sting he stroked away with his tongue. “Still not saying it…”
Her skin had heated as if she had a fever, but she didn’t feel sick, she felt exhilarated. It was him, he gave that feeling to her with every taste, every touch, banishing away her worries, the mountains of stress on her shoulders. Banishing it and giving her something else instead, something she absolutely did not want to face. “I’m too stubborn to give in,” she admitted softly.
“Just one of the things I’m learning to appreciate about you, darlin’. Though I might have said bull-headed instead of stubborn.”
Arching up, enjoying his sharp hiss of arousal, she said, “Shut up and do me.”
“Oh, absolutely.” His low laugh warmed her further, and so did how he kissed his way along her jaw to her ear. “But let the record show you asked.”
“Told.”
“Begged.”
Before she could sputter and shove him away, he captured her mouth with his in a deep, wet, carnal kiss that left no doubt as to his plans, plans he furthered along by stripping away her pants while still holding her pinned to the mattress.
“Not fair,” she gasped. “Your pants-”
“If I take my hands off you, are you going to play nice?”
“Of course.”
He narrowed his eyes, but an aroused man didn’t have much in the way of working brain cells, and Bo was little exception. He pulled his weight off her and sat back on his heels as he unzipped his pants, the muscles in his rock- solid chest rippling, leaving her with a shocking need to put her mouth on him. Anywhere. Everywhere.
He eyed her as he slowly pulled a string of condoms from his pocket, dropping them to the mattress by her head as he kicked off his shoes, then came up to his knees to shove his pants to his thighs.
That actually sidetracked her for a beat, as her gaze traveled south and locked on her target. She didn’t realize that she licked her lips in anticipation until a choked out “oh, man” escaped him.
When he sat to kick the pants off his legs, she made her move, pouncing, tackling him midchest and taking him down to the bed, making sure to grab the condoms before they hit the floor.
Now he lay beneath her, his pants still at his thighs as she straddled his hips, gliding her hands along his arms, holding him down at the biceps, which flexed once, then went still.
“Is this your way of playing nice?” he murmured, lying still like a panther; poised, patient, just waiting to make his move.
“Believe me,” she said, “what comes next is going to be nice. Very nice.”
“Please be gentle,” he quipped, but lay there, surprisingly pliant.
Ha! As if he’d ever been pliant a day in his life. “Did you worry about gentle the last time?” she asked. “When you shoved me against my own front door and had your merry way with me?”
“Hey, I’m the one with rug burns on my ass.”
The memory of him sprawled out on her floor while she ran her mouth over that edible body tightened hers. “Complaining?”
“Not likely.”
Never underestimating him, she remained crouched over the top of him, the both of them well aware that he could have easily reversed their positions if he wanted.
“What are you going to do with me?” he asked.
In answer, she tore off a condom.
“Good start,” he said sounding a little pressed for air.
With a smile, she went to work protecting them both, stroking the condom down his silky hard length, probably taking far longer than necessary but she found she got a vicarious thrill out of the sounds he made when she stroked him. By the time she finished, Bo was sweating and she was shaking. “They should make those things bigger,” she said, and he let out a laughing moan. She bent over him again, pressing her lips to his jaw, then his throat, overcome by a sudden need to be gentle.
He gripped her hips, his laughter also gone. “Mel?”
“Yeah?”
“You’re killing me.”
“Oh! Sorry!” She tried to lift her weight off him but he held her still.
“No, not too heavy. I meant because I’m going to explode and you haven’t done anything to me yet.”
She eyed his penis, which twitched. “Ah. Well…”
“What?”
“I hate to ask…”
“Ask,” he said, looking a little desperate.
She stroked a finger over him, loving how that made his back arch up a bit, his hips push almost helplessly toward her. “I was thinking…”
“Seriously,” he grated out. “Anything, Mel.”
Power surged through her at that. “Maybe you could beg me for a change.”
His eyes locked onto hers. His fingers tightened on her hips, and the air charged, crackled, and popped around them. She’d bet her Hawker that he’d never begged for a single thing in his entire life. Never had to.
He slid one hand from her hip to low on her back, nudging her forward just a tad. Now the very tip of his erection teased her right where she wanted him the most. It tore a sound from deep in her throat, a sound that came awful close to begging so she clamped her lips shut, her hands flat on his pecs, her head bowed, air panting in and out of her mouth as if she’d just raced a marathon in the snow, uphill both ways. “Beg me, damn it.”
His lips quirked, though she could feel him tremble as he cupped a breast. “I’m getting to it.”
“Clearly,” she managed, biting her lips to keep a gasp in when he used his long fingers to tease her nipple, “you are not desperate enough, a state you put me in quite effortlessly.”
He shot her a cocky grin. “Is that right?”
Damn it. “Oh, that’s so it. Prepare for desperation.” Reaching down, she wrapped her fingers around his hot, velvety length and stroked him against her, for her own pleasure.
His fingers tightened on her hips. A rough groan tumbled from him.
Hmmm. Now they were getting somewhere. She stroked him over her again until he glistened with her own excitement, and then again right…where…she…needed…him…the…most-
“Christ,” he said thickly. “Look how beautiful you are.”
She skimmed her free hand up over her own belly, her ribs, then her breast.
“Oh, God.” His eyes darkened. Went opaque. “Definitely feeling desperate here, Mel.”
“If you were desperate,” she panted, desperate herself, thank you very much, “you wouldn’t be able to talk.” Again she stroked him over her, but that turned out to be a two-edged sword because her own body was reacting, heating, tightening. Begging. Because she had to, she allowed the very tip of him to slip inside her, stretching her sensitized flesh, stretching and filling-
“More.” Breathing hard, he arched up. “More.”
She was dying for more, but she shook her head. “Not yet.”
With a groan, he pushed his hips up, his hands trying to urge her closer, to let all of him in. His abs were tight, his nipples tight, his skin hot and damp, his eyes all but flaming as they held hers, letting her see everything he felt, which was possibly the sexiest, most arousing thing she’d ever experienced.
And just like that, with his fingers on her breast and only the tip of her inside her, she began to lose it.
“Oh, yeah,” he murmured, and grazed his thumb over her clit.
That was it, all she needed, and she was gone, completely gone, in a spectacular orgasm that left her deaf, blind, and mute. “God,” she finally breathed as she sank down over his chest like warm putty. “What is that?”
“I don’t know, but stick around, there’s more.”
Stick around…The thought might have made her sad because he wasn’t going to stick around, but then he thrust up into her, filling her to bursting.
His hands gripped her hips, set her rhythm as she rode him, and when she heard him call out her name in a hungry, heated voice, it-unbelievably-sent her skittering over the edge again.
He joined her that time, and as she fell, she thought…It’s so easy with him. So damned easy, it terrified
