Four Seconds to Lose

his hardness digs into me, I let my lips trail against that strong jawline—something I have fantasized about doing every single night for weeks now.

I hear the hiss of air a second before his fingers loop around the thin straps of my panties and he tugs at them. His erection is straining against me. Just as quickly, though, he lets go, and his hands force their way up my back—beneath my fitted dress—to press my chest into his. I feel his heart pounding against mine as he catches my bottom lip with his tongue, beckoning me forward.

I accept the invitation, closing my mouth over his greedily, feeling his wet tongue connect with mine in a possessive dance. My hands find his face and urge him closer to me, relishing the light manly stubble beneath my fingertips. As much as I want all of Cain, I could just as easily do this until the sun rises; I love the way his mouth moves against mine, the way he tastes, the small groans he makes.

But I only have tonight, I remind myself.

Without his lips leaving mine, his hands emerge from beneath my dress to pull the zipper down. The material falls. With the skill of an expert, he has my bra undone in a second, exposing my breasts to the cool night air.

And to him.

His fingers waste no time finding their way to my bare flesh, splayed to stroke me, rubbing both hardened nipples with the pads of his thumbs simultaneously. Shivers run through my body. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve thought about doing this?” he whispers into my mouth.

“Weeks?” I tease, but my heart is racing. I can’t help but begin rocking against him, his confession building my own desire to desperate heights.

He breaks free of the kiss with a groan, his hands sliding down to grip my ass. Guiding me up onto my knees gives his mouth easier access to my nipples. He takes full advantage, pulling one into his mouth. I inhale sharply against the almost painful suction, but he quickly counters it with a soothing tongue.

My arms instinctively wrap around Cain’s head, squeezing him closer to me as my fingers wind through his hair. It’s always styled so perfectly that I expected it to be stiff with product. I’m delighted to find that it’s silky smooth.

I press my body closer to him. I can’t get close enough.

“Fuck, Charlie,” he growls, his thumbs sliding under the straps of my panties to yank them down as far as they can possibly go, until I hear the first tears of the elastic in them from being stretched too far.

I’m not quite sure how Cain maneuvers so smoothly, but in seconds he has me on my back, lying along the seat of the bench, as he stands over me. It’s not the most comfortable thing to lie on but right now, I really don’t care.

With proficient skill, he effortlessly draws my panties all the way to my feet and, removing them, tosses them casually to the ground. Gripping my legs by the calves, he gently bends them and pushes them back, making room to prop himself up with one knee on the bench and a leg on the ground, facing me. His hands land on my knees and begin their descent down the inside of my thighs. Heat rises in my lower belly.

And then he pushes my thighs apart. Wide apart.

Suddenly, the fact that I’ve been taking my top off on a stage for several weeks means less than nothing. I’m lying completely exposed on a pier bench in the middle of the night, for a man that every straight woman lusts after—that I lust after—and the very though has tension suddenly jetting through my body. I don’t know what I expected, but it wasn’t this. Not so quickly.

Cain wasn’t kidding about not wasting time.

He shifts himself to hover over me, the muscles in his neck and shoulders straining beautifully as he holds himself up. “You’re nervous,” he accuses with a tiny, teasing grin before he leans in and lets his tongue dart out to catch my lip.

“No, I’m not,” I lie, feeling my cheeks flush.

“You tensed up,” he pushes, nipping my bottom lip playfully before laying a gentle kiss on my lips. “You sure you’re okay with all this? We can stop.”

It is rather sweet of him to be so in tune with my body and concerned about me, but I don’t want to stop. In response, my fingers wind through his belt buckle, unfastening it and making quick work of his buttons and zipper, my hand diving beneath his briefs to grasp his cock faster than I think he expected me to.

A low groan escapes Cain’s lips.

And I smile. Ben was so very wrong. There’s nothing Hobbit-sized or malformed here. Cain is perfect.

“What’s wrong—you sure you’re okay with this?” I tease, stroking his length, feeling the drops of moisture at the tip. Drops for me. I pull my hand out and make a point of licking my thumb as I peer up at him from beneath heavy lashes. “Are you nervous?”

He chuckles. Though it’s not unpleasant, there’s a hint of wickedness in the sound that I haven’t heard from him before. “Is this a new game of yours? Okay, Charlie, you know I like to play your games.” Shifting out of my grasp, Cain’s hands work my dress down to my ankles and off. “I was going to let you keep this on, but . . .” Standing, he folds my dress into a neat pile and tucks it under my head like a pillow. Then, he resumes his perch on one knee, admiring my body without reservation. I don’t doubt that the moonlight overhead is providing ample light for his perusal. I refuse to cower under his scrutiny, though this is both the most erotic and the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever experienced. “Does Security ever walk down here?” I ask, unable to mask the apprehension in my voice.

His hands move to my thighs. He pushes my legs farther apart, lifting one up to rest on the back of the bench while he urges the other one down, to dangle off the edge. Despite my attempts to act nonchalant, I inhale sharply, my body beginning to ache, searching for some relief, both from him and this compromising position.

“They won’t tonight. I’ve made sure of it. I wouldn’t do this with you out here, otherwise.” I trust that he wouldn’t, which makes me relax, marginally. With the high, thick wooden rails around us and the small structure that serves as a barrier behind us, we are invisible to everyone.

Still . . .

I don’t know many guys who could just sit there and study a naked woman spread out like I am, especially given that I’ve just confirmed that Cain is rock hard and dripping. But this is what I get for trying to tease a man with the self-control of a machine.

I lie there, watching him—fully dressed—stare at me with a low, intense burn within those brown eyes for what is probably only a minute but feels like an eternity. Finally, that curl that I love touches his lips. “I’m not afraid to admit that I’m a little nervous, Charlie.” I gasp as I feel a single finger trail slowly down my center, my body tensing up. “Can you admit that? Or are you going to continue lying?”

Cain is nervous? Panty-dropping hot Cain, who has women literally throwing themselves at him, is nervous about being with me? “Yes, I am,” I finally whisper.

“Good. I know when you’re lying, Charlie, so you may as well just come out and tell me.” I feel the guilt trying to claw its way back to the forefront of my every thought, my every word, with his warning. But then his fingers slide over me a second time, through the increasing slickness, and the guilt instantly retreats. “Do you know how stunning you are?” My breath catches as I feel the welcomed intrusion, his fingers moving in a slow circular motion as he watches my body respond.

I close my eyes just as his touch vanishes and the heat of his breath skates over me. I let out a tiny cry as I feel his tongue against me, replacing the work of his hands.

It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. My fingers once again find their way to his silky hair as I feel him moan against me, as his hands grip my thighs, as I bite my lip to keep from screaming out. All the intensity of those nights—the daydreams, the dances for Cain—combined with the reality that he is here now, with me, have produced a storm inside me that’s ready to erupt.

Arching my back against the pleasure of his tongue—delving and sliding with expertise and specific intentions—I feel a familiar buildup in my lower belly. It doesn’t take long before Cain’s arms tighten around my body to keep me still as he finishes me off, and I have to grit my teeth to keep from giving the security guards a play-by-play.

There’s no tension, no modesty left in me when I’m done and Cain’s lips move up to trail kisses along my belly, my breasts, my neck. When he reaches my mouth, he doesn’t hesitate to lay a gentle kiss, even though I can taste myself on him.