She opened her eyes and gazed up at him. His hair was tousled and unruly, but complimented the wild desire in his eyes. She touched his face and he turned his head to kiss her hand. His tongue circled her palm, raising gooseflesh all over her body. His fingers teased her nipple, and then trailed down her belly to precisely where she longed for them to be. He circled her clit a couple of times, the intense sensations making her quiver. Then, he slipped two fingers inside her, all the way in, and rested the heel of his palm on her clit. As he moved his fingers in and out, his palm rubbed her just right, the powerful sensations forcing the breath right from her lungs.
"Oh my God," she whispered. "Oh my God, Jason . . . ." She clawed at the sheet beneath her.
"You like that?" He kissed her neck and whispered in her ear. "Do you like it when I touch you? Do you like it when I touch you inside?" His words came out as half whisper, half groan.
"I love it," she moaned. He bent his fingers slightly inside of her then, his knuckles and fingertips touching her in places she had never before known, unleashing powerful sensations that rattled through her with enough intensity to rival a full-on climax. She pushed against his hand, overwhelmed, consumed. She couldn't think. Couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe.
She moved her hand and as she did, she brushed his cock. He sucked in a breath and shivered as she stroked him through the condom. He shut his eyes, his jaw slack as he tried to breathe, but after a moment, he looked at her with a hungry, insatiable desire in his eyes, a desire that mirrored her own.
He kissed her as their hands moved in unison, drawing moans of pleasure from each other. They devoured each other, breathing each other in, consuming each other's feverish hunger.
"I can't get enough of you," he said. "My God, I just can't get enough."
"I'm yours for the taking," she murmured. If he kept doing what he was doing with his hand, she'd be his devoted slave forever. She writhed against his palm, squeezing his fingers inside her. A moan escaped her lips. "I want you inside me," she pleaded. " Now."
He exhaled hard against her lips. "Not yet. Not until I feel you come again." She tightened her grip on him and he gasped. She grinned. "What if I make you come first?"
He released a heavy groan, and for a moment she wondered if she was about to do just that. He shuddered, and then looked at her.
"Then," he said, swallowing hard. "I'll just have to keep doing this." He quickened the movement of his hand, sending lightning bolts through her. "And make you come over, and over, and over, until I'm ready to come again." She could barely breathe as his fingers continued moving in and out of her in time with the gentle but insistent circling of his palm on her clit.
"Oh God," she whispered, closing her eyes. "Oh God . . . ." Before she could draw another breath, an incredible orgasm surged within her, sending icy-hot shockwaves through her entire body. She moaned, she cried out, she didn't know what she said or if she said anything at all, she couldn't think.
Just as she reached the peak of her orgasm, his hand abruptly stopped, his fingers withdrawing, but before she had a chance to protest, he was over her, and then inside her, riding her, hard and fast, drawing her climax out until she saw white, until she saw nothing, until she was aware of nothing but the pure ecstasy he unleashed within her. She grabbed his shoulders and held on as he plunged into her. She struggled to catch her breath as each deep stroke he took drove the air right out of her lungs. And still, the orgasm didn't relent.
"God, yes, I love feeling you come," he growled through clenched teeth. "Oh God, you're amazing." His arms quivered beneath him as he fucked her hard and fast.
"Jason, oh my God, Jason," was all she could say when she could draw breath again. Her body trembled, even as her climax subsided, and each stroke he took sent delicious waves of pleasure through her.
He slid his arms under her back, gripping her shoulders from beneath as she rolled her hips and squeezed him in time with his powerful thrusts. With a deep groan, he threw his head back. She ran her fingertips up his spine, sending a shiver through him. He drew a ragged breath and closed his eyes as she dug her nails in then, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to cause him to take a sharp hiss of breath and drive himself even deeper.
She grinned at him. "You like that?"
" Oh yes, I love it," he panted. He arched his back, pushing himself into her. His shoulders trembled. His breath caught, his eyes closed, and his jaw clenched. He moved slower now, but thrust hard and deep. His every muscle quivered. All at once he tightened his grip on her shoulders and took one hard, deep stroke into her. He exhaled in a roar of pleasure and his eyes flew open. He threw his head back as his body shook and shuddered against her.
She kept moving her hips and squeezing him, drawing his climax out as he had done for her. He gasped with each roll of her hips, each time she tightened around him, until he finally collapsed against her, his forehead dipping against her collarbone. They held each other, their bodies shaking, their skin slick with sweat. She ran her fingers through his sweaty hair.
He looked up and kissed her lightly. "I just can't get enough of you," he said, still breathless.
"Likewise," she murmured. And it was true. No one had ever done this to her. No one had ever touched her like he did, had ever been so hungry for her. And the orgasms he so easily brought out of her—she shivered.
He touched her face. "You okay?"
She smiled. "Better than I've been in a long time."
He returned the smile. They separated and he moved away long enough to get rid of the condom. Then he rolled onto his back and pulled her into his arms. Her eyes grew heavy as the adrenaline wore off and sleepiness moved back in. She didn't even know what time it was—the sky outside was still completely dark—and she didn't care.
Warm and blissfully satisfied beside him, Simone fell asleep again.
Chapter Ten
Simone awoke to sun pouring in through the windows. Out of habit, she winced in anticipation of the relentless stabbing pain of a hangover, but it didn't come. She looked at Jason, still sleeping soundly beside her, and last night came back to her. A shiver ran through her at the memory of the breathtaking climaxes he'd brought out of her. Even now, hours later, tingling aftershocks still murmured deep within her. She couldn't remember the last time a man had done that to her. And she remembered it all with perfect, crystal clarity, instead of in the hazy alcohol-veiled way she usually remembered sex, if she remembered it at all. She smiled. No men. Anne-Marie's words suddenly echoed in her mind, making her scowl with frustration.
She watched Jason sleep, forcing back the guilt that rose within her. No, not now, not yet. I'll deal with all of that later. For now . . . .
Jason Connor was exquisite, even now, lying on his stomach, his face half-hidden by the pillow, his entire body still except for the gentle rise and fall of his back with each breath. A hint of five o'clock shadow dusted his jaw and his hair was as unruly as it was the day she met him. As his eyes fluttered in his sleep, she realized he had longer eyelashes than any man had any business having. Even in sleep, exhausted and disheveled from an amazing night of sex, he was a beautiful contradiction of unabashed sexiness, gentle roughness, and boyish innocence.
Her gaze drifted to his shoulders. His tattoos were completely exposed now, and like Jason himself, were rugged and beautiful. The ink on his bicep was an intricate tribal design, leading into meticulously detailed and colorful Celtic knot-work and geometric patterns that stretched across his upper back. She wanted to touch them, to trace her fingers along their edges. She wanted to knead the sculpted muscles beneath them. She—
The muscles in his back rippled and he rolled onto his side. His eyes opened, and he smiled sleepily at her. "So it wasn't a dream," he whispered.
"No, definitely not."
"Thank God." He grinned, but then his expression shifted and his cheeks darkened a little. "I'm really not that kind of guy usually. But, honestly, I just couldn't resist you."
"
A willing, horny woman, what's not to love?" Simone! Way to sound like a complete whore.
He let his thumb drift over the side of her wrist, raising goosebumps all over her.
"No, it's not like that at all. Really."
"What was it then?"
He watched his fingers run up and down her arm, his brow furrowing as if he were searching for the words. When he finally met her eyes again, he whispered, "What can I say? You're very attractive, Allyson. Very attractive. I just, I don't usually get carried away like that."
She shrugged. "I don't know, I kind of liked it when you got carried away." His lips parted and his eyebrows jumped. Then he cleared his throat and offered a self-conscious smile. "Okay, so did I. But, you know what I mean."
"Yes, I do." She put her hand on top of his. "You don't have to explain yourself, Jason. I enjoyed it."
"Good. So did I." He touched her face. "I hope you'll at least stay for breakfast."
No, no, you can't stay. Don't get wrapped up in this. Don't do it. Guilt tried to force its way to the surface, but she smiled it back. "Of course," she said. "It would be rude not to."
He laughed and propped himself up on his elbow. He kissed her lightly.
"Perhaps you'd join me for a shower?"
"Of course." She rose from the bed, pausing to wince at the soreness in her hips. He watched her.
"I didn't hurt you, I hope?" His expression was simultaneously concerned and mischievous.
"Nothing a little stretching won't take care of." Oh, cute, Simone. Really cute. He laughed with a devilish twinkle in his eyes, but said nothing. He rubbed his arm and twisted a crick out of his back.
She supposed they both should have known they couldn't get in the shower together and keep their hands off each other. She didn't see Jason grab the condom on the way out of the bedroom, but she did see him set it on the window sill in the shower. Great minds think alike, don't they?
They had scarcely stepped under the water before he took her in his arms. The hot water felt wonderful on her skin, but not nearly as luxurious as Jason's hands all over her.
His mouth engulfed hers, his lips and tongue doing to her mouth what they had done all over her body the night before. She tingled at the memory; his tongue was the stuff legends were made of.
Simone broke the kiss and looked into his eyes. Crystalline drops of water rolled down his unshaven face like sweat. She imagined catching them with her tongue, tasting the saltiness of his skin, and unconsciously swept her tongue across the bottoms of her teeth. He exhaled heavily as she did, licking his lips just before he kissed her again.
Jason ached to be inside her again. God in heaven, he'd never wanted a woman like this. And the more he tasted her, touched her, the more he needed her. She pressed her weight against him, urging him to take a step back. As he did, the sudden chill of the tile wall took his breath away. He gasped and tried to step away from it, but her hands held his shoulders and kept him there.
Then, she dropped to her knees, taking him into her mouth before he could react. Her tongue swirled around his cock, sending overwhelming sensations all through his body.
"Oh my God, Allyson," he murmured. He looked down, watching his cock disappear into her mouth, then reappear slowly, before she swallowed him again. He ran his fingers through her soaked hair. Her lips tightened around him, then loosened, then tightened again, each squeeze and release triggering a moan or a gasp. Holy hell, she's—
Her hand joined her mouth, stroking up and down his shaft as her lips and tongue worked the head of his cock. Her hand squeezed and released in time with her mouth. A moment later, her other hand wrapped around just past her lips. Both hands and her mouth moved in harmony, but with slightly different movements, enveloping his cock in a melee of sensations like nothing he'd ever felt before. His hands clawed at the wet tile behind him. He arched his back and groaned with each stroke. She moved faster and faster, taking him deep into her mouth, her hands sliding along his shaft and sending electric shocks of pleasure all through his trembling body. If not for the wall behind him, he was sure he'd collapse. Each stroke inched him ever closer to climaxing. A powerful orgasm boiled within him. Not yet, not yet. He wasn't ready to come, not yet. He took her wrists and she stopped, looking up at him, a wicked grin on her face. He whispered breathlessly, "Come up here."
She swept her tongue over his cock one last time, then stood and leaned in to kiss him, but he took her shoulders and turned her toward the wall.
Simone yelped in surprise as her breasts touched the icy tile. A second later, his hands were over them and the warmth of his body engulfed the rest of her as he held her to the wall. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him grab the condom.
"I want to be inside you," he growled into her ear, his unshaven jaw deliciously coarse against her skin. The wrapper tore. "I want you so bad it hurts." He nudged her legs apart with his knee, his hands sliding down her sides to her hips. He pushed into her from behind, moving slowly, deliberately, so she felt every inch of him. She exhaled in time with his sensuous motion.
Buried to the hilt, he stopped. His entire body quivered, his breath ragged on her wet skin. She tightened her muscles around him, and he released a throaty, primal growl. She rolled her hips, pulling him in even farther. They moved together, with slow, luxurious strokes as he filled her completely. His every moan, every catch of his breath beside her ear, ignited more passion within her.
Suddenly he tightened his grip on her hips and thrust as deeply within her as he could. His hand slid around her waist until his fingers found her clit. She gasped as his fingertip drew lazy, gentle circles around it. He moved within her again, slowly, so slowly, agonizingly slowly. Her legs shook. Waves of ecstasy—fire and ice, pain and pleasure—surged through her.
He growled in her ear. "Tell me what you want."
She struggled to form the words. "I want you . . . to . . . faster . . . ." She finally managed, pushing herself against his hand, rolling her hips in time with his. A powerful orgasm hung within her, on the brink, ready to overtake her.
"Tell me more," he whispered.
"I want you," she said again. "Faster . . . harder . . . ."
"Do what faster and harder?"
"Fuck me! Fuck . . . me . . . harder . . . ." He needed no further bidding; he grabbed her hips and fucked her, driving himself into her as hard as he could, fucking her so deep she swore he was going to hit
her throat. Within seconds, she came, delicious spasms wracking her body as he continued to slam his cock deep inside her.
A moment later, he cried out and shuddered against her. His fingers dug into her hips and a long moan brushed past her ear. His entire body tensed, trembled, then relaxed. He rested his forehead on her shoulder and held her while they both caught their breath.
When at last they could both breathe, he turned her around and pulled her into his arms beneath the hot, rushing water.
Chapter Eleven
On the way to the kitchen from Jason's bedroom, a framed picture in the hallway caught Simone's eye. She stopped. It was an incredible black and white image of a nude woman posing on a black couch. Her soft, supple curves contrasted sharply with horizontal stripes of shadow, as if illuminated only by light pouring through venetian blinds. Everything—the angle of her arms, the placement of her hands to emphasize the swoop of her hip, the blinds' shadows framing her erect nipples—was perfect. Deliberate. Calculated. Nothing accidental. She didn't imagine there was much Jason did with a female body that was accidental.
Beside the print hung another nude, this one in color, with seashells covering the nipples of another perfectly posed model.
"Jason," she said. He was walking ahead of her and turned around. She gestured at one of the prints. "I didn't think you photographed people."
"Not often, no," he said, his cheeks coloring. "These are, I . . . ." He hesitated before gesturing dismissively. "It's just a hobby."
"They're stunning."
He blinked. "Yo
u . . . like them?"
"I'm no prude, Jason."
He laughed. "I can't argue with that, can I?" Pausing, he cleared his throat. "I just—" He pursed his lips as he looked at the prints. "I don't usually show these to people."
"But they're in your hallway, for anyone to see."
He shrugged. "Not many people come down this hallway." Their loss. "Your work is . . . amazing. Really."
"Thank you." He looked at the pictures for a moment, a distant expression in his eyes. His gaze flicked from the prints, to Simone, then back to the prints. "I appreciate a beautiful female figure."
Simone's cheeks burned as she looked back at the woman shadowed by blinds.
They stood in silence for a long time. Jason pretended to look at the picture, but it was really Allyson's reflection in the glass that held his attention. There was an odd expression on her face, as if she had something to say, but couldn't find the words. Taking a breath, she opened her mouth to speak, but quickly snapped her jaw shut and looked away.
He turned to her. "What is it?"
"Nothing," she said quickly, shifting her weight. But there was a tension in the air, something unspoken.
"Breakfast?" he said, hoping to lighten the mood.
She smiled, but the tension lingered. "Of course."
Simone followed him into the kitchen, but her mind stayed with the photographs on the wall. The women looked so perfect, so . . . comfortable. She spent her entire career—and most of her personal life these days—in front of a camera, but she'd never posed nude. Never. Even the most damning photos of her, the ones that had blown her affairs open and destroyed her marriage, weren't fully nude, and they certainly weren't deliberately posed.
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