this week. And now he was here in the flesh, and she couldn’t seem to drag enough air into her lungs to compensate for the way he made her ache.

  The sticky summer air had already added a fine mist of perspiration on her skin. She rubbed her hand down her throat. “Very hot.”

  He grazed her jaw with his fingertips. “I have to agree,” he said, his stare lingering on her face before traveling determinedly downward, causing a swell of sensation between her legs. She was throbbing for him already.

  “I meant you. The piercing especially.” She rose onto her knees to caress the copper ring, then let her hand wander up to his scalp. His short-short hair made her palm tingle and she whimpered when he nibbled her inner arm. Tenderly. His warm, wet lips on her skin prodded her to the flashpoint in an instant, and an answering surge of arousal dampened her inner thighs.

  “I want to see yours.”

  “My piercing?” Playfully she unclipped her hair. “On my earlobes?”

  “Do you have any others?”

  “Like where? Navel? Nipples?” His eyes slitted and she tilted her head. “Clit maybe?”

  “You don’t have any of those,” he gritted out.

  “No. But never say never.”

  “Right now I’ll settle for these beautiful earlobes.” He manipulated the diamond stud she wore, somehow nudging her closer to the edge with just the brush of his callused fingertip. “I intend to suck on them for a while. Before I suck on the rest of you.”

  His smoky, provocative voice rose above the music filling her head. The beat had changed into something more sexual and primitive. Its bass line pounded inside her, pulling her into a subtle sway she didn’t fight.

  Her fingers itched to wander over his body, to explore every nook and cranny. “I like your body.” Boldly, she lifted her eyes to his. “I want you.”

  “Almost as much as I want you.” He spread her arms to her sides and drew her up until they were standing together, her fully clothed, him fully undressed. She was still moving to the music, letting the rhythm carry her, and he soon picked it up, his hips subtly rocking into hers. Slowly. The ache in her center spread, tendrils of lust creeping outward until her body quaked.

  “I love that you dance so easily. You did on the roof too. Just shimmied a little, enough to make me crazy.”

  “I have music in my soul.” Though she’d said it to make him grin, she didn’t check to see if he did. She had a whole new preoccupation and it was way below his face.

  She looked down at the swollen length trapped between them and wetted her lips. He must’ve read the intention in her gaze because he chuckled and possessively palmed her ass in her clingy boy shorts, keeping her upright when she would’ve gone to her knees.

  “Your tattoo,” he said against her temple. “Give me a hint.”

  She turned to face away from him, wanting to prolong their teasing as long as possible. The long, anticipatory slide into sex was her favorite part. The other night they’d gone at each other like animals, but tonight was different. From the sax music, to their languorous movements, to the longing that flowed like honey between them, this was all about easing into seduction. And savoring every second.

  “Any guesses where it might be?” she asked huskily.

  He linked his arms around her waist and nuzzled her hair, his cock leaving a solid imprint on her ass. “Your shoulder blade?”

  “Try again.”

  His mouth settled on the back of her neck and he branded her skin with blazing hot kisses. “Your hip?” His hand trailed a path from one hip bone to the other, making a lengthy pit stop on her mound in between. Taunting her with the placement of his fingers. So close, but so far. He rocked into her again, picking up the thread of the new song that reverberated through the floorboards. “Your ass?”

  She laughed. “No.”

  “Your thigh? Your stomach? God, your inner arm?” He touched every part of her as he named it, his growing impatience—and growing erection—making her want to giggle. And squirm.

  “No, no, and no.”

  “Seriously?” All playfulness gone, he whirled her around in his hold and stared at her as if she had to be lying. “What the hell size is this thing? A postage stamp?” Then he grinned triumphantly and reached for her hair. “I know. The back of your neck.“

  �
�Nope.” She took pity on him and stepped back to draw her cami over her head. She tossed it aside and let her arms fall, more than a little dazed herself by the look of awe that crossed his features. “It’s a forget-me-not. The color’s a little off. Mine’s a bit more purple than the actual flowers. Normally they’re a medium blue.”

  “Oh Christ.” With reverent fingers he sketched the tattoo along the curve of her breast. “Damn.”

  She had to laugh. “Are you okay?”

  “You’ve been hiding this under your clothes, and I had no idea.” The rawness of his voice coupled with the overwhelming desire in his dark blue eyes set off a wicked pulse in her core. “It was too dark for me to see anything the other night, and the color is so light… I thought it was something tiny, in some discreet, usual place.”

  “No.”

  “Fuck, Alexa.” Then his mouth was on her, his teeth pulling on the nipple while she cried out and cupped his head in hands that shook. He drew harder and she watched him, unable to tear her focus away. The bite of pain sent a bolt of excitement through her, and she gasped at the heat coursing through her lower belly. He licked his way around the tattoo, his eyes flicking up to hers as he lapped at the petals that encircled the hardened peak. “You taste so good. I want more. You gonna give it to me?”

  She barely had time to comprehend what he was saying before he lifted her up as if she were as light as one of her ornamental trees and set her down on the wide arm of the couch. He tugged off her shorts and threw them aside, driving one hand up the center of her torso to hold her still while he brought his lips down between her legs.

  “Dillon!” Her cry stunned her, because she couldn’t have stopped the sound if she tried. He didn’t give her a chance to catch up to his intentions, just left her clinging to her buttery leather sofa with one hand and his prickly scalp with the other. She fumbled to hold on as he slanted his mouth over her and gave her the most erotic French kiss of her life. “Don’t stop.”

  He didn’t answer, and apparently he didn’t need to breathe either. He just latched onto her sex and used his tongue to drive her out of her mind, sweeping up and down as quick as a brushfire. Never landing anywhere long enough to truly make her burn, just igniting a million little sparks along the way. She arched against him, her need spiraling higher with each swipe. And then he circled in on her clit, sucking hard, and she raked her nails down the back of his neck in warning.

  It was too soon, too fast. She wanted to take that ride with him. But he just kept on, laving her tight knot of nerves with short, focused strokes that increased the throb in her blood. The music built, the sax somehow getting louder, the floorboards beneath her tensed feet seeming to pound with its sexual thrum.

  And she built too, until he slipped two thick fingers into her and she crested, coming up off the sofa with her cries spilling from her throat. She could only see him kneeling between her thighs, one hand on his cock, stroking, while he extended her pleasure until it straddled the edge of pain.

  When he finally stood, she couldn’t speak. She just watched him don a condom through hazed eyes, her hands idly cupping her swollen breasts. Adding more fuel to the aftershocks still spiraling through her system.

  He noted the gesture with a growl as he bent to run the tip of his tongue down her throat, pulling a gasp from her as he nudged aside one of her hands and reclaimed her nipple as if it belonged to him. Right then she would’ve given him anything before he even asked.

  He lifted her thigh, notching it on his hip and moving between her legs. “I like you like this. So soft and warm.” She might’ve swooned had she not been partially reclining already. He rested his hand on her mound and toyed with her sensitive clit with his thumb. “And wet. You’re so wet for me, aren’t you?”

  Once again he didn’t give her time to answer before holding her leg wide and feeding his cock into her entrance. His girth stretched her sodden flesh, arousing her nerve endings all over again with his patient thrusts. He took his time sinking deep, then held her there, rocking his hips without moving his length so that she felt as if he’d completely opened her to him.

  Spread wide like that she should’ve felt vulnerable, especially under his molten stare. Instead confidence and yearning sizzled through her system, urging her to again cup her breasts and pinch her eager nipples. He groaned and powered into her harder, the link of their gazes so strong she felt steeped in him. In and out.

  Nothing else mattered but them, plastered together in the sultry night. With the jazz music swelling around them, and the breeze caressing their sweat-covered bodies with rain-scented, humid air.

  She scooted closer and angled so that she could drop her head on the back of the couch, moaning when he drew her legs straight up and pulled them tightly together. Her toes flexed in the air as her needy sex clutched at him, her hips rolling up into driving strokes. He held her ankles in his hands, using them as fulcrums to bear down with more force, to slide through her slick walls and kindle the embers of her earlier orgasm.

  Since she couldn’t get her hands on him anymore, she dragged her nails over the leather cushions, not caring if she damaged them. Not caring if her moans seeped into the alley below her window. At that moment, anyone could hear. Hell, she wanted them to.

  “You’re going to come.”

  His voice invaded her mind, reaching her where she’d become a mindless mass of pleasure. She whipped her head back and forth, bumping it on the hard frame of the couch. Thank God for its wide padded arms, though she doubted she would’ve felt it if he’d been fucking her on a bed of nails. Her entire consciousness had centered on his plunges, each one dragging her further away from that safe place where she’d been before she met him. Now she was crazed and hungry, desperate for him to fill her up with his thick shaft. Wild for him to lay her bare and take what he needed, as long as he gave her back as good as he got in return.

  Again and again he hit that spot inside her, the one that made her legs jerk and tremble in his grip, and she whimpered when he sank in deep and his balls slapped her ass. After that she didn’t hear anything but her own endless moans, erupting from her lips while she bowed up to meet his downward slides. He pulled her legs up high, embedding himself to the root inside her, and she screamed, her sheath spasming so hard with her climax that he shouted an oath and followed her.

  He released her ankles and slumped over, propping one hand on the cushion beside her head. The other caressed her breast. “It’s that damn tattoo,” he said, making her laugh. “I’m not responsible for my actions.”

  Lazily, she trailed a hand up his spine. When had she last felt so damn amazing? Oh yeah, the other night, when they’d been together on the roof. “So can we be irresponsible again soon?” She shifted to alleviate the twinge in her back from the awkward position crumpled against the sofa. Still worth it. “Please?”

  His laughter saturated her senses, as thick and sweet as the afterglow shimmering over her damp skin. “Count on it, princess,” he murmured, and she smiled into the darkness.

  Sometimes being a princess wasn’t so bad.

  Chapter Seven

  Alexa woke wrapped around Dillon, with their lips locked and his hand tangled in her hair.

  His kisses were as slow and easy as the morning, and stirred her arousal effortlessly. He had the softest mouth and boy, did he know how to use it. Each time his tongue coiled around hers, pulling gently, she felt the answering beat between her legs. Already restless, she arched against him, well aware that his morning wood had grown. Now it was closer to the trunk of a magnolia tree, if she were inclined to be fanciful.

  And when Dillon’s mouth was making slow, masterful love to hers, she sure was.

  “Mmm.” Dizzy with longing, she rubbed against him. “Love morning magnolias.”

  He laughed and moved back, peering at her with narrowed eyes. “Did you just call me magnolia?”

  “Did I?” In her current state, anything was possible. She flashed him a coy smile in the hopes
of distracting him. “Maybe. I’m feeling awfully affectionate.”

  “Are you now?” He drew a fingertip along her jaw and down her throat, stopping at her racing pulse. “You look freshly sexed,” he added, licking his lips in a way that triggered a whole new throb in her body. “Hair loose and messy, eyes sleepy.” His finger resumed its journey, pausing at one of her tight nipples. Circling there. In the night, she’d donned her sleep clothes, but it didn’t matter, because she felt naked all over again. “You’re not one of those eager-beaver morning types, are you?”

  She tossed her hair back out of her eyes and linked her hands behind his head. “Afraid so. I’m really eager right now.”

  “Is that so?” His hand crept under her cami, brushing the soft skin of her belly before sliding upward to tease the bottom of her breast. Another inch and he’d be stroking the taut tip without any clothing in the way. Oh yes please. “Eager enough to miss breakfast in favor of sex?”

  Miss breakfast? She’d miss breakfast, lunch, and dinner if she got to stay curled around Dillon. Then she glimpsed the time on her bangle watch.

  “Holy shit!” She leaped off him without warning, throwing an accidental elbow into his gut as she struggled to right herself. “Is it really almost eight-thirty?”

  He tucked his arms behind his head and smiled. “Guess so.”

  “I need to get to work. The store opens at nine and there’s a ton of stuff to do before then.”

  Most of the guys she knew would’ve made some crack about the boss being allowed to be late, but he only nodded and pulled himself to his feet. “I’ll walk you over.”

  “It’s only downstairs.”

  “We’ll stop by the bakery first.” His tone brooked no argument.

  She yanked down her cami and compressed her lips. She should tell him no. Maybe even start extricating herself from this burgeoning so not a one-night stand before things got messy.

  Then he folded her fingers into his callused palm and tugged her up for another kiss and she forgot all about suggesting they go their separate ways.