“That’s not a terrible idea,” she said.
“It’s not my favorite one, but it’s definitely on the table if that’s what you need.”
His words lifted a weight off her shoulders that she hadn’t known she was holding. Casual sex, for all that they called it casual, was filled with a hundred thousand expectations that could make it more difficult than it was sometimes worth. The fact that he was lifting those expectations made her shift until she could look at him more fully.
“What’s number two and three?”
“Two is I can keep doing what I was about to do. Or, number three, I can let you take the reins.”
She thought it over, and he let her. God, she had expected a big bad criminal enforcer to just be the kind of hard-ass guy who grabbed a woman, threw her down, and did whatever it was he wanted to. He was, just like earlier, giving her the choice.
“I vote for option three.”
He ran his tongue over his lips. “Well, if you insist.”
She did. In a move fast enough to draw the breath from both of them, she pushed him against the bed and mounted him. His hands went first to her hips, but she plucked them off and pushed them up above his head.
“Stay.”
He gave a teasing “woof” in response.
It was her turn to take her time. She wasn’t planning on a second night with him, and so she wanted to remember every little part of him for some lonely evening down the road. Her hands started with his hair, that long fall of inky black. She ran her fingers through it until it made a massive fan over the rich pillows. Then she leaned over him and placed a nearly chaste kiss on his brow.
“I had a dream about you,” she admitted, as she ran the fullness of her lips across his skin, softly and gently.
“Was it a good dream?”
“Would have been better if my alarm hadn’t gone off.”
He laughed, and the moment he did she pressed her mouth over his. She swallowed the sound of his happiness down, drank it like she could take it into herself and chase all her bad thoughts away. His tongue played over hers, dashing in and out of her mouth with quick practiced flicks that had the heat rising between them again.
Her hands moved over his arms. She could feel the raised skin of the outline of his tattoos, the ever so slight variation between the inked flesh and the pure. Her mouth moved from his lips to the wrist of one arm, and she used her tongue to trace the lines over the tender inner flesh until he was squirming.
“Tease,” he grumbled amiably.
“Yes,” she said without apology.
He was so wonderfully built, she thought as she let herself explore his arms, shoulders, and chest. The wide set to his shoulders, the fit muscles that bunched and moved with his every motion, all of it tapering down to a perfect trim waist. She pressed her body to his and remembered the fact that he was still wearing jeans. Well, she thought to herself, that just wouldn’t do. If she was going to be naked, he was going to have to join her. She gave him one more kiss to drown in and then slipped down. Her mouth made a quick line between his lips and that soft patch of skin between his belly button and his jeans. She made a figure eight with the tip of her tongue.
His lips moved beneath her, a silent pleading that made her smile. Slowly, she undid the brass button and then the teeth of the zipper to reveal the simple boxers beneath. The outline of his rigidness was perfectly clear, even in the near dark of her bedroom. She ran her cheek over the fabric, nuzzling him with a gentleness that surprised them both. With a tug, his jeans were on the floor, and a moment later the boxers joined them.
She took a moment to just look at him. The top of him was built like a picture, and the bottom matched. The long lines of his legs were strong, crafted by hours of walking around a shop or maybe even running from the law, she didn’t know. At the moment, she didn’t even care. His body, head excluded, was remarkably light in body hair. It made it easy to slide her hands over his legs and cup the perfect length of him.
He was so warm in her hands, long and perfectly straight. The broad tip of him encased in a natural slip of skin. She wrapped one hand around the tip and stroked slowly down, exposing the sensitive tip to the air. He groaned for her, and she reveled in the sound.
“You don’t have to be so gentle,” he told her.
She chuckled, and the sound was almost pitying. “I am well aware of that, biker boy. I let you have control. Now it’s my turn.”
“Is this you telling me to shut up again?”
“You continue to be perceptive.”
She moved her fist all the way down to the root of him and then back up. It was slow, but her fingers were tight. She took up a steady languid pace. It was enough to keep him swollen, but not near enough to build the pleasure that would bring an end to the evening. She watched his face as he relinquished himself to the moment. His eyes closed, and his mouth hung open. He was almost pliant.
When she was sure he was as relaxed as a man could be in his state, she wrapped her mouth over him. His eyes flew open, and he made a strangled sound of satisfied shock. Her mouth wrapped tight, and she started to bob her head up and down. He moved beneath her, but she used one hand against his belly to tell him to hold still.
It didn’t take long. Not after the delicate foreplay.
“Wait,” he gasped, “I—”
She didn’t wait; she moved faster, suckling harder. Her free hand slid from his belly to the swollen satin of the pouch between his thighs, and she started to tease. Her gaze flicked up to watch his face as he tried to stave off the peak.
“Donna!” he groaned.
She moved back just in time to watch him spill. Her eyes were riveted on the taut lines of his body as his hips jerked in primal abandon. The twitch of his phallus as he expended his seed made her smirk. She stroked him through it and then the after spasms until he curled over on one side and told her that it was too much.
A moment later he had a towel in his hand and a smile on his lips.
“Was that payback?”
“Yes,” she said after a moment of thought.
He rolled his forehead against the pillow and sighed graciously. “Totally worth it.”
“Leftovers?” she asked.
He looked back at her over his shoulder. “What? You’re done?”
She looked at the shaft between his legs, long since grown soft. “You aren’t?”
He rolled over toward her and placed a kiss on her stomach. “What time is it?”
She glanced over at her bedside clock and the vibrant red numbers there. “Eleven thirty-eight.”
“I’ve got a few more hours left in me,” he rumbled as he dipped his mouth lower and lower.
She laughed, not quite believing him. Men liked to promise lots in the way of prowess. Few delivered, and even that was rare. She petted the top of his head, pulling a few locks of damp dark hair out of his face. “Promises, promises.”
The look he gave her was a challenge, and it drew a heat she hadn’t expected from her body. She felt the hungry tightening of her groin and lifted her hands up as if in welcome. “All right, biker boy. Show me what you’ve got.”
He did. There was no slow hungry teasing this time. He gripped her pale thighs and pressed her knees to the mattress, exposing her sodden cleft. His mouth opened wide and wrapped over her, drawing as much of her pleasure between his lips as possible. And then he started to lick. It was fast and hungry and wild, and her back arched off the bed. He dug his hands into her thighs and held her in place even as the pleasure welled up inside of her. She felt the pleasant bite of his nails in her skin.
His eyes rolled up to watch her, the hot light of challenge making them glitter. His lips clung to her in such a way that she could not watch his tongue, but God she could feel it. She gripped the pillow behind her head and wrapped one leg around his back until her foot was flat against the muscles there. She had hoped that it would stave off the rush. It didn’t.
“Oh God,” was the only t
hing she could say, the only words she remembered.
He pulled his mouth away just long enough to say, “Not yet, Donna. Not yet.”
He was utterly relentless. Every time her high surged toward the surface, he pulled back. He trapped her in that delicious point between pleasure and desperation. Her skin felt too tight, too hot around her body. Her mouth was dry, but her thighs were wet. She no longer knew if she was struggling to hold him back or pull him closer.
“Cody, please!” she begged.
He lifted his mouth from her for an untold time, but this time he pressed his palm against her. Two fingers slid into her, crooking against the tender parts within until she was writhing. “Do you need it, Donna?”
“Yes! Damn you, yes!”
“Then do it.”
He wrapped his lips once more around her cleft, but his fingers did not stop their diligent dance. The wild feeling of being caught between the two sensations had her going from “not enough” to “there!” in a matter of moments. She fisted her fingers in his hair and rode the wild sensation of her second high with pure and utter abandon.
Her body felt too heavy and made of warm rubber. Indelicately, she flopped back against the mattress with enough force to pull the fitted sheet off the bed. She couldn’t quite bring herself to care. When she could open her eyes, which she was certain had been plastered shut by ecstasy, he was kneeling between her legs, looking utterly satisfied.
“What?” she asked.
“You look absolutely gorgeous.”
She laughed and waved a heavy hand in his general direction. “I’m pretty sure that I look like a wet towel. By God, Cody, where did you learn to do that?”
He lifted a brow at her, and she sighed. He had admitted to having a love of women. Even if she were a jealous person by nature, she certainly couldn’t be bothered with that right now since she was reaping the benefits of his carnal knowledge.
He leaned over her and gave her another kiss. When he lowered his body against hers, she felt the heavy press of his tip against her opening, already swollen and ready.
“Oh really?” she chuckled, seizing his lip between her teeth for just a second.
“Did you want to stop?” he asked.
She shook her head. Maybe it was the endorphins of two powerful orgasms still pumping through her veins, or maybe it was the fact that he looked like some tattooed tribal god perched over her, but Donna was almost sure that she could keep this up all night. The thought thrilled her. Hell, she thought to herself, he thrilled her.
“Oh, no.” She wrapped one arm around his neck and pulled him closer to her. “You promised to drive me wild.”
“Good.”
He used his knee to part her legs a little bit more. When he settled between her thighs, she became completely aware of the heat of his shaft, perched against her cleft. He didn’t move, not at first. For a long moment, they just laid there tucked against one another, and then he moved.
He slid into her, inch by delicious inch. She felt her body part and accept him. Felt the languid thrust of his hips to push the very last bit of him into her until their bodies were locked in the most intimate of kisses. She wrapped herself around him and ran her tongue over the curve of his ear.
“Don’t you dare hold back now,” Donna snipped, setting her teeth to his ear. “Not after all those big bold promises that you made.”
He chuckled, but he didn’t move. He stayed rooted inside of her so that the tip of him touched the very back of her. “Woman, you are so damn demanding. You know that?”
“I do.”
He laughed and then gave a single teasing thrust. Both of them stopped talking. Feeling him inside of her had been a pleasurable ache. Feeling him move was bliss. He seemed to fit exactly how she needed him to, pushing against all those pleasurable places that almost never got attention.
“Again,” she purred.
Once he began he couldn’t stop. A steady rhythm built between them; not quite slow, not quite rough but somehow it managed to be both. He ran one hand down her body until it wrapped around her knee, tugging it up until he opened her more. The subtle shift of their bodies had him pushing just a little deeper.
“More,” he growled.
“Is there more?” she teased back.
He made an animalistic sound and rolled her to her knees. His hands swept down her back and then to her hips, pushing her forward even as he pushed inside of her. She grabbed the back of the bed to hold herself still.
“Oh Cody, yes. More, give me more.”
“Say it again.”
She did, thrusting her hips back to add emphasis to the phrase. She didn’t want him to take his time anymore. She didn’t want gentle or teasing. She wanted him, all of him, and she wanted it now.
He maneuvered his body again until he had mounted her, like he couldn’t get enough of her beneath him. He put one hand on her shoulder and the other on her hip, and he started to pound into her body. His hips steadily became a blur, pushing into her depths, hard and reckless. She felt the bed creak beneath her hands where they gripped.
“Harder,” she demanded. “Cody, harder.”
He jerked her back from the bed, and she caught her arms against the pillow, pushing it beneath her body until her hips were cradled by the softness. He gripped one wrist, holding her right there. The shift had her body tightening around him, and he felt larger inside of her. They groaned in tandem.
“There,” she gasped. “Right there.”
“Yes,” he agreed.
His body became a relentless engine of pleasure as he hammered into her hard enough that the sound of their wet, mating bodies echoed off the walls. She lost herself in the tribal music of their primal dance, holding herself as still as she could manage lest they lose this perfect position.
“Donna,” he gasped. His thrusts took on that imperfect pulse of a man fast approaching his own peak.
“Not yet,” she hissed. “Not yet!”
He shoved deep into her, as if he could disappear inside of her. She thrust herself back against him, grinding her body against the ball of need that was building inside of her. He twitched, spasmed, and then came. Once, twice, three times he thrust, and then he filled her. The white-hot sensation of him pouring into her body drove her over the edge, and she joined him in mindless, blinding release.
They stayed there for a moment more, rooted together and breathing hard. When he began to pull back, his hand carefully guiding himself out of her, she almost mourned the loss. When he was free of her, he tumbled to his side, making the bed creak again.
“Good God, woman.”
“Oh, is that all, biker boy?”
He nipped hard enough at her shoulder that she poked at him.
“I have never met a woman more ungrateful than you.”
“I’m plenty grateful, but you promised me hours and it’s… just after twelve fifteen.” She had just enough energy to tap the bedside clock beside her.
He took a deep breath and rolled over, pushing his limp shaft against her thigh. She laughed and squirmed away.
“I’ll give you all night… in about twenty minutes.”
“Promises, promises.”
Chapter Ten
Cody
It was sometime early in the morning, or really late at night, and Cody wasn’t entirely sure which it was… or which he wanted it to be. The sun wasn’t quite out yet, but the first rays of it were beginning to turn the sky a softer shade of black in the very furthest reaches of the sky. He could see it through the window.
His entire body was one great big ache, and he didn’t think that his legs were capable of doing anything but laying there and taking up space. The bedsheets were a mess around their bodies, and half of them had ended up on the floor at some point during the wild sexual Olympics. He wasn’t sure who got first place and who was walking home with the silver, but he was pretty sure everyone was a winner tonight.
It had been hours, and good God they had been perfect.
Cody didn’t normally give into the notion of losing himself in a woman. Good beer, good friends, even a good fight. All of those things could keep a guy from getting overwhelmed. But Donna… well… she was nothing but overwhelming, and he loved it. The entire apartment complex could have been going up in smoke and he would still have been enjoying that wild woman in that bed.
He took a deep breath and swung his legs over the edge of the mattress, which seemed to have moved a few inches to the left. He felt the shift as she rolled over.
“You leaving?” She didn’t sound like she was pleading him to stay. They both knew that she wouldn’t. Donna was willing to do a great many things, but she wouldn’t beg him for anything. Not even great sex. No, he thought, it wasn’t just great sex. Great sex would have been forty minutes of craziness followed by a midnight meal and a cold beer. This was… something else. They hadn’t just pounded the daylights out of one another; they had talked, they had explored… It had been insane.
BARE SKIN: A Dark Bad Boy Romance Page 38
