Knock Me for a Loop

by Heidi Betts

  “Sucking.” He took the nipple into his mouth, doing just that.

  “Yes,” she groaned, pressing herself more fully into his ministrations. “God, yes.”

  He chuckled, more than happy to continue giving her pleasure. Something this delectable, he could do all night.

  “Like that?” he asked, continuing to lave one breast for a few seconds longer before moving to the other and repeating the same slow, torturous treatment.

  His gut clenched as she moaned in response, her fingers knotting through his hair. Lower, his dick twitched and his balls drew up.

  God, he wanted to be inside her. More than his next breath. He’d missed her so much. Dreamed about having her in his arms again for so many months.

  He stroked her back, her hips, reveled in the feel of her buttocks pillowed on top of his thighs. She smelled of her favorite spicy-sweet perfume; something one of the high-end fragrance companies had sent her years ago that she’d fallen in love with and decided to make her signature scent. It was a heady mix of ginger and cala lily, and had always made him unaccountably hungry—for her.

  Her nails scraped his scalp, sending shivers along his skin. Abandoning her breasts, he began to kiss a line down the center of her torso, leaning her back over his stretched-out legs, bent slightly at the knees.

  She went willingly, bending like a Barbie doll so that he could reach her navel. He wanted to go lower, and had every intention of flipping her over onto the mattress in just one…more…minute.

  Arching even more sharply toward his ankles, Grace put her weight on his knees. A flash of pain stabbed through the left one—not as bad as that day in the kitchen, but enough to make him suck in a breath.

  She straightened immediately, the haze of desire gone from her eyes, replaced now by the clear shine of reality.

  “I told you this was a bad idea,” she said, her mouth tugging down in a concerned frown.

  She started to pull away, to climb off his lap, but he was having none of that. Tightening his grip on her waist, he held her in place.

  “Don’t even think about it,” he growled through gritted teeth.

  “But I hurt you,” she complained, still holding herself away from him, though no longer struggling to leave completely.

  “No, you didn’t. A puck, a net, twelve hockey players built like fucking steamrollers, and a shitload of bad luck hurt my knee. You make me feel better. You make me horny as hell. You aren’t going anywhere until we’re finished here.”

  “You promised—”

  “And I’ll keep that promise. I’m fine. My knee is fine. I just need you closer—” He yanked her forward, face to face, chest to chest, pelvis to pelvis. “And it won’t be a problem. Trust me.”

  His words ended on a whisper as he held her gaze, his breath dusting her cheek.

  “Do you trust me, Grace?”

  Her tongue darted out to lick her lips and he saw the tendons of her throat contract and release as she swallowed. She gave a small nod, and the ball of tension in the pit of his stomach began to loosen.

  It wasn’t complete and total forgiveness, it didn’t even apply to the big picture when it came to their relationship. But it was something, and he was desperate enough to take what he could get.

  “Take me inside,” he murmured, his voice ragged, his lips a hairsbreadth from hers.

  She rose up an inch or two and he moved his hand down to her hip, helping to guide her as she centered herself over his throbbing erection. One hand folded over his shoulder, the other wrapping around his cock and positioning him at her entrance. And then she was sliding down, enveloping him, sending his temperature soaring.

  He locked his jaw and ground his molars nearly to dust in an effort not to groan, to scream, to beg. God, she was tight. And hot and wet and wonderful.

  She felt like heaven. Paradise on plain white ten-thread-count cotton hotel sheets.

  He wanted to pull her down, impale her fully on his aching rod, but he also wanted it to last. Slow was killing him …but what a way to go.

  Her lips parted, and she started to take tiny panting breaths. He was right there with her, nostrils flaring as he fought to keep his heart from pounding out of his chest.

  With a sigh, she sank down and covered him completely. The air huffed from his lungs, releasing some of the tension that had his muscles pulling cable-taut.

  Grace grinned, just a tiny, contented lift of her lips. But it reached her eyes, glittering there with diamond-like satisfaction.

  Her peaceful expression reached inside him, stroked him in places that hadn’t been touched in a very long time. It warmed him and gave him hope for the future.

  Sitting up, he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her close to his body. As close as possible without crawling into her skin.

  “I love you, Grace.” He hadn’t planned to say that, hadn’t planned to say anything. But the words were there, crowding his chest and burning a path up his throat. And when he opened his mouth, they spilled out like too many marbles crowded into ajar.

  Her lashes fluttered, her pleasure fading slightly.

  “I know that’s not what you want to hear,” he said.

  “I know you’re not ready for that, or for anything more than right here and now. And that’s okay—I don’t expect more. I just need you to know how I feel.”

  Squeezing her even tighter, he brushed a hand over her hair, refusing to break eye contact, regardless of how uncomfortable he might be making her.

  “I love you, Grace. I always have, from the moment I met you. And I suspect I always will, whether you believe me or not, whether you return those feelings or not.”

  He could see her bottom lip trembling, emotions swirling like a storm cloud across her face.

  “And I will never do anything to hurt you. I never have, not intentionally.” Running the pad of his thumb over that lip, he gave a sad half-smile. “I hope one day you can find it within yourself to trust the truth in that.”

  Her lips parted as though she were about to speak, but he didn’t want to hear her arguments or denials, not even another apology for not believing in her soul that he hadn’t—and would never—cheat on her. It was enough that he’d said his piece and made his feelings known.

  “It’s all right. You can relax, I’m finished now,” he said, placing a single finger over her mouth to keep her from saying anything. He didn’t want the evening thrown off track any more than it already was.

  Although it took some doing, he forced himself to offer her a weak smile. “We can get back to the good stuff now.”

  For a minute, he thought she was going to bolt, thought he truly had ruined things for both of them. But then she took a shuddering breath and gave an even jerkier nod.

  “Forgive me for getting all serious on you there for a second?” he asked, rubbing his palms up and down her back, doing his best to soothe and comfort her.

  She nodded, though he could tell her whole heart wasn’t in it. And then she surprised him by saying, “This is more than just sex for me, too.” Her voice was low, uncertain, the dark blue pools of her eyes reflecting the same. “I’m not sure how much more, but it is.”

  “Glad to hear it,” he quipped, trying to add some much-needed brevity to the situation. “Of course, if we don’t start wiggling around a little, I’m not sure we can really call this sex.”

  As he’d hoped, she laughed, and just that quickly the mood in the room lifted, lightened. Her arms looped around his neck, and she leaned in for a soft, slow, lingering kiss. When she broke away, they were both panting and the heat between their linked bodies had cranked up at least a dozen degrees.

  “So are you going to fuck me, or do you want to spend more time talking about your feelings like some pansy-ass girl?” She cocked her head to the side, mouth curved in a mocking grin, eyes glittering with amusement.

  “Oh, I’d much rather fuck you than talk,” he said. No thought necessary. “Of course, since you’re on top and you don’t want me t
o strain my knee, maybe it would be better if you fucked me.”

  “Mmm, good idea.”

  Her inner muscles flexed around him—a deliberate (and debilitating) move on her part, no doubt—making him gasp. His head fell back against the headboard and his hands grasped her hips, holding her tight and close as she began to move on him.

  She shifted back and forth, slowly at first, just enough to cause a slight friction. Although, as wound up as he was already, even those gentle motions were like touching the tip of a match to a pile of gas-soaked rags. And then she added a little up and down to the mix, and bursting into flames became a very distinct, very realistic possibility.

  He groaned, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from cursing a blue streak. His cock ached. His balls throbbed. He wanted to come so badly, he was ready to beg.

  But he wanted Grace with him. It was all or nothing tonight, no shortcuts and no one-sided finales.

  He reached up, cupping her breasts, running his thumbs around and then over her nipples until she whimpered and pulled her lower lip between her teeth.

  “Faster,” she breathed, and then matched her actions to the desire. Her hips canted, picking up speed. Her thighs clamped around his.

  His blood heated, running through his veins like molten lava. Leaving one hand on her breast, he slid the other down her belly, over the triangle of springy blond curls between her legs, and into her silken folds.

  She groaned, licking her lips and letting her eyes slide closed, and he wasn’t far behind. He felt himself moving within her…or rather, her moving around and atop him. It was sexy, erotic, irresistible. But it wasn’t what would get the job done.

  The pads of his index and middle fingers found her clitoris. Found and rubbed, using her own moisture to ease the way and build that slick back-and-forth slide.

  He increased the pressure, which increased her movements, making them both pant and huff and gasp for air. His chest squeezed like a vise, and every time she rippled around him, lifted off and drove back down, he could have sworn the top of his head shot off a good three inches. As close as he was to flying apart, he knew he wouldn’t be able to hold back much longer.

  “Come with me,” he grated, giving the tiny nub between her legs a flick before circling, stroking, doing everything he could to push her over the edge. “Come with me.”

  She bit her bottom lip, so hard he worried she might draw blood. She came down on him harder and harder, and he raised his hips, meeting her thrust for thrust until his vision turned gray and hazy.

  Her nails clawed at his shoulders while his hands clutched her hips and buttocks. She cried his name, stiffening above him, arching with pleasure, gripping him in the tightest, most exquisite iron fist.

  It took no more than that for his own body to go taut, for the pressure that had been building in his cock and balls all night—hell, for months now—to reach a boiling point that was forced to find release or consume him from the inside out.

  His fingers flexed against her soft flesh, brought her down on his still-rigid erection, and then he spilled. Wave after wave of uncontrollable ecstasy rolled through him, battering him against the shore, pulling him back, crashing over him once again. Her name passed his lips in a strangled whisper, almost like a prayer.

  And when she collapsed on top of him, falling to his chest so that he could feel her ragged breathing, feel the warm flush of her cheek against his skin, he folded his arms across her back and held her there.

  Right now, at this very moment, his life was perfect. Reality would intrude soon enough, he knew. But for just a while longer, he had the one thing he wanted more than life itself. He had Grace.

  Row 20

  Grace couldn’t remember ever feeling so relaxed or content. She could lie here for a hundred years, she thought, and never want to move.

  A scratching from the far side of the room, though, reminded her that that wasn’t an option.

  Zack groaned. “At least he waited until we were relatively finished.”

  She tried to chuckle, but it came out as more of a wheeze. Her head was on his shoulder, eyes closed, body limp and boneless with satisfied satiation.

  One of the strong arms around her back tightened, and he rolled to his side—his right, her left. “My turn to deal with him,” he said. “You stay here.”

  Like she was going to argue. She barely had the energy to draw oxygen into her lungs, let alone get up and do the doggie day-care thing.

  He slipped out of her, slowly and carefully, leaving her feeling empty and bereft. He’d only been gone half a second—was still, in fact, occupying the king-size mattress right along with her—but already she wanted him back. Beside her, under her, inside her.

  The mattress dipped as he moved to the edge and stood. She cracked open one eye, just a fraction, and watched as he hopped toward the bathroom on his good leg, keeping a hand to the wall for balance.

  She heard a scrape and a creak as he turned the knob and opened the bathroom door. Bruiser gave a happy yelp, and she imagined Zack jumping out of the way to avoid getting run over as the giant Saint Bernard burst forward and loped into the bedroom. He gave another joyful bark and leaped onto the bed, sending her bouncing.

  Grace knew exactly what was coming, but still she shrieked when paws the size of dinner plates pummeled her and Bruiser started licking her like a lollipop. Laughing and curling into a ball to protect herself from either massive bruising or melting from an excess of doggie saliva.

  “I think he likes you,” Zack quipped with a chuckle, leaning against the far wall.

  “I think he hates not being the center of attention and is going to make us pay for locking him up for twenty minutes.”

  Zack glanced at the digital clock on the bedside table. “Forty-five, thank you very much.”

  One corner of her mouth lifted. “Sorry, forty-five.” And then her brow creased. “He didn’t destroy anything in there, did he?”

  The curl of Zack’s lips told her the big behemoth had, indeed, done some sort of damage.

  “He kind of ate the shower curtain.”

  Her eyes widened. “The whole thing?”

  “Most of it. But he left the rings.”

  “Oh, good,” she replied, as though that made all the difference in the world.

  Bruiser continued to use her and the bed as a trampoline, and she started to get the feeling he was more than just glad to be out of the bathroom.

  “I think he needs to tinkle.”

  “I’ll take him,” Zack offered, pushing away from the wall and moving to find his pants.

  “No,” she told him, bending and squirming until she’d extricated herself from the hundred-and-fifty-pound ball of fur. “It will be quicker if I do it.”

  He didn’t respond, but she felt his gaze following her as she dug a T-shirt and jeans out of her suitcase and shrugged them on. She slipped the room’s key card into her back pocket, then found Bruiser’s leash and snapped it to his collar.

  “You know,” she drawled, as Bruiser dragged her toward the door, “we do have a few condoms left over there.” She tipped her head in the direction of the nightstand. “When I get back, maybe we can put them to use.”

  His expression didn’t change, but his eyes glittered with heat and intense sexual interest. That same heat skittered through her veins as she skipped out of the room and sneaked Bruiser down a rear stairway for a quick potty call so she could rush back upstairs for a nice, leisurely booty call.

  Thankfully, when she got back to the room with an empty-bladdered Bruiser, he settled right down on the blanket that Zack had retrieved from the bathroom and arranged on the floor at the foot of the bed and fell asleep. And a snoozing Saint—provided he wasn’t snoozing smack-dab in the middle of the bed between them—allowed them to make love again. With any luck, more than once.

  For the second time that night, Zack was naked and waiting for her—something that Grace decided she could easily get used to.

  Strippin
g off her clothes, she let them fall where she stood, then slowly crawled her way across the mattress to join Zack beneath sheets warmed by his body heat. He wrapped his arms around her and drew her close for a long, leisurely kiss.

  “Mmm,” he murmured when he finally lifted his lips from hers, brushing the corner of her mouth with the pad of his thumb. “You were gone too long.”

  “Your dog has a bladder the size of the Goodyear blimp. Don’t blame me if it takes him a while to empty it.”

  Zack chuckled. “Maybe we should stop giving him water until the end of our trip.”

  “That would be cruel.”

  “Well, then, maybe we should take advantage of every moment he doesn’t have to take a leak.”

  At that, his hand smoothed down her arm, onto her bare hip, and along the outside of her thigh. She lifted the same leg, careful not to bump his injured knee as she draped herself over him. “I’m all for that.”

  She pressed herself close, loving the feel of his hard, only slightly hairy chest against her bare, beaded nipples and the eager press of his erection at the apex of her thighs. Reaching between them, she eagerly stroked his rigid length, only to find it…smoother than usual.

  With a brow winging upward, she leaned back slightly to regard him. “Somebody was feeling rather sure of himself.”

  “Hey,” Zack said, his face a study in seriousness, “I’m a relatively hot guy, confined to a hotel room for the night with an equally hot babe who already let me into her pants once. I figured there was a fifty-fifty chance you’d come back raring for round two and thought I should be ready for action.”

  “You’re a very arrogant man,” she told him, still stroking his latex-covered penis.

  “Was I wrong?” he asked, the words cocky even when grated through clenched teeth.

  She shook her head. “Not wrong, just arrogant. Luckily, I’m a fan of the Boy Scout motto.”

  Slipping a hand between her legs, he found her curls damp and slid his fingers easily between her silken folds. “So am I.”