him that mischievous look he loved. 'What's the credit limit on your American Express card?'
'You stop worrying about credit limits and start worrying about whether or not you're still going to be able to walk when I get done with you.'
'I'm trembling, Mr. Tough Guy.' She stuck out her lip-stuck out her front. Then she peeled that slinky black fabric down inch by inch over those full round hips, those shapely thighs, giving a performance so sexy he thought he was going to explode before he ever touched her. Even before she lifted first one high heel and then the other to step out of the puddle of net and straps at her feet, he saw that she hadn't lied about what she didn't have on.
Two black nylon stockings and a sexy pair of high, high heels were all that was left. She was wild and wicked, and for the rest of the night, she was his.
He wanted to run his hands over every inch of that body, slip his fingers into each crevice, but he'd have to get up to do that, which meant he'd lose this incredible view. Instead, he stayed where he was and stroked her with his eyes, sliding his gaze all the way down those incredible legs and back up to the spot between them.
The seconds ticked by, one after another, and as the silence lengthened, Phoebe's nervousness returned. Why didn't he say something? The longer he looked, the more certain she became that he had found something wrong with her. She had been bubbling with sexy confidence, but now she remembered that she wasn't even close to fashion model skinny. Her thighs weren't thin enough, her hips were definitely too round, and the only time her stomach had been truly concave was when she'd had the flu. When he showed no sign of breaking the silence, she lost her nerve and reached down to snatch the straps of her dress.
He was immediately on his feet, concern furrowing his brow. 'Phoebe, honey, I was kidding about the hooker thing. You know that, don't you?' He pulled the dress from her fingers and took her in his arms.
His chest was warm against her breasts. She pressed her cheek to one of his hard pectorals. Her mind told her she wasn't safe in his arms, but her heart felt as if it had found a home.
'Tell me what's wrong, darlin'. Have I been teasing you too much? You know I didn't mean to hurt your feelings.'
She could hide behind her old flirtatious evasions, or she could be honest. 'I'm embarrassed to have you look at me like that.'
'Like what?'
'I know I should lose ten pounds, but I can't diet, and you're used to skinnier women. Valerie is-'
'What does Valerie have to do with this?'
'She's skinny, and I'm a little-I'm fat!'
'Man-oh-man. I'm giving up on women. I'm definitely giving up.' As he grumbled, he began to caress her hips, and the skin at her temples tingled from the soft motion of his lips. 'I know lots of women feel insecure about their bodies, and I know I should be sweet and understanding about this. But, Phoebe, honey, having you worry about being too fat is pretty much like having a billionaire worry about his money being too green.'
'You were looking at me.'
'You've got me there, but I've learned my lesson. From now on, I'm gonna shut my eyes.' He lifted both her breasts in his palms, bent his head, and found the left nipple with his mouth. As he suckled her, liquid threads of pleasure, hot and tingling, spread through her. Her insecurities faded as she clung to his shoulders and offered herself up to him.
She didn't know how they got to the bed or what happened to her shoes, only that he was laying her on the soft, patterned blanket. She watched as he took off the rest of his clothes and came to lie beside her.
'I still have my stockings on.'
'I know.' He ran his hands over the sheer, black nylon and up to the soft, unprotected skin of her inner thigh, and she could see that the stockings excited him.
'Spread your legs for me, honey.'
She did as he asked.
'Farther,' he urged. 'Pull up your knees.'
She did that, too.
'You're looking again.' She gazed down at the top of his head.
'And you're just as pretty here as you are everywhere else.'
She could barely breathe as he did a moist tracing of her with the tip of his index finger. Taking his time. Looking his fill. Sometimes pressing his lips to the insides of her thighs. Murmuring little nonsense syllables against her skin.
His finger grew slippery as it pushed up a little and then withdrew, going round and round on its slow forever mission. She gasped for breath, taking short, quick pants. Her body was no longer part of the room, no longer lying on the bed, but spiraling toward some hot wet land.
He bent his head and took her with his mouth. She lost herself in pleasure. Then she felt not one finger, but two. Sliding. Pumping.
She knew he was watching her. Heard him praise her passion. 'That's good, baby. So good. Let it go. Let it go, sweetheart.'
'No,' she gasped, barely able to speak. 'No. I want you.'
His fingers went deeper. 'Do you, baby? Do you?'
'Yes, I…'
Her eyes flew open. Those fingers! They were everywhere. He knew no shame.
He laughed a devil's laugh, earthy and lusty. 'Relax, baby. Relax and let me feel you.'
She moaned and let him do what he wanted because nothing on earth could have made her tell him to stop, not even when he took her nipple in his mouth, suckled hard, and hurled her over the mountaintop.
She flew through space, end over end, spiraling, hitting the sun and then falling back to earth. He caught her safely before she hit the ground.
Long moments passed before her eyelids drifted open. 'I couldn't wait for you,' she finally whispered.
'I didn't let you.' He settled between her legs.
She was slick and wet, but she still had trouble taking him. Feeling that sweet stretch, she tilted her hips to get more, then whimpered as he gave it to her.
He froze. 'Am I hurting you?'
'No,' she gasped in a thick whisper. 'It's wonderful.'
He arched his back like a great jungle cat, drove his hips, and she came again.
He laughed as he felt her shudders, then filled her mouth with his tongue and took her body away from her. It was his now. Sweet spoils won on a silken battlefield. Every inch belonged to him, and he would take it as he wished. Hard and deep, letting her feel the raw power of a strength so much greater than hers. Using her shamefully. Sensually. Making her cry out again and again in passion.
Sweat slicked his body but he wouldn't let himself climax because he wasn't done with her; he hadn't felt enough of her, not even when he had put her knees to her shoulders and driven so deeply he was blowing apart.
It wasn't enough! He wanted more. More of her sex. Her heart. Her soul.
She gave a soft cry that tore him apart, and something was. unraveling inside him, something that should have remained coiled up tight and hard and safe. Frightened by instincts that had been developed in his childhood, instincts that warned him against the searing, unbearable pain of soft emotions, he turned her over like a rag doll. With one hand resting lightly on the back of her neck to hold her head down, he raised her hips, drawing her to her knees. Her blond hair swirled like a golden web on the pillow. He thrust into her from behind while he cupped the spilling bounty of her breasts in his hands and rolled the nipples between his fingers, taking her to that sweetest of all boundaries just this side of pain.
She was crying out his name, begging him to hurl her over the edge again, and this time he knew he couldn't send her alone.
Her face was hidden, her sex jutted up for his use. He was rutting like an animal, so he shouldn't have felt this all-encompassing tenderness, sensations so warm and soft they almost made him weep. He willed those gentle feelings away, cursed himself, but as she once again convulsed around him, he would have died for her.
His. fierceness left him, and he turned her back so he could gaze down at that soft beautiful face, cheeks flushed, lips parted. Pulling her tight against him, he squeezed his eyes shut against the surge of an emotion he refused to name.
