by Melissa Blue
The anticipation was going to kill her. She could practically hear her frantic heartbeat. Ian felt thick and hot as he soaked his dick with her arousal, but then he pressed down into her and she knew just how hot and thick he was. He stretched her wide and deep in that first thrust. So full of him but not enough. She moaned, clenching her sex to keep him there. His next thrust was harder, and he groaned.
Not enough, her mind screamed. She needed harder, dirtier and something just shy of vulgar. Teasing words tickled the back of her throat, and she had no urge to swallow them. Where was the man who said fuck and meant it? That man got her off. That man didn't treat her like glass. And those words would give her what she needed—to feel alive, to feel like he craved her.
“That's still not fucking me.”
His fingers buried in her hips and he thrust harder, deeper and faster. Over and over. The rhythmic pounding undid her. Heat flashed through her body and had her biting into the cover. That decadent scent reminded her of sandalwood, potent and somehow masculine. The scent transformed into a taste and filled her mouth. Musky. Man. Him. Her stomach tightened and she curled into the orgasm, slamming her ass back against him as she clenched hard and long around him.
He stopped and rode out the climax with her, his breath rasping out but as soon as she relaxed, he pulled her back, gliding her sex over his cock. In and out. Pounding. Pounding. Every time she came, he'd stop, revel in it and start again. Deep and hard.
Her legs didn't hang off the edge of the bed at some point. They'd screwed their way to the middle. If they kept going they might end up on the floor, on the other side. She now understood what he meant about breaking furniture kind of fucking. If the bed wasn't as sturdy, they'd have collapsed it by now. Yes, he rocked his cock into her but when Jocelyn could feel her legs, she rocked back. She lost track of time and the count of orgasms.
Finally, she whimpered, “Wait,” and laid on her stomach, not able to hold herself up on her arms anymore.
“Tapping out,” he murmured, but she could hear the laugh.
“No.” She closed her eyes and sprawled on the bed.
Ian wrapped his arm around the bend in her right knee and pushed it up. He rested his body over hers and then bore down into her. Slowly. So achingly slow, he stroked her to yet another climax. This time he tensed, letting out a coarse groan before he shuddered behind her. All of his frame relaxed into hers, weighing her down into the mattress.
Jocelyn didn't care. Was sort of surprised she could put together any thoughts that weren't eiadih agdiap blgft. He dug his hands beneath her and rolled onto his back. His chest rose and fell on a fast pace. His heart labored beneath her ear, but all she could do was lay there.
“Your bun fell loose,” he said.
“Hmm.”
“I like your hair down.”
“Hmm.”
He chuckled. “Have I killed you dead?”
“Brraiiinnnsss.”
“Fucking music to my ears.”
It took a bit of effort but she rolled off him. He was right. She'd lost her hair band and her hair was damp, tangled and looked like only God knew what. They were both drenched in sweat. If she let it dry without rinsing off first, she'd smell dipped in sex, dipped in him. Jocelyn couldn't have been more pleased.
Ian chuckled as he did away with the condom, tying the end and tossing it in the small trashcan near the nightstand. “Already thinking about what's next?”
Her gaze slid down and her breath caught. Thick, hard and long. Again. She hadn't recovered fully. He met her shocked stare with another smirk. Oh, miles and miles of bronzed, sculpted skin. Old scars. Tanned nipples. Male perfection.
“Yes,” she said, breathless.
“You're trying to kill me. I'm fragile, Joce,” he said with a tired laugh. “Tomorrow?”
Greedily her eyes raked over his bronzed skin. Miles of muscles, too. Just beautiful. And she had an all access pass. Jocelyn was bound to hurt herself trying to get her fill.
“If you say so.” She swallowed but her throat was Sahara dry.
Swinging her legs off the edge of the bed, she found enough of her clothes to get dressed. Her panties had disappeared to the depths of the unknown. Ian stayed quiet, but she refused to look at him. Things might be awkward enough as is.
But after slipping into her shoes, she chanced a glance back at the bed. Bare-assed and asleep. He hadn't bothered to pull the cover over himself. She narrowed her gaze. No. He wasn't pretending. Now that she'd stopped stumbling around the room with her back to him, she could hear the light snores and see his chest rising and falling. Sleep. He looked harmless. Like any man. Not at all like someone who just tipped her sexual world upside down.
She almost stepped forward to drag the cover over him, but that was flirting with trouble. Hell, they hadn't even kissed. Standing there, watching him while she was fully clothed, Jocelyn still felt stripped bare like a part of her had devolved to grunts and yearnings. Not sure how to deal with that, she left his opulent apartment and didn't look back.
CHAPTER FOUR
Ian braced himself before stepping into Jocelyn's office the next morning. He'd mentally prepared for awkwardness, guilt or embarrassment. Numerous other emotions that would show last night had changed how they'd react to each other while at work. He feared she would change her mind.
Feeling half drugged, he'd awoken in the middle of the night, sucked in a breath and smelled their sex scent. He smelled of her—a sweet musk that seemed to have bite and still be completely feminine. A fragrance he hadn't wanted to shower off anytime soon.
A soft growl had emitted from his throat and he'd reached for the other side of the bed, expecting to find a warm, soft woman who was more than ready to be fucked again. He'd roll over and drag her beneath him for another round. Instead, he'd grasped at air. Curses filled his empty apartment because she'd gone. Troublesome, because he'd yet to eradicate the need for the taste of her
Pounding into her until his leg muscles screamed in agony hadn't been enough. Her come slicking his dick hadn't even touched the hunger. He wanted to know why she'd crept out of his apartment while he slept. He needed to see her in order to read whatever emotions flitted across her lovely face.
Apparently he wasn't going to get that answer just yet. He scowled at the empty office. Her degrees still lined the walls. There was the Christmas picture of her mum, da, sister and her wearing hideous matching Christmas sweaters. Tucked in the corner sat her water bottle reserves. Even Garfield still sat atop the file cabinet, but no forgotten cup of coffee cluttered her desk.
At 8:30 a.m. this was where he could always find her. Where in the hell was she?
“Oh, there you are.” Her husky voice slid down his spine straight to his dick.
He faced her, gaze watchful. Her teeth sank into a corner of her mouth, reminding him of everything they'd done and all that they hadn't yet. She grasped a cup of coffee with one hand and the other rested on the doorjamb. She wore something frilly that complimented the spring weather, and her heels had floppy bows in the back.
None of that hardened his cock to an uncomfortable girth. Today, for the first time, the chocolate-brown strands of her hair framed her heart-shaped face. The glint in her eye told him exactly what he needed to know. She wore it that way to drive him crazy. There was something else there too, in her gaze, but he didn't know what it was. Didn't matter. Lust, he knew. And, no, he wasn't close to being done with her yet.
“Looking for me?” he asked.
“I need a rush job on the ritual ax. Security is here to set up the display.”
He nodded. “Just one more thing to be done and it's all yours.”
“Okay. I've got a meeting in five minutes. I'll check on you when it's over.”
“Aye.” And then for the second time in twenty-four hours she was gone. His gaze narrowed at the complete lack of emotion.
“Curious creature,” he murmured.
Her cool as a fan reaction to him this morni
ng didn't jive with the woman he'd gotten to know over the past few weeks. Aloof, flippant and Jocelyn didn't exactly go hand in hand. Not even a joke was uttered. He didn't know how to respond to that and it threw him off-kilter.
Ian usually knew how to react to a woman he'd slept with who suddenly donned a new personality. Usually he dealt with it by not caring as long as emotions didn't start cropping up that complicated things more than they needed to be. Sex could just be sex. Many people liked it better when it was more. Not him. And, yet...he rolled his shoulders and scowled at the empty doorway.
Maybe not having sex with coworkers had left him out of practice dealing with this sort of thing. Didn't matter, because she'd worn her hair down.
For him.
*****
“Hungry?” Ian threw over his shoulder as he crossed the borrowed flat's threshold.
The jacket was the first to go, then the tie and finally, his shoes and shirt. He glanced back and caught the widening of her eyes and the nervous swallow. Ah. She hadn't really seen him naked the day before. He'd spent most of his time behind her. His mouth quirked into a smile, but he didn't miss a step and guided them to the kitchen.
“Can't eat. Not—” She cleared her throat and he glanced at her again.
He laughed, opened the refrigerator. “And why not?”
“You would make me say it, wouldn't you?”
“I must know everything.”
“You're full of it,” she said.
“I am.”
He sniffed at the Chinese food and it passed the test. He grabbed a bottle of water and got her one too. Filling a cup with ice, he leaned back against the counter and ate for a moment. She'd taken off the blazer that spruced up the dress and heels. Still neatly covered, but what he could see was more than enough to tantalize him. Her nipples strained against the silk dress despite the warmth of his flat. Her reaction had everything to do with him and that satisfied him more. She must have tired of her hair getting in the way, because she'd tamed it back into a ponytail.
“Eating and then being contorted into a pretzel is not conductive to the digestive system.” She fidgeted under his intent stare.
“Ach. You're using big words on me. Take the water just in case you get thirsty.” He dug deeper into the container but there wasn't much left to wolf down. He flicked his wrist, rolling his watch face up and tried to calculate delivery service of pizza or anything. “I'm starving.”
“You've got nothing but bachelor food in there, I'm guessing.”
He motioned to the refrigerator and shook the take-out box so everything fell into one corner.
She opened the refrigerator. “How long has this pizza been in here?”
“Long enough to turn into a science project.” He laughed at the look she gave him. “What? I've been busy at the museum. Rarely here. Matter of fact, this is the most I've spent in the flat between yesterday and right now, outside of sleeping.”
“You've got eggs. Sandwich meat. Stinky cheese.” She huffed. “You can make something.”
“If I wanted to cook. This,” he shook the empty carton, “didn't even need to be warmed.”
She blinked at him and closed the door. He tossed the thin cardboard box in the trash, trying not to laugh. From his teen years on, his 'fridge never looked any different. Darwinism at its best. Order out or you'd have to scrounge around in the refrigerator for something that looked less likely to kill you if ingested. Not always that way. Not when his mum bothered to be around, but habits were hard to break. He wasn't a teen anymore though, and if Jocelyn would be here a lot...
Bugger those kind of thoughts. “You're disgusted with me,” he murmured.
“That's a strong word.” She kept fidgeting but ended up picking up the water bottle he set aside for her. “Baffled is probably closer to the truth. Hire someone to buy you groceries and to clean out your 'fridge if you don't have the time or the give-a-shit. I know you're only here a few more weeks, but I don't know.” She shrugged. “I guess I'd make a home wherever that happens to be.”
Pensive, he tried to suss out any ulterior meaning to her words but found none. He didn't treat the women he fucked with disrespect, but he didn't share this kind of easy intimacy with them either. She managed to bring warmth and a comfortable familiarity wherever she went.
Everything within him wanted to drive the point home that they weren't going to be more than what they already were. Just because they'd talk outside of the bedroom didn't mean they were building a foundation of something more. Pointing it out would make him a dobber. So, he didn't, but it didn't dim the unease. Do what you do best. He grunted at the silent reminder, picked up the cup of ice and water bottle.
She followed him without another word. By the time they'd made it to the room, she'd scattered her clothes in his flat. He put down the water and cup on the sideboard next to the bed, unbuckled his belt, dropped out of his pants and then underwear.
“Any other fantasies you want to tell me before we get started?” he asked.
“Actually, I'm drawing a blank at the moment.”
Since her gaze hadn't left his dick, he could only smile. “That's all right. I've got something in mind. Get on the bed.”
“Arse up?” she said with a teasing glint in her eyes.
His dick jerked at the eager tone. “Not right now. Lay down. Relax.”
She climbed on the bed and tossed off some pillows in her way. “I never understood the need for this many pillows.”
“They could come in handy later.”
She stilled and met his gaze. “I'm starting to think you say those things to screw with my head.”
“Does it work?”
“Yes.”
His only reply was to grab the cup of ice and shake a cube into his mouth. Her gaze narrowed on his face and if she had intended to relax, the action was lost the moment she tensed and sat up from the pillows. Her brown skin glowed from the sudden flush. She was beautiful and lush. He crunched down on the cube and climbed over her onto the bed. Without having to say a word, she spread her legs wider and raised her hands above her head to give him better access to all of her.
Had Joce done this before? The thought twisted in his gut and Ian had to breathe through his nose for a moment to get past the unexpected rush of jealousy. His hands fisted thinking about another man doing this with her, for her. And Jocelyn loving it. He sucked in more air around the ice, letting it cool the sudden temper.
Her breath caught. “What?”
Ian dipped his head instead of answering and outlined her areola with the ice. The effect was instantaneous. The dark-tipped nub hardened and she moaned, back arching up, thrusting her breasts closer. He cupped the soft globes and brought them together and teased her with his tongue until the heat of his mouth and her, melted the ice.
Jocelyn's thighs squeezed his and the jealousy fled. Didn't matter who came before him, she was with him like this now. She was doing these things with him.
The melted ice dripped down over her breasts and onto the comforter. Wet and full, her tits practically begged him to bend down and do more. He began at the curve of her left breast and licked away all the remnants of water. She whimpered, but guided his head to any place he missed. He would have smiled at her but she was touching him, moaning for him. Almost enough to do him in.
When he'd lapped all of the left over water, Ian pulled back to admire his handy work. Her nipples glistened in the soft light and every pant made them jiggle just so. Her eyelids were low, her skin flushed and she was open wide for him...Ian was on the brink of coming seeing her like that. To get his head back in the game, he reached for the cup and took in another piece of ice. Time to really undo her.
Except, Jocelyn's gaze lit with some secret thought and a seductive smile tugged at her lips. “I have a fantasy now.”
He bit down on the ice hard enough to hurt as her hand crept down her torso, lower, lower until she cupped her mound. Her knuckles brushed his cock hanging heavy between th
em. His teeth clenched around the cube while she petted her pussy. Pre-come dripped from the tip of his dick and moistened her hand. She moaned, stopped and ran her tongue over her knuckles to taste him then reached back down to touch herself.
All he could do was watch and try to breathe, because she started with one finger and then worked herself up to two, sliding in and over every contour of her sex. He shifted to end the torture of her hand bumping his dick whenever she pulled out far enough. Suddenly, her hand stilled and she met his gaze for a moment and then looked away.
“What?” he bit out.
She worried her lip and her breathing sped up. “In my fantasy, when I do this...he's—”
“What?” The word rasped from his throat.
“I'm sucking him,” she whispered.
Ian shut his eyes. He thought her fucking innocent and inexperienced.
“Never mind,” she added in a hurried manner when he didn't answer right away.
“Just give me a moment. You caught me off guard.”
He had to get control or her fantasy would end as soon as it started. Killing time, he adjusted the pillows around her head. She watched him, teeth leaving crescent shapes in her bottom lip. He knew what she needed and Jocelyn didn't question him as he positioned her. He sat back on his haunches at her head, straddling one of the pillows so he'd be within licking and sucking reach.
Still, he hesitated, because this was not how he imagined the night would play out. No complaints, but her shyly, whispered words kept raking over some raw part of him. It left him feeling off-kilter again and out of control. She wanted him in bed, because that's what he could provide. He would as soon as—
She didn't wait for him to make up his mind, but turned her head and licked the tip of his cock. Again, pre-come rose to the slit and they both moaned when she lapped it up. He bent forward, buried his fingers in the soft strands of her hair and held her still. Taking himself in his hand, he traced her waiting mouth, teasing her—fuck, himself—with the action.