She froze, eyes widening with sudden comprehension and dread. The dread killed him.
“I’d do anything for you, Angela,” he said tiredly, all the fight leaching out of him. For the first time, it occurred to him that he really might have to leave here tonight and call the whole thing off. Because if there was common ground between them, they sure weren’t finding it. “Why are you still so afraid?”
She hesitated, running a shaky hand through her hair.
“What do you want me to say, Justus?” she asked helplessly.
“I want to make sure you understand that this is about more than sex.” His mouth twisted and bile collected in his throat, as if his overheated body wanted its opposition to what he was about to say made perfectly clear. “So if your body is the only thing you’re offering me, then let’s just call it a night.”
Hours seemed to pass as they stared at each other, both as immovable as hundred-year oaks.
“You’re an idiot,” she said finally, shaking her head. “You know that?”
Whatever he’d expected, it wasn’t that.
He blinked. “Excuse me?”
“I mean, have we met?” She laughed bitterly. “Do you know anything about me at all? Do I look like the casual sex type?”
His admiring eyes involuntarily ran up and down her body, loving the way that sexy-ass dress clung to her curves.
“Not right now, obviously,” she snapped. “Right now I’m dressed like your usual type of woman because I want to measure up.”
“You?” Absolute shock nearly made him choke on the words. “Want to measure up? For me? What the fuck’re you talking about?”
“Do you want me to draw a picture?”
“You better believe I do.”
“Fine.” A wild light filled her glittering eyes, as if she was the one about to lose control. “This is about me choosing to be with you. Which is only natural when I think about you every waking minute of every hour of every single day. Is that clear enough for you, Justus? Are we on the same page now?”
He wanted to answer, but his jaw had clanged to the floor and he just couldn’t get any words together.
“Or are things still a little hazy for you?” She shrugged and smiled crookedly. “I’m happy to keep clarifying. This is about me wondering where you are whenever you’re not with me. Who you’re with. When you’ll be with me again. When you’ll smile at me again. When you’ll touch me or make me laugh again.”
He recovered enough to reach for her. “Angela—”
“No.” She held both hands up in a don’t-touch-me gesture. “This is what you want to hear, isn’t it? Well, hear it. I’m saying it. My bottom line is that I’m scared, yeah. But I’m getting over it because I can’t...”
“Angela—”
She took a choppy breath and wiped away a sudden tear as it splashed on her cheek.
“I can’t live through another night—not one more night—without knowing what it feels like...to have you inside me.”
Ah, shit. There it was. Finally, God. Finally.
She ran her hand under her nose. “Happy now?”
God, he was.
He was also completely drained, as if he’d just finished a triathlon.
Lightheaded with relief, he leaned his head forward and pressed his hands to his temples. It didn’t help. So he dropped to his knees in front of her, wrapped his arms around her waist, and buried his face in the silky sheath of her belly.
She shuddered, wrapped her arms around his neck, and held just as tight.
“Justus.”
The need in her voice almost matched his own. He inhaled deeply, breathing in her skin’s floral fragrance—lilies, he thought—and, underneath that, her body’s musk. The scent snapped his control like dry kindling, leaving his frantic hands to do whatever they damn well pleased.
They slid down from her waist to cup her silk-covered ass. Shit. It was round, tight, and sexier than he’d ever dreamed, especially when it began to flex as she eagerly moved her hips.
Her hips.
They were wide. Curvy. Gripping them to anchor her, he nuzzled her sex until she mewled and writhed.
“Yes,” he hissed.
Raising his head, he saw her standing above him, with her eyes closed, head back, breasts thrust forward (her nipples were hard now; all for him), and lips parted.
She was, beyond any shadow of a doubt, the sexiest and most beautiful sight he’d ever seen. Her uninhibited sensuality stunned him. It was like she couldn't give herself to him fast enough.
His inner wolf howled with possessive delight.
If this was what Angela was like when he’d barely touched her, he could hardly wait to see what she did when she came.
“Angela,” he said, ignoring his growing discomfort as his zipper cut into his rigid arousal.
He waited. She dazedly lifted her head and looked down at him with unfocused eyes. Her hair shifted and fell over her shoulders.
“Last chance,” he warned, trying to catch his breath as his lungs heaved. “I can’t go easy. And I’m not letting you go. Not after this. I want everything you’ve got. And then I want some more. And then I want it again.”
She smiled and tossed her hair, meeting his eyes with an unmistakable challenge in hers. Taking all the time in the world about it, she unwound his hands from her hips and pressed them to her soft, heavy breasts, where her aroused nipples felt like cherries under his palms.
He heard a weird, strangled sound and realized vaguely that he was the one who’d made it.
“Let’s go,” she said, laughing softly, and that was all the encouragement he needed.
21
Her words unleashed something inside both of them.
They lunged for each other, hard and fast, and he didn’t have enough hands to do all the things he wanted to do—had dreamed of doing—with this woman. The dizzying thrill of this kind of full-body contact made him cry out. Or maybe it was the glorious triumph of making it to this moment. Bruised and battered, yeah, but here and so full of gratitude that it burned his throat.
“You’re mine now,” he said, nipping her ear. “You know that, right?”
Another sultry laugh that made him even harder. “Thank God.”
Thinking of several other things he wanted that pretty mouth to do besides laugh at him, Justus grabbed her face—his shaky hands wouldn’t let him be gentle, much as he liked to think of himself as a highly skilled lover—angled it, closed his mouth over hers, and absorbed her unabashed moan deep into his body. So this was what it was like to kiss Angela the way he wanted: a sliding, sucking, nipping, and deliciously wet exercise in tasting her every which way he could and then doing it all again just in case he missed something the first million times.
Her texture? Full and velvety. Her flavor? Champagne with a vague bouquet of mint. Her style? Fevered and demanding.
Her tongue? Maddeningly elusive. He chased it with his own, making a crazy growling sound that would embarrass him if he thought about it too much later, and when she laughed again, in between kisses, he realized she was doing it on purpose to drive him insane.
It was working.
Grabbing handfuls of her hair on either side of her head, he yanked her back far enough to be able to see the wicked gleam in her heavy-lidded eyes. She came after him, trying to reach his mouth again, and he nipped her bottom lip to make sure he had her attention.
They stared at each other for one moment of breathless wonder.
He’d slept with every woman he could get his hands on over the years but, honest to God, he’d never known it could be like this.
“You think this is funny?” he asked, sneaking another quick kiss. “You think I’m not hot enough for you already?”
Her smile faded. “Not even close.”
Cursing, Justus helped himself to some more Angela, taking her tongue and mouth so roughly he knew they’d both have swollen lips and bite marks later.
And then it hit him: he had
no idea what the rest of her tasted like.
Big freaking problem.
Breaking away from the kissing again, he dragged his hands over her cheeks and into her hair, pulling her head back to expose her neck.
“Angela.”
With another low growl, he buried his lips and tongue in the hollow between her collarbones, then ran his mouth up the side of her neck to her ear, scraping his teeth along her tender flesh as he went. She cried out, a wonderful sign of approval and encouragement. He bit her. She dug her sharp little nails into his nape, urging him on while her hands slid his heavy silk tuxedo jacket over his shoulders and down his arms. She undid his shirt buttons and pushed that off too.
He jerked his T-shirt off over his head by himself, too impatient to wait for her to do it.
Angela only got a quick second to admire his gleaming arms and back before he pulled her back in, but she fully intended to check him out in great detail later. For now, it was enough to discover that his skin was as smooth and warm as bath water. Drunk with the freedom and power that came with his gift of carte blanche over his body, she pressed her face into the strong column of his neck and inhaled as much of his spicy scent as her lungs could absorb. She licked him. He groaned.
She laughed, excitement making her giddy and lightheaded.
The sound drove him even wilder.
Grabbing her butt, he stroked her hard, up and down, up and down, grinding her against his heavy erection. Every drop of blood in her body flooded her sex, leaving her knees weak. If he hadn’t been holding her so tightly, she would surely have fallen to the floor in a molten lump of flesh.
But, really.
It was time.
Need made her whimper. Rising impatience made her scratch his back hard enough to leave welts. “Hurry,” she said, panting. “That’s enough fun and games.”
“Agreed.”
Reaching between them, he pressed his hands to her breasts, stroking and molding them with no regard for her expensive dress before searching for the zipper.
“Tell me where the zipper is before I rip your pretty dress,” he demanded.
“I—it’s—” Breathing was hard enough without having to explain that the zipper was cleverly and invisibly sewn into the side of the dress, up under her arm. “I can’t—”
“Forget it.”
Stooping, he slowly slid his hands under her dress and up the insides of her legs to her underwear, which he quickly divested her of. As she stepped out of her panties, the dress slithered back down to her toes. Standing again, he held her black lace panties high for a brief inspection.
“String bikinis?” His eyes glittered and one side of his mouth twisted as he pressed them to his nose and smelled them. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”
“I do what I can.” Clenching her inner muscles to get some relief from her raging arousal, she snatched her panties, dropped them to the floor, and leaned in to kiss him again. “Are you going to talk, or are you going to fuck me?”
He laughed, a wolfish glint in his eyes. The sound was so wicked and earthy it was a wonder she didn’t come on the spot.
“Dirty talk, eh? I was right about what that pretty mouth can do.”
“You’re still talking,” she complained.
“Patience, Duchess,” he said silkily.
Squatting this time, he started at the bottom of her dress again, sliding the silk up her legs and past her sex, to her waist. Then he stood, held the skirt with one hand, and slid the other hand over her butt and between her legs, stroking her from behind.
“Ah, God,” she cried, the room swimming in and out of focus until she gave up and let her head fall back and her eyes drift closed.
“A Brazilian,” he said. “I approve. Actually, I approve of this pussy any way I can get it.”
“Just keep touching me.”
Naturally, he stopped.
She opened her eyes and whimpered a protest until he stooped again and rubbed her—slowly, slowly—from the front. She moaned. Loudly. He knelt and kissed her there, and the world spun away until there was nothing left but his hot tongue and the things it could do to her. Her beleaguered knees finally gave way. She started to collapse, but he had other ideas and clung to her waist as he surged to his feet.
Somehow still holding the hem of her dress up around her waist, he put his hands on her butt and hefted her up. She quickly wrapped her legs around his waist and hung on while he took a couple of steps and set her down on a surface that was cool and hard.
Her kitchen counter, she realized, not that she cared where they did it at this point in the proceedings. The only thing that mattered now was getting the deed done.
Immediately.
Justus was on the same page. He fumbled with the front of his pants, opening them, and she reached for the bulging front of his dark boxer briefs. But the second she touched his hard length, he removed her hand and kissed it.
“Next time,” he said apologetically, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet.
“Just hurry,” she begged, squirming and spreading her legs wide for him. “I need you inside me. Now. Please.”
He moved quickly, ripping a foil package open with his teeth.
Oh, she thought, dazed. Condom. Yes! Good idea.
He sheathed himself and pulled her to the edge of the counter. She angled her hips and he surged inside her, burying himself to the hilt with a hoarse shout of pleasure. The exquisite perfection of his body inside hers, stretching and filling her to the sweet edge of pain, made her breath stop and tears form in her eyes.
They had to pause for a moment to acclimate to each other, and all Angela could do was stare into his tension-filled face and curse herself for a fool for waiting so long for this. He watched her, his chest heaving as he endured his own struggles to get his body under control. She wanted to play it cool and not give him the keys to the kingdom on this very first time out of the gate, but the tight fit and steady pressure on her tender spot made it impossible to stop a dry sob from surging out of her throat. Her face, meanwhile, twisted with the gathering ecstasy, and there was no way to stop it.
“Come here,” he said, pulling her into his arms so that her over-sensitized nipples rubbed up against the unyielding wall of his chest.
“Justus.”
“Hang on.”
Angela wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs—with her strappy stilettos still on her feet—around his waist.
And they both melted down a little bit more.
“Shit,” he muttered on a serrated breath as he pressed his face, which was damp with sweat, into the curve of her shoulder. His muscled arms trembled around her. “Fuck.”
“I know,” she said shakily.
“You don’t know how much I’ve wanted this.”
“Me too. I’m sorry I made us wait so long.”
“You should be.”
She circled her hips experimentally, but he locked his into place, refusing to move with her.
“You’re not ready yet,” he said. “Wait.”
“I’m ready!”
“Wait.”
Planting her palms on the counter, she leaned her head back and tried not to have a full-blown tantrum.
“Please don’t tease me,” she said. “You know I can’t wait. Please don’t do this to me.”
“Do what?” His glittering eyes took up her entire field of vision. As she sat there waiting and trying not to hyperventilate from the pleasure on the one hand and her desperate struggle for air on the other, she wondered if he had any idea how fully he controlled her. That her body was, and probably always would be, his own personal plaything. “What is it you need, Angela?”
“Please move, Jus—”
“Like this?”
With agonizing deliberation, he eased out of her, almost to the tip. “Is that what you want?”
“Yes,” she hissed. “Yes, yes, yes.”
He inched part of the way back inside her, and that was all it
took. She came, spiraling through wave after wave of piercing spasms that threatened to tear her body in half. And she, who had never before made a noise louder than a polite cough in bed, called his name loud enough for the neighbors down the street to hear.
With a throaty rumble of approval, he laid her back and eased on top of her, stretching her out so they both lay, full length, on the counter. He slid his hands under her hips to cup her ass, and she tightened her legs around his waist.
There was the thumping sound of his foot connecting with something hard, and then an explosive wet crash as the champagne bucket hit the floor. Her OCD gene must have died, though, because she couldn’t have cared less with Justus inside her like this, pounding relentlessly as her name poured out of his mouth and his sweat dripped onto her breasts.
She took all he had to give her and gave as much back as she could. To her complete surprise, her sex swelled and tightened again, wanting and demanding more, and she could’ve laughed to think of all the times she’d wondered what was wrong with her because Ronnie could rarely bring her to orgasm, and even then only after ridiculous amounts of foreplay.
But Justus didn’t leave her any time for laughter.
The waves built and crashed over her again, so strong now it was a wonder her head didn’t shoot off her shoulders. She arched backward, pressing her sweaty body closer to his as her mouth opened in a silent scream.
There was a quick glimmer of satisfaction in his bright eyes before he came with a throaty shout and a final thrust. His powerful body shuddered so intensely she thought they’d both drop to the floor in a tangle of slippery arms and legs, but she hung on tight, raking her nails across his back.
At last he stilled, collapsing on top of her but being careful not to crush her with his weight.
The world faded to black.
After a minute, though, when she’d started to catch her breath and the counter had started to get hard and uncomfortable, she grinned. Then laughed with absolute gusto. Embarrassed, she threw her hand over her eyes, but nothing, apparently, would shut her up.
Risk (It's Complicated Book 2) Page 26