by Carol Caiton
He lifted her hair and passed it over her shoulder. Then he started at the top and began unbuttoning the entire row of buttons, parting the fabric as he progressed. His warm lips touched her shoulder. A few more buttons and his hot breath skimmed across her skin.
Rachel closed her eyes, cherishing every caress, every nuance when he paused, his face in her neck, and breathed. Just breathed. Then he continued on until he reached the upper edge of her corset.
Afraid to move, she opened her eyes and waited. He ran a finger along the upper edge, hissed out a breath and said, "Oh, honey."
He released the remaining buttons, all the way down to the small of her back, then his hands slid inside the dress to either side of her waist.
"Rachel," he murmured, and that was all it took.
Weak, aching with need, this feeling, this desire, seemed to take over her body. Her heartbeat quickened, and the heat spreading in the lower part of her body wanted his touch.
His fingers slid up her sides and her gown opened all the way, slipping off her shoulders. He tugged on both sleeves, and it drifted to the floor in a soft puddle of white.
She'd been to bed with him twice, which should have boosted her confidence. And it did. But on this of all days, it occurred to her that he was the experienced owner of an exclusive sex club while she was still new at this. The tiny white thong beneath her corset was the first she'd ever worn in her life. Her backside was naked, her breasts might as well be, and her silk stockings were sheer. She had good curves. She knew that. But looking good and knowing what to do with it were two different things.
His hands smoothed down to her naked backside then up and around to her breasts. He slid his palms under the cups of the corset and held her still while he rotated his hips against her bareness. He felt like a thick hard pipe behind his trousers and when she pressed herself against him, his breath hissed in her ear.
"Michael," she whispered, leaning her head back against his chest, "teach me what you like. Show me what to do." She stretched her hands back to clasp the outside of his thighs and he ground himself against her.
"Baby, if I taught you anything right now, I'd come in my pants." He trailed a hand down her abdomen and slid a finger along the edge of her thong. "But I hope you've got a whole drawer full of stuff like this." He tugged on the lace, lifting it away to slide inside to the heat of her.
She caught her breath on a gasp as his fingers found her. But he was still dressed and she wanted to be a participant. She shifted so that his hand slid out of the thong, and turned to face him.
"Yes," she said, moving her hands up his chest to clasp behind his neck, and she meant that word in every way he might want to interpret it.
He jerked against her. Gone was the soft warmth she'd seen in his eyes. They watched her now through lowered lids and sharp, heated intent. He made her feel womanly, maybe even a little daring.
She brought her fingers to the knot of his tie, unwound it, then took a moment to study the line of studs running down the length of his white shirt. It took only a few seconds. Then, one by one, she removed the mother-of-pearl buttons, collecting them in her hand as she went.
Watching her, he waited, his hands roving her back as she worked. When she was finished, he pulled off his tie, unfastened the cufflinks at his wrists, then held out his hand for the remaining studs.
She tumbled them into his palm and he dumped everything into his jacket pocket before removing it as well as his shirt and dropping both to the floor.
She liked sifting her fingers through the springy hair on his chest. But her mind was focused on the contrast of his dark dress pants against his bare skin. She smoothed her hands down his stomach, pausing over a slightly puckered scar and acknowledging it with a light caress before continuing down to the waistband of his trousers.
Unsure of herself, she paused, then gathered her courage. She fingered the clasp at his fly, unhooked it, and started for the zipper. When he pulsed against the heel of her hand, she paused again and waited.
Michael inhaled sharply and she jerked her eyes up to his.
"Baby, you don't need any lessons at all," he growled.
She started to pull away, but his hand clamped over hers and pressed it flat over his throbbing hardness. Holding her there, he pushed hard against her palm and swore. "Damn it, Rachel, I've never felt like this before."
His skin was taut across his cheeks. His eyes glittered.
She twisted her hand a little to ease his hold, but his palm still covered hers as though making sure she didn't pull back.
Pulling back wasn't what she had in mind, though. She wanted to explore.
"Michael," she whispered, "let me touch you."
But all she could manage was a small stroke with her fingertips and he once again hissed in a breath of air.
"Michael," she whispered again.
Closing her eyes, she leaned forward and kissed his chest, twisted her fingers again, and this time he lifted his hand.
She held him with her thumb and fingers, inching her way up, then down, noting his size, his girth. Reaching behind the fold of fabric at his fly, she lowered his zipper, but she got no further. His hand clamped over hers again and the grip of his fingers was unrelenting this time.
"Stop." His voice was raspy and harsh.
When she looked up, his mouth came down on hers. He pulled her hand away from the front of his trousers and pressed himself against her abdomen. Then he tore his mouth away, scooped her up in his arms again, and carried her the last few steps to his bed.
Sliding in next to her, his fingers went to her garter then up her thigh to the white thong. His nostrils flared. His eyes bored into hers.
He snagged the satin band with his thumb and tugged. The corset was next, and in seconds she was completely naked, all of her pretty underthings tossed to the floor behind him.
He started at the arch of her foot, his fingertips caressing the skin around to her ankle. He circled the sensitive flesh, then dragged a finger up the back of her calf to her knee.
She turned her face toward his chest, embarrassed by the need to writhe against him.
"Just feel it, baby."
His hand continued its path up her thigh, pausing at the triangle of curls as he bent his head and sucked her nipple into his mouth.
She whimpered, parting her legs to give him better access.
"That's it."
She felt his hot breath trail down her stomach. Then it floated across her skin to the core of her as he moved between her legs.
"Michael . . . ." She dug her fingers into his hair.
His velvety tongue teased and stroked, over and over. When he parted her with his thumbs and sucked her into his mouth, she arched off the bed and cried out with the force of her orgasm.
He held her to his mouth, continuing to suck, and one climax blurred into another.
"Michael!"
Shoving his trousers down, he centered himself and slid into her with a single, thick surge.
She climaxed all over again, her inner walls squeezing as she spiraled mindlessly with pleasure, lost in the sensation of his hard thrusts.
He erupted with a force so powerful, she felt the flood of his semen inside her. A harsh sound tore from his throat and still he slammed into her. Head thrown back, his testicles slapped against her flesh and she wondered if he exploded again, convulsing and thrusting until at last, he collapsed on top of her, his face and chest covered in sweat.
She didn't want to move a single muscle.
He didn't move at all but for the breath sawing in and out of his chest.
"I'm dead," he mumbled.
Rachel smiled weakly. Later, she'd think about what he'd done to her. But for now she just wanted to be in the moment, be with her husband and bask in the miracle of his body joined to hers.
Minutes later he rolled off and onto his back. His breath finally evened out. "So," he muttered, "if I just think I'm dead but I'm really not, you wanna do some drag racing tom
orrow?'
Her heart skipped a beat. Drowsy eyes flew open and she stared up at the dusky moonlit ceiling. "Our cars?" she asked. "You and me?"
"Yeah. You and me. Your Bugatti against my Lotus. Whaddaya think?"
Lethargy forgotten, she rolled onto her side to face him, but had to roll back to move her hair out of the way. "Yes!" she breathed. Then she covered his chest with a dozen joyful kisses.
He gave a short laugh and put his arm around her. "You got good tires?"
"Yes! I just replaced them three months ago."
"Okay. But you'll need new ones again after tomorrow. Oliver—you met him today, remember?"
"Yes. Blond hair combed back—"
"Yeah. He's the friend I told you about. The one with the private track."
Slightly dazed, she simply stared. "I think I've been transported to an alternate reality."
He smiled. "Where do you have your car serviced?"
She told him.
"We'll call Monday morning to see if we can get it in. I'll take you to school, okay?"
"Why?"
"'Cause I don't want you driving it again until it's checked out."
"What about your car?" She frowned. "Shouldn't you have the Lotus serviced too?"
He lowered his chin and kissed her forehead. "Yeah, and I will. But I've got another car in the garage."
She blinked. "Well of course you do. What could I have been thinking?"
He pinched her bare backside and smirked.
"So," she grinned back at him, "have I married a gambling man?"
He narrowed his eyes. "You done this before?"
"No. But I know my car. I've certainly gotten enough speeding tickets to prove it."
"Okay, baby. Name your terms."
She was ready for him. "Two hundred says I take the first race."
His brows shot up. "Pretty sure of yourself, huh?"
She gave a little shrug. "I've got graduation expenses coming up."
He chuckled.
"And a new set of tires to pay for," she added happily.
"The tires are on me, Rachel. Along with graduation expenses and anything else you want."
Gathering her hair, she scooted closer to rest her head on his shoulder. "Just you, Michael. I just want you."
His thumb stroked her arm in a slow, thoughtful manner and she relaxed in contented silence. A few minutes later he rolled onto his side, facing her, and tucked her in against his body.
CHAPTER 25
She beat him.
His little porcelain doll took him by almost a whole frigging car length. And fuck if that didn't turn him on. Hell, he'd stiffened up as soon as she started racking up those rpms at the starting line. And when she burned rubber . . . man, he was ready to pull over, back her up against the side of the car, and get inside that little pink thong she'd stepped into that morning. He'd wanted to fuck her, not haul ass around the track.
It was a wonder he beat her two out of three.
But she got him three out of five.
When they pulled over for the last time, she bounded out of her car. Off came her helmet, and those blonde curls swirled all around her arms and waist as she danced her way over to him, so damn pretty he just sat and watched her through the window.
"Michael!"
With a grunt he opened the door and got out. And when she threw herself into his arms, he caught and held her to him.
"Oh, Michael, thank you!"
She stretched up on tiptoe, trying to reach his face, so he lifted her off the ground and she sprinkled kisses all along his jaw.
"Baby, you thank me like this all the time and I'll be bending over backwards to find things that make you happy."
He wondered if she realized how far she'd come since that first day he'd seen her at RUSH.
She hid her face in his neck like she was embarrassed or something, so he tightened his arms and just held her, feet off the ground, and waited.
He was important to her. She kept him up on that pedestal and he didn't even have to do anything to get there. It was just who she was.
He heard Oliver approach from behind and turned with her still in his arms.
"You've been bested by a woman, Michael."
"Yeah, how 'bout that?" He grinned.
"Nice driving, Rachel," Oliver said, smiling.
He let her slide slowly down his body and her eyes widened when she figured out he was hard as a rock.
"Thank you, Oliver," she murmured, all flustered and pink and trying to pretend everything was normal.
Oh, honey, you've got me so wrapped up in you.
"Thank you for letting us use your track."
She stayed close to his side and he kept one arm around her, realizing it had been like that yesterday too. She liked to be close to him when other people were around. He'd have to remember that.
"My pleasure," Oliver said. "Sorry to have to chase you off though."
"No problem," Michael said. He extended his free hand. "Thanks for fitting us in on short notice."
"Call any time, Michael." They shook. "I've got some storage space available if you decide you want to keep extra tires on hand."
Michael glanced down at his wife and grinned. "Yeah. Looks like I'll probably take you up on that."
He should have had some tires delivered to the track ahead of time. He sure hadn't been prepared for his sweet little wife's appreciation for speed. Not that she hadn't warned him. But she was such a girly-girl, it knocked a man off balance. She was fearless. Absolutely fearless.
But now they had a good hour's drive back to Orlando. Oliver's mechanic had checked both cars, but he and Rachel had burned a lot of rubber and done some hard driving. So he told her to keep it under fifty and he followed behind her just in case something went wrong. And yeah, she'd probably be able to handle a blow-out just fine. She handled that Bugati like a pro. But the possibility kept him alert all the way back and he was glad when they turned into the driveway without incident.
When he got out of the car she was there to greet him. He shut the door, held out an arm so she could see it, then pulled her close when she stepped in. How had she gotten to be so important to him?
"C'mon into the office, baby. Looks like I owe you a couple hundred bucks, huh?"
She kept her arm around his waist while they walked to the front door. It felt good. And he still liked knowing he was the only person she could be with like that. He liked that she wanted to be close to him, to touch him. Not that he celebrated all those years of aloneness she went through. But it soothed his own issues when she was near, when he knew exactly where she was. Maybe that would ease up with time. He sure hoped so. 'Cause if he had his way, she'd never leave the house without him and that wasn't good.
His office, unlike the rest of the house, was full of furniture. A desk was necessary, right? And in his case, two desks. The room wasn't messy. He didn't like messy. But he needed a bookcase for all the manuals he kept at hand. And all four filing cabinets were filling up. The aerial photo of RUSH he'd had framed was the only decorative touch, if you could call it that. And now that he stood looking at it, he decided maybe it was time to take it down, stow it up in the attic, and replace it with something else.
He showed her the safe, hidden behind one of the wall panels, and told her the combination. "There's about forty grand in here," he told her. "Just let me know—or leave me a note or something, when you take money out so I can replace it, okay?"
She looked concerned. "That's a lot of money to keep here in the house."
He shrugged. "Used to be more. I like knowing I can put my hands on ready cash if I need to. Know what I mean?"
She looked a little uncertain. "I guess so."
"Don't worry, the safe's just about indestructible."
He counted out two hundred dollars and handed it to her. "You drive real good, baby. Made me work for it." He looped both arms around her and grinned. "But I want a rematch."
The smile she gave back was wo
rth every bit of the two hundred. "Just say when."
He bent down, gave her a quick kiss, and straightened. Then he walked over to his second desk and opened the top drawer. "This is for you, too," he said, picking up the credit card he'd put there. He'd added her name to his account. Rachel Vassek. He ran his thumb over the embossed letters before handing it to her. "Buy whatever you want for the house."
She stared down at it. Then she looked up at him with a funny kind of smile. "You're giving me carte blanche? Aren't you afraid I'll pick out something flowery for the bedroom?"
"Nope."
"Nope?"
"Nuh-uh. You wouldn't do that to me."
She laughed. "You're right, I wouldn't. But I'm a little overwhelmed here. And I don't know what your tastes are."
"Well I can help you out there," he said, slipping his arm back around her waist and pulling her against his erection.
"Michael, you're insatiable."
"I'm a newly married man," he pointed out. "I'm a newly married man whose wife burns rubber on asphalt like she means it. And it got me so hard, I was surprised I won the second run."
He rubbed against her, slid his hands down to her ass, and lifted.
She circled her sweet legs around him and he fitted his cock right where he wanted it and pushed. And oh, man, when she gasped, her eyes went all hazy and—
"Michael," she breathed.
He pulled her stretchy pink top over her head and took them both down to the carpet. Her jeans came off next, followed by that tiny little pink thong.
He kept waiting for this need he had to fade some, but he was pretty much primed whenever he was around her.
It was fast and hard this time and when he dropped down beside her, lucky he could even blink his eyes, he was worried he'd scared her. But she snuggled up next to him and spread those butterfly kisses over his chest again and he knew she was okay.
"Rachel?"
"Hmm?"
"I like solid colors. Maybe some stripes."
"Okay." She doodled something on his chest. "What do you think about an aquarium? Do you like fish?"
