“I thought we already discussed the God thing,” she said and stepped closer to him.
He couldn’t help himself. He reached out, traced a finger along the string of satin low on her hip. Heat shot through his fingertip white and hot. “You look—” Amazing, astounding, heart-stopping gorgeous! But single syllable words were all his tongue could grasp so he settled on, “Wow.”
She laughed, a soft breathy sound that stroked him like a piece of silk. “I’m glad you approve.” She reached for him, one hand sliding down his arm to his hand. She laced her fingers in his and slowly led him into the next room.
It too was lit only by candlelight. Long red and white candles in crystal holders sat on every available flat surface in the large living room. On the floor in front of the fireplace, she had made a circle of large fluffy pillows around a makeshift table arrangement.
“A floor picnic?” Dean said as she pulled him to one of the pillows.
“More like a snack bar,” she said. “It isn’t cold enough for a fire, but I thought the fireplace made for a good backdrop so to speak. Have a seat, lover.”
Lover . The endearment stirred something in Dean’s brain. Talk. Yeah, he remembered something about that. But what did he want to talk about?
She pulled him down to the pillows and sat beside him. She picked up two glasses of chilled wine, held one out for him. “Should we toast?”
Dean looked down into the glass he had taken and looked back at her. The candlelight danced over her bare skin giving it a warm seductive glow. Man, but she was gorgeous!
“You seem to be a man of few words tonight. I’ll make the toast. How about to us? To finally indulging in those dreams we’ve both had for so many years.” She lightly clanked her glass to his and sipped the wine.
Indulging in dreams . The words repeated in Dean’s head as he took a much larger drink of the wine than he meant to. It was a smooth, white wine, a bit sweet but tantalizing to the taste buds. Just like her, he mused and stole another large sip. The alcohol seemed to break through the cloud of lust in his mind long enough for him to remember. “Talk,” he said and didn’t miss the almost imperceptible way her shoulders raised and fell in a silent sight. “We do need to talk, Veronica.”
“I have been talking, handsome. It’s you who seems to have lost his tongue to the cat.”
“And you knew I would,” he said, purposely raking his gaze over her. And, oh damn but he shouldn’t have done that. He had to keep his attention on her eyes, had to keep himself from looking at all of that lace, all of that exposed skin.
She sat her wine glass on the floor, snuggled closer to him. Lifting a hand, she danced her fingers on the side of his neck, and worked her way down just beneath the collar of his shirt. “Sometimes talking really is overrated.”
He breathed in deeply. A heartbeat passed as he reveled in the sweetly feminine smell of her. He felt the top button of his shirt give and gently caught her wrist. “And sometimes talking is a real necessity.”
“You should know that really turns me on,” she said, her gaze dropping to her wrist clasped in his hand. “I’ve never had a man take control of me that way, but I think I would enjoy it.”
Dean dropped his hand, closed his eyes. She certainly wasn’t going to make this easy for him. She obviously had no intentions of talking and did everything in her power to be sure he couldn’t even form a single coherent thought, much less speak it.
As soon as he let go of her wrist, her hand continued to the next button. She undid them until his shirt was open to the waistline of his trousers and then buried her hand inside, tangling her fingers in his chest hair. “You’re welcome to talk if you like,” she said and used both hands to push his shirt open and off his shoulders. She reached over, picked up a small bottle that sat beside a bowl of fresh strawberries. She squirted a small amount above his left nipple, and then his right, and he sucked in a breath. Whatever was in that bottle came out cold but almost instantly warmed on his skin and tingled slightly.
“What is that?” he asked as she replaced the bottle on the floor.
“Strawberry flavored massage oil,” she answered and began to slowly rub it into his skin. Then she leaned in and licked. The sensations of the oil, of the scent, of her tongue had his head falling back on his shoulders. “I’m listening,” she said against his skin and then her mouth moved over his nipple and she sucked, nibbled.
A lightning bolt of desire, fiercer than any he had ever experienced, shot straight to his dick. Jesus, the woman was amazing! She feasted on him, kissing, licking, sucking her way over his chest, his abs, his stomach, and he couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but feel. And want. Oh, how he wanted. He had wanted all of his life, wanted a mother and father who cared, wanted to be the best firefighter he could be, wanted to be a strong and decent man. And he had wanted her. Still, never before had that final want been so great as it was right now.
Dean had given up on his parents many years ago, resigned himself to the fact that he would never see that particular want, that dream fulfilled. Instead, he focused his energy on what he could make true. He became the best firefighter he could be, worked himself up the ladder from the very bottom to Captain in only a few years. He tamed his wild and crazy ways and liked to think he had become that strong and decent man he wanted to be.
Now he had the chance to make that final dream come true. He could have Veronica Abbott. But what if he had been wrong all these years? What if having her once really wouldn’t get her out of his system?
He felt the button of his trousers give, thought back to the last time she had gotten close to his dick. Who the hell was he kidding? Once would never be enough.
He saw himself stopping her, pushing her away, standing and putting his clothes to rights. He didn't do any of that. Instead of pushing her away, he grabbed her shoulders and pulled her hard and forcefully against him. Anger seared through him, at her for not listening, for driving him past the barriers of his control, at himself for not holding on to that control, for not being able to resist her. The anger brought out the darker side of him, the part of him that he had buried long ago. But even as he cursed it, that crazed blackness and red-hot anger, he embraced it, felt empowered by it.
Her eyes widened in an instant of shock, and he saw the uncertainty flash through her expression. Her lips parted as if to speak, and he crushed his mouth over hers. So many times he had dreamt of kissing her. In his dreams, he kissed her slowly, softly, tenderly, only taking what she wanted to give when she was ready to give it. Yet, there was nothing soft and slow about this kiss. It held no resemblance to those from his dreams. He plunged his tongue into her mouth not waiting for an invitation and ravaged her. He felt her slight pause of stunned hesitation before she began to respond. Her arms snaked around his neck even as he angled his head and took the kiss even deeper.
* * * *
Veronica felt his hand fist in the back of her hair, holding her head in place. She tried to pull away and found she couldn't move. Not that she wanted to. The small show of dominance made her wetter than she had ever been in her life. The rough, demanding, controlling way he kissed her had her whole body on fire. No one had ever kissed her this way, with so much passion and strength. His tongue possessed her mouth, made it his, and he tasted so wonderful, so male with the slight hint of the wine lingering to add a bit of sweetness.
I pushed him to this , she realized. I pushed him past his breaking point. But hadn’t that been her plan? Wasn’t that why she rushed home after closing the store to set the perfect atmosphere with the candles, the lotions and oils, the fruits, the red teddy she was wearing? She knew he came tonight wanting to talk and they would. But first she wanted to make sure they finished what they started in the locker room days ago and in her store earlier that afternoon. She was tired of interruptions, tired of waiting. She wanted him inside her. Then he could talk the remainder of the night away if he chose.
His callused hand moved down her bare back
as he broke the kiss. Then he looked at her, and the want, the need mixed with the fear and anger she could see in his eyes just before he began savagely kissing her neck, took her breath away. She rolled her head to the side, exposing more of her skin for his hungry kisses. The day’s worth of stubble on his face felt like sandpaper to her tender flesh, and she knew she would still wear his mark come morning, but she didn’t care.
He pushed her back, and she went willingly. Somehow he managed to keep her on the pillows she had laid on the floor. He went down with her, over her, still kissing, still ravaging her neck. He didn’t stop until she moved her arms, tried to feel more of him.
In one brisk move, he caught both her wrists and pinned them to the floor on either side of her head. He gazed down at her, and for the briefest of moments she saw the old Dean again, the one whose eyes shined with excitement, promises, and adventure. But in a flash, it was gone, yet it wasn’t replaced with the calm and sensible Dean he had become. The look in his eyes now was one she had never before seen, couldn’t quite identify, and when he spoke, his voice was as rough as his kisses had been. “You wanted this. I’m going to give it to you. But you’re going to get it my way. Now, don’t move.”
A ripple of alarm shot from the roots of her hair to the tips of her toes at his words, but it only added to the excitement, to the heat blazing inside her. She had never felt more aroused, more alive than she did at that moment. He was in control, and yet he wasn’t. He was in control of her, but he had lost all control of himself.
He released his hold on her wrists, skimmed his hands down her sides, and shifted himself back as he slid her panties off, tossed them aside. Her pussy was wet, so very wet and throbbing for his touch, for his dick. But he didn’t give her either. He returned to her, straddled her waist as he untied the bow between her breasts, and pushed the lace of the teddy aside. His hands were like large suction cups on her breasts, molding to them, working them in a pressured massage that had her gasping in pleasure. When he caught her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and rolled them, pinched them, she writhed beneath him at the same time arching her back and pushing her breasts higher, begging for more. Yes, this was what she had wanted. Well, almost. He wasn’t inside her yet, but she had no doubt that he would be soon.
Her eyes tried to close, to bury her mind in the darkness of the erotic pain and blissful pleasure he showed her. Instead, she forced them to stay open, to watch him, to savor him. He looked so exotically sexy straddling her the way he was, his shirt still unbuttoned to the waistband of his pants and hanging off his shoulders. The black trousers he wore strained against his massive erection, and she longed to reach out, to cup his dick the way he cupped her breasts.
His word echoed in her mind. You wanted this. I’m going to give it to you. But you’re going to get it my way. Now, don’t move. So she didn’t and was rewarded for her obedience when he pushed himself up, stood, and stripped off his clothes. His body was as glorious as she remembered from the locker room, but even more so tonight with the sheen of sweat layering his skin.
Forgetting herself, she reached for him as he lowered himself above her again, but he caught her hands, pinned them back to the floor with his. His legs pushed between hers, spreading her and then in one quick, breath-lodging stroke, he was inside her. She was tight and his dick was long, wide. It stretched her, filled her so completely that her mind short-circuited. Was that pleasure or pain shooting through her? She could no longer separate the two.
He stopped, buried balls deep inside her and stared down into her eyes. “Is this what you wanted, Veronica?”
“Yes,” she whispered on a ragged breath. “God, yes!”
“Or is this what you want?” He withdrew almost completely, pounded into her again hard and fast.
“Ohmigod!” she nearly screamed it. Her back arched on his inward thrust, and when he pulled back ever so slightly, her hips rose to meet his. His fingers laced with hers and squeezed tightly, pushing her hands into the floor as he pounded her. They slid into a rhythm that was hard and fast, rough and wild. He rocked her, reached places inside her she hadn’t known existed and with each push, each invasion, had her crying out from the sheer pleasure of it all. She felt herself climbing, the heat inside her intensifying to a blazing fire in search of water. Her stomach tightened, her inner muscles latching onto his dick, her legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him even deeper.
“Cum for me, Veronica.” He panted. “And I want to hear you. Let me know how good it feels.”
She did. Seconds later her entire body convulsed with the most fierce, most explosive orgasm of her life. She heard herself scream, gasp, cry out his name, and then somewhere in the darkness of her pleasure, she heard him grunt loudly with his release. His seed shot up inside her even as her inner muscles continued to contract around his dick. Then his fingers loosened on hers and he fell on top of her.
Breathless and still trembling from the force of her orgasm, Veronica slowly pulled her hands from beneath his, and finally, she touched him. Her arms snaked around him, hugged him tightly. She could feel his heart pumping in a frenzied pace in time with her own, hear his short ragged breaths in her ear.
She didn’t know how long they stayed that way—his dick still buried inside her, his body molded to hers, her holding him tightly—but finally he lifted his head, looked at her, and she could see in an instant that a part of the sensible Dean had returned.
He closed his eyes, gulped. When he opened them again, she saw the concern, the worry mixed with the anger in his eyes. “Did I hurt you? Please tell me I didn’t hurt you.”
But he had hurt her, hadn’t he? Hadn’t she felt the pain on her breasts, her nipples, deep within her when he thrust into her without warning or sensitivity? Yet, she enjoyed it all. She loved it! “You didn’t do anything to me that I didn’t like,” she said and trailed a hand lightly down his chest.
She watched as he took in her answer, registered the fact that she hadn’t exactly said no, nor had she said yes. A few heartbeats passed, and then he nodded, accepted her response. He shifted, pulled out of her, and she saw the instant realization took hold. His eyes widened, she could almost see his heart pounding out of his chest.
“I’m on the pill,” she said before he had a chance to speak. “And I’m clean. I’ve only had two lovers in my life. The first was my husband, and the second used protection.”
He chuckled, but the sound was completely dry, devoid of all humor. “I’ve been with a lot more than two women, Veronica. But you can trust that I’m clean, too. I’ve been tested regularly.”
She nodded and was only marginally surprised to realize she hadn’t been worried at all.
“I need to…uh…clean up,” he said and looked a bit embarrassed. “The bathroom…”
“Across the hall to the left.”
He picked up his clothes and walked out of the room. Veronica sat up, pulled the sides of her teddy back together, and retied the bow, then hugged her legs to her chest. She should clean up, too, she knew, but she wasn’t quite ready to erase the evidence of their lovemaking. Not that all evidence would go away so quickly or so easily. No, she would be feeling the remnants of tonight for a long time.
What happened now? Where did they go from here? Where did she want them to go? She sighed, realizing she didn’t have a clue. She hadn’t thought outside of the box on that one, hadn’t considered anything past getting him inside her. She didn’t want a relationship, didn’t want a commitment. She knew that much. However, she did want more of that mind-blowing sex he had given her tonight.
She didn’t hear him when he returned, didn’t know he was there until he spoke, and what he said made what felt like a band tighten around her stomach.
“I have to go.” He walked to her, kneeled beside her. He was completely dressed and looked much as he had when he arrived, save for the matted strands of his hair from the sweat and water he most likely splashed on his face while in the bathroom.
/> He was leaving. The imaginary band in her stomach squeezed tighter. They just had sex, and now he was leaving. She expected him to stay, expected a repeat of the event at some point in the night, expected to awake in his arms tomorrow morning. He obviously had a different ending planned for the night.
“Don’t you want to talk?” she asked, her thoughts swimming through disappointment and confusion.
“I can’t talk now.” He brushed the back of his fingers down her cheek, kissed her lips softly. “I’ll call you later.” Before she could chase down her thoughts enough to say anything more, he walked out of the room. She heard the front door open, only to close again a half a second later. Then in the distance, she heard the motor of his motorcycle as it came to life and he sped out of the drive.
* * * *
He had left. He had to. He needed time to align his thoughts, his feelings. He needed time to put the night in a different perspective. Not that the time did him much good, Dean mused as he slid into the chair behind his desk. He spent the remainder of last night and all of this morning replaying his time with Veronica over and over only to come to the conclusion that he longed to do it, to do her, all over again.
Dammit !
Once hadn’t been enough. He knew it wouldn’t be, was stupid to think it could be. No way could he live the rest of his life without feeling that silky smooth skin again, without tasting those luscious lips, without sinking his cock deep inside her tight, wet pussy. He lost himself last night, lost everything he came to be. And had gotten the one thing he had always wanted.
Double dammit !
“You look like a man who had a rough Saturday night, Captain,” Barrett drawled from the open doorway. He stood with his arms crossed over his chest, a shoulder leaning against the doorframe, studying Dean with a bemused expression.
In Dean’s years with the Fire Service, if he had become close to any one firefighter in particular, it was Tripp Barrett. With only a year’s head start on Barrett, they had worked their way up the ranks together, and though Dean now outranked the Lieutenant, there was a mutual respect between them that had been hard earned. There was also the ability to see right through the other’s façade.
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