All Tied Up

by Alison Kent

  He took hold of the lapels and parted the edges, baring her skin as he lowered his head. His mouth covered hers. His chest pressed against the skin he’d bared and he was wet and he was warm and he was delicious, rubbing, as he was, dragging the edges of her parted top over her nipples.

  The friction of the thin layer of flannel, now wet and no barrier between his eyes and her skin, between his skin and her skin, between his wide concave palms and her skin, or his tongue, which had moved from her mouth to flick at the tips of her breasts, his lips, which drew both nipple and pajama top into his mouth, where the material scratched and his tongue soothed…

  Oh, good orgasmic grief. She couldn’t even finish her original thought.

  But she didn’t care. Splayed the way she was against the wall, her head thrown back, her hands flat on the tiles beside her hips, her legs barely managing to keep her upright, because now Leo had lowered himself to his knees and had raised the hem of her top, giving himself permission to drink the water from the skin of her belly.

  His hands nearly circled her rib cage completely and his tongue pressed to her navel, then lower, as his palms slid down her sides. His fingers curled around the elastic waistband of her pajama bottoms and slid them down. She wasn’t sure if she’d had on panties, but now she was bare to her knees. And her brain still refused to work.

  And really, she should have cared, but she couldn’t, not when Leo’s fingers had moved between her legs and spread open her sex so he could find her clit with his tongue. Which he did. Oh, he did.

  She moaned, her hands holding his head, because she was afraid she would fall, the way she was standing, moving up on her toes, and down, opening her knees when Leo slid the length of a finger through her folds and found the entrance he’d been seeking.

  His finger was thick, the second was thicker, his tongue was a butterfly flitting, tickling, tiny soft touches that weren’t enough. She reached down with two fingers, pulled back her own skin to expose the tight center of nerves in ardent need of a harder, faster pressing stroke to match the motion of his fingers as he turned her inside out.

  “Oh, Leo,” she moaned. “You’re making me come.” And she did, in sharp spasms that tightened her around his fingers. He stayed where he was until she finished, and even then she had to hook her fingers over his shoulder and pull him to his feet.

  He kissed her immediately and she tasted herself, tasted the water, tasted him. She placed her hands flat on his chest, slid her palms down his abdomen, reaching into the thatch of hair and below, taking the weight of his balls in one hand, the thick shaft of his penis in the other.

  He was tall and she was short. But who cared about physics and logistics and geometry when he was full and throbbing and ready and she couldn’t wait for that first filling thrust? She lifted a leg. He lifted his mouth.

  “Macy, I need a condom.”

  She grimaced. “Where? I’ll get it.”

  “No. I will. In my things.”

  “Wait.” She stopped him from reaching for the stall door. “This is Lauren’s bathroom. Look in the medicine cabinet.”

  He paused for only a second, and she could only imagine him wondering if he’d find condoms in the bathroom off her rooms. But he didn’t ask, so she didn’t answer. She only waited, nerves raw and on end, as he stepped from the shower, leaving the water to beat her into a mindless mess.

  He stepped back into the shower already sheathed. And he wasted no time, his hand sliding over her hips, his fingers digging into the backs of her thighs as he lifted her off her feet. He pinned her to the wall with the strength of one arm. His other hand made sure she was ready.

  She wanted to laugh and tell him not to waste his time, but his fingers played her so nicely that she let him have his way. And then he buried his face in the crook of her neck, buried his cock in her warmth.

  She pulled in a whimpering breath and groaned.

  He shuddered to a stop. “Did I hurt you?”

  “Not yet. I’ll let you know when you get it right.”

  He shoved himself deeper. She gouged encouraging fingers into his taut backside and he moved just so, his hips rotating, grinding, using the motion to press the swollen base of his shaft high and hard to her center.

  She gasped.

  And he asked, “Am I hurting you yet?”

  “Oh, yeah,” she managed to answer, feeling the stretch of her body as she adjusted to accommodate the invasion of the beast.

  Animal lust. That’s all this was. A raw primal mating. Bodies doing what bodies for eons had done.

  Steam swirled in wet ribbons. Water spilled in a fall of erogenous heat. Soapsuds slipped from Leo’s neck and shoulders and seeped between the press of chest to chest.

  Macy moved and rubbed, swept up in the sensation of skin on skin, of skin in skin, of hands and fingers exploring, of mouths mimicking the fiery passion of spearing thrusts and reluctant retreat.

  She couldn’t get enough of Leo, couldn’t feel parts she wanted to feel without releasing parts she wanted to hold for as long as he was willing. She wanted to feel Leo come. To take in his shudder and know his vulnerability.

  But then he slowed his movements and stopped, hitching her legs higher around his waist and holding her impaled and suspended. His legs were shaking, his muscles beneath her drawn and taut.

  She hated the thought of having to move. “If I’m too heavy, you can let me down.”

  “Such a generous offer.”

  She adjusted an arm, flexed a hip, caught him deep inside and groaned. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you…finish.”

  “Oh. I intend to finish.” He rolled his hips one way, then the other. “But I should warn you.”

  “Warn me?” He moved again, both hands holding her backside as he slid nearly all the way out. She shuddered. “Warn me about what?”

  He eased his way back in. “I never come first.”

  She rolled her eyes, in part because of his arrogant claim, primarily because of the pleasure rendering her incapable of conscious thought. Barely cognizant as he bit and nipped at her collarbone, she rushed to admit, “You won’t be coming first this time, either.”

  His mouth found hers again. “I want you to come. Again. Trust me. I’ll get mine.”

  Who was she to argue with his logic? She lost herself in the act, the mating of tongues and of intimate flesh. Her breathing once again grew shallow; her blood rushed with the powerful beat of her heart.

  Then she came, the release drawing forth a loud cry. Her neck arched, her head bumped the tiled wall. And what she felt next—the tension in Leo’s body, the loss of the control he’d kept close and tight…the sensation blew her away.

  He buried his face in her neck and let go.

  Macy closed her eyes and held on for the ride.

  WHAT IN THE WORLD had she just done?

  Macy stood in the shower stall, empty now but for her soggy pajamas and her even soggier mind. After an awkward few minutes of sharing soap and shampoo while neither one spoke, Leo had left her to sort out her thoughts and her clothes.

  But all she could think about was how she longed to feel him again deep inside her body.

  She wanted to better experience the fit of their tangled limbs and the friction of skin on skin. What she didn’t want was to open the door and find him gone, but she braced herself for the probability.

  She cut off the water, pushed open the stall door and grabbed a towel for her hair. Bending at the waist, she twisted the towel into a turban and straightened, stepping out of the shower…

  …and in range of Leo’s reach. She was wet and naked and he hadn’t even bothered with a towel while he’d been waiting, and modesty was obviously no issue because he was once more boldly erect.

  Oh, but he was beautifully made. And she shivered, both from the chill and from the fever in his eyes. A fever of desire and expectation and the desperation to continue what they’d begun.

  His impatience burned with a heat Macy knew well. He too
k her by the wrist, pulled her from the bathroom directly to bed. Nothing about his actions was hesitant. Neither did he ask. What he did was pull off the towel and replace it with his hands, holding her head for his mouth.

  His kiss was the kiss of a starving man deprived. His tongue mated with hers, giving her the pleasure she wanted to take. With her hands caught between their bodies, she measured the beat of his heart with her palm. His breathing came hard and heavy, and warmed her skin, still cool from the shower and the water in her hair.

  His mouth on hers, Leo reached for her hand and drew her fingers down his body to wrap around his erection. He kept his hand over hers, used the fluid he released to ease the stroke as he thrust in and out of her hold.

  Macy wanted to lift her leg, make him ease the ache between her thighs. So she moved her hand, moved her mouth and shoved him down to the edge of the bed. All he did was raise a brow and sit right where she wanted him, his weight braced on his elbows as he spread his legs and leaned back.

  She couldn’t help but lick her lips. He was a delicious feast and hers to devour. She knelt between his legs, her chill forgotten once she encountered the intimate heat of his body. With her hands spreading his thighs wide-open, she moved in and nuzzled the sac beneath his full penis.

  Leo shuddered. She lifted her eyes, locked her gaze with his and took him in her mouth. His nostrils flared. He pulsed against her tongue. Macy smiled, moving her lips in a stroke to imitate the earlier motion of her hand.

  She watched his face, judged her success by the fire in his eyes, his grimace, the rapid rise and fall of his chest. With the palm of one hand pressed flat to his belly above his shaft, her thumb beneath the solid base, she wrapped her other hand around his length, leaving her lips free to work the swollen head.

  She sucked hard, drawing her tongue up the underside and her upper lip over the top. She repeated the process, stroking, sucking, using the moisture of her mouth and his release of clear fluid, until Leo tossed his head back and roared.

  He scooted back out of her reach. She followed him up onto the bed, crawling over his body, shuddering as his erection strained against her belly. She lifted her hips to take him. She was so very ready to take him.

  But he hooked his leg over her hips and flipped her onto her back. He silenced her “Oomph” with another demanding kiss.

  Macy tried to work her legs free, but he’d caught her fast. She shivered and submitted, unbearably aroused by her inability to move. Leo lifted his hips, but only enough to slip one hand down her belly and into the crevice at the apex of her thighs.

  She whimpered at his touch, at the contact with her clit. But she was captured and couldn’t move to show him how to use his thumb to pull back that hood of skin and how to take a fingertip and lightly brush the edges of that knot of nerves and how to open her wide with the rest of his hand.

  And if he didn’t stop what he was doing she was going to come all over the place when she wanted to come to the stroke of his tongue while his fingers played intimately with her sex.

  She pulled her mouth from beneath his to tell him that it was her turn, that she was not going to take this bossy business lying down. Though she was, and she was loving it. But she didn’t get out a word because Leo used the break from her mouth to order, “Turn over.”

  She had no spine, so she flipped as he’d ordered. And when he tucked a pillow beneath her belly, hiking her backside up into the air, she didn’t even think to say no.

  He knelt behind her, and Macy anchored her fingers over the side of the mattress, aroused and certain Leo had caught the scent. With her heartbeat rattling her whole chest, from her ribs to her throat, Macy waited.

  Leo settled his weight, pressed his thighs to hers and leaned forward. She held her breath. He placed a hand in the small of her back…placed the dual vibrating heads of Lauren’s back massager right below.

  The sensation sent Macy’s eyes rolling up into her head. She audibly groaned into the sheet as the rumble of the massager shook her bones. Oh, she couldn’t believe this was happening. Sex had never been this way before.

  Leo moved his hand to the base of her neck, her nape a starting point for his erotic massage. He drew the massager slowly down her spine. Macy melted into the mattress, her cheek, her shoulders, her breasts humming, her belly pressed into the pillow and humming, too.

  But it was her backside, raised and waiting, that took the full brunt of the electrically charged shudder, Leo now sweeping the massage heads over her derriere and down one thigh, to the pit of her knee, the sole of her foot, her toes.

  He reversed direction on the other leg, and once he reached the crease where thigh met buttock, he lowered the speed to a tempered buzz, settled the head on her bottom and left it there.

  Macy tensed, waited, totally disconnected from everything but the heat of Leo’s body behind her and the unbearable edge of excitement cutting off her ability to breathe.

  Leo shifted, his erection probing between her legs, where a finger spread her wetness. She was beyond aroused. She ached, she burned, she hurt with the pleasure of his touch.

  And then Leo inserted a finger and her world came to an end. It was too much to take, the vibrations skittering over her network of nerves and now the invasion, the finger he used to explore, pressing downward, pulling up and into her center.

  She couldn’t stand the wait, the anticipation, her body shifting and swelling and wanting. And then he moved his finger to her clit, moved the massager down so that his touch was an extension. And just when she wasn’t sure she’d live to find her release, he slid his sheathed cock into her body.

  The sound she unleashed was wild and untamed. Her body burned with Leo’s every thrust. She felt the vibrations on her backside, in his finger and his cock. It was all too much and she let go, crying out as she came, shuddering over and over again until she knew nothing but the way he filled her.

  Leo tossed the appliance aside, grabbed Macy by both hips and drove into her, his rhythm fast and furious, and then he peaked, shuddering, growling from a place so deep Macy felt the hum where he joined her body.

  Once finished, he didn’t move or withdraw, almost as if the connection they’d shared was far too painful to break. But that was her imagination talking. Or a case of wishful thinking.

  This was all about sex. It had to be. There was no other sane way to look at what they’d done. They hadn’t talked about a relationship. They hadn’t even talked about attraction. They’d just screwed each other’s brains out.

  Physically, Macy was replete. But her soul remained disappointingly unfulfilled.

  8

  LEO WASN’T REALLY a party guy. He attended functions. Business dinners. Fund-raisers. Receptions. Soirees. Rarely did he make an appearance without an agenda. Never did he volunteer his involvement without the guarantee of a return.

  And then came Macy’s monthly game night. Which proved the folly of active participation. Look what that lapse had gotten him. Moving from a perfectly suitable extended-stay suite into the midst of madness.

  He’d never been late to court in his life. But yesterday morning he’d barely managed to drop his butt in his seat before the bailiff called, “All rise.”

  He’d spent as much of the past two days at the office as he could find work to fill. With his current caseload, if he’d wanted, he could’ve spent the night. Sleeping on the sofa in his office wouldn’t be anything new. And there was the law firm’s efficiency apartment to consider.

  But last night, he’d returned home, wanting simply to hear Macy breathe. He didn’t want to talk. He didn’t want to listen. He’d only briefly thought about wanting to get her naked. But then he’d seen her sleeping, and acting on the thought hadn’t even been a consideration.

  The door to her rooms had stood open. In the four days he’d lived there, he hadn’t once ventured to her private corner of the loft. Personal space and privacy had been part of their agreement. She’d been the first to break the bargain when she�
�d interrupted his shower.

  If he’d found her in bed wearing lace and black silk, sleeping on satin sheets, or if her blankets had been kicked to the bottom of the bed and she’d been lying there wearing nothing but her wild-child tattoo, he’d have been more inclined to strip out of his clothes.

  As it was, he could only stand and stare.

  The room was aglow in nightlights. One plugged into every outlet. Others burning low in the trio of lamps marking off three corners of her room. Each lamp spun on a solid base, its shade casting liquid shadows of sea life from the floor up the walls to the ceiling.

  The ceiling was what struck the blow to knock him off balance. The blue-and-green-toned mural stretched corner to corner, with every undersea creature imaginable looking down on Macy as she slept. This was a child’s room, not one where a man would make love to a woman.

  Yet the woman curled in the center of the queen-size bed could flash him a look with her whiskey-wise eyes and he’d have a hard-on to hammer nails. Either she was a witch or he was sick. And since he didn’t like either option, he’d turned and left the room.

  He’d fared no better at his end of the loft. He’d been too wound up for sleep, and standing in the shower underneath the warm spray, all he could think about was taking her up against the wall.

  He didn’t know if he’d ever had sex explode the way it had with Macy. He’d had it in the heat and the spur of the moment, unexpected, hot and fast. But never had it been that blast of fire and passion.

  Her body, when bared, had been as slim as he’d expected, but feminine and belonging to a woman, not a child. As much as he enjoyed indulging his fetish for the rich and the lush, Macy had offered him more. Her hunger and her honesty had no parallel in his experience. And that had the whole of his gut tied up in knots.

  So now, twenty-four hours later, he found himself at Lauren and Anton’s housewarming, no closer to figuring out where he and Macy stood or where they were going…if anywhere.