“The Rockwell legacy, hmm?”
“One of them. Well?” He lowered his mouth to hover mere inches above hers. “Do I have to resort to dirty tricks to get you to say yes?”
“Dirty tricks…just how dirty are we talking?” She ran her tongue across her lips, not for seduction, but out of nerves, and the sheer thrill of being this close to him, caught up in the powerful tractor beam of attraction between them.
“Is that a yes?” he growled as he placed his hands on her hips and tugged her closer. Maybe an inch separated them now, an inch filled with heat and energy and explosive promise.
It’s a yes please, she wanted to say, but her words failed her. She nodded, then completed the connection between them by closing that last inch. Electricity blazed through her as her front pressed against his. Her nipples brushed against his bare chest and instantly rose into tight, throbbing peaks. The hot bulge in his pants pressed just above her pubic bone. She felt his heat all the way through their two layers of clothing. It made her dizzy.
He yanked her against him, digging his hands into her hips. That iron grip of his was familiar now, and it immediately sent desire flooding through her. “Yes to the lodge or yes to this?”
Yes to just about anything right now, was what her heart wanted to say. “Both,” she managed. “I’d like to stay at the lodge, as long as we tell everyone what’s going on and they agree. And I mean everyone has to agree. Family, staff, everyone who’s staying there.”
“Fair. And this?”
He demonstrated “this” by cupping her ass and bringing right up against his hard shaft.
“No, that’s not a yes.”
Instantly he dropped his hand, which made her want him even more. She could trust him. That was all she needed to let the dam burst.
“It’s a hell yes.”
He practically growled his reaction to that. “You little…you’re going to pay for that.”
With no visible effort, he scooped her into his arms as if she weighed no more than a bag of feathers. He strode toward his bedroom with her in his arms, and she had no more “no’s” to give.
17
As soon as they were inside Griffin’s bedroom, which had a panoramic view of the twinkling city lights and the dark ocean beyond, they both lost all pretense of being in control of this thing. They grabbed at each other’s clothes, frantic to get naked. She pushed the jacket off his shoulders—was he still wearing that?—and he went after the hidden zipper on the side of her dress.
Now bare chested, his belt undone, he turned her so he could tackle the jeweled collar of her dress. There was some kind of fastening there, but he couldn’t located it, and the creamy smooth slope of her back drew him like a magnet. He kissed her upper back, found each smooth knob of her spine with his lips, drank in her shivers. He pushed aside the fabric to expose more of her back—so stunningly beautiful in the moonlight—then unzipped the piece of black lingerie she wore under it.
Her flesh sprang free, lush and untamed, and he groaned at the sight. “How the hell have I managed to keep my hands off you before now? It’s a fucking miracle.”
Her breath was coming fast, following every stroke of his hands across her body. He reached around to glide his hands along her rib cage, up the tender skin below her breasts. No bra—the dress had its own padding. Thank God, because right now all he wanted was to fill his hands with those generous breasts, to feel the peaks of her nipples brush against his palms.
Oh sweet Jesus, it was everything, feeling her like this. Watching her body arc under his hands, hearing her whimper of desire as he plucked at her nipples. His cock was a pulsing, throbbing rod in his pants, and just to get some relief he pressed into the sweet, sweet curves of her ass.
She pushed back against him and he nearly exploded right then and there. Nearly bent her over, pushed up her dress and plunged into her softness.
But he wrestled himself under control and instead bent her over enough to sneak his other hand under her panties. Not panties—some kind of other underclothes, loosened enough for him to slide his hand between flesh and fabric.
Heat and moisture welcomed his hand. He sought her out with his longest finger, seeking the knob of flesh that would send the most searing pleasure through her. Soft folds, silky moisture sliding through his fingers, flesh swelling where he reached her clit. Her body arched against him, a long moan floating through the room, desire encapsulated into a sound. Even though it was such a soft sound, he heard it clearly, or maybe he felt it in the trembles vibrating through her.
He thought of the deaf rider who relied on vibrations to win races, and smiled. Something beautiful. This was something beautiful, the sensual way Serena moved against him, the sleek texture of her skin against his chest, the way she pressed against his hand, seeking friction, pressure, release.
He pulled his hand away from her, just briefly, because he wanted the full sensual experience of her intimacy—the taste of her on his tongue gave him a heady rush.
“I want to taste you. I want you bare naked on that bed, your legs wide open, your pussy in my face, your clit on my tongue.”
His dirty mutters made her gasp and press harder against his hand, her hips grinding.
“You want to come first? Come so I can lick you clean after,” he growled, his cock jerking at the picture he painted. “Come right into my hand, right now.”
“Oh God,” she gasped. She shoved her ass against him. He got the message—harder, faster. With one hand still teasing her nipple, the other palming her sex, he took everything up a notch. He pinned her between his shaft and his hand, plunging a finger inside her, rubbing faster, riding her slippery juices as far and fast as he could. She writhed in his arms, a feverish mass of woman on the edge.
He had to get her over that cliff before he lost his grip completely. He called on his legendary focus and shoved aside his own raging lust. All he knew and felt was the way she quivered every time he tugged on her nipple—do that again—then the other nipple—the way her hips wanted to go buck wild, but he couldn’t let her or he might lose contact with the hot wild bit of flesh driving this thing.
“Please, please,” she whispered desperately. “That feels so fucking good, Griffin.”
He smiled painfully, since the word “fuck” in her husky voice added another layer of intensity to his lust. Maybe she needed some dirty talk. “Yeah it does. I can feel your sweet clit about to explode in my hand. I can’t wait to get my hard cock inside you. So hot and wet, and these nipples, oh my God…” He fondled the peaks of her breasts until they throbbed against his palm. “I can’t wait to get my mouth on you, every bit of you, especially that hot little thing between your legs, this thing.” He tightened his grip on her pussy, feeling it pulse, then convulse.
And there it was, an orgasmic wave slamming into her, wrenching a cry of pleasure from her. She shook against his body, and he found himself grateful for the rock solid frame that enabled him to stay with her, to help her ride her ecstasy all the way to the end.
When she slumped boneless against him, a deep tenderness came over him. This vibrant, beautiful, sassy woman had come apart in his arms, and now nestled quiet and trusting against his chest. Could there be any greater satisfaction?
Okay, maybe his cock might have a different answer to that question.
She turned around to face him, while he kept his arms looped around her back. Her hair had come completely free of its twist and that peony was nowhere to be seen. Her locks tumbled in wild waves across her shoulders. He filled his hands with it, savoring the rich texture and imagining it spread across his pillow, contrasting with the bare skin of her naked body, because any day now he’d figure out how to get that collar undone… He squinted at it, puzzled.
She gave him a hazy, sensuous smile that he wished he could bottle up for lonely nights. With one lazy movement, she reached up and found the catch at the back of her collar. “I know, it’s a tricky one. The salesgirl had to show me three times.�
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“How can I handle a five hundred pound piece of highly machined Japanese motorcycle without a single spill for the entire length of a half-hour race, but I can’t find the damn catch in a—” He forgot the last word of that sentence as the dress dropped away from her body.
Sensuous wasn’t even the right word. Curvaceous, sure, but it was more. Exuberant, maybe. Her curves were exuberant, almost gravity-defying. That dizzying hairpin slope between her ribs and her hipbones made his mouth water. Those full breasts with their rich areolas, so spectacular, their nipples so prominent and proud, she should be the one people painted.
“You’re a work of art.” Hopefully, his admiration came across as sincere and not like some weird come-on.
“Human bodies are,” she agreed. She tugged his belt out of its loops and tossed it aside. “This one in front of me is the perfect example. You should do your sister a favor and pose for her class.”
He laughed, a little strained because she was now unzipping his trousers. “She told you about that?”
“Yes, and the fact that I’ve been imagining you naked ever since just shows what a good idea it is.”
“No fucking way. I’ll pose for you, but not for a damn class.”
His forceful tone made her laugh. “It’s not personal. It’s for art. Like painting a vase of flowers or something, or a still life with apples and a random bowl with annoying shadows you can’t quite get right.”
He had a hard time focusing on her words because she was reaching inside his pants and stroking the length of his cock. It was still tucked inside his underwear, straining at the fabric like a racehorse waiting for the signal.
He swore as she lifted his shaft out and closed her warm hands around it. “Fuck,” he hissed through his teeth. He pulsed against her tight grip. He could come right here, right now, bursting into her hands, but he didn’t want that. He wanted inside her. But maybe it was too soon, too fast. He clenched his teeth against the wave of energy gathering at the base of his spine, ready to erupt.
“So there’s something I’ve been wondering,” she murmured as those soft hands caressed him. “Did you or did you not bring any condoms with you?”
18
The expression on Griffin’s face when she asked that question made her insides turn to jelly. The man was a sex god and he didn’t seem to really know it. He just did what he did—touched her the way she craved, made her come so hard—just from his hand—made her feel beautiful, sexy, extraordinary—just by the way he looked at her.
She wanted to give him at least a taste of what he’d given her.
“Hang on,” he said gruffly. Leaving her, he stepped out of his pants and strode into the bathroom, where he must have left his travel bag. She couldn’t drag her eyes away from his ass as he walked. Those firm muscles moving under the cotton of his briefs were pretty much the sexiest thing she’d ever seen—other than the way he’d looked with his dress shirt open over his chest, exposing the dark swirls of hair and ridiculous definition of his muscles.
Or how about the way he’d looked in his tuxedo at the party—polished with an edge of roughness, polite with a touch of reserve, confident with a hint of lost.
So many aspects of Griffin captured her attention and refused to let it go.
Preparing for his return, she lay on the bed, on her side, and adopted a pose straight out of a harem. Head resting on her hand, body stretched long, one knee slightly bent over the other, every curve amplified by the position. Might as well work it, since she wasn’t getting rid of those curves anytime soon.
Just then Griffin walked back into the room, buck naked, and she decided that all those other aspects of Griffin would have to take a backseat for now. She needed to truly take in his magnificence. Every muscle rippled under taut skin, and a subtle monochrome tattoo that spread across one upper arm and part of his chest. She hadn’t looked at it closely in the Body Issue photo. Now she noticed something that looked like feathers, along with some tribal looking geometric shapes. She found the design fascinating, but nothing compared to the body it was etched on.
Not one single speck of flab anywhere to be seen, just hard chiseled perfection and a confident masculinity that had him moving toward her like a conquering hero. His erection had flagged slightly during the walk into the bathroom, but it still hung heavy between his thighs, manhood made flesh, half hidden in a dark nest of shadows.
Wow.
Even though she was still basking in the afterglow of the orgasm he’d ignited in her, she felt a new flush of desire as he approached. He held a condom foil in one hand, still unopened.
Resting one knee on the bed, his powerful thigh flexing, he slid his hot gaze the full length of her body. “You are one hellaciously sexy woman, Alison Serena Riggs.”
She smiled and reached for the condom in his hand. Coming up to her knees, she ripped open the packet. While she had him there, she put her lips to his cock, to the delicate skin right at the tip. He responded instantly, his shaft surging against her mouth. She kissed him—a chaste kiss, no tongue, just a light brush of her lips that said something along the lines of ‘hello, how are you, beautiful?’
With a growl, he came forward, toppling her back until she was flat on the bed, with him braced over her. “No more teasing, wench. If I wait any longer to get inside you I might detonate right here in this fancy-ass hotel. Where’s that fucking condom?”
Laughing, she handed it over. She’d wanted to roll it on him herself, giving her a chance to appreciate every hard inch of him. But this was good too. Faster. He got that thing on his penis quicker than a Band-aid, and then he was looming over her, all powerful straining muscles and hot eyes.
She arched under him, stretching her body to its full length, luxuriating in the sheer maleness of him.
Then he was gone, and his head was between her legs and his tongue on her clit and she was practically shrieking because the orgasm from before had barely taken the edge off her need for him and it felt so good.
“You said no more teasing,” she gasped as soon as she could catch her breath between strokes of his tongue. But her legs fell open for him, as her body decided on its own that she had no problem with what he was doing. He dragged the flat of his tongue across her still-sensitive tissues. Every nerve ending screamed and her body twisted under the sweet assault of his mouth.
The best part of it? He was obviously loving every second of this, not just because he was driving her into a blubbering mess, but because he savored the taste and feel of her pussy. She could sense it in every stroke of his tongue, in the way he held her tight—but so gently—in the sensitive way he paid attention to her reactions.
And then—thank the sweet lord—he touched her just so—a pinch that set her off like a rocket—and she was gone, again, gone into that sweet whirling world of bliss.
She was still gasping when he brought his shaft to her entrance and poised himself over her.
“Serena,” he groaned, and she took a moment to note that he was still using the name she preferred, and that he could call her “gravy boat” and she wouldn’t mind.
“Griffin. Please, get that thing inside me.” She tried to say it lightly, intending it as a sexy invitation, but her voice was trembling with the aftereffects of that second orgasm. This experience was having a deep effect on her, so deep she didn’t quite want to acknowledge it. It didn’t feel like just a hot encounter between two people highly attracted to each other. It felt like more, but she didn’t want to think about that. She just wanted to enjoy this.
He said nothing, just guided himself inside her, one swollen inch at a time. He was thick and hard and rigid, all man, sliding deeper and deeper, expanding her inner walls, making room for himself. She saw his arms shake from the effort of holding himself up, so he didn’t crush her, and holding himself back, so he didn’t shatter her.
“It’s okay,” she whispered. “I’m a big girl, and I want you all. Every bit of you.” No lightness now, just sheer inten
sity.
He surged inside her, finding a spot that flared into a bright burst of pleasure. “Oh my God,” she moaned. “Oh Griffin, that feels incredible. Right there.”
He moved inside her like the tide, in and out, bringing waves of sensation with him with every stroke. Hard and fast, then excruciatingly slow, taunting her, then driving deep again.
He was muttering something in her ear, she couldn’t really make out the words, except for “hot” and “want” and “fuck” and “deep.” His hot breath against her ear, a drop of sweat from his dark hair, the slight abrasion of his chest hair against her nipples, the drag of his pelvis across her clit, it all added up to an incredible symphony of sensation.
She started babbling something too, something about “now” and “again” and “more” until she was really just panting more than anything else and they were both moving together, riding a wave that took them higher and higher, so high she could see everything spread out below—past, present, future—and then crashing down into a tumble of pleasure and bliss. He exploded too—she felt his body go taut and a hard groan split the air.
Finally it receded, that wave of orgasm, leaving them clasped together on the bed. She panted under him, and he rolled over quickly, his chest heaving with great gasps. “Holy fuck,” he said. “Damn. Sorry for swearing.”
She laughed, every cell of her body so satisfied she felt like a pile of wet noodles. “I know. That was…I don’t even know what that was.”
“If you figure it out let me know. My brain just got fried.”
They lay there for long sweet moments in a silence made partly of happiness, partly of awkwardness. Her body felt so content, but her mind kept whispering problems into her ear. Was this a bad idea? What about all the shit going on in her life? What about the shit going on in his? Could all that shit possibly be compatible?
The Rogue Page 13