by Roz Lee
A scrap of sanity wedged into her consciousness. Then he took her left breast in his hand, and she couldn’t think of anything other than the sexiest man on the planet was touching her. It had to be a dream.
His fingers massaged the soft mound. He pinched her nipple, and a bolt of lightning shot straight to her womb.
No dream. Shocking reality.
“Let me see you.” His warm breath caressed her ear.
She reached for the tie at her waist, but before she could loosen the simple knot, his fingers closed over hers, guiding her hands to her sides.
“No. Keep your hands right here until I tell you to move.”
Clare watched in the mirror as he grasped the collar of her robe and gently peeled the garment over her shoulders, exposing her breasts to his heated gaze. Her nipples pebbled, and her breasts grew heavy.
He stood behind her, his hands on the bunched fabric at her elbows. “My God, Clare. You are….” He shook his head. “Beautiful. Magnifica. Glorioso.”
The blended romantic languages that were his heritage strummed at her heartstrings.
“The words aren’t enough, bella.”
She glanced at the reflection of her breasts then up to his face. His lips were parted, his eyes dilated and fixed on her chest. A fire burned in the dark orbs, tempting her to believe.
“They’re just breasts,” she asserted. Maybe a little above average in size, but nothing special.
“No.” He shook his head then reached around her to cup each one in the palm of his hands. Heat seared through the delicate skin. He held her breasts as if they were precious possessions. “They’re femininity. They’re a symbol of womanhood. They’re a wonder of nature—a God-given gift meant to entice and nurture.”
She had never felt as cherished as she did in that moment. This gorgeous specimen of a man thought she was beautiful.
“Put your hands where mine are,” he instructed, guiding them into place. “One day soon, I hope you’ll offer your breasts to me, but for now, just hold them. I like to see them in your hands.”
Holding her breasts felt awkward until she caught a glimpse of Antonio’s rapt expression in the mirror. She’d hold them all day, every day, if he would continue to look at her with desire in his eyes. His hands fell to the tie at her waist, and his fingers slowly and expertly worked the knot loose. Her robe fell open, revealing her worst features. She closed her eyes. She couldn’t bear to see the look of disgust on his face when he saw her round belly and plump thighs.
He splayed his hands across her abdomen then moved lower, trailing fire everywhere he touched.
“Open your eyes, Clare.”
She shook her head and bit her lower lip. His thumbs brushed her mound, and his fingers rested on her upper thighs.
“Okay then. Let me tell you what I see.”
She wanted to run, to tear herself out of his arms, and yank her robe closed. She wanted desperately to hide from Antonio, from the world, from herself. For a moment, she had believed she was beautiful, but he was asking too much of her. Hot tears formed behind her eyelids. The way he held her, his arms trapping her elbows where she had no choice but to cradle her own breasts, made it impossible to wipe the tears away. They slid from the corners of her eyes, and she added shame to her growing list of humiliations. Knowing he was a member of Bases Loaded seemed trivial now. No way would he and his friends want a cow like her.
“Please, let me go,” she begged.
“Not until you open your eyes and hear me out.”
“I can’t,” she whimpered.
His hands stroked her belly. “You can, and you will.”
He continued to caress her. His roughened hands abraded her soft skin and made her weak with wanting him. His heat surrounded her like a warm blanket, enticing her to give in to his demands.
“I’ve never seen such beauty,” he crooned, his voice stroking, arousing, as surely as his hands. “You’re everything a woman is meant to be.”
His hands skimmed her hips, down to her thighs, and up over her mound. “I’m just a mortal man, and your body calls to mine. You’re Eve. A woman built for a man. Built to pleasure a man, to bear his children.”
His fingers slipped between her feminine folds and stole the last shreds of her self-respect.
“Please,” she begged, but for what, she didn’t know. For more? Or for him to let her go?
“You have the body of a Madonna, and there isn’t a man in the world who doesn’t want to have that in his bed.” His fingers played with her clit. He pressed his lips to her bare shoulder and plunged his middle finger inside her.
Her eyes popped open. The scene in the mirror made her knees buckle.
Antonio supported her effortlessly. He rocked his hips against her buttocks making the hard ridge of his erection impossible to ignore. “Feel what you do to me, and to every red-blooded male who sees you. You’re a desirable woman, Clare, and I want you more than I’ve ever wanted any woman.”
She believed him, if only for that moment in time, because it suited her to. He nudged her feet farther apart and inserted a second finger into her slick channel.
“Let me give you pleasure,” he pleaded unnecessarily.
She was past rational thought, past the ability to refuse him anything no matter what the cost later on. What he was doing to her went beyond every fantasy she had ever had about being with him, and there was no way she would end it now. She spread her legs and rocked against his palm.
“That’s it, babe. Take what you want. Let it happen.”
A third finger stretched her. She groaned and let her head fall against his shoulder in surrender. He pressed his lips to her neck, scraped his teeth across the vein pulsing there, and she shattered. Unintelligible sounds escaped her throat. Antonio murmured incomprehensible things in her ear while her body convulsed and poured liquid love over his hand. And through it all, he held her in the shelter of his arm wrapped around her waist, cloaking her with his heat and strength.
She slowly became aware of her surroundings and that his hand cupped her now, gently massaging the tender flesh between her legs. Embarrassment washed over her like a blazing sunset. She grabbed at his arms, trying to dislodge them only to have him tighten his grip.
“No. Let me hold you a minute longer, Clare.”
She didn’t dare look in the mirror, choosing to keep her eyes tightly shut, acquiescing to his demand because she had no choice. Her weak struggles were nothing compared to his strength.
“I’m truly humbled, bella. Thank you for letting me see you this way.”
They stood there, silent but for their labored breathing, until her knees ceased to tremble and her skin became chilled. He eased the robe onto her shoulders and deftly retied the sash at her waist before letting his hands come to rest on her hips.
Braver now that she was covered, she raised her gaze once again to the mirror. He peered over her shoulder.
“I don’t want you to doubt your beauty ever again,” he said. “I wanted you the first moment I laid eyes on you, and I’m going to have you.”
“Antonio….”
“Shh. No more protests. We’ll take it slow. We won’t do anything you don’t want to do.” He turned her to face him. “Say you’ll spend time with me. Say you’ll give us a chance.”
He tugged her closer, and she shuffled her feet to stand between his. When his arms closed around her, she pressed her cheek to his chest. His heartbeat thumped out a steady, reassuring rhythm. Her hands came up to embrace him as naturally as if they did it every day. She took her first deep breath since Antonio appeared at her car window earlier in the day. Beneath his understated woodsy cologne, he smelled of what she supposed was pure testosterone. Saying no to him wasn’t an option.
“Okay.”
Chapter Eight
Two days had passed since their spa date, and Clare hadn’t heard a word from Antonio until a few minutes ago. Why wouldn’t he just leave her alone? She’d shown him more of herself,
literally and figuratively, than she had any other man—ever. She’d shown him enough to send him running back to New York, she thought.
But he hadn’t run. He was on his way up to her office. Probably to say goodbye. Well, goodbye, yourself, Antonio Ramirez. Go find yourself a skinny-assed actress to play the part of your wife. I’m through playing your games.
She shoved random clutter into her file drawer and silenced the metronome tick-tocking away on her desk. She never should have answered the call, but when his name appeared on the caller ID, she had practically gone into cardiac arrest. She’d been starved for the sound of his voice. Couldn’t get the feel of his hands on her out of her head. Couldn’t breathe without missing his scent.
She had just crammed the latest set of ungraded test papers into her briefcase when he filled her doorway. One look at him and she realized she wanted nothing more than to play every game in the book with him. If only he would ask.
Leaning against the jamb, his arms crossed over his chest and one knee bent, he looked like a billboard for sex. Want sex? Call-800-Antonio. Warmth flooded her system, and she swallowed hard.
“You done, babe?”
She nodded, not trusting her voice.
He straightened and took a step inside, closing the door behind him. He folded his hands behind his back and leaned his shoulders on the door. No one wore a T-shirt like Antonio Ramirez. The fabric wasn’t tight, but it clung to his hard chest and abs. He shifted slightly, drawing her attention lower. Tight jeans left no doubt as to his state of arousal.
“I tried to stay away. I tried to tell myself you needed time, that I could wait to have you, but I was lying to myself.” One hand moved to the doorknob. “I want you. Right here. Right now.” His index finger and thumb closed over the lock mechanism. “If you feel the same way, say yes, and I’ll lock the door.”
Oh, God. Oh, God. Oh, God. Did she feel the same? Hell, yes! Her body throbbed with want and need.
Her mind raced through practicalities and details. Here? What if a student comes by? The hell with office hours. Underwear? Not sexy, but decent. She’d shaved and trimmed this morning—thank God. It was now or never. How many times would she get an offer like this? Never again, she was sure.
She clenched her hands into fists in her lap and squared her shoulders. So what if he only wanted a fuck buddy until he found someone more to his liking in Dallas? She’d have to be insane to turn down an opportunity like this.
“Yes,” she said.
Before she finished the single syllable, he set the lock and pushed away from the door.
Her heart leapt into her throat. This had to be a dream. Maybe she’d nodded off and her subconscious was having a field day. She dug her fingernails into her palms until the pain told her she was awake.
His legs made short work of her small office. Her feet shuffled, spinning her chair to face him as he rounded her desk. Antonio leaned over and placed his hands on the arms of her chair, boxing her in and surrounding her with his now familiar scent. Desire pulsed through her system.
“Don’t move,” he said, sinking to his knees in front of her. He parted her legs and filled the space with his body. A shaft of late afternoon light crowned his head, burnishing his blue-black hair with gold highlights. “How much time do we have?”
Her brain scrambled for an answer. “Um…. My office hours are almost over, so…as long as we want?”
His smile almost melted her panties. “Oh, babe, you don’t know how happy I am to hear that.”
He cupped her knees then slid beneath her skirt, up to where her underwear banded her thighs. Clare stared at the bunched fabric covering his hands. So close.
“These have to go.” His thumbs brushed cotton, found the elastic at the top, and tugged. Somehow, he lifted her and slipped the conservative garment to mid-thigh without her help. Then they landed on top of her desk in a twisted heap, and he was right back between her knees, only this time his fingers teased the short curls beneath her skirt.
“Your skin is silk. I could touch you all day, Clare, but I need to see you. The other day, at the spa…I can’t get it out of my mind. Can I see you like that again?”
“Yes.” A slight nod accompanied the whispered word.
“Unbutton your blouse for me, babe.” His thumbs pressed between her legs then gently pulled, opening the top of her slit. If he could see through the skirt fabric, he would see her clit peeking out, begging for attention.
She lifted trembling hands to the top button on her blouse. Dazed, she did as he said. One by one, the buttons slid free. Cool air rushed in and caused her heated torso to break out in goose bumps. When she reached the last button above the skirt’s waistband, he said, “Pull it open for me. Let me see.”
His hands were still beneath her skirt, lazily toying with her folds, her clit, driving her insane while his gaze roamed every inch of exposed skin above. Her clit pulsed and throbbed.
“Now the bra. Push it up. We’ll unhook it later.”
She worked the fabric upward so her freed breasts were framed by her bra on the top, her open blouse on the sides and the waistband of her skirt below. Cool air hit her nipples, and they tightened into hard points. Heat crept from her chest to her face. She closed her eyes and bit her bottom lip while her hands gripped the chair arms as if she were about to be launched into space.
Lord, what was she doing? She’d had her share of horny professor fantasies, but never anything that came close to this. Antonio had trapped her within his force field, almost had her believing the things he said to her.
“You are so fucking beautiful, babe.”
Pretty little lies.
Moving quickly, he took her right breast in his mouth, swirling the nipple with his tongue, suckling hard. She arched her back, encouraging him to take all he wanted. She held onto the chair in a death grip while he lavished attention on one breast, then the other. He seemed to know just what to do to make her lose her mind. She was wet, drenched between her legs. His fingers found her, plunged deep, retreated, and plunged again.
She writhed against his hand, sliding her ass across the seat toward him until she was about to fall off the edge. He groaned, sending a shiver of pure carnal lust from her breast to her pussy.
She ached for him. Needed more than fingers and a solo orgasm. She didn’t think twice. She begged.
“Please.”
He released her breast with an audible pop at the same time he withdrew his fingers leaving her empty and beyond desperate. Before she could muster a protest, he stood, lifting her as if she were a feather.
“Got to have you,” he said.
Supporting her with one hand, he shoved her chair out of the way and lowered her to the floor.
God, the man could move fast. Home plate to first base in three point nine seconds. He stood, stripped off his jeans and boots, yanked his shirt over his head, and dropped to his knees between her splayed legs, wearing nothing but his socks and a pair of white cotton briefs. He worked her skirt up to her waist and sat back on his heels.
“I’m speechless,” he said. “Tell me you want this.”
He was speechless? He had a body every woman dreamed of—all hard planes and tight skin over defined muscles. Flat, dark nipples punctuated powerful pecs. His ribcage, wide at his chest, tapered to a slim waist and hips that would fit perfectly between her legs. She’d never wanted anything or anyone more in her life. He made her feel reckless and wanton, and the desire in his eyes made her feel beautiful. If he never looked at her that way again she would take this moment and cherish it forever.
“You better have a condom.” She’d have to kill him if he didn’t. Where that bit of sanity came from, she didn’t know.
He reached for his jeans, fished a foil packet out of his pocket, and shoved his underwear down his thighs. His erection sprang free. Her mouth watered. He rolled the sheath on with the ease of a man who had plenty of experience and not an ounce of self-consciousness.
The moment
of sanity was gone.
Clare lifted her hips in invitation.
She wanted him inside her.
Now.
His hands slipped beneath her thighs, lifting and spreading her wide open. Then he was there, pushing into her, stretching her, filling her. The angle allowed her to watch his cock disappear inside her, one thick, pulsing inch at a time. She forgot to breathe until he gave one final push and seated himself fully.
She arched her neck and drew in a deep breath. He lowered her ass to the floor, bracing above her, his forearms on either side of her head. His heat enveloped her and his weight anchored her to the solid reality of his presence. His gaze met hers, and her heart lodged in her throat. Fingers combed through her hair, fanning it out around her in a move so tender it almost broke her heart.
“God, babe. I…you…ah, shit! I’ve got to move.” His voice was tight, revealing the energy he expended to take it slow.
She didn’t want slow. She wanted hard and fast, and wild. She wanted him. But she couldn’t say that, wouldn’t wish this experience away so quickly. But if he didn’t move soon, she would die.
“Do it, Antonio. Oh, God, do it.”
Sex had never been like this. Ever. The man had super human control. He flexed his hips, eased out of her as if it was the last thing he wanted to do. Then he plunged back in, hard, the way she craved. She shifted her gaze to the ugly underside of her desk, counted fossilized wads of gum in an effort to keep from coming. It was too soon. Once he had his fat girl fuck, it would be all over, so she darned sure wasn’t going to come after only a few strokes.
“I don’t know how much longer I can hold out, babe.”
Disappointment seared like a firebrand in her chest. She wanted to beg him to make it last, but one look at his face, and she couldn’t stop her own release. Pinpricks of heat radiated out from her womb all the way to her toes and fingertips. Her body tensed then the rocket ship she’d been on since he stepped into her office exploded off the launch pad, taking her into an alternate universe full of streaking stars and exploding planets.
