by Jo Leigh
Down went her skirt, and after she got it past her hips, she turned to face him again. He was still on the pink side. And he looked as if he was struggling not to take her on the spot.
Bless her textbooks. Bless Nancy Friday and Masters and Johnson and Yellow Silk. She let her skirt drop, and just as she was stepping out of it, there was a loud knock on the door that scared her half to death. She dove for cover, and her foot got caught in her skirt. Flailing her arms like two propellers, she managed to keep herself upright, barely. It was Chase who steadied her.
Luckily, he went to the door while she gathered her composure. She’d forgotten about room service. But that was okay. She hadn’t gotten to the nitty-gritty of her striptease yet.
While he was gone, she could also retrieve her blouse and skirt. No need for them to be wrinkled. The shirt was on his dresser, and she’d knocked over his cologne bottle. Nothing had spilled, though. Checking to make sure he was still busy, she opened the purple bottle and sniffed. The scent was rich and spicy and masculine, just like Chase. She remembered a hint of it on his skin, a suggestion of something forbidden.
She put it down the second she heard him at the bedroom door. Whirling around, she smiled, preparing herself for Act II.
“Jamie—”
“Wait. Sit down.”
“But—”
“Please. I don’t want to lose my nerve.”
He hesitated, then nodded as he went to his former position on the bed. But the pink had left his cheeks and his expression had become rather stoic. She had her work cut out for her.
Hurrying to center stage, she reached back to unhook her bra. By the second loop she remembered to smile. Of course, she didn’t just let the bra fall. Her arms, clamped to her sides, held it on. Seductively and bit by bit, she slipped the first bra strap off her shoulder, then the second.
All that was left was the boob portion. Oh, my. The lights were very bright. But it was Chase, and she wanted him to know everything about her, didn’t she?
She lifted her arms and the bra landed at her feet. Chase went into a coughing fit, and she tried to remember if she’d ever read about coughing and libido. Probably. He had to turn away for a moment while he gathered himself together, but she didn’t mind the wait.
Looking down, she saw her nipples were hard as erasers and standing out kind of far. Would he like them? She didn’t sag very much, but her boobs weren’t going to win any prizes. They were just…boobs.
Anyway, Chase had calmed down and he was looking at her again. It was time for Act III. The panties.
She’d picked a standard pair of blue bikinis this morning, not knowing, of course, that she’d be taking them off so publicly. At least they had no holes.
Thumbs under the waistband, then push down. Slower. This was it, he was going to see her completely naked. He’d be the first man. How she’d dreamed of this moment. But in her dreams, the lights weren’t quite so bright.
She felt her own cheeks heat as she pushed her panties down over her butt, and then they were around her thighs, and she just wanted them off so she could get to the bed and climb under the covers. He might be visually stimulated, but she felt like a fool.
Yeah, yeah, it was all natural and wonderful, and part of the life cycle and all that crap, but she was standing in front of Chase Newman, who was fully clothed, while she was stark naked.
She should turn around. She didn’t want to, but he would like it. Okay. Smile. Turn.
When she’d finished the one-hundred-eighty degree turn, the red had come back to Chase’s face, and he looked as if he was going to have another coughing fit. Maybe he wasn’t feeling well.
She approached him, trying to walk sexy but growing concerned. “Chase? Are you sick?”
He shook his head, then turned to the side.
This wasn’t amusing. Now she was worried. She moved to the side of the bed and sat down. “Chase, look at me.”
He shook his head again.
Since he wouldn’t move, she did. When she was on the other side of him, he tried to hide his face, but she wouldn’t let him. She wasn’t an MD but she would know if he needed to see someone for his cough.
She tugged at his hands, and they came away from his mouth. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his whole face was hot. This was looking serious, and she was just about to suggest they go to the emergency room when a sound burst out of Chase. Not a cough. A laugh.
Oh my God, he wasn’t choking. He was laughing. She bolted off the bed, grabbed a pillow and put it in front of her nakedness.
He let loose with a snort and shook his head, trying like hell to wipe the grin from his face, but it was too late. Her humiliation was total, and all she wanted to do was get the hell out of Dodge.
She moved toward her skirt—the heck with her underpants. Out. She needed to get out.
“Jamie—”
“Please don’t say anything,” she begged. “I can’t take it. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
His laughter subsided suddenly, as if a light switch had been turned off. He stood, headed toward her, and if she wasn’t fast, he’d be between her and her clothes.
“Honey, don’t.”
“I asked you not to say anything.”
“I have to.” He planted himself in front of her, blocking her clothes and her exit. “Please, don’t go. I wasn’t laughing at you.”
“Right. You were just laughing near me. Go away.”
He cupped her cheek with his palm. “I don’t think I’ve ever wanted to be with anyone more than I want to be with you right now.”
She winced. “Pinocchio, your nose is getting longer.”
His low chuckle made her open her eyes. “You’re really bad at anatomy.”
Her gaze shot down to his pants, and, sure enough, there was a nice-size bulge right where it should be. “Don’t tell me you have a fetish for inept strippers.”
“I don’t. But I think I’ve got a problem with beautiful radio talk-show hosts.”
“Barbara DeAngelis will be glad to hear it.”
“Jamie, honey, stop. I think you’re wonderful, and delicious, and I loved what you did, and I think I was laughing out of sheer pleasure. You’re completely unexpected, you know that?”
“Is that a good thing?”
“Yeah. It’s a good thing.”
“So there was nothing about my body that put you into hysterics?”
“No.” His hand moved from her cheek to the pillow, and he lifted it out of her arms. “You’re exquisite. In every detail.”
“You don’t have to go overboard.”
“Would you cut it out? I don’t lie.”
The joke was over. “Yes, you do. You lied for me on the radio.”
“I did not. I didn’t seduce you. You won.”
“You and I both know that’s not true. You seduced me, all right. You made my knees weak and my heart pound, to say nothing of what happened to the, uh, other parts.”
His smile turned mischievous. “Is that so?”
She nodded.
“Now, what parts would those be?” He touched her shoulder with the pad of his index finger. “Here?”
She shook her head.
Looking puzzled, he moved the finger to the tip of her nose.
“You’re ice cold.”
“Hmm.” His finger moved to the space between her breasts, and he let it trail slowly downward.
“Warmer,” she whispered, and the word described her, too.
Then, looking into her eyes as if she held magic, he circled her breast over and over, the circles becoming smaller and smaller until he was almost touching her nipple. Then his other hand got busy, and, before she even had time to think, she was aching in a way that had everything to do with Chase and being a woman. She was ready.
Her eyes fluttered closed the second he touched her swollen buds. The sensation was unbelievable. Intimate, stirring, thrilling. But, being very greedy, she wanted more.
It didn’t seem at all weird
to let her hand drift to his pants, to the straining hardness beneath the denim. His moan made her braver, and she found his belt buckle.
Despite her awkward struggles, she got the belt undone, then concentrated on the buttons of his fly, which turned out to be trickier, probably because there was so much strain on the material. He ended up helping her, which didn’t matter at all. In fact, he unceremoniously yanked his pants down, then tossed them away, and there he was, in his boxers and his socks. The socks held no interest. The boxers, plenty.
His erection pressed the material out in a tent worthy of an Eagle scout. She had to accept the proof that his laughter wasn’t a sign of disinterest. Far from it.
She reached a tentative hand to the front of his shorts and cupped her palm around the bulge. He inhaled sharply, and she felt his penis jerk.
Her previous embarrassment forgotten, she thought of nothing but his body, her body, and what they were about to do. Twenty-six years she’d waited for this moment. To understand what it felt like to be filled by a man. To feel his lips all over her body. To take him in her mouth.
She pulled his underwear down, pausing briefly to clear the hurdle of his erection. He finished the job, taking off his socks, too. When he straightened up, she held her breath.
He was gorgeous. His broad chest, the light covering of hair over the planes of his muscles. His tummy, flat, rippled, perfect. As for his sex? Spectacular. She wasn’t terribly good with measurements, but he hadn’t lied about his dimensions.
“Jamie? Are you going to stare at me all night?”
“Oh, no. I want to touch you, too.”
He laughed again, but this time she welcomed the sound, recognizing the warmth and affection behind it. “Do you want to stand here or go to the bed?”
“The bed.” She reached out, got a firm grip on his shaft, amazed at the softness of his skin and the hardness of what lay beneath, and headed toward the bed.
“Hey, that’s attached.”
“Well, then, come on.” “Yes, ma’am.”
She released him when she got to the bed. Then she sat on the edge and maneuvered him in front of her. Now she was eye-level with his belly button. But she didn’t give a hang about that. Her focus was his male parts. She’d seen pictures, movies; read about penises; heard all the different slang names—and yet she’d never seen one in the flesh. Well, that’s not true. She’d seen little boys when she baby-sat, but that was comparing apples and oranges. Or cucumbers and…gherkins.
“What’s that smile for?”
“Nothing,” she said. “Except that I think you’ve got a beautiful penis.”
“Thanks. I like your labia.”
She giggled, then took hold of his shaft again.
“Uh, Jamie?”
“Yeah?”
“You do realize you can do more than just hold it, right?”
“Really?”
He nodded. “All sorts of things. It’s quite versatile.”
“Oh?”
“Well, it doesn’t whistle Dixie or anything, but it can make you feel real good.”
“I want to try it all,” she whispered. “Everything.” She touched the very tip of him with her tongue; then, needing more of a proper taste, she licked all around the head.
He groaned and touched the back of her head with his hand. He didn’t push, just touched her.
Emboldened, she started teasing him in earnest, licking from head to shaft, all the way down, and then she even teased his testicles with her tongue. His taste was a bit salty, but what she tasted most was…male. Not just any male, but Chase. Distinct, like his scent. Masculine. Intoxicating.
She found herself at the tip again, and this time instead of licking, she took him in her mouth. Although she knew that some women could open their throats all the way, she wasn’t nearly that talented. But she could flick her tongue just under the glans, and she could pump his shaft while she sucked him like a lollipop. From his moans, she gathered he had no complaints. And neither did she.
It felt naughty. Scandalous. Incredible.
She wanted nothing more than to please him. To make him groan with delight. And it wouldn’t hurt her feelings if he ravished her until she couldn’t walk.
His hand stilled her head, and he pulled away from her. She looked up into his eyes.
“It’s my turn,” he said.
She didn’t argue.
The next moment was something out of her dreams. He picked her up, like Richard Gere had carried Debra Winger, minus the officer’s cap. He walked around the bed, and before he put her down he kissed her. It was a doozy, and she sighed with happiness. When he joined her on the bed, he looked at her from head to toe and gave her a sinful smile. A thrum of excitement started in her belly, and even before his hand went to her breast, she was trembling like a leaf.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered. “I want you so badly.”
“Take me.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. “More sure than I’ve ever been about anything.”
“Good,” he whispered, and after another brief kiss on her mouth, his lips traveled down to her chin, her neck, her chest, and then those same luscious lips closed over her right nipple. His tongue flicked her, and sensations shot through her, straight to the junction of her thighs. She felt herself moisten, and when he sucked hard, she found her hips moving without any conscious effort.
She was primed, ripe, ready for anything. He’d changed her, right from the beginning. He’d rearranged her molecules, and he’d made her understand what being a woman was all about.
Now, as he suckled her breast, as his hand meandered down her hip and her backside, she understood something else, too. This desire for him was physical, yes, but that was only the symptom, not the cause.
She wanted him to be inside her, to fill her, to complete her. She’d waited a lifetime for this moment, for this man. She ran her hand through his hair, and that brought him away from her breast. He straightened until his gaze and hers locked, and for breathless moments she saw something completely new. She saw herself in her lover’s eyes. And she was beautiful.
He slid down her body until she felt his hands on her knees. Gently, he spread her legs, then moved between them. She grabbed the covers with both hands as his head lowered to her sex.
His warm breath made her tense; then his lips were on her and it was all she could do not to cry. And it just kept getting better.
He licked her, slid his tongue inside, found the magic knob and coaxed it from under its hood, and then he sucked her until she thrashed and cried out. His tongue danced, and his finger entered her, teasing, thrusting, unlocking her secrets. Thoughts vanished, the world disappeared as she writhed under him. And then her body tensed, every muscle grew taut trembling, all the feelings she’d ever felt right there where his tongue was—
She exploded.
And, in the next moment, while the fireworks were going off one after another, he was at the gates of her sex, his thick, hot manhood slipping inside.
She moved her hips up, wanting him, needing him. He moved slowly, steadily. When she looked at him, she saw the control, the cords on his neck, the concentration in his eyes. He was holding back so he wouldn’t hurt her.
She didn’t care. Nothing mattered except having him inside her. All the way.
“Do it,” she whispered. “Please. Make love to me, Chase.”
“I might hurt you.”
“I don’t care.” She lifted her hips again. “Please, Chase. Now.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, opened them again, and as she gazed at his face, he thrust into her. One long, brilliant, unbelievable push until he had stretched her beyond anything she’d known before, until he was fully inside her, until they had become one.
Tears came, but not from pain. From joy. From pleasure. From Chase.
He made slow love to her, and as he did, his gaze never wavered. They connected, not just sexually but spiritually. Something magic
passed between them, and she felt as if her fate and his combined to make two new beings. Or was it only one?
She climaxed again, this time in a different way, a softer total body release. And after she finished, he started his climb. Moving faster, his muscles tense and his gaze electric, he thrust harder, harder, and then he gave a cry that was heaven and hell. She wrapped her legs around him, riding his climax, sharing the moment, loving the man.
Loving the man.
Everything changed. In the blink of an eye. On the crest of a wave. In the arms of her man.
15
CHASE STARED UP at the ceiling as Jamie slept, nestled in the crook of his arm. Now, he’d gone and done it. He’d crossed a line he’d avoided all his life. There was no couching it in softer terms, no denying the fact. He’d fallen in love.
It wasn’t the sex, and yet it was. It wasn’t her little striptease, yet that was when it had first hit him. Then he’d entered her and realized he never wanted to leave. He wanted to be in her, part of her, with her, forever. Only, for him, forever wasn’t in the cards.
How could he do this to her? To himself? Never before had he felt so much, so fiercely. He wanted to protect her, to care for her, to give her every gift known to man. He didn’t want to go to Paris or Budapest or anywhere that would take him from her side. No one had told him this was what love was like. He’d never suspected. It was consuming, blocking out the sun and the moon and the stars. It made him someone new.
Just feeling her now, her leg curled around his, her hand on his chest, her warm breath against his skin, he wanted to make love to her again. And again.
The way she looked at him, he knew it was true for her, too. She’d been bewitched, just as he had. Which meant that he was going to hurt her.
Whether today, or next week or in the hour of his death, he was going to crush her with pain. He cursed his father, his genes. For the first time since the truth had come to him, he wanted to change his destiny. He wanted to live.
“Jamie, what have you done?” he whispered, his gaze on her beautiful face. Mesmerized by her pale skin, by the way her eyelashes touched her cheeks, he yearned for something he couldn’t have.
