I shook my head, not caring about the consequences. “It was love at first gripe,” I declared. “You told me you hated my tea cozies and I instantly wanted to fuck your brains out.”
Some of his tension eased and he smiled. “And now?” He took a step forward, so he was right inside my personal space, close enough to rub a strand of hair through his fingertips, and then slide that hand onto my shoulder as his gaze dropped to encompass my breasts that he’d been watching jiggle as I danced, and then lower. “I’ve told you this isn’t happening, but you’re testing my willpower.”
“I know.” Both my hands came up to rest on the chest of his soft sweater, and I could feel his heart bounding underneath. Mine was too. “So why aren’t we kissing?”
His hand slid off my shoulder and up over my nape—which gave me shivers—and then into my hair, where he gently fisted a handful to hold me still. “I’ve never wanted to fuck anybody as much as I want to fuck you now,” he growled softly. “But especially after your doctor boyfriend told me about how ‘accommodating’ you are, the last thing I want is to become another notch on your bedpost.”
“But I—”
“Don’t care what you’re going say,” he said softly. “I know what will happen. It will be beyond amazing. I will fall hopelessly in love with you. And then you will move on. Because sex with a man isn’t the way into a relationship for you. It’s the way past.”
I tried to shake my head but he held me still by my hair. “Things might be different with you. I feel different with you.”
His expression stilled. “Are we talking arousal? Or emotions?”
“Both.” I was frowning in earnest now, wondering what I had to say to convince him. “I know I’ve been careless with sex, and it didn’t mean anything—”
“Precisely the reason I don’t want to make this meaningless.”
“Will it?”
He nodded, but he was frowning. Maybe he wasn’t sure. “And anyway,” he added, “It’s not as if we could have a relationship. You wouldn’t last five minutes with the sort of slander the tabloid newspapers publish. They’d be calling you the Plunder from Downunder, and me the Pariah of Desire or some nonsense.”
He finished with an arrogant tilt of his chin but I was incredulous. “Did you make that up on the spot or have you been thinking about this for some time.”
“Far too long,” he snapped back, “Lying in sheets that smell like you, hard as a fucking iron bar for hours, trying to concentrate on pain so I could stop thinking about what was under that pretty pink dress. Wondering what you look like naked, with your hair sliding over your breasts.”
His gaze dipped again and he swallowed, but his grip on my hair didn’t loosen. If anything it grew tighter. “Don’t imagine for a second that I haven’t tried to find a loophole, a reason I should get naked with you.”
“I don’t care about the papers or what people think of me.”
He raised a single eyebrow. “You will, when they’re digging up details of your sordid past.” He made inverted commas with one hand. “…and splashing it across page three. They could make a nun look tawdry. Imagine what they’d do with your resume.”
“Well thank you!” I tried to pull away and some of his indignation faded.
“Don’t pretend to be insulted. You’re the one who told me you were promiscuous.”
“I know,” I sniffed. “But you don’t need to make it sound ugly.”
He gazed at me prosaically. “It isn’t ugly. It just is what it is. I don’t wish you otherwise. But it could be made ugly in the media.”
“So you’re saying you’re okay with it,” I prodded. “You’re not jealous?”
His eyes narrowed. “Don’t push me.”
“Because if you don’t want me—”
And that was as far as I got before his grip on my hair tightened so much it hurt, but before I could say ouch, he made an inarticulate growl and his lips landed on mine, hot and demanding. In that moment, every complaint went out of my head.
My hands slid up his sweater to clutch at his shoulders, feeling the bunched muscles beneath, and as he released my hair to cup my skull, I pressed in on him, my breasts crushing up against his hard chest.
I was so turned on, in fact, I could barely think straight, because he tasted even better than he smelt—a dark, mysterious flavor that was mixed up with the texture of his tongue sliding against mine. I could feel my body throbbing, and I could also feel that iron bar he was talking about, and I couldn’t get close enough to it, so I clung to his shoulders and hitched one leg and then the other around his waist.
His hands slid down my back, supporting me, and one wrapped around my body to tease the edges of a breast with sliding fingertips, making me moan against his mouth. Around us the forest was dark and quiet, but the throbbing inside me was so loud I thought he must have been able to hear it.
When he was supporting me completely—his large hands deliciously cupping my butt-cheeks—I slid my hands up into his damp hair, mussing it as I kissed him back, tasting desire and frustration and all the conflict he’d been holding inside.
He was purging it into the kiss and I met it with my desperation, wanting every moment I could have with him, feeling the throb of lust between us deepening our connection, cementing it.
Or so I thought until he pulled away and grabbed my shoulders, trying to pry me off. Naturally I clung harder.
“This isn’t going to work,” he growled, but his dark gaze was already sliding down to my breasts where I could feel my nipples were as hard as little stones.
“I don’t care about work. Or right. Or consequences,” I said. “I want you. That’s all I care about.” I meant that, and I was sure he’d hear the sincerity in my tone.
But he shook his head. “One of us has to be sensible.”
As if talking could stop the runaway train of lust that had gripped me.
I opened my mouth to tell him that when, unexpectedly, he sighed—a deep sigh of what sounded like resignation. Then he kissed me again, determined, persuasive—as if I needed persuading—and so deliberately slow that my insides melted like warming chocolate. One of his hands slid up and down my back, and it made me so aroused, he could have been stroking my clitoris.
My clinging grip weakened and he had to support me completely as he kissed away every moment of anguish I’d suffered, his tongue cleverly stroking the sensitive tissue inside my lips.
I might have moaned. I know my nipples were so hard they could have snapped off. Then my legs unwound and he eased me back into standing, and pulled away from the kiss. I forced my eyes open, but my gaze was unfocused and wavering. I was completely intoxicated and I simply couldn’t think.
“Fritha,” he said softly, and I licked my lips, wanting his back on them, until he started nuzzling my neck. “Tell me what you hate about one night stands.”
CHAPTER SIX
Tell me what you hate about one night stands…
A red flag rose, but I was far too languorous after that kiss to pay attention, so I didn’t censor myself at all. I said, “Those men usually think foreplay means a blow job. So there’s very little kissing—”
“And not much pleasure for you?” His voice was a low growl next to my ear, and the sensation of his hot breath there completely undid me. I slumped against him and I think my legs opened. A cool breeze rustled through the forest around us but nothing could dampen my arousal.
“It’s okay,” I breathed. “I know how to come, but…”
“No intimacy,” he said, then he kissed his way down my chest and his warm mouth settled over a nipple. My head fell back as I sighed and completely relaxed in his arms. The sensation of warm wetness against that hard nub of flesh was driving me crazy. I could feel clutching and tingling between my legs, then his tongue came over it firmly as he sucked, and I couldn’t stop myself moaning out loud as the deep pull of pleasure behind my breasts linked up with the clutching between my legs, making me tremble.
> Before I knew what was happening, he was lying me down on the leaves, and when I would have touched him, he grabbed a wrist in each of his hands and held them down while he feasted on my breasts, licking and sucking and nibbling, and I’d never felt anything like it.
Tingles of internal fireworks melted into hot surges of pleasure that seemed to drive down my body to where the flesh between my legs was throbbing, aching with the need to be pounded. Hard.
I’d had plenty of hot-and-sweaty experiences, but nothing had prepared me for the exquisite sensations he created. They were so sharp they burned, as if he was branding me with pleasure, and I forgot everything but the feel of that mouth as it explored my breasts, making me crazy, making me pant, making me want to beg.
And then when I felt so overheated I thought my head might explode, he kissed his way down my midriff and over my trembling stomach, to arrive at the curls between my legs. I shuddered then and the clutching sensations got worse, but when he let my hands go so he could cup my ass, I opened up for him instinctively.
Then I felt that hot, wet tongue sliding down my labia and my hands tangled in my hair above my head, clutching it, wanting to anchor myself on something because what he was doing to me was so amazing I had to stop myself screaming.
But inside my mind was all Fuck! And Oh. My. God. And I’m going to die here. Because he knew what to do. Those lazy sweeping caresses made my whole body tremble with the building pleasure. And when they led back to my clitoris, it was throbbing so much as he put his mouth over it, I thought he’d feel the pulse. When he suckled gently my ass came off the ground as a wave of pleasure arced through me.
It was all white-noise then with my hands clutching while I made animal mewling sounds and moaned and squealed as he clutched onto my ass to hold me still while he teased me. But that only excited me more as he licked and sucked and flicked his way into the tightest, sharpest, hottest vortex I’d ever been pulled into.
And when my panting and squealing was so overwhelming I thought my brain would explode, he stopped teasing around the edges and latched onto my clitoris, suckling it gently and rubbing it with his tongue so firmly that the contrast snapped me over the edge into spasms of mind-numbing bliss that made my whole body shudder for so long, I must have filled the whole forest with the groaning shouts of ecstasy that squeezed out of me. Then, finally, when the orgasm stopped and he let me go, I was gasping for breath and was so lightheaded I was literally seeing stars on the edges of my vision.
My ears buzzed and my face was so hot, my lips so dry, I felt like I’d been through a sauna. It seemed to take forever for the night air around us to penetrate, and the cool leaves beneath my back to register as I came back in control of my body.
When I could see properly, I turned my head to find him lying at my side, propped up on one elbow, picking leaves out of my hair. He stopped and smiled at me, such a gentle, disarming smile, I barely recognized him as the Max Banks that the rest of the world knew.
“Hello” he said softly. “And welcome back.”
“That…” I said distinctly, although my voice was croaky from panting and I had to swallow to wet my throat, “…was an orgasm. Or maybe a multiple. But definitely, foreplay. Middle play. End play.” He grinned, and I finished up with, “I’m actually all played out.”
“I figured.”
“But later. Maybe soon—”
He shook his head. “No.” His voice was firm. “That’s the extent of our lovemaking.”
I blinked at him, trying to work that out. Then I swallowed and tried to find more saliva. “I’m all for Ladies First, but I’ve never—”
“Exactly,” he said, as if I’d just proven his point. “You’ve been with men who are only interested in their own pleasure.”
“And you’re not?”
“Of course I am. But I have self-control.”
Because?
“Okay, some self-control,” he went on. “I had planned on no kissing and we went a bit further than that…but I’m stopping now. Definitely no penetrative sex.”
I shook my head. “Are you some sort of high achiever—?”
“And besides, I’ve only just finished a gallstone episode.”
I raised both eyebrows and he stopped fussing with my hair to look at me.
“Alright,” he admitted, “It’s not about the gallstones.”
“What is it about exactly?”
He looked uncomfortable, and glanced down at my body which was rapidly cooling. My nipples, which had almost exploded with tightness when I’d come, were stiffening again, and given another ten minutes I’d be uncomfortably cold. So I needed to move this indoors, but when his hand followed his gaze and slid easily onto my stomach to glide up and cup a breast, I stopped thinking about that.
Instead I watched the absorption in his eyes as he touched my skin, exploring the ribs that were so close to the surface when I was all sprawled out with my arms over my head. Then the fleshiness of my breasts, and how they moved under his caresses.
When he gently pinched a nipple, I made a sound that had him instantly glancing at my face.
“Did that hurt?”
“No it was good. I’m sure a lot of things will be good. We’ve only just started.”
He gazed steadily into my eyes, as if he was searching for something, then he said, “If I asked you to stop tempting me into sex, would you do that? For me? I seriously want to abstain.”
I stared back at him, trying to work out what was going on, but I couldn’t.
So he said, “I want you to be completely honest with me. Right in this moment, do you want me inside you? Or do you want to curl up and go to sleep?”
I stared back at him, and it was actually hard to move past the issue of You made me come, so now it’s your turn to listen to my own needs. But I was honestly so depleted by that orgasm, I really did want to stop.
So I nodded. “Okay. But will you sleep in the bed with me?”
“I think I’d be safer on the lounge.”
“It’s really uncomfortable,” I lied, and then above my head, under my hair where he couldn’t see them, I crossed my fingers. “And I promise not to tempt you in the night.”
He frowned at me for almost a full minute, and I waited, looking up at him hopefully. At last he said begrudgingly, “Alright. I’ll try.”
“Squee!” I wiggled a happy dance on my back, because that was all the energy I had, then I rolled away and only got as far as my knees before I teetered and had to put both hands back down on the ground.
“Wowsers.” My legs were seriously wobbly.
He scrambled to his feet and helped me, then when I was standing, I leant against him, and his arms seemed to naturally enfold me, which was so warm and delicious I wanted to purr.
“This isn’t what I had in mind,” he said wryly.
“Your fault,” I said against his sweater, then I angled my cheek to rub against it because it was so soft. “My legs won’t support me.”
“I did that?” I could hear the smile in his voice.
“Yes you did.” I tilted my head back to look up at him. “Oh giver of the magnificent orgasm. Only you have the power. The special one. The chosen one. The bestower of pleasure that—”
“Enough,” he said laughing, and I felt it vibrating through his chest. But when he stopped, I realized his hands were restless on my shoulders, sliding into my hair and down my back and it was making me melty again. I started to purr out loud.
His hands stilled. “We’re going inside the house now. And you’re going to bed. And I’m going to have a cold shower.”
“Only if you kiss me goodnight.”
“Hmmm.” He eased away from me to retrieve my wrap which he helped me into. I checked that my phone was still in the pocket, then he grasped one of my hands and we set off for the house.
I walked beside him, smiling like a loon, because my heart was happy. I didn’t care about tomorrow. I was having too much fun right now. So I started humming
Teddy Bear’s Picnic again and he pulled me into his side, kissing my forehead as we walked.
And it was good.
I felt warm and sated and so completely unlike how I normally felt after sex, because I felt closer to Max than I had at the start. Sex with a man usually left me with an awkward ‘how do I get away politely’ vibe, because there was no reason to stay. In fact, I was almost repelled from the bed when it was done. There was no cuddling, caressing, and definitely no talking.
So this was all new, and probably normal. I’d never stopped to analyze how other people conducted their relationships, but it made sense that sex should make you feel closer. Otherwise, it was just a bodily function like having a crap in the morning.
“So…dinner?” he said, and I made an awkward segue from thinking about the toilet to realizing I was hungry.
“What’s on offer?” I asked cheekily, and he smiled to himself as he stepped over the fallen branches in our path. He wasn’t replying so I added, “I’m quite partial to gnawing on the odd bit of iron bar when I can find it.”
“Yeah…I’d thought that’s where you were going with that.” He opened the yard gate. Then he stood back and let me step through before he came after me and closed it. Old fashioned manners. I certainly hadn’t seen a lot of that in the twenty-something hipsters I’d been fucking.
“Very manly,” I said, approvingly.
“You like that?” He took my hand again and led me up to the back door. “You’re easily pleased.” Then he let me in and I led the way to the kitchen.
“Dinner,” I demanded, and sat at the table so I could watch him working. “And you being who you are, I will expect something spectacular. Maybe even epic.”
“No pressure then.” He opened my pantry and harrumphed about the contents, then he went to the fridge and pulled open the door, only to shake his head in exasperation. “What do you normally eat?”
“Leftovers from the shop.”
“You’re kidding me.” He glanced at me over a broad shoulder, and I had to refocus on his face because I’d been checking out his ass in those deliciously snug jeans.
Husband Rollover (Husband Series Book 4) Page 10