Gemma wasn’t sure where she was.
At the very least, she should find out. Then leave. But all she could think about were his words right before he’d towed her all the way back through the Enright and down the steps to a cab for the drive across town.
He was going to make love to her. Love, that’s what he’d said. They would make love until they were too tired to walk. If Gemma had ever had a sexier thought, she didn’t know what it was.
She hadn’t even known this hotel existed, but it was six-star beautiful. Boutique-sized, exquisitely furnished, situated in an out-of-the-way cul-de-sac off a small Manhattan side street she hadn’t known about. This couldn’t be his room. There were no personal things lying around, or any sign at all that the room was occupied. Where he lived or stayed in New York was just another thing she didn’t know about him. In fact, when she added up what she did know, it only came to two things: He was American and some kind of investigator. Not much, considering what they were about to do.
How all this had happened in the space of an hour was still beyond her. Admittedly, she had dressed in her prettiest, undeniably short sundress to get a reaction—but this? She’d only wanted to put him on her territory, distract him with the shortest dress in her closet, and then ask him questions about the fraud. That, and maybe tease him a little to get even. She should have known that playing with him would be dangerous. He’d seen her skimpy dress as nothing less than an invitation to take what he wanted. And as hard as she might try to convince herself otherwise, that’s exactly why she’d worn it. But she really shouldn’t be here. This could all be a carefully constructed plan on his part: play with her for a while, then interrogate her again once her defenses were down. But hell, he was the most exciting man she’d ever met, and that dangerous edge was all part of the whole alluring, irresistible package.
And what a package it was.
“Right, thanks.” Mack took the keys from the porter and closed the door. Gemma shifted anxiously on her heels, focused on her breathing to stop herself from imagining every bone-melting thing he was about to do to her.
She watched him shrug off his jacket, trying not to be impressed by the way his powerful body flexed under his shirt and the superconfident way he moved as he tossed his jacket over the arm of the sofa. The man was beautiful, no doubt about it. Beautiful and dangerous.
He rolled his sleeve cuffs back, looking for all the world as if he was preparing to do business. The business being her, right now, going by the way his eyes were appreciating her from head to toe. If a stare could strip clothes off a body, she’d be in her birthday suit. Gemma tried, but failed, to tamp down the heat blossoming low in her belly. Dammit, she should so leave while she still had the strength.
“You need anything?” he asked, staring at her legs.
And the man was rude. Not even a show of good manners. No way was she going to just give in to him.
Gemma mustered up the haughtiest face she could find and gazed at a spot on the wallpaper.
He smiled quietly. “I guess that’s a no.”
He started walking toward her, so she took a step back, determined to maintain a decent distance. That wicked grin, and what it suggested, was positively indecent.
“What are you going to do?”
Stopping four feet from her, he stroked his jaw, as if working out the formalities of the situation. “How shall we do this?”
She took another step back. “Do what?”
Ignoring her question, he advanced again. “Perhaps a kiss to start things off.”
Could a man really put that much sexy promise in a statement?
“A kiss,” she echoed stupidly, shaking her head, but at the same time hoping he would just do it. She was starting to feel dizzy with sexual heat or nerves or something.
He took a single stride to reach her, slipped an arm around her waist, and—before she could attempt a protest—turned her face up and his mouth was on hers.
So much for her exit plan. She whispered against his lips, “Mack.”
He lifted his head in surprise. “That’s the first time you’ve said that. I like it.”
Although Gemma didn’t want to admit to herself that there was anything remotely likable about this man, she liked it, too. In fact, she loved the sound of his name on her lips. Mack. It suited him. Big, like a Mack truck. An unbelievably sexy truck. Powerful, intense, rough, but at the same time gentle.
He cupped a hand around the back of her neck to hold her head steady as he kissed her again, this time his tongue taking over her mouth, demanding every last bit of her attention. Gemma tried hard not to like it so much, but she couldn’t help it. Only a couple of kisses in, and here she was, kissing him back, pushing her own tongue greedily into his mouth, her body responding to the low growl of approval rising from deep in his throat.
His mouth was still on hers when his hand dropped from her waist to pull up her dress and ease his hand inside her panties. No time-wasting. Straight into it, taking what he wanted. She shivered as his fingers spread across her butt, his hand so broad that it covered most of her backside. She barely had time to think about what was coming next before he’d released her mouth to ease her back a fraction. Expecting him to pick her up and carry her to the bed, Gemma lifted an arm, ready to loop it around his neck. But then, with a soft laugh, he slid his hand around her hip to brush his fingers over her sex.
“Open your legs.”
She blinked in surprise but obeyed him, trying to stop her heels from wobbling as she widened her stance. Maybe he wanted her legs wide so he could wrap them around his hips when he carried her to the bed.
But he didn’t do any of that. Very slowly, he slid two fingers lightly along her, repeating the process until she was squirming hungrily. It wasn’t even close to enough, and he had to know that she needed more.
“Please ... the bed.” Gemma knew she was begging, but she was past caring.
But he didn’t pick her up or even let her find her own way. His fingers just stayed light and busy on her, before stopping briefly. Now what? Then he started again, this time exploring more carefully, using his fingers to spread her open.
Moments later he found her clit.
He was going to make her come right here, standing up.
Surely he didn’t really expect her to stay upright with his fingers stroking and teasing at her like that? The man was cruel.
Cruel or not, she still gripped his big hand to hold it steady against herself, not caring when a soft laugh rumbled above her head. If he was having his fun with her, too bad. No way was she about to let go. Right now, her whole world was that small, tight bud of a million nerve endings about to explode into one mind-blowing orgasm, and his thumb was going to get her there.
She was at the edge, just a few more strokes ...
He stopped.
Oh God, he’s going to leave me hanging.
Gemma dug her fingernails into his hand in protest, terrified that he was done with her. Not even he could be so merciless.
His mouth brushed lightly over her ear.
“Open your legs wider.”
Oh, sweet mercy, that erotic command alone almost made her climax without further help. Gripping two fistfuls of his shirt for stability, she spread her legs as wide as was safe in five-inch heels, leaned forward to rest her face against his chest, and silently prayed for relief.
“Good.” She didn’t know whether it was a question or a confirmation resonating from above, but it didn’t matter. A second later, he dipped down and two fingers slid deep inside her body. Gemma scrunched her eyes shut, sinking into the intense sensation of his fingers slowly pumping her, his thumb making beautiful circles over her clit.
The man knew how to tease and torture, taking her to the brink, then backing off before building again, each stimulation more powerful than the last, until Gemma thought she would pass out from sheer lust.
Then finally, when he knew she couldn’t stand it for another moment, he let
her come, tightening his hold around her waist as she arched back over his arm, almost sobbing with gratitude. At that point, her entire body shuddered helplessly in unison with every thick, pulsating wave that radiated out from her core, over and over, the strength of it making her cry out. She’d thought the orgasm he’d given her two days ago was the best of her entire life. That was then. This had just put her on another planet.
Her eyes were still closed when she felt his breath on her cheek.
“I take it that hit the spot.”
Gemma tried to laugh, but it came out as a kind of wheeze. He chuckled, lifting her up and carrying her to the bed to lay her down. His voice dropped to a heat-sizzling growl that had her wriggling in anticipation.
“Right, now we get started.”
Then he stripped.
Even her wildly vivid fantasies of him naked fell a mountain short. The man was constructed of nothing but brute strength. In her apartment, she hadn’t really had the chance to study him, but now she could absorb every glorious inch of pure masculine beauty. Many glorious inches, standing thick and proud.
There were scars on him as well. A three-inch silver-colored scar across his shoulder, a small crescent-shaped mark on his arm that could be an old bullet wound, and a long, jagged red scar down his side that looked recent. Everything about him confirmed her initial impression. Whatever his job, that supermuscular physique served as a work tool. He occupied a world where strength and self-control were vital to survival.
He settled down beside her, plucking at a thin shoulder strap of her sundress, frowning as if he didn’t know what to do with it. She giggled.
He looked so serious she giggled again.
“What are you laughing at, woman? This needs to come off.”
Obediently she sat up and slid the zipper down, taking it slow, wanting to tease. Her dress had barely slipped from her breasts when she couldn’t go on, totally distracted as he lightly thumbed a nipple.
“Keep going.”
“Heels?” Lord, she felt wanton.
He grunted. “On.”
She wriggled out of the dress and panties before falling back on the bed. Waiting.
His gaze traveled the length of her.
Gemma couldn’t recall ever feeling so scrutinized. Or so turned on by a stare. Nor could she wait to touch him. Taking the lead, she kissed her way down his chest, feeling his fingers pulling at the tie holding her ponytail.
Her hair was loose around her shoulders by the time she’d slipped all the way down to flick her tongue over the head of his cock, tasting him. She heard him catch his breath in surprise. Oh, she was so going to return the favor.
She closed her lips around the broad head, feeling him shudder in her mouth. Yes, she was doing it right. She took more of him, gently laving and sucking, her hand holding his shaft steady to her mouth. He shuddered harder, his hand fisting her hair.
“Christ.”
“You’re so hard,” she breathed against him before lifting her head to peek up at his face through her lashes, her hand taking over for her mouth. His shaft was warm and silky and so big her fingers didn’t quite meet around him.
He took a while to answer. “I feel fucking hard.”
Then she took as much of him as she could fit in her mouth, using her tongue to caress his length with every slide upward before dipping deep again. He moaned, his fingers gripping her hair harder now, as if to hold her in place. Gemma repeated her slow movements over and over, enjoying every fresh moan of his pleasure when she dipped deep. She was giving herself pleasure too—he tasted so good. She could totally do this forever, but he was close, and she wouldn’t tease him like he had her.
She had only just increased her pace when—in one easy movement—he bent down, lifted her up, and sat her on top of him. Just like that. As if she weighed nothing more than a six-week-old kitten.
“Hey, I was enjoying that.”
“Come here,” he growled with a laugh, hooking a hand around the back of her head and pulling her hard to his mouth. Gemma promptly forgot about everything except for his tongue stroking the inside of her mouth and his hands taking complete charge of her body.
He eased her back, angling his head in the direction of the bedside table. “My wallet.”
“What?”
“Condom.”
“Oh.” She reached over and picked up the leather wallet, fighting the temptation to even glance at it in case he thought she was prying. Besides, he was watching her, maybe even waiting for her to sneak a look. She held it toward him.
“Here.”
“You do it.”
Gemma blinked. Had he just asked her to look in his wallet?
“Are you sure?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “I’m not some fucking James Bond with an exploding wallet. Get the condom.”
That might have been funny if she hadn’t been so desperate for him. The first compartment had what she was looking for. Five? Oh, sweet Lord, he really did come prepared.
He tore the wrapper and fitted the sheath superfast, while Gemma looked on in desire and fascination. His every movement was ultrasmooth and precise. The man was a like a beautiful, well-oiled machine. Maybe he really was a James Bond.
She felt cheeky. “Can I be on top, James?”
He flipped her on her back to settle his big body between her legs. Holding himself up on his elbows, he half-smiled down at her. “Later, Blue Eyes. Put your legs around me.”
Now she felt really cheeky. “God, you’re so bossy.”
His smile turned to a throaty laugh as he slipped a hand under a calf to wrap it up around his hip, then did the same with the other. Her hot-pink heels rested on his butt. “And don’t you love it?”
“I do not!” she protested. Actually, she did. Not that she was going to admit that to him.
He kissed her, and moments later he was inside her body, sliding his length to the very end of her in one long, deep thrust. She gasped at the sheer invasion of it, feeling her core stretched wide as he merged his body with hers, drowning her in a sea of sensation. Hot. Thick. The most erotic feeling of being taken by a man who knew exactly how to take a woman.
“You feel so good,” he groaned into her hair. She could only moan her response as his hand went under her butt to fasten her hips to his. He held still for the briefest moment, then, slowly, he began to move, working himself in and out of her body, almost leaving her completely as he withdrew and then sliding home again in one long, easy stroke.
Oh sweet paradise, how he took his time with her, getting to know what she liked better than she knew herself. Deep, powerful thrusts that had her sobbing for release, then whimpering with pleasure when he eased off, delaying her orgasm. Gemma knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that this was what it was supposed to be like. She’d never felt so alive in her entire life. This wasn’t just sex. He was making love to her. A man she didn’t even know and would probably never know.
“Oh God, that’s so good, I ... love ... ” The word escaped from Gemma’s mouth before she could stop it, suddenly terrified he would misinterpret what she’d said. But seconds later, she forgot it entirely as he angled his head to reach her mouth for a long, deep, incredibly tender kiss. Then moments later, knowing that they were both ready, he drove piston-fast into her, driving them toward climax. She felt her hips lifted high off the bed for more penetration, his arm braced on the mattress, holding them both up.
Her orgasm came in one huge burst of ecstasy—powerful contractions that made her cry out as wave after wave crested along every nerve in her body, their force peaking right at the moment when she felt him pulsate his release into her core.
He didn’t let her go. Rolling over onto his side, he took her with him so they were still joined, their bodies covered in a sheen of perspiration. Gemma settled herself into his big shoulder. He might never tell her who he was or whom he worked for, but right now she had this moment of utter contentment.
“A pity,” he murmured against
the top of her head. He sounded serious.
Her head sprang up in alarm. “What’s wrong?”
“You didn’t have a turn on top.”
She sighed and dropped back into his shoulder. “Yes, it was disappointing.”
His chin nuzzled her hair. “Perhaps I can ease your disappointment.”
“Oh, how would you do that?”
He didn’t answer. Instead he rolled out of her, dealt with the condom, and shoved himself off the bed. “Lose the shoes.”
So bossy. But more importantly, what was he planning? Whatever it was, he was almost fully erect again. She kicked off her stilettos, sending them over the side of the bed, shivering as his hazel eyes grazed every inch of her while he fitted a fresh condom and lifted her into his arms. “You’ll see.”
Whatever he had in mind, at least it didn’t involve her having to stand. He carried her through to the bathroom, his eyes locked on hers.
“Ever fucked in the shower?”
The man was so to the point; it was like being immersed in some incredibly erotic language. An ache dug deep at the apex of her thighs.
“No.” She gulped, barely able to imagine what was coming. She and Kyle had tried to have shower sex a few times, but Kyle preferred the comfort of a bed, so that’s where they had always ended up. His bed, of course, as hers was too small.
He held her effortlessly with one arm as he tossed the spare condom on a shelf and turned on the spray. Steam quickly rose around them, fogging up the glass of the huge walk-in shower.
“Hang onto me.”
He backed her up against the tiles of the shower wall, one hand around her waist, the other below her, rubbing his cock against her opening before slowly inching the head into her. “Okay?”
She jerked a nod into his shoulder and tightened her hold around his neck as he entered her, the sensation bowing her back as he slid home, anchoring her to his body. Then he stilled, and they both savored the rush of water running over their wet bodies and the steam enveloping them in a warm, wet blanket. Gemma leaned her head back against the tiles and closed her eyes, loving the feeling of being filled to completeness by this dangerous man who gave her raw, sensual pleasure like she’d never known it.
Whirlwind Romance: 10 Short Love Stories Page 11
