Switch Me On

by Jule McBride

  Her deep sexy voice shook. “It was a one-night thing, okay?”

  “We can do anything we want, Ari. Anything you want.”

  “I can’t get involved right now.”

  “You’re involved whether you want to be or not. I bet you’ve tried to get away from every man who ever wanted you, but it’s not going to work this time.”

  “Oh, don’t you start trying to shrink me like the freaking Shoemakers,” she muttered. “Robby told practically everybody in town I have differentiation problems due to being a twin. He said I fear losing my identity and crave independence to an unnatural degree, if you must know, which is why he says I’m so career focused.”

  “What is your career?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it!”

  Suddenly, he softly chuckled. He was really starting to get a grip on this woman. “If you had your way, I wouldn’t even know your name. But I do. And I don’t care about some stupid shrink’s analysis. I want to know what you’re feeling.”

  “I told you! I’m feeling you should go!”

  There was a time he would have told himself there were other fish in the sea, but there weren’t. There was only one Ari Madden. Only this moment which would never happen again, and Bruno Brandt no longer put faith in tomorrows. He was living for the moment. For a year he had been seeking pleasure. But it was more than that. He had been on a journey of self-discovery because he’d realized life was short and he didn’t want to waste anymore time. Every single time he thought he wanted something, he was going after it, and right now, that meant Ari Madden.

  He stared at her a long moment, then said, “You’re such a liar.”

  “What am I lying about?”

  “How good it felt to be with me. You claim you want to be free. But you can’t be free until you know you can lose yourself, really lose yourself, and then find yourself again.”

  “And you’re going to show me that?”

  “If you’ll get lost with me.”

  “You’d better go.”

  “Not until I get what I came for.”

  She wanted to pretend he was talking about the coat, but he wasn’t, and she knew he wasn’t. He was going to wipe the hesitation from her eyes, too. As wild as the wind, his lips were going to sweep across hers and rearrange everything inside, making her emotions blow like tumbleweeds, like the chairs across the lawn. His tongue was going to swirl between her lips until he made her shake like leaves in a stormy gale. With a soft sound, he hauled her against him, loving how she molded to him, fitting like a puzzle piece, feeling every bit as good he remembered.

  “What do you want?” she plunged on. “My apology? Well, okay! I’m sorry! This is a small town, believe me, I know. The people are like extended family, and a lot of people would defend me or Lizzie to the death. This morning, things could have gotten out of control, and as it is, I do realize you got a black eye and Tased, too. I’m sorry! I really am!”

  “No, you’re panicked,” he returned, his body so close she couldn’t ignore the thick heat of his growing arousal. “And your apology didn’t sound very sincere, by the way, but that’s okay, because I don’t want your apologies.”

  “Then what?”

  “This,” he said, his hungry mouth descending.

  Chapter Five

  Oh, all his accusations were true, Ari admitted, shuddering as the first brush of his lips deepened into a kiss. As his tongue pushed greedily inside her mouth, parting her lips, a needy male groan shivered all the way through her. There had been warning signs, just like with the storm, but with him kissing her so hard, pressing against her, she could heed none of them, just brace herself for the onslaught of warm hands curling around her shoulders. Why did he have to be so smart? she wondered, as he roughly pushed away her jumper straps. So perceptive? He took in her fears and flaws at a glance and wasn’t put off by them.

  As her arm slipped from a shoulder strap, the backs of her knees went weak. They’d just started kissing, and he was stripping off her clothes, already. Lizzie was right about one thing. The man was a pit bull. He did not give up And he’d seen right through her, so he knew that she, not he, was the liar. She wanted him, she really did. She was wet for him and shaking. Maybe she wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anything, and yes, that was scary.

  Her disheveled state was proof her ardent responses weren’t a fluke, too. Her blouse was untied, the collar loose. He curled his fingers over the neckline, yanking down a fistful of fabric, baring her skin until she was naked to the waist. His erection had felt so good, so hard and thick and ready, pushing and pulsing against her belly, that she panted in protest when he backed away, but it was only a fraction, only long enough that his scalding, wet mouth could lock around a nipple and suck, the sensation blistering hot.

  Diving her hands into his hair, she twisted her fingers in the short strands, pulling a groan from him as she arched her hips. Adrenaline coursed through her blood, mixing with lust, making her jittery, edgy, as she guided his mouth closer, silently begging for him to lick and plunder. She made a sound of protest when he backed away and did the lean-dip thing that she found so intriguing. Grasping her hands, he settled them at her sides and stared at her chest, his gray eyes smoky, the gaze making her conscious of how she must look, her skin flushed, the aroused tips of her breasts dark and wet from his mouth.

  His eyes searched her face then, his long fingers trailing her breasts, the nails scraping, raking, stroking until she was uttering soft pleas. She reached for him, but he only pushed away her hands, still watching her face, enjoying her response as he plucked the nipples.

  “Oh,” she whispered simply. She’d never understood the allure of nipple clips, but maybe this was how they felt, like an exquisite weight pulling down. His fingers tugged hard, pulled down, pulled out, pulled up, until she was shaking all over. And all the while, he watched her face. “Ouch,” she finally whispered.

  He almost smiled, his lips twitching at the corners, his eyes twinkling. He looked thoroughly amused. “This doesn’t hurt, Ari. Say it.”

  “It doesn’t hurt,” she admitted on a soft pant. He was right about that, too. Had he said he had two PhDs? Maybe he really did, because he was obviously a smart man. This pleasure was greater than the pain, far greater, but everything felt too intimate, her arms dangling limply at her sides.

  “You’re going to say how much you want me,” he announced in a statement of fact, then he leaned closer, sighing, his hot, wet tongue licking a taut peak, flicking and circling, while a hand palmed her other breast, testing the weight, stroking curved contours, and finally closing over it, squeezing hard until she cried out.

  “You want me to stop?”

  “No,” she whispered.

  His teeth grazed the nipple, bit, toyed. “Now?”

  “No!”

  “I can’t hear you,” he nearly sing-songed, nipping the swells of her breasts in delicious, erotic bites that made her toes curl. When her hands nestled in his hair, he didn’t push them away again. Reaching under her dress, he lifted the fabric, then sank against her, his denim-sheathed pelvis seeking. As he thrust between her legs, she gasped, unable to believe how he felt, probing against her tights and panties until she was flooded with wet, musky heat and the scent exploded between them.

  Ripping the bows from her braids, he freed the hair and it teased her skin as he tongued her breasts once more, his sharp teeth raking, creating a sensation that was amazing, excruciating, exquisite. Fast, hot little licks followed, and her nails dug into his scalp, soliciting a soft curse from him. He suckled harder until she ached, her breasts heavy and full, the friction between her legs merciless. He tugged a nipple, and she cried out, lifting her hips, silently begging to ride, her yearning almost like a madness. Her hands suddenly stilled by the purplish spot near his eye.

  �
�Sorry,” she murmured.

  “I told you I don’t want an apology. I want this.” Catching her fingers, he pushed them downward, guiding them over the fly of his jeans, showing her how he wanted her to stroke him, urging her to explore the evidence of his need, his breath catching in a soft pant. His fingers gripped tighter, curling hers around him. “Touch me hard,” he whispered in a silken command.

  Outside, lightning flashed, and her heart slammed against her ribs when he groaned; she massaged him and he cursed as she traced his shape. She wanted to arouse him more than he could bear. Maybe she already had. He reached a long arm down and grasped the hem of her jumper again. Going up under it, he hooked a hand over the waistband of her tights, then stripped them down, taking her panties, too, pulling everything down her legs.

  When he righted himself, a hand was on his belt, just above the hard, straining ridge of arousal under the denim. She eyed where the fabric stretched tightly across his hips, making every contour visible, her breath jagged as the buckle opened. A loud rumble of thunder made the sky tremble as his jeans, then briefs hit the floor. He was agile and strong, like a jungle cat, completely at ease with his body.

  “Look at me when you touch me.”

  Mesmerized, she eyed him once more, her thumb tracing the head of his cock, making it slick with a drop of moisture at the tip, then she was holding the whole, thick, burning length as he thrust into her hand, his mouth crushing down on hers. He was groaning, panting against her mouth as she fondled him, then he nearly ceased kissing, his lips barely touching hers. Lightly, he swept her lips with his, grazing without pressure, just sharing hot, shaky breath as his tongue flicked out, no longer plundering, just licking her lips in a kiss that was all craving.

  “You’re not going to get away with it,” he whispered.

  He meant with pretending this wasn’t special, and her throat got tight, invisible bands tightening around her chest. She couldn’t breathe. Her head was swimming, her heart hammering as his mouth covered hers once more, his erection hotter and harder and heavier. For the first time in her life, she felt she’d met her match. A man who wouldn’t let her hide. A man who really wanted to know who she was, deep down.

  “Tell me what a little liar you are.”

  “I was lying,” she admitted, her heart stuttering when the thick, engorged length flexed. “I want this,” she managed to say. “A lot.”

  “You want me?”

  “Yes.”

  A strangled sound came from the back of his throat and a hand splayed on the top of her head. She sank down, her mouth circling where her hands had been, his taste delicious and salty, and she was loving what she was doing to him, the labored sound of his breath. “Such a little liar,” she whispered, blowing where she’d made him so wet and hot with her mouth, taking him deeper, stroking the taut muscles of his thighs, feeling them ripple as his hips moved.

  He reached between them. A hand flattened on his lower belly to press the base of his cock. He was trying to keep from coming. His other hand fisted in her hair and he yanked her up by it, his mouth capturing hers, sharing the taste of his own body before he scooped his jeans from the floor, searched the pockets for a condom and sheathed himself.

  Then she was in his arms. Gasping when he found her wet, he pushed to the opening. Big and hot, stretching her, all wet and slippery as he pushed inside. But just inside. Only teasing. Damn him! She arched, bracing for the hard thrust she so desperately craved, but it never came, and she gasped a protest, but he only pushed in again, pulled out, rubbed her clit until it was hot and slick and a thousand of her nerve endings were exploding. Her head was spinning, all the sensations burning. With a hand under her chin, he suddenly lifted her mouth and kissed her, drowning her senseless whimpers.

  “On the couch,” he muttered. She obeyed, needing him inside her, her blouse and jumper half undone, the space between her legs heavy in a way she’d never felt before. Lying back against soft silk pillows, she watched him approach, his naked body magnificent as he leaned, his shoulders powerful looking, the thighs rippling, his sex nestled in wild dark curls. She was about to open for him when he grasped the toes of both her feet in one hand and lifted her legs, exposing her backside, his hot eyes studying every inch before he rubbed the pink skin. He had such marvelous hands, he really did. Kneeling by the couch, he pushed a thick finger inside, then another, until she was breathing hard again, wanting to move for the pleasure, unable because he held her still, trapping her legs.

  “Look at me.”

  As she did, he leaned and licked the exposed slit, making her squirm and twist, her heart stuttering. She couldn’t take much more, but when it came to keeping her on the edge, he had a sixth sense. He squeezed the toes of her feet where they curled over his fingers, his tongue thrusting harder, swirling between her legs, flickering, pushing. She was climbing fast, everything brighter. Strangled sighs ripped from some unknown place inside her, and then she kept gasping, the wet pressure and pad of his tongue assaulting her even after she was coming, then he was saying, “It’s deeper this way.”

  She was coming, but he hadn’t stopped, hadn’t let her rest. He was filling her with his cock now. Slowly, torturously filling her, his fingers clutching her toes, anchoring her. She was totally open, impossibly exposed. Forever seemed to pass before he pulled out, her belly muscles clenching in anticipation, her hands clasping behind her neck as he filled her again.

  “You do like fucking me,” he whispered.

  “Yes,” she murmured. “Yes.”

  He crouched over her, his mouth locking to hers, then he was rocking her in his arms, cradling and kissing, until they were coming together. Something else she’d never experienced before. For a long time, they stayed like that, their eyes shut, their breath labored. “I think I have to lie down.”

  “You are lying down. But I know what you mean. I’ll come with you.”

  “You already came. But I know what you mean, too.”

  His soft chuckle seemed as delicious as being hugged in his arms. She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but the idea of being in bed with him made her quicken once more. She heard him say, we can do anything you want, Ari. And now, she wanted to do everything with him. To try things. Toys, maybe. Sexy clothes.

  Lightning and thunder had passed, but rain was drumming the roof while the wind howled, just the right weather for a lost day. She could catch up on work—she always did—but this time spent with him was only going to happen once in a lifetime.

  “C’mon,” he said.

  He took her hand, shutting the front door as they passed, then he followed her down the hallway. The pillow-strewn, four-poster bed and cheval mirror had never looked as romantic as now. She hadn’t made the bed, so the green sheets were mussed.

  “Silk,” he murmured.

  “I like silk.”

  “I would have guessed cotton.”

  “I’m full of surprises.”

  “I noticed that, too.”

  As he got into bed beside her, his hand slid between her legs, feeling at home there. Now he squeezed gently, as if knowing how sensitive she was. Too sensitive, she thought, until he massaged using only the pressure of his palm. “I don’t think I can do this again.”

  “You will.”

  She could barely believe how good-looking he was. In the dimness of the room, lit by the gray overcast sky beyond a window, the glint in his eyes was pure temptation. He caught the hem of her jumper, pushed it up on bare thighs, taking the blouse with it as he pulled the whole mess over her head, then he kissed all the way back down, his hand settling with steady pressure, warm and comforting until she was climbing again. Until, once more, she was letting herself go.

  Chapter Six

  Hearing a tapping sound, Ari, sat in bed, stretching, feeling very mushy inside, like a cushion that had been poked wit
h a thousand pins. She was exhausted, hungry...and had to work! It was nearly dark! Almost five! Where was he? She stared toward the soundproofed walk-in closet in the corner of the room. The door was open. Earlier, Bruno had glanced in, while looking for a bathroom, and she’d given him the dime tour, telling him about some of her voice-overs, like the National Federation of Teachers gig she hoped to get. Squinting, she felt her heart miss a beat. A tapping sound was coming from in there. The studio was her sacred space. Nobody went in there! Pushing back the covers, she took a brown silk robe from a bedside chair, slipped it on and tied it as she moved toward the closet.

  Coming to a standstill in the doorway, she stared at a sea of tiny metal parts strewn across her desk. Other nearly microscopic pieces were unscrewed and arranged in piles. He’d dismantled her computer! He was seated in the swivel chair at the desk, his shoulders hunched, a big hand she’d so admired holding a teensy piece of silver with tweezers. A toolbox was on the desk, some weird gizmo was on his head, and he looked completely at ease, wearing only the red long johns shirt and underwear, no pants. He didn’t seem the least bit good-looking right now, though, not with her computer all over the table.