by Teresa Hill
His hand settled against her head once again. She could feel the tension in his fingers, but he didn't use any pressure, didn't try to guide her in any way, just held his hand there on her. So she allowed the touch.
When she dragged her tongue across one of his nipples, his whole body bucked beneath hers and he groaned out loud, thrilling her to no end to know she could draw that kind of reaction from him. Especially when she knew how hard he was trying not to move.
She raised herself up on her arms, tried to give him a stern, disapproving look.
"You gotta be kidding me," he protested.
And she rose up on her knees and just stared at him, not touching him at all, until he looked properly sorry, or at least tormented. Then she turned her attention to his other nipple, licking it like a little girl with an ice cream cone and then sucking—hard—liking having that hard nub in her mouth as his breathing became ragged and his whole body tensed.
He cried out, and she stopped to ask, "Do you want me to stop?"
"No," he groaned.
She went back to licking that path of hers, down to his belly button, stopping to swirl her tongue inside, surprised at how much she liked that, the taste of his skin, the heat of him, the little tickle of the hairs on his belly. She traveled down her path until she got to the waistband of his sweats, and then, just to make him wait some more, spent some time trying to get her tongue down inside them.
The next time she sat up, she grabbed the waistband of his sweats and pulled. "Time for these to go. Help me."
He raised his hips up off the mattress, and she got his sweats down just a little bit when he reached out and stopped her. "Honey, I'm sorry. God, I'm sorry. It's just... I can't, okay? I'd give anything if I could, but it's just not happening."
She sat up again. "We made a deal. It's still my turn."
"Really?" He swore softly. "You want to keep going with this?"
"Yes, I do." She pulled his sweats off completely. Nudging his thighs apart, she crawled between them until her knees were pressed against his inner thighs and her hands on the mattress beside his waist.
Oh, he was mad. Probably at himself and life in general, more than her.
Looking him right in the eyes, she eased her upper body down until her breasts were pressed against his thighs. Tilting her head sideways, she pressed her cheek against his cock.
She had the man's attention now.
Slowly, she slid her cheek down to the base of it and then opened up her mouth and took one long, lavish lick, all the way up to the tip of it. His whole body bowed against hers, his hand clenched in her hair, but he let her do it, his pupils flaring at the sight of her mouth on him.
"Does it feel good?" she asked.
"Yes, dammit! Yes!"
"I could take you inside my mouth. Lick, suck, tease, stroke," she offered, then waited. She wanted him to say it. Would he really deny them both that pleasure? "Do you want me to do that?"
"Yes."
So she did, lick, suck, tease, stroke, learning all the things he liked, as he groaned long and loud. Obviously, all the sensation was still there, whether he could get hard or not. So she went at it, finding it such a power trip to be able to give him this kind of intense pleasure. His hand was back in her hair, not trying to force anything, just holding on, the urgency of his need coming through in that touch all the same. The sounds he made were constant, little groans, gasps, the ragged breathing and finally a desperate-sounding, whispered, "Please."
She finally wrapped her hand firmly around the base of his cock and stroked, while she had the rest of him in her mouth. He cried out loud.
She used long strokes and all the pressure she could muster, up and down, luxuriating in feeling like she had such a big, strong man completely at her mercy. He thrust ever so gently against her mouth, the movement so sexy, adding to her pleasure.
Grace wasn't sure how long it went on. Not long enough for her. But she felt a change come over his body, an urgency, and she wasn't sure what was happening when he cried out once again, and pulled her off him.
She didn't understand at first. He took her hand and wrapped it around his cock, pumped once, then again, and then... He was coming? It seemed like he was. She picked up the motion he wanted, squeezing, pumping, milking him through it, loving the hoarse cries and watching the sensation move through his entire body, a thick, milky liquid spurting on his abdomen. Grace watched it all, feeling it in her own body, too, that delicious, hot, heavy satisfaction that comes from pleasing a man, from having her hands and mouth all over him.
He was shaking, swearing softly under his breath, eyes closed, hands fisted tightly, and then it was like every bit of tension in his body melted away, leaving him limp and sated beneath her. She watched all those gorgeous muscles in his chest and shoulders rise and fall with the urgent effort to draw breath, and thought, he was such a beautiful man, scars and all, and so powerful, so fierce, and yet so gentle at times.
And she ached even more for that, for his touch. It felt like if he touched her in the slightest way, she'd come apart herself, she was so turned on by everything she'd done to him.
When he finally opened his eyes, she was still grinning like crazy, couldn't help it. "Didn't know you could do that."
"Neither did I," he admitted, a hard stamp of pure pleasure across his whole face as he stared at her like she was some kind of sex goddess.
Grace didn't think anyone had ever given her the sex-goddess look before. She liked it a lot, laughed as she grabbed the shirt she'd worn to bed—didn't think she'd be needing that tonight—and started cleaning him up with it.
When she was done, he held out an arm to her and said, "Come here, baby."
She stretched out against his side once again, their legs entwined, her body leaning into his side. With one hand over his heart, she could feel that it was still thumping like crazy. He took her face in his hand and turned it to meet his, his lips finding hers for sweet, slow, sexy kisses as he slowly came down from that high.
"I never even thought about that happening," he said finally, his face so close to hers. "You... God, I didn't know I could feel like that. I was afraid I never would again. Not anything that good."
"Good. Because that's exactly what I was aiming for. More than you thought was possible."
Again, she got that sex goddess look from him. She basked in it, kissing him once, then again. She loved that connection, the intimacy, the heat, his tongue caressing hers, all the need she felt there, the shared pleasure. She hadn't kissed him nearly enough while she was having her way with him.
Breaking that kiss, easing back just enough so that she could look at him, she realized he looked different, too. Lines had eased in his handsome face. She saw joy in his eyes and his smile. This must have been how he looked before all the bad things, younger, even more confident, sexier if that was possible.
"Baby, I am so happy right now. I don't remember the last time I felt this good. Tell me you're happy, too."
"So happy," she said. "So much happier than I ever thought I'd be again."
"Good, because that's exactly what I'm aiming for." He held a hand to the side of her face, staring down at her like he wanted to drink in the moment, the feeling.
He rolled onto his side, one of his hard thighs slipping between hers, his body flush against hers, a naked, whole-body connection, and wasn't that a deliciously new sensation?
"Mmm," she moaned, thinking she could stay here with him like this forever. Their world would be nothing but the indulgence of mutual pleasure and a bit of conversation. There were still so many things she didn't know about him, and she wanted to know everything about the man, wanted to take care of him, to fill his world with joy.
His big, warm hand stroked softly down her side, coming to rest low on her hipbone, just above her pajama pants, and then slipped beneath them, cupping the bare skin of her hip. He watched her as he did it.
"So, am I right in thinking it's my turn now?" he asked.
Quick as could be, he rolled her onto her back and was kneeling at her feet, tugging on her pajama pants. "Time for these to go. Tell me, when you loosened the tie on them, did you know they'd only fall so far? And catch right here on your hips? Because that was a really mean trick, teasing me that way, Grace."
"I thought they would," she admitted. "The tie's come undone, and they've caught on my hips before."
He groaned. "I've been staring at the little bowties on these pajamas of yours for what seems like forever, wanting to pull those strings loose."
But he didn't need to this time. She'd done it for him. All he had to do was tug, and off the pajama bottoms came, leaving her without a stitch on beneath his heated gaze. He sat down by her side and just looked at her at first. She closed her eyes, and it seemed like she could feel even that—him simply watching her. Like her whole body knew, and felt it like a touch, a delicious one.
"God, I don't know where to start," he said, and then she felt a barely there touch of his hand slowly moving down her body.
It was the same touch she'd used with him, and oh, it was just so good, left her skin, her body, begging for more in every place he touched.
"That's what you did to me," he said, his voice so low and sexy. "All over, forever, and told me not to move a muscle, not to touch you, not to do anything without your permission."
She moaned, couldn't help it. He hadn't told her that she couldn't, not yet.
"Did you know, baby? Did you know it felt like this? This good?"
"No," she whispered, as his hand deliberately circled around her breast, way on the outside curve in big, maddening circles.
"You'd never done that to any other man?"
"No. Not that."
"And no one's done this to you?"
Deliberately teasing her this way? Moving so slowly? Barely touching? Making her ache? Making her wait? "No."
"Good. I don't want you touching anyone else this way, and I don't want anyone touching you this way, either."
Which sounded like some thoroughly primitive stamp of possession, and for some reason, she found it highly satisfying. She didn't want anyone touching him like this, either.
His hand stroked along her hips and down her thigh, and as he worked his way back up, brushed ever so slightly over the blonde curls between her legs. She arched her hips into his touch, felt it through her entire body. If he was going to do to her what she'd done to him—making her wait that long—she was going to end up begging very, very soon.
He laughed. "Grace? You really liked touching me?"
"Yes."
"And having me in your mouth?"
"Yes."
"Making me come?"
"Oh, yes."
He eased two fingers into the warm, wet heat between her legs. "Damn," he said appreciatively. "You did."
She whimpered even more. She was so ready, needed this so badly.
He let his fingers sink in deeper, his touch firm and sure and so very good. She opened herself up to him, lifted her hips just a bit to bring those fingers deeper inside, so close to coming apart, just from this. He didn't object, so she kept going, rocking subtly against him, wanting like she never had in her life, needing.
"Oh, baby," he said appreciatively, rocking his fingers in time with the motion of her body. "I wanted to tease you, Grace. I wanted to torment you. To touch you all over, have my mouth all over you. I wanted to try to show off a little bit, show you I could please you, even if I can't get hard. I wanted to do all of that."
She cried out, in pleasure and frustration, her body moving more urgently against his touch.
"I can't believe I'm offering this," he said, laughing a bit. "But if I said it was still your turn, and you were still giving the orders, would you say something like, 'I can't stand it. Make me come. Right now. Please?' "
"Yes, I would. Exactly that. Please..." She clutched at his shoulders, wanting him closer, not teasing at all. "Just for right now."
"And we understand each other. That this is for you, and my turn comes later—"
"Yes. Yes. Whatever you want. Please..."
His fingers moved faster, right up against the most sensitive spot on her body. He'd found it, watching her, watching her reaction to his touch, and a minute later, the sensation exploded inside of her, rippling out from that spot through her whole body. She shook. She writhed. She nearly screamed. She did whimper. She moaned. She couldn't breathe, buried her face in the warm skin of his neck, and then she just lay there, letting those delicious sensations roll through her.
She felt the heat of his body at her side, his mouth on hers, could feel the grin on his lips pressed to hers, as he stayed with her, patiently, thoroughly, seeing to every bit of her pleasure.
It was just so good, so perfect.
He kissed her softly, down her cheek, finding her mouth and kissing that softly, his hand stroking through her hair, his other hand holding her body close to his. She felt utterly relaxed, utterly satisfied and taken care of and appreciated.
He fussed over her some more, telling her how much he liked watching her come, listening to the sounds she made, feeling the sensations roll through her body. How this made him think he really would do anything for her, because he'd had plans for her, and he'd put them aside just for her, so she could have what she wanted first.
Grace thought she never wanted to leave him, never wanted to move. Life was deliciously perfect at the moment.
That was the last thing she remembered.
Chapter 17
Aidan woke up, Grace curled into his side, the faintest trickle of sunlight peeking in through the sliding glass doors leading to the porch, Tink standing over him like something out of a scary clown dream, all giant, goofy head and hair, tongue hanging out, panting.
He blinked a few times, thinking this was one of the oddest dreams ever. The dog whined pitifully and padded toward the door. Beside him, Grace rolled onto her belly and then pressed her side to his with a satisfied sigh. She was cold, he guessed, judging by the amount of pretty, bare skin he saw at the moment. She'd nearly rolled out from beneath the covers completely.
He covered her up and then ran a hand down her back, enjoying the luxury of being able to touch her just because he wanted to, thinking of what an incredible night they'd had. He remembered kissing her softly, laughing with her, in absolute awe of the woman who showed him what his body was still capable of, looking so proud of herself after she gave him the most surprising and most satisfying orgasm of his life. Adding happily and matter-of-factly, Didn't know you could do that.
And hadn't that been a delicious revelation?
He'd been ready to give her that same, torturously slow treatment she'd given him, until it had become clear she was already so close to the edge herself from what she'd done to him. So he'd given her what she wanted instead, watching her come apart beautifully in his arms with almost no effort at all on his part.
And then, relaxed and happy, his body flooded with all kinds of natural, feel-good chemicals for a change, it seemed he'd fallen asleep on her. Or maybe she'd fallen asleep on him. Hopefully, they'd fallen asleep on each other.
From his spot in front of the door, Tink whined again.
Aidan looked once more at the woman lying in bed beside him and then said to the dog, "I have never hated you more than I do right this minute."
Then he covered Grace up, kissing nothing more than the back of one of her shoulders, and got up to let the dog out. Tink trotted into the great outdoors, then looked back at Aidan, standing naked in the cold of the doorway, and cocked his head, as if to say, You're not coming, too?
"Just do what you absolutely have to do," he told the dog, then closed the door for a moment.
He went back to Grace, curled up under the blanket, the firelight dancing all through her pretty, blonde hair, along that gorgeous skin of hers. He had to be the luckiest
man alive then, he decided, thinking of her sweet, tender hands, her kind heart and her gorgeous, willing mouth.
Never would have taken her for the kind of woman to order a man around in bed—or for him to be the kind of man to like it—but God, it had been hot. He'd ached to touch her. His jaw had actually hurt from clenching it tight to try to keep quiet, to keep from begging her to give up and let him do what he wanted.
And then he'd fallen asleep before he could do anything more than make her come once, hard and fast, not nearly what he'd wanted to do for her. He'd wanted to dazzle her, fuss over her, pay her back by tormenting her as she'd done to him.
He reached out and brushed a hand through that gorgeous hair of hers. She made a tiny sound of pleasure and eased a bit closer to him. She was a snuggler, or maybe it was just too cold in this cabin for her, with nothing but the fire and him for heat.
He leaned over and nuzzled his nose against her hair—she smelled so good—and let his hand slide beneath the covers and find bare skin at the small of her back, just needing to touch her again. When he closed his eyes, he could still see her, leaning over him, running her hands over his body and then over her own, that sexy smile she gave him, the incredible sight of Grace, his good girl, going down on him with such abandon.
He wanted more of her, right then. But she still had faint shadows under her eyes, months of not sleeping well, no doubt. She'd been sleeping a good ten hours a night here, and he didn't want to interfere with that. She obviously needed the rest.
So he dragged himself away from the bed of most beautiful woman in the world. He'd take the dog for a long morning walk, work the tightness out of his muscles and hopefully make it back before she got out of bed. He got wood from the pile by the cabin and let the dog back in. While Aidan built up the fire again, the dog nabbed his spot in the bed next to Grace, looking at Aidan as if to say, She likes me more than you.
So Aidan was laughing as he got into the bathroom, and when he glanced in the mirror, to his great surprise, the man staring back at him looked very much like himself, not that battered and beaten-down version of him that had come back from Afghanistan the last time.
