Undercover Lover (Siren Publishing Classic)

by Jane Leopold Quinn

  She arched against him with a low moan when his lips closed around the aching tip. Looking down, even though dark inside her house, the sight was like a black and white movie. Her white skin, black bra, his pale cheeks, dark hair.

  “Oh, God.” Fire exploded in her belly. “Yes,” she urged him on, his teeth rocking the nipple through the tracery of the fabric, the edge of pain streaking along her nerves. She wriggled her hips against his, wanting his thick cock, wanting it thrust inside her where he belonged. “Did you mean it? That you want…me? And kids?”

  “Yeah,” his voice muffled by his mouth on her breast. “If you’ll have me. Please have me…and, if you don’t, I’ll badger you until you will have me.”

  * * * *

  Enough of this.

  Sam pulled her toward the spiral stairs, pushing her up ahead of him. “Oh, God, Liz,” he choked, both hands crawling under her skirt.

  Oh, yeah, thigh highs.

  She laughed aloud.

  He palmed her bottom. Flicked the thong. “Oh, baby, you’re killing me. Get up there, woman. I’m gonna make you sorry you wore those things around me.”

  “I’ll never be sorry. I’ll wear them all the time, and you’ll be sorry.”

  “Oh, man, yeah. Let’s get these clothes off.” He held her at arm’s length. “Do you have any idea what you look like? Thong panties, thigh-highs, and stilettos. Jesus Christ!”

  She fucking teased him with her wicked smile. “Say it again.”

  His hands encompassed her waist, and he repeated, “Do you have any idea…”

  “No. What you said in the bar.” She drew closer and shimmied her belly against his cock.

  “Come home?”

  “Well, if you don’t remember.” She turned, showing him her back.

  Taunting him with her bare bottom and thong panties, she drove him nuts. “I’ll show you it’s not a good thing to tease me too much.” He crowded behind her, inching her toward the bed until she landed flat on her stomach. Still sassy, she cocked a shoulder and watched him as he quickly shrugged out of his clothes. He was going to make her pay. She just didn’t know when to stop playing with him. Thank God. His eyes glazed as he curled his hand around his pulsing dick, dry rubbing it from the base to the tip.

  She started to roll over.

  “No,” he growled, holding her with a palm on the small of her back. He cupped her bottom cheeks with both hands then loomed over her, sliding his erection along the length of her crack.

  He nibbled open-mouthed, kissing and licking across her shoulders, the nape of her neck, down her spine, which brought him up again kneeling between her thighs. He continued sweeping his lips over her bottom and nipping her with teasing bites. Following with big wet swipes of his tongue, he traced the elastic of the little non-panties with his tongue, skirting the crease.

  The little witch didn’t know when to stop. She shimmied her hips, pumping them against his face.

  “I’m dying here,” she sobbed.

  His fingers massaged her again, lightly smoothing over her cheeks, turning into sensuous compressions, manipulating the folds and creases. With a long, deep groan, he hooked his fingers under the elastic and pulled the thong off, watching it slide from between her cheeks. He heard her muffled cries, her face buried in the pillow.

  The panties could come off—yes. Thigh highs—no. He smoothed his palms along their length from the toes of her pumps up to the tops of the stockings. Over and over, up and down the same territory. His arm snaked around her waist and pulled her up. Kneeling between her thighs, he took in the sight of her. Exposed, open. He slid his hand around to the front of her body to ruffle her pussy hair, fingering it, rhythmically pressing her mound and gently yanking the short strands. Staying only long enough to drive her wild with not knowing what he’d do next.

  He played with the lips sheltering her sex, parted them, and smoothed her generous juices around the outside of her vagina with his fingertip, stroking inside for the first sensitive inch.

  “Sam,” she moaned, thrusting her bottom at him, shifting her hips.

  But he wasn’t through tormenting her. “Liz,” he ground. “Oh, God, baby, I’m not going to make it.” Yes, he was through. He rolled her to her back and loomed over her. “I need to be inside you, baby.” His fingers pumped into her once.

  “Yes…” she moaned.

  Clothed only in thigh-highs and stilettos, she made an erotic dream come true. Pushing her thighs up and out, he brought his palms to her knees and trailed them down to her ankles. He slipped the high-heels off and placed her feet flat on the sheet, her knees as far apart as he could get them, then sat back on his heels to look his fill.

  She panted, groaned, and tried to reach for his penis.

  He grinned, swirled his fingertips in the moisture from her hole to her clit, scissored the sides. “What do you want, sweetheart?”

  “Sam.” She arched again. He dragged more moisture to keep her clit wet and slippery. She dug her heels in the bedding and arched higher. “I want you to fuck me,” she demanded, her mouth opening on a loud moan.

  He came over her, his tongue sliding over her lips. “I. Love.” He poised his cock at the entrance to her body. “You.” He stretched out the you as he stretched over her. “Will you marry me, honey?” He entered her slowly, just a little bit. “Please?”

  She gazed up at him. Her hips followed the movement of his cock. “I…love…you…too… Now fuck me.”

  He laughed. “Such language. I’m an innocent boy. How can I teach you good manners?”

  “Innocent, my butt,” she groaned.

  “Will you?”

  “Sam…” she whimpered, clearly wanting him to plunge inside her.

  “Not until you say you’ll marry me.” His arms started to shake with the effort of holding his cock just inside her when he wanted to thrust all the way in and fuck her senseless.

  “That’s…blackmail.”

  His voice deepened and simmered with conviction. “Whatever it takes, honey.”

  “Just do it already.”

  “Well?” He almost wept.

  “You mean it?”

  He nodded, his breath catching.

  Her hands slid around his waist, over his butt, and she pulled him into her. “Yess.”

  He cried out, shaking and whimpering. He closed his eyes in the total ecstasy of driving all the way home inside her.

  She shook her head from side to side. “Yes. More. Damn you, harder.”

  “You are one demanding female. I don’t know how I stand you.” He collapsed on top of her and continued his powerhouse thrusting. He wound higher and higher, felt the pressure in his cock, his balls contracting.

  Her climax came first, in one long shriek.

  He followed, pumping thick jets of cum into her, gasping her name.

  “Christ, you killed me.” He rolled them to their sides facing each other, still joined, still panting. After his heart rate came back to normal, and he could speak, he whispered, “Liz, deep down I wanted what I was afraid I could never have. I thought I didn’t deserve you.” He smoothed his lips over the scar on her shoulder. “I still don’t.”

  She opened her mouth.

  He cut her off with a long, lingering kiss. “You’ve shown me it’s okay to love you. Boy, is this hard. I’ve never talked so much about this in my life.” Before she could respond, he said, “I promise I’ll be the best husband and father I can be. I want this chance with you.” His voice broke.

  * * * *

  Liz shushed him. Shushed him by caressing his face with her lips, smoothing them over his eyelashes, the crests of his cheeks, the tender skin of his neck below the dark hairs of his beard. He’d never sounded this serious or emotional before. It moved her more than she thought possible. For a big, tough guy like him to break down and open up, to shed his fears, to expose himself, gave her the strength to respond in kind.

  She felt his softened penis slip out of her, the loss of him exciting her
sensitive tissues, the feeling as sensual as the first penetration of his thick cock. He pulled her closer and cradled her head on his shoulder, his arm protectively encircling her. Peace. He wasn’t going to run away. He would stay so she could give him a family of his own and a way to deal with the guilt he couldn’t completely let go.

  Her hand rested on his stomach, her fingers teased the dark hair trailing to his resting cock. His belly bounced, tense because of her exploring fingers. “A couple of ground rules, though.”

  “Mm?”

  She dragged her fingers through his pubic hair, snagging the strands, jerking them a little. “Yeah.”

  “What?” he asked, his voice trailing off.

  The bastard was going to sleep. She yanked harder.

  “Ow.” But he didn’t rouse himself to move a hand to stop her. “What?”

  “No more kidnappings and shootings? Okay?”

  “Okay, but can I still watch you masturbate?”

  “What?” She tried to shift to a sitting position, but he was quite awake now and quite lying over her.

  “I saw you. That first night.”

  “Huh? What do you mean you saw me?”

  His teeth gleamed whitely against his dark beard, the gold hoop winked at her.

  “Sam.” She tried to push at his chest, but he wasn’t budging.

  “You really should close your curtains if you don’t want to entertain the neighborhood.” Still grinning, he pumped his hips, his cock hardening against her hip.

  “Sam, what the hell are you talking about?” He couldn’t have. Oh, my God, he did. “You saw me through the window?”

  “Uh huh.” He kissed the side of her face, nudged her neck up with his nose to access her neck.

  “Is that why you followed me that night? Because you’d already seen me naked? Oh, my God, you pervert!”

  “Don’t be mad, honey. I was already hot for you even before that night.” His lips brushed over the mounds of her breasts and down the center.

  “But my little porno show didn’t hurt, did it?” Her embarrassment turned to amusement quickly enough. “You probably told yourself I knew you were watching?”

  “It occurred to me.”

  “Well, it never occurred to me that you, of all people, were peeping through my window.” She giggled, “You probably never imagined you were the man I fantasized about that night.”

  “Yeah?” His lips enclosed a nipple.

  “Mm.” His mouth, his wonderful, talented mouth drew on her nipple. He suckled deeply. “Oh, God, yes, like that. Bite me soo gently. Like that. Puleeze,” she begged.

  He spoke no more after that.

  That was acceptable to her. As long as he sucked and lapped and bit, he could be as quiet as he wanted. She writhed and pushed her breast in his face, gripped his hair, held him tightly. Again, he rose over her and gave her the pleasure of his thick cock sliding slowly into her hungry sheath. She cried out with the building pressure and stretch of her vagina around his steadily thrusting penis.

  She could feel herself contracting around him and called his name, screeched his name. And all of it came together in a fine explosion that rocked her hips up to meet his on the way down.

  He shouted at his own ejaculation. Grunted with each thrust. Didn’t pull out, just pumped until he was dry.

  “Baby?” he spoke drowsily as he again fell to her side. “Before I forget or pass out and die, my mom does want you to come to dinner Saturday.”

  She laughed gently at his non sequitur. “Yes, my love. I’d love to come for dinner.”

  “Would you do it again? Just for me?”

  “What?”

  “Masturbate,” he said darkly.

  “You mean after all this, you’d want to watch me play with my vibrator?” That idea actually turned her on.

  “Oh, yeah, baby,” he readily replied. “I have a feeling it’ll turn you on as much as it’ll turn me on. And I can help.”

  Their laughter continued as they turned toward one another, face to face, sex to sex, and dozed off dreaming of dinners and vibrators. And the future.

  THE END

  www.janeleopoldquinn.com

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Jane Leopold Quinn is a multi-published author of highly sensual novels, novellas, and short stories. She loves the creative process and is constantly, madly writing and revising the “next great book.” Nothing gives her more satisfaction than bringing two people together for a happily-ever-after ending. Writing romance is the greatest job in the world and is her passion and niche in life.

  Creativity in romance authors isn't usually limited to writing. Her other interests include building and decorating doll houses and miniature room boxes, as well as designing silk flower arrangements. Next up? Mosaics...

  Jane lives in Chicago, overlooking the park and Lake Michigan, with her loving, supportive husband.

  Siren Publishing, Inc.

  www.SirenPublishing.com