He soaped her mons then used his knee to force her thighs apart. Cupping her, he massaged the area between her legs, letting his fingers slip into her momentarily. Her low hum charged his senses and sent his libido into overdrive. “Sorry, can’t linger here . . . , ” he murmured, “not now.”
She writhed beneath his hand.
“Sorry, baby. I’ve got to wash you before we play.”
With sure hands he lathered every slick inch of her skin. Using military precision, he covered all areas in a progressive pattern of quadrants, working from top to bottom—and paying an inordinate amount of attention to her firm buttocks and shapely, long legs—before he finally turned her and put her hands on the wall. She shivered even though the water was far from chilly. He chuckled and stood to kiss the back of her neck as he caressed her breasts. He sent pleasure racing and pulsing as his hand stroked her sleek curves. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips when he felt her tremble.
Slowly, he turned her back to face him. He tossed a roguish glance in the direction of her undulating hips and whispered, “That’s one of the things I love about you, you’re so sensual, so charged . . . it’s like you detonate when I touch you. You can hardly flatter a man’s ego more.”
He lathered both hands as he looked down into her uptilted face. With gelled hands, he threaded his hands through her hair, gripped her head, and brought her face to his. Forcefully, he took her mouth as his hands worked her hair into a frothy lather, careful to keep her head tipped back so he could ravage her mouth without drowning her in the process.
He tasted her moan and smiled against her lips as he recognized the coconut flavor of the Jelly Bellys he’d fed her earlier. He thrust his tongue deeper, savoring her essence, running it over her teeth, and expertly tonguing her inner lips and cheeks.
Oh, she knew what he was doing. She’d read about this. He was using those expert touches; those lingering kisses, those thick-tongued and bone-melting forays to literally leave his mark. Like the hunter, he’d chosen his prey, and now he was saturating her with his powerful, intensifying aphrodisiac. What teenagers referred to as swapping spit, was his literal goal. He was transferring male hormones from his mouth to hers, virile secretions that rendered women incapable of saying no and assuring a willing partner. He was ramping up her desire to a fevered pitch, and he damned well knew it. While his hands continued their magic, causing her scalp to tingle, his mouth plundered and took. Over and over again, he rained down frenzied kisses as he adjusted the angle, the depth, the force of his tongue. Just as she was about to put her hands to his shoulders to pull him closer, to force her tongue into his mouth, he dropped his hands, took the showerhead attached to a hose from the wall bracket, and fell to his knees at her feet.
While the showerhead began pulsing and spewing warm jets of water directly at her clit, spiking her desire and sending a fizzy warmth through her veins, he used his fingers to spread her lips, to open her wide to the streaking sensations, as he steadily aimed the stream at the pink little bud that was unfurling and blossoming.
His penis jumped with each sob and his heart swelled with each protracted groan, as he focused his eyes on her and watched her squirm—watched this most breathtakingly beautiful and intoxicating woman ripple with her building release. He was ready to catch her when her legs failed her, the showerhead already released from his grasp. He saw her haze of satiation, heard her strangled scream as he propped her up with his hands wrapped around her thighs. Foraging in her nest of tight curls, he rooted for the pearl he’d been playing with, then wrapped his lips around it and tugged.
The wail that came out of her echoed off the walls, and if he hadn’t known any better, he would have thought a wounded animal had joined them in the shower. But no, it was her . . . her head thrown back, her throat elongated, while she keened to the heavens, as if the pleasure was too much for her to bear. He sucked harder and felt her buck violently. Her hands slid off his shoulders, and she would have fallen to the floor if he hadn’t caught her. Boneless, she collapsed in his arms, sobbing and babbling a language he likened to Gaelic, then she went limp in his arms and passed out. He kissed her temple, smoothed her hair, and held her tight until she came back to him, her eyes fluttering in
the mist.
“You okay?” The beguiling wickedness of his smile could almost be taken for boasting. He knew exactly what he’d done to her, knew it might be many minutes before she returned to her senses, having come nearly undone in his arms.
Her insides were still jittering and her groans throttling back when she sighed, “I have never been this okay. I could die now and feel as if I have enjoyed the best this world has to offer.”
“That is the ultimate compliment. Thank you,” he breathed, his forehead pressed to hers.
“No, thank you,” she said and she lifted a hand to graze his stubbled cheek.
“Do you speak another language?”
“Not that I know of.”
“I wish I had recorded what you said, it sounded Gaelic, like a beautiful mystical chant. If I didn’t know better I’d think you were outside your body just before you fainted.”
“I don’t remember talking.” She immediately thought of Merlin and wondered if her subconscious was thanking him for bringing this man into her life.
He reached behind them and found the showerhead and used the nozzle on the side to stem the flow of the water. They sat, her in his lap, exchanging little nipping kisses until he saw the gooseflesh on her arms.
“You’re cold. Let’s get you toweled off.”
“But you . . . I haven’t washed you yet.”
“Plenty of opportunity later.” He lifted her, grabbed a towel from the rack on the corner wall and wrapped it around her. Then he turned her toward the door and swatted her ass. “Give me a minute and I’ll join you.” He turned the shower back on and quickly washed.
When he strolled into the bedroom, she was in bed, under the covers, shivering. Although dry, his skin was still steamy from his hot shower, so he slid in beside her and drew her close. She murmured her approval in his ear.
“You’ve got thirty minutes to take a nap then I’m going to wake you with my penis in either your mouth or your vagina. Take your pick.”
She looked up at him in shock, then blinked and managed a smile. She turned in his arms, with her back to his front, wiggled her ass against his erection, and whispered over her shoulder, “Isn’t there a third option?”
He groaned as his arm snaked around her waist and pulled her close. “There is indeed. And if you don’t behave, there’ll be no nap.”
Chapter Sixty-three
They slept for three hours. And woke hungry—both for different reasons. Being the gentleman, he acquiesced to her and called room service.
While they were waiting, he slaked his hunger by turning her nerves into paths of fire, kissing her from temple to toe and then stopping halfway to draw concentric number 8s with his tongue on her inner thighs. He made the tactical error of kissing up her body backward and unwittingly placing his penis within her reach. His body roared when she grabbed it and with single-minded purpose, worked him into a lust-filled frenzy with her hands, her lips and her tongue. He managed to flatten his tongue and keep it pressed against her clit while she sent surging lust through his loins and heat arrowing through his dick, as she licked and sucked her way to taking the upper hand and wresting control from him. Before he was aware she was even in a position to do it, she flipped him onto his back and within minutes had him impaling her.
The sensation of her shoving him up into her, taking him deep as she rode him, was incredible. He watched her play rodeo girl, as she sucked in her breath and hissed, then whimpered, “Yes, yes, yes,” when she shortened her strokes and leaned over him like a jockey. He knew this shortened the length of her vagina, and he used the new
angle to his advantage by thrusting and curling his abs in an attempt to touch the Holy Grail—her g-spot. It was clear he was giving her intense pleasure when she begged him, “Oh God, touch it, touch it, just touch it, there, there!” and sent them both careening into an orgasm that he felt to his core.
He came to his senses, feeling her stroking his very relaxed penis and murmuring, “This is as soft as kid leather. So smooth, silky . . . soft.” She bent and kissed the head. He didn’t remember her dismounting, but there she was lying on her side stroking him.
“You’re hitting a horse with a dead stick,” he muttered.
She laughed. “As malapropisms go, that one’s pretty accurate. But I’m not interested in anything more than being very appreciative. You were amazing.”
“I’m afraid all the credit goes to you for this one. You were poetry in motion. You rode beautifully. You didn’t sacrifice form for speed. You were radiant . . . glorious. You were definitely in your element, you were one with the beast.”
“Spearman?” she asked.
He chuckled, “Yes, Spearman. Although right now he most certainly is not reminiscent of either.”
There was a discrete knock on the door and he groaned. “Hop up baby, I’ve got to get my robe. Sustenance is here. In the nick of time I might add. You’ve sapped my strength and turned Spearman into Gumby. I’m going to need some serious time to regroup,” he sat up, ran his fingers through his hair and barked. “Coming!” at the door when there was another knock.
“Not likely,” she sang as she leaped off the bed and ran for the bathroom.
They sat propped against the headboard eating cheeseburgers and fries, drinking champagne and sharing a big slice of cheesecake. It was the identical meal they’d had on Bald Head, if you substituted the beer for champagne.
“I can’t believe I once thought you were a vegetarian,” he said. And instantly realized his mistake. She didn’t know he had access to her computer files, the ones that held her recipes that he’d noted were all meatless.
She frowned at him, “Why did you think that?”
“Oh just something Charlene said, she said she’s always worried about finding a place for you to get a salad on the rides.” As lies went, it wasn’t his best. But the fact that he had come up with it so fast, had to count for something.
“Oh, I didn’t know that. I do usually eat salads for lunch. I mean, if you’re going to go to all the trouble to exercise like that, you really should capitalize on it. I guess I’d better talk to her. I don’t want her worrying about accommodating me like that.”
“I’m sure she doesn’t mind. And what restaurant doesn’t offer a salad these days?”
“You’re right. But clearly, as you can see, no vegetarian here.” She waved what was left of her burger in the air. “But Tess is. Drives Roman crazy sometimes. If he orders a steak, he usually slices off a portion for me. Says he can’t see how someone can make a whole meal out of salad.”
Whew. He’d sidestepped that one. He’d better be more careful what he revealed. And speaking of revealing, he started making plans for later in the night. Laurel had said she wanted to take a long hot soak in the tub after dinner. She’d brought a book to read and was complaining that she hadn’t even opened the cover. He told her there was a baseball game on cable he wanted to watch so she wouldn’t feel she had to entertain him 24-7.
So, after dinner, he got her bath ready, and after she had settled into the tub, he brought her a glass of champagne. As he closed the door behind him to keep the steam in, he smiled at the woman who was chin deep in bubbles, bobbling a paperback and sipping from a tall flute filled with Möet.
Something warmed in his chest at the sight, and he knew he never wanted this woman to be anyone’s but his. He leaned against the door to watch her for a few minutes then topped off her glass before leaving her alone with her book.
She settled back into bed, snuggled up against the fluffy pillows nearly forty minutes later. Smelling like honeysuckles and gardenias, her nose still in the book, he smiled over at her. Then he leaned in to give her a kiss.
“Good book?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, it’s a lousy game.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. I wanted to play with you instead anyway.”
When she looked over at him and smiled that sweet coy smile she had, he murmured, “No, keep reading. I can do this without you.”
Before she knew what was up, he had shifted the covers off her, moved to the bottom of the bed and maneuvered his way between her legs. Then he lifted her cute little Gilligan and O’Malley nightshirt up until his target was in sight. And he settled in to play.
A minute later, she dropped her book to the bed. He grinned, then went back to what he had been doing. As he held her open to his gaze, thumbing her lips and smoothing her moisture over them, he was thinking of the story she’d written about Callie, Rand and Clint. What little girl doesn’t want her Daddy’s approval?
The scars of Callie’s emotional relationship had left a young woman in dire need of approval. Knowing she was desired hadn’t been enough; she had needed to know she was cherished for her beauty in areas no one usually talked about. He didn’t know Laurel’s story but doubted it paralleled Callie’s. While he knew some of her secrets, he didn’t know them all. But the ones he did know, he could act on.
While his thumbs held her open and he gazed at her with heated eyes, she squirmed and attempted to close her legs. Finally, she leaned up on her elbows, “What are you doing?”
“Admiring you. And from the way you’re creaming up for me, it’s really turning you on.”
She arched a brow. “You think telling me that I’m ‘lovely, smooth, silky, and as soft as rose petals,’ down there, is turning me on?”
“Something sure is,” he said with a huge grin.
“For God’s sake Garrett, you’re examining me like my doctor would!”
“Well, you must really like your doctor examining you then,” he said as her slick coating ran over his thumb. He had never in his life seen a woman get this wet.
Her face flushed crimson, but she didn’t say a word.
He raised the stakes. He bent her legs, put her feet flat on the bed, and pushed on her ankles until her knees were propped up.
So she wasn’t ready to cop to wanting this yet. He pressed her, “Have I misread your body? Tell me what you want. Is this off limits, me being down here, looking at you?” he asked with a wave of his hand in the area of her genitals.
“Lord no! I like you being down there. I’m actually dying for you to kiss, lick, suck, or fuck me with your tongue . . . Please, just for a minute, if you could . . . put your mouth on me . . . If you could just . . .” her breath was snatched away as his mouth lowered and he bent to the task he’d had foremost in his mind since before he’d met her. He marveled at the woman spread before him, at her complete surrender to the passion that was now overwhelming her. He fought to hold back a chuckle as he continued to pleasure her with his tongue. Psychology be damned—did any man ever understand a woman? Despite all his foreknowledge, he was still learning her in stages.
All indications were that she absolutely loved what he was doing to her, and that she couldn’t get enough, as her legs tossed back and forth, her heels dragging on the sheets as she opened her legs and used her fingers to open herself wide for him.
“Yes, Yes!” she screamed.
God. was she ever hot, he thought as she dug her fingers into his hair and pulled him closer. Incendiary was more the word, he realized, as under his lips she bucked, thrust, and wailed through one of the most intense oral orgasms he’d ever been privy to.
Her uncontrolled keening did something to him, unlocked an emotion he didn’t know he had. That desire
to please her above all else. To love her and lave her until she came to the conclusion that there was no other man in the world for her, no other man who could complete her like this. He shoved his tongue deep inside her and went for round two.
With his tongue flattened, he rubbed hard against her, pressing and holding and then vibrating as he moved his head back and forth impossibly fast, increasing the downward pressure. Then his fingers speared into her as his tongue circled, pressed, circled, pressed, then sucked. He knew the second she rose to the edge and teetered off. She exploded, crying out her joyful release. Her labia swelled and rippled against his tongue, pulsing with an erratic rhythm. Her vagina went into convulsions and clenched around his fingers. Her whole body trembled long after her head slumped to the side of her pillow. She had ridden the wave of ecstasy and she was spent. She was female Gumby, and he was nothing, if not proud of himself.
By the time he’d taken her up and brought her down two more times, he had a whole new emotion churning in his gut for her. She was thoughtful, sincere, caring and knowledgeable, with a quicksilver fuse to multi orgasms that excited the hell out of him—she was perfect.
He climbed up her body and leaned over her, his hands braced beside her head. He positioned himself, then thrust. The dazed look in her eyes, the slumberous look of a woman well sated, and the welcoming lips of a woman starved for the taste of him, caused him to outpace his control and speed to his release. He knew he didn’t have to concern himself with her, he could be as selfish as he chose—and he damn well was. His body surrendered to the ultimate pleasure of taking, his powerful orgasm rendering him helpless as he shuddered through the moment of crisis. He came out on the other side weakened and in total awe of the woman who lay beneath him.
Flash Drive Page 47
