The Lady Vanishes

by Nicole Camden

  Enough was enough. He laughed and tugged her up and over so that they were face-to-face, her legs straddling his hips.

  “I’ll put my hands behind my back,” he said thickly, enjoying the feel of her. “Why don’t you just kiss me for a while?”

  She seemed startled by the idea, blinking at him, but then she smiled, and it was not a smile he’d ever seen on her face. It had a childlike quality to it, a disbelief, as if what was happening was new and bright and wonderful.

  “Yeah?” she asked, and he nodded.

  “Cool,” she replied, and gripped his hair in her hands. She pressed her lips to his with an eagerness that made his hands clench into fists against the leather seat at his back. Her mouth tasted like almonds and honey. Her tongue, shy at first, gently traced his lower lip, tasting him. He groaned, enjoying the sensation. No one had ever kissed him with such care, as if she were exploring his tastes and textures.

  Pressing deeper, she ran her tongue over his. He stopped himself from taking her mouth by sheer force of will, curious about what she would do next. How would she take his tongue? Would she twine hers around his luxuriously, lustily, pressing the muscular flesh together in one thick plunge, or would she glide delicately inside, exploring as she was now?

  She made a small noise in her throat and scooted closer, pulling his head tighter toward hers. “Kiss me back,” she growled, and sealed her lips to his, twining her tongue around his with an urgency that matched the rocking motion of her hips against his.

  His hands shifted to her hips to hold her tighter against him as his mouth took hers in return, plunging between her lips, tasting her as she’d tasted him. She was so soft, and smelled of hand sanitizer, peppermints, and arousal, the contrast making him feel light-headed.

  They twined together, tightening around each other in the seat like two ball pythons, trying to squeeze the life out of each other in an attempt to get closer, feed the need that burned in both of them. Shit, he wanted to fuck her.

  He released her lips to yank the cap off her head and sink his fingers into her hair, rapidly removing the pins with fingers that moved too quickly for most people to see. He threw them carelessly across the limo and buried his fingers in the thick tresses, gripping and releasing until her hair fell in soft dark waves down her back. At the roots near the back of her head, where her bun had been drawn tight, her hair was still damp and smelled faintly of lavender shampoo.

  He breathed her in, letting the sound and scent of her imprint itself on his flesh, and ran his lips over her soft cheek to her ear. He didn’t know any seductive words, didn’t know what to say except what he felt, which was a simple but heartfelt, “I want to fuck you.”

  BY THE TIME THEY PULLED UP to his brownstone thirty minutes later, he’d stripped off his coat and scarf and hers, tossing them carelessly on the floor of the limo. He’d removed her bra, though her shirt was still on—mostly. He’d pushed it up over her breasts, and was busy sucking on the tight pearly nipples, making her moan and twist on his lap, the scent of their mutual arousal filling the overheated air in the back of the limo.

  Shane didn’t roll down the partition, but he did tap discreetly on the glass, making Milton suddenly aware of his surroundings.

  He pulled away from her breasts, staring at the wet tips with longing, his hands still weighing and caressing the soft white globes. “We’re here,” he said thickly, marveling at the perfect white breasts before him. Seriously, it still felt like a damn miracle when women let him see their breasts. Nothing made him hornier than a fine pair of tits in his face. He wanted to carry her in the house like that, with her breasts warming his cheeks, the smell and softness of her surrounding him.

  She didn’t seem to understand at first, but then she flushed and jerked her shirt down over her hardened nipples.

  “Where’s my bra?”

  “Over there,” he murmured with regret. “Don’t put it on, though. Just put your coat on.”

  She did as he said, scrambling off his lap and grabbing her coat, pulling it on and zipping it while he picked up his own coat. She shoved her bra in her pocket, but she put the knitted cap back on her head. Milton didn’t see how she could stand the idea; he was so overheated he felt like the cold air would do him good.

  He grabbed her backpack. “Ready?”

  She nodded, her face flushed, eager, and he opened the door and climbed out. Scrambling after him, he took her hand to make sure she didn’t slip on the snow-covered sidewalk.

  Once he’d made sure that Regina was safely on the sidewalk, Milton leaned back inside the limo. “Thanks, Shane, I don’t think I’ll need anything more tonight.”

  Shane nodded. “Pick you up in the morning?”

  Milton almost shook his head no, wanting to keep Regina all day in bed with him, but he remembered that she probably had to work, and said, “Yes, that’s fine.”

  “All right, boss, see you then.”

  Milton shut the door and heard the limo pull away, leaving him standing on the sidewalk in the cold with the hottest doctor he’d ever met. Of course, at the moment the hottest doctor looked a little chilly—the tip of her nose was turning red and she’d shoved her hands deep in her pockets.

  He took her elbow and hurried her to the front door of his brownstone. He hoped that Mrs. Beechum had arranged everything and gone on her merry way.

  The doors opened automatically as he drew near, and he ushered her inside.

  “Cool. What if someone had a gun to your head?” She removed her hat and ran her fingers through her hair.

  “I programmed it to recognize a particular facial expression that means under duress.”

  She smiled at him—she stood in his hallway and smiled at him. “Of course you did.”

  He grinned at her and tossed his own jacket over the staircase railing. “Come on, there’s food in the library.”

  She let him lead her down the hall to the right of the stairs and to his library, where Mrs. Beechum had indeed set out the dinner he’d had sent over from Houston’s. She’d also set out the silver candlesticks that had come with the house, and had built a roaring file in the fireplace. The room smelled of freshly cooked steak, potatoes, mixed winter vegetables, and freshly opened wine from the cellar.

  “Wow,” she murmured, “this is nice.”

  Milton looked around at the big leather couch, the thick rug in front of the fireplace, and the food set out on his best china. He was glad it was nice, but all he could think about was getting Regina naked and sinking himself inside her.

  “Are you hungry?” His voice came out a little too gravelly and he cleared his throat. “I thought you might be.”

  She looked at him, and slowly removed her jacket, drawing down the zipper with the utmost care. She could have stolen his wallet, his pants, and the shirt off his back in the time it took for that zipper to descend to the bottom of her jacket.

  She shrugged out of it, and was standing in front of him with her nipples pressing against her shirt. The light from the fire flickered over her delicate nose, the perfect sculpture of her lips, and cast deep shadows in the hollow of her throat.

  “Or we could eat later,” he suggested, and hoped his tone didn’t sound as desperate as he thought it did.

  She threw her jacket on the couch behind her and the slick fabric slid to the floor. When she reached for the bottom of her shirt, he held his breath, hoping that she’d just stand still and let him look at those beautiful breasts in the firelight. She did, drawing off her shirt slowly and tossing it on the ground near his feet like a challenge.

  Her beautiful white breasts weren’t big, but they were full, with taut pink tips.

  “Touch yourself,” he begged, wanting to see those competent hands cup and rub those nipples. How did she like to be touched?

  Ducking her head a little, her lips parted, she did as he asked, cupping the soft ro
und mounds in her hands and squeezing, letting her nipples pop from between her fingers. She pinched them—harder than he would have, hard enough to make them tight little buds that begged for his mouth. Crossing her arms, she cupped her breasts on one forearm, then let the other hand glide down her stomach to the top of her jeans. She unbuttoned them, and Milton lost what little self-control he possessed.

  “God,” he gasped, and moved forward, grasping her arm and pulling her in the direction of the fireplace. Once they were on the rug, he went to his knees. She made as if to follow him, like her legs actually wouldn’t hold her up, but he held her still. With infinite precision, he reached up and caressed the tips of her nipples with his thumbs, letting the rough, callused tips abrade the already hard surface to a deep red.

  She moaned, arching toward him, but he didn’t stop. He shifted his fingers and pinched her nipples, as hard as she had done, and then rolled them between his fingers. Her knees sagged. “God,” she moaned. “Please.”

  He wasn’t sure what she was begging for. For him to suck on them? He’d be happy to, but he wanted her shoes and jeans off first. If he brought her down to his level, he was going to fuck her, and this time, this first time, he wanted her naked and spread out beneath him.

  Sliding his hands down her taut belly, enjoying the flutters of her stomach muscles as she breathed quickly, he slid down the zipper of her jeans, and shoved his hands inside, working his fingers between the fabric of her jeans and the satiny surface of her panties. He cupped her ass for one delicious moment, and then began tugging her jeans down her legs. He didn’t stop until her jeans were just above her knees. She tried to spread her legs, but she was trapped, her smooth thighs trembling as he ran his hands along the outside of them, curving them over the backs of her thighs, just barely letting his fingers brush the silky skin between her thighs.

  He could smell her arousal and knew that between her legs she would be slick and hot and wet.

  He breathed in, fascinated by the feel of her beneath his hands, wanting this moment to last forever. He bent lower and slid one hand between her legs, tucking a finger beneath her panties and knuckling her clit before she could expect it, making her gasp sharply and jerk her hips. Holding her with his free hand, he allowed his fingers to slip and slide over the soft folds, abrading her gently, pleasing her, pleasing himself, before he dipped two fingers inside her swollen, slick entrance and gently, inexorably, spread them apart, stretching and opening her.

  “Milton.” She gripped his hair fiercely. “Let me down. Fuck me.”

  He shifted his grip on her and rolled, tucking her under him at the same time, and deposited her on her back.

  Sitting up, he quickly yanked her boots off her feet and pushed her legs forward so that he could strip her jeans off. Her panties followed, and in less time than it would take him to steal someone’s wallet, he had her naked before him. She was not tall, but her legs were well shaped and lightly muscled from bike riding. The thatch of dark hair between her legs was lush and slightly curly, the way he’d imagined, and he wanted to bury his face in it, let the crisp curls and the salty rich smell of her cover his cheeks and lips.

  She wouldn’t stay still, though, she kept reaching for his shirt, attempting to tug it over his head, until he lost patience and stripped it off himself. His jeans he just unbuttoned and shoved partway down his legs. He never wore underwear, so the hard length of him sprang out joyfully, the bulbous tip already wet with fluid that had escaped his control.

  “Oh, hell yeah,” she murmured, and reached for him, her dark eyes almost black in the firelight as she gripped him in her fist and sat up, putting her lips to the head and tasting him.

  Milton damn near lost it then. Could she be any more perfect? She was forcing him between her lips, pressing him between those plump, perfect petals, and he thought that someone could stab him and he wouldn’t give a shit at the moment, as long as she kept doing that.

  She moaned like she was enjoying the taste of him and took him deeper, swirling her tongue around him while her hand tightened on the base of his shaft.

  “Oh fuck,” he groaned, and pushed at her shoulders. “I have to fuck you. Lie back.”

  She did, laying back on the rug and spreading her legs like a wanton. “Don’t forget the condom,” she whispered, and he blinked. Condom, right. He had one in his pocket. He produced it with a deft move of his fingers, and rolled it onto himself.

  He could see the pink of her, open and ready for him, and he mounted her without another thought, using his hand to fit himself inside her, and shoving forward in increments, working his thick length inside her while she gasped and writhed.

  “Oh fuck. God, yes.” She was laughing. “It feels so good.”

  He knew. He knew. He’d never felt such perfect heat, such delicious tightening around his cock as he moved, slowly at first, just rocking inside her, letting her adjust to his length and girth, working himself inside her. But she kept moaning and twisting. Her legs came around his hips and tightened, trying to draw him closer, so he grabbed her knees and pushed them toward her chest, opening her completely, making her vulnerable to him, and then he fucked her hard, drawing most of the way out and then sliding back inside firmly. In and out, slide and grind. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He couldn’t come yet. Hold on, wait till she’s there. Her skin was flushed, her nipples distended, and he knew it wouldn’t be long. She was close, so close, and then her stomach muscles tightened, and inside, around his cock, he felt a sharp jerk and her muscles began milking him, gripping his cock lovingly.

  With a low growl, he lost himself in fucking her, shoving himself in and out, his hips pounding, his cock throbbing as he shoved it inside her again and again until he came in a burst of come that left him feeling shredded and shaken, falling forward to lay his sweaty head next to hers on the rug, his breath coming in rapid gasps.

  She wrapped her arms around his back, but then seemed to lose all her energy and let them slide down to fall at her sides.

  “Now I’m hungry,” she murmured.

  Milton smiled.

  REGINA PUSHED MILTON OFF HER so she could breathe. He went a step further and removed himself from her body, making her gasp as he dragged himself over her soft, swollen tissues.

  He made a noise, a cross between a laugh and a gasp, and removed the evidence of their little adventure. He stood, walking away from her to his desk, and threw the condom away. He also seemed to clean himself off with something—perhaps his shirt—and toss it aside.

  Regina admired his taut buttocks and toned legs as he walked away from her, thinking idly that a man with an ass that fine should never wear clothing. He turned back to her and caught her looking at him. He didn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, he absently stroked himself as he looked at her, his eyes lingering on her breasts.

  Regina watched him for a moment, enjoying the honest lust in his gaze, as he stroked himself. “I think you better feed me before we try that again.” She smiled and sat up.

  He glanced behind him, at the dinner that still sat on his desk. The candles had burned down much of the way, but the food still smelled delicious.

  “Where would you like to eat?” He gestured at his chair, or on the floor.

  Regina smiled. “I think I’d like to stay down here, actually.”

  “Can we stay naked?” he asked, and Regina smiled at him.

  “Oh, yeah,” Regina agreed. She wasn’t quite done with that cock just yet. She’d never dreamed she could be fucked like that, that she would enjoy it so much. The few times she’d had sex had been hurried couplings with other residents, and a couple times in college, but she’d never been left boneless and sighing, her mind completely overwhelmed by the sheer flood of lust that had run over her.

  He grinned. “Awesome. Let me get the plates. You stay there.”

  Regina shifted so she was sitting cross-legged, enjoying the decadent feel
of the fire on her naked limbs, the weight in her bare breasts as she settled herself and waited for him to return with food for her.

  “You lift weights?” she asked, though he didn’t really have the body of a bodybuilder.

  He glanced at her, pausing in the act of scooping what looked like vegetables onto her plate. “Yeah, but mostly I run, practice yoga, karate, swimming, biking. Anything, really, to stay in shape.”

  “To practice your magic?”

  He’d just taken a bite of a roll, but he kind of chuckled around it. “Sort of.” He handed her a plate heaped with food—all of it smelled delicious, better than anything Regina had eaten in a while. Even the restaurant at the Commonwealth hadn’t served anything that looked quite this good.

  He went back and grabbed her a napkin and some silverware before making himself a plate. “Only the illusions and the escapes require much in the way of flexibility or extreme strength. I’m no Houdini. Mostly I just like to have fun with it, hence the hospital. No one has more fun than kids.”

  Regina took a bite of her own roll and watched him, not disbelieving exactly, but not sure that he realized how intense he was about his magic, how focused he became when he was performing. He worked out every day—he had to for a body like that, though he said it was just for fun. But Regina appreciated the results regardless.

  He sat down cross-legged next to her, and cut a piece of steak. “I haven’t been this hungry since I went on a fifty-mile bike ride last summer.”

  Regina agreed, chewing her own steak with eye-rolling delight. Damn. “You go on many rides?” she asked when she finished chewing.

  “Sometimes,” he agreed. “I know you do”—he pointed his fork at her—“even when it’s stupid.”

  “Paying for parking in my neighborhood is stupid,” she muttered. “You don’t have to worry about that, do you?”

  He shrugged. “Not so much.”

  Regina narrowed her eyes a little. She’d had to worry about everything since her father disappeared. “Besides, I like to ride. So don’t judge.”