by Maya Banks
When her fingers slipped into the waistband of his slacks and began undoing the fly, he nearly lost it. He took in deep breaths, trying to calm the adrenaline boiling through his veins.
But then, as soon as the fly was loosened, she reached down and cupped his erection.
Oh, hell.
She leaned up on tiptoe to kiss him, all the while caressing his length with soft, silky fingers. “You know, I’d love nothing more than to drop to my knees and give you the best experience of your entire life, but not the first time. I’m a little more demanding the first time with a new guy. I expect him to rock my world first.”
If that wasn’t a challenge, he didn’t know what was. He pulled her away from him enough that he could walk her back to the bed. He pulled just as impatiently at her clothing until she was wearing nothing more than the sexiest damn lingerie he’d ever seen up close and personal.
She was an absolute siren in black. Black hair and wicked black lacy panties and bra that barely covered her nipples. Her hair was delectably mussed, giving her that just-out-of-bed look. And her eyes. So sultry with liquid eroticism. She wasn’t just beautiful. She was bloody amazing.
He tumbled her onto the mattress, enjoying the way she sprawled, laid out for him, a feast for his senses. And he wanted to indulge them all. Touch, sight, smell… He wanted to hear her whisper his name and her throaty sounds of passion. But most of all he wanted to taste every inch of her skin.
Knowing if he didn’t take care of the condoms now, he’d never stop in the heat of the moment, he fumbled in the nightstand, pulled out the entire box and tossed it on the bed.
Then he came down over her, captured her mouth and molded her soft body to his.
It was like being struck by lightning. An electrical charge surged through his body, tightening every one of his muscles. She returned his kiss every bit as passionately as he kissed her. Her hands roamed over his back, exploring every inch of his flesh.
Remembering the vivid fantasy he’d had earlier that night, he rolled, taking her with him until she was positioned astride him.
The reality far surpassed the weak fantasy he’d spun in his head. Nothing compared to having her here, in his arms, her thighs pressed to his sides.
“Undress for me,” he said hoarsely. “Right here where I can watch.”
A wicked smile glimmered on full, kiss-swollen lips. Slowly she reached behind her and began to unclasp her bra. Instead of letting it fall immediately, she held the tiny lace confection to her chest and then allowed the straps to slide down her arms inch by inch.
He was barely capable of breath. The anticipation was killing him. And then finally she pulled the bra away, baring her full breasts to his avid gaze.
And they were perfect breasts. Perfectly shaped. Perfect size. Just the right amount of bounce. Firm. High. Delectable nipples that just begged for his mouth.
“I’ll need your help with the panties,” she murmured, her eyes flashing mischievously.
He couldn’t even stammer out a reply. He nodded, but then right now he’d agree to damn near anything.
She leaned forward, pushing her gorgeous breasts mere inches from his mouth. Then she slid one leg over him so she was no longer straddling his hips. She turned then and began working her panties slowly down her buttocks.
He wasn’t at all sure what he was supposed to help with, but he was game. He turned over on one elbow and reached to steady her waist with his free hand, letting his fingers wander down the small of her back, enjoying the feel of so much silky flesh.
When the underwear was down to her knees, trapped there by the mattress, she turned on her back and stretched her legs over his chest.
More than happy to accommodate, he took over, pulling the panties the rest of the way until they came free of her feet. He tossed them across the room and went after her like a starving predator.
He slid over her body, the sensation of skin on skin nearly undoing him. He kissed her neck, nibbled, tasted and teased and then worked down, wanting nothing more than to have her breasts underneath his tongue and lips.
She was utter perfection. Curvy, sweet, not too slim, not too heavy. Just…perfect.
A sigh escaped her when his lips closed over one straining nipple. It was an intoxicating combination of hardness and velvet. Luscious. So very soft. He sucked gently at it, rolling it between his lips. He flicked his tongue repeatedly over the point, bringing it to an even harder bud.
Then he slid his mouth over the hollow between her breasts to the other nipple. For several seconds he played, idly toying with it. She twisted restlessly beneath him, her breaths coming more rapidly now.
“You are so damn perfect,” he murmured. “I can’t get enough of you. You taste better than anything you could possibly cook.”
He looked up to see her lips form a pout. “You haven’t tried my cooking, then,” she said. “I’m a wonderful cook.”
He laughed. “It was a compliment, or at least it was meant to be.”
“I think you’re doing just fine without the compliments,” she said in breathy delight.
He cupped her breast in his palm, shaping it, watching as the nipple hardened again. “You like this. What else do you like, Pippa? Tell me how to please you.”
“Oh, you’re doing fine. No complaints here. I love it when a guy takes his time and doesn’t just think about his own pleasure.”
“Oh, but this is my pleasure,” he murmured. “I love touching you. I love tasting you. Love watching you respond. How your eyes go a darker green when you’re really turned on. And that little vixen smile that tells me I’m in for one hell of a good time.”
“On second thought, keep on with the compliments. I’m liking this very much,” she purred.
“Where do you like to be touched?” he whispered. Her eyes darkened again. She reached for his hand and slid it down her belly to the juncture of her legs. She guided his fingers over her softness to the tiny bundle of nerves at the apex and gently stroked the tip over it.
Then she moaned when he took over himself. Oh, yeah, she liked that. A lot.
He could be just as wicked as she could. Still stroking through the soft, velvet folds of her femininity, he lowered his head and sucked her nipple into his mouth.
She let out a cry and arched upward, her hands tangling in his hair. She was forceful. Nothing dainty about her. She knew what she liked and demanded it. He loved that about her.
He stroked his thumb over her clitoris one last time and then he pulled his hand away long enough to snag a condom. He leaned down to kiss her as he parted her legs. He wanted it to last, too, but he also knew this wouldn’t be the only time tonight. There was no way he’d get enough and he planned to use every single minute she was here to his advantage. Neither of them would be able to walk the next day but he was more than okay with that.
He nibbled at the corner of her mouth. “Are you ready for me?”
She responded by wrapping her legs around his waist and arching upward. He smiled at her impatience.
He planted his forearms on either side of her shoulders. “Guide me in, Pippa. Show me how you want it.”
Her pupils flared and then she reached down, circling him with her fingers. She positioned him against her opening and arched just enough that he slid in the barest inch.
They both let out an anguished sound and he could hold back no longer. Flexing his hips, he drove deep. At first he thought he’d hurt her, but then she dug her fingers into his shoulders and all but roared at him not to stop.
He grinned, kissed that ferocious mouth and then began to move in a frantic rhythm. There was no style, no grace. Their lovemaking couldn’t be described as polished or smooth. Far from it.
It was animalistic, with Pippa taking every bit as much as she gave. She demanded everything he had and more. He’d never made love to a woman more fierce than her, and he loved every minute of it.
She fused her mouth to his. Then she nibbled at his jaw and moved her mo
uth lower to sink her teeth into his neck. He’d wear her marks for days and it stroked his male pride to think of someone else being able to see the marks of her possession.
But she wouldn’t be without marks of her own. Oh, hell, no.
“Are you with me, Pippa?” he panted out. “I need you with me. I’m close.”
“Sooo there,” she said from behind clenched teeth. “Go hard, Cam. Don’t let up. Please just don’t let up.”
As if he could.
He let out a roar of his own and began driving into her with powerful, quick strokes. He wasn’t aware of anything but her. Only her. Writhing beneath him. Surrounding him with her sweetness. He smelled her, heard her, could still taste her on his tongue. And, oh, man, he felt her all the way to his bones.
“Cam!” she cried out.
Her fingers gripped his shoulders and she shuddered violently beneath him. He gathered her in his arms and let out a shout of his own as his body seemed to fracture and break into about a million pieces.
The next thing he knew he was flush against her, all his weight atop her body. It felt so damn good even though he had to be crushing her. But she wasn’t complaining. In fact, she was wrapped so tightly around him that he couldn’t have moved if he wanted to.
He lay there several long seconds while he caught his breath, and then with a groan, he rolled to the side so he could dispose of the condom.
When he looked back, Pippa was sprawled rather indelicately on her back, her expression dazed.
“I think you killed me,” she murmured. “When can we do it again?”
CHAPTER 3
Pippa dragged her eyes open and stared dumbly at the white cloud enveloping her head. Her body felt as though it had been hit by a freight train, but, oh, man, was it a wonderful feeling.
It took her a moment to realize she was facedown on the pillow. She lifted her head, her hair falling like a curtain over her eyes. Impatiently, she shoved it back and propped herself up on her elbow.
The bed was empty. Well, almost. At the end, her clothing was neatly folded, a nice subtle reminder that she was to depart as soon as she awakened. She wrinkled her nose. Cam certainly hadn’t stuck around. She couldn’t even tell he’d been in bed with her. No indention in the pillow. No lingering scent. No warmth. Nothing at all to indicate that they’d spent the entire night tearing up those wonderfully luxurious sheets.
With a sigh, she pushed herself up farther, holding the sheet over her breasts. Then she snorted over the realization that she was being unreasonably modest. He’d made himself clear. He wanted no awkward next-morning encounters. She didn’t have to worry about him barging in unannounced. And even if he did, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t seen her boobs already.
Not only had he seen them but he’d licked them, kissed them, nibbled at them and worshipped them over and over.
A shiver stole over her and her skin prickled, her nipples hardening at the memory of just how hard and often they’d made love through the night. She’d be lucky if she could manage to dress herself and get down those damn stairs.
She was tempted to take a really long hot shower. Her last attempt at a shower had been interrupted, and, well, she’d just gotten sweaty all over again. Many times again after that shower with Cam. But he wanted her out and she wasn’t going to delay things.
She checked her watch and groaned. It was past nine. She should have been up and out a lot earlier but she hadn’t drifted to sleep until well into the morning.
Nothing like wearing out her welcome.
She scrambled out of bed, wincing as all of her muscles protested the movement. Hell, she hurt in places she’d never even used before.
After pulling on her underwear, she slipped the dress over her head and put on her shoes, beating a hasty path to the bathroom to try to do something with her hair. She had makeup in her purse but she wasn’t going to bother. She had no one to impress and the car would drop her outside her apartment.
After brushing the tangles from her hair, she twisted it into a loose knot and fixed it in place with a large clip she’d pulled from her purse. She perched her sunglasses on her nose, satisfied that she didn’t look like such a fright.
Taking a deep breath, she exited the bedroom and quietly walked toward the stairs. She had no idea if Cam was even here, but the last thing she wanted to do was draw attention to her late exit from his bed.
She tiptoed down the stairs and when she reached the bottom, she was greeted by a tall, somber-looking man who was an indeterminate age somewhere between forty and seventy.
“Miss Laingley, the car is out front waiting to take you into the city.”
She winced. “I’m sorry. Has it been waiting long? I’m afraid I overslept.”
The older man smiled kindly at her. “Not at all. There’s no need to offer an apology. Come, I’ll see you out.”
He offered his arm, but that was awkward so she pretended not to see and walked ahead of him toward the massive double front doors. She paused when she got there, suddenly realizing she hadn’t gotten her coat. With a frown, she turned, only to see the man holding it open for her.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
No matter what Cam had said about it being a while, it was obvious she wasn’t the first woman he’d given such a spiel to. His butler or whatever the hell this guy was had the whole process way too down pat.
She slid her arms into the sleeves and then pulled the coat closed as the man opened the door. Cold air bil lowed in and Pippa blinked at the sudden white. Then she smiled. “It snowed!”
“Indeed it did. At least six inches according to the weather.”
This time when he offered his arm, Pippa took it to descend the steps. She still had on those toothpick heels she’d worn the night before, and while they were sexy beasts for shoes, they weren’t appropriate for icy conditions.
He was solicitous of her the entire way, ushering her into the back of the sleek black sedan that was already warm and toasty. He hung there a moment, staring into the backseat as he held on to the door.
“Have a safe trip, miss.”
“Thank you,” she murmured.
He closed the door and the driver pulled down the drive that had already been cleared of snow. She turned in her seat, staring back at the house she hadn’t gotten a good look at the night before.
It was a hulking piece of construction, but it wasn’t as looming or intimidating as she thought it might have appeared. It looked entirely normal. In keeping with the other mansions that dotted this area.
It was, however, extremely private and surrounded by thick woods on all sides. There was no way to tell the total acreage, but she guessed it was a lot. She couldn’t see another house or even the road as they wound their way down the drive.
Yes, it did appear that Cam was Mr. Reclusive as Devon had suggested. Now that she’d had a taste of all that dark, broody passion, it made her wonder just how often Cam ventured out to lure a woman back to his cave.
She nearly laughed. She made it sound like he was the Beast, sulking in his lair while he waited for Beauty. But if anything, Cam was Beauty. The man was sinfully gorgeous and forbiddingly perfect.
And he could make love like a dream. She’d wear and feel the effects of his lovemaking for a week. A sharp tingle snaked down her back, invading her limbs, bringing awareness and arousal all over again.
She gave one last look to the imposing structure as the car turned the final bend of the driveway. Then with a sigh, she leaned her head back and closed her eyes.
* * *
Cam stared through the slat in the blinds of his upstairs office as the car bearing Pippa back to the city drove away. For several long seconds, he continued to stare, even when it disappeared from view.
He turned away and stood for a long moment, hands thrust into his pockets. It annoyed and bewildered him that he had no idea what he was going to do next. He experienced a sudden surge of restlessness, an urge to go do something, although what, he had n
o idea. He only knew that being here, alone, in his too-quiet house was suddenly…unbearable.
He scowled. It was the damn woman. He’d been caught off guard by everything about her. Maybe he’d expected someone more like Ashley. Sweet, shy, innocent, naive, a bit vulnerable, in need of protection. Maybe his ego had been stroked by offering Pippa a night in his bed. Maybe he thought he’d been granting her a favor while indulging in what he’d wanted to do from the moment he’d met her.
Instead, she’d rocked his world. This was a confident, self-assured woman who wasn’t afraid to reach out and take what she wanted, and she’d wanted him. His ego should be assuaged by that. But he found himself disgruntled because…the damn roles had been reversed.
It was almost as if she had been the one to say, Hey, I want you but I don’t want any strings. She’d taken control.
He’d acted like an out-of-control, desperate, raging sex fiend. Nothing like the composed, commanding man he liked to present to the rest of the world.
And that…well, that bothered him. A lot.
Shaking his head, he walked down the hall back to his bedroom. He entered hesitantly, which was stupid given that he’d seen her drive away, but somehow her presence was still firmly imprinted. He could smell her.
His gaze traveled over the rumpled bed linens, the mussed pillows. One of the sheets was barely clinging to the bed. Most of it was on the floor.
He should have taken her to one of the guest rooms. He didn’t bring women to his bedroom. Ever. If he’d actually been thinking the night before, he would have remained downstairs where she wouldn’t have breached the areas private to him at all. But the only prevailing thought he’d had was to get her into bed, however fast he could do it.
Lust was a bitch.
A controlling, fickle mistress from which there was no escape. At least not when it came to Pippa Laingley. Maybe now that he’d had her six ways to Sunday, his blood would cool and he wouldn’t lose his damn mind every time she came within a hundred feet.
His gut told him this was in no way true, but for his peace of mind, he was going with it.