Her Last Chance

by Michele Albert

  Within moments, he’d determined she wore no bra. All he had to do was slip a strap off her shoulder and he would finally know, after months of fleeting daydreams, the taste and feel of her breasts.

  As if following his thoughts, Claudia’s fingernails sank into his shoulder muscles, the sharpness registering even through his shirt and suit coat, and then she had his coat off and began working on his tie.

  Remembering what she’d said about his tie, he grabbed her wrists, forced her around, and then used his greater weight and height to back her into the wall. Her eyes widened as she bumped against it—harder than he’d intended—but the laugh that followed held an undeniable note of triumph.

  Heat and need dampened her skin as well as his own; the cotton of his shirt was clinging, constraining. He wanted it gone, but once his shirt was off and her dress was down to her waist, there’d be no stopping this.

  “You have condoms?” Claudia asked when he gave her a moment to breathe. “Because if you don’t, I—”

  “I’m good,” he said, roughly.

  “Oh, I’m sure you will be,” she responded, as close to a purr as any human could go.

  Desire and need narrowed everything down to the feel of her skin against his, her heat, her scent. He had her dress off in seconds, leaving her pinned to the wall in only a thong and thigh-high stockings, looking like every man’s late-night fantasy.

  Only this was all real: her excited breathing, the pain of her long nails as she roughly undid his shirt buttons. He shrugged clear of his shirt, then shifted his grip and hoisted her higher, bringing her breasts close.

  Full and round, with large, dark nipples pinched in tight tips, just begging for his attention.

  “Do it,” she urged, arching her back. “C’mon!”

  “Who’s begging now?” He took a nipple between his teeth, rolling and tugging as she gasped and arched. Her nails closed over his shoulders hard enough to leave marks, but he barely noticed, flicking his tongue along the sensitive, aroused peaks, then sucking and nipping until she started banging her head against the wall.

  He hoped no one was home next door, because they were about to make a lot of noise.

  Vincent let her slide downward, taking her mouth again, and she went to work on his pants. The belt hit the carpet with a thump, then the zipper was down and she slipped her hand inside his boxers.

  He squeezed his eyes so tight he practically saw stars, swearing against her wet lips as she lightly scored her nails up along his erection. He ached to get inside her, hardly able to think of anything else, but remained just aware enough to know it was time to slow down and give her more attention.

  “Back pocket,” he said, slipping a finger beneath the thong and following the moist trail to her hottest spot. “Get it.”

  It took a little maneuvering, and her surprisingly girlish giggle turned to a low hum of pleasure as his finger slid deeper within her, but she managed to snag his wallet and helped him with the condom, all without tipping them both over.

  “Hold on to my shoulders,” he ordered, hooking a hand around her hips for a firmer grip.

  She grabbed and held on as he worked his fingers in and out of her, slowly at first, then fast and deep, his thumb sliding along her clit until he could hear her breathing increase and feel the trembles of approaching orgasm in the muscles of her arms and legs.

  She came hard with a high, sharp gasp, and he didn’t let up, even when she started squirming, coaxing her to another orgasm fast on the first, until she was panting and straining.

  Then he turned his attention back to her breasts, gently biting and sucking as he continued to caress her, easing her to the heights of need again. He took his time, despite his own overwhelming urge to pound into her, until he sensed she was close again.

  “Vincent . . . in me . . . I want you in me now!”

  Perfect timing. He stripped off her thong, pushed her back against the wall, spreading her wider, and she grabbed him and helped him find his way inside.

  Again his eyes closed and he sucked in his breath, concentrating on the tight feel of her surrounding him, savoring the slick heat. Then he began moving. Shallow, teasing thrusts for as long as he could stand it, her rapid breathing urging him to a faster pace. Her hips met his eagerly, and no matter how much he wanted this to last and last, he could already feel the tension tightening to a knot, straining for release.

  Her moaning grew louder, gasping at each thrust. “Harder . . . all the way, all the way!”

  He barely heard her as he thrust harder and faster, her heels knocking against the wall in a matching frenzy, and then he knew nothing but the spurting release, muscles tight with the effort, jerking against her, all of him centered in one powerful sensation for one short moment as he came. She was still working toward it, and he continued grinding against her, panting with the effort, until she finally followed with a strangled, between-clenched-teeth “Fuck, yes . . . yes!”

  Then it was over. In the silence that followed, their breathing sounded unnaturally loud. He heard the blare of a TV close by, the volume turned way up. Claudia noticed at the same moment, and her eyes widened as she bit her lower lip.

  “I sure hope there were no kids next door.”

  Still inside her, Vincent laughed softly. “A little late to worry about that. We’re lucky no one banged on the door and told us to shut up.”

  “I was trying to be quiet.”

  “That was quiet?” He kissed her and then, as she settled closer against him, rested his forehead on hers. “I can’t wait to get you someplace more private and hear you let go.”

  “I think I bruised my heels. Maybe my head, too.”

  “The bed, then,” he said, easing her down to the floor. He stepped back, admiring her, feeling himself hardening again. “God, you’re beautiful.”

  “So every man has said, since the dawn of time, to every woman he manages to get naked.”

  “I mean it.”

  “I know.” Her gaze roamed over his own body, lingering on his dick, and she smiled slowly as it began to arch toward her. “And I know what you want.”

  “Can’t hide it,” he said, then grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the bed. He yanked down the coverlet and top sheet, then fell backward onto the mattress, pulling her down with him.

  Being on top clearly met with her approval, and she took him firmly in her hand, guiding him inside her once again. He grabbed her hips, helping set the rhythm, mesmerized by the bounce of her breasts as she worked him, sometimes driving up and down, other times circling her hips, rising and falling.

  With the first pounding, impatient rush of need taken care of, he could stretch out the pleasure this time. Claudia was clearly thinking along the same lines, teasing him with her movements, but she blew his control when she touched herself, one long, red fingernail stroking her clitoris as she squeezed her nipple with her other hand, tongue tracing her lips, watching him.

  He shuddered, trying to hold on, but the orgasm hit with blinding speed as he yanked her hips down, his own pumping to meet her grinding, and then it spun him down and down, one trembling release after another, lasting longer than any he’d ever known before. It left him gasping and sweating, staring at her in amazement.

  “Jesus,” he finally managed to say. “Jesus.”

  “Mmmm, it was so, so good.” Claudia flopped down beside him, rubbing her hand along his sweat-slick chest. “Nothing better than a man who cares enough to give a girl multiple orgasms. If I had any brains, I’d fall in love with you on the spot.”

  “Yeah,” he muttered. “I’m beginning to understand why some men are so hot to get married. A guy finds someone like you, he’s not going to want to give it up. Exclusive rights sound real good.”

  “I think that might be a bit sexist, DeLuca.”

  “I don’t think sex this good cares about being politically correct. It just wants more, as often as possible.”

  She checked him out. “Not yet, looks like.”
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br />   “Give me a minute. My heart’s still trying to remember how to beat right.”

  “I think we’re gonna need another rubber.”

  “A lot, if I get lucky.”

  Vincent hooked his arm around her and pulled her against him, pleasantly surprised when she snuggled tight. He hadn’t pegged her as the snuggling sort. He didn’t think she’d be the kind to immediately roll out of bed and run for the bathroom, but . . . Ah, hell, he never knew what to expect with Claudia.

  They lay in comfortable silence for a while until Vincent rolled up onto his elbow to look down at her.

  She really was beautiful. Not the waiflike, blond kind of beauty of Hollywood and fashion magazines. She was tall, lithe and muscled; he could see the tendons, the tone, beneath the smooth brown skin. Her hips were womanly, her breasts natural and on the smallish side when not pushed up to aggressive heights by an underwire bra. She had faint wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, a few scars, a mouth made for kissing and smiling, big, dark eyes a man could lose himself in, and her hair was completely, totally messed and he’d had a hand in that.

  “It’s okay to touch,” Claudia said, her amused voice breaking his smug thoughts. “I don’t mind the looking, but touching is much nicer.”

  “I was thinking where to begin,” Vincent said, returning her lazy smile.

  “Mmmm, do you need any help in deciding?”

  “No,” he said, leaning down to take a nipple in his mouth again, pleased at her little sigh of contentment. “Eventually”—he moved to the other breast—“I’ll get to all of you. Not in any hurry. Are you?”

  “Not yet,” she murmured, arching slightly as she closed her eyes. “But keep that up, and I might be.”

  There was nothing sexier than a sexually self-confident woman. Forget all the revealing clothes and high heels and glossy lipstick that invited and promised; all he wanted was a woman who knew what she wanted and wasn’t afraid to ask for it—and who gave as good as she got.

  “Let’s get you comfortable,” he said, plumping pillows under her shoulders and hips. The only light in the room was the dim entry light by the door, enough for him to note the bikini wax and glimpse a gleam of moistness as he positioned her hips where he wanted them. He wanted to see all of her, every detail—but the hints, the shadows and mysterious valleys, teased in a way that was so much more satisfying.

  “What are you doing?” She sounded both amused and bemused.

  “Anticipation,” Vincent replied, grinning. He kissed the inside of her thigh, moving upward, breathing in deeply as he moved to the other thigh and kissed his way down to her ankle.

  She sighed, raising her hips in an invitation, conscious or otherwise, but he had no intention of accepting it just yet. She had pretty knees and smooth skin. So easy to slide his palms up and down her thighs, inside and out, on a friction of warmth. He imagined those strong thighs closing tight around his head as he ate her out, trapping him in a bounty of female flesh. She wanted to feel his mouth and tongue on her; he could tell by the increasing movements of her hips, straining toward him, the change in her breathing.

  Mindful of the TV admonishment, she was being quiet, and watching her bite down on her lip aroused him even more. He started at her ankle and slowly kissed his way up her inner leg and thigh, satisfied to feel the slight trembling in her muscles, knowing she was thinking that this time he’d slide his tongue over her, hard and sure, his hot, flexible mouth on the overly sensitized flesh aching for that touch.

  Instead he blew a soft breath over her, making her squeak—a cute sound he could get to like—and then slid upward to kiss her mouth, letting his cock brush against her folds.

  “You bastard,” she said, punching him in the shoulder. “Do that again and I’ll kill you.”

  Laughing, Vincent planted rapid, hard kisses down her neck and chest, teasing her nipples until she began to squirm. Then he finally moved down between her legs to give her what she wanted.

  A flick of the tongue for openers, and she bucked with a moan, teeth worrying her lip again as she grabbed at the sheets, pulling them into a tight grip.

  She liked that—good. He repeated it several more times, keeping his hands on her thighs, pushing them wide. Her hips rose to meet his mouth, and he licked upward slowly with increasing pressure, again and again, until she began making incoherent sounds and it was time to get serious. He tongued all of her, licking and sucking, teasing her clitoris with the tip of his tongue, then probing deeper within, taking in the taste and feel of her, her frantic motions and mewling nearly enough to make him come right then.

  Claudia was taking her time to climax, trying to control the moment, to make it last. When he saw that, Vincent’s mouth and tongue moved with more force and speed, as determined to make her come as she was determined to hold out. It was a contest of wills she couldn’t win, and within seconds the orgasm rushed through her, her muscles trembling. He didn’t let up, keeping at it, coaxing her higher, even as she pushed at his shoulders and tried to close her legs. She didn’t want him to stop, her arching hips said, but caught between pleasure and oversensitization, she instinctually tried to urge him on as well as slow him down.

  Her body, beautifully responsive and taut, shuddered again. Sensing how close she was to another orgasm, Vincent waited a moment longer before shifting upward and burying himself inside her. Thrusting hard and fast, he matched her rising need, watching her face, and as her mouth fell slack and she closed her eyes, lost in the pleasure, he began to climax as well.

  He took her face in his hands, forcing her to look at him, to watch him lose himself in her. A split second before he came, she gave a deep, throaty laugh and whispered, “Control issues.”

  It took a moment before he could respond, chest heaving, still holding her face, though his thumb caressed the curve of her lips. “Maybe. But I won that round.”

  She grinned. “The night’s still young. I’ll make you beg yet.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Thursday morning, Philadelphia

  The persistent ring tone of her cell phone woke Claudia, and she sat up, groping for it as Vincent groaned and rolled over, blocking his eyes from the sudden light when she switched on the table lamp.

  The alarm clock’s cheery green glow proclaimed the time 6:05 am. Hideously early. “Cruz. What?”

  “Did I wake you up?”

  The drily amused voice on the other end belonged to Ben. Jesus, it was only three in the morning in Seattle! The man had to be a cyborg.

  “Yeah, you did, but it’s okay.” She glanced at Vincent’s broad back and tousled hair, doubting he was as sound asleep as he looked. She held back a sigh. “If you got something important for me, though, I’m not alone. Maybe I should call you back.”

  She held her breath, worried Ben would guess who she was with, and braced herself for his reaction. Instead, after an uncomfortably long pause, he said, “Nothing important. Just a heads-up that I’ve got details on that new job in Texas. I need you out there today. Whatever you’re working on in Philly will have to wait.”

  A sinking feeling washed over her. She’d known this was coming but had expected a little advance warning. “Can you give me a couple more days? A new lead’s come up here and it’s looking good. I don’t want to lose the momentum.”

  “It’s not something the locals can handle? Like that asshole Fed of yours? What’s his name again . . . DeLuca?”

  “No, it’s not, and no, he can’t,” Claudia said without hesitation, even as she cringed inwardly at the blatant lie.

  Another heavy, pregnant pause, the kind that told her he knew she was lying. Claudia waited again for the anger and recriminations—and, again, they didn’t happen.

  “One day. No more than that. You can always get back to Philly later.” Ben’s tone was terse, brooking no further argument. “Ellie will send the assignment details by courier. You should have that by this afternoon. Our liaison was expecting to see you tonight, but I can stall for a day.�
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  “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

  “If the delay means catching the thieves, that’ll be thanks enough. Keep me posted on what’s going on.” He disconnected.

  Claudia dropped her hand to the sheets, slowly letting out her breath. After a moment, she asked quietly, “You awake?”

  “I am now.” Vincent rolled over, stretching, and it had the effect on her that he no doubt intended. If not for the fact that they both had work to do, she’d have pulled the sheet away and followed his happy trail down to a little morning delight. The sonofabitch deserved it, after all that delicious teasing last night. “I take it you’re leaving soon?” he asked.

  “Something’s going down in Texas.” How much to tell him? They were on the same side, in all the ways that counted, but she knew Ben would feel otherwise. “No real details yet.”

  In the dim light, she couldn’t read Vincent’s shadowed face. He sat up, arms resting across his sheet-draped knees. “If I’m remembering right, there’s been a string of thefts from churches down that way. Somebody stealing relics.”

  “That’s low.”

  He shrugged. “The world’s full of low-life bastards.”

  “Believe me, I know all about it.” She pushed her hair back, hoping she didn’t look too awful. The real test of any relationship was the reality of the morning after. She could tell he was trying not to stare at her bare breasts, and she couldn’t decide if that was a good thing . . . or not.

  The silence turned awkward, and Vincent glanced at the clock. “I should get going. I’ll head to the office first to pick up copies of the security data, then how about I meet you at my place at around seven-thirty?”

  So much for postcoital coos and sweet nothings. It was to be expected; they’d both had an itch in need of scratching, and now that it had been soothed, it was time to float back down to the ho-hum of the everyday routine.