Midnight Fantasies

by Vicki Lewis Thompson

  Obviously she could do almost anything she wanted and he wouldn’t guess now. So she needed to decide how far to take this little charade. Truth or dare? Dare. “My hands are strong from molding the clay,” she said. “I love how it feels when I work it, so moist…so…pliable. I find the process very stimulating.”

  “I’ll bet you do.” He cradled her hand in both of his and began a gentle massage. “I’d love to watch you work with that clay sometime.”

  “Oh, I don’t think so. I need my space when I create.” The devil had got hold of her tongue. “And in this heat, I’ve been known to work without any clothes on.”

  “You shouldn’t have told me that,” he murmured, bringing her hand to his lips. “Now I really want to watch you work. Watch you get…stimulated.” He brushed her knuckles with a gentle kiss.

  She nearly passed out from the pleasure of it. Years ago, she used to imagine scenes like this with Jonas, and then she’d given up all hope that they’d ever get past their brother/sister relationship. Yet here he was, pressing his mouth to the back of her hand. Of course, he thought it was the hand of a sculptor named Sarah, a woman who molded clay into nudes while she waltzed around her studio in her birthday suit feeling sexy.

  “Maybe I could make an exception and let you watch,” she said. “Although I have a feeling you would distract me.”

  “I’d be very quiet.” He opened her palm and circled his tongue there.

  She tried to steady her breathing. A woman of the world wouldn’t fall apart because a man was kissing her hand. “What’s…what’s your name?” she asked.

  “Jonas.” His breath whispered over the inside of her wrist. “You smell like rain,” he said, just before he placed his warm mouth against her pulse.

  “Jonas.” She murmured his name, rolling it over her tongue as if she’d never heard it before, as if she’d never yelled it across the yard or muttered it under her breath in total frustration. “Do you believe in Fate, Jonas?”

  “Maybe.” He cupped her elbow and lazily made his way from her wrist to the inside of her elbow. “Do you?”

  “Maybe.” Her heart thundered in her ears. Surely the more he touched her, the better his chance of figuring out who was in this cave with him. But until he did figure it out, she might as well enjoy the fantasy. Chances like this didn’t come along every day.

  “I sure never expected to find someone like you here today.” He caressed the tender inside of her elbow with slow strokes of his finger.

  “Someone like me?” The breathy laugh didn’t sound like her. It sounded like a daring woman who created nudes for a living. “You know almost nothing about me.”

  “I know more than you think.” He shifted his weight, bending one knee so he could turn toward her on the ledge. “I know you’re very creative. I know you spend your days exploring the wonders of the human body, and as a sculptor, you’d have to be very sensitive.”

  “I am.”

  “I knew it. I could tell from the way you shivered when I kissed the inside of your arm.” His hand brushed her cheek in a seeking gesture. Then he caressed the line of her jaw. “And while it’s true I can’t see you very well, all my other senses are wide-awake. I know you have smooth, soft skin, that you smell like rain, that your voice is low and makes me think of sex.”

  She swallowed and tried to keep her voice steady. “Really?” He definitely didn’t know who she was. Jonas had never, ever thought of sex when she was around.

  “You shouldn’t be surprised.” He brought his other hand up and combed it through her hair. “You’re obviously a very sensual woman, a woman who likes to let her hair down. You have beautiful hair. What color is it?”

  She thought quickly. No use giving him any clues by telling him the right hair color. Once he started thinking of her as a blonde, he might put two and two together. “Chocolate-brown,” she said.

  “Perfect. I love chocolate.” He drew a section over her shoulder and combed it down over her breast, although he seemed to take care not to touch her there…yet. “And your eyes?”

  “Jade-green.” She’d always wished they were, at any rate. Keely had green eyes, but B.J. had ended up with blue.

  “Jade-green.” He ran his thumb gently over her lower lip. “Most women would say they had brown hair and green eyes, but you added the chocolate and the jade part. I have a feeling you’re a very unusual woman, Sarah. I’d like to get to know you better.”

  She’d begun to tremble with anticipation. He was going to kiss her. She would finally find out what it was like to kiss Jonas. But if she expected to keep him mystified, she had to treat this moment the way a sophisticated woman would. In other words, she had to act, instead of being acted upon.

  “We seem to have some time on our hands.” She tried to think what Keely would do under these circumstances. Summoning all her courage, she reached over and began toying with a button on his shirt. “Maybe we should make use of it to…get to know each other.” She unfastened the button.

  He drew in a breath. “I couldn’t have said it better.”

  The more she dared, the bolder she became. She undid the next button, and the next, while his breath quickened. She was exciting him, exciting this man who’d made love to more women than she cared to think about. “Your shirt’s wet. That can’t be very comfortable.” Using both hands, she pulled it from the waistband of his jeans. “Let’s take it off.”

  “What an incredible woman you are.”

  “Ah, but you’re quite incredible, yourself.” She pushed the shirt off his shoulders, lingering over the process, caressing him. “Such muscles. I would love to sculpt you.”

  “Anytime.” His voice quivered slightly.

  That quiver brought a dizzying rush of power. So this was what it felt like to have a man totally under her spell. What a delicious experience.

  She leaned forward slowly, breathing in his scent. Although she recognized it as belonging to Jonas, she’d never experienced the underlying note of arousal that spiced his skin now. She moistened her lips and pressed them against the curve of his shoulder.

  His skin was cool from the dampness of his shirt, but it warmed quickly under her mouth. He tasted forbidden. Forbidden and sweet. Heart pounding, she ran her tongue along his collarbone and nuzzled his throat.

  “Oh, Sarah.” He combed trembling fingers through her hair. “Sarah, you’re driving me crazy.”

  “I intend to.” She outlined his jaw with teasing, nibbling kisses. “Just relax and let it happen.”

  “Oh, Lord.” He began to shake.

  She’d made him want her so much he was shaking. She couldn’t get over it. She’d never seduced a man before. Who knew it was so simple? Only one little problem. She was shaking, too.

  To steady herself, she cupped the back of his head with both hands. “I want you to kiss me, now,” she murmured, lifting her mouth to his. “Kiss me, Jonas.”

  With a soft groan he settled his lips over hers. With that first meeting, mouth-to-mouth, tongue-to-tongue, she forgot to play the role of the experienced woman of the world. She whimpered with delight.

  Apparently that only inflamed him more, because he groaned again and took the kiss even deeper.

  She’d never been kissed like this—full-out, no holds barred—and she wallowed in it. Slackening her jaw, she gave him all the access he wanted. They kissed, shifted angles and kissed again, came up for air and went back to kissing again.

  They were both gasping when Jonas finally drew back a fraction. “Your clothes…are wet…too,” he said as he struggled for breath.

  She gulped for air. “Yes.”

  “Sarah…let me…touch you.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  EVER SINCE HE’D LOST HIS virginity at fifteen, Jonas had dedicated a good part of his time to loving women, and he’d had some amazing experiences. But nothing like this. He’d never come across a free-spirited temptress by accident and found her ready and willing to play.

  And Sarah was more
than willing. Sarah. He didn’t even know her last name, and he probably wouldn’t recognize her if he passed her on the street. That made this escapade even more exciting. He’d never made love to a complete stranger before.

  And yet, she didn’t feel like a stranger. Something about her seemed familiar and right. That made no sense, because he was positive he’d never known anybody named Sarah. He’d been involved with a lot of women, but he could recite each of their names and phone numbers. Still. If he closed his eyes, he could also remember the shape of their breasts and the color of the soft curls between their thighs.

  He’d given some thought to marriage over the years, but he required two qualities in a wife—a good heart and a wild imagination. So far he’d never found both in the same woman. He already knew Sarah possessed one of them.

  Her breath tickled his mouth. “Take off whatever you like,” she said in a voice richer than fine whiskey.

  He wanted to shout everything, but this was a classy woman. She probably expected finesse and a gradual undressing. So he’d oblige her. “Let’s start with this.” Slowly he drew the hem of her T-shirt out of her jeans.

  “All right.” She leaned back, a shadowy creature out of his dearest wet dreams. “Go ahead.” Then she raised her arms.

  He pulled the shirt off mostly by feel. He really couldn’t see what he was doing, but he was discovering that operating only by feel provided its own special reward. He dropped her shirt to the floor of the cave.

  Then, before he could reach for her, she took hold of his wrists and guided his hands to her lace-covered breasts. “I believe this is what you wanted,” she said.

  His moan of agreement sounded as if someone had him by the throat. His hands trembled, and he couldn’t remember ever feeling such promising sweetness in his life. His mouth watered.

  “Let me undo the hooks,” she murmured. She reached both hands behind her back and arched toward him.

  He couldn’t wait. With another moan he cupped the breasts she’d thrust toward him and leaned down to close his mouth over one lace-covered nipple.

  “Impatient, are you?”

  Her teasing words doubled his hunger. With a soft growl he nipped at the lace until it went slack in his hands. Then he pulled it away and dropped it to the floor of the cave. As he reached for her again, she drew back.

  “Wait.”

  He couldn’t wait. Not for a second. “Sarah—”

  “Let me make this easier.”

  Easier. As he listened to the sound of her boots being tossed to the floor of the cave, he decided a wise man wouldn’t question her statement.

  “Hold still,” she whispered. Resting her hands on his shoulders, she got to her knees on the rock ledge. “Now close your eyes.”

  He closed them. He could barely see her, anyway. As he waited, heart pounding and groin tight, her nipple grazed his cheek and stroked deliberately across his lips. The scent of her skin filled his nostrils as she eased her other nipple over his mouth. He groaned and lifted his hands to touch her.

  “Don’t do anything. Leave your hands at your sides. Let me do it. Just relax.”

  Out of the question. No man could be expected to relax while a woman rubbed against his face with her breasts—velvety, plump playthings that carried the scent of rainwater and desire. Yet he stopped touching her, somehow. “Sarah, let me—”

  “Soon.” With slow, yet constant movements she teased him, sliding back and forth, never letting a nipple rest very long against his parted lips.

  He loved it. He hated it. He wanted her so much he was afraid he’d start drooling. With every gentle motion, his penis grew harder, pressing painfully against the zipper of his fly.

  At last she paused, one erect nipple touching his mouth. “Now you may.”

  With a sigh of pleasure he sucked in and thought he might come right there. She tasted incredible and her little gasps of delight made him light-headed with desire. Then she offered her other breast, and he lifted a hand to caress the one he’d so recently enjoyed.

  She grasped his hand and guided it to her belt buckle. “Here,” she said softly.

  Lord, she was bold. Wonderfully bold. He’d always dreamed of an encounter like this, but never imagined he’d be lucky enough to have one. His heart beating hard and fast, he unfastened her belt, undid the top button of her jeans and pulled down her zipper.

  “Yes.” The word came out as a sigh.

  He needed no more encouragement. Her jeans and panties slipped easily over her slim hips. She lifted each knee in turn, and then, just like that, he was alone in this cave with a naked woman.

  A naked woman who was guiding his mouth lower. Lord in heaven, he’d hit the lottery today. Sometimes his lovers would turn shy on him and he’d have to coax them into this maneuver he loved. But there was nothing shy about this woman if she’d take such a caress from a man she’d just met. He should have made the acquaintance of more female artists.

  Or perhaps the darkness of the cave made all the difference for her. In any case, she’d invited him to explore her most intimate treasure, which made him a happy man. He pressed his lips against her warm, salty skin, gliding down the valley between her ribs as he braced his hands on the ledge and slid to his knees on the cave floor.

  Once there, he started to cup her bottom in both hands.

  “No,” she murmured. “No hands.”

  “Why?” he asked, his lips brushing her skin.

  “I want…to be in charge.”

  He had no quarrel with that. She could direct him as long as she liked, if this was his reward. He gripped the ledge so he wouldn’t forget her conditions as he continued his journey to paradise.

  When he reached her belly and dipped his tongue into her naval, she quivered. Ticklish or very aroused. He’d bet on the latter. As for him, he was in agony, his penis straining to be free, to be stroked, to be brought to climax. But he would endure a little while longer.

  He began to blaze a deliberate trail through her curls and her breathing quickened even more. Because he was a man who’d learned how to interpret every subtle signal a woman gave him, he listened carefully to the tempo of her breath. He knew when she paused that she was having second thoughts.

  Even though she obviously longed for the intimate touch of his mouth, they were strangers. Poised on the brink of this daring adventure, she could be losing her nerve.

  He didn’t want that to happen. But she’d said she wanted to be in charge. Maybe she knew he could press his advantage and take the control away from her. He could. Perhaps she’d thank him for it later.

  If he knew her better, he might take that chance. But he didn’t really know her at all, and this moment of decision rightly belonged to her. He hesitated, the womanly scent of her beckoning him, while he let her choose.

  With a moan that sounded like surrender, she leaned back on her braced hands and lifted her hips.

  “Oh, Sarah. My sweet Sarah.” Then he touched his tongue to that precious cleft. Ambrosia. He grew dizzy from excitement as he tasted and teased, nibbled and licked, explored new territory. Then he settled in with a more steady rhythm, coaxing her, reveling in the way she opened to him. Gradually her needy cries filled the cave and blended with the steady beat of the rain.

  He’d been told he did this well, but all thought of technique deserted him in the midst of this incredible, mysterious moment. Instinct was his only guide, instinct and the changing patterns of her breathing. Now he would always associate the scent of the rain with the scent of this woman, the sound of the raindrops with her soft pleas begging for release.

  When he gave it, he nearly tumbled over the brink himself. But he didn’t. He maintained enough sanity to wait and see what this woman had in mind for an encore.

  Her words of gratitude spilled out between labored breaths as she sank back on her heels and leaned against the rock wall.

  He ran his tongue over his lips. Delicious. He was ready to do it all again. Or maybe…maybe she would sugg
est that turnabout was fair play. He could deal with that.

  Her breathing slowed, and the cave grew silent and thick with the passion they’d shared, the passion that still existed between them. Gradually he became aware that the rain had stopped.

  She swallowed. “I need to leave, now.”

  “Leave?” Surely she wasn’t planning to abandon him at a time like this, when he was full, pulsing, desperate?

  “Yes, I have to go.” She cleared her throat. “The rain’s stopped, so there’s no reason to stay in the cave anymore.”

  “But…” He found he couldn’t ask her for what he needed. He didn’t know her well enough, and for the first time in years, he was afraid of being rejected.

  “Ah. Would you like some relief, yourself?”

  Well, duh. He snorted in frustration. “It crossed my mind.”

  “I wish I could help you, but I really must go. I’ll need my clothes. I think you’re kneeling on them.”

  He rose to a crouch and fumbled with the tangled clothes on the cave floor. He had his pride, and he’d be damned if he’d beg her to help him out. No, ma’am. If she couldn’t freely give, as he had, then to hell with—

  “I’d like to repay your generosity,” she said. “Would you like to meet again?”

  Oh, God, yes. “Maybe.” He handed over her clothes.

  “I thought this was exciting, not being able to see each other, yet becoming very intimate. Did you think so, too?”

  “It had its moments.” Moments he would never, ever forget.

  “I have an idea how we can keep the excitement going.”

  “Is that right?” He could barely make out her shadowy figure in the gloom as she pulled her T-shirt over her head. How he ached. He would ache for a week if she didn’t—

  “You could come over tomorrow night after dark,” she said.

  “Possibly.” Tomorrow night was an eternity away. But he wouldn’t ask for tonight, instead. He had his standards.