If You Could Read My Mind

by Jeanie London

  She toyed with him, idly stroking as she settled in. Then, propped on an elbow, she lowered her face for that first taste.

  Michael had expected her to ease into pleasure, but she surprised him. She sucked him down whole, a lip-lock that crushed the breath from his lungs. Every muscle in his body gathered in response to that sucking pull, and she drew lightly again and again. He closed his eyes and gave himself over to her, utterly content with the turn this night had taken.

  Time slowed to a haze of erotic awareness…her wet mouth on his skin…her firm grip working him in lazy time…the tension inside coiling until he could only ride each stroke…fingers threading into her hair, touching an anchor as his ass came off the bed as she worked him knowingly.

  “My neck is about to break.”

  Michael opened his eyes. He found Jillian exactly where he’d left her—wedged between his legs with her mouth wrapped around him. Yet her discomfort had yanked him from his dreamy daze. He didn’t want to hurt her and was about to suggest a change of position…

  “Maybe if I bend my head his way…There, that’s better. Now I’m not rebounding off his stomach.”

  The hairs raised along his skin as he stared at her shifting her shoulders so she stopped rebounding off his stomach. Some barely functioning part of his brain registered that while he’d heard her speak, he hadn’t actually seen her. From where he was, her mouth looked totally occupied, working him with that steady, knee-melting motion.

  He was too passion-dazed to figure out what was bugging him about that, so he just watched as she stepped up her pace, sucking him in so far that he was sure she would choke.

  But, as usual, Jillian was in control. His body reacted instinctively, his thighs shaking, and he managed to keep his eyes open and his gaze on her face when she said, “I know what’ll make him get this show on the road.”

  She slithered her fingers beneath his balls.

  And as raw sensation and the vestiges of his reason collided, he finally pulled together what was happening.

  Michael wasn’t hearing what Jillian was saying because she wasn’t talking.

  As impossible as it might seem, he had to be hearing what she was thinking.

  4

  JILLIAN would have been content with bringing Michael to orgasm then falling asleep. Her body felt sated and heavy from her own satisfaction, and she wanted just to forget the ugliness of the past few days, get a break from the resentment she’d been feeling toward him. A few extra hours of sleep tonight wouldn’t kill her, either.

  But just as she had him on the brink, she sensed him holding back. She suspected he meant to prolong their sexy encounter as a way of showing his appreciation. And here she’d been trying to bring him satisfaction quickly.

  Pre Camp Cavalier, she’d have welcomed the possibility of a second orgasm. But today had been a long day in an otherwise unpleasant week, and she felt a mild sense of disappointment that she couldn’t give in to this dreamy sense of contentment.

  When she was this tired, lying down always proved the kiss of death. Her orgasm already had her on the verge of a coma. But Michael was trying so hard to make things right again between them. How could she do any less?

  But she’d need to find a second wind to get excited about making love.

  She managed to rally a show of enthusiasm when Michael reached for her and pulled her into his arms. With her help, he maneuvered them beneath the bedding then held her close, as if savoring the feel of their bodies molding against each other in the shelter of their bed.

  The moment felt drowsy and tender with him all warm and hard against her, his arms gripping her tight, his erection cradled against her stomach, proving that he wanted her as much as he always had. If she tried really hard, she could forget the unpleasantness of their argument and remember the days when they’d been young lovers who’d blown off the whole world to spend long days exploring each other with passion and enthusiasm.

  The memory of all that long-ago lust was enough to make her smile. Tipping her face to his, she captured his mouth in a kiss. His lips yielded easily beneath hers. He tightened his arms around her, until she could feel the press of his body everywhere. He was such a wonderful kisser, and they lay facing each other, snug in the cocoon of their bed, hands roaming lazily over bare skin, enjoying a leisurely exploration of contented bodies, twining tongues and shared breaths.

  Jillian would have been content simply to lie here forever, but Michael’s erection presented an only faintly diminished reminder that just one of them had been satisfied.

  Unfortunately, as much as she enjoyed the feel of his strong hands rounding the trail of her waist and hip, she wasn’t experiencing anything that even resembled a life sign. Her wonderful orgasm had used up her limited supply of energy, and she needed a bit of an assist to get moving.

  With a sigh, she brought her hands up to his face and forced more eagerness into her kiss. She pressed closer against him, nudging her knee between his until his hard thigh pressed against her sensitive places. She focused her wandering thoughts on the familiar feel of his body.

  Dragging her open hands down the length of his back, she traced the nicely rounded butt that had once been the envy of all the girls on her high-school cheerleading squad. During Michael’s senior year, he’d been firmly ensconced as the football hero, and not a game passed when one or the other of her fellow cheerleaders wouldn’t mess up a cheer because she was too busy staring at the star quarterback’s backside.

  Jillian had been a lowly sophomore at the time, and so proud to have been Michael’s girlfriend. Fourteen years later, and she was still proud to be with him, even if his butt wasn’t as tight. Sinking her fingers into his cheeks, she pictured him as he’d been during their college years, when he’d still been playing football while carrying a full course load, a dashing young student who could make love to her for hours on end.

  She could almost feel him as he’d been then, taut and hard, filled with that restless energy of youth. She inhaled the never-changing scent of him, all husky, all male, all Michael. She tasted his mouth, his smile wide and perfect. His kiss tonight wasn’t as demanding as she knew he could be…which wasn’t going to work. If Jillian expected to stay awake, she’d have to wake Michael up, too.

  Sliding her hands between them, she stroked his fading erection, thrilled when he surged easily to life again, his length growing beneath her caresses, promising her more of those yummy orgasms.

  Closing her eyes, she narrowed her senses to the way he felt in her palms, the pulse that made his erection throb with every beat of his heart.

  Suddenly, in her mind’s eye, Jillian could see him as he’d been a few years back…after college, but before their lifestyle and his practice had precluded the time for regular workouts. His smile was fast and charming, his butt tight. She conjured the image of him as a bad boy, wearing low-slung jeans and a worn leather jacket. Stylish sunglasses over stubbled cheeks, and a pack of cigarettes visible in his pocket.

  Mmm. He looked so good, and the first twinge of awareness cut through the drowsy haze that held her in its grip.

  Jillian broke their kiss and trailed her mouth along his jaw and down his throat, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his skin that placed the taste of him on her tongue and encouraged her imagination to gain speed.

  Her fantasy involved the image of a leather-clad Michael in her mind and the question of how she, nice girl from nice family that she was, could have encountered such a bad boy.

  Jillian decided that she would have met him purely by chance. Perhaps she strolled out of the salon on Main Street one night after work and he’d been standing there in full bad-boy mode, arms folded across his broad chest, leaning against his motorcycle—a sweet polished black chopper with neon purple underglow illuminating the chassis…

  What he was doing there, Jillian didn’t know, or care. The only thing she cared about was the look in his eyes as he raked his gaze from the top of her newly styled hair down the terrain
of her body to her bare legs and strappy sandals that revealed her fresh pedicure.

  With the illogic of dreams and fantasies, apparently, he wore leather while she wore a sundress, remarkably similar to the one Marie-Louise had been wearing the night they’d met, a floral print that was lightweight and feminine and molded Jillian’s curves with stylish precision.

  His blue eyes swallowed the sight of her whole, made her feel empowered by the approval that he didn’t bother to hide.

  “Hop on, gorgeous. If you dare.” His voice was throaty and low, filled with challenge. As if he’d pegged her for a nice girl who wouldn’t dare to associate with anyone like him.

  Jillian’s reason shrieked that he was exactly the kind of temptation Pastor Crowley had been warning against in every sermon he’d ever delivered from the pulpit. But she knew bad-boy Michael would take her for a ride on the wild side that she’d never forget.

  He must have read the answer in her eyes because he slid into the saddle and extended a hand.

  Jillian was forced to hike her dress high to slip onto the seat behind him. His gaze caught and held on the expanse of pale thigh and his eyes twinkled as she settled against him, slipping her arms around his waist, her thighs molding his tight butt.

  He glanced back over his shoulder, dazzled her with a grin and winked. “Hang on.”

  Revving the engine, he steered the bike into the street and took her off on a wild adventure….

  Jillian sighed when Michael pressed her back against the pillows, following her lead to trail kisses down her neck. She knew exactly where he was headed and that awareness inside her flared hotter. Stroking his glossy dark head, she encouraged his exploration, wondered what he’d think if he knew where her thoughts were wandering now.

  She didn’t think he’d mind. They’d discussed fantasies before, and he’d wanted to know only that he was the star in them. He was. His kisses were bringing her whole body to life as he lavished them on her breasts. Desire pulsed greedily as if a powerful engine really growled between her thighs, triggering every nerve ending into such need that she couldn’t help but squirm….

  Bad-boy Michael pressed back just enough to force her sundress to ride up even higher. His tight butt wedged neatly between her legs, forcing her legs even wider. His hard thighs in rough denim felt warm against her bare skin. He rocked his hips back and forth to create a steady rhythm against all her sensitive places, and she didn’t know if he meant to tease her or torture her with arousal. Either way, the combination of that motion and the vibration of the engine had a powerful effect.

  Both in fantasy and reality.

  Jillian stroked Michael without conscious thought. They knew each other so intimately that she didn’t have to think, only touch him and respond to his touches. She only had to slice her hands over his body to feel the warmth of his skin beneath her fingertips, to lift her hips and ride his erection to make him quiver with arousal.

  He indulged her breasts with a marvelous combination of gentle kisses and demanding caresses. She finally couldn’t resist the need inside her. Wrapping her legs around his, she maneuvered him into position and urged him to sink inside her.

  She sighed hungrily as he eased in, crowding the air from her lungs as he filled her with that glorious heat, swelling inside to touch all those places that shot a live current through her body. Raising her hips, Jillian let her body respond instinctively, met his every long languorous stroke, and strengthened the ache growing inside. She let her hands roam as freely as she allowed her imagination to run wild….

  Bad-boy Michael drove her to the parking garage at the mall. The place was packed with cars for the night-time showings at the movie theater. He had to circle through the rows to find an empty space, forcing Jillian to cling to him to keep her balance.

  Security lights illuminated the darkness from the corners of the garage, throwing the long aisles into gloom and shadow, the sort of place where no woman would feel safe to walk alone at night.

  She wasn’t alone. Michael would never let any harm come to her. Not on his watch. When he finally maneuvered the bike to an empty space between a wall and a row of parked cars, he cut the engine and slid out of the saddle in a burst of masculine grace. He extended his hand and she slipped her own within, threaded her legs over the seat with some not-quite-unintentional glimpses of bare thighs.

  She gained her feet then made a move to pull free, but Michael didn’t let her go. He tightened his grip and crowded her against his bike. His hips bumped hers until she could feel the rock-hard erection straining inside his jeans. Tipping her face to his, she met his hungry gaze, knew in that instant they were going to kiss.

  Swaying against him, Jillian eagerly tossed aside all her good-girl ideals for the night. She intended to enjoy a daring encounter with her fantasy man. Slipping her arms around his neck, she held her breath when he slanted his mouth across hers.

  This turned out to be a kiss unlike any she’d ever experienced. His mouth was all possession. The bold thrust of his tongue was all demand. He seemed to drink in the taste of her on each breath, to know that his boldness was making her melt inside.

  Tightening her arms around him, she hung on when her knees grew liquid. With her body pressed up against his, she could feel every hard muscle of a body that would be a joy to discover. She thrilled to the wild thought.

  And Michael knew, oh, he knew exactly how to press the moment to his advantage. Anchoring an arm around her waist, he braced her against him while sliding a hand under her sundress.

  Jillian gasped against his mouth as he pushed aside her panties and hungrily explored her, dragging his fingers through her moist folds, pressing calloused tips inside just enough to tease and torment her.

  He touched her as if he didn’t need permission. By hopping onto his bike, she’d given him the right to make her respond, to take her places she’d never dared go. By her actions, she’d relinquished all control to him. Now she would answer his demands—no matter what he demanded.

  She could feel the cool night air caress her bare thighs, such a sharp contrast against the heat of his hand, the fire of his touch. She couldn’t see around his broad shoulders, didn’t know who might chance upon them, but she knew there would be no mistaking that they were making out in a public place, not with her legs spread wide and his hand wedged between them. Not when his hips arched to ride his erection against her.

  Jillian had hopped onto Michael’s bike willingly. Now she would have to live up to his challenge or cry foul and run screaming, because he intended to push her further than she’d ever been pushed.

  She could see it in his daring expression. She could feel it in his bold touches.

  Splaying his hand, he forced her legs wider, riding those callused fingers in the moisture of her desire back into places only he would dare to go. Jillian gasped and tried to close her thighs against such an intimate touch, but he only laughed…he pressed his fingers closer, not enough to penetrate, only enough to start up a throbbing that seemed to pulse through her body as an electrical current.

  Her impulse was to resist, but almost instantly the intensity of the pleasure rendered her unable to do anything but hang on as he explored her at his leisure, as sensation surged through her until her will no longer seemed her own. Her thighs fell open wider, her body hungry for this pulsing delight that made her ride his hand to feed such greedy sensations.

  In an instant, she was no longer worried about who might walk by, but tantalized by the thought that someone might…that they could be caught in such an erotic pose. Just the thought renewed her determination to follow where he led, to capture each sensation in case they were interrupted. She was left with this powerful ache inside, an ache only her bad boy could possibly satisfy.

  He must have known the only thing that mattered now was his hands on her. How much she wanted him. How much he wanted her.

  And he wanted her, no question.

  He pushed her, dared her to protest because the possi
bility of her resistance and their discovery only heightened his own arousal. The question of her surrender lent weight to this moment, challenged him and empowered her.

  Jillian understood. She felt caught up in the moment, challenged to be secretive, fast, bold, aware, in case someone happened by. She found herself drawn completely in by that urgency, so aroused. She, a girl who followed the rules, lived a life that while full didn’t veer off too far to either the right or the left. Here she was with her legs spread wide to this man, riding his skilled fingers, wanting nothing more than for him to slip his hand down her collar and place his hand on her breast.

  He must have read her thoughts.

  Suddenly his hand slid up her back to her zipper. In a few fast moves, he pushed open her bodice. He didn’t bother unfastening her bra, only shoved it up and out of the way, allowing her breasts to spring free in the cool night air, a gleam of pale skin in the shadows.

  He let out a throaty growl, thrilling her with the knowledge of how much she affected him. Then the breath caught in her throat as he lowered his face…his mouth latched onto a sensitive tip hard enough to make her gasp. He sucked in her nipple in a slow wet pull, his tongue flicking firmly and heightening her arousal so much that had it not been for his hand between her thighs and the bike saddle behind her, she’d have melted into a puddle at his feet.

  Dragging her fingers through his hair, she arched her back so he could pay sexy attention to one breast then the other while rocking her hips to the skilled pressure of his fingers.

  Time ceased to exist as he coaxed her body to pulsing life with his intimate touches, until she forgot to breathe because the promise of the oncoming orgasm swelled hard. She abandoned herself to its approach, eager for the waves of this pleasure to overtake her…until a sound penetrated her passion-drenched haze.

  Footsteps.

  The steady tread of soft soles echoed over asphalt. The hush of breathing in the thick air. The jangle of metal against metal. Handcuffs.