by Julie Kenner
“Cam…” she said, leaning forward with earnest sincerity and not in some slutty move to flash him her breasts.
The breast move worked. She could see that some of the determination faded, and when he spoke, he spoke to her cleavage. “Jenna, this is not smart.”
“Smart? You will lecture me on smart? This from the man who mutilates his body on an annual basis? I’d say that the smartest move you could make was to—” she waved a fill-in-the-blank hand “—make a move.”
Silently he stared, but she was winning, and now they both knew it. It was there in the furtive glances that dipped beyond her Pilates-flat belly, toward the front of the sheer, extraordinarily sheer, black lace panties.
Boldly she opened her legs, splayed them in a triple-X move that was designed to draw attention to her pelvic region.
His gaze locked there. Glazed. Almost Pavlovian. Fascinating.
“I’m still leaving in the morning,” he stated firmly, ceding the battle but claiming the war.
As if.
Jenna smiled her sweetest, most innocent smile and stood. She reached behind her, trying to unhook her bra, but the clasp was stuck or maybe her fingers were swollen. Whatever the case, she couldn’t undo the tiny eye hooks. Who the hell had designed this sucker? Master Lock?
Before she made a complete fool of herself, he turned her, and she felt his hands on her back. Some of the cold melted away. He had nice hands. Large, rough palms and long fingers that were destined to know the secret of the bra clasp.
But he didn’t undo it right away. Instead, those big hands slid beneath the strap, stroking, caressing.
“What are you doing?”
“Touching you. I thought that was the idea. You’re very touchable.”
The long strokes continued, up and down, excruciatingly gentle. “I thought you were a builder,” she murmured, tilting her head back, eyes closed, in imminent danger of losing all sense of balance.
“Yeah. So?”
“You don’t have a builder’s hands,” she said, her breath escaping on a whisper.
“You don’t have a doctor’s breasts, but you don’t see me ragging on you about it.”
“What sort of breasts do I have?” she asked, swallowing when his hands moved up, curling around her shoulders, her neck. Not content, those hands slid down her front, slipping beneath the silken fabric of the bra, freeing her breasts.
“Soft to the touch, highly sensitive.” His thumbs flicked over the twin nipples, toying them to attention, and Jenna felt her knees start to tremble. He pulled her closer, bracing her from shoulder to knee. She felt the bulky chest, the rough friction of his jeans against her bare skin, and the long piece of his cock that was pressing impatiently against her ass.
He continued the sure movements with his hands, a slow languid survey that was turning her to a boneless mass of tissue and nerves. It had been so long since she’d felt like this. Relaxed, pleasured…healed. Next his clever mouth explored the slope of her neck, finding an erotic little spot behind her ear that she didn’t even know she had.
“There?” he asked.
“There is nice,” she said on a sigh.
While his mouth dallied, his hands moved lower, beneath the band of the panties. “You don’t have a doctor’s underwear, either.”
“You have a problem with that?” she asked, liking this teasing, liking the touch. He’d surprised her with this. Surprised her with his patience. It wasn’t easy for her to relax; there was always something else on the list to be done. But right now, she only wanted to do this.
“I want you to lose them,” he whispered, sliding the scrap of material down her legs, until it fell to the floor, leaving her bare except for hose and heels. Yes, it wasn’t completely comfortable, but she was okay with that, because she was starting to feel…sexy.
His rough thumbs traced over her cheeks, parting the highly charged flesh, and making her hips tighten with his flirting touch. “So soft, so tempting. An ass this fine should not be covered.”
“There are a lot of nerve endings there,” she explained, not that he needed the anatomical education, but by talking, by keeping her mind focused on the logistics of what they were doing, she didn’t feel quite so…emotional.
Not that emotional was a bad thing, but she did twelve-hour rotations with her feelings packed in ice. Letting go wasn’t easy for her. Letting someone else take over wasn’t in her nature.
In fact, her body jerked in protest, just from the feel of his hands. He cupped her cheeks, kneaded, and her body jerked again. Toward him. “It’s a very sensitive area,” she hissed, her eyes desperately locked to the view from his window. She wanted him to stop touching her, even while she could feel the moisture beading down her thigh. Her instinct was to turn to see, to watch, to know what to expect, but the complex sensations that were roiling inside her kept her frozen, nervous and highly aroused.
She heard a shuffling noise and felt him press his mouth to said sensitive nerve endings, and she shivered at the frankly wicked touch. Standing naked while a man kissed her ass hadn’t been in her nature either…until now.
Then his hand slid between her legs, one long finger finding the heavy seam that frankly couldn’t take much more. She heard his sigh and wondered how he could be so relaxed, when she was about to hit the ceiling. Her hands fisted, clenched, in a mirror move to the stroke of his hands. Every nerve, every muscle, every cell in her was tuned to the rhythm of that finger. Slyly he explored between her thighs, the vulva, expanding the labia majora, and then oh please yes…the labia minora.
“More. Nerve endings. There,” she bit out, her muscles clenched because Cam was finding each and every sensory receptor, and did she know she could get this stimulated?
His mouth touched her, and her heart stopped.
“Cam…” she pleaded, because this wasn’t her.
He took pity on her, and in one easy move, he lowered her to the couch and slid his big body over her, his eyes remarkably tender for a man who assaulted himself on an annual basis.
“The first time I saw you, I got embarrassingly hard, thinking of you…like this.” He gaze raked over her, heavy-lidded and hungry, and instantly Jenna knew what was for dinner. Instead of being nervous, she felt tense and raw…excited.
“The first time you saw me, you had a concussion. Vision can be…compromised.”
“There were two of you. Both of you were naked.”
Then his mouth took hers, soft on her lips, and she could taste him, taste herself. His tongue slid between her lips, so slow, so insidious. Once again, there was that rhythm.
She loved the way he kissed, that easy slow glide of his tongue that lulled her like the ocean. Her bare hips rose higher, grinding against the thick bulge in his jeans, so close, yet so far…. He laughed, low and dastardly, and then thrust against her, denim to skin, and her eyes drifted closed. This time when his hands returned to her thighs, she was the one who sighed, arching her swollen breasts into the rough cotton of his shirt. Then his finger slid inside her again, and she laughed, trying for low and dastardly, as well. Instead, she sounded nervous.
For good reason.
His tongue licked her belly, the curve of her waist, and she sucked in a breath at the decadent contact, feeling an answering pulse of desire between her legs.
“Cam?”
“Yes,” he whispered in between those magical kisses.
His hands parted her soft folds, and he pressed a hungry kiss there…in the clitorial region, where a large earthquake was starting to form.
Her hips arched up to meet that talented, tickling tongue.
“You don’t…have a builder’s…mouth,” she told him, trying to keep her brain from exploding.
Cam lifted his head and smiled. “It’s all engineering. Every component can only stand so much stress before it buckles.”
And then he proceeded to demonstrate. The stroke of his tongue was longer, more liquid, or maybe that was her, but she could definitely fe
el the force of the orgasm building inside her. Each flick across her überjuiced flesh created a new tremor. Her heels dug into the couch, sliding back and forth. The ever-increasing pressure began to drive her to the breaking point.
“Cam,” she warned, her hands grabbing the cotton of his shirt. She wanted skin, she wanted flesh. She wanted relief.
“Break for me,” he ordered, and then he took her clit in his mouth and suckled her. Hard. The spasms began, her muscles primed for explosion.
It was too much. Jenna shattered.
4
CAM ROSE UP on his elbows and decided that he’d never seen anything so heart-stoppingly sexy in his entire life. Dr. Jenna Ferrar was splayed on his couch, her face flushed with satisfaction, long dark hair playing peekaboo with the dusky nipples and long legs encased in sheer black hose. The gleaming evidence of her pleasure glistened on the swollen pink skin between her thighs.
Cam closed his eyes for a second, memorizing the image.Until her brisk fingers started working the buttons on his shirt. “I don’t understand why everything is so small.”
He moved her hands aside, helping her. “It’s a good thing you’re not a surgeon.”
“Oh, blow me, mister. Get the shirt off. Drop the trousers.”
Not only capable, but bossy, as well. Happily, Cam obeyed, tossing his clothes aside, until he was flat over her.
However, he wouldn’t let her lose the hose. “You can’t,” he said, when she would have taken them off. “I’m still living out fantasies I didn’t even know I had.”
She laughed and pulled his mouth down to hers. “How can you wake up in the morning and leave this?” she whispered against his lips, and he wanted to argue. To tell her that this was a pleasant diversion, but that tomorrow he still had plans. However, then he felt that bossy tongue in his mouth, her legs wrapping around him, her hips grinding against him, back and forth, and there was no argument in the world that would have kept him from this.
“Inside me. Please,” she urged, and she didn’t have to say anything twice.
He sheathed his cock in a condom, pushed deep inside her and watched as her eyes turned wild. Damn, he loved to see that. The cool, composed doctor stripped bare, lying beneath him. He’d wanted her for so long.
Wanted this.
Jenna.
Tight. Wet. Surrounding him.
Each time he moved, her eyes flared open, so startled, so shocked, so…good.
She looked up at him, pouting breasts, her mouth open and moist. There was such a storm in her expressive dark eyes. Pure pleasure. Pure lust.
He kissed that mouth, his tongue thrusting inside her, his cock thrusting inside her. Her hands grabbed at his back, his ass, urging him on.
Cam began to move faster.
Her fingernails raked over his back; there would be marks, but he didn’t mind. He lifted her hips higher, raising her up, losing himself in that hot, wet channel. As he listened to the slap of skin, the heavy gasps of much-needed air, he forgot about the boat race, forgot about his plans and just focused on this. On her.
“Come, Jenna.”
“Faster. Need faster,” she ordered.
Cam drove in harder, deeper, back and again, until his body felt like fire. He could feel the climax inside him, feel the juices waiting to flow, and he knew he couldn’t last much longer. But still, he wanted her over, wanted her first, and he curved those pretty legs over his shoulders, staring straight into paradise, watching the joining of their bodies, watching her hips arch higher and higher.
The mantel clock struck midnight. April Fools’.
Cam could only smile.
JENNA WAS GOING to die. Cardiac arrest. She could feel the overtaxed organ pumping in time with Cam’s powerful thrusts; her body wasn’t going to survive. Desperate, she grabbed a fistful of couch and held on tight, trying to breathe, trying to scream.
She could see him watching her. See the determination in his face, the sheen of sweat that slicked his hair, his chest.Oh, yes.
This wasn’t like the other orgasm. All golden, nice and pretty. This was dark and wicked and powerful, and she was going to use dirty words and swear and promise many things that she had never promised to a man before, and…
Oh, yes…
His chest was heaving. Great, large exertions. A builder’s chest, a builder’s cock.
He was pulling her apart, splitting her in two. Every time she thought she was there, he’d thrust even harder, pushing her further than any human being could possibly survive. The orgasm was there, building between her legs, in her throat. With one mighty thrust, he tore deep inside her, beyond the womb, beyond the mind, beyond the heart. Jenna shoved a fist in her mouth and swallowed a scream. Finally, finally, she came.
CAM WAS HEAVY and large and slightly sweaty, and partially comatose. Jenna had never felt anything so beautiful. She could smell the soapy shampoo that he used, the tangy underpinnings of male sweat and the musky smell of sex.
“That was awesome,” said Jenna, and then giggled. Oh, man, she was regressing.“More than that.”
“Cam?”
“Don’t ask me to move. I can’t.”
“I don’t feel my legs.”
He pinched her on the ass. “Can you feel that?”
“Are you on medication?”
“Nope.” He lifted his face, and flashed her the world’s goofiest grin. “Just one horny man and one very naughty doc.”
Weakly, Jenna lifted a hand and slapped him on the back. There was no hostility, more of I-need-to-touch-your-body tickle. “Cam?”
He took her mouth and started to kiss her. Her muscles began to stir, his cock began to stir. Just when she was sure she couldn’t fully appreciate this, that her muscles were too atrophied to move, he slipped inside her and she began to fully appreciate it. Jenna’s juices began to stir again.
The human body was a miraculous thing.
Who knew?
April 1, 3:00 a.m.
THREE HOURS LATER, they’d moved from the couch to the floor. Jenna had lost the shoes and the hose, Cam had lost his mind several times over. Part of him knew why she was here, knew that he shouldn’t be all so tongue-wagging happy about it, that he should be plotting his escape to the boat race. But a naked woman should never be ignored. When she was intelligent, ambitious and smoking hot, as well, it made ignoring her impossible.
His randy cock agreed.Still, in spite of the sex, his watch had stayed on, and eventually he was going to have to move. Midnight was fast approaching; he was going to have to leave.
“Why don’t you lose the watch?”
The way she said it, it was all so innocent, all so completely without motive, but the doc did nothing without motive, without altruistic purpose.
Cam, on the other hand, had no such scruples.
He rolled her underneath him, his mouth latching onto her breast. She loved that, her head falling back, her mouth falling slack, her dark lashes falling low, and Cam was not one to deny a woman her pleasure. First one breast, then another, until she rolled on top of him, forcibly removing his mouth, gasping for breath.
“My turn,” she said, taking both his hands, and pulling them over his head.
He raised his brows. “Kinky.”
“You haven’t seen kinky,” she promised, but he felt the tug at his watchband, and he knew where this particular game was headed.
Cam pulled his hands free and grabbed her up, heading for the bedroom.
“Not quite yet.”
April 1, 3:10 a.m.
OUTSIDE, the moon was high in the sky, it was well into April first, and so far there were no disasters. Not unless you counted the collapse of her nervous system. Jenna was now comfortably tucked into the perfectly healthy shoulder of Cam and she wanted to keep it that way. For another nine hours.
All she needed was a few moments alone. “Do you have some ice?”“Ice?”
“Yes. Ice. It’s very hot in here. I’m thinking ice water would be nice.”
�
��And you want me to get it for you?” he asked.
“That’s the way things work in polite America.”
“Why should I trust you?’
“With ice?”
He sighed and lifted his arm, and she kept the triumph from her smile.
“Okay, be right back.” She watched his easy movements with greedy eyes as he slid out of bed. Quite simply, he was magnificent. Long, tight muscles that rippled when he moved. He had a workman’s tan on his arms and around his neck.
She pretended (it wasn’t hard) to ogle him and luxuriate in the sated afterglow of sex (again, not hard) until he left the room. Then she climbed out of bed, unplugging the clock next to the bed, angling it to face the wall.
One down. Now to get the watch.
He seemed excessively attached to that watch, or more likely, he didn’t trust her. Cam was very perceptive that way. But he had underestimated the power of her determination to keep him alive…and sexually active.
She remembered the gleaming gold metal on the band and smiled, sauntering into the bathroom and turning on the shower. “Cam?”
He appeared in the doorway, naked, carrying a glass of frosty ice water. “You want a shower?”
“I think so,” she said and walked into the glass enclosure, letting the warm water blast over her.
“I thought you were hot.”
She reached for the soap and shrugged, watching his eyes skim down her body. “I feel…dirty.”
He swallowed, his face perhaps a little pale. She grabbed the soap and had a fine time getting clean, paying particular attention to her chest.
Diligently she washed, creating great mounds of frothy white bubbles that dripped from her breasts. Her hands stroked and rubbed and tweaked, doing a fine job of ignoring his labored breathing. Then she found the particularly dirty place between her legs and she proceeded to rub.
These were not normal Jenna Ferrar moves. She had an image, a reputation to uphold, but here, with Cam, that all faded away like yesterday’s memories. Tonight, she’d let down her hair, and discovered a part of her personality she didn’t realize she had.