The feel of his laughter while my body was plastered to the back of his was almost indescribable.
Almost indescribable. There were two words that illustrated it perfectly.
Fucking. Delectable.
Grabbing my hands and placing a quick, unbelievably sweet, confusing as all fuck kiss on my palm, he wrapped them tighter around his body and shifted the bike back into gear.
I only screamed a little as the light turned green and he took off like a bat out of hell.
And it had nothing to do with being scared of the ride.
THE RUBBER BAND of my sanity could only take so much strain, so when we pulled in at his house and he lovingly lifted my weight off of his bike with his hands on my hips, caressing my sides as he pulled away in a manner that was definitely more than friendly, I broke.
Running my hands through my hair, I stepped away from him before throwing my arms out to my sides with my normal flair for drama.
“Fuck, Danny!” I yelled. “What are you trying to do to me? I’m about one breakdown short of being committed from all of your fucking mixed signals!”
“Well, you’ll look good in the jacket. White’s a good color on you,” he deadpanned, obviously gunning for World’s Most Annoying Human Being with all he had.
I had to admit, that was hilarious, but I was about to lose my mind.
Days and days I had waited patiently for him to bring up the topic we so desperately needed to discuss. To give me a definite sign of which side of the fence on which he was settled.
And he had given me nothing.
Nothing but fun talks, sweet words, and confusing as shit, innocently flirty touches.
I needed to know where we stood. I needed to know if he was going to give me everything I wanted and needed or if I was going to need therapy, and ice cream, and lots and lots of vodka in order to find closure.
It was official.
I wasn’t starting to break. I wasn’t at my breaking point.
I was broken.
Putting all of my pent up emotion into six words, a glossy sheen of tears coating the turquoise and white of my eyes, I snapped, “I will effing throat punch you!” My voice was so loud and so tortured that it came out about as raggedy as Ann and Andy.
Losing all self control, my arm cocked back, and I was seconds away from making my threat a reality.
The next thing I knew, I was flush up against him, being crushed to his body by the brutal strength of his muscular arms, and his lips were crashing down on mine, my ass pressing up against the seat of his parked motorcycle.
Judging by the force with which his lips hit mine, I expected the kiss to be ravenous, eager, and all together out of control.
Instead, Danny’s lips slowed, their rosy, plump skin tickling its way to the very outside edge of my cupid’s bow. I could feel the rapid beat of his heart deep within his chest, and the air flow in and out of my mouth swirled with the turbulence of his varying breaths.
His scruff encased lips moved languidly, even lovingly, over every millimeter, making sure they didn’t miss even one minuscule part of mine, a faint tickle from his facial hair just barely registering on the surrounding skin.
My eyes fluttered, and I could practically feel my pupils dilating behind their lowered lids.
This was it. This was right.
So fucking right.
My body’s weight settled into his, and his hands caressed my arms, sides, hips, and jaw like they’d spent their whole life waiting to do it.
Pressure both soft and deliberate, exerted over each and every goose bump that rose out of the depth of my golden skin, brought me the pleasure I’d longed for and imagined in each and every one of my fantasies.
And no, I’m not shitting you. If felt that good.
His fingertips finally done exploring, his lips finally getting their fill of soft, lingering touches, he used his tongue to part the seam of my lips, just barely running the very tip of it along the inside rim of both the top and bottom rosy pillows.
The taste of him assaulted my mouth, minty and fresh despite the time since brushing.
I worked hard for it, my body being trapped between Danny and the bike making it almost impossible to move, and got up onto my tip toes so that I could wrap my arms around his broad shoulders.
Heat radiated off of his body, and I could feel his swollen, hard arousal pressing against my abdomen as his tongue finally connected with mine, just barely skimming the surface of my taste buds.
God, he wanted me.
And I sure as hell wanted him.
Breathing had become labor intensive, all of my limbs felt heavy and sluggish, and without Danny’s support I would have been a gooey mess on the floor.
But with all of that, I still had enough mental faculties to know that I had to get a few things straight.
Sleeping with him knowing that he had real feelings for me versus sleeping with him based on hormones in the heat of the moment could be the difference between a celebratory drink and depression fueled alcohol poisoning.
Plus, I could tell he wanted me, and wanted me right now. I could feel it like a giant arrow poking me in the stomach.
Or a fucking police baton.
It was giant. And a wee bit scary.
In other words, I could definitely put a big, fat, bubble letter check mark next to J is for Junk.
I couldn’t keep myself from giving him a little taste of his own medicine.
A lesson in delayed gratification.
Reluctantly pulling his lips from mine, I whispered, “Danny.”
When denied the connection with my lips, he just moved on to my jaw, kissing his way down it and then spending a little extra time at the sensitive spot behind my ear.
I repeated his name trying to get his attention. “Danny.”
This time he responded, but it came out more like a simple recognition than an indication that he was patiently waiting for me to continue further. “Hales.”
I repeated his name, only to get mine back in return once again.
“Great,” I managed to gasp out as his lips moved down to my collar bone, and his hands at my hips lifted me so that my ass was planted on the seat of his bike. “We know each others’ names. But I actually have more of a point than that.”
He groaned and pulled away, focusing his lust filled eyes on mine for the first time in the last few minutes.
God, if I thought they were beautiful before, filled with desire for me they were like the damn Sistine chapel.
Definitely national representative material.
“Dan-o, you are the one who told me I should stick to the list, and you are not the list,” I explained.
The truth was, I didn’t give two peanut sized shits about the fucking list. I knew you didn’t really base love off of some God-awful preset list. But I sure as hell wanted to mess with him. And I wanted to hear why he had been so adamant about the stupid thing.
His face turned hard, and suddenly, I didn’t know if messing with him had been such a good idea.
“I am the goddamn list, Hales,” he ground out, his fingers tightening their hold on my waist with every word he spoke. “I’m fucking perfect for you.”
A sane woman would have taken that, run with it, and gotten on with the lovemaking, pleasure filled portion of the evening.
But I ask you, was I sane?
Well, as it turns out, not entirely.
“Excuse me,” I said pushing his chest away with half-hearted effort. “Mr. I Am the List. Just look at your name.” As I said my next words, I made sure to make it sound like they tasted bad rolling off of my tongue. “Dan Fucking Smith.”
“Fuck my stupid name. I’ll be Roper, or Eagle, or Mary Jane, or Gandalf the fucking wizard. Hales, my name can be whatever the fuck you want it to be. As long as when you say it, you’re calling for me.”
“But you said I should stick to the list. You made fun of me for it!” I fake protested, a small satisfied smile making one corner of my mout
h start to creep upward.
He was finally waving me in, removing the giant stop sign, and confirming that he wanted me for real.
For fun times and dates and late night phone calls, just like before, but more. And he wanted to be more than that freakishly awful word “friends”.
“Yeah, baby. That’s because I didn’t want you to end up with whatever-that-guy’s-name-was. I would have made up some other shit to keep you from giving him a shot if he’d had a better name.”
Okay, this was taking a turn. My vitals were becoming erratic at the thought that he may have felt this way for me the whole time and yet kept me at arms length. If there had been a nurse present, she would have been screaming, “BP’s through the roof!”
“You, of all people, remember his name was Tom,” I pushed, prodding at him with the knowledge of his hyperactive memory.
“You’re right. I do remember Tom, the pleat wearing asshole who eye-fucked you every time you turned your head away. But the memory of him is so insignificant compared to the memory of you, that it doesn’t even register,” he stressed, throwing my legs around his hips and holding me to keep me from tipping back and falling off of the bike.
My chest was heaving, my breathing was ragged, and I was having a hard time keeping up. But Danny didn’t give me time to think. He just kept talking.
“I remember everything about you from that night. The way the purple tank top looked against your skin, the way it made your eyes even more vividly blue, and the citrusy way you smelled. The way you respect your mom with words and actions, as unique as those may be, keeping one eye on her the entire time in order to look out for her safety. The way you looked me directly in the eye with unwavering confidence, and I even remember the exact words you spoke. I never ever fucking forget. I never knew how good that could be, how much of a fucking good thing it was, until the night you came into The Cabin. Before that, it had been nothing but a curse.”
“It was lavender,” I corrected asininely, my eyes searching his handsome face and at the same time memorizing each and every feature.
His face registered a healthy amount of shock just before he blurted, “What?”
“The tank top was lavender.”
“Baby, I don’t speak girl. If it’s not in ROY G BIV, I don’t know it. It was fucking purple.”
I was this close to pointing out that the purple in ROY G BIV was violet, but judging by the look on his face, I knew I should stick to the far more important issues. I could give him hell about this later.
Still reeling, I breathed, “But you made me leave, you pushed me away, you—”
“I did all of those things, baby doll. I’m a dick and a douche and I’m both of those on a whole other level. But can we please discuss this when I have more blood in my brain than my dick? Because right now, the blood supply is definitely down below.”
Again with the questions not so subtly phrased as demands.
Danny was done talking for now, and try as I might, I couldn’t find it in me to complain even one more syllable.
He took my silence for the agreement that it was, and once again, the tender flesh of his lips met mine. His tongue didn’t waste any time before diving back inside, and I gave him absolutely no resistance, actively participating and letting my tongue dance easily with his.
I wanted my body to fuse together with his, and at the pressure he was holding me to him, it just might happen.
His hands slid easily and tenderly from the sliver of exposed flesh at my hips, up my sides, and settled on my neck at the junction of my jaw. His thumbs positioned directly under my chin, lifting and tilting my head, changing the angle at which our mouths met and allowing even deeper, sweeter access.
God, it felt so effing good.
I didn’t even try to stop the desire roughened moan that tumbled up my throat and directly into his waiting mouth. In response, his tongue stroked deeper and slower, cherishing every single facet of my mouth while I memorized the different tastes my receptors pulled off of all the different parts of his tongue.
Danny groaned and pushed his arousal into me, making me wish like I had never wished before that I was wearing something with “easy access”.
Danny’s mind must have been on the same wavelength because he managed to stand me up, his mouth never leaving mine, never even pausing in its ministrations. His tan fingers went directly to the front of my jeans working the button, expertly enough to confirm previous experience, and smoothly gliding the zipper down its track.
His mouth still worked mine, his every move slow, thorough, and worshiping, but his hands positioned my arms, pulling them to a tighter grip around his neck, just before lifting me off of the ground without warning.
My legs dangled, and my first reaction was to wrap them around his waist to mirror my arms, but he pushed them back, giving my ass a deliberate squeeze before pushing my thighs down and together again.
It didn’t take long after that to know why when his hands went to my hips, skating along my exposed flesh, and then using his fingers to delve into the inside rim of not only my jeans but my panties.
His fingertips flexed into the newly discovered flesh and then rubbed it, giving me what I guessed was time to prepare.
But I didn’t really need time. I was prepared.
So effing prepared.
Thick hands slid down, separating fabric from flesh, loosening it and finally releasing it from the hold of my hips.
Pants and underwear together slid down my legs, Danny’s hands following their journey and assisting them whenever they hung up.
Using the toe to heel method, I maneuvered out of my cowboy boots to clear the way for the denim and lace trying to make a smooth exit.
Our breaths were mingling, even acting as the only supply of air as our eager mouths hadn’t separated yet. I wanted to use my hands to remove his clothes in kind, but they were kind of the only thing holding me up at the time.
Danny must have sensed my eagerness, or maybe it was his own, and lifted my legs by the back of my thighs, spreading me open and pressing me up against the rough denim of his jean covered shaft.
With almost comical ease, he moved us as one, throwing his leg over his bike to straddle it, my legs falling into position naturally over his thighs.
I couldn’t believe we were doing this, here, for the first time, on his motorcycle. I wasn’t even really sure it was logistically possible, to have full penetration sex on a motorcycle without severely injuring oneself, but I was going to give it one hundred percent effort.
At least I wasn’t in any danger of burning my bare legs on the hot exhaust pipes. Danny was facing the front, but I was “riding” backward, and my legs were safely draped over his.
His skilled tongue still worked my mouth, never losing the connection with my tongue for more than a fraction of a second. Using caution, I removed my hands from around his neck, sliding them down his firm chest, weaving the pattern of his rippled abs, and then finally following the lines of his “V” down to the front of his jeans. I worked his button, getting lucky and getting it through the hole on the first try, and then slid his zipper down, being careful not to catch his huge shaft in it.
I couldn’t imagine anything that would ruin the mood more than having to make a trip to the hospital because I accidentally caught his dick in his zipper.
A story for the grandkids for sure.
His shaft stretched outward, like it was reaching for me now that it was free of its denim cage. Accepting the invitation, I reached down, tucked my hand inside his boxers, and wrapped my fingers around him, swirling my thumb around the velvety tip and pulling him out.
When I made contact, Danny’s fingertips tightened almost violently into my bare hips and a rough, desperate, lust-filled groan poured right into my mouth and vibrated against my tongue.
Finally separating our mouths, I pulled back just enough to look down and see myself naked and splayed open only inches away from his cock.
I ha
d never needed anyone as much as I needed him right then, my desire tightening in my belly and making my inner muscles clench with anticipation.
“Danny,” I pleaded, my hips subconsciously flexing toward him, eager to join our bodies in the ultimate intimate connection.
“In my pocket,” he instructed me following another groan, not bothering to chat me up with unnecessary small talk.
Reaching into his pocket, his pants only out of the way the physically necessary amount, my fingers encountered the tell tale foil packet and pulled it out.
I moved to rip it open, but I sent him a questioning look, wondering if he carried one all the time or if he just thought he was going to get lucky tonight.
He read my question correctly, always having an innate ability to delve into my brain and come out knowing what I was thinking. “I’ve had one with me every time I’ve seen you, baby doll,” he explained, his hand coming up to cup one side of my jaw, his thumb sweeping sweetly across my cheek while he looked me straight in the eyes. “Didn’t know when my resolve and self-control were going to crumble, but I knew it would happen at some point.”
I had a feeling that statement was going to take some processing, but I couldn’t lift myself out of the fog to do it now. I needed to connect with him physically, and when I was done, I could put the pieces of the mental puzzle together.
I rolled the condom on him, never taking my eyes off his, his burning into mine so strong I thought I might combust.
Bringing his hand at my jaw down to join his other one at my naked hips, he pressed the tips of his fingers in, the moderately rough pads scraping pleasurably along my skin as they slid down and around, cupping my ass and lifting me up gracefully.
I rested one hand on his shoulder for support, and then reached down between us, positioning him so that he was perfectly lined up with my opening.
Part of me expected him to bring me down onto him in one swift motion, but I shouldn’t have. Danny knew me. As short of a time as we had known each other, he still knew me better than any other man ever had.
And he knew that I would want it slow and sensual, allowing for me to savor every inch of him as it filled me.
A Is for Alpha Male Page 19
