"Do you like it?" Dipping his tongue in her navel, he picked icicles gently from her garter belt
"Mmm." She trembled even more. "I do."
"Me, too." He picked up a strand that was draped over one of her long black garters and drew it back and forth over the tops of her thighs, above the sheer black nylons.
She moaned softly.
He shifted his attention to the icicles decorating her stocking-covered thighs and pulled them off slowly as he licked and nibbled his way to her knees. All the while he breathed in the wonderful aroma of arousal and savored all that awaited him.
At last the icicles were gone except one. He swirled it back and forth over her knees before bringing it up her leg and dropping it deliberately between her thighs. "Whoops. Lost that one. Better get it back." He pretended to fumble for the icicle.
She gasped as his groping brought him in contact with the damp triangle between her legs.
"I've nearly found it." He ran his knuckles back and forth over the material. "Spread your thighs a little wider, so I can search."
"Greg…"
"Come on, now," he murmured. "You're the one who draped yourself in icicles. I think you want this."
With a soft moan of surrender, she parted her thighs.
Heart hammering, he slipped his fingers under the black silk. This time would be the beginning, not the ending, so he wouldn't draw it out like he had the night before.
"Tell me you want this," he said, his voice husky as he probed her moist heat.
"Yes," she whispered.
That single word made him tremble with longing. As he pushed in deep with two fingers, his thumb came to rest naturally on the exact place he wanted to caress.
She moaned again as he began.
Maintaining a gentle rhythm, he eased up beside her, and saw that her eyes were closed. "Suzanne, look at me," he coaxed.
Her eyes flickered open, and they were dark with passion.
"It's so much better when I can see your eyes. So much better." He felt her tightening. "Good?"
She began to pant. "Yes."
"This is only a taste." He increased the rhythm. "An appetizer."
She looked as if she didn't believe him, as if she expected no more than this. He would give her so much more before the night was over.
He smiled at her and fluttered his thumb faster yet. "We have all night, remember? Now come for me, Suzanne. Let go." He caressed her with a fraction more pressure, and she arched from the bed with a cry.
A rush of emotion took him by surprise. As he gathered her close and held her while she quaked in the aftermath of her climax, he tried to deny what that emotion was. But in his heart he knew.
* * *
She'd been bold, and he'd responded to her boldness. At first she'd wondered if her usual shyness would ruin the moment, but he'd helped her through. She felt exhilarated knowing that for once in her sexual life, she'd been spontaneous.
Greg nuzzled her neck as he held her close in his arms. "I love that wild little sound you make when you come."
"What sort of sound?"
He leaned back to gaze into her eyes. "You don't know?"
Her cheeks warmed and she shook her head. Both times he'd given her an orgasm, she'd been too caught up in the earthquake that took over her body to think about the sounds she made.
"It's a cross between a cry and a moan. Unique. Very primitive. Extremely sexy. Nobody's ever mentioned it?"
"No." Not that Jared would have. He was always so involved in his own pleasure that she'd sometimes wondered if he took much notice of hers. Now that she thought about it, no man had ever lavished as much attention on her as Greg. They'd expected her to cooperate in whatever new position or location they'd wanted to try, but she'd felt more like an accessory than a cherished partner.
"Maybe that's because this is the first time you've made that sound." Greg looked pleased with the idea.
"Maybe."
"I plan to hear it again before long." He cupped her bottom and drew her close, so that his erection pressed against her belly. "I love this outfit."
"I'm glad." Her confidence grew with every compliment he gave her. She was ready to try another daring move, one she'd imagined as she'd dressed for tonight's rendezvous. She'd bought the bra and garter belt when she'd been with Jared and had never felt comfortable enough with him to wear it.
But Greg inspired her to take chances. She reached for the front clasp of the bra. "You might like this variation even better." She opened it with a flick of her manicured fingers. The black lace cups clung for a moment, before she deliberately pulled them back. "What do you think?"
His hungry eyes feasted for a long, long, time. Against her thigh, his penis quivered in response. "I think you're absolutely perfect," he said. Then he looked into her eyes. "Thank you."
"I think … that's my line." She traced his mouth with the tip of her finger. "Thank you for changing your mind. For deciding you … wanted me."
He shook his head. "I've always wanted you. I just didn't think…" He hesitated.
"Didn't think I was up to the challenge?" How quickly her confidence could evaporate.
"No!" He caught her chin and forced her to look at him. "No," he said again, more softly. "I wasn't sure I was."
"I'm no challenge, Greg."
"Now that's where you're wrong." Cupping her breast, he eased her to her back. "You might be the biggest challenge I've ever faced in my life."
Before she could ask him what he meant, he kissed her, and after that she completely forgot the question.
* * *
Chapter 10
«^»
Greg filled his hands with Suzanne's breasts, massaging her satin skin, fondling her taut nipples. And all the while he continued to kiss her until they were both breathless. At last he lifted his mouth from hers. "I wish I was twins so I could keep kissing your mouth and kiss you everywhere else at the same time."
"I'd go mad with pleasure."
"That's what I want." He nibbled his way down her throat and over her collarbone. "To drive you mad with pleasure. Out of your mind, so you'll make those wild little sounds again."
She gasped for breath. "You're off to a good start."
He reached one breast and drew a nipple greedily into his mouth.
She groaned. "A very good start. Oh, Greg. That feels so … delicious."
When she gripped the back of his head, transmitting her urgency, he sucked harder, and felt her quake. His hand slipped automatically downward, pulling her panties aside, sliding his fingers deep.
She arched against his hand, needing him.
Fierce joy surged through him at that silent admission that she wanted more. Tonight he would give her all she could take. With his fingers buried deep and his mouth at her breast, he felt almost as much a part of her as if they were joined completely. And he wanted that final joining soon. His groin ached for it. But this … this was so good.
Vibrating his fingers while keeping them inside her, he was able to feel the wave of her first contraction. Then he heard that sound, that wonderful sound she made as the contractions roiled past his fingers.
He stayed with her, his mouth at her breast and his fingers inside, until her body stopped humming and her wild cries ceased. Then he slowly released her breast and eased his fingers free.
When at last he moved upward to gaze into her eyes, glowing in the aftermath of her climax, he felt that dangerous emotion squeeze his heart again. If he fell in love, and she turned out to be like all the other women who had expected him to change his life, he was doomed.
"That was … incredible," she murmured.
He pushed his fear aside. This moment was too wonderful to waste on fear. "You are incredible." With gentle motions he finished removing her bra. "And this is why I love having light, so I can see how beautiful you look after you come."
"I thought…" Suddenly she looked very vulnerable. "I thought men liked making love in the light because they
liked to ogle."
The only thing that kept him from chuckling was that vulnerable expression of hers, which told him that she wasn't making a joke. "I'll be honest. Once or twice I've been known to ogle."
He leaned down and touched his lips to hers. "But I know what you're talking about," he murmured, kissing her softly again. "You're talking about looking at a woman as if she's a collection of body parts instead of your lover, the person you've chosen to share this experience with." That's what he'd gathered from listening to women's complaints about men. Lifting his head, he studied her expression to see if what he'd said had helped.
Apparently it had. She had stars in her eyes again. "That's it," she said. "That's exactly it. And then I feel so—exposed."
"I don't want that." He stroked her breast tenderly as he watched her face. "I want you to feel well loved."
"Oh." She sighed a little as she said it. "I do."
Those two little words jolted him. Marriage ceremony words. Until now, Amelia had been the only woman he'd imagined saying them. Once Amelia had disappeared from his life, he'd thought about marriage in generalities, but never specifically related to one woman. And now, God help him, he was thinking exactly that about Suzanne. So far it wasn't a fully formed thought. He'd be wise to kill it now, if he possibly could.
Then she reached down and curled her hand around his penis, and he lost all track of what he'd been worrying about. Tonight he had no worries. Suzanne was stroking him lovingly, and nothing mattered but that.
"I want you to feel well loved, too," she said. "Up to now it's been all about me."
"That's … okay." For some reason, he had trouble renumbering how to talk when she created that cylinder-and-piston effect. He could barely remember his name. Thank heavens he'd relieved some of his pent-up tension the night before, or he wouldn't last five seconds. And he wanted to last a long, long time.
Her voice was as smooth as her hand motion. "Would you give me the mistletoe?"
Would he ever. Now, if he could only think of what he'd done with it.
"On the nightstand," she murmured.
Oh, yeah. But if he turned over to get it, she might lose her place. He didn't want that happening.
"On second thought, let me get it," she said. He didn't want that, either. If only the mistletoe could get its own self over here, so she could make whatever naughty use of it she had in mind. The concept made him delirious with anticipation, but somebody had to get the darned mistletoe.
"Hold still," she said. Keeping a firm grip on him, she slid her leg over his. Without breaking contact, she guided him to his back and moved astride his thighs. In the process she winced.
"Something hurts," he said.
"Too much time on the thigh machine. But never mind."
He stroked her inner thighs. "Let me massage—"
"Nope." She grabbed a wrist in each hand. "I know what would happen if you started massaging me there."
"But I—"
"Later." She glanced at the night table. "Is that why you have massage oil over there?"
"Yes."
"It's a very nice thought," she said softly. "But it's my turn, and I want you to keep your hands to yourself. Can you do that?"
"I don't know."
"If you don't know, then I can't let go of your wrists, and if I can't let go of your wrists, then I can't…" She glanced at his ramrod-straight penis.
That made things easy. "I promise," he said.
"Okay, then." As if he were a naughty boy she'd had to reprimand, she gave him the most adorable look of warning as she released his wrists. Then her fingers slid around him again, making him sigh with pleasure.
He wondered if she'd forgotten the mistletoe, not that he cared. What she was doing was wonderful, fabulous. She was driving him slowly crazy with her stroking and tickling until he groaned from the sheer pleasure of it.
But he had trouble remembering his promise not to touch her when her breasts hovered tantalizingly within reach. They were so beautiful, so silky, so full. They beckoned him, called to him, tortured him with their proximity. At last he reached to cup them in his hands.
"Greg."
Obediently he lowered his hands. He was glad to let her be in charge. Overjoyed. Then she leaned toward the nightstand to pick up the mistletoe, and her breasts swayed temptingly close to his mouth. He lifted his head and captured one pouting nipple.
With a siren's smile, she eased her breast away from his mouth.
"But you said no hands." He sounded like a little kid denied his lollipop, which was sort of the way he felt. He wanted it all. "That was my mouth, not my hand."
"No mouth, either," she murmured, picking up the mistletoe and bracing her hands on either side of his head. "Now lie still."
"I don't know if that's humanly possible."
"Try."
He looked into her eyes and saw the gleam of sexual adventure there. This was the Suzanne he'd been looking for, and apparently he'd found her.
She copied his earlier work with the mistletoe, trailing it over his face and kissing him everywhere the mistletoe touched. But she was far more thorough than he'd been.
Smoothing the mistletoe around his ear, she leaned down to whisper into it. "Do you like that?"
He loved it. Few women had ever discovered it was one of his most potent erogenous zones. "Yes."
She ran her tongue around the outer part and gently nipped his earlobe. "That?"
He was in heaven. "Yes."
Then she flicked her warm tongue inside his ear and he nearly came unglued. Only one other place on his body was that sensitive, and he had a feeling she'd get to that place before long.
"I think you really like that," she said.
He was having trouble breathing. "Uh-huh." And wouldn't you know, she treated his other ear to the same warm, wet stimulation. He was trembling before she was finished, and he needed to grab … something. He clutched her bottom.
"No," she murmured, her breath tickling his damp ear.
"I have to … hold on to something."
"Then grab the sheet."
He took a handful in each fist, and he definitely needed to once she started moving the mistletoe down his body. He squeezed the life out of those sheets as she licked his nipples. The path down to his naval required even more self-control. He braced himself for the final assault.
But no, she bypassed home base and slid down to work him over from the toes up. He'd thought his ears were the second most sensitive body part, but oh, Lord, when she sucked his toes he nearly climaxed.
And he'd begun to whimper. At first he couldn't figure out where that funny sound was coming from, and then while she was licking the backs of his knees he realized he was making noises like a puppy eager for supper. Besides that, he was starting to twitch.
When she kissed the inside of his thighs, he whimpered and twitched at the same time. Then she moved higher, and he discovered neither his ears nor his toes were the second most sensitive body part. That honor belonged to the family jewels. His chest heaved and he gritted his teeth, not wanting to climax and end this miraculous adventure.
At last she stroked the mistletoe up the shaft of his penis. Her mouth followed. Oh, did it ever follow. She understood the full extent of her power, and she was using it He allowed the ecstasy to last as long as he dared, but too soon he was forced to bury his fingers in her hair and pull her gently back to his mouth for a long, deep kiss.
Still kissing her, he rolled her to her back and reached for the drawer handle on the nightstand. He was coming to the end of his endurance, and he didn't want that to happen before he'd made love to a woman wearing nothing but a garter belt and stockings. He'd have to ruin her panties by ripping them, but how he would love buying her a new pair and remembering why he'd had to replace them.
Once he had the condom in his hand, he was forced to end the kiss so he could concentrate on getting it on.
She was breathing as hard as he was. "Can I help?"
> He looked into her passion-darkened eyes as he gulped for air. "If you touch me there again, even for a second, I'm done for."
"You've been mistletoed."
"Yeah." His laugh was breathless with anticipation as he rolled the condom into place. "I sure have. Completely mistletoed." He gazed down at her. "And now I want the ending to my fantasy." He gripped the delicate fabric of her panties right where they were the dampest. In one quick motion he ripped them apart.
She gasped, and excitement flared in her eyes. "You tore my underwear!"
"Exactly." And with one firm thrust he was where he needed to be, and it felt as perfect as he'd thought it would. Heart pounding, he stayed very still, enjoying the warmth, the tightness, the sweet reality of being linked so intimately with her.
Her eyes glowed as she slid her hands up his back and clutched his shoulders. "I can't believe you tore my underwear."
"You wanted me to," he whispered.
She nodded.
"Is there anything I haven't done that you wanted?"
"Only what's coming next," she murmured.
"Good." He leaned down and kissed her full on the mouth. Then he lifted his lips a fraction. "But before that, I want to ogle." He raised up so that he could look into her eyes. "Just a little."
She smiled. "Okay." As if in surrender, she let go of his shoulders and put both arms over her head.
Heart racing, he flattened his hands on either side of her, straightened his arms and gazed down at the arousing sight of Suzanne lying beneath him, her breasts uncovered and quivering with each breath. Below that, where he was buried deep within her, were the tattered remnants of her panties and that sexy black garter belt still circling her hips, the garters fastened to smooth black stockings. Perfect.
He cleared the huskiness from his throat. "Wrap your legs around me." Then he remembered her encounter with the thigh machine. "Unless that would hurt you."
"It's only a twinge." She wrapped her legs securely around his hips, opening herself even more.
His pulse quickened as her legs tightened around him. He eased a little more upright and at last couldn't help himself. He wanted the entire fantasy. Sliding his hands under her bottom, he lifted her hips as he rose to a kneeling position. He held her there as he began a slow, rhythmic thrusting.
THE NIGHTS BEFORE CHRISTMAS Page 11
