“Yeah. But then I dreamed of you, too.”
“And what happened in this dream?” he asked, his gaze skipping between my eyes and mouth.
I pulled his zipper down. “You carried me to bed.” My fingers tightened over his hips, dragging him closer. “You crawled over me.”
His breath caught, and he was staring at my mouth. He made a little sound, that sound that men have to tell a woman they’re listening when they aren’t, not really.
“Don’t you want to know what you did next?” I asked. I smoothed my hand over his shaft through his underwear. He was hot under there, and so very hard.
“Yes,” he said, but I would have bet money he had no idea what he was saying yes to.
“You… dipped your head between my legs, and you licked me.” I felt my nerves pinging with the echoes of pleasure, even now. I dragged his underwear downward, freeing him at last.
“Suzy…” He couldn’t figure out what to do with his hands. They hovered over my shoulders, my hair. He tugged his shirt up out of my way, and shifted, swaying against me.
I leaned in and licked him, one long stroke from the base all the way to the tip. I felt him pulse under my tongue, felt the tremor that seemed to wrack his whole body, and I smiled.
“Do you know what happened then?” I asked. I wrapped one hand around him, delighting in his solid girth, and nuzzled him, flicked my tongue over the rougher skin of his scrotum.
“I… what?”
Oh, he was easy. I loved it.
“We were making love,” I murmured against his skin. “You were deep inside me.” The area in question pulsed with a growing ache.
He nudged against me. “Yes.”
Yup, he had no clue what I was saying. He was so totally mine.
I rubbed the precum beaded at the tip of his cock, traced the ridge around the head. “And then… our ship had been hit, and our shields were suddenly down to 69%.”
“Ship? Sixty—fuck,” he gasped.
I’d taken him in my mouth. My pussy burned as he pushed back toward my throat. He was big, so solid, the feel of him making me flush with pleasure. As I began a slow rhythm, rubbing him with my tongue, I remembered the dream. How he’d moved into me in deep, thick, solid thrusts. And the boat. How he’d pinned me against the wall on the barge, how he’d cum inside me. I shivered and sucked him deep.
Long moments later, I pulled back until he popped free. He shuddered again, and his murmured prayers fell softly on my ears. I looked up at him past his glistening cock. “I made that up,” I said.
He pushed himself down until he pointed back at my mouth. Hint, hint. His expression was demanding, but also desperate.
My lips curved. I flicked my tongue teasingly across his blunt head. “The 69,” I clarified. “I just came up with that number because—”
“Suzy. Please.”
“Oh, all right.” I fed him into my mouth, sliding my tongue firmly along the underside, all… the way… down. I could taste his excitement, little hints of salty-sweet. I cupped his balls, loving how his abs trembled with each of my strokes.
His face was drawn tight, his eyes trying to focus through a tornado of pleasure. I loved seeing what I did to him, his expression as he watched his cock slide through the ring of my lips. His muscles strained, and yet his fingertips brushed feather-soft across my shoulders.
I cupped my breast, pinched my own nipple, and let the sweet sting drive me onto him. I breathed between long, thick thrusts, my body an instrument of heat. It was a good thing my knees were pressed to the floor, because they were trembling fast as a hummingbird’s wings.
I slid my hand downward, wedging it into my pants. I pushed forward, taking as much of him as I could even as I dipped my fingers into my pussy. I spread the lush wetness around my clit, teasing myself even as I drew back to tease him. My focus narrowed as my fingers echoed the slide of his cock into my mouth again, and again.
My body was on fire, responding to his steely thickness, the salty tastes of his precum, and the erotic sounds he made. The way he tugged on my hair.
My fingers rubbed faster through my soaked folds. I was moaning with every breath, my hips grinding, rapidly losing control.
“I want you,” Ed said suddenly. He pulled away, and hauled me to my feet. My legs promptly collapsed, but he caught me, set me on the counter, and wedged himself between them.
“Yes,” I said, opening for him. He thrust against me, rocking me back against the mirror, rubbing me hard through my pants.
My… pants. “Dammit.” Whoever had invented pants was the devil. I hated him, he should die. From now on, it was skirts for me.
After catching my balance, I pushed at Ed. He’d managed to rip his shirt off, and curled his arms around my back. Crowding close, he kissed me.
Ah, fuck it. I looped my arms around his neck and kissed him back.
I felt like laughing. Ed was everything I wanted, we were in his cabin, and we had all night. And we were fumbling like schoolkids.
I hooked my legs around him, and dragged him closer. He slid one of his hands between us, pressed his thumb against me through my pants, and found me soaked through. He thrust against me again, making us both groan. I sucked his tongue, feeling like I might have steam coming out my ears.
I was holding him so tight that when he leaned back, he lifted me off the countertop. “Suzy,” he murmured against my mouth. He squeezed my thighs, his breath noisy in my ears.
I rubbed myself against the hard length of his erection. It was trapped between us—again!—and I was frustrated that he wasn’t inside me. Frustrated because I’d actually been getting close earlier. Frustrated because, well… Ed!
“Please,” I muttered. “Please.” I hitched myself up, relishing the friction.
“Your pants,” he said. And, “Shit, the water.”
“I know.” I kissed him still deeper, until I didn’t know where his mouth ended and mine began. I rocked on him, my body fizzing, damn close to a dry-hump orgasm.
His only answer was a low groan as he pulled me closer, lifted me up, and walked us over to the tub. He got the water shut off before we flooded the place, then hurried me back over to the sink. “Down,” he ordered.
My muddled mind must have made me obedient, because I slid down off him. He yanked at my pants, dragging them down my hips to pool around my quivering knees.
I was awful surprised when he spun me around. He took my hands, and guided them to the mirror as he bent over me. I gasped as I felt his erection ride against my butt. I pushed up on tiptoes, trying to get it a little closer to where I wanted it.
“Okay?” he asked into my ear. His hands slid down my arms to knead my breasts.
“Y-yes.” The contrast between the cool countertop and his hot hands was startling.
He rubbed his hand down over my hip, and pushed my pants down until they fell around my ankles. Then he was touching me, his hand sliding between my thighs, fingers parting my slick, swollen folds.
“Yes,” I said again. I couldn’t stop watching him in the mirror.
He glanced down as he guided himself to my entrance. But then, as he started to press inside, he looked up at me. Watched me in the mirror as he nudged forward.
I was panting, my fingers curling. My hair was floating around my flushed face, and there were red marks along my neck. I looked needy as fuck.
He smiled, all disheveled hair and glowing hazel eyes, and thin undershirt that I hadn’t managed to get off him. I was having evil thoughts about the inventors of shirts, as well.
His gaze holding mine, he pressed forward, stretching me. I moaned, glad I had the counter to hold onto. He pulled back just a bit, then sank farther in.
Deep, deep. I pressed my forehead to the counter with a moan. My hands slid down, and I knocked over the toothbrush holder, but I didn’t care. The raised edge of the basin dug into my breast. I clutched at the faucet.
He paused, his hand gentle on my hip. “Okay?” he asked.
> I moaned again.
He leaned over me, pushed my hair aside, and kissed my neck. He did it in a hot way, tasting my skin.
His name was a helpless sound on my lips. I couldn’t believe this, couldn’t believe how amazing he was, how he read me without hearing the words. He gave me time to adjust, romanced me, and made my whole body shiver. Lying beneath him, folded over his bathroom sink, his thick cock buried in me, pulsing with each beat of his heart… I was in awe.
But soon, the need for him to move grew unbearable. I wiggled, gyrating my hips, begging him. I wanted to feel it, feel each inch of him sliding so smoothly into me.
He pulled away, a long, long withdraw until the crown of his cock caught just at my entrance. “Ed,” I cried in desperation, looking up to meet his eyes again in the mirror.
Maybe that’s what he’d been waiting for. He sank into me again, high and deep, until his hips pressed into mine. His gaze was full of satisfaction, of possession. He gripped my hips, and did it again.
I was throbbing, a full-body, soul-deep throb. My muscles tightened around him with each retreat, not wanting to let him go, and with each advance, welcoming him back.
His hand came down on the counter as he worked himself into me. He bent over me again, scraped his teeth across my shoulder.
I just about came unglued. I shook underneath him, harder with each solid thrust, with the slapping press of his balls against my clit. I panted, but couldn’t seem to find enough air.
I started to move under him, my hips tilting of their own accord, the muscles along my back tightening. He moved harder. Which is exactly what I wanted. Needed.
I was crying out with every breath, helpless little sounds of pleasure. I squeezed the shit out of the faucet, did my damnedest to rip it from its moorings. Pleasure pounded through me, higher and higher, echoing the thrust of Ed inside me.
And then… well… we were hit. I could practically hear the klaxon’s wail, the shuddering as our shields failed. If my mouth hadn’t been 69% numb, I might have even called him Scotty.
My vision wasn’t all it could have been—were the lights flickering?—but I could see Ed’s grin. His brow was sweaty, his arms straining, but as I plummeted over that edge, he bared his teeth in a triumphant, incredibly happy smile.
It was freefall for what felt like the longest moment of my life, like a vacuum in my very soul—a black hole I thought I’d never emerge from. Then, impact. I burned up. I exploded.
I came. Hard.
I was paralyzed by it, a cold fire taking hold of my nerve endings and expanding until it pushed out all intelligent thought. I just hung onto the faucet as my body squeezed around him, and Ed rode me into oblivion.
I think he came too. Honest to God, I wasn’t really paying attention. He might have groaned. I think he shuddered. He pushed deep one last, amazing, satisfying time, and held.
Then he lifted me, gathered me against him, and his breath was like butterfly kisses against my cheek.
I was sitting between his legs, leaning back against his chest. He’d pulled me into the bathtub with him, and the bubbles were up to my chin. The only sound was our breathing, the occasional drip of water. His fingertips were running softly over my belly.
My mind was catching up with recent events. Right. His talking-to.
“A fight club?” I asked. “Really?”
I could practically feel his smile, but he didn’t answer.
“Why a fight club?”
“Ralph started it,” he said. His voice vibrated in my ear, rumbled against my back. “He opened the bar, and started the fight club in the basement the next year. It was the perfect diversion for fishermen—booze, and fisticuffs.”
Under the water, I ran my nails lightly along his thigh. “So… you grew up in a fight club? Dotty was telling me Ralph took you everywhere.”
He cupped my breast, making me squirm. “You were asking her about me?”
“Of course I was.”
“Because of the gold nugget?”
“Partly.” I leaned my head to the side, hoping he’d kiss my neck. He didn’t disappoint.
“Oh? What was the other part?” The question was a warm murmur against my skin.
“You, of course.”
“The mystery of me,” he asked, “or me, me?”
“Both,” I said. Damn, but the man had the perfect touch. He was gentle, but not so much so that his caresses felt anything less than masculine. He smoothed his hands slowly over me, but not so slowly that I got bored. A little impatient, maybe. But bored? Never.
His hands were drifting lower. “So now that you know my big, dirty secret,” he said, “do you see yourself losing interest?”
I scoffed. “I came home with you, didn’t I?”
“Suzy…” His hands stopped.
I leaned to the side and turned my head so I could look in his eyes. “Let me ask you a question,” I said.
His fingers slid between my legs. He watched my face soften with pleasure.
I wouldn’t let him distract me though, not this time. “Were you actually pursuing Helly, back when she made you cry at that party?” His fingers had stilled. At his look, I added, “Yeah, she told me about that. We don’t have many secrets.”
He sighed. “Yes. I was. But just FYI on the crying thing, it was an emotional time for me. I’d just gotten the news that my dad was dying.”
I froze, barely hearing past the first couple syllables. “You were?” I’d expected him to deny it, to say he was just being nice and she’d misinterpreted it. He’d been pursuing my best friend, when I was right there? My soulmate would never do that, would he? Would he? What the hell?
“I was.” Way to make a girl feel special.
“But…”
He cupped my face, and dipped his head to kiss my pouting lips. When he straightened back up, he looked into my eyes. “I’ve wanted you for years, Suzy,” he said. “Years.”
“But then why—?” I could have had him, all this time? All those years, it could have been me sitting at a picnic table making Helly jealous, instead of the other way around? All those years he could have washed my dishes, and scrubbed my potatoes, and told me his embarrassing stories...
“I couldn’t have you. When I first laid eyes on you, you were a teenager, and I’d just started working for your parents. More than that, though, as I already told you, you’re a gossip. And your dad’s a real piece of work, as I came to find out. And the fight club’s illegal. I couldn’t risk it.”
I shook my head. I still didn’t like it, the idea that he’d chase after anything in his age range.
He blew out a gusty sigh. “Of course I was attracted to Helly. She’s a beautiful woman, and almost as strong a one as you,” he said, melting me just a little bit. “We had a lot in common—she’s a fishing guide, I used to be a fishing guide. I wanted to get to know her, see if there was anything there.”
I looked up at him uncertainly.
His eyes narrowed. “I hadn’t been with a woman in five years,” he said.
My mouth dropped open.
“And I, like every man, have urges. A biological imperative.”
I started to smile. “So, what you’re really trying to say here, without riling my inner feminist, is that you wanted to hit that.”
“Yeah. Pretty much.”
I nodded. “Okay, last question—”
He made a disbelieving sound, which I ignored.
“—cuz I’m a direct kinda gal… You want more with me than just to ‘hit that’, right?”
His lips quirked. “I like you, Suzy.”
I gazed up at him, waiting for the inevitable ‘but’.
His eyes flicked upward. “I like your hair. I like… hell, just about everything about you. I love—”
Oh my god, had he just used the L-word?
“—how you enter a room. How you drive that big boat. How you sparkle,” he said, glancing down toward where my toenails would be. He pulled me closer, looking int
ently into my eyes. “I love how you brought joy to the last years of my dad’s life.”
I pushed back from him slightly. “I wasn’t sleeping with him,” I said.
Ed laughed softly. “I know.” His lips quirked even as his eyes slowly darkened. “I love how you tease me.”
“It sounds like your appreciation goes beyond my body,” I said breathlessly. What little of it there was.
“It does,” he agreed.
“So, you’re gonna want to have more to do with me?” I checked. “You know, after you have your way with me?”
“I’m afraid so,” he said, his voice so serious it bordered on grave. But his eyes were sparkling.
Oh damn, I wanted him again. “I think we’re clean enough, don’t you?”
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ed jerked, and pulled his foot away from my questing fingers.
“You said you weren’t ticklish.”
“I lied,” he said, turning to give me his back. Or… the backs of his calves.
I lifted my head, trying to figure out how I’d wound up with my head down at the foot of the bed. Had it been the reverse cowgirl, when I experienced post-coital collapse? Or the… yeah, probably the sixty-nine that came a wee bit after.
I sighed, staring up at the ceiling. “I still can’t believe you have a fight club,” I said.
“Mmm, why not?” His voice was husky, sleepy, and made me want to touch him.
I smoothed my hand along his leg. “You’re just… you’re you. And fighting is so… brutish.”
“It’s an outlet,” Ed said, turning back to me. “The guys get stuff off their chests. They beat each other up at fight club, where there’re rules and first aid, and they don’t kill each other after hours. Or beat their wives.”
I smirked, then jackknifed and crawled up onto his chest. “Your dad started it, right? Why did you continue it? Why not shut it down? Or hand it off?”
He combed his fingers gently through the tangles of my hair. “I enjoy it. I’m good at it. It’s something to do. Entertainment.” He shrugged. “Why not?”
“Because it’s illegal. It could get you put in jail.” And I really didn’t want Ed in jail. How long would he stay like this, wonderful, helpful Ed, in an environment like that?
Two Captains, One Chair: An Alaskan Romantic Comedy Page 28
