On the Naughty List

by Lori Foster

  “You’re not naked, sweetheart.” He touched the waistband of her white cotton bikini panties. “Not that I’m complaining, because this is very cute.”

  “Don’t … don’t make fun of me, Eric.”

  He managed a grin in spite of the hot throbbing of his body. “Why would I make fun of you? Because of your conservative underwear? I like it.”

  “Like you like small breasts?”

  His gaze met hers. In the pose of a confirmed hedonist, she lounged back, face flushed, body open to the pleasure he’d give her. Her dark hair was mussed, her eyes soft, her lips swollen. He absorbed her near nudity, her innate sexuality, and said gently, “Like I like you.”

  Her eyes closed briefly, then opened when he dipped one rough fingertip beneath the waistband of her panties and teased her stomach, low enough to just brush her glossy dark curls, high enough to keep her on a keen edge of need.

  Her breath came in hungry pants. “Are you going to make love to me, Eric?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “When?”

  Situated as he was between her thighs, he could smell her desire, the rich musk of arousal. His nostrils flared. It was a heady scent, mixing with the perfume she’d put on, making his cock surge in his pants, his muscles quiver. “When I think you’re ready.”

  “I’m ready now.”

  “Let’s see.” Slowly, he lifted each of her legs and draped them over the arms of the chair. The position left her wide open in an erotic, carnal posture. Eric trailed his rough fingertips up the insides of her thighs, seeing her suck in her stomach, hearing her gasp. Her breasts heaved in excitement and anticipation.

  She looked so damn enticing he couldn’t resist her. Without warning, he kissed her through the soft damp cotton, his mouth open, his tongue pressing hard. He breathed deeply and felt himself filled with her. He could taste her—and quickly grabbed her hips to hold her steady when she would have lurched away from sheer reaction.

  She said his name in a breathless plea.

  Her response thrilled him, drove him. He wanted to pull her panties aside so his tongue could stroke her slick naked flesh, heated by her desire, silky wet in preparation for much more than his tongue.

  He gave her his finger instead.

  Leaning back to watch her, he wedged his large hand inside her panties, stroked her once, twice, then pressed deep. The instant, almost spastic thrust of her hips, her coarse groan, the spontaneous clasp of hidden muscles, told him she liked that very much.

  “Jesus, you’re tight,” he ground out through clenched teeth, struggling to maintain control. “And wet.”

  “Eric…”

  He stared at her through burning eyes. “Am I hurting you, babe?”

  She groaned, whispered something unintelligible, and her sleek, hot flesh squeezed his finger almost painfully.

  “That’s it,” he encouraged softly, feeling himself near the edge. “Hold on to me.” He stroked, slowly pulling his finger out, then thrusting it back in, deep, teasing acutely sensitive tissues, mesmerized by the sight of his darker hand caught between her white panties and pale belly, her glossy black curls damp with excitement.

  Eyes closed, body arched, she gave herself up to him as he fingered her, stretching her a bit, playing with her a lot. He pressed his finger deeper, measuring her, then pulled out slowly to tease her taut clitoris, making her entire body shudder.

  He wanted all of her at once; he wanted her to feel all the same desperate need he felt. And maybe, just maybe, if he did this well enough, if he made her feel half of what he felt … what? She’d give up the presidency of her father’s company just to marry him?

  Eric hated himself for letting the selfish thought intrude for even one split second. He didn’t want her to give up anything. He didn’t want her to be forced into choices.

  He loved her. Goddamn it.

  To banish those thoughts, he pulled his hand away and stripped her panties down her thighs. She blinked at him, grabbing the chair arms for balance as he readjusted her and then once again settled himself close. Those long luscious legs of hers looked especially sinful lying open, leaving her totally vulnerable to him, displaying her pink feminine flesh, swollen and slick. Her hips lifted, seeking his touch again. He had to taste her, and leaned forward for one leisurely, deep stroke of his tongue.

  Maggie cried out, her entire body jerking in response. Eric was lost.

  With a harsh groan he covered her with his body, kissing her mouth deeply, consuming her, taking what he could because he couldn’t have it all. Her small body cradled his larger frame perfectly. “I want you so fucking much,” he rasped.

  “Yes!”

  He cupped her breast with a roughness he couldn’t control and rocked his hips hard against her, feeling her pulsing heat through his slacks. She was silky soft, warm and female everywhere, and he wanted to absorb every inch of her. With one hand he lifted her soft bottom, grinding himself against her.

  “Eric!”

  Stunned, he looked at her face and watched her climax, her teeth clenched, her throat arched, her breasts flushed. His heart seemed to slow to a near stop as love consumed him, choking out all other emotions.

  She whimpered as he continued to move her against him, more slowly now, carefully dragging out her pleasure, his fingers sinking deep in her soft bottom, letting her ride it out to the last small spasm until finally she stilled and her muscles relaxed.

  Limp, eyelashes damp on her flushed cheeks, her lips still parted, she was even more than he’d ever imagined. Eric gathered her close and rocked her gently, attempting to regain control of his own emotions—which were far beyond sexual.

  As if each limb were made of lead, Maggie struggled to resettle her legs, locking them around his hips. So slowly he couldn’t anticipate what she wanted, she got her arms around his neck, one hand tangled in his hair. Finally her sated, dazed eyes opened.

  “Sorry,” she muttered in such an endearingly drowsy and somewhat shy voice, he couldn’t help but smile with a swell of satisfaction and tenderness.

  His hand still held her small backside and he gave her a gentle, cuddling squeeze. “For what, sweet-heart?” His tone was soft in deference to the moment.

  She studied his face, her own pink, then managed a halfhearted shrug. “Okay. I’m not sorry.” She yawned. “Now will you please make love to me?”

  How humor could get him while he was so rock hard he could have driven in railroad spikes, he didn’t know. But the chuckle bubbled up and he tucked his face into her breasts as he gave in to it.

  “Are you laughing at me?”

  She didn’t sound particularly concerned over that possibility, which made the humor expand.

  “Eric?”

  Her hand tightened in his hair, causing him to wince. He lifted up, kissed the end of the nose, and grinned. “I’m just happy.”

  “Why?”

  Tenderly, he smoothed a tendril of dark hair behind her ear. “Well, now, I just made Maggie Carmichael come. Why else?”

  She snorted, but her face was so hot she looked sunburned. Her hand loosened its grip, her fingers threading through his hair, petting him. “I’ve wanted you so long, it wouldn’t have taken much. Except you kept playing around.…”

  “Look who’s talking.”

  She raised a brow, but the effect was ruined by another yawn.

  “Never mind, sleepyhead. Have I put you out for the night?”

  “Absolutely not.” She shifted subtly, then whispered, “I’m just dying to feel you inside me, Eric.”

  “Jesus.” He didn’t feel like laughing now. Though his legs were shaky, he managed to loosen her hold and stand. He didn’t want to make love to her in a damn chair. He wanted her in bed, under him, accepting him.

  He reached a hand out to her and when she took it, he hauled her up—and then over his shoulder.

  “Eric!”

  Flipping the robe out of his way, he pressed his cheek to her hip and kissed her rounded behind.
“The bedrooms are upstairs?”

  She had both hands latched on to his belt in back, hanging on for dear life. “Yes, but don’t you dare.… Eric, put me down!”

  Instead, he stroked the backs of her thighs with his free hand as he started up the steps. Using just his fingertips, he teased her with light butterfly touches, getting her ready again, keeping her ready.

  “Eric … Eric.” She groaned as he explored her.

  FOUR

  “I’m done playing, Eric. Make love to me.”

  As if he hadn’t heard her, Eric strolled into the bedroom and slowly brought her around in his arms. His strength amazed her, not that she was a heavyweight, but considering how boneless she felt right now … Of course, he hadn’t climaxed.

  And she wanted to remedy that as soon as possible.

  The second her feet touched the floor, she reached for his belt. Thankfully, he didn’t stop her. Instead he began emptying his pants pockets, putting his wallet, a condom, and the sprig of mistletoe he’d removed earlier from the office doorway, onto her nightstand. Seeing the condom and the mistletoe so close together, Maggie shivered.

  As she hurriedly worked on his clothes, Eric calmly unknotted the fabric belt still caught around her waist. He finished first and tossed her robe aside. His hands, so incredibly large and warm, settled on her waist, holding her loosely, allowing her to slide his leather belt free and then waiting patiently while she unbuttoned and unzipped his slacks.

  “Your hands are shaking,” he noted.

  She peeked up at him. “I’m excited. I’ve wanted you … well, longer than you can imagine.”

  “Try me.”

  To distract him from her words, she abandoned his slacks and quickly began unbuttoning his shirt. The promise of his nudity gave her incentive and her fingers literally flew until his shirt was hanging open.

  With a type of reverent awe, she bared his chest. Fingers spread, she ran her hands over his upper torso, absorbing the feel of crisp dark hair, solid muscle, and manly warmth. “I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you.”

  The breathless words took him by surprise, then skepticism narrowed his eyes. “You were barely seventeen, sweetheart. A child.”

  “Mmmm. And so creative.” With the edge of her thumb, Maggie brushed his right nipple and heard his intake of breath. His knees locked. “I got so tongue-tied around you,” she whispered, “because at night, alone in my bed, I imagined this very thing. Touching you, having you touch me.”

  She looked up, saw his flared nostrils, the dark aroused color high on his cheekbones, and she went on tiptoe to kiss his chin, now rough with beard stubble.

  Eric caught her wrists as she began a downward descent to his slacks. “You’re saying you fantasized about me?”

  “From the very beginning.” She pulled her hands free and sank to her knees in front of him. She felt like a sexual supplicant, kneeling before him, naked, hot. His erection was a thick ridge plainly visible through his slacks. She leaned forward and pressed her cheek to him, nuzzling. “There’s nothing I haven’t done to you in my imagination.”

  “Maggie.” One large hand cupped around her head, trembling.

  “Lift your foot.” He obliged and she tugged off first one shoe and sock, then started on the other. Her face close to his groin, deliberately tantalizing herself—and probably him, given how heavy his breathing had become—she knotted her hands in his slacks and pulled them down.

  Eric didn’t move as she reached for his snug cotton boxers. More slowly now, savoring the moment, she bared him.

  Her breath caught. She’d never seen a fully grown man naked, up close, personal. She’d seen photos, which didn’t do the male form justice.

  Tentatively, she touched him with just her fingertips and then smiled as he jerked, his erect flesh pulsing, hot. A drop of fluid appeared on the broad head, and she used the tip of one finger to spread it around, testing the texture, exploring him.

  Breath hissed out from between his teeth. “That’s enough.”

  Maggie paid him no mind. In her novels, the men always pleasured the women with their mouths; the very idea of it excited her incredibly. But now she wondered why the reverse had never occurred to her. The idea of taking Eric into her mouth, licking him, tasting him, flooded her with heat and doubled her own desire.

  “Tell me if I do this wrong,” she whispered. And even as he cautioned her to stop, his voice a low, harsh growl, she wrapped one small hand around him to hold him steady. Amazingly, she could feel the beat of his heart in her palm, could feel him growing even more. Her tongue flattened on the underside of his hot, smooth flesh, slowly stroked up and over the tip—and Eric shattered.

  She’d barely realized the taste of him, the velvety texture, before he went wild, shaking and gasping. He roughly pulled her to her feet and she found herself tossed on the bed. Before she’d finished bouncing, Eric had kicked his pants off and donned a rubber.

  She opened her arms to him and he came down on top of her. Using his knee, he spread her legs wide, then wider still. “I wanted this to be slow,” he said through his teeth, reaching down to open her with his fingers, “but I can’t wait now.”

  She started to say she was glad, that she didn’t want to wait, but then he thrust hard, entering her, filling her up, and she lost her breath in a rush.

  It wasn’t at all as she’d imagined, smooth and easy and romantic. Instead, Eric anchored a hand in her hair and held her face still for an all-consuming, wet kiss that made it impossible to breathe, impossible to think. He stroked into her fast and hard. Deep. And though she was aware of her own wetness, her own carnal need, the tight friction was incredible.

  Her senses rioted over a mix of heated perceptions. There was discomfort, because she was small and inexperienced, but also building pleasure, too acute to bear, because this was Eric and she’d wanted him forever.

  Not romantic, but so wonderful, so real and erotic and …

  Her climax hit suddenly, making her clutch at him, her fingers digging deep into his shoulders, her heels pressing hard into the small of his back. Eric lifted his head, jaw locked tight, eyes squeezed shut, and gave a raw groan as he came.

  Through the haze of her own completion, Maggie watched him. She loved him so much, and she wanted him, in every way, always. Seeing his every muscle taut and trembling, his temples damp with sweat, left her feeling curiously tender, softened by the love and the depletion of physical strength.

  Eric slowly, very slowly, lowered himself back into her arms. His heart beat so hard against her breast, she felt it inside herself. Threading her fingers through his warm, silky hair, she said, “Eric?”

  He gave a small grunt that she supposed might have been a response.

  “Will you stay the night with me? Please?” If he refused, if he left now and this was all she’d ever have, her heart would simply crumble, leaving her empty.

  But he didn’t refuse her. Instead, his arms tightened and he rolled to his side, bringing her with him. Long seconds led into longer minutes before his breathing ultimately evened out. Idly, he stroked her, her shoulder, her hip, her back. “I’m not going anywhere,” he finally said in a rough whisper.

  She snuggled closer, letting out the breath she’d been holding.

  Eric kissed her forehead and, with a sigh, moved to leave the bed. Enjoying the sight of his naked backside, Maggie watched him go into the bathroom, heard running water, the flush of the toilet, and then he came back. The condom was gone and Eric, in full frontal nudity, his sex now softly nestled in dark hair, was more appealing than she’d ever imagined a man could be. Amazingly, she wanted him again. She licked her lips.

  Eric smiled at her as he climbed back into bed. “You little wanton, you,” he whispered, and she heard the amusement in his tone. Tucking her into his side and covering them both, he affected a serious tone. “Maggie, this was your first—”

  “Yes.” She felt a little embarrassed over her inexperience. “I didn’t wa
nt anyone but you. Not ever.”

  He absorbed that statement with a heavy silence, then kissed her temple with a gentleness that brought tears to her eyes. “I want you to tell me about this long-hidden admiration you have for me.”

  Maggie knew her time had come. It took her several seconds to screw up her courage before she could force herself to look up and face Eric. When she did, his hand cupped her cheek and there was a softness in his expression she’d never seen before.

  She swallowed hard. “Not an admiration, Eric. Love.”

  He remained quiet, waiting.

  “I’ve loved you,” she declared, “since the first time I saw you. My father knew it, and that’s why he left me the company. He believed you wanted it, and he had hoped … that is, he thought that perhaps the company would be a lure, to get you to notice me.”

  Eric stared at her as if someone had just hit him in the stomach. She felt him tense and prayed he’d at least hear her out.

  Rushing, hoping to get it all said before she chickened out, she explained, “I don’t want the company, Eric. I never have. I wish I’d known what my father was going to do, because I would have stopped him. Not only did it not lure you in, you’ve been distant since I got the damn controlling stock.”

  Eric sat up, his expression dumbfounded. Feeling suddenly naked, Maggie clutched the sheet to her throat and came up to her knees. “Eric, I swear we didn’t mean to manipulate you. That is, I didn’t even know until it was too late—”

  “Shh.” Eric put a finger to her lips, silencing her. He looked thoughtful, with a frown that wasn’t quite annoyance, but rather confusion. “You don’t want to run the company?”

  Since his finger was still pressed to her mouth, she didn’t try to reply. Instead, she shook her head.

  Eric left the bed to pace. That was enough of a distraction to make her regret the damn topic. She wanted him back in bed with her. She wanted to do more exploring.

  “Now that we’re involved,” he said, and he looked at her, daring her to challenge his statement, “there’s going to be some gossip.”