Hot Pursuit

by Julie Ann Walker

Her chest rose and fell in quick breaths as she jerkily nodded.

  Expectation flashed through his blood until his veins throbbed as he carefully peeled her panties away and flung them over his shoulder to join her leggings and socks. He sucked in a startled breath when she lowered her legs and he saw that she was…

  Shaved.

  Smooth as could be. Pink and plump and glistening with desire.

  Ding! Ding! Ding! It was like he was one of Pavlov’s ruddy dogs, salivating at the dinner bell.

  “Sodding hell,” he groaned, once again reaching down to soothe the ache in his cock. “You’re bloody gorgeous, Emily.”

  She released a shuddering breath and blushed. All over.

  He wanted nothing more than to fall to his knees, bury his head between her legs, and taste. But he didn’t want to shock her with the intensity of his hunger. And besides, this time, their first time together, she deserved finesse. She deserved soft kisses and sweet caresses. She deserved to have every part of her body tended to.

  Which he would do.

  Starting now.

  “What about you?” she asked, dodging his lips when he crawled into bed beside her and tried to claim her mouth.

  Impatient, he asked, “What about me?” Now that the moment had arrived, he was keen to move things along. His cock was pulsing so hard he wasn’t entirely sure it wouldn’t go off in his sodding trousers.

  “Aren’t you going to get naked?”

  “In time,” he promised. “But first”—he trailed a finger over her delicate collarbone, watching her breasts quiver gently in response—“I want to have you like this, naked, vulnerable, at my mercy while I remain clothed. It’s a turn-on.” And also, if he was starkers, she would be able to touch him. If she touched him, he would almost certainly go off before he was meant to. He’d wanted her too damned much for too damned long.

  “You’re kinda kinky, aren’t you?” Her eyes twinkled.

  “Let’s find out, shall we?”

  He didn’t wait for her reply, simply claimed her mouth in a kiss he meant to keep slow and sweet. He wanted to give her an idea of his oral expertise, but slow and sweet quickly became hot and hungry. He lost all control when it came to her. Jolly good thing was, she seemed to suffer the same affliction. In no time, they were eating at each other like starving creatures.

  Long minutes flew by while their tongues dipped and parried, tasted and tangoed. And all the while, from the corner of his eye, her pretty breasts beckoned. Small, soft mounds of flesh topped by tiny pink nipples that reminded him of candy.

  When he could no longer resist their lure, he caught one silky globe in his hand, rubbed his thumb over the tip to make certain it was nice and hard, and then dipped his head to suck it into his mouth.

  Emily buried her hands in his hair, pulling him close. When he flicked the turgid little nub with his tongue, she hissed and arched into him. Then she encouraged him by telling him to “keep going” and “suck harder.”

  He proved that he was as good at taking orders as he was at giving them by doing precisely as she asked. When she cried out his name, he felt like a god. All-powerful, indestructible. Bulletproof.

  His skin felt alive for the first time because she touched it.

  He could feel every individual strand of his hair because she grasped it.

  He could taste every unique note of her skin because it was her skin.

  Emily…

  The woman of his dreams. The woman of his desires. The woman he loved.

  Releasing her nipple, he pulled back and smiled at the glistening point. It was ruby red and fully engorged. Being a fair-minded man, he immediately tended to her other breast.

  Only when both had been thoroughly loved, and when Emily was mewling and squeezing her thighs together to try to alleviate the ache his attention to her nipples had created, did he reclaim her greedy mouth and slowly slide his hand down her flat stomach, past her softly jutting hip bones, to cup her mound.

  Soft…so soft he wanted to weep.

  Swollen…so swollen his cock jumped behind his zipper.

  Wet…so wet he couldn’t stop himself from sliding his fingers inside her folds to find her distended clitoris.

  He was going too fast. He had wanted to go slow, to touch and taste every inch of her before finally bringing her to the inescapable heights of ecstasy. But he was too greedy. Too anxious to please her, to give her the release her writhing body and breathy sighs begged of him.

  Rubbing the bud at the top of her sex, he swallowed her whimpers and smiled when her hands left his hair to grip his shoulders. Her nails dug into his muscles as she mindlessly, wordlessly encouraged more from him.

  Oh, he would give her more. He would give her everything.

  “I’m going to put my fingers inside you,” he whispered against her kiss-swollen lips. “Open your pretty legs for me.”

  Her eyes opened a fraction, and he could see her pupils had dilated to the size of pie plates. She was ready. She was close. And she didn’t hesitate to follow his command, spreading her thighs wide as she planted desperate, biting kisses across his chin.

  Thrilling at her quick acquiescence, he softly, deliberately slid not one but two fingers inside her. He wanted her to feel full, feel stretched and satisfied and pushed to her limit right from the get-go.

  He got his wish.

  She turned her face into him and bit the spot where his neck met his shoulder, crying out at the pressure and the pleasure. Her body pulled his fingers deeper, eager and wanton.

  Oh, ruddy hell. She was tight. And slick. And so unbearably silky. A man’s greatest fantasy come to life, burning hot in his arms. No. Not hot. Volcanic.

  “Please,” she begged when he slowly pumped, testing her boundaries, feeling her delicate muscles contract as he curled his fingers upward, sliding the rough pads of his fingertips against the nerve-rich patch of flesh on the roof of her channel.

  She’d released his shoulder. Now it was her lower lip that was caught between her teeth.

  “Shhh.” He covered her mouth and soothed that delectable lip with his tongue. “I’ll take you where you want to go. Hold on to me. Ride it out. That’s it.”

  Her hips bucked in counter-rhythm to his hand. She was mindless now, seeking pleasure with an uninhibited abandon that delighted him and pushed him too close to the edge.

  He had to swivel his hips away from her. It was either that or go off early like a horny teenager in the back seat of a car. Every time she bucked, her thigh brushed against him, and the friction was building to dizzying heights. Pressing his cock hard into the mattress, both to ease the ache and stave off his brain-melting need to orgasm, he continued to work her body faster, harder.

  Ripples. He felt them start in the muscles deep inside, a telltale sign. Pulling back, he wanted to watch her face the first time she came. And then she was. Coming, that is. Flying apart in his arms. Flinging herself headfirst off the cliffs of pleasure. And it was the most amazing, most brilliant thing he had ever seen.

  Gone. His rational mind.

  Gone. His sense of control.

  Gone. His heart.

  She stole the first two when she threw her head back and screamed his name. As for the third? Well, that was already hers.

  * * *

  Emily was boneless, senseless, sightless.

  Oh, wait. She could still see. Her eyes had simply squeezed tight against an ecstasy unlike any she had ever known.

  As the last shudders of release quivered through her, she cracked open her eyelids to find Christian staring down at her, that self-satisfied grin firmly in place. This time, it didn’t irritate her so much. Probably because this time she was pretty damn satisfied too.

  Talk about an orgasm for the record books. She had no idea how long it had lasted. Ten minutes? An hour? It had felt like forever.
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br />   He was a warlock. She was absolutely convinced of it, because there was undeniable magic in his hands.

  Multiple times, when she had thought she was on the downhill slide of bliss, he had done something with his fingers, pressed, rubbed, pumped, and she had been back at the pinnacle. Coming and coming and coming some more.

  “How was that?” he asked, pressing a soft, hot kiss on her lips.

  She snorted. “You know how it was, you scoundrel. I think I made it obvious.”

  “Well, there were a few signs. You panting ‘yes, yes, yes!’ over and over was one of them. Screaming my name was another. You’re quite loud, Emily.”

  She tilted her head against the quilt. “You thought maybe I wouldn’t be? Hi.” She waved. Wow. Her arm felt like it weighed a hundred pounds. “I’m Emily Scott, office manager and renowned loudmouth.”

  “Hello, Emily Scott.” He caught her lips in another mind-blowing kiss. “I’m Christian Watson. The man who is going to make you come again.”

  As if to prove his point, he pumped his fingers inside her.

  “Oh God, no.” She shook her head, squeezing her thighs around his gently marauding hand. “I can’t. I’m so sensitive.”

  He stilled his fingers before slowly, carefully sliding out of her. Despite her tenderness, her body clutched at him, desperate to keep him inside, hating to let him go.

  “Your mouth says one thing,” he whispered against her lips. “But your greedy little body says another.”

  “My greedy little body is a traitor and an idiot,” she informed him.

  “Traitor?” He pulled back.

  “Every time you get near me, the stupid thing flashes hot and goes all wobbly.”

  “Ah.” He nodded. “How lovely.”

  “Humph. For you maybe, but I—”

  The words strangled in her throat when Christian licked his fingers.

  Heat suffused her. Oh, no he didn’t!

  Her blush deepened when, as if he were tasting ambrosia from heaven, his nostrils flared and his eyes fluttered shut. The man was kinky. And holy shit, apparently she loved it because her womb pulsed with renewed interest.

  “You taste amazing,” he said when he’d finished sucking her release from his fingers. “Salty and tangy. I want more.”

  Before she had time to protest, he dragged her up the bed until her head was cushioned on the pillows. Then, to her wicked heart’s delight, he pulled the lengths of rope from his back pockets. The swiftness with which he secured the ends to the bedposts told her this wasn’t his first rodeo.

  Visions of the other times he must have done this, the other women he must have done it with, tried to invade her brain. She pushed them away with a mighty shove. She would not allow anything to intrude on the glory of being with Christian.

  He was glorious, by the way. Straddling her hips and rising above her like a dark god. His wavy hair was a wild mass due to the careless attention of her fingers. Slashes of red stained his high, cutting cheekbones. And the muscles in his broad shoulders flexed beneath his silk sweater as he secured her wrists with the loose ends of rope.

  Tied. Restrained. A supplicant to his desires.

  A frisson of excitement shot through her, causing her sex to ache. Christian was right. With him, her body was greedy.

  “Not too tight?” he asked after he’d finished securing her.

  She realized she’d offered him no resistance. Instead, she had lain there all docile and pliant.

  Those were two words she’d never thought to use in the same sentence with herself. Emily Scott was the polar opposite of docile or pliant. But maybe that’s why this excited her so much. With Christian, she was exploring another side of her personality.

  Testing the ropes, she found that while not tight—she wasn’t losing circulation or anything—they were definitely secure. This was no pretend bondage. This was the real deal. She couldn’t get out of the ropes if she tried. The only way she was getting free was if he let her. And if the fierce, focused look on his face was anything to go by, he had no intention of letting her.

  “Not too tight,” she assured him. Oh, for crying out loud. Was that husky, reedy-sounding thing really her voice?

  “Brilliant.” He pushed off the bed.

  She immediately missed his heat, the overwhelming presence of him above her. But she forgot all about that when she saw him reach behind his head. He pulled off his sweater in that weird guy way, not by tugging at the hem but by grabbing the collar and whipping it over his head.

  Her breath strangled in her lungs when she was presented with an unencumbered view of his naked torso for the third time in less than twenty-four hours. It was a banner day indeed.

  Man! That thought exploded in her brain. Looking at him was like looking at the epitome of the word.

  Broad, flexing shoulders. Long, strong arms covered in thick, black tattoos. His heavy pectoral muscles were topped by the flat, brown disks of his nipples. Dark, crinkly hair grew sparsely over his chest and compressed into a thin line that trailed down his six-pack abs to disappear into the waistband of his jeans.

  He watched her watching him as he bent to unlace his Italian leather boots. Then he stood, toeing out of them at the same time he unbuttoned his fly. Her eyes drank in every inch of him as it was revealed, including the glory of his red boxer briefs with the word SAXX stitched into the waistband.

  Oh dear, sweet baby Jesus! Talk about a bulge.

  No, not a bulge, it was a fifth appendage. There was no mistaking the length or width or plump, pulsing shape of him inside his tight briefs. Nor was there any mistaking the circle of moisture that stained the fabric near the waistband.

  Her throat dried as if it’d been hit by a desert wind when she realized the wetness was for her, caused by her. He was weeping for want…of her.

  Grabbing the ropes, she dug her nails into the soft chenille and held on for dear life. She knew what came next.

  He took his time shucking his drawers. But when he finally stood before her, gloriously naked, she admitted the wait had been worth it. Full and engorged, his cock jutted proudly from his body. It looked even bigger, if that was possible. Then she realized why.

  He was uncut.

  Of course he is, silly, she scolded herself. He’s English. They don’t circumcise like we do in the United States.

  She should have been prepared for the sight of his member in all its unaltered glory, but she wasn’t. Because his foreskin made him thicker, meatier, more intimidating than any man she’d ever seen.

  On top of that, his thighs were huge and muscular, dusted with crinkly man hair, and she could just glimpse the dimple in one side of his firm ass. To put it mildly, Christian Watson was one big, unrepentantly masculine specimen.

  Come and get me, big boy!

  She tugged at the ropes, suddenly needing to be free. Her fingers itched to touch him.

  “You tied me up before I got the chance to touch you,” she accused him.

  “That was the point, darling.” He crawled over her. “I’ve wanted you too much for too long. If you touched me, I’d pop off in your hands in thirty seconds flat.”

  The thought of feeling his thick, steely shaft jerking with release in her hand made her nipples tighten and the space between her legs contract.

  “You say that like it’s a bad thing,” she panted when he settled himself between her thighs, allowing his shaft to nestle against the slick welcome of her channel as his chest pressed into the soft pillows of her breasts.

  They each hissed at first contact. He was so hard, so hot.

  Rub herself against him like a cat… That’s what she wanted to do. She must’ve unconsciously started because he shook his head. “Ah, ah. None of that or you’ll have me going off against your belly.”

  “Again,” she said breathlessly, “you say that like it’s
a bad thing.”

  “Stop wiggling, Emily. I’ll move off you if you don’t.”

  The thought of him taking all that hardness and heat and delicious man hair away had her dutifully stilling beneath him, a pout on her lips.

  “There’s a good lass.” He sucked her protruding bottom lip into the heat of his mouth.

  She would have slapped him upside the head for being an arrogant, high-handed tyrant if her hands weren’t tied. And if she didn’t secretly like it so much.

  For long moments, they ravaged each other with lips and teeth and tongues. And only when she was panting and hanging on to the ropes with white-knuckled grips in an effort to keep from rubbing herself against him did he break the kiss and start making his way down her body.

  The second time I make you come, it will be with my mouth.

  His words came back to drive her wild with anticipation. She was already slick and aching and ready for another release. It was that easy with him. Five minutes of kissing, and she was on the verge of exploding like an unpinned grenade.

  He latched on to her right breast, and she couldn’t help herself. She gasped and arched against him. The suction of his lips was too much, the flick of his hot, raspy tongue against her nipple made her mindless to anything but pleasure.

  With infinite care, he attended to her other breast before continuing his journey south. He kissed each of her ribs, dipped his tongue into the hollow of her belly button, and gently bit her protruding hip bones.

  By the time he had tossed her legs over his shoulders, she was begging him not to stop, never to stop.

  “You haven’t got to worry about that, my darling,” he purred, his hot breath feathering against her quivering flesh. And then… Oh, and then he put his mouth on her.

  Bull’s-eye!

  The man needed no help locating her clitoris. He placed his lips directly over the sucker. Then he speared it with his tongue, licking, laving, flicking, and sucking until her toes curled and she pulled against her restraints so hard the bedposts groaned.

  A harsh ache centered beneath his adept mouth. But it wasn’t enough. No matter how she writhed or tightened her inner muscles, it wasn’t enough.