by Toni Blake
“Yeah. That,” he said, voice ragged with passion.
After which their mouths came back together, kissing feverishly, and Rachel followed the urge to ease back against his sturdy body, now feeling his kiss…everywhere.
Mike pulled her to him and his hands roamed her back, her ass. She felt that big bulge of his hardening against her thigh and hungered for it more than she’d known she could. Part of her couldn’t believe she was standing here making out with Mike Romo, but most of her couldn’t think straight enough to stop. She had been aching for him—she couldn’t deny that. And maybe he was right, about them getting it out of their systems. As more and more pleasure echoed through her body, it seemed as good a reason as any to barrel full steam ahead.
And then he slowed down. Just a little. He lifted both hands to her face and kissed her more deeply, his tongue snaking between her lips. She met it with her own and surged with moisture below.
Mmm, God, yes. Now this was kissing. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had kissed her so thoughtfully, so thoroughly. She hadn’t imagined it being like this with Mike Romo at all. The harder, more urgent kissing—yeah, that was what she’d expected, and she’d been perfectly turned on by it. But this—this she felt in her chest, in the small of her back; it stretched down her inner thighs.
When he finally ended the kissing, they were both breathing audibly. He drew his hands from her face—one he molded to her hip, and with the other he skimmed his knuckles down over her neck, her chest, just barely grazing her breast. It was that last part that made her flinch, her very womb contracting, as she let out a hot little gasp.
Their eyes met and her lips trembled. Mike let out a small moan in response. Then he eased his palm gently onto her breast, using his thumb to stroke across the tip.
She had to shut her eyes, lean her head back, as she drew air deeply into her lungs. She felt him watching her, seeing her passion, and she didn’t mind. Suddenly, something about the way he looked at her made her feel beautiful.
When she didn’t object, he lifted his other hand, as well, and began slowly kneading both her breasts. It was all she could do to keep standing, the pleasure rushing through her like a river.
Then her hands were on his face—she never made the conscious decision to touch him there, it just happened—and she was kissing him again, indulging in more slow, deliciously deep kisses that made her feel a little like she was drowning, in him. Finally, she was touching that dark stubble on that strong jaw, running her fingertips over that warm, olive skin. And sinking, sinking, deeper with each passing second.
Until finally he released her breasts from his grasp and began to unbutton her blouse. Wow. She stopped kissing to murmur against his mouth, “So we’re gonna do this—here?” Up to now it was just making out, touching. But this changed things.
“Unless you stop me,” he said, low, deep.
She didn’t want to stop, but she couldn’t help thinking about consequences. “What if Elmer comes back and opens the door?”
“Not likely. Everybody’s gone,” he said, his lips but an inch from hers. Her arms twined around his neck now, and he continued undoing her buttons.
“I’m…surprised you’d do this, have sex on school premises,” she whispered raggedly. “Isn’t there some kind of law against that?”
“Not that I know of.” Her shirt was entirely unbuttoned now, and he eased his arms around her waist underneath to run his palms over the flesh of her lower back.
She caught her breath, trembled slightly, and bit her lip. “But it still seems…you know, bad. Naughty.”
That’s when his hands dropped to her ass, squeezing her tight against the hardness between his legs. “Just because I’m a good cop,” he said, “doesn’t mean I’m not a bad boy.”
“Ohhh,” she moaned as the sensation dug deeper into her, and she heard herself rasp, “I think you’re on the verge of making me a bad girl.”
“Good,” he whispered. Then he kissed her again, and as he grew still stiffer against her, she followed the urge to show him what a bad girl she could be—she reached down between them to press her hand over the stone-like column in his jeans.
“Jesus God,” he muttered, his eyes dropping shut, and she liked feeling that little bit of sexual power over him. He wasn’t the only one here with the ability to deliver pleasure.
They kissed some more and Rachel forgot the rest of the world existed, though when Mike reached for the button on her jeans, it brought home for her once more exactly what was about to happen here. She pulled back and said, breathily, “I want to be clear, though—this doesn’t mean I like you.”
His answer came just as raspy. “Good—it doesn’t mean I like you, either. Now shut up and kiss me.”
Take all myself.
William Shakespeare, Romeo & Juliet
Five
Rachel wasn’t the sort of woman who went around having sex with every hot guy who crossed her path. With no real aspirations toward marriage, she had, of course, learned to appreciate sex for the pure pleasure of it, and she’d had her share of lovers, but…this was the first time she’d ever done it with a guy she barely knew. Or didn’t like. Which felt a little weird.
But she couldn’t stop. Because it felt too good. And she reminded herself again that he was right. This would get it out of their systems. So that made it okay. And when he parted her blouse, feasted his eyes on her, and moaned at the sight—she nearly melted in his arms, still loving how desirable he made her feel.
Though she wished she’d worn a prettier bra—but she’d gone with plain white, smooth cup, because of the white blouse. And, ugh, she knew she had on plain cotton panties, too, having been in a hurry to go someplace she’d never dreamed anyone would see them. “I usually wear better underwear,” she heard herself say.
“I don’t care about your underwear, honey,” he breathed low and hot against her neck, starting to kiss her there. “I just care about what’s under it.”
Rachel sucked in her breath and kissed him some more, luxuriating in the feel of his large hands on her body as he started easing down her jeans. Thoughts of stopping seemed long in the past, so she bit her lip, glanced down at the waistband around her thighs, and kicked off her pumps to make things easier before stepping free of the denim.
Losing the heels instantly made her aware of how tall he was, over six feet, almost towering over her now—it was the first time she’d been her real height in his presence. As he pushed the blouse from her shoulders, she reached for the buttons on his shirt, suddenly desperate to see his chest, stomach.
She wasn’t disappointed—he had just the right amount of muscle to make her want to run her hands over him, and she let her fingertips play lightly at the smattering of hair on his chest. Then she moved on, downward—to his belt, to the zipper. She liked that he sucked in his breath as she lowered it. She liked the sensation behind her fingers—it felt as if he was about to burst from the jeans whether she undid the zipper or not.
His breath came harder then, more urgent, and she whispered, “Condom?”
“Unh,” he said, and she guessed that meant yes when he withdrew his touch to reach in his back pocket, flipping open a well-worn leather wallet.
A second later, he was yanking at her panties, murmuring, “Take these off.”
After finally getting her arms free from her blouse, she complied, pushing them down, starting to feel very naked in front of him—in a sexy way.
The next thing she knew, he was taking her hand, pulling her with him as he sank to the floor. He sat, his back against the cinderblock wall, and she straddled his lap. Every part of her body pulsed with nervousness and need. But mostly need. So much that she boldly curled both hands into his underwear—typical white from what she could see—and tugged downward. He lifted slightly to help her and his erection came free, making her let out a ragged breath. He was big. And rock hard. Her whole being went liquid with lust.
Still breathing rapidly, he
ripped open the foil packet and Rachel didn’t hesitate to pluck the condom from it. Her chest contracted as she sheathed him. Oh God, oh God. Finally, she would have him. And she knew it hadn’t exactly been a long wait, but it felt that way. It felt, strangely, as if she’d been waiting a lifetime for this.
Mike’s hands were on her ass then, molding, lifting her, until she was balanced atop him. He didn’t push her down, though—he left that part to her. In response, Rachel bit her lower lip, pressed her palms to his chest, then sank slowly, tightly onto him.
They both groaned with the lengthy descent, the deep immersion that seemed to fill her entire body. “Oh God,” she gasped, her head falling back as the pleasure encased her.
When she looked at him again, his eyes were barely open—he appeared lost in passion. His hands remained on her hips, caressing, his fingertips digging in lightly, in a way she felt at her very core. It made her begin to move on him, gentle but potent, still adjusting to having him inside.
“Good?” he asked.
She simply gave a nod, let out a breath. Very good.
He squeezed her ass then, and began to thrust up into her, still slow, deep.
As Rachel swayed in a grinding, primitive dance that came not from thought or decision but simply as a physical response, she realized she’d thought for a few minutes there that this part would go faster, harder, be more urgent. But she loved that it was slower, that they were soaking up every nuance of every sensation together. Flattening her palms to his chest again, she leaned in to kiss him some more. Mmm, God, yes, she liked kissing him. She thought he liked kissing her, too—his tongue licked at hers in the same hot, lingering rhythm they’d found below.
As they exchanged more sensual tongue kisses, he found the clasp at the center of her bra and released it. And then his warm hands were easing over her needy breasts, massaging deeply, making them both groan. Her scalp tingled, the sensation skittering all the way down her spine.
When he bent to take one nipple in his mouth, she shuddered as the pleasure echoed through her, arching her back to give him easier access. Oh God, this was just what she needed. Even if she couldn’t believe where they were or who she was with. Then she glimpsed the words GO BULLDOGS, painted in red stenciled letters above his head. How surreal. Who’d have dreamed she’d ever find such pleasure within the walls of Destiny High, and mmm, this was phenomenally better than making out in Elmer’s broom closet.
She glanced down to watch him—his tongue now twirling around her distended nipple, the sensation shooting straight to the juncture of her thighs—to find him gazing up at her, those chocolaty eyes devouring her soul as much as his mouth devoured her breast.
He shifted to the other then, enrapturing her further. Had sex ever been this good before—this hot, this perfect? Their eyes continued to meet as he suckled her, and it made her move against him with more intensity. Oh, mmm, yes. She bit her lip as sweet release gathered within her, like a million heated cells rushing to her very center, and she rode him harder, getting lost in it, starting to moan. “Oh—oh God,” she purred as the orgasm hit, hard, like a tidal wave, rocking her body, jolting it almost electrically as she sobbed her ecstasy through the concession stand.
As she rode it out, undulating deeply, breath coming thready, Mike’s arms closed tight around her waist, bolstering her, and when she opened her eyes to see him peering intently up at her, it stretched out the climax a few beats longer.
She gazed down at him, a little stunned to realize what she’d just done, was still doing, with Mike Romo. But it didn’t make her want to stop—no way. Instead, it made her feel strangely giddy inside, and supremely naughty. She bit her lip again and gave him a sensuous smile. “Is this how you punish all criminals? Because if it is, I might have to break some more laws.”
He shook his head, flashing a sexy grin. “No—but it might be how I show you outrageous.”
She giggled softly, remembering their yelling match at the Dew Drop Inn. Looking back, now it just seemed like foreplay. “This is pretty outrageous, all right.”
Mike had never imagined he’d want to be trapped in a small room with a Farris, but this changed that. And he supposed it had been coming, like a storm, since they’d met. And this would do what he’d told her—get it out of their systems. But he was in no hurry for that at the moment, saw no reason in the world to rush through this, so he planned on taking his time.
He took his time thrusting slowly up into her moist warmth some more. He took his time leaning back in to sensually curl his tongue up over the hard bead of her perfect pink nipple. And then the other. Again. Again. She began to rock her body on his once more, so now he took his time watching the way she moved, undulating like a slow, rhythmic wave. God, she was a sensual woman—going slow like him, not afraid to show him her pleasure even beneath the bright fluorescent lights of the concession stand. Damn, he was already about to explode, and just watching her got him hotter and hotter.
“I loved seeing you come,” he said. “I want to make you come again.”
She sucked in her breath, a pretty little sound that tightened his cock further inside her. Shit, he hoped he could hold it together for as long as he wanted.
“Just keep doing what you’re doing,” she whispered.
So he did. He drove his erection up into her, slow, thorough. He caressed her breasts, kissed them, licked them. He listened to more hot, sexy sounds echoing from her throat—and then he splayed his hands across her round ass, squeezing in rhythm with her movements.
“Oh God,” she said, then, “oh God!” Despite that they were both working toward it, he got the idea it caught her off guard, this second orgasm, as it seemed to hit her in a more jagged way, jerking her body, making her breath come in short, tight gasps. He held her tight, taking deep pleasure in her loss of control, soaking in her every hot movement and sound.
And then she collapsed against him, her breasts against his chest, her head on his shoulder, her warm breath on his neck. He held her tight, cradling her against him, sensing what he’d wrung out of her that time. Damn—intense. Enough that he whispered, “You okay?”
He felt her nod, then a moment later, she managed, “Just…feel limp. Weak.”
He grinned over at her, teased her. “You’re not gonna quit on me, are ya?”
Head still resting on his shoulder, she peered up at him, touched her tongue to her upper lip. “No way.”
Thank God. Because he wanted more of her. In other ways. In every way.
“Can you stand up?” he asked.
She lifted her head and blinked, looking surprised. “Are…we done or something? Because I’m tired, but not that tired. And I didn’t think you had, you know…finished.”
He held back his smile this time, but he liked how much she didn’t want this to be over yet, either. “Don’t worry, honey—we’re not even close to done. Now stand up.”
In response, she eased off him and together they got to their feet. Mike finally shrugged out of his shirt, even though his pants were still on, and he pushed her bra off her shoulders as he gently turned her beautifully naked body around, facing away from him. Then he leaned into her, her back warm against his front, and used his hands to press her palms flat into the painted cinderblock wall.
“Oh,” she said softly, sounding more surprised by the position than he might have anticipated.
But he didn’t hesitate. He couldn’t; he needed to be back inside her. So he gripped her hips and entered her thickly from behind, loving it when she let out a long, low sob.
“Is it okay? Feel good?” he asked near her ear.
“Unh,” she said.
“Is that a good sound?”
“Uh-huh.”
Damn, she couldn’t even talk. “You feel it that much?” he asked.
“Uh-huh.”
“Good.”
And then he began to move in her again, sensing her slickness in spite of the condom, thrusting harder now into her tight warmth—beca
use slow and deep had been good for a while, but now he needed her fast and hard.
He growled his expanding pleasure as she met his every stroke, and soon they were both crying out with each impact. Mike’s whole body was taut with the hot bliss of being inside her, his chest tight, his thighs aching, his heart beating like a drum. He reached around to caress her breasts, to run his hands over her slender stomach, to dip one into her moisture. Aw, damn. She was just as wet as he suspected, and feeling it on his fingertips only escalated his heat.
He groaned through clenched teeth as he drove into her soft flesh again and again—until he sensed her legs giving way and whispered, “I’ve got you, I’ve got you,” his arms closing around her waist as he eased them both to their knees on the floor.
He resumed moving in her that way—shit, it was hard to control himself now. And when she leaned back into him, turning her head to gaze at him, she looked so beautiful—cheeks flushed, lips parted, eyes half shut—that he had to kiss her. Hard.
Until he was getting weak, too, and simply pressed his cheek to hers as he continued delivering firm strokes below, his hands moving slowly over her breasts and torso.
On the verge of coming, he pulled out, and she gasped. At first, he couldn’t make sense of why he’d done it, stopped like that, when sweet ecstasy had been only a few heartbeats away. But when she turned to look at him again, he understood his actions. He just hadn’t gotten quite enough yet; he’d just wanted more of her.
“Lie down,” he said without preamble. “On your back.”
And so she eased down onto the tile beneath them, propped on her elbows, looking so gorgeous that for a second he feared he’d explode, right then and there.
“The floor’s cold,” she told him.
“Sorry,” he said, just realizing that part. “Probably hard, too.”
“It’s okay,” she promised. “Just please come back. Inside me again.”
Christ. The plea nearly buried him. She sounded so much more…tame than the Rachel Farris he’d come to know, but at the same time, still demanding—and for once, he didn’t mind.