Ever? What did that mean?
While she attempted to think about it, he took her mouth in a long kiss, then rose above her, braced his weight on his hands. He began to rock with slow but steady thrusts “Just tell me…if you want me to stop,” he said, his chest heaving.
She tried to coordinate to the rhythm of his pumping hips, but this was the worst bed she had ever lain on in her life and a cramp gripped her left hip joint and a demanding voice screamed inside her head: Joanna, he has someone. She calls him all the time on his cell phone. This is just fun and games for him.
His breath bellowed. “Can you come, baby?”
But she had too many other things on her mind. "I can't...I don't...I can't," she managed between panting breaths. But even as she said it, something was beginning to work down there and if she could just shift into the right position or if he would just find the right place...She squirmed and tried to adjust herself. "Dalton, can—"
"Oh, Jesus, I can't..."
His body went rigid, he heaved a great groan, then a deep grunt and collapsed on top of her.
Crap! Was it over?
She lay beneath him, his breath gusting in her ear, staring past the lift and fall of his shoulder at the still blades of the fan attached to the ceiling.
Oh, Joanna, Joanna, Joanna, her Good Girl voice scolded. Now you've gone and done it.
He pushed himself to her side and flopped onto his back, his breath still coming in gasps. "My fault...you didn't...make it." His head turned toward her, his hair standing in little peaks. "Did you?"
She winced mentally and grabbed for the covers, dragging the quilt to her chin. She cut him a glance from the corner of her eye. "I, uh, I don't think so."
His eyes grew wide and round. "You don't know?"
Now she was upset. Hot tears rushed to her eyes. "I told you I wasn't lucky at this."
And she was tired. All she wanted to do was sleep, even if this was the worst damned bed she had ever known. "I just want to go to sleep."
A growl came from his side of the bed. He sat up and threw back the covers, got to his feet and left the room. To deal with the condom, she presumed. Maybe he wouldn't come back. Maybe he would go to one of the other beds.
* * *
Dalton stamped up the hall to the bathroom. Five goddamn bedrooms in this fuckin' house and only one fuckin' bathroom clear at the end of the fuckin' hall. After the low light in the bedroom, the bright light over the sink in the bathroom nearly blinded him. He tossed the rubber, then turned on the tap water. It came out in a weak, cloudy stream. Shit. The water in the fuckin' Arabian Desert had been better than the goddamn hard water in West Texas. He waited for the warm water that had to travel all the way from the water heater on the porch off the kitchen, then began to wash himself.
Fuck a running bear. What a freakin' disaster. He felt like a chickenshit. He had gone off, out of control, like a goddamn teenager. Was that because of his age? Was it the booze? Earlier, something had told him he should have laid off the liquor tonight. He should have listened.
Stone sober, he probably wouldn't have even tried to get Joanna Walsh into bed. All of the sane and sensible reasons he should have kept his dick in his pants crept in, including a decent streak that didn't always raise its head when it came to women. He couldn't keep from thinking that most of the women he fucked knew the score, but Joanna Walsh, he now realized, hadn't even been to the ballgame. He glanced up at his reflection in the vanity mirror and saw guilt.
He stared at himself a few beats, then gave up. Hell, it was too late now. A lousy fuck was one thing a man couldn't undo. On a sigh, he dried himself with a towel that felt like sandpaper against his pitiful dick. The hard water did that to towels, he remembered.
He quickstepped back down the hall, freezing his naked ass off. Entering the bedroom, he saw Joanna buried up to her eyebrows by covers. He slid between the sheets, reached up and clicked off the lamp, plunging the room into stygian darkness. "You want to go to sleep? Tell you what. Let's just do that."
With any luck, he could get a couple of hours of shut-eye before daylight.
"It's so dark," she said softly. "Do, uh, you always keep the shades closed?"
Out of habit, he had drawn the shades when he got up this morning. "Are you afraid of the dark?"
"No," she mumbled. "But what if I have to get up?"
"We'll turn on the light."
"Okay." She sighed and gave him her back, her butt pressed against his hip.
In a double bed, such closeness to her body couldn't be avoided. She felt warm and soft and comfortable, one of the things he loved most about sleeping with a woman. He couldn't resist turning to his side, sliding his arm around her midsection and pulling her close. "Go to sleep," he said, molding their bodies together, spoonlike.
In no time he heard her steady breathing. Jesus Christ, had she passed out?
Her words from out on the patio filtered through his thoughts. What I am mostly is a tired girl. I got up at four this morning. He didn't doubt either statement. He had seen that she was a dedicated hard worker, willing to hold up her end of a task. A good helpmate and companion.
Whatever.
He, too, closed his eyes and left the world.
* * *
Joanna came to semiconsciousness in a pit of darkness. She was naked and freezing. Hissing snakes squirmed and coiled around her ankles, their eyes red as blood. Their black tongues flicked like tiny sharp pitchforks. And she was alone and defenseless. She fought, kicking at them, swinging her fists. Her own outcry awakened her.
Then, through the dark veil in her brain, a voice. “Joanna. Joanna. Wake up, baby.”
She whimpered. Gentle hands touched her body. A whispery male voice murmured into her ear, soothing and calming. "Joanna. Joanna....Hey, it's okay, baby....You're okay. You’re dreaming….I'm here."
Her eyelids fluttered open for a few seconds. She saw nothing in the darkness, but she recognized the voice and relished the warmth of a body. Dalton.
She only vaguely remembered all that had happened between them in the previous hours, but in the here and now, even in her muzzy-headed state, she wanted...no, needed this contact. She turned to the voice and pressed herself closer to his warm, furry flesh. "I'm cold," she said.
"You're uncovered, darlin'." She felt him and the whole bed shift, then as his legs tangled with hers, her chilled shoulders were wrapped in the warmth of thick covers, and strong arms embraced her and held her in a cocoon of heat. And all the while, his soft, raspy voice cooed to her.
As if it were alive, his erection prodded her belly. As dark and intimate as the sanctum in which she lay, an arcane craving came over her. Giving in to it, making no attempt to understand it, she pressed her face into that hot, pungent crevice where his arm joined his shoulder, deeply inhaled his intimate scent undiluted by body wash or cologne. And on that primal level, she found what she had forever unwittingly sought, however awkward and stumbling her quest had been. Floating in half sleep, disoriented, she began to stroke his penis with her fingers and place open-mouth kisses on his chest and nipples.
His hands and body stilled. "Joanna?" His voice came as a husky rumble in the darkness. "You're not still dreaming, are you?"
"No," she mumbled and continued to press her mouth and body to his.
Whoa! Confusion zigzagged through Dalton's brain. He had already written this night off as a mistake and a royal FUBAR. Hell, she had rejected him. He hadn't even been able to get her off. Now he couldn't believe what was going on. Now she had to be almost sober.
And now she wanted him?
He damn sure wanted her, evidenced by his dick being hard as a crowbar again.
She wanted him. That realization stuck un-erasable in his mind and heart. He could find no reason strong enough to make him resist the urges charging through him, not even her friendship with his mother. With no further argument with himself, he burrowed his fingers into her hair, gripped it by the roots and covered her m
outh with his.
She kissed back, her tongue probing tentatively, but that was all the encouragement he needed. He drew her tongue into his mouth and it played with his. He released her hair and skimmed his hands over her firm breasts, brushed her taut nipples with his thumbs, slid his palm down her slender rib cage and over her honed hip. Jesus, her body was fine. And it was all real. A joy for his hands to touch.
Her hands were busy, too. They were all over him—his chest and torso, his butt. When they stopped short of where he wanted them, he took charge and molded her fingers around his screaming cock. "Just hold me for a minute," he whispered, his breath ragged in his own ears. And when she did, then followed with trailing her finger up the back side and around the rim, heat and need surged through his veins. He barely kept from pumping within her grip. He couldn't keep from groaning.
Then they were kissing again, wild and desperate, their mouths melded as if they were glued. And their hands were moving again, traveling without discretion, where they would under the thick covers. To gently push her knees apart seemed only natural.
When he threw back the covers and moved over her and her knees opened wider with no urging from him, that, too, seemed natural. He trailed his fingers up the soft skin of her inner thigh and found paradise, all wet and hot, swollen and waiting. And, thank you, Jesus, unwaxed.
"Push up to me, baby," he murmured and she complied. "That's it," he said, sliding two fingers into her.
"Oh..."
He recognized a sound of pleasure when he heard one. "Good?"
She answered with a little mew.
He was able to see her only in silhouette, but he could hear her shuddery breath, feel her soft hands on his ribs and ass. He hung over her, kneeling between her thighs, supporting his weight on one hand. This time, he could last a while. And he intended to. After the disaster of earlier, this was about her, not him.
He dragged her moisture from inside and rubbed her layers in slow, sensuous sweeps, pushed his fingers back inside her, bent down and took her breast into his mouth, sucking until her nipple became like a little pebble in his mouth and her sweet little cunt squeezed his fingers. He curled those fingers and rhythmically rubbed inside her until her back arched and she came, gasping and clutching at him.
He bent to her mouth, but she came up and met him halfway. "So sweet," he murmured, and meant it.
He willed himself to take his time, brushing her cheek, her nose, her eyelids with his lips, then kissing her again and giving her his tongue and taking hers. And all the while her breath came in urgent little pants and whimpers, and he reveled in the sounds of pleasure and need.
He gently urged her back and trailed his mouth and tongue over the slope of her breasts, suckling and teasing her nipples. Her whole body responded. Her belly lifted to him and more little sighs and moans filled his ears. "You like that?"
"Yes."
"It gets better."
On a hum, he moved on down, sucking little bits of the supple skin of her midriff into his mouth, lapping her silky belly with his tongue.
Then his mouth was within an inch of his destination. Her pubic hair tickled his nose.
Her hips shifted, her hands gripped his shoulders. She tried to scuttle away, "Dalton, don’t...I haven’t showered…."
He grasped her hips and held her in place. “You think I’m worried about that?”
“Dalton, wait…I’ve never…no one’s ever…”
“Didn’t you want to?”
“I—I don’t know…”
He turned his attention to her silky nest of curls—he couldn’t remember the last time he had been with a woman who didn’t shave or wax herself. The fact that she didn’t turned him on. He liked women the way God made them. “Let me show you how good it can be.”
He buried his face in her sex and nuzzled, separated her drenched folds with his tongue. The musky scent of her struck his most primal place, a scent he felt as if he had always known. He breathed it in, drifting blindly in a dark, ethereal world of touch and smell. Unadulterated bliss curled through him like smoke.
“Lift your knees, baby,” he mumbled. She obeyed. He slid his hands under her bottom and lifted her hips for better access. He wanted to hear her scream, wanted to know he could please her that much, wanted her to know an orgasm as she had never known it before. He trailed his tongue the length of her slit, barely touched her clit, then rimmed the swollen little kernel of flesh with his tongue. She whined like a puppy, sounds that traveled to his core. Her hips squirmed, begging for more. His dick got harder.
He flicked his tongue over her drenched petals, licked into her thoroughly. “Jesus God, you’re sweet,” he mumbled, then closed his mouth over her clit and sucked it full into his mouth.
She came hard, sobbing out, her body jerking to him. She panted his name over and over. Her hands grabbed his head and her pussy pushed hard against his face.
He trailed his tongue down until it reached her opening, still clenching in climax and eager for more. He circled it with the tip of his tongue, covered it with his mouth and pushed his tongue into her, feeling her convulse against it. He flicked his tongue in and out, suckled her, driving her orgasm on and on.
Her fingers dug into his shoulders. “Oh!...Oh, Dalton… Her hips tried to move, but he held her fast while he feasted wildly in a delicious tongue-fuck. “Oh!...Dalton, oh…I need—please...Oh…"
He knew her need. But he wasn't ready to bring this to its inevitable conclusion until she’d had all she could take.
Joanna grabbed the stiles of the cast-iron headboard, her head pressed into the pillow. Spasms rippled through her in waves. Sparkles skittered behind her eyes. Sounds she didn't even recognize burst from her throat, but she didn't care. Nothing, nothing mattered but this instant and his mouth and tongue. She came and came, until ecstasy turned to agony and tears began to trail past her temples.
Desperation had replaced caution and pride and a deep place within her hungered for more than his tongue. Her sex was on fire with want to be filled. Earlier, when he had been inside her, she had wasted the moment. She couldn't let that happen again. She fought her way to a sitting position and reached for him, tears leaking from her eyes. "Dalton... Dalton...I want…I want…"
He crawled up her body, hovering over her. “Say it, Joanna. Tell me what you want.”
As hot as she was, she couldn’t make herself say it. “Please,” she breathed.
He guided himself to her with one hand and pushed into her. She gasped as his flesh stretched her and joined with hers. He was so big. And so deep. His mouth took hers in a fierce kiss and she kissed him back just as fiercely.
“I’ve never been so damn hard,” he choked out.
He began to move inside her in a steady rhythm. She clawed at his back, breathing his name, wrapped her leg around his hip.
He hooked his forearms behind her knees, pushed them high and picked up the pace. Then he was pounding fast and hard, nailing her hips to the mattress. Another orgasm, different and even more powerful, was building deep in her sex. She waited anxiously for it, fearing it wouldn’t happen. It struck her suddenly, jolting her and tearing through her. Her vaginal muscles began to convulse against him. She dug her nails into his pumping hips and hung on as another orgasm crashed through her.
His whole body hardened. He strained and grunted, pumped once, twice and she felt when he let go. His arms gave way and he crumpled against her body.
Beneath him, her breath continued to hitch. "Oh, God....Oh, God…Dalton..."
He moved his weight off of her and fell to her side. "Jesus God...that was...freakin' fantastic." He pulled her close to him. "Come love me....You can't tear me up like that...then leave me...out in the cold."
They lay there, both drenched in sweat, his flaccid penis soft and wet against her belly, their breathing audible in the dark silence. As the chilly temperature cooled their heated bodies, their breathing evened and his strength returned. He caught her thigh and pulled it
across his wet genitals, then tucked her head against his shoulder. "Don't tell me you didn't make it that time. I know damn well you made it. And it was more than once, too."
"I made it," she said softly, and placed a kiss on his chest.
He snugged her closer yet and kissed the top of her head. "You okay?"
She sniffled. "I'm all sticky and wet."
Wet? Dalton’s eyelids popped open. Hell, yes, she was sticky and wet, and so was he. Fuck! He hadn't worn a rubber. Jesus Christ! He hadn't shot his wad inside a woman without a rubber in more years than he could count. "Just a minute," he said, his thoughts racing.
Well, shit, she had to be on the pill. Why wouldn't she insist he use a rubber if she weren't? He hoped she was on the pill, because he had been so damn horny and hot, the possibility of pregnancy hadn't even entered his head. When was the last time that had happened? He sat up and swung his feet to the floor, stood and switched on the lamp. "Don't move. I'll be right back."
Squinting against the sudden light, Joanna lay there uncovered, his semen slick on her thighs, drying on her belly. The room was cold as ice, but she wasn't. He soon returned with towels and a washcloth and sat down on the edge of the bed. He pushed her legs apart and began to wash her with a warm washcloth.
Embarrassed, she reached for the washcloth. "I can do it."
He moved it out of her reach. "So can I." He gave her a wink. "I always clean up after myself.
He dropped the washcloth on the floor, picked up the towel and dried her. "You're beautiful," he said. He pushed her knees apart and stared down at her.
“Dalton, you’re embarrassing me.”
“Why? You don’t like for me to look at you.”
She lifted a shoulder in a shrug. “No one ever has.”
He leaned and kissed her stomach.
He tapped her bottom with his fingers. "Lift up." She braced her heels on the mattress and levered her bottom. "This'll do 'til morning." He arranged the towel over the wet spot underneath her. He covered her up to her chin and kissed her, then walked around the bed and crawled between the covers. Reaching up and switching off the light, he again plunged the room into total blackness. He turned on his side and pulled her against his body. "Shit, it's cold. Keep me warm."
9 Ways to Fall in Love Page 131