by Mel Blue
He trailed his fingers up and down her back. It was both a comforting and arousing gesture, especially with her skin so sensitive. No question, she wanted to experience it all again, even just to see if it was a fluke. After they recovered. Another round just might do her in.
“Go to sleep,” she told him. “We’ll do this again when you wake up.”
He made a sound of assent, his eyes already closed. “Sleep with me. I always wanted to wake up and have sex.”
“Let me clean up first.”
His expression had softened, but his masculinity seemed so arresting, she had to catch her breath. He was hers for the next few days. His chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. For a while she watched him sleep. Some men looked completely different. He looked the same. Although his features seemed more pronounced, as though slumbering showed all the years he’d actually experienced, instead of his age.
Eventually she managed to pull herself together and clean up. Afterward, as she curled up next to him, she told herself she was doing what he wanted. It didn’t matter and it didn’t mean anything that she found sleep so easily.
CHAPTER FIVE
Flames licked at the skin of his arm and jolted Dwayne awake. Relief doused him as he climbed out the dream. It wasn’t jet fuel and fire eating through his skin. Amelia had used his arm like a pillow, and the limb had fallen asleep. She groaned when he shifted but didn’t open her eyes.
He ran a hand through his hair, trying to get his breathing under control. He was in a hotel room. The sound of metal crashing against the earth wasn’t screaming around him. There was only Amelia’s soft sigh as she settled deeper into the covers.
A nightmare hadn’t plagued him in weeks. Had to be the new surroundings, his heightened emotions, and the warm, naked woman beside him. She was new and uncharted. Nothing about her caused fear, but there was plenty of uncertainty. He hadn’t expected to feel anything when they had sex. Not complaining. Yet the complexity and depth of what they’d shared shook him. Wasn’t his first time supposed to be awkward and lacking? Hell, his first time was with a stranger. That alone should have left the experience cold. Instead, remembering snatches of their intimate moments made his entire body tense and crave for more. Hunger for her, and not just in a physical way.
Shit. He was making a rookie mistake and thinking sex meant more than fucking. He couldn’t think up enough cuss words to turn the air blue. Calm down, boy.
Amelia’s soft chuckle drew his gaze over to her. Her lips were sleep-swollen. “So?”
The dream lost its hold on him. “You’re gloating.”
“Am not.” She threw her arm over her breasts. “Naps just make me feel refreshed.”
Her dark nipples had peaked right before she hid them. His body responded, and he could experiment, take advantage and do whatever made him a better lover. Their boundaries were clear. The carte blanche didn’t stop him from feeling selfish. It’s why he’d told her to come first. He’d wanted her to come even when he was still a virgin. Simply put, he wanted her to enjoy this experience as much as he would.
Dwayne pulled her closer and then under him. She made a little noise that caused him to press his cock right into the heat between her legs. “What don’t you get enough of?” he asked.
She squirmed. He clasped her hands and pulled them above her head. She had to arch her back with the position. He liked that, so he strengthened his grip.
Her mussed appearance conflicted with the way her attention sharpened. “Someone woke up full of testosterone.”
The dream of the crash reminded him of everything he’d denied himself. As if he could forget. And sex was right there at the top of the list of things he needed to experience. From what she said, it was something they had in common. “I asked you a question.”
She sighed and relaxed beneath him. “I don’t get enough of…a lot. Almost everything. It’s my own fault, though.”
He frowned. “Why?”
She pursed her lips, apparently seeing something in his expression that troubled her. “You know, when I first entered that ballroom, I didn’t see you. I wouldn’t have thought to look for you. Seraphina pointed you out and that’s my problem.”
He snorted. “I was being a wuss, lurking against that wall. Good eye.”
“No. I was looking for slick and suave.” She laughed. “Okay, maybe not that, but I wasn’t looking for a virgin bush pilot.” Her brows furrowed, frustration clear on her face. “Let’s say you hadn’t asked me for tips but I’d given them to you anyway. How would that make you feel?”
He flexed his fingers against her wrists. “I know how I’d feel, but I’d be more curious why you needed to.”
Her fear was almost palpable. “I’m a workaholic.” The confession sounded forced.
He shook his head without thinking hard about her pronouncement. She was so damn warm beneath him. Maybe he was fooled. They hadn’t spent enough time together. No doubt, his judgment was somewhat clouded. “Did I do anything wrong earlier? Would you feel better if I did?”
She blinked. “No. No. It wouldn’t have been better. It couldn’t have been better.”
A woman who went out of her way to make someone else feel at ease couldn’t be that bad. “So where’s this workaholic?”
“Just wait,” she promised.
“Sure,” he said, unconvinced, and glanced down.
Her breasts were flattened against his chest. She’d wrapped her legs around the back of his knees. He rose to put some space between them. Warmth pooled in to his stomach. He could see the top of her mound, bare and beautiful. He shook his head. That cloud was getting thicker.
“So,” he said, “you push men away. What else do you do?”
Her eyes widened. “Push?” She sighed. “Maybe.”
He lifted his brow. When she didn’t answer, he nudged his cock against her wet pussy.
She moaned then said, “Fine. Yes.”
He smiled. “Didn’t hurt, did it?”
“Actually, that was quite painful to admit.” She tried to hide the laugh and failed.
He let go of her hands to trace his fingers over her torso. She was so responsive to his touch. He wasn’t an expert by any means, but this was a woman who didn’t get caressed enough. That didn’t make sense to him.
He settled on his haunches, just letting his hands take in every inch of her. She kept her arms up, head tilted back and eyes closed. His palms felt rough against her silky skin. She basked anyway, because, like him, she denied herself the simple things.
He leaned forward and sucked one dark nipple until she moaned. He pulled back. The areola shrunk to a tiny pebble. He did the same with the right one. When he settled on his haunches to get a better, full view of her, he caressed them with his thumbs. They were slippery with the added lubrication. It shouldn’t have been arousing, but everything about her turned him on. He dropped his gaze lower. Her pussy was dark brown on the outside, but the inner lips were pink. And wet.
Shit.
His mouth watered with a different kind of hunger. “Teach me to eat.”
The noise she made sounded like a whimper. He smiled. “Something you don’t get enough of, I’m guessing.”
“Dwayne,” she said, her voice husky.
He took that as a yes and lowered to kiss her belly button. The sheets swished softly at the movement. He added tongue to the kiss. Her stomach jumped beneath his mouth. Since she wasn’t telling him different, he slid down until he rested on his elbows, positioned perfectly between her legs. Without having to ask, she spread open for him. The simple action aroused him. Fighting back a groan, he licked inside her thigh. She shifted beneath the caress. She was telling him in small ways what she wanted so words weren’t necessary. But he liked how her voice grew husky when she was aroused.
He ran his fingertips along the outside of her legs. “If you don’t want me to do this, let me know.”
“It’s not that. I’m just thinking about the mechanics.”
He turned his head away from her thigh, closed his eyes and inhaled. She didn’t smell the same as the day before. When he’d showered, curiosity had gotten the best of him. He’d taken in her musky scent on his fingers. Now, she smelled…like him? His stomach clenched. A primitive spurt of satisfaction filled him.
“Tell me, Amelia.” A thirst tickled the back of his throat. He wanted to know if she tasted like she smelled. “Teach me.”
“I—um.” Her face flushed. “Like this.”
She placed her hands over his and guided him until her clit was exposed.
“Like a kiss?” he asked.
“Yes and no. More tongue.” Her breathing was shallow. “Licking all of me feels great but concentrate here.” She pointed to her clit and let her hand drop away, fast.
He glanced up. “You’re blushing again, Amelia.”
“I know,” she said and fell back on the pillows with a laugh. “I have sex. I don’t talk about it. There’s no manual or how—”
“You’re rambling.” He smiled.
“Oh, God. I know.” She sighed. “Just more tongue than lips.”
He took a taste-test by licking from the bottom to the top. Her sweet, tangy musk filled his mouth, and he wanted more. Her hips had lifted with the motion, so he did it again, getting better acquainted with her territory with each swipe of his tongue. His dick pressed hard into his stomach as he lowered on the bed to be mouth-level, but the thought of her pleasure being his again was enough to ignore the ache.
He licked and sucked, down, up, and around until her clit was swollen like before. Lust and need kept him focused, so when his tongue and mouth knew her intimately, he concentrated on the hard nub. Slippery when he just flicked it. Hard when he pressed his tongue against it.
“Just like that,” she said, sounding breathless.
He swirled his tongue over her clit and sucked it into his mouth, over and over. Her moans grew heavier. She gripped his hair with one hand as her hips met the soft thrust of his mouth. He could feel the pulse of his heartbeat in his dick now and almost begged her to come.
“Use your fingers,” she said. “To fuck me.”
His balls tightened, but he shifted and followed the direction. His scalp damn near screamed, but that pain felt like pleasure. She was riding his mouth, his fingers. He was going to make her come from his hands and tongue. Days wouldn’t be enough to learn all the nuances of sex, of women. He felt her quicken around his fingers, so he pumped faster.
“Stiffen your tongue and just—oh.”
He was already doing it before she finished the command. He moved his tongue back and forth as he would have if he touched her with just his finger. She grew wetter. She lifted her hips and let out a long, aching sound. His balls drew up until the sensation tensed his spine. Now that he had a taste of her, he never wanted to come anywhere else but inside her.
Dwayne rose between her legs while she was still in the throes of an orgasm. He positioned himself just right and slammed home inside her. She clenched around him so much wetter than before. Everything in his mind just fell away. Would he ever get tired of that snug fit? Fuck. He hoped not. He managed three more strokes before a yell ripped from his throat. A tsunami of pleasure stole whatever air left in his lungs. His heart banged against his ribcage while his muscles trembled from the strength of his climax. Her taste still filled his mouth, and he shuddered, already wanting to do it all again.
He felt boneless, but he managed to say, “Not bad, Amelia.”
Sweat had collected on her face, and though she looked sated, she pressed a hand to her heart. “Not bad, indeed. Sleep?” she said, her voice full of an unspent laugh.
The sheets were a mess of tangles and half off the bed. They had never looked more comfortable. “Hell, yes,” he said, drowsy already.
She reached out for him, and he pulled her into his embrace. Her scent and his mingled on the air. She was warm and soft beneath him, until he rolled so she could sprawl over his chest. Her skin would stick to his once their sweat dried, and that felt intimate and right. He worried for a brief moment that he was the only one who felt it.
She crooked her head in the curve of his neck and sighed. Contentment washed over him when she traced the scars on his forearm. Sleep beckoned at the gentle caress. They had days to be like this with each other. It suddenly didn’t seem enough.
***
At barely ten in the morning, The Beaudelaire’s restaurant had an austere atmosphere. The wait staff wore black bow ties that set off their white gloves and crisp white shirts. The mood was softened by the high-end ceiling fans and dangling lights that made you feel like you were spending a lazy day on the bayou.
Amelia checked her watch for the fifth time. Her nerves had been stretched since she’d crept out of Dwayne’s hotel room in yesterday’s outfit. She had wanted to linger, watch him sleep and maybe coax him awake. So she’d written him a note and left him naked and asleep because she had wanted to stay.
After their last lesson, she had come to terms with the fact she wasn’t a teacher. Maybe more like a coach to an all-star. There for moral support in general. Standing on the sidelines with a keen eye to look out for anything the player missed. But, really, useless in the light and magnitude of the talent on display. There was much to be said about passion. With Dwayne, it damn sure outshone being green when it came to sex.
Again, she looked at her watch. Being even five minutes late proved how much he didn’t need her. Normally that wouldn’t put a hitch in her stride. She tended to arrive early everywhere she went. She, also, loved her independence. Loved it more when the man in her life had enough of his own. But here she was, halfway through her first Mimosa, palms sweating, heartbeat thready, just waiting, hoping he’d come to the brunch she’d invited him to.
Dwayne, the former virgin, had her dick-whipped.
She sucked down the last of her drink, met the waiter’s eye, and signaled to him so she could get her check. And maybe find some of her dignity. He may have been five minutes late, but she’d been waiting for at least fifteen. Of course, that’s when Dwayne waltzed in, his long stride slow and steady.
How was it possible he looked sexier clothed? The plain dress shirt hung well over his broad shoulders and the wide expanse of his chest. His jeans didn’t do his muscled thighs justice. The waiter frowned at him and his casual dress until Dwayne gestured to Amelia.
She’d worn a slinky jersey dress and paired it with high heels that made her feel tall and sexy. She looked at home, sitting in this fancy hotel restaurant. It was her job to look put together. Her clients wouldn’t take her advice if she needed help herself.
But he wasn’t a client. And, no, the clothes didn’t make the man. She knew what was under them. Knew her gut hadn’t lied when it had told her that he was fucking trouble. Apparently, she’d only heard the first word.
His smile widened with each step, and there went the butterflies in her stomach. Amelia sighed, almost ready to just give in to the improbable and irrational emotions that wanted to spring up.
“Amelia,” he said before sitting right next to her instead of across the table.
“Blackstone.”
He lifted her face and kissed her. The kiss was short and hot, but a claiming nonetheless. It scared her how much she loved that feeling.
He barely pulled back to whisper in her ear. “You taste like champagne.”
“I’ve had some.” Her eyes drifted close. She fought the need to revel in his mouth on her.
“You snuck out on me,” he accused.
His lips brushed along her lobe. She did her best to form a full sentence. “Wanted to shower but had no other panties or clothes.”
“I wouldn’t have complained.” He straightened.
He had her stomach doing flips. This…this had to stop. He wasn’t hers. He’d given her his virginity. She hadn’t taken it. Setting her sights on anything but getting him ready to go back into the world and find a woman was pointless, maybe even pathet
ic. Amelia put her hand on his chest to push him away. It was the right thing to do. The sane thing. Her hormones had something better in mind. She let her hand wander lower.
Someone cleared his throat to her left. The waiter. She left her hand in Dwayne’s lap. “I’ll have the avocado crab and crawfish salad.” She hesitated. “And another Mimosa. Dwayne?”
“Something with steak.”
She snorted. “How manly.”
They continued to flirt while waiting for their drinks. He stole her Mimosa to try it out when the waiter brought it to the table. She took it back from him, almost smiling. “Get your own.”
He shrugged and ignored his Coke. “I wanted to see if I’d like it.”
“You’ve never had one? I’m surprised.”
“Orange juice and champagne?” He made a face. “Sounds girly, but I like it.”
He had his moments of being completely male. She shook her head. “You need to get out more.”
He rolled his shoulders, his face somber all of a sudden. “I had the same thought.”
She found the throwaway statement too interesting to pass up. “So what were you doing all this time? You’d fly over Paris and never make a pit stop?”
“I spent a lot of time in the Australian Outback. Had a home there for a while. I’d run medical supplies or food. I was in high demand during natural disasters anywhere in the world. If I ran low on funds, I’d pick up a rich client here or there who would pay me an obscene amount of money per hour to fly them in the middle of nowhere.” He ran his thumb over his bottom lip then straightened in his chair. “But, mostly Australia. There were people who went hunting or exploring and got lost. I’d have the task of finding them.”
Finding them. The person being alive wasn’t a given. Maybe he hadn’t experienced a lot of everyday normal life, but the one he had left its scars. They’d been carved into him, and it made him a more appealing, interesting human being.
She’d had her share of heartbreak. Over the years, she’d learned how to sidestep them. The more she zig-zagged those pitfalls, the less risks she took. After her last broken engagement, her life involved clients, parties to find clients or hook them up on dates, and trying to relax at home.