And then he was in the water beside her. And she simply had to look. One peek. Well, one peek turned into a lingering glance, which evolved into a full-fledged ogle.
Damn, he was as wonderful as she’d imagined. Better even. He tilted his head back, worked his fingers through all that thick, gorgeous hair and let the water pound down on his chest. His shirt clung to every ripple in his back as he turned beneath the spray, the muscles in his arms bunching quite perfectly as he raked his hair back and enjoyed the flow of water over his skin.
Her nipples pebbled and it had nothing to do with the feel of the water spraying her own skin. In fact, she’d all but forgotten about her own shower.
And then he opened his eyes and looked directly into hers. “Feels incredible,” he said, his voice somehow deeper, more intimate sounding. It made her shiver. “Cold?”
She’d never been so hot in her whole entire life.
“Here, turn around,” he said, “I’ll help you get the stuff out of your hair.”
She had no idea what he was saying, only that his lips were moving, because his hands—big, wide, and warm—were on her shoulders now and nothing else mattered except that he was touching her.
He shifted her so her back was to him, then his hands moved up into her hair. He tilted her head back under the heavy stream of water and slowly began to work the pulp from the strands. The pressure of his fingertips felt incredibly good on her scalp. Her skin came alive under his confident ministrations. A moan slipped out before she was aware of it. His fingers stilled for just a second and she held her breath, hoping like hell she hadn’t just ended what was, so far, the highlight of her vacation.
Then his fingers started massaging again and she sighed deeply in relief and let herself lean back, just a tiny bit, into his hands. Hands that were moving, down her neck, back to her shoulders. He was turning her again and she worked hard to come out of her sensual fog and stifle her extreme disappointment that shower time was over. “Thank you,” she managed.
He left his hands on her shoulders, looking into her eyes the whole time. It was all she could do to merely hold his gaze in return, and not grab his hands and drag them to her breasts and the nipples that were all but screaming for attention. His attention. His very explicit attention.
Just as she went to step back, to end this before she did something humiliating, his hold tightened. Just a flexing of fingers, and just for a moment, but a telling one. As if he, too, were warring with some inner decision.
“I—I should probably—” she began to stammer.
“Rinse your shirt out,” he finished, fingering the sodden silk plastered over her collarbone.
Her heart hammered as they continued to stand there, gazes locked on one another, his fingertips playing over the wet fabric of her shirt. Was he offering what she thought he was offering? And if so…“Yes,” she blurted before common sense could reassert itself. “Yes, I should.”
Then he grinned. And she quivered.
The grin faltered just a bit, a brow raised in question as his fingers stilled. She covered his hands before he could take them away. He’d offered, dammit, and he was going to follow through. “I’m okay. It’s just—” What the hell, she thought. “There was nothing ‘nice guy’ about that grin.”
And then it was back, full-blown and far more dangerous than she could have imagined. “That’s the best thing anyone has said to me all day.” He stepped closer. “All year, in fact,” he added, his fingers sliding down along the edge of her shirt to the bare skin between her breasts. “And God knows, it’s been a hell of a year,” he murmured, leaning his head closer to where his hands were lingering.
She had no idea what he was saying. She was using all her concentration to keep her knees locked and herself upright. When he began to peel the silk off her damp skin, her grip slid from his hands up to his wrists, then to his forearms, which flexed ever so perfectly beneath her touch.
He nudged her backward, just slightly, so the water hit only the bare skin of her breasts, beating lightly against her nipples, which were obvious now even through the soaked padding of her bra. She wanted to feel him touch her there, wanted to feel the water pummel her overly sensitized skin as he rolled her nipples between his fingers.
But when he started to undo the front clasp of her bra, she had a moment—a very brief one—of hesitation. It was an instinctive reaction, borne from too many less-than-enthusiastic reactions when she’d revealed her less-than-bountiful self to a prospective lover.
Lover. Dear Lord have mercy.
But she couldn’t think about that now. Focus on his hands, she schooled herself. It was all she could handle anyway. But his hands didn’t move, so she opened her eyes, only then realizing she’d closed them.
“Are you okay with this?”
She could only nod. Water clung to his thick lashes, framing eyes that looked like sparkling bits of gold in the moonlight. He smiled and shifted his forearms just a bit and she flushed, realizing she had a death grip on him.
“It’s not like we haven’t already revealed this part of you tonight,” he said, only a hint of amusement in his tone.
She flashed a rueful smile and gave what she hoped was a carefree laugh. Which was difficult as this had somehow become far from carefree. For her anyway. “It was the surprise that you’d want to see them again that gave me pause.”
He didn’t even blink. His grin grew wider as the look in his eyes turned almost…predatory. She shivered in response. Feminism be damned, she thought, there were times when being the prey was good. Very, very good.
“Can I tell you something?” he murmured.
Anything! “What?”
“It’s your nipples.”
“My wha—?” But the word ended on a gasp as he brushed the tips of his thumbs over them.
He dipped his head a bit, then he looked up at her through those impossibly sexy lashes and said, “Ever since I first saw them, I haven’t stopped thinking about how they’d fit into my mouth.”
She had no idea what her reaction should have been, but probably not the laugh that burst out of her. It was part in amazement and part in nervous shock. This man—this Adonis—wanted her nipples? “Well,” she managed finally, “I think you should definitely find out.”
He dipped down and blew across the very tips of them, then said, “I was hoping you’d say that,” just before extending his tongue and lightly flicking the water droplets that clung to their engorged tips.
Chapter Five
How in the hell had this happened? At the moment, however, he couldn’t seem to string his thoughts together enough to care, much less find the answer. Damn, but her nipples were perfect. Dusky rose and fully budded, they just beckoned to be rubbed, licked, and sucked.
He’d gone rock-hard at the thought of getting to put his mouth on them. Once he’d heard that throaty little moan of hers and remembered how she’d looked, standing half naked back on that path, nipples puckered beyond belief, he’d discovered a burning, almost desperate need within himself to learn how those plump buds would feel between his lips.
He pushed at the clinging fabric of her shirt and the sodden cups of her bra, until her breasts were bared completely to him. Small, softly rounded, they wouldn’t even fill his palms. But tipped so sweetly with those perfect nipples, it didn’t matter. He stroked his thumb over one, making her gasp and shudder, then placed his tongue directly beneath the other and lapped at the water cascading over the reddened tip. Again and again, he let the tip of his tongue gently stroke the bottom edge, causing that perfect nub to tighten further as he continued to play with her other one.
He was dying to pull it into his mouth, but something kept him teasing her. He switched allegiances and stroked her other nipple with his tongue, a long, swirling swipe all around it, as he rolled the other one between thumb and forefinger. She moaned and her knees dipped. He nudged her backward, so her back pressed against the stones behind the waterfall for support. The water cascad
ed down his back now, her nipples wet with sparkling droplets of water, but no longer under the steady stream. Now they were all his.
Her hands drifted shakily over his shoulders, then she slid her fingers into his hair. “Please,” she rasped.
“Please what?” he demanded, knowing when she shuddered hard that it was the right direction to push her. And he discovered he wanted to push her. This seemingly competent woman when it came to everything else, had no idea what to do with this. So this is exactly where he wanted to take her. Push her. Into an area she had no confidence with. So she’d be forced to follow his lead, to trust in wherever he took her.
It was a wild train of thought, one that aroused him unbearably, and yet made no sense to him. He’d come here looking for someone to drive him, push him, take him into those new arenas. But when he finally succumbed and moved his mouth over that perfect nipple, pulling it deeply into his mouth and suckling it so that she bucked against the wall and clutched at his hair, he realized that he wanted to be the one driving, the one pushing, the one taking. This was where he would find that inner wild man he’d so hoped to discover.
No tidy, man-on-top, one-orgasm-apiece interlude; this wasn’t going to be like a corporate merger, all laid out ahead of time where everyone knew what to expect. No, this was going to be whatever he wanted it to be, whatever he could make it be…whatever he could make her do.
He used his tongue on her, growing harder, if that were possible, as she moaned and began to thrash her head from side to side. Then he moved over her slick skin, dragging his tongue from one nipple to the other. He toyed with it, flicked at it, until she grabbed his head and tried to shove his mouth on her. “Do it,” she commanded. “For God’s sake, do it.”
He grinned against her wet skin and felt his hips buck a little as his body began to demand its own release. “Do what?” he asked, flicking at the tip once again with his tongue. He gripped her hips suddenly and pulled her forward so that the water once again rushed over her breasts. She gasped and her hips bucked and he thought he could swallow her whole right there. Her back arched to him and her head tipped back as she thrust her breasts at him, reduced now to following her body’s demands, willing to beg him.
And that very idea almost set him off. The idea that he could make her beg. He, Cameron James IV, who’d never in his entire life done something so…impolite as to make a woman beg him for anything.
“Do what?” he growled again, grappling now with his own self-control, his mind reeling almost drunkenly with this new arsenal of possibilities.
“Touch me.” She was shivering, shuddering, grabbing at his head, trying to make him do what she wanted.
He resisted, just enough to make her struggle. “How,” he said roughly. “How do you want me to touch you?”
“You know,” she almost whined, her fingers twisting in his hair now. “Like…like you were.” She panted, then gasped again when he flicked his tongue across first one tip then the other. “Yes, please, yes.”
“Tell me—” It was then he realized he didn’t even know her name. “Your name, what is it?”
She tipped her head forward then, her gaze a bit disconnected, as if she were trying to focus outwardly but couldn’t quite manage it. It only provoked him further.
He brushed his thumbs lightly over the tips, making her jerk and gasp. “Your name. Tell me.”
“Allison,” she managed, breathless. “Allie.”
He looked up into her eyes, his mouth poised right next to where she was so desperate to have it. “Then tell me, Allie, tell me what you want me to do to you.”
She tried to move and press her nipple between his lips, but he gripped her hips and kept her right where he wanted her. “Tell me.”
“Your mouth…on me,” she said, then gasped, as once again he shifted her so that the water brushed over her.
“How,” he kept on, the torture almost as unbearable for him as it was on her. Exquisitely so.
“Your…tongue.” She panted. “Please.”
“More, tell me more.”
She whimpered a little, then bucked hard when he lightly flicked the ends yet again.
“Say it,” he commanded.
“I—please.” Her thighs were trembling visibly, her body fairly quivering with need. A need he had driven her to, and with only his tongue and fingers. She wasn’t even fully naked. It made him wonder what else he could do to her, with her.
He had a momentary, almost violent need to rip off that silly sarong, and simply ram himself right into her. She’d be dripping wet by now and he knew he could take her screaming over the edge, and himself with her. It was such a shocking vision he stilled for a second. And that was all it took for the tide to turn. She yanked his head back and looked blindly down at him. “Suck them,” she demanded hoarsely. “Dammit, do it!”
He grinned then, feeling wildly primal and seeing the same mirrored in her flashing, ever-so-pale eyes. This was even better, and he hadn’t thought it could be better. Dueling for control.
“Now,” she said.
“Yes, ma’am,” he murmured, then pulled her nipple deeply into his mouth, making her moan long and hard the entire time he suckled it. He moved to the other, keeping his hands on her the entire time, until she could barely force her legs to hold her up. He had just started to slide his tongue down the center of her belly, when she suddenly pulled away.
“I can’t—you have to—I’ve never—Jesus,” she finally panted.
He straightened, but didn’t move away from her. His body had gone well past demanding release to actual pain. He willed it to subside, just a little. He wasn’t done pushing her…or himself. Because he knew right then he wasn’t going to end this hastily. Oh no…the night wasn’t even half over. So what if she wasn’t the wanton maiden of his fantasies? He had another full day and night to find her, discover other games, other needs…other satisfactions. This night belonged to them.
And he already had a long list of things he wanted to do with her…make her do for him.
He crowded her back against the wall with his body. “I told you your nipples fascinated me.”
“They’re beginning to fascinate me too,” she managed, followed by a slight, almost giddy laugh. “I never…” But she couldn’t seem to finish and let her head loll back against the rocks. Another little laugh escaped her and his body twitched—hard—at the rich, inviting sound. “I almost—” She broke off, shaking her head as a taint of red stained her cheeks. “I didn’t think I could,” she said, almost more to herself. “Just from…you know.”
His grin returned even as his body continued to prod him. What was it about her that was just so damn stimulating? In a crowd, or even sitting alone, he’d have never noticed her, never looked twice. Yet, here he was, all but dying to get a real taste of her. “Why did you stop me?”
Her lips quirked then. “Because I’m hopeless?”
Is that how she saw herself? And yet, wasn’t that the impression he’d gotten the first time he’d seen her? That she was somewhat clueless about her own sexuality? Or at least with what to do about it? Well, tell that to his still rock-hard cock.
“Not hopeless,” he said, because he knew now it was true. She simply needed…guidance. A steady hand. And tongue.
When she opened her mouth, presumably to argue, he shifted his weight against her, so she could clearly feel the hard length of him against her. “Actually,” he said, his own voice suddenly tight, “I was thinking more along the lines of hopeful.”
She blinked, then looked at him again. “Hopeful?”
He pushed against her. “Very hopeful. Almost demandingly so.”
Her hands came up against his chest, in what felt like an instinctive move more than a conscious one. Her body was primed, beyond primed, and he felt this renewed spurt of power that he could probably push her exactly where he wanted her to go. But would he do that? Could he simply take what he wanted?
He twitched with the need to follow throug
h on his thoughts, right here and now, but her eyes widened just slightly at the movement and he silently cursed as the nice guy put the wild man in a half nelson…and held him there. He wanted to push her, but he wanted her to be ready to be pushed. He shifted back, just slightly, just so he wasn’t pressed right up against her.
Her fingers pressed into his chest, surprising him, stilling his retreat. “So…” she began, trailing off as he looked into her eyes.
“So?”
“Do I get a turn?”
His cock all but leaped in response. “I, uh…yeah.”
She smiled, and it was the hint of uncertainty in it that undid him the rest of the way.
“Do with me as you will,” he said, smiling at her.
She moved away from the rock and pushed him so that he took her place, his back to the wall of stones. She pushed at his shirt until she’d shoved the soaking wet fabric off his shoulders, leaving it bound around his biceps, trapping his arms to his sides. He had no idea what she was about, but he was primed and ready to find out.
So he was going to be taken, driven, after all. He almost smiled as he looked at whom he’d chosen to be in the driver’s seat. And yet, he couldn’t remember ever being poised on such a high-perched brink as he was right at that moment. It must be the location, he thought, some kind of island fever, the shackles of societal conventions gone so that anything felt good. With anyone.
Then she dipped her head, almost tentatively, and flicked her tongue across his nipple. A short, fierce exhalation followed and it wasn’t until she forced that sound from him again by flicking the other one that he realized he’d even been the one to make it.
She rubbed her fingertip over whichever nipple she wasn’t sucking on and suddenly it was his knees that weren’t so steady. “Sweet…Jesus,” he said, ending somewhat forcefully as she sucked him a bit harder, flicked the tip of the other one a bit harder. How had he missed out on this bit of knowledge before?
I Love Bad Boys Page 21