The Tycoon

by Anna Jeffrey

  He leaned into her and his mouth devoured hers as down there, his fingers combed into her wet curls and found her opening. He drew out her wetness. His fingers stroked her layers. He gently sucked her nipple, sending an arc of sensation straight to the core of her sex, then soothed the action by taking the tip of her breast full into his mouth. She teetered on the edge of release, wanting it, needing it.

  Her legs dangling over the counter’s edge hindered him. She tilted back on her elbows, lifted her knees and planted her heels on the counter, offering him access to her wet, swollen sex. He followed her back, leaning over her, still sucking her nipples and kissing and licking her breasts. His finger delved inside her, found a place so sensitive that a shot of pleasure curled her toes. Orgasm came, sudden and powerful from deep in her belly. An outcry raced up her throat, but he muffled it with his mouth.

  Even after he withdrew his finger, her deep muscles continued to contract, shrieking for the empty sanctum to be filled. “Please,” she panted. “You have to—”

  “What?” he murmured, moving his mouth down. “Tell me what you want…”

  “I don’t know…Just don’t stop…”

  Her skirt had wadded around her waist. He pushed it up and dipped his tongue into her navel. She helplessly watched him trail kisses over her belly and suck little bites of her into his mouth, the dual sensations of seeing and feeling making her so hot she thought she might ignite. She squirmed and lifted her hips.

  In one quick motion, his hands peeled off her stockings, grasped her calves and hooked her knees over his shoulders. He nuzzled into her sex, his late day stubble rasping her tender flesh, his tongue making firm sweeps up the center of her sex, but avoiding the greedy little bud where she wanted it most. A seething volcano threatened inside her and she could think of nothing but the next orgasm. “Drake, now…now…please…”

  His hands slid up the backs of her thighs and he pushed her knees high and wide. On a gasp, she fell back, the granite cold on her bare back. His tongue slid deeply inside her and a spume of new sensation burst all over her. His tongue moved in an out n rhythmic thrusts. He suckled rhythmically, laved madly. Her clit had become a throbbing ball of flame. It strained forward, screaming for relief. She clawed at the countertop. “OhGoddon’tstop…Don’tstop”

  He didn’t. She panted, she whined, sounds she had never heard herself make crawled out of her throat. “I have to come, Drake….I have to come…” She grabbed his head, clutched fistfuls of his hair, wallowed in the wanton pleasure that had taken control of her existence.

  His mouth moved up and he drew the sensitive flesh full into his mouth. Starbursts exploded behind her eyes. She cried out. Her hips tried to hitch, but he held her thighs firmly, tenderly sucking and swirling his tongue while she came and came and came. When she could stand no more, she struggled upright and fought him away.

  He caught her hands and drew her up and into his arms, enveloping her, holding her head against his chest. “It’s okay, okay…”

  She was shaking and whimpering, in tears. “No…’Snot okay….’Snever happened to me before.”

  He stroked her hair away from her face, kissed her lips. “What, sweetheart? You can tell me.”

  “Over and over like that. No one’s ever——”

  “That’s a shame….My God. You’re sweeter than ripe fruit.” And as if to prove it, he covered her mouth with his for a long, slow tongue kiss.

  But his tongue wasn’t enough. Now, she could think of nothing else but the hot hard thing

  she had held in her hand filling her. His tongue wasn’t enough. Surely, he didn’t intend to leave her with this emptiness. She pulled back and looked into his face. “I need—I want to...”

  “I know, sweetheart.” He caressed her cheek with shaking fingers. “I know. I want the same thing….You on the pill?”

  “Unh-unh,” she answered weakly.

  “’Sokay. No problem.”

  He slid his hands under her bottom. “Can you put your legs around me?”

  “Uh-huh. Just hurry.” Still clinging to his shoulders, she locked her ankles behind his back, pressed her wet sex against his bare belly and buried her face in his shoulder.

  “That’s it, baby. Just hang on now.” He lifted her, carried her out of the kitchen and up a hallway.

  Then they were in a bedroom beside a huge bed. Her first thought was it looked even bigger than king-size, but it probably wasn’t. Low light shone from a table lamp beside the bed and the covers were turned back. For a fleeting second, she wondered when he had come into this room and done that.

  He gently laid her back onto the cool sheets, then moved away.

  Her eyes fluttered closed. She lay there, her palms open beside her head, her legs parted in shameless invitation. He had drained her of strength, driven her mad. She didn’t know how many times she had come, yet all she could think of was doing it again with his hard thickness inside her.

  A drawer opened, pocket change and a belt buckle jangled. Something rustled. Then he was back, hovering over her. The roughness of his starched jeans brushed the inside of her thighs. He still had his pants on? She opened her eyes. His face loomed only inches above hers, his eyes dark and serious, the set of his mouth grim. A thick vein throbbed on the side of his neck. She ran her hands across his shoulders, down his muscular arms. “I want you inside me….So much,” she whispered.

  His gaze locked on hers, he reached between them and found her opening with his fingers, circled and stroked, moved his fingers in and out, making her shudder. She had never been so wet, so ready. Finally, she felt the smooth head of his penis poised to enter. Wide. Hot. Like a burning coal. She couldn’t remember ever wanting it as much as she wanted it now, but her body involuntarily stiffened. After so long without sex, she expected pain.

  “Relax, baby….I’m just gonna…”

  “It’s…it’s been a long time….”

  “I won’t hurt you. I’ll be easy…”

  The head of him slid past her tight muscle with an imaginary pop and instead of pain, her whole world stopped on an exquisite note of bliss. Her deprived muscles clutched him as if they wanted to never let him go. “Oohh, God,” she breathed.

  A throaty grunt came from him. He withdrew and ducked his head, watching himself pull out and push into her again, then again, stretching her an inch at a time, taking a lifetime, until at last she felt the thick shaft all the way up inside her, filling every inch of her, as if their bodies had been molded for each other. He gave another deep groan and a shiver passed over his shoulders. He held himself still, looking down at her with a quirky half-smile tipping one corner of his mouth.

  She smiled up at him. “Oh, wow,” she said softly. “It fits.”

  “Did you think it wouldn’t?”

  “You felt so big in the kitchen.” She flexed her vaginal muscles against him, gripped his

  sinewy shoulders with her hands, lifted her head and kissed him. “Make me come again.”

  “Greedy girl,” he mumbled roughly.

  Greedy wasn’t the word. She was beside herself. If he didn’t start moving, she might surely expire from want. His head lowered and his lips brushed hers, then he began a slow in and out. The easy rhythm only added to the maddening knot of tension that had already coiled in her belly again.

  “I’m close,” he ground out, his jaw clenched. “Hard too long…”

  He braced himself on his elbows and began to rock. She found his rhythm, burying her face against his neck, hugging his hips with her thighs, pressing her heels beneath his jeans pockets. He picked up the pace. In. And in. And in.

  She sensed his control slipping away and soon he was hammering, his breath soughing. His thick shaft seared her starved channel with glorious friction, the root of him rasped there where she needed it.

  He hooked an arm behind her left knee, pushed it high and wide and slid deeper, driving hard and fast and steadily. She soared up and up and up, until she shattered. Her deep muscles
pulled at him in quick contractions. Like the tide, release washed through her. Her neck arched and her mouth fell open in a silent scream.

  Then, once…twice…three times….She eagerly absorbed his thrusts, clung to him, holding him through his rapture. With one gruff grunt, his body went rigid and he was done. Seconds later, he fell to her side, gasping for breath.

  They lay in the afterglow, both sweating and breathing hard. Finally, he turned onto his back, reached and found her hand, took it to his mouth and kissed her palm. “What did you mean, it’s been a long time?”

  Wishing she hadn’t said that, she hesitated. “What? Nothing. Just…that.”

  “How long?”

  Sharing that information could open doors through which she didn’t want to go. She hesitated again. “Just…a while.”

  A few beats passed. He turned on his side and faced her. “Is that why it wasn’t that easy for you?”

  Now she was embarrassed. She had no idea why she hadn’t been able to come more easily back in the kitchen. “I—I don’t know….Nervous, maybe…” She gave a foolish laugh. “But it was worth the wait.”

  “I knew it’d be good between us. The minute I saw you, I knew. Getting my cock inside you was all I could think about.”

  “I knew, too.” And that was the truth. She clasped a handful of his jeans, needing to lighten the moment. “But you didn’t even take all your clothes off.”

  “I’m going to though. Because, ma’am, we’re not finished.”

  She frowned. “You’re still calling me ma’am?”

  He propped himself on his right elbow, his eyes roaming over her body. She lay there, loving having him look at her.

  “You’re a real redhead.” He clasped her knee and pulled it toward him, opening her sex to his eyes. He stared intently between her legs and she didn’t even mind. “God, you turn me on” he muttered. “Your body….how it feels inside you….” He leaned down, buried his nose in her wet curls and inhaled deeply. “How you taste, how you smell. Everything.”

  She gloried in his adoration and combed her hand through his hair. “You’re wicked, the things you did to me. You nearly drove me crazy.”

  His mouth trailed back up her body to her breasts. “I wanted to be sure you enjoyed it.”

  “I’m sure you could tell I did.”

  He looked up at her. Now he was grinning like a self-satisfied little boy. “I could tell.”

  He traced her rose tattoo with his fingertip. “Yes, ma’am. You’re a real redhead. With a yellow rose of Texas tattoo.” He gave her mouth a quick hard kiss, then rolled to the edge of the bed. He sat up and pulled her to a sitting position. “Do you need the bathroom?”

  “Not now.”

  He pried off a boot. She gave a huff. “You had your boots on, too?”

  Grinning at her across his shoulder, he pried off the second boot. “You’ve heard that old Texas saying, darlin’. A man who can’t fuck with his boots on ain’t much of a man.”

  “Get outta here. There’s no such saying.”

  He laughed. “Take that dress off and get under the covers. When I come back, we’ll start over. I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve.” He stood and yanked his pants and shorts up over his taut white buttocks. “I’ll be right back,” he said.

  “And you’ll be naked, right?”

  Still grinning, he looked down at her. “What do you think?”

  Chapter 10

  Shannon lay there, stunned and staring at the ceiling. After this, would sex with anyone else ever be the same?

  She heard the toilet flush. Minutes later, he appeared in the bathroom doorway. Until now, she hadn’t been able to see him from head to toe. She let her eyes feast on his body. It was as perfect as she had imagined—lean and tanned to bronze, his long bones padded with defined muscle.

  A pelt of brown hair covered his chest and whorled down his belly. He had abs. Not sharply cut like a bodybuilder, but still, a flat belly without an ounce of fat. He had those thick ridges of muscle that started at his waist and veed down until it framed the delta of his groin as if his penis were a trophy. Her gaze lingered on it, still deeply colored and extended from a thick nest of dark curls. It was as yummy to look at as it had felt inside her.

  He snapped off the bathroom light and crossed the room to the bed. She held the covers open and looked up at him. “You look like Superman,” she told him.

  “Just don’t call me Clark,” he said, chuckling. He crawled between the covers, scooped her into his brawny arms and tangled his hairy legs with hers. “I still want to know how long.”

  “Why?”

  “Because it’s never been this good.”

  His words had a solemnity to them, as if they might be true. But could she believe him? “Hah. Why do I think you say that to all the girls?”

  “I never say things I don’t mean. Unless I’m joking.”

  As distrustful as she was of men, Shannon suspected that at least that much was a fact. Not just in the bedroom, but in all parts of his life. “It was good for me, too.”

  He caressed her cheek with his palm and kissed her. “I want to do it again.” He kissed her again and soon they were leisurely stroking and caressing and turning on the huge bed, their bare bodies rubbing together sensuously. Shannon forgot everything—the weather, the urgency to get home, the fibs she had told him. The world outside his bedroom, his bed, ceased to exist.

  At one point, she pleasured him with her mouth, but he only allowed it for seconds. Instead, he was attentive to her every desire, her every need. His mouth thrilled her with succulent kisses, his wicked tongue licked and titillated, his deft fingers teased. When he had pushed her to the edge again, he knew it at once and buried himself inside her. His soft baritone voice coaxed with naughty words and erotic promises as he took her to yet another shattering orgasm. She had never known a more unselfish lover.

  Afterward, he arranged her sated, languid, body against his, her head on his shoulder. She draped her arm across his chest, breathing in the sexy scent of heated male, enjoying the feel of his soft skin against her cheek and comfortably enveloped by thick covers on the cold night. She was so relaxed, she could easily drift to sleep, but she couldn’t let herself.

  “Let’s talk,” he said.

  “About what?”

  He yawned. “Oh, I don’t know. You said something earlier about some TV show you liked.”

  She frowned and placed a kiss on his furry chest. “You want to talk about the Discovery Channel?”

  “That was a joke. It’s you I want to talk about.”

  She longed to tell him about herself—her real name, where she lived, her phone number.

  But she feared talk would reveal too much and destroy this dream. She gave a silly titter. “There isn’t much to say. I’m not inclined to blab on and on about a subject I find a little boring.”

  He clasped her jaw and turned her face to his, “You’re not boring.” He kissed her thoroughly and sweetly, then resettled, holding her tightly against him. “Tomorrow. We talk tomorrow over breakfast. Deal?”

  She squeezed her eyes shut, but said nothing.

  “I like how you feel against me,” he said softly, his fingers making circles on her shoulder. “Like you fit.”

  “Hmm. I think we already had this conversation.”

  “We did, didn’t we? We fit that way, too. It’s just about perfect.” He yawned again.

  “You’re sleepy?”

  “Hmm….Got up early….Had a lot to do today.”

  “Like what? Tell me what someone like you does on a wintery Saturday.”

  “Checked a construction site…early this morning….Couldn’t get there yester—”

  His speech had slurred, then stopped altogether. She waited for him to say more. Then she noticed that his breathing had become deep and even. “Drake?”

  When he didn’t answer, she pushed herself up and looked into his face. He was asleep. His thick dark brown lashes lay against his
cheek. His facial muscles had relaxed, but the vertical crease between his brows was still evident. Even with whisker shadow, he looked young and innocent.

  Yet, there was nothing innocent about the way he had made love to her, nothing sissy about the way he looked, especially not his square jaw. He was a handsome man in a rugged, masculine way. She lightly stroked the arch of his brown brow with her fingertip. “Lord, you’re special,” she whispered. “So special.” He didn’t stir.

  The clock on the bedside table showed. 2:36 a.m. She still had time to get into her own bed before daylight. She had to go home. For a few seconds, she pondered if she could find a way to grab this brass ring and hang on to it. But she could think of nothing except that the fairy tale evening had ended.

  She eased from between the covers, picked up her dress from the floor beside the bed, then continued toward the bedroom door, shivering as she went. Earlier, inflamed with passion, she hadn’t noticed the chilliness of the bedroom.

  She had to pass through the dining room to reach the kitchen where he had stripped off her clothing. Willie Nelson still sang and played from the entertainment center. She recognized “Georgia.” She had heard Willie sing it about a thousand times.

  The two dishes of Crème Brûlée sat on the dining table where they had left them. Unable to resist, she stopped, picked up a spoon, dipped out a couple of bites and gloried with each one. Even cold, it was as delicious as she remembered.

  The view through the window wall showed the weather granting no reprieve. Dense fog hugged the windows like a black drape, erasing even so much as a dim view of the city lights. All she could see were water droplets marring the glass. Lord, she wouldn’t be able to see her hand in front of her once she got outside. Well, at least ice wasn’t peppering the windows.

  She found her stockings near the cooking island and her panties and shoes on the floor three feet away. On her way to the guest bathroom, she passed by the dining table again and scooped out one more bite of the dessert, then picked up her clutch from the table in the entry.

  She debated if she should take a cab or walk to the parking lot where she had left her SUV. The walk would be a six-block hike in high heels on wet sidewalks, through cold fog and rain at