by Diane Saxon
A desperate whimper escaped her lips.
“It’s okay, don’t worry.”
She glanced over her shoulder as he kneeled down behind her. Dear God, she might detonate anyway; her molecules almost shook her apart.
“No need to panic, Ginny.” His wicked chuckle tripped her pulse. “I’m not getting fresh.”
Another squeal erupted from her as he slid his hand from the bottom of her skirt, up the inside. The back of his large, warm hand grazed the top of her thighs and turned them to water.
She slapped both hands, one on top of the other, over her mouth to stop the deep groan of pleasure escaping. She could hear the rampant sluts in her head squealing with unadulterated lust.
“Keep still. I think I have it.”
The weight of his hand resting against her backside had her repressing a moan of desperation that twanged throughout her brain. Heat, direct from his contact, shot through her system, firing up all her hormones. Did he have any idea what effect he had on her?
A small jerk and the zipper released, sliding all the way down. He let go, and the skirt slithered over her hips to pool on the floor at her feet, leaving her naked legs exposed to his view.
“Oh, hell.” His deep grumble froze her to the spot. She knew the only thing covering her panties was the dip of her silk shirt. Ginny swallowed. She couldn’t think of a single thing to say, so she held still and waited for him to make the next move.
The warm clasp of his hands on either side of her hips held her in place as he slid the material of her shirt upward with a smooth stroke of his thumbs. “Pink.” The warm puff of his breath whispered over the tender flesh of her backside, barely covered by her skimpy thong.
Picturing the florid heat throbbing from her skin, she felt the need to apologize. “You’re making me blush.”
His warm chuckle vibrated against the cheek of her butt. His lips skimmed a light kiss, and her knees almost buckled. “I meant your thong.”
“Oh.”
“But now you mention it…”
He touched his cool tongue to her heated flesh, and this time she couldn’t help it when her knees gave way and she sank to the floor. He slipped his hands up to her waist and caught her as she fell, turning her in his grasp so she faced him. Her legs sprawled over his as he lowered them both onto the rug so that she sat on his lap.
“Hey.” His warm smile melted her heart, and she knew it was too late. She was already halfway in love with the man, and she’d barely even kissed him.
His gaze flicked down, and his smile widened. “Are they matching?”
Confused, she tried to backtrack on their conversation and hesitated too long. His hand was already at the buttons of her blouse. He deftly sprang two open, exposing her cleavage to his avid regard.
She placed her hand on top of his to stop him unfastening any more. “Yes.”
His grin simply grew. “I don’t believe you. Let me see.”
He flipped open another button, his hands more than strong enough to disregard the puny pressure from hers. Not that she really wanted to stop him.
He raised his other hand and parted her blouse to expose her breasts covered by pretty pink satin, overlaid with lace. He lowered his head, and her breath caught, sharp and painful in her throat. She quivered with fear of the unknown and a desire to learn.
“Yeah, matching. Matching pink bra and panties, and complementary pink skin too.” He touched his warm lips to her trembling flesh while he placed the softest kiss in the crevice between her breasts, just above the sweet bow in the center of her bra.
She tipped her head back, closed her eyes, and hummed low in her throat. Sweet chiming bells, never mind the unknown, this was what she craved. The tender slide of his lips up her neck heated the core of her. He wrapped his arms around her, and every ounce of tension melted from her body. The sensation of his hand as he slid it under her hair set up a slow vibration in the base of her throat to echo through her mind like a wild cat’s purr. His fingers spread over the back of her scalp and persuaded her head up so she could meet his lips with her own. He flattened his other hand across the curve of her hip to mold her flesh and make her yearn for more.
The normally screaming voices in her brain seemed to sing in unison as though a conductor had been transplanted in her head to make a choir of them.
She lifted her hands from his broad shoulders and skimmed them up his neck to bring him closer. His lips cruised over hers in a gentle, teasing nip and peck, but she was greedy and desperately desired more. Everything. She wanted everything, and she wanted it right now. She grasped his silky hair in her fingers and tugged at him until there was no gap between them. She swiped her tongue along his sexy top lip, the one she felt compelled to nip, and then quickly dipped in when he opened his mouth, played her tongue against his to deepen the kiss. His long, impassioned groan vibrated through her body, making her aware of the press of her breasts against his broad chest.
She wanted to eat him. Devour him. One delicious bite at a time.
She squeezed open her eyes and pulled back to make sure there was no blood dripping from his face. Nothing. A squeak of surprise burst out as he flipped her onto her back on her rug and laid his body alongside hers.
He dipped down for another kiss, but she had to know. She pushed her fingers in between their mouths and placed them on his lips. “Do you have women’s voices screaming inside your head?”
The puff of air from his mouth made it feel like he’d kissed her fingers. “No, Ginny, I hear sweet singing.”
“Singing?”
“Yeah.” He placed a light kiss on her fingers, coaxing a smile from her.
“Not wailing?”
“Nope.” He moved his head, nibbled her fingertips, and then sucked her middle finger into his hot mouth, rubbing his tongue against the sensitive skin at the tip of her finger.
“Are you hungry?”
The light of impatience in his eyes flashed before he released her finger and gave a broad smile.
“Yeah. Starving. Gimme more.”
He lowered his head and traced his tongue along the lacy line of her bra, paused to suck her exposed flesh into his mouth, and made her writhe under him. Fire scorched over her skin, and she wondered if there was still a point at which she could flashback. She’d never tested it this far, never been so overwhelmed. Her heart had never pounded with such frantic irregularity.
He moved lower down, flipped the material of her bra to one side, and swooped in to take her nipple deep into his mouth and suckle while his tongue circled around doing indescribable things to her nerve endings. Molten heat shot through her to pour liquid flames into her loins. Her body bowed, searching, seeking, and when his fingers slid under the material of her thong, a desperate whimper slipped from her lips.
She gripped his shoulders, tilted her head back, and groaned, anticipating something. Nothing she had ever experienced, but she was about to. Beyond her own control, her hips lifted to meet his seeking fingers as the voices inside her head rose in harmonic unison.
“Oh. Dear. Heaven.”
The slide of his long fingers as he pushed them inside her had her body bucking uncontrollably. Her hips flexed and her buttocks raised from the floor. Tiny electric pulses raced from her womb to spread their fluttering wings to the very tips of her fingers and toes. Bright sunlight burst from behind her eyelids, and the voices surged to a crescendo, flooding her entire being to stretching point until her passion snapped, and she collapsed, exhausted and replete.
Deep, rapid pants heaved at her lungs. She chanced a look at the man still leaning over her. Opaque green eyes studied her intently, and a look of surprise glided over his handsome features. The slow slide of his fingers as he removed them from her had her catching her breath once more, unable to believe her body might crave satisfaction again.
She raised her hand to touch the edge of his crooked smile.
“How old are you?”
Poised halfway to his face, she w
ithdrew her hand and turned her head away.
His fingers grasped her chin, turned her to face him once more, but she closed her eyes to block out the accusation she knew would be there.
“Thirty-four.” She forced the soft whisper from between her lips.
“Thirty-four and never had an orgasm.”
Her eyes flew open. “I never said that.”
“It’s pretty fucking obvious.”
“Well, I’ve…you know.”
Amusement flooded his twinkling eyes. “You can’t even say masturbate, let alone do it.”
“I wasn’t going to say that.” At his derisive snort, the soft wash of repletion left her body to be replaced by a leap of adrenaline, and she clamped her mouth closed. She didn’t need to explain herself to him. She’d been going to say she’d had dreams of ecstasy, but she now knew he would only laugh.
A hot rush of humiliation poured over her, swiftly followed by a blast of annoyance. At her. At him. She’d rather have made him bleed. She shoved his hand from her chin and rolled out from under him, scrambling to her feet in an ungainly mess of arms and legs before his reaching hands could pull her back. It wasn’t her fault she fried men’s brains until they bled from their cavities. She’d have quite liked to be a sexual virago, but the opportunity had hardly presented itself. Apparently, her inexperience offended him. She didn’t think it had been so obvious, but evidently he could tell. The heat of her own mortification pulsed from her skin.
“There’s really no need for you to be so finicky.” She gave a superior sniff. “Maybe you should go now.”
She tugged her blouse into place, but was unable to fasten the buttons with her shaky fingers, so she pulled the material together and fisted one hand over her breasts to keep it closed. Shame washed over her, and she lowered her head, unable to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry I was such a disappointment. Perhaps you could let yourself out.”
With as much dignity as she could muster, she walked from her bedroom and down the hallway to the bathroom. Proud of her composure, she closed the door behind her and snicked the old key in the lock. Numb, she stared at the big white bathtub before she leaned over and turned on the faucets full blast to drown out the sound of the screaming, wailing frustration filling her head.
•●•
Goddammit. He didn’t know what to do. He paced the bedroom and then took off down the hallway to stand helpless outside her bathroom door, listening to the wild rush of water as she obviously filled the tub.
Even if he hammered on her door, she wasn’t likely to hear him. If she did, she’d undoubtedly ignore him.
He rubbed his hands over his face.
He hadn’t meant anything bad. He’d been stunned. Thirty-four and the woman had never had an orgasm. Never had sex. She’d hinted at it when she told him about the guy bleeding from the eyes, nose, and ears, but the impact of it didn’t hit him until her complete wild abandonment. Her untried tightness had clasped around his fingers. The sheer surprise on her face as her eyes had glazed over.
The beast in him stirred. “Mine,” it whispered in his soul. “Mine.”
She certainly was. More than he could ever have imagined. She’d never been with anyone, and the dragon roared with pride and arrogance. In his demand to get her back, the creature became churlish when Matt denied him and turned away from the bathroom door. The surly dragon boiled acid in his stomach and made his own passion throb in unfulfilled dissatisfaction.
Well, his inner dragon was going to have to find some great way to apologize to the half banshee, because not only had she just had the hottest goddamned orgasm in the world, but whether she understood it or not, she had bathed him in fire. Flames had licked over him as she came apart in his arms, almost driving him to his own sweet release.
He rubbed his hand over the spot where she’d burned his heart.
When he eventually mated with her, they were going to make pyrotechnics together. But right now, he guessed he was going to have to leave her to get over her post-orgasmic snit.
He glanced back at her apartment door as he clicked it shut behind him. If she ever got over her snit. Shit, she’d been angry. He’d never seen a woman flounce with quite so much superiority, and the magnificent choir in his head had screamed in fury, howling and spitting, making the dragon fear for his sensitive hearing. He grinned. But she hadn’t made his brain bleed.
Nope, her punishment had been to leave him unsatisfied. Heat still raged in his belly, giving him stomach cramps.
He paused at the bottom of the stairs, trying to decide whether to go back up again.
No. He needed to give her time.
He let himself out of the building, ensuring the door closed securely behind him this time. He turned around and almost knocked over a man passing by.
His automatic, “Sorry,” was met with narrow, myopic eyes. Before he could say more, the short man dashed off, disappearing around the corner as though he was being pursued by the devil himself.
With a heavy sigh, Matt turned in the opposite direction, trying not to look too much like a churlish teenager as he dragged his feet. He stopped. Sniffed. He thought he’d caught a sharp whiff of swampland, but when he tested the air, all he could smell was Ginny. She filled his senses. Her taste settled on the back of his tongue. His pulse slowed; his blood thickened. He needed to think of something else.
Chapter Five
“Fuck. Wolf, you nearly broke my shoulder. You fucking maniac.”
Matt glared past the visor into the surprised silver eyes of their quarterback and gave him a hard smack to the solar plexus. The guy never moved, never even had the decency to roll with it. Despite the padding, he should have felt the force of Matt’s punch, but the guy was an animal. Matt never even gained the satisfaction of a small puff of breath coming from Wolf’s helmet.
“You’re getting soft in your old age. And since when did you start to use the F-word?”
“Fuck. The word is fuck, and I’ve always used it. You’re mistaking me for Daniel.” He turned to walk away, but the younger man pursued him across the field.
Matt tried to wrench his helmet off, but it had been fitted too tight, and the effort was all too much. With a snort of disgust, he gave up and lengthened his stride toward the sidelines, trying to shake off his stalker.
“Woman trouble?”
“Nope.”
“Yeah, I bet. The curvy one you were with the other night? Looks hot as hell.”
Matt stopped dead in his tracks, and the younger guy plowed into his back. He might not be as tall as Matt, but his solid form almost bowled him over. A feral growl came from Wolf’s drawn-back lips as Matt whirled on him, grabbed him by the shirt, and hauled him up close. “Mine.” He allowed his inner dragon to snarl past the man, at the gray wolf within the helmet.
“Shit, Matt. Chill, man. I was only yanking your chain.”
“Stay. Away. She’s mine.”
“I heard. I heard you the first time.”
Matt glanced at his hand. His fingers had elongated into claws, and small green scales formed on the back of them.
“Get a hold of yourself, Matt.” Wolf lowered his voice to a whisper. His silver eyes gave off an ethereal glow from behind his visor; his fangs glimmered bright white. Matt’s fury left him in a rush.
“You too.” Matt slammed his hand in a faux-friendly pat on Wolf’s helmet, almost pounding the guy into the ground.
“Is there a problem?”
Calmer, Matt turned to face Daniel. There was something about his agent’s demeanor that spoke of more than the mild façade he exposed. The guy should have been a quarterback himself. His suit did little to disguise the width of his shoulders, the breadth of his chest.
“No problem, Daniel.” Matt turned, smashed the side of his fist against the top of Wolf’s helmet again, and thrilled at making the shorter guy’s knees unexpectedly give. He almost laughed behind his grille, but as it might ratchet the whole incident up a notch, he thought better of it.
“We’re okay, aren’t we, bud?”
“Sure thing, dude.” The uppercut caught him under the ribs, shooting the breath out of his lungs so Matt almost blew Daniel over with the volley of fire from his lips.
Wolf howled in appreciation as he pounded Matt’s back with his fist. Daniel looked decidedly unimpressed.
“If you kids have finished, I could do with a word, Matt.” The dry tone of his agent’s voice convinced Matt their fun was over. He rubbed his chest and felt the ache there. At least Wolf had distracted him for a short time.
Matt removed his helmet, finding it surprisingly easy when he wasn’t trying to wrench it off his head. He rubbed his hand through his sweat-soaked hair and scratched at his scalp. It had been a good practice, despite the near fistfight he’d gotten into—or maybe because of it.
A flash of white caught his attention as Daniel strode off in the opposite direction toward the sidelines. Strange. Matt leaned over, scooped up the large white feather, and pondered what the hell kind of bird had feathers that big. White. Pure white.
He glanced ahead at his agent and broke into a trot to catch up, slipping the feather under his shirt to tuck it into the waistline of his shorts. The banshee might like it. Girls liked shit like that.
Daniel walked by his side, silent and calm, and when they reached the bench, he handed him a bottle of water as they both sat. Without stopping for breath, Matt downed the entire contents and then wiped the back of his hand over his mouth while he waited for Daniel to tell him why he was there.
“I came to remind you about the event you have tonight.”
His mind went blank. What damned event? He’d planned on stalking the curvaceous one. He heaved a sigh and gave Daniel a disgusted look. Daniel flexed his jaw in an obvious attempt not to grind his teeth.
“It’s been on your calendar for three months. You can’t miss this one; it’s a big charity event.”
Goddammit, he hated charity events. Some slick woman married to a billionaire would demand money from middle-class people, when, if she donated the fucking bracelet on her wrist she’d bought to wear to the event, it would save a third-world country.
