by Tawna Fenske
She looked up to see him watching her.
“What are you thinking?” he asked.
“You’re beautiful.” She laughed. “I mean, if it’s okay to say that to a guy.”
“Honey, you can say whatever you want to me. Just say it with my hands all over your body.”
He reached for her again and Janelle gasped, feeling his big hands slide over her ribs, then down over her hips. He pulled her to him and she went willingly, turning her face up to meet his. She felt his lips touch hers, and any trace of hesitation was washed away like the clay.
The kiss was electric. Her hands slid over his shoulders, pulling him closer. His chest was hard and solid, tickling her bare breasts with the springy dusting of hair. His mouth was hot and urgent, and his palms felt huge in the small of her back.
She’d never had a kiss draw out like this one, soft and tender and wet and dizzying. Steam swirled around him, and she felt dazed from the heat, or maybe it was the kiss. She gasped as he moved his lips from hers and began kissing his way down her throat, her shoulders, her breasts. He lingered there, sliding his tongue over her nipples and making her mindless for what seemed like hours.
Then he dropped to his knees in front of her and looked up. “I’ve been dying to taste you,” he said. “May I?”
“God, yes.”
He laughed and cupped one hand over her backside, drawing her closer. Janelle gripped the tile soap dish, hoping like hell it was anchored in tight as his tongue delved into the cleft between her legs. She cried out and let her head fall back as the spray pelted her throat and Schwartz’s tongue dipped into her, tasting, swirling, probing.
She threaded her fingers through his hair, moaning as he continued making her delirious with his mouth. He slid one long finger into her and brushed something that made her eyes fly wide open.
“Holy God!” she gasped. “What the—”
The shower walls crashed down around her, or maybe that was all in her head. Everything seemed to be exploding at once, but all she could feel were sensations of pleasure, wave after glorious wave of it rolling into her as he licked and teased and stroked into her.
When he stood up again, she clung to him. It was partly affection, but partly the fact that she was pretty sure her legs wouldn’t work anymore.
“Jesus,” she murmured. “Where did you learn to do that?” She winced, shaking her head. “Never mind. Please don’t say your mother.”
“Definitely not.” He smiled at her as the water sluiced down his shoulders. He cupped her hips again, running his hands up her rib cage to cover her breasts. He planted a kiss on her forehead, then another on her shoulder and one more on the top of her left breast.
Janelle reached for his cock, closing her fingers snugly around the shaft. “If I turn around right now, will you slide inside me and make me scream up against the wall?”
“Probably.”
“Probably?”
“But that’s not what I want to do.”
She frowned at him, her hand still gripping him as she tried not to let her disappointment show. “What do you want to do, play Scrabble?”
He laughed. “Hardly. Make no mistake, I want to make love to you so much I can’t stand it. Which is kinda the point.”
“What?”
“I don’t want us standing. I want to lie down in bed with you so I can stroke and lick and suck and kiss every square inch of your body. I want to make love to you for hours until we’re both so exhausted we fall asleep in each other’s arms. And then when we wake up, I want to do it again.”
“Oh,” she breathed, nodding. “Okay, I approve this plan.”
“I want to pleasure you the way you deserve to be pleasured, and yeah, I guess that is something I learned from my mother.” He grimaced. “That sounded seriously fucked up.”
She laughed and slid her hand up and down the length of him, making him groan. “You’re lucky I’ve heard your stories. Otherwise, I’d be out of here.”
She released him then and bent down to twist off the taps, deliberately skimming her breasts over the sensitive tip of him. He let out a strangled hiss as Janelle ran her hands up his thighs, pausing to plant a kiss on each hip. Then she stood, splaying her hands over his chest. “Shall we adjourn to the boudoir?”
“Hell, yes.”
She watched in a daze as turned to grab a fluffy towel off the hook just outside. He handed it to her without comment, and she dried off with what she could only assume was world-record speed. He did the same, then dropped his towel in a puddle on the shower floor before reaching for her.
“Come on,” he said, catching her hand in his so she dropped her towel, too.
She grinned. “Impatient much?”
“I’ve been waiting years for this.”
She started to point out that they’d known each other less than two weeks, but he was kissing her again before she could find the words. Then a different set of words echoed in her mind as they stumbled toward the bedroom.
I’ve been waiting years for this, too.
He kissed her hard as they reached the bedroom, but the ferocity of it turned gentle as the backs of her knees touched the edge of the bed. He pulled away, and for a moment, she thought he was having second thoughts. She reached for him again, ready to hold him here by force if he tried to flee.
But Schwartz just shook his head. “You’re so beautiful.” He stroked a finger over her cheek. “The most beautiful thing I’ve seen in my life.”
She laughed, thinking of her wet hair and chipped manicure and all the scrapes and scratches adorning her legs. But his expression was so earnest, so sincere, that she knew he meant every word of it.
“I want you,” she whispered, meaning that, too.
He cupped his whole palm over her cheek like he was memorizing her features by touch. Then he kissed her again, even softer this time, and Janelle closed her eyes to savor this new iteration of him.
She felt his arm hook around the small of her back and he lifted her off the ground like she weighed nothing at all. He laid her gently back on the bed, still kissing her with a gentle intensity that left her twining her fingers around his neck with the hope he’d never stop.
The weight of his body pressed her deep into the mattress, and she opened her legs so he could ease himself between them. She half expected him to slide inside her, but he didn’t. Not yet, anyway. He was too busy kissing her senseless, making her arch her body just to feel every square inch of him she could. She ran her fingers down his back, marveling at the size of him, at the startling contrast between bigness and tenderness.
She inched her legs open wider, an invitation. She felt the tip of him graze her opening, and she arched her back, desperate to draw him inside her.
“Wait,” he murmured, pulling back.
She dug her nails into his shoulder blades. “Don’t you dare—”
“Relax,” he said, grinning as he planted a kiss on her forehead, then rolled away and reached for the nightstand. “Just grabbing protection.”
“Protection,” she repeated, startled to realize she’d almost forgotten. Hell, she was on the brink of forgetting her own name if he kept touching her like this. She watched him tear open the condom and roll it on and she wondered if she should do something more helpful than lying there like a woman waiting to be ravaged.
But she was a woman waiting to be ravaged. And he was exactly the man she wanted to do it.
He lowered himself over her again, and she noticed the careful way he carried his weight on his elbows, cautious not to crush her. But she wanted to be crushed. She wanted to feel all of him, the solid bulk of him pressing her back against the bed. She opened her legs again, and felt him slip between them like he’d always belonged there.
This time when she felt him graze her entrance, he didn’t draw back. Then he was inside her.
“Oh God,” she gasped as he slid in slowly, taking his time, letting her body adjust to the sensation of being invaded. Holy hell, the
man was huge. She hadn’t realized she’d closed her eyes until she opened them to see him looking down at her with an expression of dumbstruck nirvana.
“You feel so fucking good,” he whispered as he drew back slowly, then slid into her again. “Are you okay?”
“Okay?” It came out sounding like a cross between a gasp and a laugh, then turned into a groan as he slid in and out again. “Jesus, Schwartz—I’m about six hundred degrees beyond okay. I’m somewhere between bliss and I-think-my-brain-just-ruptured-with-pleasure.”
“Mmm,” he murmured, bending to kiss her as he moved in and out of her at a languid pace. “Try not to get brains on my good sheets.”
She could tell he was taking his time, being gentle for her benefit. But as his thrusts quickened and a furrow appeared between his brows, she knew neither of them could hold that pace for long. She dug her heels into the backs of his thighs, wishing she had spurs to really drive the message home. The thought of wearing spurs to bed made her giggle, but the giggle turned to a gasp when he thrust into her with a bit more force.
“Harder,” she cried, surprised the word escaped her lips, and even more surprised when he obliged. He drove into her with a force that slammed the headboard against the wall.
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t hurt me. You might hurt the drywall, but—”
“I’ll patch it,” he groaned, and slammed into her.
“God, yes!” Janelle arched into it, urging him on with her heels tight on the backs of his thighs. He moaned, quickening his pace again, the friction between their bodies making her dizzy with heat.
“Janelle, I won’t last long if you—”
“Do it!” she cried, feeling the bubble of her own release growing somewhere deep inside her. She closed her eyes tight, pressing her breasts to his chest and her clit to the hard wall of muscle where his body joined with hers.
Something exploded behind her eyelids and she cried out, rocking against him as the first spasm of pleasure gripped her, then another and another.
“Come with me,” she gasped, not sure where this dirty-talking version of herself had come from, but knowing she couldn’t stop the torrent of words or the spasms of pleasure or the pounding of his thrusts as he drove into her again.
“Janelle,” he groaned, then shuddered in her arms. She felt him moving inside her and lost track of where his spasms ended and her own began.
At last, he lay motionless on top of her. She could feel his breath coming fast and hard, and she wondered for a moment if he’d passed out.
Then he rolled away, pulling her with him so she lay cradled against his chest. They didn’t speak for what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only a few seconds. When Janelle drew back to look at him, he was smiling with his eyes closed.
“Janelle Rebecca Lambchop Sweet Pea Keebler,” he murmured, opening his eyes to look at her. “That was fucking incredible.”
She laughed and leaned down to kiss him. “I couldn’t agree more.”
…
Four hours later, Schwartz woke from a blissful dream of stars and rainbows and sunshine and fluffy fucking clouds to realize it wasn’t a dream at all.
Janelle was here. In his arms and in his bed, and he hadn’t been this happy about anything in years. Maybe ever.
He planted a kiss along her hairline, not meaning to wake her, but her eyes fluttered open and she smiled. “Good morning.”
“It’s actually three p.m. That’s what happens when you spend your morning running from a cougar and your afternoon fucking like rabbits.”
She yawned and rolled over, propping herself up on one elbow. “What do rabbits fuck like, exactly?” She slid her hand over his chest, making his skin tingle. “I’ve heard that expression before, but I’ve never understood what it meant.”
“You should be here in the spring when the wild jackrabbits are out in the meadow making bunny porn and doing their best to populate the planet.”
“Spring,” she murmured, her voice still sleepy. “I’ll bet it’s beautiful here in the spring.”
“Mmm,” he agreed, his brain still lingering on the way she’d felt tight and hot and yielding beneath him. Her hand was warm on his chest, and her whole body was pressed against his under the covers. How was it possible he wanted her again?
A soft rumble made him slide his hand over her belly. “Was that your stomach growling?”
She laughed, rolling away from him. “I’m starving, aren’t you?” She leaped out of bed, not waiting for an answer, and he savored the view of her naked backside walking away from him. “Wait right there,” she called. “One Pop-Tart smorgasbord coming right up.”
He thought about running to help her, but it wasn’t like it took two people to put Pop-Tarts in the toaster. Instead, he grabbed his phone off the nightstand and checked for any messages from his brothers.
Nothing. He fired off a quick text to Grant.
Anything new with Jacques?
He didn’t expect to hear back right away, since his brother was probably busy with whatever secret spy catcher duties the marines had him performing at Fort Lewis, so he was surprised to see a message pop up again quickly.
Nothing definitive, but Mac said something may be going down. Stay tuned. Will let you know as soon as I hear more.
Huh. Something may be going down? He thought about that for a moment, wavering between guardedness over what that might mean for Janelle and the thought that there’d been a whole lot of going down going on in his bed over the last few hours.
Grant probably didn’t need to know that.
Schwartz settled for typing, “Thanks,” and setting the phone aside. Something clattered out in the kitchen, and he listened as Janelle banged a cupboard shut.
“You need help out there?” he called.
“I’m making Pop-Tarts, not coq au vin,” she called. “Pretty sure I have it under control.”
A cupboard banged again, and he pictured her naked in his kitchen, stretching up to reach the plates on a high shelf. He had a sudden urge to see all that beautiful flesh on display in real life, so he rolled out of bed and lumbered out into the living room.
She turned to look at him, her face flushed from either the heat of the toaster or the beard burn he’d inflicted upon her all morning. He should probably apologize, but he found himself reaching for her instead.
She giggled and pulled two Pop-Tarts out of the toaster, nudging his hands away with her hip as she set the pastries on a plate. “I told you I had it handled.”
“I know,” he said, bending to kiss her as he circled his hands around her waist. “I needed to make sure you were handled.”
“You’ve been handling me all morning. Aren’t you hungry?”
“Absolutely.” He bent to kiss her neck, and she tasted so good, he continued downward until his lips found her breast. “Just not for food.”
She gasped as his tongue grazed her nipple, and she dropped the toaster pastries. One of them landed on his foot, but he didn’t take his mouth off her breast.
“God, you’re good at that,” she moaned.
“You just want me for my Pop-Tarts.”
“Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”
Schwartz laughed and cupped her backside, boosting her up onto the counter. Something crashed to the floor behind her and she gasped, “Milk,” before Schwartz cut off the rest of her words with a kiss.
She gave a little squeak of protest, then moaned as his mouth slid lower, then lower again. Something cold splashed against his toes, and he wondered if he might be the first man to go down on a woman while standing in a puddle of skim milk. He dipped his tongue inside her, delirious with the taste of her and the sensation of her nails digging into his scalp and threading through his hair.
“Oh!” she gasped as he slid a finger inside her, angling it to find that spot he’d already discovered made her cry out and writhe against him. She leaned back against the cupboard, giving him o
pen access to her body as he licked and stroked and felt her getting slicker by the second.
“Please,” she begged. “I want you inside me.”
“I am inside you,” he murmured, swirling his finger to make the point.
“The rest of you. Please, Schwartz,” she begged. “My purse is right there with a condom in the front pocket. Please.”
Her plea was more urgent this time, and Schwartz didn’t need to be asked again. He pushed aside the plate of Pop-Tarts, pushing aside his own reservations about doing this with the woman he was supposed to be protecting. There’d be time for regrets later. Much later.
He found the condom and slipped it on, then slipped inside her in one stroke just to hear her gasp of surprised pleasure.
“Oh, Jesus,” she groaned as he did it again, moving in and out of her as he bent to claim her mouth. She kissed him hard, her thighs clenching around him as she clawed at his back. He gripped the counter, but found himself with a fistful of Pop-Tart.
He let his palm glide down the length of her torso instead, savoring the fullness of her breast and the flare of her hip. He kissed his way down her throat and back up again, loving the way she writhed against him as he drove into her again.
“Schwartz, please!” she urged, and he smiled at the eagerness in her voice. He could never get tired of hearing his name uttered with that kind of hunger by a woman. Not just any woman. This woman.
God, she was wet. He couldn’t believe how good she felt, or the fact that he was doing this again after they’d been at it all morning. Hell, he was hardly twenty-one years old. Where had all this stamina come from?
“Pretty sure we’re going for an Olympic record here,” he said, drawing back and kissing her neck.
“An Olympic medal in sex.” She giggled, then gasped as he slid nearly all the way out of her. “You’ve already got bronze. And silver. And ohmygod gold.”
He plunged in deep, sheathing himself to the root as she arched up to meet him. She tightened her legs around him, then opened her eyes and grinned. “You feel so damn good.”
“So do you,” he whispered, moving into her again.
He loved having her like this, not worrying about crushing her beneath his weight. She was tight and slick around him, and he quickened his pace as he felt her whole body go tense. He could tell she was close. Hell, he was almost there himself. He drove into her and heard a plate crash to the floor.
