Behind Closed Doors

Hot and hard. She reached down and stroked him from the base to the tip. He was hugely erect. Again.

He groaned. “Don't get me started. Hands off. Sleep time.”

She took her hand away reluctantly. “Is this, urn, normal?”

“You know how I feel about normal, sweetheart.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Ah. You're referring to my perpetual boner, I take it.” He kissed the top of her head. “Well, I've never had any problems getting it up, but I have never had so much trouble keeping it down until I met you.”

“Oh. I'm, ah, flattered.”

“Don't mind him.” His lazy voice had a hint of laughter in it. “Ignore the savage beast, and eventually hell calm down.”

“You can sleep like that?”

His chest vibrated with silent laughter under her ear. “Let me worry about that,” he said, “Get some rest, for God's sake.”

To her surprise, she realized that she actually could. She was warm and relaxed, curled up on top of him, resting on his strength. For the first time, she wasn't all alone in the dark with her monsters.

What a crazy day. So much had happened, all at once. She had a boyfriend. She was giving him a key to her house. She had confided her darkest, most painful secrets to him. He warmed her, charged her with wild energy and euphoria, maybe even courage and luck.

They were hurtling forward at three hundred miles an hour with no brakes, and she didn't even want to slow down.

She'd never had a dream so delicious, so awash with sensation. Warmth and wetness, luscious heat and light and shifting colors. Touches, melting and swirling. Divine pleasure, as if a god were making love to her. Then the seamless slide into consciousness, the faint morning light that seeped into the room pressing on her eyes. She tried not to wake up, to make the beautiful dream linger and last, but the pleasure didn't fade. It got stronger. She opened her eyes cautiously.

The comforter was folded up from the bottom and flung up over her chest—and Seth was lying between her legs.

Licking her.

She jerked, startled, and he gripped her hips in his hands, murmuring something reassuring. She flung aside the comforter, and he lifted his head just long enough to give her a smug, satisfied grin. “Good morning,” he said, putting his mouth to her again.

She writhed at the delicious intimacy. “Seth, you're obsessed,” she whispered.

He laughed, and her sex vibrated with the resonance of his voice, the sweet, tickling heat of his breath. “Yeah,” he admitted. “I love giving you head The taste of you drives me out of my mind.” He lifted his head and stared into her eyes. “That a problem for you?”

“Dear God, no,” she gasped. His tongue slid up and down her labia, circling her clitoris. He drew it into his mouth, sucking on it with exquisite care. “I just think that you— oh—”

“That I'm what?” he demanded.

“That you're the p-perfect boyfriend,” she stammered.

She couldn't speak, or think. She let him work his erotic magic, lapping and toying with her with sensual tenderness, his tongue flicking and dancing across her sweetest, hottest spot until he pushed her relentlessly over the crest Spasms of bright, hot rapture shuddered through her.

He rested his head against her thigh for a long moment before he sat up. He wiped his face and gazed at her with an odd combination of lust and wonder. “Good morning ,” he said again as he got up.

Raine sat up and stared at his body. His wiry muscles were so long and lean and elegantly proportioned. To say nothing of the thick, engorged penis that bobbed enticingly in front of him. “Good morning,” she replied, suddenly shy. Wild woman inside her was jumping up and down, pointing to his fierce erection, and saying, Mine. That's mine, and I want it. Give it to me. Now” She struggled to express the impulse in socially acceptable terms, but her brain wasn't functioning very well. She gestured towards his groin. “Seth. Do you want to, um—”

“Of course. But you're new to this, and we went at it like a couple of minks last night. I don't want to overdo it. I'm not a total maniac.”

“I am,” she said baldly.

His eyes lit up with hungry anticipation, “It won't be sweet or soft. That's not where I'm at right now.”

The words hung between them, a blunt warning, and a challenge.

“That's all right,” she said. “That's not where I'm at, either.”

Wild woman capered and howled with delight as he grabbed a condom from the shrinking stash on the bed stand, ripped it open and smoothed it over himself. He grabbed her ankles, dragging her until her bottom was at the edge of the bed, then pushed her onto her back. He spread her thighs up, folding her wide open like a full-blown flower.

His hands gripped her knees, opening her. His eyes bored into hers. “I don't want you to go back to that asshole's office today.”

He was seeking to assert dominance over her with his fierce masculine energy, but his vain efforts just aroused her more. “I'm sorry you feel that way,” she said. She gripped his arms, pulling him down to her. “Come on, Seth. Don't be coy.”

“Open up for me,” he said softly. “All the way. Ankles for earrings.” He pushed her thighs still wider and spread the lips of her sex open delicately with his fingertips. “Perfect. Show me that sweet sexy thing, all buttered up just for me.”

“I'm ready,” she urged him, arching her back.

“I know you are, sweetheart. I've got your sex juice all over my face.” He slid his hand beneath her bottom and gently nudged the blunt tip of him inside her. “God, look at you.”

“Do it,” she snapped. “Don't be a tease.”

She cried out at his first deep thrust, but not in pain. He stopped, alarmed. “You OK?”

She yanked him closer. “I'm fine, I'm great. I love it. Please, Seth.”

“You got it,” he muttered. “Nothing fancy today, sweetheart.”

He gave her exactly what she wanted, a deep, surging rhythm that caressed every part of her swollen, aching sex, to her very depths. He arched over her, the thick, heavy muscles of his shoulders taut and corded, his face rigid with concentration. Sobbing breaths gasped out of her with each plunge, and she clutched his arms and urged him on. Neither wanted anything other than that rhythm, just more of it. Hotter and faster, deep and furious and relentless, until they both exploded.

He collapsed and draped himself over her, trembling. “My God,” he said. “It's always like this with you. It scares me.”

She reached down and ran her fingers lazily through his sweat-dampened hair. “What scares you?”

He pulled out of her and folded down to his knees, hooking his arms under her legs. He clasped her hips in his arms and rested his head on her belly. “You're scaring me,” he mumbled.

“Seth,” she murmured, wiggling. “I'm all wet.”

“Yeah, and I want to rub it all over myself. Your perfume makes me crazy with lust” He inhaled, a deep, hungry whiff. She giggled at his foolishness. “I told you, I don't wear perfume.”

“I'm not talking about perfume from a bottle. I'm talking about your perfume. All the scented things you use, soap and lotion and stuff, they add to the mix, but they're only overtones. The basic perfume is like—” he stopped, burying his nose in her navel and breathing deeply, “—like a cross between honey and violets. Violets after a rainstorm. But warmer, hotter. Softer. Mix the smell of sex into it, and I'm a dead man.”

She struggled up onto her elbows and gazed at him, touched. “Why, Seth. You're a poet,” she said softly.

He looked alarmed. “No way. I'm just stating the plain facts. They just happen to sound poetic by accident.”

“Oh. I see,” she murmured. “God forbid that I should think you had a lyrical, poetic side “

He scowled at her as he pulled off the condom, wrapped it up and disposed of it. “Yeah,” he muttered suspiciously.