by Pamela Clare
He couldn't let her get away with that.
He scooped up water with his hands and let it trickle over her breasts to rinse the soap away, knowing the heat would intensify her pleasure. "Do you like that?"
She answered with a gasp. "Gabe!"
The way she said his name was like a plea--a cry for release that he was more than willing to answer. He slid one arm behind her neck to cradle her head, lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her deep and hard, needing to bury himself inside her any way he could. Then he reached down with his free hand, skimming circles over the smooth skin of her belly, over her hips, over her thighs.
Her wet fingers clenched in his hair, and she drew him closer, whimpering into his mouth, her tongue warring with his, her hips lifting almost out of the water, letting him know without words where she needed his touch most.
He dragged his mouth from hers, slid his hand between her thighs, forcing them down and apart. But the tub was narrow, too narrow to give him the access he wanted. He lifted her right leg so that her calf rested on the side of the tub, opening her fully. And, hell, yeah, he looked--stared--her erotic beauty hitting like a punch to the gut. "Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?"
"I . . . I don't ..." She watched him through wide eyes, her breasts rising and falling with each shallow breath, and he could almost feel her uncertainty. Well, that uncertainty would end right here and right now.
"You are beautiful. I'll show you." He slid his arm out from beneath her neck, stood and grabbed his shaving mirror off the shower wall, its little suction cups making popping sounds as they pulled free from the tile.
"Wh-what are you . . . ?" She started to sit up.
But Gabe was already kneeling beside her again. He caught her right leg with the back of his right arm, pinned it where it was, then held the mirror between her legs, angling it so that she could see. "You are beautiful. See?"
At first she kept her gaze on his, then slowly, she looked into the mirror.
He shifted the mirror into one of her hands, then parted her labia, teasing her inner lips with a fingertip. "Like rose petals. And your clit--perfect, erotic, so sexy."
He flicked it--and felt her tense in response. "I want to taste it, to suck on it just like I suck on your nipples. I want to feel it swell in my mouth."
She exhaled a long shuddering breath, and he knew his words aroused her, every bit as much his hands did.
Then he parted her farther, running slick circles over her clit, teasing her entrance. "I want to taste you. I want to slide my tongue inside you here and feel you come against my mouth. I want . . ."
But then he found himself looking at something he'd never seen before--an intact hymen. Proof that she was more innocent than any woman he'd ever touched.
What the hell are you doing, Rossiter?
The pang of conscience struck unexpectedly, stopping him midsentence. Was he taking advantage of her, using his sexual experience to manipulate her into having sex with him? What the hell kind of bastard was he?
He didn't get time to answer his own questions, because just then she dropped the mirror, took his hand, and pressed it against her, her eyes drifting shut, a look of aroused anguish on her face. "Please!"
Gabe quit listening to his conscience, quit thinking of anything but how much he wanted to see her come again. He pressed deep circles against her just where she seemed to like it most, taking care to catch her clit with each pass, his other hand busy with her breasts. He tried to reassure her, words pouring out of him in urgent whispers. "Yeah, honey. Take it! Take what you need from me!"
She held his hand in place, her grip tight. Her breathing was ragged, her head turning from side to side against the tub, her hair floating in the water around her. Then she stiffened and arched, her head going back as she came with a long, shuddering sigh.
Gabe kept up the rhythm, wanting to prolong her climax, to give her every bit of pleasure he could, the sight of her almost enough to make him come in his jeans. Slowly, the tension drained from her body, leaving her limp. She lay still, her back against the tub, her eyes closed, her hand resting lightly on top of his. He laced his fingers through hers, raised her hand to his lips, and kissed it, the musky scent of her orgasm filling his head, sharpening his own sexual hunger.
She opened her eyes, gave him a shy smile. Then without taking her gaze from him, she slowly sat up, sloshing water onto his jeans, her smile turning decidedly sultry. "When are you going to let me do that for you?"
It wasn't the most blatant offer Gabe had ever received from a woman--but it was the first ever to leave him speechless.
CHAPTER 19
KAT SAW GABE'S pupils dilate, heard his breath catch, and felt the thrill of knowing she could affect him. Still drenched in pleasure, her mind filled with erotic images of her own body, of watching his hands touch her in the most intimate way, she didn't feel like holding back. "You should enjoy this, too, and ... And I want to touch you."
He exhaled in a rush, brushed a strand of wet hair from her cheek. "Are you sure? I don't want to push you. I don't want you to do anything you don't--"
She wrapped her arms behind his neck and kissed him hard, answering his question the best way she knew how, excitement shooting through her when he moaned and crushed her against him, his tongue welcoming hers inside his mouth, his fingers fisting in her hair. He felt so hard against her, the heat of his body burning through his clothes to her wet skin, his pistol pressing into her ribs.
He lifted her out of the tub and into his arms, not bothering with a towel, his lips still hot on hers. A handful of long strides later, she found herself lying on his bed in the semidarkness, light spilling in through the open door. She watched as he unclipped the holster and hung it, with the gun, around his bedpost. Then he drew his shirt over his head and let it fall to the floor.
"Turn on the light." Kat repeated what he'd said to her just last night. "I . . . I need to see you. All of you."
He reached over--click--and she couldn't help but stare. At the strength of his arms and shoulders. At the heavy planes of his chest with its dark curls and flat nipples. At the ridges of his abdomen. At the line of dark hair that trailed down his belly, disappearing behind his zipper. At the unmistakable bulge in his jeans.
Kat's pulse picked up, warmth building in her belly. She wouldn't have imagined that she could feel sexually aroused again so soon after such an earth-shattering climax, but she did. She sat up, tucking her legs beneath her, her shyness gone.
Without taking his gaze off her, he unbuttoned the single button at the top of his fly, unzipped his jeans, then pushed them down his narrow hips, letting them fall to the floor. And for a moment, he stood there, wearing only gray boxer briefs, his thick erection jutting upward, stretching the fabric. "Like what you see so far?"
It was on the tip of Kat's tongue to remind him that she'd seen him undressed once before, but nothing about watching him take off his clothes when he was stumbling around drunk could compare to now. "Yeah."
He hooked his thumbs beneath the waistband of his briefs and drew them down, freeing his erection and standing completely naked before her.
Kat's mouth went dry, her pulse spiking.
There was no mistaking his virility. His penis stood against his abdomen, rising from a nest of dark curls, its thick head fully exposed this time, the gleaming skin stretched tight and almost purple. His testicles rested at the juncture of powerful thighs, full and heavy, one slightly lower than the other. He stood still but not passive, sexual tension humming just beneath his skin as he let her look her fill, clearly at ease with his naked body.
Nizhoni. Beautiful man.
The word came to her mind and refused to leave.
"I'm all yours." A grin on his lips, he took a step toward the bed, then stretched out beside her, offering himself to her. "Look and touch all you want."
GABE WATCHED KAT'S gaze travel over him, resting for one long moment on his cock, and he wondered for a fleeting sec
She ducked down and kissed him, and every thought in his head vanished. His arms went around her--an instinctual response--and he drew her down against his chest, her breasts soft against his ribs, her skin unbelievably smooth, her hair spilling around him. He let her control the kiss, his tongue giving way to her exploration, while his hands moved down the curve of her spine to cup the mounds of her bare ass, his blood so hot he felt like he might spontaneously combust.
Then she dragged her lips from his, laid a hand against his chest, and raised herself up, her fingers fanning through his chest hair, her lips tracing a path from his mouth, down his throat, to his left nipple. She licked it once, twice, three times, sending bolts of pleasure to his groin, the muscles of his abdomen jerking each time. "Jesus."
He wanted to be inside her. Christ, he wanted to be inside her! He wanted to turn her onto her back, wrap her legs over his hips, and slide into her. It would be good. It would be so good--for both of them.
Not possible, Rossiter. You know that.
His mind knew it, but his body didn't give a damn. This was torture, pure and simple--feeling her body against his, her hot little mouth leaving a burning trail on his skin. He groaned out his frustration, slid the fingers of one hand into her hair, the honey-clean scent of her skin mingling with the musky scent of her climax, filling his head, settling on his tongue.
Taste her.
Hell, yeah, he wanted to taste her. He wanted to flip her onto her back and bury his face between her thighs. He would suck her clit, slide his tongue inside her, make her come again and again until the taste of her clung to the back of his throat.
And risk having her think you're a perv? Not a good plan-- atleast not till you know how she feels about that.
"Your body . . . It's so beautiful. So hard." She made a little mewling noise, then kissed and licked his right nipple, her hands exploring his pecs, his shoulders, his biceps, her body moving against his in a rhythm that told him she was turned on, too.
He damned well hoped so, because what she was doing to him was threatening to send him over the edge, his skin hypersensitive, his balls drawing dangerously tight. She found his navel, kissed it, teased it with her tongue, and his cock jerked. He sucked in a breath, willed himself to relax. He'd never jizzed prematurely, and he wasn't about to start now.
She sat up on her knees and met his gaze, her lips swollen and wet from kissing him, her nipples puckered, her breasts rising and falling with each shallow breath. She took his hand and drew it downward. "Show me."
He curled his fingers around his cock. "Do you want me to show you how I get myself off--or do you want to help?"
"Both." She gave a shy little smile made all the sexier by her breathless voice, by the heat in her eyes.
And he damned near came.
Almost unable to breathe, Kat watched as Gabe gripped himself and began to move his hand slowly up and down the length of his erection, his fingers sliding up the underside all way to the tip, before moving down to the base again. She knew he was watching her, but she couldn't take her gaze off what his hand was doing. Everything about him fascinated her--the soft skin that covered hard muscle, the dark hair on his chest, the veins that threaded over his biceps and lower belly.
And his penis . . .
A bead of moisture emerged from the slit on the tip, the head rising from a thick ridge of flesh, the shaft straining upward.
Wanting desperately to touch him, wanting to make him feel the way he'd made her feel, she reached out and cupped his testicles, kneading them gently. The feel of them was unlike anything she'd touched before--heavy, firm, and yet somehow . . . fragile.
Still watching her, he groaned deep in his chest, his hand moving faster--up-down, up-down, up-down. His motions were nothing like the delicate touches that had brought her to orgasm. They were much more forceful, more potent, and she realized this was how he would move if he were inside her--hard, strong, and fast.
And her inner muscles clenched.
The next time his hand moved upward, she closed hers around the base of his penis. His hips jerked, and he all but growled. Then his hand fell aside, his fingers closing in a fist.
Slowly she moved her hand upward, surprised at how hard he felt. Not just firm, but hard. She touched the sensitive tip, letting her fingers explore him, excited by his gasp, then slid her hand to the base again. She was about to ask him to help her, when his hand closed over hers and he began to guide her.
He tightened her grip, his fingers gentle, and then he began to move her hand, gradually increasing the pace, whispering to her almost frantically. "Spread your legs, Kat! Let me touch you!"
She moved her knees farther apart, and his other hand slid insistently between her thighs, his fingers gathering her slippery wetness and rubbing it over her clitoris, stroking her with such skill that she almost forgot to focus on him. "Gabe!"
Somehow, touching her seemed to arouse him even more. His eyes drifted shut, his head turned to the side, and his grip on her hand tightened. His hips thrust upward, the rhythm almost violent as he drove himself into her fist like a piston. His body was drawn so tight she thought it might snap, the cords of his neck standing out, his chest slick with sweat, his hand still busy between her legs.
She knew he was on the edge, but so was she. Oh, the man knew how to touch a woman--and where. He teased her, probed her, then slowly slid a finger inside her, his wrist flexing so that the heel of his hand pushed against her right where it felt best. She moved against his hand, her motions making his finger slide in and out of her, bringing her to the very brink.
"That's it, honey. Ride my hand!" Gabe opened his eyes, looked at where his body joined hers. "God, you're so wet! Oh, Christ!"
With a deep groan, Gabe arched, his hips giving three more hard thrusts, his penis convulsing in her hand, shooting ribbons of thick, white semen over their fingers and onto his belly. The sight was more erotic and stirring than she could have imagined, and the raw sexuality of it sent her over the edge with him.
FEELING STRANGELY CONTENTED, Gabe cradled Kat's head against his shoulder, watching through half-closed eyes as she trailed a fingertip through the pool of ejaculation on his belly. She dabbed at it, made little circles in it, rubbed it into his skin like lotion, her actions somehow both innocent and amusing.
"So this makes a baby." There was a note of awe in her voice.
"Not like this." He reached for the box of tissues on his nightstand. "Mostly, it just makes a mess."
FIVE MINUTES LATER, Gabe sat at the table in his boxer briefs, watching as Kat, wearing that same old T-shirt of his she'd worn this morning, made them a dinner of buffalo steaks, roasted potatoes, and salad. Where she came by this sudden burst of energy when he could barely think and would rather be dozing in his bed with her still in his arms was beyond him. He supposed it was one of the great mysteries of life--how having a good orgasm knocked a man out, but reenergized a woman and left her ravenous.
Maybe it was an evolutionary thing that had enabled women to fatten up for pregnancy and produce healthier offspring back in the day when life was hard and food scarce. He could kind of see that. A cave woman has sex with a cave man, and while he's lying on the mammoth skin in a postcoital stupor, she raids his cave for leftovers. Still, Gabe supposed human males had it easy. If he were a male black widow or praying mantis, Kat would be munching on him right now, not carrot sticks.
Not that he and Kat had mated. Not that they'd actually had sex. They'd done nothing more than get each other off like a couple of high school kids. And yet it had satisfied him in a way that three years of hard-core fucking hadn't. Later, when his brain was working again, this would probably scare the shit out of him, but for now he wanted to savor the moment.
He watched Kat sprinkle salt and pepper on the rib eyes. Then she bent down to slide them in the oven to broil, and his gaze shifted to the curve of her ass and her cute lavender panties. And some of his drowsiness lifted.
She shut the oven, then stood and turned to him, half-eaten carrot stick in hand. "Do you like onions in your salad?"
Despite what had happened today, she seemed relaxed, almost happy, the ordeal she'd been through temporarily forgotten. Some macho part of him found this more than a little gratifying. Distracted by the sweetness of her face, he barely heard himself answer. "Uh-huh."
It was a good thing she hadn't just asked him if he liked rat turds in his salad.
You're in over your head, buddy!
Yeah, he was. But at the moment that didn't seem so bad.
KAT DABBED HER lips with the napkin, then leaned back in her chair, her belly full, her body replete. "That was delicious. Thank you."
Gabe gave her a lazy grin. "You're the cook. Thank yourself."
Something in the way he looked at her made it hard for her to think. Or maybe it was the fact that he was still half naked. Or the sight of his hand--the same hand that had made her come twice this evening--resting against the table.
That's it, honey. Ride my hand!
Heat flooded her cheeks, and she found herself struggling to remember the thread of their conversation. "It ... It was your food we ate, so ..."
His eyes narrowed. "You're blushing."
She sat up straight, pressed her hands to her cheeks and looked away. "No, I'm not. It's just warm. I ... I should start the dishes."
Feeling embarrassed that he had noticed, she stood, grabbed their plates, and carried them to the sink. She had just turned on the water to rinse them when she felt Gabe come up behind her. His hands settled against the countertop on either side of her, his lips nuzzling the sensitive skin beneath her ear, his breath hot on her skin.
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