by Faye Avalon
She placed the foil packet on the bedside table, then lay back and continued to stare at the ceiling. The night was still muggy and she welcomed the gentle whisper of air-conditioning that breathed over her naked flesh.
What was taking the man so damn long?
As if she’d summoned him with her thoughts, he appeared in the doorway, holding her dress and bra.
He strolled into the room, watching her as he moved to the side of the bed. He picked up her thong and shoes. Without a word, he went over to a cupboard by the wardrobe and pushed her clothes inside. Then he came back, dropped his hands on the bed either side of her shoulders, leaned down and kissed her.
The kiss was sultry and slow and she writhed gently beneath him. The man could certainly kiss.
He grinned, then bent down to get her bag from the floor. She scrambled up onto her elbows as he took her bag to the wardrobe.
“What are you doing?” Panic rose in her throat. “I’ll need my bag.”
“Why?” He put the bag inside and closed the cupboard door. “I’ve got condoms. What else do we need?”
He reached into a drawer above the cupboard and she realized he had a key in his hand. Locking the cupboard, he turned to her, grinned, then left the bedroom.
Her heart beat fast and heavy, while a chill rippled through her body. She needed her phone. Hell. She couldn’t take the photo without her phone.
She was about to get off the bed when he strolled back in.
“Give me back my bag, Mitch.”
“It’s not going anywhere.”
“Why are you doing this?”
He came over and resumed the position he’d taken before, his hands either side of her shoulders. “This time, I get to keep your clothes,” he said, grinning before he leaned down and kissed her again. “This time I call all the shots.”
For some reason, that scared her more than the fact her bag was locked away.
“I’m starting to wish I never looked you up at that reception.”
“No, you’re not.” He nibbled her mouth. “Think what you would have missed.”
When he deepened the kiss, she pushed herself back against the mattress. What on earth was she supposed to do now? She couldn’t have sex with the man unless she had the opportunity to take the photo. That most definitely wasn’t the plan. And it wasn’t what she wanted.
But his shirt-covered chest pressed hard against her naked breasts, and she knew she was lying to herself. Mitch Coleman had always been her guilty crush. She’d always wondered how it would feel to be with him.
Mitch kissed her jaw, then down along her throat. She closed her eyes against the heady sensations of his mouth caressing her flesh, his tongue stroking and flicking its way down her body. He took his time with her breasts, giving open mouthed kisses and making her arch up toward him as her nipples begged for equal attention. She was rewarded when his tongue flicked her nipple, the merest touch sending her nerve endings through the roof. She arched up again, but he didn’t cover her nipple with his mouth—just kept that torturous brush of his tongue over the hardened buds.
“Mitch. Touch me. I want to feel your mouth.”
His response was to move farther down her body, running the tip of his tongue lightly around her navel.
“Open your legs.” She did, but he growled, “Wider.”
Although she’d done as he commanded, he grabbed her thighs and pushed them farther apart. With the weight of his hands on her legs, she couldn’t move, couldn’t buck or arch toward him. He subjected her to the same slow and torturous movements, running his tongue along her groin and then down the inside of her thigh. It was agonizing having him so close to her pussy, his hot breath brushing her heat but not giving her what she wanted. Reversing his movement, he swapped to her other thigh, moving up the inside toward her groin.
“You bastard,” she grumbled when he still refused to give her what she craved. “Touch me.”
He laughed, a low and wicked sound that made her pussy throb harder. “Where do you want me to touch you?”
“Everywhere,” she gasped.
“Nowhere specific?” he asked, kissing the flesh at the top of her pussy.
“Right there,” she moaned softly. “Down a few inches.”
“Ah.” He said it almost conversationally, and it was only the jerky movement of his breath that signaled he was as turned on as she was. “You want me to lick you? Slide my tongue into your hot slit and push deep inside you?”
“Yes.” She all but screamed it. “Yes.”
“But then you’d come, my desperate little vixen. And you won’t come until I say so.”
His words irritated, but they also turned her on even more.
When he stood, she tried to scramble up, intent on getting him naked so they could get on with things. But he pushed her back down onto the bed.
“I’m not finished.”
“Why won’t you take your clothes off?”
“Like I said, this time I call the shots.”
She felt a shiver of fear. He had all her clothes, her bag. She truly was in his control. The thought made her feel intensely vulnerable. She’d felt that way once before, when Costas had pulled his reprehensible trick. She’d sworn never to be in that position again. Yet here she was and Mitch had somehow maneuvered her into relinquishing all control. Except there was a fundamental difference from what she’d felt with Costas. While she might feel vulnerable, she knew if push came to shove, Mitch would never hurt her.
With the realization came a release of some of the anxiety pulsing through her veins, and she allowed her muscles to relax as Mitch sat on the side of the bed.
He ran his hand down the sides of her ribcage. “Touch yourself for me.”
How does the man have such iron control? Gina thought as she held his hot gaze. Why wasn’t he naked and inside her now? She reached her hand toward the hard evidence of his own arousal. “I’d rather touch you.”
He caught her wrist. “Not yet.”
She screwed up her forehead. “I don’t get you.”
“You don’t have to get me. All you have to do is touch yourself. Now. Do it.”
The way he dished out orders should have infuriated her, and it did on some level, but more than that, it excited her—turned her on.
She slid her hand down her body. The sooner she did what he asked, the sooner he’d be inside her.
With a passing thought for her phone, she assured herself that after they’d had sex and he fell asleep, she could go in search of the key. She’d make sure he was so damn exhausted, he’d sleep for hours. Then she could take the shot, dress and be on her way before he even knew she was gone.
As she slid her fingers over the lips of her pussy, she watched Mitch. She loved the way his eyes followed the movement of her hand and the way his gaze darkened in the process. She wondered if he enjoyed that she was bare, or if he preferred a light covering of hair. Not that it really mattered, since this would be the first and only time she’d be with him. Now that she no longer had to consider Costas and his preference for a shaved pussy, she might never again put herself through the agony—and indignity—of a Brazilian wax.
Slipping her fingers into her slit, she heard Mitch groan. Things were heating up. His chest heaved, his breath deepened and all the while, he kept his attention firmly fixed on what she was doing. Spurred on by his reaction, and the thought that he would have to be a eunuch not to be affected by a woman playing with herself, she pushed in another finger and arched her back as she writhed and moaned softly, putting on a show for Mitch’s benefit.
Keeping up the slow, steady movement of her hand, she dropped her chin to her chest and looked up at him from beneath lowered lashes. “My hand’s getting tired. Want to take over?”
Not saying anything, he stood and stripped off his jacket. His shirt followed.
He’d always been built, but now he was built. His shoulders were broader, leading to a wide muscled chest and well toned abdominals. A smattering of dark hair covered his pectorals, then arrowed down the center of his body to disappear beneath the waistband of his trousers.
He unbuckled his belt and pulled it from the loops. With hands not quite steady, he slipped the button at his waistband before sliding his zipper down.
“Keep moving,” he growled, and Gina realized she’d ceased pleasuring herself while she’d been copping an eyeful of his rather spectacular physique. He’d been quite something in college, but now he was breathtaking.
She started moving her hand again, disappointed when he failed to remove his pants. She could only imagine how big he would be. If his cock was in proportion to the rest of him, she was in the process of becoming a very happy woman.
Nostrils flaring, he came to stand at the foot of the bed. She had a moment of panic when he grabbed her ankles, but he only yanked her down the bed until her lower legs hung over the end. He dropped to his knees and, realizing his intent, she stopped touching herself. He didn’t repeat his demand for her to continue, but instead hoisted her legs over his shoulders. Slowly, he lowered his head.
She scrambled onto her elbows, closing her eyes briefly at the light touch of his finger to her heat. He pressed her pussy lips together, then slid the tip of his tongue along the slit. Her core muscles clenched, her nerves screamed and she dropped back against the mattress. He dipped his tongue a little deeper, and she had to grip the sheet for purchase as sensation stormed through her.
The pressure built, making her writhe with abandon, desperate for his penetration.
“Quit squirming,” he ordered darkly, his hot breath coursing over her pulsing heat.
“Then stop doing that.” But she pushed her hips up toward him, desperate for more. If he did as she asked, she thought she might just pass out with desperation.
How wrong she was. Because although he stopped, she didn’t pass out. She had no time to do anything except be thankful when the next powerful onslaught to her senses began.
He pushed her knees up higher, until she was decadently open to him. His skin burned against her flesh and the heat from his body was its own source of assault. When his tongue plunged deep, she knew she would gladly have died in the battle.
He pushed hard, drew back. Pushed hard, drew back. Over and over until she was struggling for air and sanity. He slid a finger inside her, making her jerk, but still his relentless tongue continued to pleasure her. Another finger joined the first and brushed against her pleasure spot.
Her head swam, her muscles clenched, then behind her eyes lights exploded and ripples of undulating pleasure caught her in a dangerous spiral. Her entire body pulsated to his continual attack.
“Oh…God. Mitch.” His movements slowed but didn’t stop. As she came down from the heady heights, she felt desperately defenseless once more. Exposed. Vulnerable.
Finally, the relentless press of his tongue ceased and he came off his knees. She tried to lower her legs from his shoulders when he moved over her, but he pushed them back. His mouth was slick with her juices, his eyes dark and gleaming, his chest pumping for breath. Had she ever felt more desirable, more sexy, more wanton than she did right then with Mitch’s gaze boring into hers?
“Okay?”
She stretched her arms back over her head, enjoying the way he lavished attention on her breasts as she arched up. “You’re far too good at that.”
He grinned and moved up farther, the action pushing her knees up almost to her shoulders. She offered a silent prayer of thanks that she practiced what she preached and took flexibility classes at the studio.
He anchored his arms beside her. “At what? Eating you?” He dropped a kiss to her mouth. “You taste fucking good, too fucking good. I’ll be wanting another course.”
“I’m feeling a little hungry myself about now.” She reached down to his zipper, but he moved his hips away from her searching hand. “Come on. It’s only fair. You’ve made me come three times now. How is it that you’re not chomping at the bit for a little release of your own?”
When he grinned, she narrowed her eyes. “You got yourself off,” she accused sharply. “That was why you were in the bathroom so long.”
He laughed. “A man does what he has to do.”
She pushed at his chest. “Why would you do that?”
“Because I want it all to be about you tonight.”
“Why?” she asked again. For the life of her, she couldn’t work out why a healthy male with a willing woman would settle for a self-administered hand job when he could fuck that woman to his heart’s content.
“Because I’m a nice guy?”
Oh hell. That was the last thing she wanted to hear. Even though his cocky grin alerted her to the fact she was being teased, she couldn’t shake the realization that yes, he really was a nice guy. One who put a woman’s needs before his own. One who wanted it all to be about her.
That was not what she wanted. It wasn’t what she ever wanted.
Nice guys were dangerous. He was dangerous.
Besides which, she had a mission to accomplish. Despite the fact she wanted him inside her to almost desperate proportions, she needed that bloody photo.
She was a woman, for heaven’s sake. One with a thinking, reasoning brain as well as a body that—well, if she said so herself—was pretty desirable to men. If she couldn’t get her act together and give him a bit of his own medicine, she might as well give up right now and join the nearest support group for women who couldn’t heat up a man.
“If tonight is all about me,” she reasoned as he leaned over her, “do I get to request something I really want?”
He narrowed his eyes, but there was still a smile in them. “Maybe.”
She moved her hand down and reached for him, pleased when she felt the rock hard bulge in his trousers and the fact he didn’t push her hand away. “I want to touch you, taste you.”
His nostrils flared. “That could be arranged.”
She smiled, and rubbed her hand along his hard cock. While his chest continued to move with his deep breaths, she reached into his trousers. Through the cotton of his boxers, she stroked his prick. When he jerked and hissed out a breath, she pushed her fingers inside to find him hot, hard and pulsing.
She loved the feel of him, the way his stomach muscles clenched and his shoulders bunched. She loved the way his jaw tightened.
Taking care to keep the pressure slow and easy, she worked him. Soon his breathing came fast, shallow, and she sensed her chance.
“We should take care of the necessary. Condom,” she added when he frowned.
He jerked away, the movement snapping her hand free from his shorts. Saying nothing, he swung his legs over the side of the bed.
“You’re no fun.” Gina levered herself up to sit. “You said I could touch you.”
He threw her a glance over his shoulder. “We’re not going to fuck yet. I thought I made that clear.”
A change of tact was called for, so she moved up behind him and plastered herself to his back. “You can’t blame me for trying. And I still don’t get why you’re holding out.”
He opened his mouth as if he was about to offer an explanation, then snapped it closed. “Back in your studio, you accused me of lack of foreplay. I’m planning on showing you the error of your assumptions.”
“I take it back,” she said quickly. “I don’t know what I was thinking. You’re great at foreplay.”
He huffed a laugh. “Nice try.”
When he stood, she felt panic flutter in her chest. Was he about to call it a night and get dressed? Instead, he faced her and yanked down his trousers and boxers until his impressive cock stood erect and proud of his taut stomach.
Relieved, she sank back onto her knees and watched h
im toe off his shoes. He towered over her in all his fabulous glory and, unable to resist, she reached forward and touched her fingers to his hard length.
Like her, he knelt on the bed and she shifted until she could squeeze her knees against the outside of his thighs. He made to touch her pussy again, but she nudged his hand away.
“My turn,” she reminded him and wrapped her hand around his length.
She ran her thumb over the tip of his cock, and he sucked in a breath. Pre-come trickled out and she bent forward and licked along the tip. His hips jerked and his cock pulsed as she ran her hand slowly up and down his length, keeping her mouth dangerously close to the tip. His breathing came fast now, and uneven. So she lowered her head again and wrapped her mouth around the tip of his shaft. Slowly, she took him into her mouth, forcing back a smile at his muttered, “Fuck.”
She let her teeth graze lightly along his flesh and his hands clamped around her head, holding her steadily as she continued to pump him. His groans deepened, his entire body tensed.
“You’d better stop.” The pressure of his fingers against her scalp increased. “Fuck. I won’t be held responsible for shooting my load.”
Ignoring him, she kept up the relentless pumping, loving that he was losing some of that control he wore like a second skin.
“Fuck. Gina.”
His breathing came fast and furious now. She glanced up at him. At the clenched jaw, the eyes squeezed shut, the tension emanating through his whole body. She grabbed hold of his hips and squeezed her fingers into his flesh to stop him from controlling the movement. She wanted to do it. She wanted to be in control. Right now, with him like this, she needed to be in control.
He froze for a second, then his release came. Gina closed her eyes, savoring his pleasure and her own as she sucked him dry.
She’d never much cared for going down on Costas. But with Mitch…
He held her head and slid out of her. “Damn it to hell. You’re good at that,” he breathed, parodying her earlier compliment to him.
