Wyatt stepped back to check out the view in front of him. It didn’t disappoint. She didn’t turn, didn’t move, and he ran a finger along her spine, her flesh hot, a sheen of excited perspiration on her skin. He undid the bra hook, but left it alone, dangling under her shoulder blades.
His head was swimming, his desire so intense he could barely breathe. Shrugging out of his jacket quickly, he tossed it on the floor, next to her crumpled dress. His tie was strangling him, but he didn’t bother with it. He couldn’t keep his hands off her. Especially not when CJ moved just a little, just enough to make her bra straps fall down her arms.
With a quick Houdini effort that he almost missed, she extracted herself from the straps and the black lace fell to the carpet. Whoa. The curve of her breast on the side taunted him, but Wyatt didn’t want to face CJ just yet. She seemed more comfortable staring at his Christmas tree than she did facing him. Her body had relaxed, her breathing more natural, her shoulders dropping a little.
And she had taken off her bra, no matter how much she wanted to be discreet about it. That thing wouldn’t have gotten on the floor without some help.
Neither would her panties.
So he helped them.
He shifted to her side, and his tongue followed the descent of the black lace as he drew them down over her thighs. But he got distracted as he caught the first glimpse of her bare flesh, her light brown curls, and her sweet, musky scent. His fingers shoved the panties past her hips and he stretched across her thigh until he could reach her. Down on his knees, he teased between her legs with his tongue, forcing her to step apart to allow him room, her panties straining across her knees.
A raspy little moan jerked from her.
Wyatt throbbed with triumph. Crouching down, facing her as he spread her apart, he took another long, leisurely taste, holding on to her thighs to keep his balance as her moist inner folds trembled beneath his tongue.
Her hands went into his hair, and she said, “I’m going to fall. I can’t spread my legs like this with my panties still on.”
Looking up the long length of her pale, naked body, past her dusky, damp curls and her flat stomach to the most incredible breasts he’d ever seen, he smiled at her. “You’re going to spread your legs a lot farther than this before we’re done.”
Her eyes squeezed shut. “Oh, God.”
Wyatt pressed a kiss on her clitoris, then sat back on his haunches to wait, to think, to watch. Her breasts rose up and down, and he drank in the sight of them, marveling at what those baggy sweaters had been hiding. She was stacked, voluptuous but perky, her nipples rosy, her areolas a deep, ruddy red, and large. He wondered if they would even fit fully into his mouth.
His hard-on pressed painfully against the tux pants, but still he waited, gauging how close they were to the couch. Just a foot or two back.
Once she opened her eyes, he was going to lay her on that couch and keep her there until she screamed in pleasure. He’d certainly heard sarcasm and disgust come from her. Now he wanted to hear ecstasy.
CJ squeezed her thighs together, her flesh bumping him in the shoulder. Her hands fluttered off his head, and she rocked on the balls of her feet. Finally, her eyes flew open and she looked at him impatiently.
“What are you doing?”
“Move forward a little.” Tugging her hand, he dropped onto the couch, sitting on the edge.
She took a tentative step, her belly level with his eyes. Wyatt lay down, mouth wet with need. CJ leaned over him.
“You look weird still wearing a tux tie.” Her fingers undid the black tie and stripped it from around his collar.
Her breasts were dangling in front of him, and he clamped down the urge to grab on and suck them hard. Instead, he nudged her up a little. “Put your knees on either side of me.”
She did, then leaned over again, like she wanted him to take her nipples. Not wanting to be distracted, he raised his head a little, grabbed her ass, and shoved her toward him until his tongue and her labia collided.
CJ let out a cry of shock before she could stop herself. Wyatt had pulled her onto his ... oh, help, he was ...
She was sitting on his face.
Even her armpits must be blushing.
She tried to pull away, to lift up, to evade his tongue, but he was strong and she had nowhere to grab. Her legs were bent awkwardly, preventing her from getting a good grip on anything, and even when she swatted at his head, he didn’t stop.
Which was a damn good thing, because despite her embarrassment, it felt good. Catastrophic, sound barrier–breaking good. He was doing all kinds of interesting little things, moving slow and sure, flicking and sucking, and CJ found herself sinking down onto him.
He was holding her firmly in place and though she felt exposed, naked while he was still completely dressed, his touch was so delicious, so erotic, that she couldn’t bring herself to forcibly remove her body from his. She sank, sank down, sliding her knees out on either side, grabbing the arm of the couch behind his head for support as heat tore through her.
As he stroked her over and over, randomly dipping his tongue inside her before darting back to her clitoris, CJ couldn’t prevent a little moan from escaping. Her body was ready to let go, and she wanted to have her orgasm before Wyatt denied her again. She had no idea what that had been all about earlier, but she didn’t intend to let it happen again.
But Wyatt did pull back, just a little, far enough to glance up at her and murmur, “Relax, CJ.”
Relax? She was sitting on his chest, her butt resting on his shirt buttons, completely naked, while his tongue swam laps across her crotch, and he wanted her to relax?
“I don’t know what you mean.”
And if he didn’t stop talking and get back to work, this position was going to become really embarrassing. They weren’t filling out office forms. She was naked.
“You’re tense. I just want you to relax and enjoy it.”
“I’m enjoying it,” she said through gritted teeth. “Or I was until you stopped.”
He sat up without warning, and she would have sprawled all over him if he hadn’t caught her and flipped her onto her back. She barely had time to blink before he kissed her, wild and wet, and then he was gone, down to her breasts, sucking one nipple, then the other.
“What do you want me to do?” she asked, thinking that he had some kind of orchestrated moves here and obviously she wasn’t complying.
What did she know about sex? She hadn’t had any in three years and before that it had been five years since she’d fumbled her way through a first time with someone.
Wyatt probably had sex every ... no, she didn’t want to think about how often he had sex. It would make her feel inadequate and maybe even jealous.
Moving away from her slick nipple, he said, “Nothing. I just want you to lie there, soft and relaxed, taking what I give you. I want you to make noise, let me know how much you like it.”
CJ watched Wyatt kiss a path down her abdomen. She wasn’t sure she could give him what he wanted. It had been hard enough to let go of her control, to gamble that this night would be satisfying and not a disaster, and to give in to a wild physical impulse. But now that she was here, now that her own clothes were still in the bathroom and the clothes Wyatt had her wearing were discarded on the floor, she was enjoying what he was doing, but she felt vulnerable.
If she really let go, exploded with passion the way she wanted to, and screamed his name, she wasn’t going to be able to retreat at the end of the night. There would be awkwardness, embarrassment, raw feelings. This way she could still keep him at a distance and walk away with a smile and a sarcastic remark.
But that wasn’t taking into account what he was doing to her right now.
Wyatt had descended until he was between her thighs again. He took her left leg and rested it on the back of the couch, spreading her legs wide in front of him. Then with his fingers, he opened her folds, reached forward and sucked her clitoris.
He wasn
’t making this easy.
But she clamped down on her lips, and the only sound in the room was the slight squeak of the leather couch as she squirmed on it, and their breathing, hers ragged, Wyatt’s intermittent as he expelled large breaths before returning to torture her.
It was creeping up on her again, that pulsing, deep ecstasy that she could either fight or give in to. She could either hang on tight and feel good, or let it loose and feel way better than good.
Wyatt’s movements had changed, had lost their controlled skill. Before it had seemed as if he was an observer, watching her as he fingered her, giving her pleasure but not taking any. Now, he was gripping her hard, his tongue was everywhere, his teeth grazing her thigh, a groan slipping out of his mouth as he enjoyed.
“You taste so good,” he said.
The hard edge in his voice was a turn-on, and she believed him. He was losing his playboy charm, becoming desperate and a little rough, and CJ let go of the last vestiges of her own control. Sinking into the couch, she dropped her thighs even farther apart, let her arms sag above her head, and opened her mouth.
What came out of that mouth would have shocked any FBI coworkers who knew the two of them, and hell, even shocked herself. “Oh, Wyatt, dammit, don’t stop. You’re so good at this.”
He didn’t stop. And those perfect, desperate, slick, and out-of-control touches sent her rushing into an orgasm.
As it rocked through her, pitching her forward off the couch and gripping his head, she let out a yell to rival a Superbowl crowd after a touchdown. He held her in place, and his mouth continued to move on her as she shuddered and moaned, clawing at the couch in ecstasy.
“Damn, damn,” she murmured as her body settled back down.
But Wyatt was up, undoing his pants, pulling a condom out of his pocket. The speed with which he opened the package and rolled it on himself amazed her. Before she could even move any of her still-trembling muscles, he sank inside her. Which made her groan again, loudly and without restraint.
Wyatt didn’t wait for CJ’s body to adjust. He didn’t stroke slowly and ease himself inside. He just took, burying himself all the way as far as she could accommodate. He couldn’t stop himself, didn’t want to. When CJ had finally found her voice during her orgasm, he had thought he would come right then and there. Never had anything sounded so incredible, so desirable. So satisfying.
It satisfied him to satisfy her. But it also made him ache with a throbbing hardness deep in his gut until he had to take her, had to be inside her warm and wet body. CJ’s fingernails scratched his chest under his tux shirt, and he resented the fabric between his flesh and hers, but he wasn’t about to take the time to rid himself of it, either.
Her knee was still on the top of the couch, and Wyatt pulled it down and pushed it toward her, resting his hand on her kneecap. He did the same to the other leg, leaving her more fully open to him, and he pulled in and out, wanting to go forever but not sure how long he was going to be able to last.
The sight of her, eyes half closed, arms falling back weakly, her body relaxed and pliant, breasts dancing in front of him, was absolutely incredible. He felt a sense of awe that she was there with him, a need to please her, and a contentment that he’d never felt with another woman.
When she opened her eyes wide and said, “Wyatt, I’m going to come again,” he didn’t think that anything could sound better.
There was a pause where he could feel her inner muscles quivering and he urged her, “Let me see you come, baby.”
When she did, with another violent cry, gripping the armrest, he followed her, digging into her knees as he pulsed with her. The feelings, the shudders and the moans, went on and on until finally he laid his head down on her damp shoulder.
“Jesus, CJ, you trying to kill me?”
“If I wanted to kill you, I’d use my gun,” came her lazy, satisfied voice.
Her fingers were stroking along his back, nails lightly scratching his skin. He rolled a little onto his side, so he wouldn’t be crushing her, and kissed her forehead.
She didn’t snuggle into his arms, but she didn’t move away, either, and she didn’t make any objections to him still being inside her.
“I hope you have thick walls or your neighbors are going to know exactly what’s going on here.”
“A flight attendant lives next door. She’s probably not home.” And if she was, let her be jealous.
Sighing in regret, he pulled out of her, but stayed next to her on the couch, running his fingers along her stomach. “I can’t get over how gorgeous your body is. You’re like a buck-fifteen under all those baggy clothes, CJ.”
She stilled his fingers. “That tickles. And what does a buck-fifteen mean?”
“You look like about a hundred and fifteen pounds.” He grinned, giving her nipple a tweak. “And most of that is in your chest.”
She gasped. “They’re not that big. It’s just that the bra you had me put on was defective.”
He wished he’d gotten a better look at it before he had unhooked it. “How was it defective?”
“It seemed to think that a woman’s breasts belong a half inch under her chin.”
“Don’t they?” he joked.
With her thumb and index finger, she flicked him in the chest. “No, they don’t.”
Then she undid one of his buttons. Surprised, in a good hell-yeah kind of way, he let her undo another before he said, “What does CJ stand for?”
He had a real hard time seeing her as a Catherine or a Chelsea.
“Nothing. It doesn’t stand for anything.” She had four buttons down, three to go.
Without warning, her fingers slipped inside his shirt, running across his chest and he felt renewed life down south. If she didn’t watch it, she’d find herself flat on her back.
But he was more than ready to ditch the shirt and pants. He wanted CJ’s hands on him everywhere. And he had just the place to do it.
“You want to see my hot tub?”
“You have a hot tub?” She said this like he’d admitted to having handcuffs bolted above his headboard.
“It’s out on my patio. Very private, no one can see in.” The patio he’d spent half an hour stringing freaking Christmas lights around.
While she sat up and peered toward the sliding door out to his patio, she still said, “I’m not just walking out there naked.” She gestured to his pants. “You still have your clothes on, it’s not fair.”
“I could take my clothes off, no problem.”
“No, that’s not what I meant. Go get me the bra and panties. I’ll wear those.”
Naked was what he preferred, but at least this way he could check her out in the sexy underwear. It was only when he’d retrieved them and brought them to her that he realized she’d just ordered him around.
In which case, he had the right to put the panties back on her.
Slowly, with lots of detours along the way.
Five
What felt like half an hour later, Wyatt had her panties back on her and CJ was aroused all over again, wet and limp as a noodle.
Lying on her back on the couch, she groaned when he stood up and said, “Now we’ll put your bra back on.”
“Maybe we don’t need to put my clothes back on.” She resisted when Wyatt tried to tug her up into a sitting position. She didn’t want to move. Ever again.
He came at her with the black lace bra.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” Trying to wiggle away, she let out a grunt when he grabbed her.
“I’m serious, Maddock. I’ll put the bra on myself.” She shot him a warning look, but he didn’t see it with his head buried between her breasts.
“Why are you so stubborn?” he murmured, between dropping wet kisses left and right.
“Because I don’t want you putting my bra on me. It’s weird.” And intimate. She needed to steer clear of intimate or she was going to be in trouble.
But he was already slipping the armholes of the bra over her, slidi
ng the sheer lace up, while kissing her neck. She was profoundly disappointed that her nipples were covered, but resigned to his stubbornness outlasting hers, she turned so he could hook the back.
Wyatt’s fingers fumbled. “These things are harder to put on than get off.” He gave a final tug. “There.”
CJ turned back to him, caught between wanting to laugh and whimper in pain. “Obviously.”
His eyes bugged out. “What the hell?”
CJ did manage a laugh before she grabbed the bottom of the bra and yanked it down. It wasn’t doing a thing cutting across the middle of each of her breasts. “You sort of need to lift them into the bra.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Wyatt studied her chest, confusion clearing, desire sparking. “I’d be good at that.”
Help her. She smothered a laugh and swatted his hands away. “Be quiet and take your pants off.”
He grinned back. “Bossy, aren’t you? But for some weird-ass reason I don’t mind.” He stood up and dropped his pants to the floor with one push, then stepped out of them.
“You mind at work.” CJ tried not to look at his thighs and that big bump in his boxer shorts, but she wasn’t having much luck.
“We’re not at work. Order me around all you want.”
“Really?” That brought her attention to his face.
“Sure, why not? You wore the dress. I can be submissive, too.”
Hah. That was a joke. Wyatt would never be even close to submissive. More likely he’d charm her into thinking he was complying, when really he was getting his way all along.
Reaching for the final buttons still holding his shirt together, she said, “Nah. I don’t want to order you around. But the next time I tell you ‘don’t stop,’ I expect you to keep going, all right?”
She had the buttons undone and was bending over him.
Wyatt sucked in hard. “Keep going. Got it.”
CJ ran her fingers over his hard, warm chest, feeling the smooth muscles, toying with the edge of his boxers as she kissed his salty-tasting flesh above his waistband. Their breath quickened together; then she slowly pulled back.
“Let’s go in the hot tub.”
Bad Boys In Black Tie Page 13