Searching for You

by Jennifer Probst

  A shudder wracked her body. He waited for her reaction. Would it be retreat? A scathing remark meant to barb and push? A flirtatious, frustrating cat-and-mouse game?

  Instead of retreat, she leaned in, so her breath struck softly against his lips. The heat between them pulled and tantalized. Dylan clawed for control, when all he wanted was to take her mouth, strip her naked, and see how many orgasms it would take to finally get her to surrender. He hoped a lot. He planned on it.

  "What makes you so sure I remember it?" she drawled against his mouth.

  His dick wept for mercy. The primitive male in him roared to take her and show her the truth. Instead, with an inch between their lips, he smiled real slow.

  "I'm betting you thought about that kiss, too. Late at night. Under the covers. Wet and aching for me. Let's finish what we started. Let me take you to my bed."

  In his wettest, wildest imagination, Dylan never would've believed the woman could raise the stakes so high and so fast. Yet, in typical fashion, she managed to blow him away.

  Her voice was a husky whisper of smoke and temptation. "Why? I see a perfectly good table in front of you." His hands tightened brutally in her hair. "Do you have the guts to use it?"

  Dylan waited a full beat. Two.

  Then slammed his mouth over hers.

  The world tumbled in slow motion, then stopped for a brief moment. Her blood rushed in her veins, wetness seeped between her thighs, her pulse pounded with a mad glee, and then he kissed her and it was all over.

  She was lost.

  A low moan ripped from her throat at contact and his tongue plunged deep. Completely raw, with little finesse and all dark hunger, he invaded her mouth.

  The past and present blurred together, but this time, there was no retreat. Meeting him halfway, their tongues tangled and fought in a sensual dual she was happy to lose. He claimed and plundered, pressing her back over the chair until she was stretched out and he loomed over her. His other hand cupped her breast, flicking the tight bud of her nipple. She gripped his shoulders and arched against him, asking for more, and without breaking the kiss, his hand slipped underneath the V neck, under the lace of her bra, and hit bare skin.

  Oh, God. It felt so good, his fingers tweaking, causing a lightning bolt to hit straight to her clit, which was so full and desperate for pressure. Never had her body lit up so fast, with just a kiss and simple touch. Usually it took awhile for foreplay to get her going, but holy crap, she was going to come right now if she could just lift her hips a bit and rub--

  "Don't think so, my little hellcat." He murmured the words against her lips, pausing to bite, then suck. "I waited ten years to have you. I'm not letting you get off on a quick rub in the chair."

  She should be completely embarrassed, but Riley was beyond caring how she got there. She wasn't into casual sex or one-night stands--she was on the hunt for a husband. But right now, tonight, the need in her body hurt too much. Her hunger reached beyond any type of rationality. Riley craved the hard fall of the unknown, living the fantasy of becoming his lover for one night. Plenty of time to restock and get her plan back in order tomorrow. She tugged harder, trying to lift her ass higher. "You win. I want you."

  He chuckled low and dirty. "Oh, baby, you're still gonna pay."

  Shivers raced down her spine. He teased her nipple, flicking it back and forth, until it was so taut and swollen she knew one swipe of his tongue could take care of the agony. "I didn't do anything."

  He broke the kiss and looked deep in her eyes. "You did everything. You just don't know it yet."

  The words made no sense, but he gave her no time to ponder. He lifted her up and pressed her down on the dining room table. With deft motions, he moved the empty plates and her wineglass. Her legs dangled over the side, her back supported by the marble. Riley waited for the frantic pull of clothes, the feel of skin on skin, the mad rush toward orgasm that usually accompanied a passionate encounter. Instead, he towered over her at the edge. With his exotic, simmering gaze trained on hers, Dylan smiled, telling her immediately he was in no rush.

  Oh, God, he was going to kill her.

  He toed off his shoes and pulled off his sweater with one easy motion. His skin gleamed in the firelight, a beautiful golden brown, with well-defined pecs and biceps. A line of light hair traveled down washboard abs and disappeared into his jeans. Her fingers fisted to unsnap, rip them off, and feast. Riley was just about to jump him when he moved out of reach.

  "Stay there. Don't move."

  He grabbed one of the candles and disappeared, coming back with a few wrapped packages he placed beside him. Oh yeah. Condoms. Thank God he remembered, because her mind had become putty, just like her body.

  Without a word, he pulled off each of her boots, rubbing her foot through the stockings in a slow massage. As he pressed into her instep, she swallowed a moan and kicked her leg a bit so he'd get on with the more important parts. Her body throbbed for relief, but he took his time with each foot, then gently let them sway back, dangling in midair.

  "Dylan?"

  "Yes, darlin'?"

  "Umm, we started at a good pace there, but things have slowed."

  A glint of white teeth flashed. "Ever hear the motto 'it's all in the journey and not the destination'?"

  "Yeah. I always thought that was bullshit." She scooted an inch down and wiggled her hips. "Getting to goal is a good thing." The thought of a mind-blowing orgasm with her secret fantasy had all her circuits firing. She enjoyed sex, but found her mind was way too involved, so she did best with a quick, intense session that got her to climax. Riley had accepted her limitations and issues a long time ago, and though many times she wished to be less complicated, she also realized it was easier to accept and move on than try and fight her natural inclinations.

  "What if I told you I intend to change your mind?" He played with her ankle, slipping his fingers under her pants and rubbing her calf. Damn, the man could've been a massage therapist and made a million. Her muscles flexed while he kneaded, then caressed the back of her knee. Bolts of pleasure streaked through her. "What if I told you I don't intend to let you get to goal until you're begging me?"

  Uh, yeah. Good try. But she was so hot right now, as soon as he got close for any friction she'd take care of herself. Besides, he didn't know about her issues of nonstop mental chatter. Still, she smiled. "I'd say good luck."

  His grin was very smug and very male. A shiver of warning trickled down her spine. She'd never begged for anything in her life, especially for a man to satisfy her. She didn't intend to start now.

  Dylan leaned over and skated both hands higher, pausing right underneath her thighs. He squeezed hard, and her hips lifted unconsciously. "I'm going to love every moment of this." With one deft movement, he gripped the material of her pants and pulled them off her. The white lace of her panties was already past damp, but when she tried to close her legs an inch, he lifted her legs high and placed them on the edge of the table. Far apart.

  Riley sucked in a breath, feeling exposed everywhere. His hot gaze took in every inch of her skin, lingering on her most private parts, until a secret thrill began to build. Something dark and dirty stirred to life. A man never took the time to study her body with such razor intent, as if dying to ravish, taste, mate. She trembled, not knowing what to do with the crazy feelings beginning to surge.

  "So pretty," he murmured, tracing one index finger over the elastic, skimming over the front so she struggled to remain still. "So wet. But not enough. Not yet."

  His talk shocked her. Men didn't talk . . . like that. Did they? And why did she like it? Dylan leaned over, and she released a sigh, waiting for the final barrier to be off and feel him inside her.

  Instead, he lowered his mouth and pressed kisses over her thighs with a leisurely intent that told her he was in no rush. His tongue lashed out at her, tasting the sensitive skin of her inner thigh, knee, calves, and slowly back up. Her mind spun and grabbed for purchase, but there was no logic. She trie
d to grab his head and urge him upward, but he ignored her. A nibble here, a lick there; his hands consistently roved, pushing up her sweater and dipping into her belly button, squeezing her hips, playing with the damn elastic of her panties until a whimper broke from her lips.

  Finally, he inched his way back up. The heat of his skin burned into hers, and with the same easy pace, he pushed up the sweater, propped her up, and guided it over her head.

  "You taste like I imagined. Exotic. Sweet."

  Her voice sounded like sandpaper. "Orange blossom body lotion."

  "And jasmine."

  "Yes, that's in there, too. Dylan, what are you doing?" Her eyes begged him to give her the orgasm and stop the torture, but the wicked grin that tugged at his lips told her he had other plans.

  "Everything. By the time I taste your pussy, you'll beg me to let you come against my tongue. And I'll demand it, Riley. Every last bit of it is mine."

  Filthy. Words like this had never been spoken to her, but she grew wetter, and her skin itched with such sensitivity she rolled back and forth in an effort to soothe. He laughed, cupping her breasts through the sheer white lace that matched her panties. Her nipples were already hard and aching, desperate to be released from their prison, but he just dipped his head and began licking her through the material, scraping his teeth over the sensitive nub again and again until a low scream built at the back of her throat. His erection behind his jeans seemed massive, pressed against her swollen core, and she half lifted to press against him. His teeth nipped sharply against her nipple and she cried out. The pain lashed and turned to excruciating pleasure, forcing her head to thrash back and forth. Too much. It was all too much.

  "I can't do this," she moaned. "It's taking too long."

  Dylan unsnapped her bra and cupped her bare breasts, lifting them up to his mouth. "It's never enough. Not for you. Don't know what dickheads you've been with, but 'wham bam thank you ma'am' is not your style."

  "Yes! It is!"

  His lips closed around her nipple and he sucked. She held on to him in a fierce grip, arched upward, burning alive to satisfy the ache between her legs and the need for this man to take all of her, any way he wanted, over and over and over.

  "Open your mouth for me, Riley." His eyes seethed with demand and lust. "Now."

  His tongue surged between her lips and she almost wept with the pleasure. He plundered every last secret, then softened the pressure so he could play. The dual effects of hard and soft, rough and gentle, slow and fast, broke down her mental barriers and left her with nothing.

  Just freedom.

  By the time he broke the kiss and moved his way back down her body, Riley was ready to surrender. "Oh, please," she whispered. "Please."

  "Better. You're almost there." He tugged off her panties and laid her bare for his gaze. "Do you know how long I fantasized about tasting you here?" He dragged a finger over her dripping slit, lightly playing on her clit, and Riley writhed with a dark need to let him do anything. "Is that what you want?"

  "Yes!"

  "Ask me, Riley. Beg me."

  "P-p-please kiss me there."

  "Where?"

  Shame burned within but she was past caring. "Please kiss my pussy. Please lick me."

  "Beautiful. You're so beautiful, you were made for this. For me." He cupped her ass and lifted her up for his mouth. The first wet swipe of his tongue caused a long wail to escape her lips. He avoided her clit, once again taking his time, murmuring terrible, dirty words about her pussy, curling two fingers and plunging inside her at the same time he licked her clit, so lightly and gently Riley felt the last of her sanity shred.

  "Dylan, please! I need--I'm begging!"

  Without hesitation, he increased the pressure and pounded three fingers into her weeping channel.

  She came apart.

  The climax tore through her, stole her breath, and ripped her to pieces. She screamed and bucked beneath him, but he never stopped, dragging the pleasure on and on until she was a shivering, trembling mass of exposed nerves.

  Riley collapsed, boneless. The hiss of a zipper cut to her ears. The rip of a wrapper. And then he was dragging her down the length of the table, her legs spread wide, feet propped high on his shoulders, completely open to anything he wanted to do.

  His cock paused at her entrance. Pushed in an inch. Another. Slowly, he filled her completely, taking everything she had without apology. She stretched to accommodate him, relishing the tightness, and when he was buried deep within her, he interweaved his fingers with hers.

  His voice broke. "It's you. Why didn't I realize? It's always been you."

  She had no time to process the words or their meaning. He withdrew all the way, then slammed himself fully back, sheathing his throbbing dick to the hilt. Again. Again. Again.

  The ride was wild, long, choppy, thrilling. The second climax shimmered just out of reach, the feeling of him taking over her body, his hips working in a primitive dance, sweat drenching their skin, over and over until--

  Riley broke apart, dimly noting him following her over the edge. She gripped his hands as her only anchor, his weight pressing her against the table, until they collapsed.

  She closed her eyes.

  Her mind was completely and blissfully empty.

  chapter 6

  Had he died? Nope, his body ached a bit. He was getting older and he couldn't remember the last time he'd had sex on a table. Of course, he'd never be able to eat here again without thinking of her.

  Her voice drifted to his ears. "That may have been worth the ten-year wait."

  Dylan chuckled and nibbled on her neck. So sweet. She was still shaking slightly from the string of orgasms, making him want to do the whole thing over again. And again. "Brat. Is sex back in the box?" He eased off of her and disposed of the condom.

  "No. I told you it can't be."

  "Foreplay? Oral?"

  She gave him that adorable glare that always turned him on. "That's included with sex."

  He turned to go stoke the fire. Curious, he wondered what else she thought she had to have in a husband. So far, her list was way off. She'd destroy a mild-mannered accountant who did anything she said. Dylan shuddered just at the thought. She bored without a challenge, and to him, love and marriage and kids was the ultimate goal to conquer.

  "Tell me what else you see happening in this fictitious perfect future of yours?" he asked.

  She eased to a sitting position, her naked body a gorgeous silhouette. "So you can make fun of me? Hell no."

  He threw up a hand in a Boy Scout gesture. "Promise not to make fun."

  Her lower lip jutted out in a hint of a sulk. He walked back over and kissed it off her, until her hands gripped his shoulders and her nails dug in hard. Damned if she wasn't making him hard again.

  "Fine. I'm going to sew all my children's clothes. And knit. I'll make the afghans and do little booties for the boy and two girls I'll have."

  He stared at her and waited for the punch line. Never got one. A wild laugh scratched at his chest, dying to escape, but he battled it back. Barely. "You told me you flunked home economics in high school. You hated it, Riley. You'd go apeshit if you tried to sew."

  She gasped and pointed her finger at him. "See! I told you! I'm going to like it this time. Crochet is in my box. And my husband is going to do all the maintenance around the house. Mow the lawn, fix the plumbing, maybe help build an addition."

  He pressed his lips together. His eyes began to tear. "Don't you make a crap load of money?"

  Her brows knitted in a frown. "So?"

  "Why the hell does he have to do that shit if you can hire out? Aren't you going to be running Chic Publishing? You gonna take up yoga next?"

  Her stony silence was answer enough.

  No. Fucking. Way. With her temper? She used to tell him that sitting still with her own thoughts for too long made her want to jump off a cliff. Riley had boundless energy, was a classic multitasker, and craved multiple goals and projects go
ing on simultaneously. This time he couldn't help it. He burst into laughter. "You're nuts. I'll pay to see you try and sit cross-legged and be quiet for five minutes. Hell, one minute and you'll be opening your mouth to speak."

  She jumped off the table and pushed him. "Yoga is in my box! I want to bring a measured, balanced energy into my life, and yoga is the key."

  Dylan wiped at his eyes. "Sure, darlin'. I just think it would be easier if you recognize your true personality and find someone who will fit, rather than try to change. Like me. I bet I'd fit in your box. That's the reason Kinnections matched us."

  She sucked in her breath. "Not possible. Especially if you're not on board with knitting, yoga, and friendship before sex."

  He couldn't help it. She was so damn cute when she got riled up. He grabbed her hair and kissed her hard and deep and long, until she grew quiet and malleable. His blood sung and roared in victory. He was the only one able to tame Riley Fox. Now he had to prove it to her before the morning came.

  "I'm going to turn on the generator so we can get the lights back on. Stay here. And don't put on clothes."

  With one last kiss, he grabbed a candle and went out to the hallway. He took the staircase down to the control room, then after a few minutes got the generator running. The lights flicked on and he came back upstairs, ready to go for round two and three with the woman who had exploded back into his life.

  She was wrapped in the dining room runner.

  The gold and silver covering made her look like a yummy Christmas gift ready to open. Seeing her in full light--the rich texture of her hair spilling over her shoulders, the soft, flawless skin, the plump, swollen lips--took his breath away.

  "God, you're gorgeous," he murmured. A slight flush traveled over her cheeks and upper chest. "Why are you wearing a tablecloth?"

  Those extraordinary eyes narrowed and sparked. She spoke with pure haughtiness. "Because I don't do naked."

  He gave a wolfish grin. "Covering you up should be a crime. I'll have to convince you."

  He came forward but she jumped back, her hands clasping the edge of the runner. "No! I mean it, Dylan, I refuse to be so uncivilized."

  Amusement cut through him. She was so much fun. "Is this also in the box? Civilization and covering up what I just touched and tasted?"