“Are you telling me, Robert,” Emily’s low murmur fell in the shadows between them, “that you’re healthy enough to endure the rest of the drive back to your place without me…relieving the pressure?”
Rob’s arse clenched at the innuendo behind her question. Pressure? Shit, his balls were under so much fucking pressure he felt certain they were about to rupture along with his swollen cock. He reached for the ignition, waking the Audi’s engine with a flick of his wrist even as an image of Emily’s lips sliding down his shaft flashed through his mind.
He gripped the steering wheel with both hands, ignoring the tormenting image with as much success as he ignored the aching throb in his groin. “That’s exactly what I’m saying, Doctor Knox,” he growled, throwing the car into gear and flattening the accelerator to the floor.
He negotiated the sparse two a.m. traffic with rising impatience, breaking the posted speed limit more than once, running more than one amber light. Emily sat silently beside him, the musky scent of her pleasure infusing every breath he took, making his already straining dick even harder and his attention to the road tenuous at best.
He hadn’t had sex since Colorado. He’d gone through medical hell and back and he had no fucking clue if he had the stamina, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to take it easy when he finally made love to her. Not after aching for her for so long. He didn’t allow himself to ponder what would happen after he buried himself between her legs. Raw, physical need dictated his actions now. His need for Emily. His need to possess her, claim her.
So is it just mindless fucking, Rob? Or is it something totally messed up like needing to say thank you for your life in the most elemental, primitively male way? Or is it something else. Something much much more?
He didn’t allow himself to think about that either. But his denial didn’t ease the aching urgency in his groin, nor make his dick any softer. By the time he directed his car into the underground car park of his townhouse complex, his head was swimming, his hands were trembling and his pulse was thumping so hard in his neck he was surprised the good doctor beside him didn’t whip out her stethoscope and declare him at risk of a heart attack.
But it is your heart being attacked, Rob, isn’t it? In a way you never suspected. Because when Emily crosses the threshold of your home, it’s not going to be as your doctor, and it’s sure as hell isn’t going to be as a one-night stand.
He pulled his car into his allotted bay and killed the engine, holding the wheel for a still moment as he counted to ten. Emily’s intoxicating scent threaded through his being and for a surreal, ridiculous second he wished to hell Joseph was with him. He knew who he was with Hudo. He knew where he was going and what he was doing. He was the flippant clown to his best mate’s serious success story. He was the daredevil prankster to Joe’s grounded grown-up.
But Joe’s not here, Thorton. Joe’s with his wife, starting his new life. And you’ve got yours stretching out in front of you. Starting with the woman who gave it to—
“Robert?”
Emily’s soft voice, uttering his name in a hesitant question made him jump. Shit, he was behaving like a nervous schoolboy. He was behaving like…
Like Joseph on the base of Knife Ridge Chutes the moment he came face to face with Anna. All over, Red Rover.
The thought made Rob laugh. He popped his seatbelt, leaning toward Emily to snare a fistful of her silken hair at the nape of her neck. “Ready for me to prove how healthy I am, Doctor Knox?”
He kissed her before she could answer. A long, deep kiss that made her moan against his mouth and snake her arms around his neck.
They fell through his door. If Emily hadn’t been aroused beyond comprehension, she would have been mortified by the clichéd moment. Rob’s lips and tongue moved over hers as they tumbled over the threshold, Emily moving backward, Rob forward, their hands pulling and tugging at each other’s clothes in a feverish attempt to disrobe.
Her fingers fumbled with the buttons on Rob’s shirt, releasing the top two before Rob grabbed at the ruffled neckline and tore it open. The sound of fabric tearing and pearl buttons bouncing across the wooden floor ignited a base lust in Emily and she raked her hands over his now exposed chest, exploring its hard planes even as Rob continued to propel her backward.
His lips dragged over her throat, her jawline. His hands, finished with shedding his shirt, returned to her body. They ran them over her ribcage, her waist, up to her breasts. He cupped each one with demanding urgency, squeezing them through her dress before returning to her waist again. “Fuck, Emily…” he groaned against her neck, and before she knew what he was doing, he’d slammed her against what felt like the back of a sofa.
Her butt cheeks rammed the cushioned edge and for a wild heartbeat she was perilously close to losing her balance and falling backward. But Rob held her tight, one hand catching the back of her thigh and hooking her leg upward. He grabbed her arse, pushing his hips to hers as his mouth crushed hers again. The rigid length of his erection ground against her spread folds and she whimpered, the bruising contact flooding her pussy with eager moisture.
She ran her hands over his bare torso, marveling at how lean and sinewy he was. When he’d first entered the Centro de Medicinas Alternativas there was more bulk to his form, ropey muscles sculpted into sublime perfection, the body of the adrenaline junkie he confessed to being, but there was something about his body now—stripped of pretension and ego, a fighter’s body, a survivor’s body. Her sex contracted at the steely strength beneath her palms and she moaned, rolling her hips to stroke her pussy up his contained shaft.
“The bed…” he rasped against her lips, yanking her leg higher. He thrust his hips forward, his cock rubbing at her clit through their clothes.
“Undress me,” she panted back. She couldn’t wait for the bed. She needed to feel that long, thick organ now. In her hands, in her mouth. In her sex.
He did as he was told, breaking their kiss long enough to yank her dress over her head. He threw it aside, taking a slight step backward to gaze at her, his stare devouring what its removal had revealed. “Christ, woman, you are beautiful.”
She perched on the sofa’s backrest, Rob’s hand sliding to her thigh, her body on utter display. Her nipples pebbled under his molten inspection, chafing against the lace of her black bra. She watched his face as his eyes roamed every inch of her, her pussy fluttering with increasing urgency, growing heavy with wet need.
He lifted his gaze to hers, stepping back into the embrace of her spread thighs. “So beautiful.” His mouth found hers again, his tongue delving past her lips until he captured hers. His hands travelled her back, up her spine, to her shoulders, burying in her hair as he made love to her mouth with his tongue.
She clung to him, her head swimming, her pulse racing. Oh Lord, she wanted to come. He’d made her come twice already since she’d arrived in the country and it wasn’t even close to enough. She wanted to come again and again and again. Twisting her head to the side, she tore her lips from his, her breath shallow as he scored a line of nipping bites along her jaw. “Please, Robert…” Her begging moan was almost strangled by her aching desire. “Please make love to me.”
“The bed…” He worked his lips down the column of her throat, across the line of her collarbone. “Stretched before me…” He teased the curve of her shoulder with his teeth, his hands skimming over her back. “Gloriously naked…”
She was about to protest when his fingers released her bra clasp. Her breasts fell free of the skimpy lace, Rob helping them along by pulling her bra from her body and tossing it away.
He captured one nipple between his lips and the other between his thumb and fingers, sucking and twisting and tormenting. She arched her back, every molecule of her existence thrumming with mounting tension. Holding his head to her breast, she hooked her leg around his back. Deprived of his hardness against her pussy, she groaned with both frustration and pleasure. His mouth was doing things to her nipple she’d never imagi
ned possible. Not just suckling on it, but biting and teasing in such a way she felt the muscles of her womb begin to contract. Lord, she was going to orgasm. He was making her climax with just his mouth and fingers on her breasts.
“Rob,” she gasped, a quiver building through her. Her hips bucked forward, her sex gripping a cock not yet there. “Rob, I’m going to…”
He dropped to his knees and yanked the sodden crotch of her knickers to the side, burying his tongue into her folds. Thrusting in and out, in and out, he paused only to suck on her clit, nibble it with his lips before returning his tongue to her folds, lapping at her, penetrating her slit until the quiver in her body turned to a shudder in her core and she threw back her head, crying out words with no sound, her cream flooding her sex.
Three times, Emily. Three times he’s made you climax. Three times.
The barely lucid thought whispered through her head as the pulsing throb between her thighs began to fade. She drew in a long breath, forcing her heart to calm. To steady.
And then Rob straightened to his feet, snaking his arms around her back. “I think it’s time for the bed now, Doc,” he murmured, the dimple in his right cheek flashing, and her heart starting beating wildly again.
He flung her over his shoulder. Just like that, as if she were a rag doll and not a woman almost as tall as he was. As if he hadn’t just finished eight months of draining, debilitating cancer treatment. She let out a shout, surprised and sinfully turned on by his unexpected show of caveman psyche. And yet, the doctor she still was—his doctor—wanted to order him to put her down. Only a few hours ago he’d confessed to having a giddy head. He couldn’t do this now. It was too straining. Too exerting.
If you tell him to do so, Emily, you may as well collect your bag and passport and catch the next flight back to Barcelona alone. Treat him like a patient now and you will destroy any chance the two of you have for a—
She didn’t finish the thought. The abrupt shift in the world as Rob threw her on his bed replaced the word future with a delighted squeal. She wriggled on the mattress, gazing up at him through her lashes, the silken caress of the feather-soft duvet beneath her almost as delicious as the unmistakable desire smoldering in his eyes.
He stood at the foot of the bed, lean bare torso a golden sheen in the room’s warm light. His nipples, small and brown, drew her stare and she caught her bottom lip between her teeth. What would they feel like under her tongue? She’d wondered that very thing more than once during the last few months of his treatment, during the hours when she sat at her desk supposedly writing her notes but thinking instead of him in ways a doctor was never meant to think of their patient. She’d seen him naked many times before. She’d touched him while he was so, when conducting his weekly physical, while he’d endured the daily forty-five minutes of complete sun exposure required for his treatment, while he’d tolerated clinical showers pre- and post-surgery, but never with desire controlling her heart. Every time she’d forced the stirring tension in the pit of her belly aside. Ignoring it until that last night. And even then, she’d fled his room before her lips could taste his nipples like they so longed to do.
The slow movement of his hands jerked her stare from his chest and her mind from their past. She watched, breath caught in her throat as he released the buckle on the pale blue belt circling his hips. Her mouth turned dry and she swallowed, her full attention locked on his fingers lowering the zipper of his fly.
This is really it, Emily. Three orgasms to his zero.
With a slight shimmer of his legs, his tuxedo trousers fell from his hips, his cock—engorged with blood—jutting straight up from the dark nest of curls between his thighs.
Lord, it’s blooming magnificent.
“Now,” he said, toeing his shoes off and removing his socks, “I’m pretty bloody certain I said gloriously naked, didn’t I.”
Before she could supply a response, he placed his right knee on the end of the bed and smoothed his hands up her legs, inside her thighs until his fingers brushed over the curve of her mons with taunting strokes. “And as sexy as these undies are,” he continued, tracing the low waistline of her lacy knickers from one hip to another, “they’ve gotta go.”
He slipped his fingers under the black lace and, stare holding hers, slowly, slowly slid them down her legs until they were discarded on the floor.
Emily’s heart thumped hard against her breastbone. Her pussy contracted, the cool air of Rob’s bedroom kissing her newly exposed sex.
“And there was something about moisture from your juices and my tongue on your thighs, correct?”
His voice was rough, each syllable sounding strained. His nostrils flared as he placed his other knee on the bed, nudging her legs wider. Opening her pussy lips to him.
A wicked thrill shot through Emily, pinching her nipples tight. She’d never been so completely exposed, so completely at someone’s mercy. It made her pulse pound and her core clench. She could feel the product of her excitement, warm and wet, seep from her sex. She could smell it. Her raw pleasure. Hanging on the air, filling her breath. And that, too, made her all the more aroused.
Lord, I’m so wanton.
The old-fashioned term tickled at her rational mind and she closed her eyes. Not because she was ashamed of herself, but because she wanted to lose herself to the pure sensations of what she knew Rob was about to do.
He didn’t keep her waiting, dipping two fingers into her sex in one slow, steady penetration. He rolled his wrist, stroking the inside of Emily’s walls with deliberate attention. She lifted her hips, the action taking him deeper inside her. He made a little sound, like a groan and a sigh combined, and then just as slow and steady, withdrew his fingers. “Your juices,” he murmured, smearing the slick cream from within her centre over her pussy lips, the tops of her thighs.
She sucked in a choppy breath, the very idea of what he was doing to her driving her faster to the brink of sexual oblivion.
“And my tongue,” he continued, voice lower. Closer. His body heat replaced the cool air of the room on her spread sex a second before his tongue lapped a line from the puckered opening of her anus to the blood-engorged nub of her clit.
She bucked her hips higher, a soft whimper vibrating in her throat, growing louder as Rob placed his hands flat on the inside of her knees and pushed her legs wider apart. He licked her labia, her perineum, he explored with thorough and unhurried focus every inch of her spread pussy. And just when she thought she was going to fall over the precipice into mindless release, he moved his mouth to her inner thighs and painted her skin with his tongue.
Emily let out another cry, her pussy heavy.
“So,” Rob whispered, raising onto his knees. His voice shook. “You are gloriously naked, stretched out before me, your thighs glistening wet from your juices and my tongue.” His hands skimmed up to her hip, under her arse. Holding her. Holding her. “What’s next, Emily? Tell me.”
“You bury yourself into my sweet, hot sex.”
“Bingo,” he breathed, jerking her arse up off the bed and sinking his cock deep into her very soul.
Chapter Five
He moved inside her. Long hard strokes he barely controlled. His scrotum slapped her butt cheeks, his fingers digging into the firm muscle of each as he withdrew and penetrated again and again. A distant part of his mind whispered the word condom, another equally distant part whispered back sterile. He didn’t care about either word. Whether his treatment had left him incapable of procreating or not—and according to Emily, it had—meant nothing to him at that very moment. What mattered was the sheer and absolute pleasure filling her face. Pleasure he’d created in her.
“Fuck, you are so tight,” he groaned, sliding one hand from her backside and up over her hip. He smoothed his palm, fingers splayed, along her belly to her ribcage, watching her eyelids flutter closed when the tips of his finger brushed the underswell of her breast. “So tight and so wet.”
He returned his hand to her arse, h
olding her butt off the mattress as he thrust deeper into her pussy. The exquisite muscles of her sex sucked at his length with greedy hunger, making his head spin and his balls hard. He could feel the bulbous head of his cock slide against her walls, could feel the lips of her cream-slicked channel slip up and down his length. It was unlike anything he’d experienced before.
How can it be, Rob? It’s sex. Something you’ve had many times before.
No, it wasn’t just sex. This was something else. This was…
Making love?
He groaned, thrusting into her again, a powerful stroke that lowered her body back to the mattress. He went with her, still embedded in her exquisite heat, his legs framed by hers, stare locked on her face.
“I knew we would be the perfect fit,” he murmured, driving his cock deeper into her. He tasted her lips, her chin, back to her lips again, thrusting in, pulling out with each gentle kiss.
Emily’s nails bit into his shoulders. Her legs wrapped around his hips. She met his motion with her own, rocking in time to his hips, her thighs gripping him with inescapable strength. He didn’t want to escape. He was exactly where he wanted to be.
Lowering his head, he buried his face against her neck, sucking in her delicate scent as he thrust harder and harder. Faster. He felt lightheaded, but had no idea why. His health? His pleasure? Who the fuck cared? He was going to come soon. The sexual electricity building in his groin had already started to spike up his spine. Too many months craving this very thing—being with Emily, being inside her, holding her—meant whatever skill he had at controlling his release was shot to hell. He couldn’t help that. He wanted her too fucking much. But he wanted her to come with him. He needed her to come with him.
Dragging his lips up to her ear, he nipped at her earlobe, tangling his hands in strands of her hair fanned out around her head on the mattress. He was going to come soon, but not until he’d made her scream his name.
Dare Me: Red Hot Weekend Page 5
