“Francesca, open your mouth,” he whispered against her warm lips.
Frankie took a gulp of air and Gage was in, his tongue dueling with hers while his fingers splayed in the soft hair at her temples. His mouth was ruthless. Sparks flew behind her closed eyes. She couldn’t have said how long the kiss went on.
Minutes?
Days?
Nobody had ever kissed her like that before. Infinitely sweet and soothing one moment and harshly demanding the next, shock-loading her brain cells.
His arm slid around her waist and dragged her tight against his chest. Aware that her feet were no longer in contact with the floor, Frankie wrapped her arms around his neck and let him carry her to the sofa. His hands moved with practiced precision. Through dim eyes, Frankie saw her sweatshirt sail across the room without realizing when and how it was removed.
“This is probably not a good idea,” she contended in a breathless voice.
“Wrong.” His mouth caressed along her jawline, breath hot and ragged against her ear. “This is an excellent idea.”
“I’m not sure,” she whispered.
“Cowards are the first to cry foul,” he teased.
“Then I must be a coward.”
“Wrong again.” He nipped her earlobe. “You’re just off balance because you’re not in control.” He captured her mouth before she could answer, sinking his tongue into its depths. Her world pulsed with lightning. Frankie shuddered, sighed softly in his embrace before responding with equal vigor.
His hot mouth slid a sensuous path to her breast. He teased, taunted the sensitized skin, taking her nipple into his mouth and sucked greedily through wet lace.
Frankie heard herself panting. She felt a brief moment of panic, the knowledge that everything between them was about to change. Lust won out and shoved the fear away. She clutched a handful of his hair to pull him closer.
Her bra was expertly coaxed down her arms by his large, skilled hands. Frankie moaned and arched beneath him. Her breasts were sensitive, quick to peak when he latched onto a straining nipple. Rational thought deserted her. She sifted her fingers through the short silky strands of his dark hair, and anchored his head in place. The pull of his hot mouth nearly drove her insane. “Please,” she whimpered. His thumb and fingers spanned her stomach, sliding up to trace her ribcage.
Gage paused in his attentions to glance up at her face. Her eyes were closed, her head tipped back to expose the creamy smooth flesh of her neck. Her mouth was soft, and parted as she gave herself up to the pleasure. Pleasure that he gave her. Nothing he’d ever seen was more beautiful than that moment. She lost herself in his arms, quivering. Her slender body trembled on the brink of explosion. He felt heat and moistness through the thick fabric of her jeans, heard the shivering hiss of her breath —too shallow and rapid.
“Easy,” he murmured, trying to soothe her. “We’ve got all night.”
Her head whipped from side to side. “Gage, NOW!” she panted through gritted teeth, tugging at him with all her strength.
It was a plea he couldn’t refuse. He peeled jeans and panties off her lean hips in one smooth tug. Pulling her closer to the edge of the sofa, he opened her wider, using his thumbs to expose her swollen labia.
He bent his head and took her clit with his mouth.
Frankie shrieked and reared up. A strong hand in the middle of her chest pushed her back down and held her there. “Easy.” He tasted her with one slow lick. Powerful arms pinned her in place. He sucked and flicked, bathing her clit with his tongue while his broad shoulders kept her quivering legs apart.
Her head thrashed. The pleasure was so sharp it robbed her breath. She was tangled in an overload of sensation. Frankie clenched her teeth, shuddering as she strained against his mouth.
Gage clasped her hips tight.
She’d have fingerprint bruises tomorrow, she knew, but didn’t give a damn right now. She couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t get her mind to work.
Frankie gasped out, “Gage, please!”
Something incredible was going to happen to her.
Gage sucked a little harder, the barest sharp flick of his tongue. A thick, penetrating finger slowly stretched her vagina. The sensory onslaught was torture. Pure sweet agony. She let out a shrill, helpless cry. A low throb had begun to build deep in her belly, coiled inward like a taut spring. Sharp, staccato breaths moved in and out of her flared nostrils. She gulped for air in the vacuum of space.
A rising numbness replaced the tingling sensation around her lips and mouth. She gripped the sofa cushions, her fingers curled into frozen claws that dug into the palms of her hands.
Air!
She had to have air!
Through the roar in her ears she heard a sound like a steam engine huff and puff up a steep mountain. Fear of the unknown turned to stark panic that reared up suddenly and caught her in its dizzy grasp. Her ineffective breaths doubled, tripled. Fluttering specks began to dart along her field of vision like specters. Frankie watched their frenzied flight with awe. Her last conscious thought was one made in erroneous silence.
“I see spots.”
Her eyes rolled backwards.
She fainted.
Chapter 9
SPOTS
Frankie was baffled to hear the sound of Gage’s deep voice gently urging her to wake up. She moved slowly, her body heavy and strange. For an anxious moment she thought herself blind before her eyes fluttered open to stare blankly at the ceiling.
A pale moon shone through the window, casting the room in a ghostly glow. Light and shadows danced across every surface. Frankie realized with a start that she was on the hard floor, naked, her head in Gage’s lap. She struggled to sit up, reaching out for something to cover herself.
Gage held her in place. “Wait,” he soothed. “Rest awhile longer.”
She let out a held breath and stared at his large hand. His nails and cuticles were immaculate.
“What am I doing down here?”
He tilted his head. Brilliant eyes, the color of Burmese peridot, pinned her in place. A dark shadow of stubble covered his square jaw. “You hyperventilated and fainted.” His lips curled in amusement. The look on her face was so serious he couldn’t resist teasing her. “Next time I’ll bring a paper bag with me.”
She blinked. Was this what Kristen had been excited about when she talked of seeing spots? Frankie didn’t see the fun in it.
“I am so embarrassed.” Frankie turned her head and came face to face with the zipper of his jeans. “I need some clothes.”
“No, you don’t,” he answered softly. “I’m not done with you yet.”
Frankie closed her eyes and tried to shake out the cobwebs. Her thought processes were scattered and there were a few things that didn’t make sense.
“Syncope prior to orgasm,” he mused out loud and reached to brush her hair back. “Have you ever done that before?”
“Done what?”
“Fainted during sex.” He bent down and brushed a kiss across her damp forehead.
“No,” she whispered. “I haven’t.”
Dread clawed at her gut. Her terrible suspicions were right. Something was wrong with her! Gage’s soothing voice cut through her angst.
“I’ll talk you through it next time, sweetheart.”
“That wasn’t an orgasm?” she stammered.
His hand wavered. “No, that wasn’t an orgasm.” He maneuvered them both until she rested in his arms and then he bent to kiss her again. “You get two more minutes to recover and then I’ll give you a real one,” he replied.
“Promise?” She stared at him with a fiery mixture of hope and trust and naked desire.
“Time’s up.” He lunged to his feet and carried her straight up with him.
“Cheater,” she protested. “That wasn’t two minutes.”
He didn’t bother to answer, instead threw her over his broad shoulder and carried her into the cluttered bedroom. Setting her down in the middle of the matt
ress, he stepped back and swung his arm wide with flourish.
“Let me re-introduce myself,” he spoke, melodramatic behind the sweetest of boyish grins. “My name is Gage Parker Adams and I’ll be your beefcake entertainment for the evening.”
Frankie lifted herself up on her elbows and started to giggle. Even with her limited experience, she knew Gage was well over the top end of the Sisterhood’s wicked beefcake scale. He was the sexiest man she’d ever seen. His eyes, sparkling gems on a jeweler’s velvet pad, never left her body.
He unbuttoned his shirt. It fell to the floor in a heap, left heavy muscles that rippled across his sculpted chest. Frankie’s gaze moved down his body in mute appreciation.
She stopped giggling.
“Looks like I’ve got the best seat in the house.”
“You have the only seat in the house,” he answered, his voice deep.
“Are you going to dance for me?” she teased.
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“If you’ve got the right kind of music.” He flexed a bicep. “And how big a tip you’re willing to give for a peek at my unit.”
“What if I sang for you?”
“Spare me.”
“Whistled?”
“No.”
“Hummed?”
Gage grinned and took a step towards her. “I’ll make you hum.”
His pants were next to hit the floor. Frankie’s eyes widened. Rooted to the spot, she couldn’t look away. Not only did he hang to the left, but he was hung, as well. Her hands itched to run the length of him—just one touch of that satin-covered steel cock. Gage moved his hips in a slow, sensual roll. Frankie felt the overwhelming urge to whistle and gave into it.
Loudly.
Laughing, he started across the bed towards her. She scooted backwards and cautiously pressed herself against the headboard.
“It’s show time, Frankie. Last chance to change your mind.” He grew serious. “What will it be?” Gage moved his face closer. “No or Go?” He let his breath wash over her. His strong hand reached around to massage her back.
The chill of uncertainty began to thaw.
It was a rare time in her life that Frankie made decisions based solely on primitive urges. She reached out to touch his shoulder. “I’m nervous and scared that I’ll fail,” she replied with quaking honesty.
“I know. That’s why we’re doing this together. Let me take the controls awhile. I’ll get you there safe and sound.”
His voice was a husky rumble that did strange things to her willpower.
“Promise?”
“I promise.” He held up his hand.
“Gage, I’m not even sure that I can.”
“You can.”
Frankie took a tortured breath and whispered, “I’m thirty four years old and I’ve never been able to have an orgasm.”
“You will.”
“How can you possibly know that? You don’t know everything.” The pitch of her voice escalated. “What if there’s something wrong with me?”
“There isn’t.”
“What if there is?”
He reached out and pulled her close. She gasped.
“Trust me,” he whispered, inhaling deeply. “There is nothing wrong with you that I can’t fix.”
Frankie trembled in his arms. If there was anyone in the world she trusted, Gage topped that list. If he really thought it was possible, she would try one last time.
Frankie nodded.
Gage caught her lower lip between his teeth and nipped gently. Her eyes fluttered closed. He held her head firm between his hands and devoured her mouth with his tongue; thrust in, backed out, repeating the motion until Frankie moaned with each breath. His lips clung to her, coaxed and nibbled their way across her throat until she sobbed from the pleasure of it.
He muscled her thighs apart and rested his weight against her. “Wrap your legs around my waist,” his voice was seductive, as it whispered over her skin. “Higher.”
She complied, offering herself completely because there was no other option. She soaked up the feel of his skin. His strong hands reached around to cup and tilt her ass for maximum penetration.
He entered her in one slick thrust.
“Gage?”
“Right here, baby,” he rasped. “I’m not going anywhere.”
She surrounded every inch of him with tightness bordering on pain. Her body flexed and held him hot, wet captive. She moaned his name over and over in a lover’s mantra as he pushed his big cock deeper and deeper until his balls nestled against her ass. He took a nipple in his mouth and sucked as if starved.
“God you taste good,” he groaned.
Frankie squeezed her eyelids closed. Pleasure licked flames higher and higher. When he slipped her legs over his shoulders and began a slow rotation of his hips, she screamed and clutched the sheets.
* * * *
He started slow and almost brutally deep. She was so hot and needy he knew one good fucking wouldn’t be nearly enough. He’d make love to her all night if that was what it took. He listened to her body, felt its tension as she writhed beneath him. She moved frantic and unknowing, helped by his large hands as they guided her clumsy rhythm. He kept their pace steady, slowed her down when she tried too hard. Her body knew the place it needed to go. It was up to him to show it how to get there.
Frankie was taking in huge gulps of air, eyes glistening with unshed tears. Her breath came in heavy pants. Gage had been waiting for this moment. His deep voice grabbed and held her attention.
“Francesca, purse your lips.”
Frankie shook her head.
“Hold your breath,” he coaxed. “Do what I do.”
She watched, listened, followed his lead.
“Now blow it out.” He exhaled.
She exhaled rapidly.
“Take another deep breath.”
He inhaled.
She inhaled.
He thrust, pushing against her cervix.
She ground against him.
“Again,” he ordered.
Gage brought her closer with each penetrating glide. He spoke with a soft measured voice and compelled her to mimic his every breath. She was right there. Near the edge yet blind to the fact.
“Please,” she sobbed.
“Come to me,” he crooned, breathless and tortured as she was. He moved up on her body, changed the angle slightly and surged into her again, faster now, and harder. He could feel her answering quivers deep inside. Her head thrashed from side to side. She grabbed at his body, unsure if pulling him close or pushing away was the answer. Gage was relentless. He changed his angle again and gave—
One.
More.
Thrust.
“Come to me, sweetheart,” he whispered in her ear.
“Yesssssss!”
Her orgasm surged forth in one momentous tidal wave, swamping them both with its intensity. He took her cry, a high, keening sound of unbearable pleasure, into his open mouth. She screamed long and loud, an agonized sound as every muscle in her body celebrated its first exquisite release.
Gage paused a moment to regain his own control. He stared down at the woman he had known for so long, stunned that he was sharing an intimacy he had never believed possible. She was beautiful. His lips hitched upward in a wry smile. She still rode the edge. He rolled his hips and surged forward, his fingers biting into the flesh of her ass. Her second orgasm came harder, quicker and sharper than the last and with a guttural sound he followed her over the brink.
For several minutes only the hard sound of their breathing, coming in heavy pants, filled the darkness. She stirred, exhaled a soft sigh and brushed a kiss across his lips.
“Thank you,” gusted in his ear.
“I’m here to serve,” he answered breathlessly.
She gasped in surprise when he flexed inside her. Frankie countered with her own brazen move, a seductive clench that hitched his breath. Her internal muscles held him fast.
/>
“Hmmmm, I think I might be getting the hang of this.”
“You’re a fast learner,” he choked.
Gage tenderly stared into her face. She was radiant in the light of the bedside lamp. He took a shaky breath. Sex with one particular woman had never been so essential. Only one sensible reason explained why it would be that way now.
Quinton was right. This was worth the risk. She was worth any risk. He pulled her closer in his arms and settled them both under the covers.
She sighed and snuggled into his chest. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this exhausted in my life.”
“Sleep.”
He brought her hand to the warmth of his mouth and kissed each finger. Buried deep in the back of his mind, Gage knew that at some point a long talk with her was necessary. Maybe once she had a nap and the afterglow was gone he could let her know what he expected. Monogamy. Honesty. He was not ready for a disastrous repeat of the last failed relationship, even though the idea of dredging up old emotional garbage made his skin crawl. Lying sprawled across his chest, Frankie was already asleep. Gage brushed her soft hair with the palm of his hand, stared at the ceiling and made plans that only he could see.
* * * *
If anyone would have dared suggest that one day she would be curled up in her bed, watching Gage Adams sleep after a blistering night of wild, uninhibited sex, she would have suggested they check themselves into the nearest rehab center. Yet there he was, tucked in beside her and it felt absolutely wonderful.
A secret little smile curved her mouth.
Soft morning light filtered through gauzy curtains, suffusing mauve colored walls with its magic and burning his image on her mind for eternity. From the unshaven angle of his jaw, the slope of his strong chin, the rise and fall of his muscled chest; Frankie was mesmerized.
The bells of the harbor buoy clanged through the peaceful haze. She could hear the familiar morning song of her neighbor’s canary drifting in through the open window.
Guarding the Coast Page 10