She moved to help, but he waved her away. “I’ve got it,” he said. “Just let me get this sheet someplace where I don’t have to look at it.”
“It wasn’t your fault,” she said.
He scooped up the linens. “I’m the one with the dick,” he said. “Technically, that makes it my fault.” He hauled them into the spare bedroom that functioned as his catch-all and laundry room, and found her bent over the bed, tucking and straightening when he got back. The angle showcased her ass, painting it tenderly with candlelight and shadows. He wanted to drop to his knees, shove her thighs apart, and tongue-kiss the shadowy recesses of her pussy. It made him dizzy.
“I said I’d take care of it,” he grumbled.
She straightened up, turned. “I didn’t set you up to make you feel bad,” she blurted. “I would never, ever do that to you.”
He nodded. “Okay.”
She cleared her throat. “I thought men liked to be the first one.”
Sam tossed the comforter up and let it drift down onto the bed. “There could be some sort of Stone Age ego rush to it,” he admitted. “Presupposing the girl tells you, so you can adjust your technique and not ruin her first time. Jesus, Sveti. What were you thinking?”
“Stop scolding. You’ve scolded enough. Nothing was ruined.” She straightened the comforter until it rested on the bed with mathematical precision. “Please, don’t feel bad. I’m fine. It was amazing. You can have your Stone Age ego rush, if you want. You’re entitled to it. I never knew how good messing around could feel, until that day in Bruno’s studio. Ever since then, I’ve been wondering if I was building it up in my mind. If it could possibly be as awesome as I remembered.”
He waited until his head was about to explode. “And? Was it?”
“Better,” she confessed. “Infinitely better. Right up to the part that wasn’t your fault.”
Sam blew out a sharp sigh and shoved the shaggy hair off his face. “I’d be happier about that if it was our wedding night.”
Leaden silence followed that manipulative, childish, jerk-off pronouncement, but fuck it, why even bother with restraint? What was the point in all that effort? He’d get no return on his investment.
“Oh, Sam,” she whispered. “That’s not fair.”
“Sure isn’t.” He folded the comforter back and sat on the bed, his head in his hands.
“I’ve messed this up.” Sveti’s small voice sounded as miserable as he felt. “The last thing I wanted was to hurt you. Shall I call a car?”
He startled them both with his swift lunge and grab. He jerked her jealously close. “Oh, no. I haven’t suffered anywhere near enough tonight,” he said. “Lay it on me, Sveti. Let me see what else you’ve got.”
She gazed down with that sad, soulful look, the one that made him ache to make her laugh. Slid her fingers into his hair. The heels of her cool hands petted tenderly over the brush of stubble on his jaw.
“I never wanted to hurt you,” she whispered.
He cupped her ass, his long fingers gripping her hungrily. “I never wanted to hurt you, either. I wanted to make you come until you fainted.”
She sank to her knees, seized his cock. His body jerked back in startled alarm. “No way!”
“Why not?” She kissed the top of his thigh and rubbed her soft cheek against the grain of his body hair.
“After what just happened? Are you fucking kidding me?” He choked off a moan as she did one of those world-class twist-’n’-swirl moves. “Not comfortable with this,” he gasped. “Jesus, Sveti!”
Her smile was mysterious. “My goal is not to make you comfortable. My goal is to make you come until you faint.”
He shook with laughter, his hands clamped over his dick, holding her hands still. “You don’t have to do this.”
“But I’ve wanted to. For years.” Her tongue darted out to lick the flushed, gleaming tip of his cockhead, the only part poking out of his fists.
“I can’t,” he told her. “I’m traumatized.”
Another teasing lick and swirl. “This part of you doesn’t seem traumatized at all,” she said.
“That part of me talks all kinds of trash. Don’t listen to him.”
Her eyebrow tilted up. “Do you need to fight me, Sam? Is that what you need to get through the wall? Because I can give you that.”
He doubled over in silent laughter. Oh, shit. She was winning. He was toast. He looked up, opened his mouth, and abruptly forgot whatever he’d wanted to say. He just stared at her face. Soft with laughter. Her smile, so wide and relaxed. Shining. Bonfire bright.
“What?” she demanded.
“Your smile,” he said, helplessly. “Oh, my God, Sveti. Your smile is so goddamn beautiful, I can’t even breathe.”
It was that look in his eyes, again. It scared her to death. “Don’t,” she blurted. “Don’t be silly and melodramatic. I can’t take it.”
“Oh, no!” he said, in mock distress. “It’s gone! I chased it away! Come back, please! Come back!”
She swatted his thigh. “Stop it!”
He stroked her cheek. “I’ve never seen that smile. You look so different. I don’t see it enough. The whole world doesn’t see it enough.”
Well, shit. It was the world’s own damn fault for being so fucked up and crazy. But that was a bitchy thing to even think, let alone say.
Sam cupped her face and kissed her, delicately at first, but it bloomed instantly, from something tender and holy into something blazing and carnal. It felt so natural, inevitable, to bend down and take him in her mouth. She’d never gone down on anyone, nor had she been inclined to, until she’d seen Sam. At which point, a lot of things that had sounded distasteful to her had suddenly made sense.
He tasted wonderful, felt wonderful. She loved the vital throb of his heartbeat against her tongue, the velvet soft skin sheathing that thick, steely club, his salty scent. She cradled his heavy, pen-dulant balls in her hand, sucking him deep, swirling her tongue.
Sam clutched her shoulders, leaning over her. His muscles were rigid, like steel cables. “Have you ever done this before?” he asked.
She took the opportunity to rest her somewhat overextended jaw and drag in some deeper breaths. “No. Am I doing it wrong?”
“Fuck, no. It’s amazing. Can I come in your mouth? Not that I’ll have much choice, if you keep on like you’re doing.”
A flush heated her face. “I’m fine with that.”
She leaned down to get back to it, but Sam cupped her chin and gazed down into her face. “I’m getting my Stone Age ego rush now,” he told her. “I like being your first. I like it so much, it scares me.”
“I’m glad that it’s you, too.” She bent to the task once again.
He hunched over her, his breath deep, rasping pants. She deepened the long, tight, suckling strokes.
He shuddered, shouting hoarsely as the hot jets of salty come spurted inside her mouth. Almost too much for her to hold.
She rested her burning cheek on his thigh, cradling his cock in her hand. Only slightly softer. Still gleaming. He hunched, still panting.
She wiped her mouth and sat back on her heels, but as soon as she met his eyes, she wished that she hadn’t.
She could give him pleasure, but it wouldn’t make him happy for more than a fleeting moment. He wanted so much more.
His stark gaze pierced her like a needle. It made her want to die.
He got up and stumbled into the bathroom. Water ran. He came out holding out a glass. She nodded her thanks and drank.
“Your turn,” he said.
She was almost afraid to ask. “Ah . . . for what?”
He took the glass and tossed off the last gulp himself. “Cunnilingus,” he said matter-of-factly. “Let’s get down to it.”
She laughed, startled. “This is not a game where we score points!”
“The hell it’s not.” He set the glass down on the bedstand. “I love going down, and I have been told that I am reasonably good at it.
I’ve been dreaming for years about putting my face between your legs. So let’s get on with it, before you get sick of my whining bullshit and blow me off definitively.” He gripped her hips, dragged her across the mattress. Her torso fell backward.
She struggled up onto her elbows. “Wow! Smooth lead-in, Sam!”
“Yeah, I know. I’m actually a civilized guy, under normal circumstances,” he said. “But you’re not normal circumstances. Rude stuff just falls out of my mouth with you. I’d apologize, if my basic socialization skills were functioning, but they’re not. Filter failure.”
He was holding her thighs open with his big, hot hands. She tried, without success, to pry them off. “I’m glad you have filter failure,” she said. “I prefer the truth. Even when it makes me angry.”
“That’s fortunate,” he said, pushing her legs wider. His gaze narrowed at her resistance. “Relax, Sveti.”
She kept her back straight, her chin high, her gaze steady. “I don’t take orders well,” she said. “You sound angry and controlling, and that does not make me want to open my legs.”
Sam ran his fingers through his wild mane of hair. “Goddamnit, Sveti,” he snarled. “Just let me fulfil my function as a disposable sex toy, okay? Just let me make up for hurting you! Give me that, at least!”
“You’re not a disposable toy. And you sound so grim about it!”
“Sorry I’m not in a more playful mood, but there’s nothing in the world I’d rather do right now than put my face between your legs.”
His raw tone unnerved her. “But you’re so angry.”
“Yeah,” he admitted. “Angry at myself for wanting you, angry at myself for hurting you—”
“I’m not hurt, goddamnit!”
“Angry that you’re leaving,” he went on, as if she had not spoken. “Fucking furious that you waited until now to give it up to me. You needed a plane ticket to Europe in your hand before you dared to touch me. A ready escape route, right? Just in case you actually liked it.”
She wrapped her arms over her chest, shivering. “That’s not true.”
“Face it,” he said. “I suck as a casual sex toy, at least for you. I can’t help it and I can’t hide it. I’m angry that you want so goddamn little from me. And now I’ve got no place to put all the rest of it.”
She closed her eyes against the pain in his voice. There was no skating over it now. There it was, out on the table.
“It may seem little to you,” she whispered. “But it’s huge to me.”
He seized her, pinned her down onto the bed. She fought him, even though she didn’t want to. She ached for him, craved him, but the convulsive resistance was a pre-programmed reflex. It made her jittery and crazy and confused. But he did not relent. He pinned her straining, heaving body down, and slid down the length of her, his big hands clamped on her inner thighs. Staring hot-eyed at her pussy.
“Wait.” She was racked by spasms of unreasonable panic. “Don’t.”
“I won’t hurt you,” he assured her. A quick jerk scooted her body to the edge of the bed, so he could fold her legs up and kneel there. “I swear, I won’t touch the sore part. I’ll concentrate on your clit. Okay?”
Hah. Sam Petrie licking between her legs was not an event that could be described as “okay.” But that and all other thoughts fizzed into vapor the instant his mouth touched her.
Too much, at first. His tongue slid between her sensitive folds, provoking a jittery explosion that made her cry out. But her body adjusted, reframing the sensation into a lovely swirl of liquid heat.
She rose to meet his caressing tongue. She glowed like moonlight on water, crested like sea waves, surged like froth and foam. Sam followed every cue before she even gave it, lavishing long, lingering licks and swirls over her shivering pussy. He suckled and flirted, teased her with maddening flicks and trills, building the charge with masterful slowness, to a screaming point of intensity—and then letting it drift gently down. Again, and again. Until she was desperate.
When she pitched over the edge, each pulse of the wrenching explosion jolted her deeper into that place inside where she could feel it all. The infinite depths, the heart-breaking sweetness. A fleeting, whirling glimpse of all that ever was beautiful and true, or ever could be.
Her eyes fluttered open sometime later. She blinked at the ceiling. Her eyes were wet. She struggled to remember even who she was. She did not recognize this self, these sensations. She was not even remotely familiar with the place from which she’d just drifted so softly down.
The blankness lasted just long enough to feel a stab of anxiety about it. Then everything came rushing back.
Sam sat cross-legged next to her. His hand cupped her muff, cradling it as if it belonged to him. “You’re incredible when you let go.”
She was abashed. “Did I yell?”
“Mmmm.” He scooped her legs up and nudged until she scooted over to make room for him. He twitched the comforter up. It settled over them, soft as a cloud. His body was so long, hot. A bulwark against the night. He pulled her close against him, chest-to-chest, legs entangled.
They stared at each other. The silence felt heavy, and dangerous. Charged with all the things that they didn’t dare to say. Afraid to spoil the fragile sweetness of the moment. It made her throat ache.
He smoothed a lock of hair back off her forehead. “You taste amazing,” he said. “I could lick you forever. I think I could live on that alone. Just sweet, juicy Sveti lube. My magical elixir.”
She shook with laughter that could just as quickly turn to tears. Tears lurked around every corner, ready to ambush her. It was very strange. She was not a person who cried easily. Or at all, really.
He was erect again. His penis pressed against her belly. She grasped him. He went rigid, with a sharp, silent gasp. She cupped his balls. His penis jumped and twitched in her hand.
“Jesus,” he muttered. “That wasn’t enough for you?”
“You don’t seem to need rest,” she observed.
“You do.” He pried her hands off, pinning them against her chest.
She stroked him, long and slow and tight. “Make love to me.”
His eyes narrowed, and he shook his head. “I’m on to you now, babe,” he said. “You want me to fuck all coherent thought out of your head again, right? Felt good, didn’t it? To take a little break from the weight of the world, even if it’s only a few seconds?”
She yanked at her trapped hands. “I did not expect you to—”
“You don’t want any uncomfortable silences, either,” he went on. “You might actually have to talk to me. Oh, the horror.”
“Let go!” She yanked harder. “Now you’re just being an asshole !”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, let me have my little tantrum,” he growled.
“It’s a problem when the person throwing the tantrum is naked and lying on top of you!”
He rolled his eyes. “You know I would never hurt you.”
Her laugh was bitter. “There’s all sorts of different kinds of pain.”
“I guess you’d know, Sveti. You’re the big expert.”
Oh, that bastard. She struggled, but Sam pinned her flat and kissed her again. He could seduce her so swiftly into a quivering mess, despite his complicated mood. Everything he did made her hot and crazy. He lifted his mouth. She gasped for some badly needed air.
“Make me come again,” he said.
“You’re confusing me,” she said. “I thought you just said no.”
“To regular fucking, yes,” he said. “Jack me off.”
That blunt directive made her want to slap him. The arrogant bastard. It also made her want to do exactly as he asked. She only had tonight. No time for pride. No need to worry about establishing dangerous precedents. She still hesitated. “I might not do it right.”
“I’ll show you how I like it. Get your hands wet first.”
She gazed at him, perplexed.
He made an impatient sound. “With your lube. Best s
tuff ever.” He flicked the cover back. Slid his hand up her thigh. “Put your hand in your pussy.” He leaned forward, inhaling hungrily. “Show me the secret pink girl parts. Let me smell you. God, you’re so fucking hot and yum.”
Even an hour before, such a thing would have been unthinkable, but his mysterious alchemy had burned away her self-consciousness.
She splayed her legs and slipped her fingers inside herself. The only sound in the dim room was the wet sound of her hands moving on herself. He sat next to her, stroking his cock as he stared intently at the spectacle. She stared at the way he touched himself, too. Aroused by his thick, swollen shaft, the tracery of dark, pulsing veins.
The pleasure that burst from her depths startled her. A shuddering flush of heat pumped up through her chest, down her legs, her arm, all the way to her fingers and toes. Even her face tingled.
“Beautiful,” he muttered. “Wow. Bonus orgasm.” He grabbed her slippery hand and squeezed it around the head of his cock. His slick precome and her own lube blended into a perfect, slippery fluid.
He guided her hand into a tight, twisting yank, up and down the length of his pulsing shaft. “You do that . . . while I do this.” He slid a finger delicately inside her pussy and circled with his fingertip. Her body convulsed, shuddering.
“Does that hurt?” He pulsed it tenderly inside her, finding some mysteriously perfect spot in there that was soft, glowing with molten heat. It did hurt, just a little, but she’d die if he stopped, so she shook her head, unable to speak. Her throat was locked and trembling.
He guided her hand. She clenched and squirmed around his caressing fingers. Their pants turned to gasps. They were a taut, straining knot, making low, guttural sounds. His fingers probed deeper. Her strokes on his cock quickened. They fought their way toward that burning inevitability that beckoned and lured.
Sveti reached it first, pulsing around his hand with a shocked wail. Sam tightened his fist over hers, jerking it over his cock with frenzied intensity. He shouted as he spurted hot jets of creamy white come all over her belly, her breasts.
In For the Kill Page 8
