by Jo Leigh
Katniss wouldn’t turn off the lights.
Natalie wouldn’t, either.
He must have seen her determination, or maybe he just didn’t want to wait anymore. Before she’d even registered the move, her sleeves were sliding down her arms, along with her bra straps. Looking down, she was startled to find her breasts naked, her nipples hard and very there as her dress pooled at her waist, caught by her belt.
Max moaned as he cupped her breasts. “You’re gorgeous,” he murmured. “I want to look at you. All of you.” He tackled her belt, which wasn’t much of a challenge, and she closed her eyes as her dress fell to the floor with a soft whoosh of fabric.
“Oh, Christ. Look at you. I never expected—”
She opened her eyes to find him staring, his lips parted in a very flattering way.
He stepped back until he was no longer touching her, then one more step so he could sit on the edge of his bed, as if looking at her made him lose his sense of balance.
She moved one foot back to take off her heels, and jumped at his, “No, wait. Please. Leave those on.”
He didn’t look as though he was kidding. Especially when he pressed his palm against his very obvious hard-on.
She’d wanted new experiences. This definitely met the criteria. She curled her right shoulder and knee, although it didn’t hide very much. Not that hiding was exactly what she wanted to do, but being stared at like that was kind of intimidating.
“Oh, I know where I’ve seen you before,” he said, his voice very low and rough. “On those World War II pinup posters, with your ruby lips and your luscious curves.”
She froze right there. Just stopped. Her? A pinup? She loved those women, those images, had one framed in her office. It was probably the dress that had done it. Or her hair. It was what she’d always wanted people to see, but they never did. Never had.
He was the wrong Max, and yet...
There was no longer any need to pretend to feel sexy. Because she was. Truly. Like Betty Grable or Marilyn Monroe. It was intoxicating. Freeing.
No one had ever looked at her that way, with his three undone buttons and his desire-darkened eyes, and she was going to revel in it.
He wanted a show, and she gave him one. Slow and naughty, with a soundtrack in her head and a sharp need to press her thighs together.
This night had been fantastic. Even if he didn’t give her an orgasm it was already the best ever. She owed a great big thank-you to whoever had messed up the trading card, because tonight, she was her own dream come true.
5
MAX FINISHED THE job she’d started on his buttons and threw his shirt somewhere. He wanted to stand up, but what if she stopped? Watching her do her little hootchy-kootchy number was one of the greatest things he’d ever seen. She was awkward and sexy and embarrassed and brave, but she was also naked except for her red lips and her black heels, and he wanted her like fire.
Her breasts were great. Real and great and he already knew they were so soft he’d like to just hold on to them for about a week. Then there was her hourglass shape. If he’d ever gone out with a woman with a figure like hers, he’d have remembered that. Her hair, her lips, her slightly pooched tummy, the trim vee of her pubes—everything seemed so innocent it was terrible how much he wanted to spread her out like a picnic.
He stood, unable to sit still any longer, and sure enough, she stopped. Put her hand over her face. It killed him. He touched her shoulder, then her hair. “That was beautiful,” he said, slowly putting his arms around her. “Thank you.”
“I’ve never done that before.”
“I’m so glad you did.” He kissed her, holding back, taking his time. It was important for her to relax. At least the trembling from before was gone. When she parted her lips and swiped his upper lip, he figured they were doing just fine.
She might not be a delicate flower, but she definitely was more than ordinary. In school, at work, just living in Manhattan, he’d never come across someone quite like her.
He was glad she knew the score, though. A woman like Natalie needed more attention than he could give. One night, sure. In fact, one night would be perfect.
“Let’s—” He led her the few steps to his bed and folded down the covers. Natalie sat, and he could tell by the way she curled her shoulders he needed to do something now so she wouldn’t feel so self-conscious.
Undoing his pants got her attention. He had nothing to be worried about in the junk department, but she really needed to blink soon or he was going to get a complex. Her staring so hard was kind of sexy, but then, what wasn’t when it came to tonight? Besides, he’d practically popped a vein when her dress had dropped. She couldn’t have surprised him more. Well, maybe if she’d told him back at the restaurant that she wasn’t wearing panties.
The only thing he could do was finish getting naked as efficiently as possible, because if he kept thinking about that, he was going to pop before he made her come. When he straightened up, her lips had parted and her eyes were as dark as midnight. His cock twitched so hard it bounced against his stomach.
She jerked back in surprise.
No longer able to stand being so far from her, he helped her scoot over to the middle of the bed so her head was on the pillow and her bare feet touched the edge of the folded linens.
What a sight she was. Her hands slipped down to cover her breasts, and then moved down, revealing her hard, deep pink nipples. He had no real clue what made her embarrassed and what didn’t, but one thing he knew for sure: what happened next needed to be perfect. For her. A grand slam. All the bells and every whistle.
Once he was finally next to her, he cupped her face with his hands. Holding her steady, he kissed her deeply, and he couldn’t have stopped if the ceiling caved in.
Touching her from chest to knee, it was all he could do not to spread her legs and thrust into her and keep going until he passed out. But he curbed his impulse, choosing instead to smooth his hands from her breast to her belly, caressing the curve of her waist, her hips, her sides, and then lower still.
The tips of his fingers stroked gently along the vulnerable skin of her inner thighs. “You comfy?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, drawing out the word into a long hiss of satisfaction as he brushed the soft hair of her pussy. Patiently, while he stole kiss after kiss, he stroked her open.
She sighed with pleasure, but he wanted more.
“Tell me.” He dipped the pad of his middle finger into her, sliding the wetness up to her clitoris, tracing swirls around and around the hard bud, relishing the feel of it as it hardened under his touch. Her breathing changed, became shallower, her kiss wetter. “Remember, you can ask for anything you want.”
“I like you touching me,” she whispered.
When she kissed him again, it went on for a long slow time when she explored the soft slick on the back side of his upper lip, then back down, testing, teasing. His finger never stopped moving inside her warmth, growing bolder as the tension built. She jerked her hips, a little spasm, a preview.
He kissed her chin and nipped down her neck, breathing in her hot scent as he continued to make her writhe. He wanted to taste her, but not this time. Not yet. Now he wanted to watch her come apart.
She moaned as her body started trembling again, a whole different kind of quiver. Hips thrusting, breasts rising and falling with each deep breath. He looked down to find one hand gripping the sheet, the other moving on her belly, her middle finger mimicking the quick flicker he used on her clit. Damn.
She shifted on another moan. He pressed his mouth to the tender skin just below her ear, while one finger, then two glided into her.
Her body stiffened further and he leaned back so he could see her, careful to keep his thumb rubbing her clitoris even as his fingers plunged into her wet heat.
; “Oh, God,” she said, her voice as tight as her body. “Oh—”
She spasmed around him, arching off the mattress, squeezing his fingers. Her hand pulled the sheet until he thought it might tear. He didn’t stop as she moaned words he couldn’t make out, as she gasped and twitched.
He was harder than he’d been in a hell of a long time. One brush of his cock against her skin would set him off. Watching her climax was so damn hot he didn’t want it to end.
Finally, her hand touched his and, reluctant as all hell, he moved so his palm rested on her tummy, watching it rise and fall, the rhythm matching the heartbeat he felt as he kissed her neck.
“That was so...” She looked into his eyes and grinned full-out.
His laughter must have tickled her, if her little squeal was any indicator. “Natalie,” he said, realizing with a jolt that he had no idea what her last name was. “You are amazing.”
* * *
NATALIE TURNED TO him as she tried to collect herself. The look in his eyes was a little smug and a lot wanting. She felt as loose limbed as a rag doll. “This wasn’t anything like...” She stopped, feeling foolish for being embarrassed now. She’d been more out there with Max than any guy she’d ever been with, and it wasn’t even midnight. Or maybe it was, she wasn’t sure. It didn’t matter. “That wasn’t what I was expecting,” she said, finally. “I mean. It was strong.” She gripped his arm, needing him to understand. “So. Much. Better.”
“Sweet Natalie,” he said, kissing the top of her breast, “that was only the appetizer.” His grin made his eyes crinkle, but when his penis brushed against her hip, he winced. And stopped.
Her hand went to his erection. He gasped at the touch. She gasped at the heat and hardness. “Why didn’t you...you know...do something...for yourself?”
After a few long seconds when he didn’t do anything but bite his lower lip, he let out a gust of air. “I was busy.”
“That is so nice.” Her palm moved up and down the length of him, not exactly sure how tightly to hold him. Oliver didn’t like much pressure, but Tim had preferred a firm hand. She split the difference, and from the way he was straining—the muscles on his neck were a little alarming—she was doing okay.
He grabbed onto her wrist and she froze, but all he did was lie down. She couldn’t help leaning over him and giving him a kiss. Sweetly, he returned her kiss but she knew that he needed a lot more. When his eyes opened again and he’d let her go, she continued to stroke him.
Max’s eyes widened and he groaned as if in pain. Pausing, she questioned him with a look. His jerky nod came a few seconds later.
Before she began again, she licked her lips, looked down, first at her hand on his cock, then at her breasts, where he was sure to notice that her nipples were still as hard as new pencil erasers. Then she gave him a little squeeze before running a slow hand from base to crown.
One of the things she liked very much about sex was the feel of a penis. That juxtaposition of soft and hard, steel and silk. But men, they liked a little show. It still shocked her that she’d danced in front of him. Her, of all people!
“Uh, Natalie?”
“Yes?”
“As much as I love what you’re doing, you need to stop.”
She stopped. “You nodded. Did I do something wrong?”
“No,” he said, but his voice sounded strained to the limit. “You’re too good at this. I don’t want to come yet. Appetizer, remember?”
“Oh. Oh.” She snatched her hand back. “That doesn’t seem very fair.”
“Just give me a few minutes, okay? Five, maybe ten. Then we can, you know, continue.”
Nodding, she wondered if she should back off entirely. There was so much of him she wanted to touch. Simply watching him breathe was a major turn-on. It wasn’t as if he was a bodybuilder or anything. That had never appealed, but the men she’d been with before tonight had all been...soft.
Which hadn’t been a problem. She honestly didn’t think much about their physiques. But they’d been nothing like Max. Everything about him was toned and sleek. His chest was a lot like his cock—soft skin with no padding. Nothing but hard sinew and muscle underneath.
Her hand hovered over his chest, aching to stroke him from shoulder to thigh, but she held back. “Too soon?”
“Think so. Maybe, uh, maybe you could get us something to drink?”
A quick peek down told her that yeah, he was still impressively rigid. The length of him lay straight up to the middle of his belly, where a little pool of precome had formed just below his navel. A wicked tremor raced through her body, but she ignored it, at least for now. “Cognac? Water? Something else?”
“There’s bottled water in the fridge,” he said, his eyes closed again. It was entirely too tempting to pet him. He looked so...tense.
She realized as she sat up that she had no robe with her, and putting on her dress seemed weird. But there was his shirt, and lucky her, it smelled like him. A kind of woodsy something that was exactly right. She’d noticed it when she’d sniffed his neck.
The trip to the fridge was over quickly. As soon as she’d opened the door, she wondered if he ate all his meals out. There was plenty of beer, a good supply of water, large jars of chunky peanut butter and strawberry jam. A loaf of bread was in there, too, as was a knife. Guess when he wanted his PB&J, he wanted it right that second.
On the way back, she slowed her step as she looked around the loft. In any other city, except maybe San Francisco or Tokyo, it would have seemed small. But in Manhattan, where real estate was utterly insane, Max had a veritable palace.
She wondered if it was his or if he sublet. Maybe he came from money, although she didn’t get that feeling. She wasn’t going to ask. In truth, she didn’t want to know too much about him. Except for his body.
If Fred could see her now, he’d have a heart attack. Fred thought her social life was a disaster, except for game nights. Those he loved, but her choice in men? According to Fred, she was stuck in a rut that would lead her into a terrible marriage and a lifetime of regret.
Maybe she could somehow convince Max to take a picture of the two of them together. After they’d gotten dressed again. As proof. So Fred could take his prognostications and shove it.
She stopped at the door to the bedroom. Max’s eyes were closed, and while his cock was still hard, it didn’t look painful any longer. Good. She wanted another round of his magic before she had to go back to the real world. The thought alone was so unlike her, she shivered.
He turned his head and smiled at her. “I thought you got lost out there.”
She held up the bottled water. “I was able to find my way there and back again...”
The image of him sitting up, his bent elbows causing all kinds of wonderful things to stretch on his chest, was another Instagram moment wasted. But she’d remember it.
They both hydrated as she got settled in bed. Before she took off his shirt, she pulled up the top sheet and covered a good portion of herself while trying not to hide much of Max.
“You gonna take off that shirt?” he asked.
“It smells good.”
He put his water down and rolled over so his head was in her lap. Gripping her hips, he inhaled deeply. “You make me hungry,” he said.
Before she’d even figured out he was being literal, he’d maneuvered himself between her legs and yanked her a good ways down the bed.
“I haven’t even taken off your—”
His mouth was on her, his thumbs spreading her wide, his tongue licking her open.
She fell back, thankfully missing the headboard. Not only was the feeling unprecedented, because hell, he was enthusiastic, but it also made her want to go back to every single guy she’d been with, all four of them, and slap them right across the face, just like Loretta had in Moonstruc
k and oh! That was his tongue. His pointed tongue.
In a remarkably short time she came again, hard, like the first time, and before she got her breath back, he’d donned a condom and was leaning over her, one hand by her left ear, bracing himself as he filled her. The angle made his cock rub against her astonishingly sensitive clit and she spasmed. Again.
“Open your eyes,” he said, the words constricted behind his clenched teeth.
She hadn’t realized she’d closed them.
He was right above her, staring, his face flushed, beads of sweat dotting his brow. It shocked her, how close, how intense, how naked she felt. It was tempting to turn away, but she couldn’t. She could barely blink.
Another shock hit her system and she brought her legs up to curl around his slim hips.
“That’s it,” he said, lifting them a bit higher with his right hand. “This is what you wanted, isn’t it? You’re hungry for it. I can feel you milking my cock. Don’t worry,” he said, the words almost lost on a gasp. “You’re not done.” His thrusts grew deeper and faster, pushing her whole body up the bed. “Come on. I want to see it. Don’t close your eyes. Please. Let me watch.”
She couldn’t obey him. It was too much. The rub wasn’t there every time, which made each time it appeared more powerful. People weren’t meant to have this much sensation with their eyes open. But when she closed them, when she cried out so loudly it shocked her, he bent down and kissed her. Fast and deep. “Open them, now, Natalie,” he said. “Now, because I can feel you getting ready. Your legs and your hips are getting so tense you’ll break me in half. That’s what I want. Do it,” he said, grinding into her. “Come for me. Now. Now.”
She shattered. It was as if every part of her was connected to a trigger that had just been pulled. Her mouth opened on a silent scream as she contorted into a shape she didn’t recognize.
“That’s it. God, that’s gorgeous,” he said as he went harder, faster.
She opened her eyes again, barely able to see between the white spots in her vision. But his face. Exquisite agony. A low moan built and built until finally he slammed into her and froze. His breath, the air around them, the city. Everything stopped as he came, and she trembled through another quake, an awakening.
