Because in the next instant he grimaced, sucked in a harsh breath of air and went down. Landing in a slightly undignified heap on the side of the bed. Thankfully not making the floor from his height, but the pain that crossed his features was enough to tell me that he was seriously hurt.
"Where?" I demanded, running my hands over his upper body searching for wounds.
I had no idea I was touching him until his hands stilled mine, wrapping around my wrists. My eyes came up to his amused - no longer pained, I might add - face.
"Dancer," he whispered. "You've gotta stop that."
"Stop what?" I asked, purposely being obtuse.
"Touching me. All of me," he explained and I glanced at where my hands currently were.
OK. So he had a point. Considering I'd covered his upper torso, made it past his impressive abs, and was at present, resting my hands on the insides of each of his thighs.
"Well," I said, still not moving, but that wasn't really my fault. Eric was holding my hands very firmly, right where they were, thank you very much. "That's embarrassing," I muttered.
He started chuckling, and for some reason I wanted to join him. Hands still firmly where they were, me leaning over his semi reclined body on top of the bed. I purposely kept my eyes away from his crotch, which happened to be only a few centimetres away from my fingertips.
And now I was blushing profusely and tingling had started in my fingers. The urge to shift, to move that last distance, to touch, all consuming. Oh, and now I was looking between his legs.
Searching for something to say to distract him, or me, who knows, I blurted, "Did Jaxon kick you in the balls?" Maybe, I could have chosen a better distraction.
"Pardon?" he asked, the laughing now stopped.
I chewed on my lip. "I heard him kick you," I murmured, my eyes darting left, right, all over the room. Anywhere but the bulge in his pants.
"My ribs," he said slowly. "Or it could have been my head."
My eyes flicked up to his face, noticing the bruising for the first time. His stubble had hidden most of it, but now I knew to look for it, I could see it plain as day.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
"Don't apologise," he shot back. "Not ever, but especially not right now."
"Right now?" I asked, this time not having to play dumb at all.
He moved one of my hands. The undamaged one. My eyes still locked on his. Neither of us looking away as he guided it, purposefully, to his erection. Sensations that I couldn't even identify thrummed through my body, setting my heart on fire inside my chest. Making breathing difficult, and superfluous, especially right then.
Who needed to breathe when you were having an out of body experience?
I shook, a trembling starting up in my toes, spiralling upwards, culminating between my thighs, making me sure my legs would give out, unable to hold my shaking weight. I shifted, pressed my thighs together and let out a decidedly sexy moan.
"Huh," Ric breathed, like he'd been sucker-punched. "Fuck," he added.
And then I rubbed. A slow glide of my palm up and then down his arousal. His very substantial, very hard, very long arousal.
It was me who moved. Eric was momentarily stunned immobile. I thought, briefly, well what did he expect? Placing my hand there, introducing me to that. And then all thought left my brain. Completely. If I was truly capable of thinking, would I have done what I was doing?
I pushed lightly against his chest with my bandaged hand, making him lie back down on the mattress. His legs partially hung over the edge of the bed, and he was lying on it at an angle, but neither of us complained when I positioned myself straddling his hips.
Hot breath rushed out of Ric's parted lips even as his hands found my waist and pulled me snug against him. His erection ran up my centre, both of us still fully dressed, but the sensation of all that pulsing hot and hard length was still phenomenal. I writhed, a small shift of my hips, a steady rub of my centre against his. He jerked beneath me, rocked with me, and then reached up, cupped my neck, and pulled me down onto his chest, pressing his lips to mine.
I opened immediately, welcoming his tongue as it surged in. Rolling mine around and around, sucking on his lips, while I rocked on his body, giving the best lap dance I think I had ever seen, certainly the best I had felt. He let my mouth go so he could watch me. His eyes almost glazed in desire, but his attention riveted to the show. I wanted him to touch me, but he still hadn't shifted his hands.
So, I worked harder. My body rolling sinuously above him to a beat that we both seemed to hear inside our heads. His hands remaining over my hips, one minute firm, the next gentle. And then I realised he was plucking up courage, or simply waiting for me to come to my senses and stop him perhaps. Because when I didn't, his hands finally moved.
Up my sides, over my breasts, then back down again, leaving me wanting, until it became apparent he wasn't done with me yet. My shirt came off, over my head and thrown to the side, and then his hands were on my front clasping bra and the clip came undone.
I moaned when skin hit skin, his big palms fondling and cupping, rubbing and squeezing, then he was up off the bed, a grimace of pain at the movement, and hot lips wrapped around my nipple. A bite, a lick to soothe, and then he sucked. Deep, hard draws timed to match the rhythm we had established where we rocked.
I arched my head back, let the glorious sensations wash over me, closed my eyes and gripped Ric's hair. Nothing existed but this moment. This heady, surreal, but so delicious moment. I rocked and rubbed, he sucked and nibbled, and when I thought I'd go mad if I didn't have more, his lips trailed over my breast, up my chest, and along the side of my neck, until his mouth reached my ear.
"Stop me," he murmured, still meeting each rock of my hips with a thrust of his own. "Amber, sweetheart. Stop me now or I'm going to screw you senseless, right here. Right in this room. Right now."
I sucked in a breath, still desperately writhing, as his arms wrapped around me holding me tight to his chest, each thrust of his hips making my breasts rub erotically over the thin fabric of his t-shirt. Stop? Was he mad? I couldn't ask him to stop this.
"Don't stop," I panted. "Please don't stop."
He growled, rolled us over, so my back was pressed to the bed, and slipped a leg between my thighs, rubbing intimately.
"God help me," he murmured. "I'm going straight to hell for taking advantage of you like this."
A huff of laughter left me. Silly man. Didn't he know?
It was me taking advantage of him.
Chapter 18
Remember When I Told You In Some Things I Am Very, Very Bad?
I became sexually aware at a young age. I knew what my body did to men from the moment I started to grow breasts at twelve. I also was aware of how far my body could get me. Not that I used it to gain favour, unless, of course, I liked the guy. Or I was dancing around a pole to pay my bills. I was not above flirtations, something I hadn't partaken of since starting to date Jaxon. But up until then I was a sexually assertive woman. I knew my body. I knew how to work it. And I wasn't afraid to try.
Ric was having doubts. I could tell. The fervour had dimmed, his conscience had come calling. And it made me fall a little harder just knowing he had one, just knowing his hesitation was because he actually cared.
But my body was having none of that.
I'd always been horny most when I'd cracked a particularly complicated line of code. That elation you feel after accomplishing something you thought was impossible. That thrill that singes your synapses and flushes adrenaline through your veins. Well, now I could add escaping a psychopathic killer and fighting for my life as a turn on too.
So many emotions had tumbled through my mind, so many fears and outright frights had racked my body with adrenaline. And I needed to work that off. Add in the unbelievably - and surprisingly - sexy body of a man who I had called friend and fantasied about for three years, then have him rescue me, fight to the death almost to help me, and then show such obviou
s attraction, and we were both screwed.
In the most pleasurable of ways.
But I was losing him. And I couldn't have that.
We'd rolled again in the ensuing tumble of legs and limbs and now I was back on top. So I stood up, using my abdominals to effect the motion, making my breasts perk up as my chest thrust out and my butt curve away enticingly. Ric's eyes widened, as he frantically tried to decide where to look first.
I contained the smirk and started to unbutton my jeans. Ric went to say something and I held up a finger and shook my head.
For a weighted second I thought he would tell me to stop. I thought he was about to call the entire thing off. So I shimmied out of my jeans, using every trick I had to make the move look good.
He rested back on his elbows, cocked his head to the side, and smiled.
I had him back.
There was no music to dance to, so I kept my motions fluid, but not contrived. A nervous flutter in my belly telling me this was anything but a staged performance and instead the real deal.
For so long now I have not felt the real deal.
I paused, as my thumbs looped into the band of my lacy knickers and realised that was why Ric had hesitated too. This was real. Not a game. Not a moment to force a connection. But bare bones, heart laid open at your feet, real.
I'd never felt so alive before. So in charge of my body, my destiny. I wanted this man for more reasons than just the heightened level of adrenaline rushing through my veins. I wanted him.
RiC3.1415. My Ric. Eric Shaw.
Naked, I stood before him and let him take his fill. He rubbed a hand over his mouth, his eyes flowing over my body, soaking me up with just one lust-filled look.
"Perfect," he whispered. His eyes landing back on mine. The fact he could do that, look at me, and not just my body, was thrilling. More exhilarating than I had ever felt in my life.
"Now," he said, voice steady but warm. "Strip me."
It wasn't a request I'd ever had before. I'd always been the one performing the striptease. For someone else. My fingers tingled and twitched with anticipation. Without delay I crawled up the side of his body, kneeling next to his upper thigh, and reached for the waistband of his sweat pants.
His eyes held mine for a second, a depth of vulnerability there that scared me. And then it was gone. Had I even seen it? He lifted his hips, so I tugged both the trackies and his boxers down his legs.
He had nice legs. Thick thighs and bulging muscles, wrapped up in the scratch of coarse black hairs. But I couldn't study him too closely right then, I needed the rest of his clothes off.
He watched me like a hawk. But then when I reached the hem of his t-shirt I wondered if I was the hawk and he was my prey. Something made me hesitate, rather than rip the offending garment cleanly off. It could have been his fast respirations, which initially I'd thought was due to arousal and nothing else. It could have been the thin layer of perspiration that had graced a suddenly slightly paler face.
It could have just been the image inside my head of an exhausted, beaten man doing what he had to do for survival.
I held his gaze for a suspended moment, then pulled the t-shirt off over his head. He helped by curling his abs, raising his shoulders, another grimace of pain crossing his features, before he hid it behind a mask.
The bruises he'd sustained in the fight with Jaxon should have made it difficult to see anything else. But I knew there was more. That fucking picture remembered in exacting detail inside my head. Coupled with his reaction just now, it all started to make sense.
Ric was covered in scars.
He hadn't just been hurt for a long length of time to exhaust him. He'd been tortured.
My heart broke, my breath escaped in a mortified gasp. He lay still as I catalogued those marks I could see. First with my eyes. Then leaning forward, I used a finger, tracing each and every single one, vowing to seek retribution if he hadn't already. Knowing he would have killed each and every one of the people who did this to him by now. A gut clenching knowledge that was based on nothing more but the emotions I'd seen on his face in that image on Jaxon's computer screen.
My eyes flicked up, seeing pain and a hardened survival in every shadow that graced that beautiful green.
Still holding his gaze, my face dipped to his chest and I began kissing every single mark I could find.
"Amber," Ric rasped, once I'd done one complete circuit of the front of his body and was thinking about rolling him over to start on the back. I knew there'd be more, but I was also aware he'd started to tremble. A small shudder to his entire frame.
I didn't answer him, I just wrapped my hand around his shaft, stroking him harder with each pass of my palm down the long length. Swiping my thumb almost greedily over the flat head beading with pre-come.
He groaned, which was a good sign, I didn't want this to end with either of us backing out now. I needed this. And so did Ric.
My lips replaced my hand and I sucked him in as deeply as I could manage, receiving a satisfying cry of surprise and the sudden presence of his hands in my hair. Initially he just rested them there, a connection he seemed to need, on top of the one where my mouth almost swallowed him whole. Almost, but nowhere near. The guy was growing bigger even now, and he'd already been big.
But he soon started to exert a small amount of pressure on my skull, while thrusting up with his hips to bury himself as deep as he could between my lips. The sounds he made were electrifying. Losing himself in me. Shedding the past, living in the present. Letting my acceptance fill a part of him I was sure had been empty until then.
"Dancer," he husked, wrapping fingers under my chin and pulling me off him. "I need you."
Not I want you, but I could see the desire there. I need you. Somehow that meant more.
I nodded and sat back upright, getting ready to straddle him again.
He met my gaze, staring right into me. Stripping us both bare.
"I will never hold you if you don't wish to be held," he said, still looking deep into my eyes. "But you need to know."
I sat back on my haunches and waited for the anvil to drop.
"I'm already there, sweetheart." My brow furrowed, not quite getting his meaning. "I'm gone," he added, still not making any sense. He smiled, seeing my confusion. "Once I get inside you I'll be lost." Oh, my God. "I'm counting on you to hold me and never let go. OK?"
What do you say to that? For someone who has been trapped by the obsession of another there could be no greater gift. I could tell Ric wanted to pounce. To hold me down and bury himself inside me and to never, ever let the fuck go. I could tell. I've seen enough men look at me in a similar way to his to know.
But what they lacked he had in spades. Knowledge of entrapment. Experience of imprisonment. And my wellbeing forefront in his mind, possibly even his heart. Yeah, I think, looking at him right now, I could say that. Make the leap. Mention hearts.
Ric knew me. He knew the me on-line in those chat-rooms, through the multitude of private conversations we'd had. And now he knew the me who had run from the monster and did what I needed to do to survive.
He knew me and I was beginning to see I knew him as well.
"OK," I said, holding his gaze as I nodded my head. "But you should know something as well."
He raised an eyebrow, but waited for me to go on.
"I'm already yours," I whispered, feeling the weight of the words, hearing the truth.
I'd been his from the day he'd first typed, What R U wearing? I just hadn't realised until I met the man face to face, and looked into those stunning green eyes.
I moved to straddle his hips, stroking his hard silken flesh under my hand. He sank back into the covers of the bed, looked up at me as though I was his angel, and let a breath of air out that felt as though it was the last padlocked chain unravelling on a door.
"Ride me, Amber," he growled, lifting his arms and placing his hands under his head. He looked like a king lying back in his bed chamber waiti
ng to be pleasured by his queen.
I lifted a leg and settled myself above him, hand back around the circumference of this thick length.
"Condom?" I asked, cocking my head.
"I'm clean," he whispered back.
"So am I," I answered immediately. "But Jax..."
"In the pocket of my track pants," he interrupted, clearly not wanting to hear another man's name.
I smirked. I couldn't help it. Reaching for his trackies I asked, "Just in case, huh?"
A rumble started in his chest.
"You, me, a bed in a room I know to be safe. It seemed a good idea at the time."
"I'm not arguing," I countered, ripping the pack open and then rolling the condom on. He sucked in a sharp breath of air at my returning touch and the sensation of his cock being sheathed.
Which was nothing to the sound he made when I swiftly positioned him and sank down his full length, taking his hard, thick shaft right to the base.
"Jesus, fuck!" he breathed out, his hands on my hips in a flash as he rocked back up the second I'd risen onto my knees. "Don't you dare fucking lose me," he added, and I wondered if he was just referring to his cock inside my pussy right now, or the fact that he wanted me to hold onto him.
It didn't matter, within seconds I'd stopped thinking. Only feeling and doing and seeking and panting and gasping and moaning and pleading for more.
"Ric," I cried out as the first orgasm hit me, rolled through my entire body in an undulating wave. I felt changed, in a way I hadn't expected.
I realised that it meant so much more when you were with someone you loved.
And then I realised I'd said love inside my head.
Something of my shock must have showed on my face because in the next instant I was on my back and Ric was pounding into me, cupping my cheeks, staring into my soul and not letting me see or hear or think of anything else, but this moment, him and me, and the way our bodies came together in mesmerising harmony.
"Perfect," he rasped, thrusting harder and faster, the angle slightly off centre but I couldn't figure out if that was intentional or not.
Sweet Seduction Stripped (Sweet Seduction, Book 7) Page 14