“Alex?”
God, even her voice was soft, with just that slight hint of honeysuckle that drove him crazy.
“Yeah?” If she wanted to have a conversation—well hell, knowing her, it would have to be an intelligent conversation—he was in deepest shit, because he could barely remember his name.
“Are we going to have sex?”
“Oh yeah,” he breathed.
Ping.
That was the sound of all his restraints popping.
“Good.”
With a groan, he bent down to her again at a sharper angle, his mouth claiming hers, his tongue licking hers. She had a wonderful taste—the bourbon, the faint overtones of the good Merlot at dinner and something else that was pure sex. Could surrender have a taste? If it did, this was it. Her mouth was completely open to his as her head fell back against his hand. Her arms snaked around his neck and he pulled her closer as neurons sputtered and died in his head from overload.
There was a protocol to kissing. You start out slow and build up—then you can stop kissing and get to have sex. But before then, still in the kissing stage, there’s a moment when you understand whether the woman is signaling with her mouth that, yes, they’d be getting it on soon. Once he got to the kissing stage, Alex was rarely refused. So locking lips was a way station to fucking.
Not now, not with Caitlin. It wasn’t a way station to something else, it was something hot and bewitching in its own right. This wasn’t a lead-in kiss, soft little nibbles, delicate probing with his tongue.
He was way too excited for that.
He just plunged straight into her mouth. He placed his open mouth on hers and, to his delight, found her already open for him, soft tongue meeting his immediately. He stroked her mouth with his tongue and felt her sighs against his lips. Each stroke of her tongue sent blood straight to his cock until it was practically dancing in his jeans. His thumb was right against the artery in her neck and he swore he could feel her pulse picking up its rhythm each time his tongue touched hers.
Alex lost track of time, totally lost in the moment, his world reduced to her slim arms around his neck, her breasts against his chest and her open mouth against his. He held her head with both hands, angling it slightly to get a deeper, tighter fit, the smell and the taste of her going straight to his head, hotter and better than the bourbon.
He was hard as a rock, and had been since he’d touched her. Just his finger against the soft skin of her neck had made him swell and, with each stroke of his tongue against hers, he could feel his cock lengthening in hard surges.
Alex cupped her shoulders, feeling the small straps holding up her dress and the slim, strong muscles of her upper arms. His hands glided down to her waist then slowly worked their way back up to the top of the dress.
Ah, there it was. The gateway to paradise. The little zipper doohicky that you pulled to unzip.
He slid the zipper of her dress halfway down and separated the fabric. His hands encountered warm, silky woman and nothing else. He lifted his mouth from hers for just a second.
“All this time,” he gasped, dick so hard it hurt. “All during dinner, I’ve been wondering what you were wearing under this dress.” He smoothed his palms over her soft, warm, bare back. “And now I know.”
“Now you know,” she murmured as he ran his lips over her temple, down to her jaw. She jumped when he nipped her lightly.
He knew a lot of things now. How her breathing sped up when he kissed her, how her back arched when he clasped her small waist, how her breath shuddered when his tongue met hers.
He kept his hands slow, touching her carefully, but what he wanted to do was devour her. Crush her to him with all his strength, then strip her and take her, hard and fast. His head was filled with images of them together, him buried deep inside her, slamming into her, fucking her hard, harder than he’d ever had another woman. The desire that shook him was violent and it took more effort than he liked to keep his hands gentle.
He held his hands open by sheer force of will. What he wanted to do was clutch her, grab at her, sink his fingers into her soft flesh. He wanted to turn his hands into grappling hooks that would bind her to him so strongly she could never get away.
The images in his head frightened him. His hands were strong. If he gripped her as hard as he wanted to, he’d leave bruises all over that pale, creamy skin.
Sliding his open palms upward along the satiny planes of her back, he lightly cupped her head in both hands once more and delved deeply into her mouth. He picked the pins one by one out of her hair and shuddered as the shiny, heavy mass spilled over his hands, her shoulders. The sweet smell of shampoo rose from her hair, like a flower whose petals had been crushed. It was a heady scent, almost overpoweringly sexy.
“God!” he gasped, burying his face in her neck, feeling the soft curls like tendrils against his skin. Hesitantly, he licked her neck, feeling the vein pulsing there, wanting to bite her. He gave into temptation and nipped her. Not hard enough to hurt but sure as hell hard enough to mark possession. She jumped slightly, shuddered. Her breath caught and she let it out in a little moan.
Oh fuck, this was just so delicious. Absolutely everything about it. The feel of her, the smell of her, the taste of her.
He opened the edges of the dress farther and smoothed them forward over her shoulders. The lightest shift, a soft shimmy and slight lift of her hips and it was off. So easy, like something preordained. He hated taking layers off women, but this was like something out of a dream. A whoosh and the dress was gone.
He pulled away and held her at arm’s length, staring hungrily. She was so perfect, small and delicate, with firm, smooth muscles. She blushed under his gaze, the color rosy, the color of arousal, so different from the stoplight-red she’d been before when she dumped a ton of chocolate into his lap.
That tiramisù in his lap was what had brought them to this moment. Bless it. He was going to have it bronzed.
Looking at her was good, touching her was better. He pulled her forward until he was nuzzling her neck, kissing the soft skin behind her ears, raking his teeth down a tendon. It excited her. She shuddered, gave a soft moan. He pulled back a breath and looked down. Oh yeah, her nipples had hardened.
“I don’t know what to do first,” he whispered. A finger reached out, circled her nipple. She shuddered again. His eyes rose, met hers. “Help me out here, Caitlin. What do I do now?”
Her mouth opened then closed. She huffed out a small breath in a laugh. “I have no idea. Surely the great Lieutenant Cruz isn’t looking for instructions from me?”
The great Lieutenant Cruz hadn’t had something this delectable under his hands in a long, long time.
“Well…I want to do things that please you. That’s the general idea, and that’s why I asked.”
She was quiet a moment, light blue eyes wide. The color was amazing in the penumbra of the room. It was like she had twin searchlights in her head.
“Everything you do to me is pleasing,” she said simply.
Alex lost it. Simply lost it.
Surging up from the couch with Caitlin in his arms, he made for the staircase, his mouth on hers. She was light as a feather, but even if she hadn’t been, he was so blasted by lust he had superhuman strength. He would have carried her up if she’d been a solid bronze statue, because upstairs was where his bed was and he wanted her on it—and him on her—more than he wanted his next breath.
He stubbed his toe on the first step and muttered “shit!” into her mouth. Her lips curved under his.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” she breathed against his mouth as he raced up the stairs. “You might throw your back out.”
Fuck yeah he wanted to do this!“It’s my night for living dangerously,” he growled.
Alex didn’t turn on the light in his bedroom. The curtains were open and a full moon shone in, bathing Caitlin in luminescence. He set her on her feet, this slim, pale column of woman, and spent about a second enjoying the v
iew. He wanted to enjoy this view for hours, but he wanted his hands on her more.
She was wearing brief, white stretchy panties and high heels.
Jesus.
“Wow, I’m glad I didn’t know what was under that dress. Or what wasn’t under that dress.” He buried his face in her hair. “I’d never have made it through dinner.”
He ran his index finger around the elastic of her panties. When she clutched his shoulders and gasped, he caught her mouth beneath his and slipped his hand down over her flat little belly, past the elastic, and cupped her.
The heat was incredible. He waggled his hand gently from side to side and she obeyed the silent signal, shifting her legs to open them. Ah yes. That was better. He circled his finger around her opening, feeling the moisture welling. Perfect.
Her pubic hair was soft, almost as soft as the skin of her cunt, slick and warm and welcoming. He could feel her welcome as he slid his middle finger around her. Some women had steel traps for cunts but not Caitlin. The soft, plump folds were inviting him in and he took the invitation. He slid his middle finger into her, deeply, feeling her catch her breath against his mouth. She was aroused, there was no doubt about that, her cream coated his hand—but she was small and tight. They were going to need as much cream as he could coax out of her.
Alex probed her pussy with his finger in exactly the same cadence and rhythm as his tongue exploring her mouth. She was caught by him, one hand clutching the back of her head tightly, holding her closely against his mouth, and the other cupping her between her legs, one finger embedded deeply inside her. She couldn’t escape him even if she wanted to.
She didn’t want to, that was clear. Her arms were tight around his neck, fingers in his hair. He could feel her skin warming up through his tee shirt, those lovely naked breasts rubbing against his chest. When he slanted his mouth to kiss her more deeply, she opened even more to him. When their tongues met, her little cunt contracted against his finger and he felt an answering throb in his dick. He moved his finger experimentally, in and out, and she gave a little cry as her cunt clenched tightly. She was seconds from coming, and so was he.
Not here. Not like this.
When it happened, he wanted them to be on the bed and he wanted to be on top of her, cock in cunt, riding her.
Alex didn’t much care what positions he took with his sex partners. He often left it up to the woman and if she wanted to be on top, that was fine with him. More than fine. Less work for him.
But not this time, not with Caitlin. Not the first time. He wanted her spread out under him, that glorious hair a pale cloud around her head. He wanted to be on top, holding her down with the weight of his body, thrusting heavily into her. The missionary position, they called it, but he didn’t feel like a missionary. He felt raw and primitive and he wanted to take her in the most basic way there was, male taking female, hard and fast and dominant.
It was a night for slow seduction. A plaintive sax throbbed in the distance. He held a beautiful woman in his arms. There was even a full moon shining right outside his window, the way it was supposed to. The music, the night, the moon, a beautiful woman…he should be slowly arousing her, plying her with kisses and caresses, murmuring words of praise.
He should be murmuring words of praise because she was, hands down, the most beautiful woman he’d ever held in his arms. He had no trouble sweet-talking other women, why was it he couldn’t find the words right now? The heat in his head blasted all the words right out.
Alex knew how to do this. He had all the moves and God knows, he’d practiced them often enough. He knew how to juice a little romanticism into the moment. But all those savvy, practiced moves, all that knowledge about what women liked simply drained from his head, together with all the blood in it.
Make an effort. He pulled back from her lips, something so hard he should get a goddamn medal for it. “You’re so beautiful,” he croaked.
She blinked then pulled him down to her by his ears. “Kiss me,” she said.
Okay. She didn’t need words. Neither did he.
Hunger seethed in his veins. Instead of stripping her gently, he all but tore off her panties until they pooled around her ankles then lifted her up and away from them before lifting her onto the bed. He wasn’t gentle about it, either. He dropped her so hard she bounced.
He placed a knee on the bed and bent down to take her shoes off. Very pretty shoes. Classic fuck-me shoes. He slipped them off her very pretty feet and tossed them over his shoulder, where they landed with twin thuds.
Her pale skin glowed in the moonlight. When she smiled at him and murmured, “Alex,” he broke his own personal stripping speed record, flinging his clothes behind him in a blur instead of neatly folding them onto the wooden butler next to the chest of drawers, as he did every night.
Alex was about ready to jump on her when the two neurons left in his head sputtered to life.
There was something wrong with this picture. But what?
She was naked. Check. Wonderful.
He was naked. Check. Great— No, wait! He wasn’t supposed to be completely naked, he was supposed to have something on…
Condom!
With shaking hands, Alex reached into his bedside table, where he used to keep his condoms, back when he used to have a sex life. Tearing a packet open, he pulled the latex ring out and handed it to Caitlin. His hands were sweating. He’d never get it done. “You put it on.”
She looked startled as she sat up. “Oh! Okay. I haven’t actually done this before, but…”
He nearly groaned when she put her small, soft hand around his cock and gently pulled it forward so she could work the condom over it. He was so stiff, he worried for a second that his dick was going to break as she tugged it away from his belly. Just crack off at the base from the pressure.
Sweetly awkward, Caitlin fumbled the latex ring over him. The wrong way around. “No, no,” he said.
“What?” Her hands stilled as she looked up at him, eyes flashing silver in the moonlight. “What do you mean, ‘no’?”
“No, not that way,” Alex urged, “turn it around.”
Caitlin said, “What?” again and pushed down, hard.
The condom bounced off his cock—which was as hard as a steel club—and flew across the room.
Alex followed it with his eyes in disbelief until it disappeared into the gloom. His heart beat hard and heavy in his chest as he contemplated utter and total disaster.
Oh God, this was terrible! He was feeling her, smelling her, touching her. Every sense he had was on overload. Visions of her on her back, legs open, soft, warm little cunt glistening with desire—all filling his head. All he could think about was tumbling her onto her back and entering her—a second later!
Jesus, putting on another condom meant…meant leaning over, pulling one out of the drawers, ripping it open… Whole seconds! Maybe a minute! He didn’t have a minute, he was just about ready to blow.
With shaking hands, Alex was reaching for the bedside table again, hoping he could hold out long enough to get another rubber on, when her soft voice sounded in the darkness.
“I’m on the Pill,” she offered. “I was having a few health problems, and the doc—”
Whatever she was going to say was drowned out by his mouth. And anyway, she probably wouldn’t have had the breath to continue because he landed on her in a rush, kneeing her legs apart, holding her open—and slamming into her.
He was coming even as he entered her, in hot, uncontrollable spurts, shaking and spilling liquid from every part of his body—vast amounts of come from his cock, sweat out of every pore, even his eyes were leaking with the intensity of the experience.
He had absolutely no control over his body, over what was happening. It was like being on a freight train with no brakes. Every muscle he had was tense, strained, hard. He was digging his toes into the mattress in an attempt to drive even more deeply into her, though he could feel her clamped tightly around the root of his cock.
He couldn’t possibly go deeper, though he was trying like hell.
If he could, he’d have punched a hole right through her to get in more deeply.
Smooth, smooth Alex, who knew all the moves, who prided himself on being good in bed—was totally out of control.
He couldn’t even move inside her, because that would mean pulling out a little and his cock refused. It wanted to stay where it was, deeply embedded, pouring out come in hot, hard jets while he shuddered with excitement.
It was so intense, it couldn’t last. Finally, finally, he calmed down a little and his heart stopped trip-hammering with excitement…and just settled down to the normal rhythm it would have after a five-mile run.
It was like floating in space. For a long moment, Alex even forgot who he was, all consciousness wiped out, the frontal lobe of his brain turned to cream of wheat while he reveled in his senses, which were more alive than they’d ever been in his life, shooting wild messages of utter joy back to him.
His face was buried in the soft cloud of pale hair that smelled like apple shampoo, his lips just brushing the incredibly soft skin of her temple. She smelled so amazingly delicious—like fruit and candy and flowers—the smell of a desirable woman. Some unique scent that went straight to the most primitive part of his brain.
His breathing hadn’t settled yet. He was still breathing in short spurts that moved a curl of hair lying across his lips. Each breath brought his chest into closer contact with those luscious, round breasts, the aroused little nipples stabbing into him. Even his fucking toes rejoiced, curled up against the bottom of her small, delicate feet.
His cock—ah, his cock was the happiest of all, deeply embedded into the sweetest, wettest little cunt it had ever been in.
Ah yes, he was one happy camper.
Until the blood returned to his head and he was able to put two thoughts together. Once that was a physical possibility, once his brain started working again, the joy and sensual delight fled. Time to take stock—and it wasn’t pretty.
A Fine Specimen Page 10
