by Tracy Wolff
With that thought in mind, he put a little pressure on her back, pressed her forward…and more tightly against him. She moaned a little at the contact, her mouth opening with the sound, and he took instant advantage by licking his way across the little dip in her upper lip, then across the soft fullness of her lower one. She gasped a little, her hands sliding up to clutch at his tuxedo shirt. It was all the invitation he needed.
Delving inside her then, he swept his tongue along her own. Once, twice, then again and again. Teasing, touching, tasting her. Learning her flavors…and her secrets.
Despite her sharp cool looks—all platinum-blond hair and ice-blue eyes, striking cheekbones and long, slender body—Desi was heat and spice. Cinnamon and cloves, overlaid by just a hint of the crisp, sweet champagne they had shared. The warmth of her seduced him, drew him in—drew him under—until all he could think of, all he could want, was her.
Sliding his other hand into her hair, he tangled his fingers in the silky strands and tugged gently. Her head tilted back in response, giving him better access to her mouth. And he took it without a thought to anything but how much he wanted her.
Sucking her lower lip between his teeth, he bit down gently, then soothed the small hurt with his tongue before once again licking inside her mouth. This time, he slid his tongue along her upper lip, toyed gently with the sensitive skin then delved deep into the recesses of her mouth.
Desi moaned, burrowing even closer as he licked his way across the roof of her mouth before tangling his tongue with hers. She tasted so good, felt so good, that he wanted nothing more than to stay right there forever.
But at that moment someone jostled him. The jolt broke the spell and he came back to himself slowly, became aware of their surroundings and the fact that he was about two seconds from undressing her in the middle of one of the most important social events of the Southern California season. He should be embarrassed, or at least shocked that he’d let things get so far out of hand. But he didn’t care about that, didn’t care about any of the people milling around them or what they must be thinking.
All he cared about was getting Desi out of there…and getting inside her as quickly as he possibly could.
Pulling away from her reluctantly, he forced himself to ignore her moan of protest—and the way it shot straight to his groin. It wasn’t easy. Just as it wasn’t easy to look away from her flushed cheeks, her swollen lip and slumberous eyes. But if he didn’t, he would say to hell with social niceties and take her right here in the middle of the dance floor where everyone could see them. Where everyone could watch as he put his claim on her.
Just the thought—which was an admittedly odd one to have when he didn’t know this woman at all—had him placing a hand on her lower back and escorting her through the bright crowds to the darkness of the balcony beyond the ballroom. As he did, he tried to ignore the looks they were getting. It wasn’t easy, especially when he saw the way so many of the men were looking at them. Looking at her. Only the awareness that he was one small step away from growling and beating his chest like some kind of caveman kept him moving.
Desi went with him willingly, pliantly even, which soothed some of the strangely possessive feelings rocketing through him. But he’d barely gotten her outside—the door was still closing behind them—before she was on him. Her arms wrapping around his neck, her body wrapping itself around his own, her mouth desperately seeking his.
The same urgency was a fire inside him. A pounding drum in his bloodstream, a stroke of lightning that he couldn’t shake. That he didn’t want to shake.
All he wanted was her.
It was a shocking revelation, and a humbling one. He loved women, loved everything about them and always had. But this driving desire for Desi, this craving to have her any and every way he could, was something new. Something as unexpected as it was exciting.
Keeping his mouth on hers and his lips open so she could delve inside him the same way he had explored her, Nic turned them until her back was against the outside wall of the ballroom. She moaned softly as her bare skin came in contact with the building and he shifted back, so that he could slide an arm between her and the rough, cold stone.
“Please,” she whimpered, pressing her pelvis against his as her hands clutched his shirt, pulling and tugging at it in a frantic need that mirrored his own.
To help her—and to get her hands on his bare skin faster—he pulled away slightly and ripped his shirt straight down in a practiced move that had the studs giving way to his impatience. Desi sighed then, her hands sliding beneath the parted fabric to caress his ribs, his back, his abdomen.
Her fingers felt so good—she felt so good—that for long seconds he did nothing but stand there, letting her explore him as he longed to explore her. But in the end, his need got the better of him and he took control, pulling the top of her dress down so he could see and touch and kiss her.
“Hey!” she protested breathlessly. “I wasn’t done yet.”
“I’m sorry,” he told her as he gazed at the sun-kissed skin he had revealed. She wasn’t wearing a bra, but then she didn’t need one. Her breasts were small and high and perfect, tipped with pale pink nipples he was dying to taste. “I promise, you can touch me anywhere you want. Later. Right now, I have to—” His voice trailed off as he pressed hot, openmouthed kisses to her neck, her collarbone and the slope of her shoulder before moving on to her breasts.
Her skin was as soft and fragrant as he’d imagined it would be, and as he pulled her nipple into his mouth, as he circled her areola with his tongue and sucked just hard enough to have her crying out as she buried her hands in his hair, he felt as if he would die if he didn’t have her. Soon.
“I need to be inside you,” he growled against her breast.
“Yes,” she gasped, her hands sliding from his hair to his shoulders, then down his chest to his waist, where she began fumbling with his belt buckle. “Now.”
They were the two most beautiful words he’d ever heard.
He slipped a hand under the silky blue skirt of her dress, then slid his fingers up her thigh until he found her underwear—and more important, her sex. He traced the elastic leg of her panties for a few seconds, reveling in the feel of her. Soft. Wet. Hot. So hot that it took all his self-control not to plunge inside her right then.
Still, he couldn’t resist slipping two fingers inside the lace.
Couldn’t resist petting and stroking her until her knees buckled and she grabbed at him for support.
Couldn’t resist slipping first one finger and then another into her tight, silky heat and pressing deep.
“Nic!” It was part command, part plea and in those moments he wanted—needed—nothing more than to give her what she was demanding of him. But first—
He ripped the fragile lace away from her body with one strong tug, then dropped to his knees in front of her.
“Oh, yes,” she cried, her hands grabbing him as he lifted one of her legs over his shoulder and, in doing so, opened her completely to his eyes and hands and mouth. Then he leaned forward and blew a long, slow, steady stream of air right against her most sensitive spot.
She cried out then, a high-pitched strangled sound that made his own need skyrocket. But this wasn’t just about him, wasn’t some quick, anonymous screw. Not to him anyway. And though he didn’t yet know what it was about Desi that intrigued him, he did know that he wanted to see her again. Did know that he wanted to get to know more about her than what color her nipples were or how hot and wet and tight she felt around his finger.
Although he was good with knowing all that, too. More than good, he admitted to himself as he worked his way across her flat stomach, kissing and licking and sucking every inch of her skin.
Her hands moved from his shoulders to his head, her fingers tangling in his hair with a sharpness that only turned him on more. Ple
asure coursed through him and he groaned at the sensation before nipping sharply at her hip bone in retaliation.
She cried out again, wobbled a little, then grabbed on to him, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she fought to stay upright. Her obvious arousal fed his, and he gently bit her a second time. A third time. Then he laved the little stings and explored more of her soft, gorgeous skin. As he did, he couldn’t help wondering if he’d left marks. If she would look in the mirror tomorrow and see tiny bruises on her hips, her stomach, her thighs, and think of him as he knew—even now—that he’d be thinking of her.
“Please, please, please,” she whimpered in the sexiest mantra he’d ever heard. He laughed in response, then kissed his way back across her stomach, then lower, so that his tongue traced along the very edges of her sex.
She was shaking, her body and arms curving around him as much for support as to hold him to her. He loved the feel of her wrapped around him, loved the fact that she was as affected by what was happening between them as he was.
In answer to her silent pleas, he moved closer, pressed her legs apart a little more as he trailed his mouth lower. In response, she stroked her fingers down his face, rubbed the stubble on his jaw. She played with it for long seconds, and her fingers felt so good he felt his resolve crumble. He wanted to be inside her, needed to be inside her with a desperation that bordered on insanity.
But he wanted this more. It was a driving compulsion, this need to watch her while she came. To know what she looked like, sounded like, tasted like when he took her to the edge and then flung her over.
With that thought a beacon shining through his own dark and desperate need, he leaned forward and put his mouth on her. Then he nearly lost it as Desi pressed a hand against her mouth to muffle her scream.
She was in sensory overload, her every nerve popping with pleasure at the feel of Nic touching her. At the feel of his arm around her waist, his big, calloused hand kneading her backside. At the feel of his fingers still buried deep inside her. At the feel and sound and sight of his mouth moving against her sex.
It was so good, so good, that she couldn’t stop herself from pressing back against the wall, against his hand, even as she tilted her hips forward to give him better access.
She was so close that it didn’t take long to bring her right to the edge. She knew he was aware of how close she was. She could feel it in the tension of his shoulders and in the slow, careful way he caressed her. For a moment, just a moment, she wondered what he was waiting for, but then the insidious pleasure of what he was doing, the care he was taking, streaked through her. Intense, powerful, mind-numbing.
“Nic, I can’t—”
“You can,” he told her, his voice hoarse with his own restraint.
“I can’t,” she answered, the words broken and brittle and breathless. “I need—”
“I know what you need.” He kissed her then, hot and openmouthed, making her knees tremble and her hands shake. Her whole body slammed into overload and she reached for him, her fingers tugging at his shirt, his hair, the bowtie hanging limply from his collar.
“Please, please, please,” she muttered mindlessly as she arched against him. She needed more, needed him.
He cursed then, harsh and low, and the words felt hot against her skin. The sensation only added to the tension inside her until she couldn’t think, couldn’t see, couldn’t breathe. All she could do was feel.
All she could do was crave.
And then he did it. He twisted his fingers inside her even as he swirled his tongue around her most sensitive spot and reached up with his free hand to pinch one of her nipples, hard.
The different sensations slammed Desi into overload. She careened straight over the edge into ecstasy, her body shuddering as pleasure swamped her, more intense and powerful and shattering than anything she had ever felt before.
“Nic!” Lost in the maelstrom, she cried out for him.
And he was there, his hands stroking her soothingly even as he took her higher and higher and higher. Even as he thrust her straight into the stars that shined so brilliantly above them.
When the pleasure broke, when she finally started to come back to herself, Nic wouldn’t allow it. Instead, he fumbled with the front of his tuxedo trousers as he shoved to his feet. Then he cupped his hands under her and lifted her right off her feet.
She was still pleasure drunk and more than a little dazed, but even so, her instincts kicked in. She wrapped her legs around his lean waist, her arms around his broad shoulders and pressed back against the wall for better leverage.
Then he was there between her thighs, blunt and hard and big. She had just come, but as he probed gently at her opening, Desi couldn’t help but respond.
He had been so patient, so careful to ensure that she was satisfied, that she expected him to be impatient now. To be rough, hurried.
Instead, he took his time here, too. Leaning forward until his lips were right next to her ear, he whispered, “You’re so damn beautiful.” Then he pressed soft kisses to her cheek.
The words, combined with the feel of him right against the core of her body, took her arousal up another notch. “It’s okay,” she told him, arching her hips in an effort to encourage him. “I’m ready.”
He groaned then, thrusting forward gently until he was buried halfway inside her. “Okay?” he ground out, and she felt him shaking from the effort it took to hold himself back.
Touched more than she wanted to be—certainly more than she’d expected to be from a torrid encounter with a stranger—she leaned into him. Pressed her mouth to his in a kiss as soft and gentle as his concern for her. “Please,” she whispered against his lips. “I want to feel you inside me.”
That whisper was all it took to snap his control like a twig—which she was exceptionally grateful for.
Nic thrust into her then, so hard that he slammed her back against the wall. But she was still wet, still turned-on, and more than ready for him. Pleasure crashed through her at the first stroke, coursing along her every nerve ending until her entire body felt lit up like the Fourth of July.
“Damn!” he growled, his fingers digging into her hips as he held her in place. “You feel good.”
Again, she expected him to slam into her, even braced herself for it, but again he surprised her. He brushed kisses across her forehead, her cheeks, her lips as he waited for her to adjust to him. Only when she squirmed against him, trying to get closer, did he finally relent.
He began to move in slow, steady, powerful strokes that had her grasping at him as the need ratcheted up inside her. Soon—too soon—she was on the brink of coming again. But she didn’t want to go over alone this time, didn’t want to lose herself in the ecstasy without him.
Tightening her inner muscles in a long, slow caress, she did what she could to take him as high as he had taken her. She brushed her thumbs across his nipples, whispered how much she wanted him in his ear, lifted her hips to meet each of his thrusts. It must have worked, because he groaned, then began thrusting harder.
Then he was leaning forward, his mouth inches from hers. “Kiss me,” he commanded, a scant moment before his lips slammed down on hers.
She did, pulling his lower lip between her teeth and nipping at him as he had done to her earlier. She wanted more of him, wanted all of him. Craved him until it was an inferno deep inside her.
She bit him again, a little harder this time, and the shock of pain must have been what he was waiting for, because he came with a growl. She tore her mouth away from his, gasped for breath, but Nic wouldn’t let her go. He followed her, his mouth ravenous on her own while the heat of his body seared hers wherever it touched. In moments, the pleasure swamped her, overwhelmed her, and she followed him over the edge, her body spinning wildly, gloriously, completely out of her control.
Th
ree
When it was over, when she could breathe again and her scattered thoughts finally came back to her, Desi didn’t know what to do. What to say. How to act.
There was a part of her that was shell-shocked. A part of her that couldn’t believe she had just had sex with a stranger in public. And not just in public, but on the balcony outside a gala that she was supposed to be covering for work. If someone had told her an hour ago that before the night was over she’d be pressed up against the hotel’s outside wall, her legs wrapped around Nic, whose last name she didn’t even know, having just had the most intense orgasms of her life… Well, she wouldn’t have called that person a liar. She would have called him or her a damn liar and then laughed herself silly.
But here she was. And the kicker was, she wasn’t even sorry. How could she be when her body was so blissed out that she still wasn’t sure her legs would be able to hold her when Nic decided to set her down? Which—thankfully—he hadn’t yet made any move to do.
“You okay?” he asked after a minute, pressing his lips to her neck.
“I don’t know. That was—” Her voice broke and she swallowed in an effort to get some moisture into her too-dry throat.
“Amazing,” he said, kissing his way over her collarbone. “Incredible. Earth-shattering.”
She giggled. It was a totally foreign sound to her, one Desi couldn’t ever remember making in her adult life. She wasn’t the giggling sort. Then again, she wasn’t the one-night-stand, public-sex-against-a-building sort, either. And yet here she was, with absolutely no desire to move. And absolutely no regrets.
Nic lifted his head, gave her a mock frown that in no way reached the beautiful green eyes she could just barely make out in the shadows. “Are you saying that making love to me wasn’t earth-shattering?”