Great. Just fucking great.
“I think you’re wrong,” he said. “It’s exactly my business.” Then he reached over and flipped off the lights with the bottom of the cone, which he also turned off. We were plunged into darkness, the only light source coming from the kitchen beyond, and the only sound coming from the rapid rises and falls of our chests. As he settled in front of me, he placed the items he carried on the table and his hands went to the waist of my pants. My breath hitched as his thumbs came up to flirt with the bare skin on my stomach.
“What do you think you’re doing?” I asked, and I hated the way my voice slightly shook as I said it. My fingers came up to rest on his chest, and I pushed him back, though he refused to move farther than a few inches away. His left hand came up to grab both of my wrists, and then he leaned in again, his other hand going to the table to brace himself—or, at least, I’d thought that was what he was doing.
Instead, he lifted up and held my gaze as two of his fingers smeared Nutella on the side of my neck. I gasped, but before I could find the words to protest, his head dipped to the side and then his tongue licked a warm, wet path along the same line. Instantly, my body reacted, unwanted tremors racing up my spine, giving me away. Even if he hadn’t had a hold of my arms, I was so stunned by the action that I wouldn’t have been able to move anyway.
Then he began to nibble and suck the sweetness off my neck, and the soft feel of his full lips combined with the urgency in his touch had my head falling back from the pleasure.
God, that felt good. Too good. But things couldn’t go any further—not now, not ever. This was some kind of trick, some kind of ploy to fog up my head and bend me to his will.
“Don’t,” I said, not wanting him to stop at all, but needing him to. I tried in vain to wriggle out from beneath him. “You don’t want this. Want me. And I don’t need you.”
He pulled away long enough to say, “You think I’d waste so much time if I didn’t want to be here? If I didn’t think you felt the same?” His breath was hot against the wet path on my neck, and the combination sent another round of shivers through my body.
“Yes,” I said defiantly.
“Then you’re fucking crazy.”
And then Dawson did the unthinkable—he kissed me.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Lick. Suck. Bite. Taste.
WHAT WAS MORE unthinkable in that moment when Dawson’s lips were on mine was that I kissed him back. Hungry, greedy kisses that tasted like the sweet chocolate he’d just licked off my neck.
With his teeth nipping at my bottom lip, it was like the dam had burst open, leveling everything in its path, and somehow I knew there’d be no stopping now. I never would’ve made the first move, but now that he had, I wasn’t going to be the one to back down. And with the way his tongue tangled in sync with mine, stealing my breath until I was dizzy, there was no way I wanted to stop. He still had a hold of my wrists in one hand, but I felt him reach behind me again with the other, and I pulled away to see him holding up a finger coated in Nutella.
Then, before he could spread it wherever he’d intended, I lowered my head and sucked his finger deep into my mouth. My tongue swirled, my lips moved up and down the length, and the whole time Dawson kept his eyes on mine, the initial surprise there turning quickly to undeniable lust. Lust and impatience, because as soon as I’d released his finger, his lips were crashing down again on mine.
And damn, the man could kiss. It made me wonder if this short marriage wouldn’t be put to better use by kissing rather than hurling insults every chance we got. But why choose? Maybe we could have the best of both worlds, at least for tonight…
Not content to let him have all the fun, I easily pulled away from his grasp this time, and then I grabbed a fistful of his ponytail to pull his head back. My tongue ran up his neck, and then my lips sank into his lobe.
“Don’t think this means anything,” I whispered, and his groan of agreement was all I needed to keep going. As he lifted me up onto the table, I spread my legs and then pulled him forward with my heels, so that the length of his hard—fuck, very hard—erection was flush against my core.
Mmm. Looked like fighting turned him on—we had that much in common, at least. Let’s see what else I could find out about the man between my thighs…
Dawson’s tongue came out to flick at one of my beaded nipples through the thin material of my bra, and my fingers tightened in his hair; I wanted him even closer, wanted him to take even more. But when he took his time tormenting me, I couldn’t resist teasing, “Is it me that tastes so good, or the—”
I didn’t even get a chance to finish what I was going to say, because Dawson muttered, “Fuck this bra,” and then, with a quick flick of his fingers on the snaps, it was down on my arms and discarded onto the floor.
Well, then. I liked a man who knew what he wanted.
Once he had me bared to him, I heard an intake of breath, and his hands plumped my full breasts, his thumbs circling my nipples. Then he lowered his head, sucking me into his mouth, and it felt so fucking good that a gasp escaped my throat and my legs tightened around his waist.
Hot damn, it would seem Dawson was a breast guy, and while my head would usually be falling back in ecstasy, I couldn’t stop watching the way he ravished me with his tongue, or the way his eyes shot up to mine every so often, a smoldering fire in them that sent my pussy throbbing.
When I couldn’t take any more, ready to kick things up a notch, I tugged back on his hair, and his lips met mine again. But even as my fingers nimbly unbuttoned his shirt, my mind couldn’t process that I was doing this. With Dawson.
Now, I was the farthest thing from a prude, and yet there was a warm thrill settling low in my belly, an unfamiliar nervous reaction that I hadn’t felt in years. But this wasn’t the time to be hesitant. There seemed to be an undiscussed truce in the air tonight, one that would expire once we’d had our fill of each other, so we may as well go for it.
And go for it we did.
After pushing his shirt off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor, I gave him a wicked smile and reached behind me to dab my finger in the Nutella.
“See something you want?” he asked.
“Oh yes,” I said, smearing a line of chocolate down his abs and then forming it into the shape of an arrow…pointing to what he claimed was a pretty impressive cock.
He glanced at the drawing and chuckled as he shook his head. “What was that I said before? Subtle as a—”
“Blow job? Yes, that too. But I have other plans for you first…” Picking up the vibrator, I pressed the button twice for the medium, steady vibration. With my other hand, I unbuttoned his jeans and pulled down the zipper, leaving the massive hard-on contained behind the thin cotton of his boxer briefs. I hadn’t planned on starting there, but Jesus. The prominent bulge had me doing a double take—it was apparent he hadn’t been joking about his nine-and-a-half-inch dick.
Fuck me, I thought, licking my lips.
When I finally looked away, the arrogant grin on Dawson’s face said it all—I’d been busted. His eyes flicked to the sex toy in my hand and then his gaze steadied on mine, the excitement in them obvious even as he waited patiently to see what I would do.
Well, mister nine-incher, torturing you to oblivion is a start.
Lowering the vibrator to the base of his cock, I slowly ran it along the length, and when it reached the tip, Dawson cursed. I repeated the move, but this time I also ran my tongue up the arrow I’d drawn, and Dawson’s fingers speared my hair, bringing my face up to his.
“I like the way you tease,” he said, his teeth coming out to nibble on my lip before he cursed again when the top of the cone reached…well, the top of his.
“If you’re nice, I might even let you use it on me,” I said.
Dawson growled, dropping to his knees and yanking down my pants and panties in one rough go. Then he was pulling me down, laying me out flat against the hardwood as he brought hims
elf up over me. The floor was freezing, and I bucked up against him, but it didn’t get me anything but a sadistic smile.
I glared. “You asshole.”
“You’d expect nothing less from me, now would you?” Then he stole the vibrator out of my hand and touched it to my clit for the briefest of moments, but it was enough to make me cry out.
“You thought those marks on your back were bad the first time around. Just you wait,” I said when he took it away.
“You say that like a threat, love.” His body was on top of mine now, his cock rubbing against my needy core, stoking the fire. “I see it as a prize from a worthy opponent.”
That was how it always was with us—constantly trying to one-up each other, always fighting for dominance. It put things back on comfortable ground. Back to how things normally were between us, bar this particularly hot sexual encounter. Because this wasn’t something that would ever lead to more. It couldn’t.
His lips were hot on my neck, nibbling slightly as he made his way down my chest to flirt and torment my nipples again, and I groaned into his touch. Still hovering over me, he lowered his hand between us, letting the vibrator trail down my stomach but coming to a stop before he got to the sweet spot. Trailing circles over my mound, down the sides of my inner thighs, he knew how to get me worked up without ever laying a finger—or sex toy—on me where I really needed it.
I was gonna kill him.
“I hate you,” I murmured, as he continued to tease around my clit but never coming close enough. “I really hate you.”
“I know,” he said, and then—finally—the vibration moved to exactly where I’d wanted it most, the power of it sending shock waves through my core. My hands speared through his hair as my body trembled up off the floor, the orgasm imminent and unyielding.
“Fuck, Dawson…” I couldn’t manage any more, because just as my climax hit, Dawson’s mouth was on me, his tongue joining the vibrator and riding me through as the wave crested and my whole body came apart. It kept going, his mouth taking everything I had to give and still asking for more. I’d never felt anything like it, the way my body responded so eagerly to his greedy tongue, wanting to give him all of me.
Remember when I said Dawson was a breast guy? That wasn’t the whole truth—Dawson was a sex guy, plain and simple, one of those rare men who wanted to worship every single inch of you, and I was more than willing to let him.
Before I could come down fully, he’d flipped to his back, bringing me up on top of him, his eyes challenging me in a way that said, Let me see what you got.
A man allowing me to take the control I wanted? Be still, my jaded heart.
“Condom?” I asked.
“Left pocket.”
After taking the foil packet out of his pants, I held it between my teeth so I could get the fucker beneath me good and naked. Once I’d rid him of his boxer briefs, I could only sit back on my heels and stare. Good God, the man was beautiful. And I hated to admit that, but there was no denying that if a perfect male specimen lived, Richard Dawson was pretty damn near close. From his shoulder-length blond hair that had come loose from its tie, to the sculpted limbs currently spread across my floor, not to mention the remnants of our food fight marking his chin, his abs, his arms. I’d never admit it to him or anyone, but spending a few hours learning his body with my tongue would not be a bad way to spend the night.
Dawson sat up on his elbows. “I’d be up for show-and-tell anytime you wish, love, but if you could sit on my cock sometime soon, I’d love to fuck you.”
With a scowl, I ripped the foil packet open with my teeth and rolled it down his length. Then I straddled him, slowly bearing down on his erection inch by inch—reverse cowgirl style. Hah. Let him watch my ass instead.
The hitched breath and groans of pleasure I heard from behind me as I took him deep inside brought a smile to my face, and I was grateful I’d chosen this position. He felt so good, but I didn’t want to let on just how good. Instead, once I took all of him I could get, I said over my shoulder, “I think you mean you’d like me to fuck you—” and then I began to move.
I rode him hard, squeezing my inner muscles on his cock as I circled my hips before sliding up and down, and his hands low on my waist urged me on. The rocking became more frenzied, and our movements frantic and rough, as we chased our climaxes. And it wasn’t “Pita” he called out—it was “Paige.”
“Paige,” he said again, as my hips slowed, and as a bead of sweat fell down my back, I looked over my shoulder to see his finger swipe it away before bringing it to his mouth to taste. That one small action had me wanting a taste of my own, and I shifted so that I was facing him again.
Leaning down over him, our breaths still coming hard, I said, “So? How do I taste?”
Dawson’s mouth curved up, and then he lifted his head to nip at my lip. “Fucking delicious.”
Had he not kissed me again then, I would’ve heard the footsteps before the lights flipped on. But, of course, I was in a post-high state of bliss and raring up for round two, so when the lights did flip on and a loud “Oh my God!” echoed off the walls, I jerked back, my head whipping up as I grabbed the closest thing to me that could be used for self-defense—the ice cream vibrator.
“Paige?” Shayne’s voice echoed off the walls as she stood at the entrance to the dining room, her jaw on the ground and her eyes on us. “Oh my God,” she said again, and this time one of her hands went over her eyes while she fumbled to turn the lights back off with the other.
“This isn’t what it looks like,” I said immediately, looking down at our whipped-cream-Nutella-ice-cream-laced bodies and dropping the vibrator. “I just slipped and fell on top of him.”
“Your vagina just slipped onto his penis?”
I looked down to where we were still joined, and smirked at Dawson as I told Shayne, “Oh, is that what that nudge was? It’s so small I could barely feel it.”
Dawson growled, and as he tickled over a sensitive spot below my waist, I yelped.
“Oh bugger, stop, stop, I just forgot…my wallet…on the…thing,” Shayne said, still holding her hand over her eyes as she carefully tiptoed around the spots of dessert scattered all over the floor. “Let me…grab it and get out of your way.”
With a smile tugging at his lips, Dawson said, “Hey, Shayne, maybe you could bring us another can of whipped cream and join us. What do you say?”
“What?” Shayne said, whirling around with a horrified expression on her face, but she turned around too fast, because her feet slipped on some of the melted ice cream and she went down hard on her ass. “Oh, ow, bloody hell.”
With her eyes closed, she felt for the wall and then tried to slide through the mess to get to the kitchen. Watching her try to feel around the counter for her wallet had amused chuckles escaping both me and Dawson, and once she’d gotten what she came for, she proceeded to crawl out of the kitchen on her hands and knees. She wasn’t very good at the game, though, because she knocked her head on the doorframe, and it sent us into fits of laughter that didn’t stop as she slipped and slid her way to the front door.
“It was just a joke, Shayne, promise,” Dawson called out, but my poor hooker was entirely traumatized, waving us off as she managed to finally get the door open, and then it slammed shut behind her.
But when the laughs subsided and reality set back in, I looked at Dawson and he looked back at me, and just like that, the bridge that had allowed us to cross the chasm between us was gone. With a reluctant smile, he helped me to my feet, his eyes roving over me again as mine did the same. This was the last time I’d see him naked, but naked and covered in Nutella was quite a way to go.
Then he went to his separate shower, and I went to mine, the distance between us feeling greater than ever, even though we’d never been closer. And as the warm spray rinsed off the remains of our food fight, the only thing I could think of were the words Dawson had spoken earlier, now on repeat in my brain.
“You think
I’d waste so much time if I didn’t want to be here? If I didn’t think you felt the same? If I didn’t want to be here…if I didn’t want to be here…”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Don’t Let the Door Hit You in the Ass
I WOKE UP the next morning to a darkened room, an empty bed, and flashes of Dawson between my thighs the night before. It was like Vegas round two, only I didn’t have a massive hangover, and I actually remembered everything this time. My body did feel a bit bruised and worse for wear, though—hard surfaces weren’t the ideal places to get it on, and—
Fuck me, did we really do that again?
Groaning, I turned my face into my feather pillow—that did not smell like him this time, thankfully. My hair was still damp from the post-coital shower that had been necessary after the food fight that had left us sticky and covered in leftover dessert. At least, the dessert we hadn’t eaten off each other.
What the hell had gotten into me last night? It was like all the fighting between us had built to the point where it was either fuck or kill each other. So, really, the only way to avoid a jail sentence had been to screw my husband.
My husband.
Weird.
Still… I couldn’t deny that last night had been hot—more than hot. Just remembering the way he’d wielded that vibrator over all my most sensitive areas had my thighs clenching and a throb beginning between my legs. Okay, so flat out—Dawson’s reputation was more than deserved. He’d been confident and in control, giving just enough to keep me on edge and hungry for more. And let’s face it, any guy who could make me come multiple times before bothering to think about himself was a man worthy of a second round. Though he’d had no problem getting what he’d wanted for himself after.
Damn. There hadn’t been many times I’d been shocked speechless by a partner, but Dawson taking the lead last night and acting on the sexual tension in the air had done it.
P.I.T.A. (L.A. Liaisons Book 3) Page 12
