by Susan Fox
He squeezed his eyes shut, fighting for control. Kat was such a turn-on. But what he really wanted was to turn her on. To make love to her in a way that showed her how beautiful she was. How special to him. How lovable.
Trying to forget his own driving need, he eased his mouth from hers and trailed kisses across her cheek and over to her ear, where he circled and teased with his tongue. Then slowly he tracked soft, damp lip prints down her neck, coupled with flicks of his tongue against skin that quivered at his touch.
He swirled his tongue in the pulse-point hollow at the base of her throat, then continued down, unable to resist the lure of her lovely breasts. First, the soft creamy upper curves, then rosy areolas puckered with arousal. Then raspberry pink nipples, begging to be sucked.
“So beautiful,” he murmured. On his knees again, his hands at her waist to steady her, he took one nipple in his mouth, applying soft, rhythmic pressure. Suck and release, suck and release. He scraped his teeth gently across the engorged bud, then soothed it with his tongue.
“Oh, God,” Kat whispered. “Oh, yes.” She gripped his shoulders and her torso arched back. Under his hands, her skin rippled with each jerky breath she took.
He moved to her other breast, lavishing it with the same attention.
“I can’t believe how good that feels,” she said breathlessly. Focused on sensation, she was speaking English now.
He slid a hand across the front of her tiny panties. Felt the springy curls of her bush pressing against the thin silk. Then the plump firmness of her mound. Then his fingers stroked the soaking wet fabric between her legs, and she let out a whimper of pleasure.
Nav wanted to whimper, too, partly from the joy of being with her like this and partly from the painful pressure in his groin.
Abandoning her breast, he kissed his way downward, dipping his tongue into her navel, moving across her quivering belly and then the front of her panties. The heady musk of her arousal drew him on until he was kissing her sex through a layer of moist silk.
She shuddered and widened her stance, allowing him better access, thrusting her groin into his face, body telegraphing her need. Her fingers bit into his shoulders as she struggled to stay upright.
He licked back and forth, then in circles, tongue pressing the fabric against her swollen flesh. Firmly, to give her maximum stimulation. Then lightly, to tease her. Then harder again.
“Oh, yes,” she panted. “More. So good.” Heat rose off her, and she wriggled against his tongue.
He circled the hard nub of her clit with his lips and breathed hot, moist air on it. Because of the barrier of her panties, he couldn’t take it in his mouth, but he flicked his tongue across it, strumming it.
“Oh, God!” She gasped, tensed, froze.
He imagined how she felt. The pressure building inside. Waiting for him to give her the final stimulus to tip her over the edge.
He firmed his tongue, flicked it harder. Then once more.
She came apart. In surging pulses against his mouth. In a high, wordless cry of elation.
He almost did, too. It took every ounce of self-control not to join her.
Then he realized her legs were trembling so hard she might fall. He rose quickly and pulled her into his embrace.
Kat clung, head sagging against his shoulder, chest heaving, struggling to breathe.
He stood rigidly, fighting the need to strip off their underwear and thrust into her. To the hilt.
She raised her head, eyes dazed, and lifted a shaky hand to drag it through her hair. Her cheeks were flushed, dewy. “Wow. That was something.”
“Only the beginning.” It was an effort to remember to speak in French. “I think it’s time we tried out that bed.”
“Bed,” she echoed, speaking French now, too. Then her eyes widened, sharpened, her gaze jerked to the window. “Oh, my God!” Her body clamped itself more tightly against his as if she could hide in his arms. “I can’t believe we did that in full view of—What were we thinking?”
“I was thinking it was sexy. How about you?”
“I wasn’t thinking about anything except how good it felt. But now…”
Nav couldn’t wait any longer. He lifted her and strode toward the bedroom.
He’d barely registered the searing imprint of her curvy body against his near-naked one before he was tossing her onto the turned-down bed and reaching for one of the condoms he’d left on the bedside table. In one swift motion, he ripped the package open. Then he yanked down his underwear and sheathed himself.
Kat had arranged herself on the bed, still wearing those pink panties. With a hand behind her head and one knee up, her pose said, “Look at me,” but right now he wasn’t into looking.
He needed to be inside her.
She must have seen the fierce determination on his face, because she gasped, then spread her legs in invitation.
He fitted his body between them and captured her lips in a searing kiss. With one hand he yanked aside the crotch of her panties, and then he plunged inside her without an iota of finesse.
There. Deep inside Kat. That’s where he’d wanted to be since that first day in the hall.
He held still a moment, savoring the bliss of it. But the way her heated channel gripped him, her moan of pleasure, the knowledge that this was the woman he loved, all combined in an irresistible urge to move.
Now. Hard. Fast. Deep.
In and out, relentlessly, as the pressure built at the base of his spine, as his balls tightened and drew up.
Their mouths parted, both of them panting, making wordless sounds.
He reached between their bodies, found her slippery, swollen clit. Stroked it urgently. Heard her cry out. Felt her body spasm as he plunged into her core and exploded in a climax that almost took off the top of his head.
When the jerky spasms finally ended, he collapsed on top of her. Barely conscious—was any oxygen getting to his brain?—he managed to take some of his weight on his knees and arms so he didn’t crush her.
Under him, her body heaved as she, too, struggled to get air. Finally, she lifted a hand and stroked his back. “That was amazing.”
“Oui, vraiment.” A smile curved his lips. “Not exactly elegant, but effective.”
She chuckled. “Definitely effective.”
He studied her face. Eyes closed, a grin of smug satisfaction.
He rolled off her and went to deal with the condom. Then he retrieved the champagne bottle and glasses from the sitting room. “Sit up.”
She opened her eyes. “Oh, yum, champagne.” She raised up, shoving pillows behind her back, and took the glass he offered. A sip. A happy sigh. “Mmm, sex makes me thirsty.”
“Me, too.” He sat on the edge of the bed beside her. He sipped from his own glass, then tilted it so a trickle of bubbly golden wine spilled onto her stomach.
“Hey, what are you doing? That’s too expensive to waste.”
“Believe me, it won’t be wasted.” Now he’d satisfied his immediate sexual hunger, he wanted to get back to worshipping her.
He put the glass on the cabinet by the bed, then bent over her. Though her arms, legs, and face were lightly tanned from the June sun, her stomach was pale in the warm lamplight. Private skin, exposed to his eyes only.
He licked, tasting champagne and a slight saltiness, tracing the trail of drops to where wine had pooled in her navel. When he lapped it out, she giggled, shifted, murmured, “Ticklish.”
Lifting the glass again, he held it over her pelvis. “Don’t want to get those panties wet. Maybe you should take them off.”
“Like they’re not already wet.” She slid the scrap of pink down her shapely legs.
Nav didn’t see where she tossed it, he was absorbed in the perfection of the view revealed by her spread legs: a nest of neatly trimmed auburn curls and the slick, pouty lips of her sex.
Lovely. Utterly feminine. And he’d been inside there.
When he drizzled a stream of bubbles onto her belly, he
hoped she didn’t notice his hand was shaking. Her beauty, her trust, the intimacy, all stunned him. While he had fantasized countless times about making love with Kat, and had hoped his strangers-on-a-train plan would succeed, it was almost impossible to believe this was real.
Maybe he was dreaming. If so, he intended to enjoy every second before he woke up. Though his body was again heating to arousal, he was more interested in savoring her and making this special for her.
Again he bent to lap droplets of champagne, and this time he caressed her with his fingers, too. Combing through the springy curls of hair, cupping her fleshy mound, he hoped she could sense she was being cherished.
With other women, he’d had recreational sex. Enjoyable, mutual, even caring. But with Kat, this was all about his love for her.
“I’m being lazy,” she murmured. “Tell me what you’d like.”
“This. Exactly this.”
When he touched his tongue to the swollen folds between her legs, her juices were sweeter than the wine. The taste of her sexual arousal, an arousal he’d created, was ambrosia.
Letting her response guide him, he licked the sensitive folds, at first gently, then flattening his tongue to apply firmer pressure as she writhed and pressed against him. Then he eased a finger inside her, and another. He stroked and circled, feeling the texture of her secret flesh.
Her hips lifted. “I can’t stand it.”
Unable to tell if that choked cry was pain or pleasure, he slid his fingers out.
“No!” she protested. “More.”
He thrust in again, three fingers this time, and felt her walls grip him, pulse around him.
Now he did what he hadn’t been able to through her panties. He laved her swollen clit with his tongue, then sucked it gently into his mouth.
She arched. “Yes, oh, yes!”
Her thighs gripped his head; her hips thrashed; she pressed herself against his face.
Still thrusting with his fingers, he held her tiny, sensitive clit carefully between his lips. Applying suction around it, he flicked his tongue across the tip. Back and forth, faster and faster.
With a shout, she climaxed, sweet and wet and pulsing against his mouth.
Chapter 8
Helpless in the grip of a shattering climax, I clutched the sheet below me with both hands and rode the waves that crashed through my body.
And through all of it, he held me.
What a rare, generous lover he was. That was twice that he, his cock hard and thick with arousal, had put my satisfaction first. “Hey.” My voice came out husky. “Come kiss me.”
His head lifted, a smile quirking his full lips. “I thought I was.”
“Oh, yeah. And very nicely, too. But now I want—” I broke off at the thought of what I really wanted from him.
“What do you want, Kat?” Gleaming dark eyes challenged me.
“I want to feel you inside me again. It’s so good.”
His eyes squeezed shut for a moment, the angles of his face almost harsh as if he was gripped by a strong emotion. Then he was moving, shifting lithely from the cramped position he’d been in.
He’d given me gentle lovemaking, and he’d given me vigorous passion. Right now, his tender ministrations had whetted my appetite for passion. I doubted he’d object.
Grabbing the box of condoms on the bedside cabinet, I said, “Now. I want you now.” I pulled out a package and tossed it to him. “Hard and fast.”
Surprise lit his face, made him fumble the catch so he had to use both hands to secure the condom package. “Hard and fast?”
“Don’t you want to?”
He swallowed, muscles in his throat rippling. A fire lit his eyes. “Hell, yeah.” With quick motions he ripped open the packet and sheathed himself.
I’d barely spread my legs wider when he covered my body with his.
I gasped at the contact. He was so muscular, so hot, so purely male. My arms circled him and I stroked his back, caressed his taut butt.
When he kissed me, I responded hungrily. Lips, tongues, teeth met, dueled, clashed, mated in a frenzied dance.
His cock plunged inside me in one sure, forceful stroke that made me cry out with pleasure against his mouth. I’d asked for hard and fast, and that’s what he was giving me.
Clinging to him, I met each thrust with one of my own, drawing him deeper, urging him to move faster, ever faster. And all the time we were kissing, mouths mashing together with desperate fervor.
That pre-orgasmic achy need built inside me, demanding release.
He tore his mouth from mine. Gasped, “Slow down, Kat. You’ll make me come.”
“I want you to.” I gripped his butt harder, not letting him stop. “I want us to come together. Now.”
“Jesus!” His eyes were wild, impassioned.
He let go in powerful strokes that hit every sensitive spot, plunged to my very core, drew everything inside me to one point of pure, focused sensation. Sensation where pain and pleasure mingled so closely, I couldn’t separate them. But I couldn’t stay there long. I couldn’t survive it.
Then he gave one final thrust, a guttural cry of triumph, and took me over the edge. I exploded at the same moment he jerked and spasmed inside me. Both our climaxes seemed to go on forever.
My legs were weak and trembling when I managed to unhook them from around him. They fell heavily to the bed. I sank into the mattress, and he collapsed on top of me as he’d done before. Still inside me. Both of us panting as if we’d run a marathon.
He managed to hoist himself on his elbows, and then planted a kiss on my lips. “My God.”
“Yeah.” My chest heaved as I tried to find breath. “Wow.”
“You’re amazing.”
“You, too,” I told him.
“I wanted to make it last longer.”
“I wanted it hard and fast.”
He chuckled. “I noticed. And it felt damn good.”
Gradually our breathing slowed.
“I’m too heavy,” he said.
“You’re not.” He felt perfect. With his knees and forearms taking much of his weight, he wasn’t heavy. Just firm, hot, sexy. Smelling a little of sandalwood and a lot of sex. If someone bottled that scent, lots more men would be getting lucky.
“Sorry, but I need to deal with the condom.” As he pulled out of me and rolled off, I resented the necessity, the intrusion of practicality into this sexy adventure.
On the other hand, as he strolled naked toward the bathroom, I got to appreciate the rear view. What a perfect male back, from the broad shoulders to the narrow waist, lean hips, breathtakingly tight butt…
Oh, God, I’d had sex with Nav. It was the butt that brought me back to reality. Nav’s butt, naked. As fabulous as I’d imagined it to be.
I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed my hands over them. No, no, no. This wasn’t the time to think about Nav.
The man in this ritzy hotel suite, the one who’d bought Belle Epoque champagne, who wore a flashy diamond ring on his manicured hand, was Pritam.
The man who’d seduced me into climaxing in front of all of Toronto, then fucked me senseless in a king-size bed, was Pritam.
From the bathroom, I heard the toilet flush, water run.
Quickly I sat upright, drained my glass of champagne, and clicked off the bedside lamp. Enough light seeped in from the sitting room so I could see to refill my glass. And his. The glass from which he’d dripped champagne onto me. Then licked it off.
Pritam had done that. Pritam, the Bollywood producer. The man with clean-shaven cheeks and a Piaget watch.
I drank more champagne, slugging it back rather than giving it the appreciation it deserved. Life had gone topsy-turvy, and I had no clue how to deal with it. But excellent champagne could only help.
The bathroom door opened. And now I regretted having turned off the light, because I didn’t have a crystal-clear view as he walked, with that confident athletic stride, across the bedroom and into the sitting room.
He poured water into a glass and offered it. “Want a drink?” The Parisian French was Pritam’s.
“Thanks, but I’m happy with the champagne.” Actually, I realized I was exhausted. Satiated, worn out from both stress and pleasure. Maybe a little tipsy. A gigantic yawn shuddered through me and, too late, I tried to cover my mouth.
He chuckled and took my flute glass from me. “Lie down.”
“I should go.” But not quite yet. I yawned again and slid down in the bed. Mmm, the pillow was so soft. My eyes slid shut.
Dimly I was aware of him lying beside me and gathering me close so my head rested on his shoulder, and tucking covers around us.
Of his kiss on the top of my head.
I should leave. Couldn’t spend the night here. I’d get up in a moment, but right now I was too tired. Too content.
I woke in the darkness with a champagne headache and a parched mouth.
And a male arm wrapped around me. What? I was lying in bed in the dark with a man. A man who smelled of sex and sandalwood.
Oh, my God. Pritam. Nav. What had I done?
Gingerly, I extracted myself from under his arm. He stirred and made a grumbly sound. No, no, no. I didn’t want him to wake up, didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to make love.
I held my breath as he rolled over and settled back into sleep. His hair had come loose from the band that had held it back. Black curls—Nav’s—tumbled across the white pillowcase.
Shit. Maybe my headache wasn’t from wine, maybe it was pure stress.
I couldn’t stay here. Couldn’t wake up beside him in the morning. I needed distance, a chance to work things through in my head. Once it stopped aching.
I slipped cautiously out of bed and tiptoed out to the sitting room.