by Jane Graves
She knew the power of sex. She always had.
He curled his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her to his mouth, plunging his tongue inside in a deep, blistering kiss that made the one he’d given her downstairs pale in comparison. He shoved his other hand beneath her shirt and circled it around to the small of her back, his rough fingertips rasping against her skin as he pulled her closer still, his mouth burning against hers.
God, this man could kiss.
Then a sense of desperation crept in. She had no delusions that he’d suddenly fallen madly in love with her. There was a big difference between love and lust, and Dave DeMarco was experiencing a major case of lust.
He saved love for women like Carla.
No. Maybe it wouldn’t be that way. Not if she made it so good for him that he forgot all about his dead wife. Made it the best sex he’d ever had in his life, so he would want to come back again and again and Carla would slip further and further from his mind. She wanted him to feel every sexual tremor like an earthquake inside him, to associate the sight of her, the feel of her, the very smell of her with the most incredible sensations of his life. She wanted to make sure that from this moment forward, every time he thought about sex, hers would be the face he would see.
Sorry, Carla. You can’t have him. Tonight, he’s mine.
She tore her lips away from his and sat up, unbuttoned his shirt, and spread it apart, stroking her hands over the rigid muscles of his chest. Then she leaned back in, trailing her lips over his jaw, his neck, feeling the roughness of a day’s growth of his beard against her cheek. His hands clenched against her thighs.
“Inside,” he murmured.
“No.”
“Lisa—”
“Right here.”
She knew how daring it felt to be outside in the night air surrounded by city lights, how outrageous, how illicit, and how much it heightened the pleasure, the excitement. Most of all, she knew beyond all doubt that his precious Carla would never have been caught dead having wild, scorching sex on a balcony.
Before he could even think about objecting again, she sat up quickly, undid a few of the buttons of her shirt, and slipped it off over her head, flinging it aside. She rested her palms on his shoulders, leaned in, and kissed him again, brushing the tips of her breasts against his bare chest.
“The balcony’s secluded,” she whispered. “It’s dark. Trees all over the place.”
“If someone sees—”
“They’ll get a hell of a good show. I promise you.”
chapter eleven
All at once, Dave didn’t give a damn. Inside, outside, upside down—any way he could have her, that was how he wanted her. He didn’t care if the whole world was watching. It was as if his mind had blanked out completely. And no wonder. With Lisa half-naked on top of him, face-to-face with him, her thighs spread, every inch of her body within touching or kissing distance—how the hell could he think about anything else?
Lisa touched her lips to his ear and whispered, “What do you want? Tell me what you want.”
Good God—what didn’t he want? “That’s like giving a hungry man a smorgasbord,” he said breathlessly, “and asking him to choose.”
She leaned away a little. “So you’re a hungry man?”
He stared back at her, feeling something more than need. More than desire. A deeper, darker, almost primitive sensation swept through him.
“Starving,” he said.
She threaded her fingers through his hair and fell into him again, kissing him deeply. He closed his palms over her breasts, astonished to finally be touching what he’d only admired from a distance. God, they were beautiful, heavy and full, with hard, pointed nipples. She moaned against his lips, pressing herself against his hands, begging for more. He obliged, his gentle caresses becoming rougher as he kneaded her breasts, squeezing and releasing, his thumbs tripping back and forth over her nipples. She ripped her mouth away from his with a gasp of pleasure, tilting her head back and closing her eyes.
Bending forward, Dave held her breasts and kissed the valley between them, inhaling the scent of her. He turned his head and kissed the inner swell of one, then dragged his mouth across it until he reached her nipple. He flicked it with his tongue, then took the tender flesh into his mouth and sucked hard. She groaned with pleasure, digging her fingertips into his shoulders and grinding herself into his erection straining against his jeans. Her breathing escalated, becoming harsh and needy.
“I want you naked,” she said suddenly, and before he could even think about granting her wish her hands were on his belt buckle. In seconds she had it undone and was opening the buttons of his jeans with a proficiency that astonished him. She stood up, pulling off everything south of his waist in a single swoop.
Dave was already way past caring that they might be providing an X-rated show to anyone who went to the effort to peer through a few leafy branches, particularly when Lisa stood in front of him and ripped the fly of her own jeans open with a sudden flick flick flick flick of the buttons. She slid her hands down inside the jeans alongside her hips and pushed them off, taking her panties with them and kicking them both aside. Suddenly she was naked in front of him, illuminated by the pale moonlight—shapely hips, slender waist, full breasts. All woman. Every single beautiful inch of her.
She glided back on top of him again, wrapping her hand around his cock, stroking it, rubbing the length of him against her. She was already hot and wet, and he wanted nothing more than to—
All at once he clutched her hands. “Condom,” he muttered. “Damn it. I don’t have a condom.”
She leaned over, snagging the leg of her jeans she’d just ripped off. She reached inside a pocket and extracted a plastic packet.
He stared up at her with surprise. “Where’d you get that?”
“Do you really care?”
“God, no.” He reached for it, but she was already ripping it open. As she rolled it down over him, moving her hands in long, smooth strokes, he dropped his head back against the sofa, his fingers tightening against her thighs in anticipation. She guided him back between her legs, and in one smooth, forceful stroke she drove down on top of him. He grasped her hips with a stifled curse, gritting his teeth against the indescribable pleasure that streaked through him. Momentarily paralyzed, he held her in place for a few seconds until he could breathe again.
“More,” she whispered, her voice rough and demanding. “More. . . .”
He exhaled, easing his grip, and she rose on her knees until only the tip of him was inside her, then rode down the length of him again. She was hot and moist and tight beyond belief, and as she pumped up and down a third time, then a fourth, he caught her rhythm, guiding her with his hands. She increased her pace, clutching his shoulders to steady herself as she rocked on her knees against the worn vinyl cushion, grinding deep, taking every inch of him with every stroke. The cool night air skated across his sweat-sheened skin, but all he felt was heat. For years Lisa had moved like a shadow along the periphery of his mind, teasing him, tempting him. To have her on top of him now, naked and eager, felt like a fantasy come to life.
He opened his eyes, surprised to see her staring down at him as she thrust wildly, her red-gold hair fluttering against her forehead with every stroke. There was something so erotic about her watchful gaze, about the way she drove down on him with such focused intent, as if she was reading every move he made as a desire expressed and giving it back to him tenfold.
“God, Lisa. . . .”
“Just feel it,” she murmured. “Feel it. . . .”
He dropped his head against the back of the sofa, squeezing his eyes closed again, astonished at how unbelievably fast the sensation was building inside him, like storm water pressing against a dam, threatening to burst right through. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew he should take control, take things slower, but the urgency was so powerful, so abrupt, so razor sharp that he couldn’t have harnessed it if his life depended on it
. He dug his fingers into her hips, moving her faster, as a whirlpool of blind sensation sucked him into its depths.
When the first shock wave hit him, a low groan rose from his chest. She clamped down hard around him even as she continued to thrust wildly, moving against him with ferocious intent.
“Oh, God, Lisa. . . .”
He ground out the words through clenched teeth, bowing his head forward, then throwing it back again as one hot, shuddering spasm after another crashed into him. They seemed to go on forever, fueled by the heat and pressure of her, by the wild, relentless way she thrust herself down on him.
As the feeling subsided, she slowed her pace, but still she moved against him, coaxing every tremor of pleasure from his body that she possibly could, until finally her movements wound down and she sagged against him, her forehead resting on his shoulder. He held her tightly, still deep inside her, immersed in the feeling of their bodies joined together.
“Should have gone slower,” he said, breathing hard. “That was too fast for you. Had to be—”
She put her fingertips against his mouth, then replaced them with her lips, leaning into him with a hot, moist, lazy kiss. After a moment she started to rise, but he pulled her back, not yet ready to feel the cool mountain air dissipate the heat between them. But she persisted, rising to her feet in front of him and walking to the patio door. Stopping there, she turned back and gave him a long, slow, appraising stare. Then she disappeared into the room.
What the hell was she doing?
After a moment, Dave got a grip on his still-labored breathing, then got up and followed her inside. The sudden warmth of the room made the sweat that had beaded on his forehead trickle down his temples. He looked first at the bed. She wasn’t there. Then he heard the shower running and felt a surge of disappointment.
A woman disappearing into the bathroom after sex—that had to be a bad sign. It had been too fast. He knew that now for sure. But she’d felt so good—so hot, so eager, so seemingly ready for him—that he hadn’t been able to hold off for five minutes, and now all she wanted to do was wash away the experience.
Well, shit.
Then the bathroom door slowly opened. Lisa leaned against the door frame, her arms folded beneath her breasts. In the dim light of the hotel room he thought he saw her smile.
“Dave?”
“Yeah?”
“How do you feel about sex in the shower?”
His brain had barely comprehended that she was issuing him invitation number two of the evening before he felt an erection leaping to life all over again.
Amazing.
“Come here,” she said.
He walked to the bathroom door. She pulled him inside, shut the door behind him, dousing the light at the same time and plunging them both into total darkness. She pressed him back against the closed door, circling her arms around his neck and kissing him. He wrapped his arms around her and hauled her right up next to him until the length of her body was pressed against his—firm thighs, soft breasts, hot, silky lips. She slid her hand between them, circling it around his rapidly hardening erection.
“I think you’re ready for round two,” she said.
“You’ve got my attention.”
She took him by the hand, and they carefully made their way through the dark bathroom, his feet sinking into the oversize plush bathmat, and stepped blindly into the shower. Wrapped in each other’s arms, they moved beneath the shower, the water washing over their bodies. Dave kissed her for a long time, their hands playing over each other in the dreamy haziness created by the hot water and the steam billowing up and the darkness surrounding them.
To his surprise, she maneuvered him around until his back was to the shower spray, then moved up behind him. “Officer?”
He blinked with surprise.
“This time you’re the one under arrest,” she said, her voice hot and provocative. “Put your hands against the wall.”
His heart jolted hard, and for a moment all he could do was stand there, speechless.
“Oh, this is bad,” she murmured, running her hands over his shoulders, down his arms, and back up again. “My suspect is resisting arrest. What do you suggest I do?”
“Well,” he said, “I usually start suggesting at the top of my lungs that maybe he ought to cooperate. Lots of profanity. You know. Intimidation.”
“Hmm. I’m afraid that might ruin the mood a bit.” She paused. “How about if I just promise to frisk you really, really good?”
Yep, she’s got you, he thought. It’s definitely in your best interest to cooperate.
He placed his palms against the wall. Several seconds passed, and just as he was wondering what she was up to, he was treated to the incredible feeling of her warm, soft breasts slick with soapsuds, moving against his back. She rested her cheek against his back with a hum of satisfaction, then slid her hands around his hips, down to his thighs, then back up to his waist, up and down, moving inward each time. Finally she closed the hot, soapy fingers of one hand around his cock, moving them up and down in long, smooth strokes.
Jesus Christ.
His palms still pressed to the wall, he bowed his head as unbelievably powerful sensations rose inside him all over again. She rubbed her breasts against his back as she continued stroking him with soapy hands, making him rock-hard all over again.
After a few minutes, she moved her hands back up to his hips. “Turn around.”
He turned and reached for her, but she was already slithering downward, dragging her breasts along his chest, his abdomen, and then her hands were on his thighs. He couldn’t see her in the dark, but he knew she’d fallen to her knees in front of him.
She must have moved slightly, because the shower spray suddenly hit him, rinsing away the soapsuds below his waist. Then he felt her hand wrap around his cock. She stroked the length of him once, twice. On the third stroke, her mouth followed her hand.
He shuddered as her mouth closed around him, licking, sucking, tasting him, back and forth. As the water beat down on them, his hands rose almost involuntarily to cradle her head. He laced his fingers through her hair, clenching them against her scalp. With a low, harsh groan he dropped his head back against the wall. She took that as encouragement, drawing him in even deeper with an incredible fusion of lips and tongue, along with a mind-blowing suction that created a sensation unlike anything he’d ever felt before. The sound of the shower roared in his ears, the feel of her mouth and hands driving him right to the edge again. If he didn’t stop her right now . . .
He grabbed her by the upper arms and hauled her to her feet. Breathing hard, he turned and pressed her to the shower wall.
“Guess I’d make a lousy cop,” she said. “I didn’t move fast enough with the handcuffs.”
Dave leaned in and kissed her neck, feeling her pulse beating wildly in her throat, then nipped her earlobe. “I don’t think you want me restrained.”
In the darkness, he moved his hands to her breasts, finding them still slick with soapsuds. He squeezed them firmly, his thumbs strumming her nipples, then moved his hand down between her legs, cupping the soft flesh of her inner thigh before easing upward to meet her hot, slick cleft. She exhaled, her fingertips digging into his shoulders as he stroked her there, her hips rocking slightly, her breath coming faster.
Yes. This was what he wanted. To hear her anticipation, to feel her move against him, to sense her rising excitement. Suddenly he hated the darkness, wishing he could watch her face, wishing he could see her expression reflecting the pleasure he wanted her to feel. Then all at once she took his hand, stilling it.
“What?” he asked.
She pulled back the shower curtain with the clink of metal rings and a blast of cool air. A moment later she closed it again. He heard a small tearing sound and realized that she’d grabbed a condom. Her hand searched for him in the darkness, met his chest, then slid it down to his cock, where she rolled the condom in place. Then she circled her hands around his neck, her w
arm breath only a scant inch from his lips, her voice low and hoarse.
“Just fuck me.”
Getting zapped with a stun gun couldn’t have matched the jolt of pure lust that shot through him. When she took his cock and pressed it between her legs, he sank into her with a groan of satisfaction, astonished at how incredible it felt to be inside her again. He took her right up against the shower wall with swift, powerful strokes, engulfed in darkness, water beating down on them like a rainstorm. She curled one heel around his calf to open herself more to him and pull him in more deeply. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, trying to maintain some semblance of control, but still he was shaking, his muscles tense, his heart beating unmercifully. She was so hot. So wet. And he was so unbelievably close.
“Yes,” she whispered as he pounded into her relentlessly. “Just like that. Yes.”
She shifted slightly to take him deeper yet, whispering in his ear the whole time, driving him right to the peak of excitement. He felt the rising pressure and froze, poised on the edge, and in the next moment an orgasm blasted through him, hitting him with the intensity of a battering ram. He thrust wildly, feeling as if he were being torn apart from the inside out. Lisa kept pace with his final strokes, driving herself against him, her breath reduced to short, hard gasps.
He clung to her as the sensations wound down, dropping his head against her shoulder, every muscle in his body falling limp with satisfaction. He slid out of her and backed against the adjacent shower wall, pulling her up against him, enveloping her in his arms as the last tremors of pleasure faded away.