by Tarr, Hope
“Thank you for accompanying me.” He hesitated. His stark gaze searched hers in the shadows. A rare look of uncertainty weighted his handsome features. “Stefanie?”
“Nick?”
He swallowed hard, setting off a ripple along the corded column of his throat. “I should like very much to kiss you.”
Stefanie’s heart beat so soundly she felt as though it might break through her chest, not because a kiss was out of bounds so far as her seduction mission went, it wasn’t, but because she finally acknowledged exactly where kissing Nick would lead—bed. Lifting her gaze to his, all pretenses of staying in control flew out the proverbial window. There was no way you could want someone the way she wanted him and still be in charge, at least she couldn’t. The game she’d played this past week was on par with messing around with firecrackers, fun for the moment but ultimately bad for you, even dangerous. And yet for once in her life, this once, she couldn’t resist putting caution on the back burner—and turning the front burner up to high, not for Acropolis Village or even her grandfather’s legacy but for herself. After twenty-eight years of being an ugly duckling, it was finally time to embrace her inner swan.
Moistening her lips, she admitted, “I’d like that, too.”
He reached out, cupping her cheek in the cradle of his big, square palm. His gaze fastened on her mouth. A smile played about the corners of his. “I had hoped you would agree.” His thumb flicked over her bottom lip, stroking the curve as he had back at the restaurant, but this time there was no pretense of powdered sugar, only the honesty of desire. Using the bridge of his knuckles, he tipped up her chin. “I have wanted to do this since the night I first met you standing in this very doorway.”
Despite the heat, Stefanie shivered. She started to answer…God knew what, but before she could, Nick’s mouth descended. Lips, soft yet firm, claimed hers. A knowing tongue stroked across the seam of her lips, teasing them apart. For once Stefanie didn’t stop to second-guess herself. She opened. He tasted of anisette and desire, yearning and experience. Neither Pete nor any of the few men she’d dated before him had ever kissed her anything close to this.
The kiss deepened. Their tongues touched, tangled, sparred, their heavy breaths filling the porch. Like a thirsting woman suddenly given water, Stefanie drank him in, her arms twining about his neck, her hand sliding into his soft, thick hair.
His heat and hardness brushed her lower belly, and instead of drawing back, she ground against him. Nick groaned, the vibration echoing inside her. His arm cinched about her waist, his other slipping lower to shape her buttocks. She chafed her aching breasts against the hard plane of his chest, her firmed nipples pressing against the thin lace of her bra. A damp throbbing began between her thighs, thighs that no matter how dimpled, she suddenly badly wanted to bare and open. As if reading her mind, he settled a hand there and gently squeezed.
Laying her hand atop his, Stefanie lifted herself against him.
Nick jerked back as though she’d burned him. Taking hold of her upper arms, he held her away from him. “Forgive me, Stefanie, I did not intend to so lose control.” He pivoted to peer over his shoulder.
She followed his gaze out to the street. Other than the lights of a passing car and a few porch lanterns left on, the block looked to be bedded down for the night. If one or two neighbors spied on them from darkened windows, she was past caring.
“We’re not exactly disturbing the peace.” Cupping his jaw, she drew his face back to hers. “Even if we were, I wouldn’t care.”
“But I care. You deserve to be treated with the utmost respect, not pawed in public.”
She smiled, his Old World ways striking a tender chord within her. Emboldened by the knowledge that he wanted her, really wanted her, she told herself that tomorrow would take care of itself. For once in her life, this once, she was prepared to live for and in the moment. “In that case, would you like to come inside for a drink?”
A shuddering breath was his first answer. “I would like…whatever will permit me to delay saying good night to you.”
Smiling through her heart’s fierce fluttering, she teased, “Even if I only have milk to offer?”
It wasn’t far from the truth. The two bottles of Retsina she’d bought had been drunk at the other night’s dinner and the dusty bottle of ouzo had likewise been drained of its last drop.
A smile skated across his mouth. “I love milk.” He reached down for her hand, lifted it, and brushed his lips across her knuckles.
The caress, tame compared to the kiss they’d just shared, nearly dropped Stefanie to her knees. Her breath catching, she said, “Calcium is…good for you.”
A flash of white teeth answered that statement. “That is good. I will need to keep up my strength.” There was no mistaking the smile in his voice—or the promise in his words.
She turned away, fumbling inside her bag for the key, shivering as Nick nibbled her neck. Key in hand, she fitted it to the lock. The latter was old and likely rusted, the wooden door swollen from the heat, and Nick’s nuzzling a dizzying distraction against which she was powerless to defend. It took several tries, but she finally heard the confirming click. A twist of the knob took them tumbling inside.
She’d forgotten to leave a light on. The door fell closed behind them, blanketing them in blackness. And then Nick’s hands were everywhere—her face, her breasts, her belly. Spanning her waist, he lifted her as though she were made of feathers and swung her into his arms. Keys slipped from her fingers and struck the wood floor. Her hands found the tops of his shoulders. She wound her arms about his neck. Everywhere their bodies touched he was hot and hard, moist and muscled.
Carrying her through the foyer, he passed the staircase and entered the kitchen.
He set her down upon the counter’s edge, the granite hard and chilly. Hands on her knees, he parted them and stepped between. The feral gleam in his eye made her feel entirely desired and entirely safe. “Unless you object, I am going to make love to you now.”
Stefanie didn’t object.
Bracing his fisted hands on either side of her, he leaned in and kissed her again—hard. Bruising and deep, primal and passionate, Nick’s kiss was a sensual assault that accepted nothing less than her complete submission. Stefanie gave it. Caged by his strong arms, caught between his body and the wall, she moaned into his mouth, not because he was hurting her but because she loved it.
“God, I can’t wait to have you.” He lifted his hands from the granite, reached between them, and began tugging at the buttons fronting her dress.
It fell open. Air-conditioning brushed the tops of her breasts. Caught up in kissing him, Stefanie scarcely registered him unhooking the front clasp of her fancy new bra. His sharp intake of breath had her dragging her mouth away and looking down.
The lace cups fell away and her breasts spilled free. He took her in his hands. “You are beyond beautiful,” he said softly, thumbs flicking over her nipples.
A wave of pleasure washed over her. Stefanie shuddered. Before now, she’d thought of herself as big and not much more. But now she looked at herself, really looked, striving to see what Nick saw. While she was indeed big-busted, she was also pleasingly firm and prettily shaped. Coral-colored nipples stuck out as if begging for his touch. Nick gave it, rolling her between his thumbs and forefingers. Intense pleasure struck her, not only in her breasts but everywhere, in her whole body.
He bent his head and fitted his mouth over one throbbing peach point. Heat hit Stefanie—again, everywhere. She gasped and arched against him, seeking to bring them closer. As amazing as his mouth felt on her breasts, she craved his kisses and touch lower. A lot lower.
It was as if Nick divined her thoughts yet again. Taking a step back, he took hold of the hem of her dress. Gliding his palm upward toward her waist, he ferried the fabric with him. Chilly air touched the tops of Stefanie’s bared thighs, the gooseflesh a stark contrast to the heat pooling inside her.
Looking down, he murmur
ed, “So very pretty,” and traced the top of her Victoria’s Secret panties with a single, teasing finger.
Stefanie thought she might die on the spot, not from embarrassment but from anticipation. “Please,” she whispered, arching upward, her touch-starved body begging for release.
She didn’t have to say more. Sliding a hand between her thighs, he palmed her through her panties. Musk rose up between them. Stefanie didn’t need to look down to know that she was wet, her arousal seeping through the silk.
He stilled his stroking. “Do you trust me?”
A sob caught in her throat. “Y-yes.”
It was true. The billionaire playboy of tabloid and entertainment blog infamy was not the same man with whom she’d spent the past week. The Nick she knew was a loving father and now a tender lover.
It was herself she no longer knew. Gone was the ugly duckling, the Cinderella sans fairy godmother and ball. In their place was a swan, a fairy princess, a woman both desired and desirable. Primal power poured through her, sexual energy thrummed.
She smiled down at him. “I’m glad you like my underwear.”
White teeth flashed in the near darkness. “I like you.” Looking away, he grabbed the thin strip of lace and silk and drew it down to her ankles. His dark head shot up. “You are a woman of many surprises.”
He rubbed a knuckle along the narrow queue of curls bisecting her mons, and the painful waxing Macie had talked her into suddenly seemed worth it. So worth it.
He followed the line downward to the cleft parting her inner lips, and Stefanie caught her breath. “So responsive,” he murmured, grazing her slit.
The intimate touch carried Stefanie to the edge of the counter and the brink of orgasm. Wetness dampened her inner thighs. Everywhere he touched her, her flesh frissoned. “More, please, I want…more.”
Nick gave it. Slipping in her slickness, he slid a finger inside her. A second followed. Rhythmic scissoring nearly sent her over the edge.
Stefanie wasn’t wet; she was drenched. She lifted herself against his hand, her bottom leaving the counter. But Nick refused to be rushed. With his other hand, he found her clit. Slow circles brought him to her throbbing center.
He dragged her to the counter edge and dropped to his knees. His dark head brushed her lower belly as he angled his mouth to her sex. Beyond shame, Stefanie spread her legs to make room. The bottoms of her feet anchored to the shelf of his broad shoulders. She leaned back on her palms and prepared to give herself up to the pleasure.
But Nick seemed determined to draw out the torture, scattering petal-soft kisses inside one thigh and then the other. Deft fingers spread her. Warm breath fell upon her sensitized flesh. The point of a tongue probed her, teasing her clit. She jumped, her buttocks clenching against the counter as he drew the moisture from her slit.
“You taste like honey,” he murmured, licking damp lips.
He fluttered his tongue until Stefanie was sure she would die of pleasure. Only she didn’t die. She exploded. It was once more the Fourth of July, only the fireworks were all from within. Her engorged sex rocketed, setting off a starburst of spasms that seemed to travel all the way to her womb. Keening sobs tore forth from her throat.
“Nick!” She raked her nails over his scalp and lifted against him.
Finally the salvo faded. Breathing hard, she tugged down her dress, and then looked to Nick resting back on his heels on the floor. Sweat dampened his shirt, molding the material to his broad shoulders and muscled back.
“You’re amazing,” she said, though she suspected that wouldn’t exactly come as news to him.
She might be the nearest thing to naked, but Nick hadn’t dropped so much as a button. As much as she had always fantasized about a man putting her first, right now she didn’t want chivalry. She didn’t want to be relegated to a pedestal—or a kitchen counter. She wanted sex. With Nick. Sweaty, all-consuming, mutually satisfying sex. As amazing as his mouth and tongue and fingers had felt, as satisfying as her climax had been, she still ached to draw down the zipper of his jeans and take him inside her.
Chest heaving, he got to his feet. Sliding an arm about her, he looked from her agape dress into her eyes. “And you are even more succulent than your food.”
She reached between them and boldly cupped his groin. “Then stay with me. I promise you won’t be sorry.”
Reaching down, he covered her hand with his. “No, I will not be sorry. I only hope that tomorrow you can say the same.”
…
They made it as far as the foyer. The moment Stefanie turned to climb the stairs, exposing her beautiful backside through the sheer dress, Nick was once again lost, an animal. The taste of her in his mouth, the scent of her clinging to his skin, the echo of her release still keening inside his head—all slammed into him, a sensual swell he was powerless to resist. Suddenly he couldn’t wait to climb those creaking wooden steps to her room. He had to have her—now.
He lunged, taking hold of her beautiful buttocks, his fingers sinking into her lushness. Stefanie sank to her knees on the step above. Nick followed, throwing up her dress. He slid his hand beneath and stroked the elegant curve of her backside. Her panties were left lying in the kitchen. Were it up to him, she’d never wear more than a G-string again. Her ass cheeks were pale twin moons, taut and lush, and he longed to sink his teeth into them. He kissed first one buttock and then the other and then gently bit.
“Oh!”
He slid a hand between her splayed legs to the soft, fluttering flesh at her front. Warm and wet, she took his first probing finger without so much as a whimper, arching her back and bucking as if silently begging for a second. Nick gave it without hesitation, without warning. She moaned this time, her back and ass and thighs pearling with perspiration. He withdrew, anticipating her begging. Once again, she didn’t disappoint. She turned to look back at him, her eyes pleading for more.
Nick delved into her again, three fingers parting and probing her without apology or mercy. A strangled sob escaped her. Her fingers clawed the uncarpeted step above. Breathing in her arousal, Nick flexed his fingers, searching out the hidden sweet spot that would allow him to send her over the edge.
A strangled cry confirmed he’d found it. He worked his buried knuckles against it, again and again until…
“Oh my God, Nick!”
Stefanie convulsed, her inner muscles pumping against his buried partial fist, her cream drenching his hand, his wrist…
He waited for the spasms to ebb, then leaned forward and gently bit the back of her neck. “I am taking you to bed.”
Like the nymph Daphne fleeing Apollo, she scrambled to her knees and flew up the remaining stairs. Nick followed, taking the steps two at a time. Gaining the landing, he caught her roughly in his arms. Her dress hung open; her breasts swung free. Her mouth was swollen, her velvety brown eyes filled with wonder and satisfaction, challenge and lust.
He backed her inside the room to the foot of the brass four-poster. Thinking of all the ways those four sturdy posts could be used, he felt his erection firming to the point he feared his zipper might break.
She freed her arms and reached for him. “My turn.”
Buttons sprayed as she tore open his shirt. Her nails grazed his skin as she yanked the shirttail from his pants and peeled the sleeves off his shoulders. She bent her head, licking and suckling and nibbling her way from his neck downward. Her teeth grazing his nipples nearly sent him over the edge. Reaching down between them, she cupped him through his trousers. Nick groaned, covering her hand with his, coaxing her to work him. Only Stefanie didn’t need coaxing. Stroking his cock through his clothes, she lifted her head and kissed him, plundering his mouth as he had hers on the porch, bruising and biting and sucking him deeply into her mouth.
Breaking the kiss, she sank to her knees. Her tongue tasted his belly. Her teeth nipped the flesh sheathing his hip bone. She found the tab of his zipper and tugged it down. Reaching inside his open fly, she guided him to her mouth.
Her sweet lips sliding over him brought Nick to the brink of blowing his control. It had been six months since he’d been with a woman and the past week with Stefanie had kept him in an almost constant state of arousal. Threading his fingers through her hair, he closed his eyes and let her have her way. Stefanie took it, licking and laving and suckling him. Palming his balls, she slid one hand to his ass, her fingers stroking a trail along the seam bisecting his buttocks.
Determined not to lose control and cheat them both of the ultimate pleasure, he reached down, easing himself away to a saner space. Catching her bewildered look, he stretched out a hand and hauled her upright. Clearing away her clothes was the matter of a moment. Stepping back, he pushed her dress the rest of the way down, taking her unclasped bra with it. Naked, she stood before him, a dark-haired Aphrodite with satiny skin and bottomless eyes. A supple waist flared into generous hips and long legs that were both muscled and pleasingly slender. And her breasts, dear God her breasts… Despite his earlier feasting, Nick doubted he’d ever be truly sated.
He reached into his pocket and took out a condom packet. Eyes on hers, he shucked off the rest of his clothes, then tore open the foil and sheathed himself. Sitting on the side of the bed, he reached up and tugged her onto his lap.
She went willingly, winding her arms about his neck and wrapping her legs about his waist. “Are you really here or am I dreaming?” she asked with a sigh, her dark, disbelieving eyes shining into his.
He scooted them to the edge of the mattress and slid a buffering hand beneath her bottom. “You are not dreaming, sweet Stefanie. We are both here, and I intend to worship every exquisite inch of you. Only this time when you come, I want to see your beautiful face.”
He reached down and fitted himself against her. She was still very wet, easily as aroused as he, for all that she’d climaxed twice already. He thrust, sharp and sure, deliberately grazing her clit as he entered her. Stefanie drew a shuddering breath. She drew back and bore down on him again, driving him as deeply as he could go.
Nick groaned. “The kitchen and the bedroom,” he muttered to himself, his hands firming on her backside, his fingers sinking into flesh that was both generous and firm.
