Striptease Page 8

  This time when he moved, he leaned his head forward, his hand cupping her nape as his lips drew within millimeters of hers. “Melanie?”

  “Hmm?” she hummed back, feeling the warmth of his breath and his body, smelling his clean hot skin, wanting desperately to taste him.

  “Can I have you?” he whispered.

  She gave an imperceptible nod because she didn’t trust what was left of her voice to get the job done. “As long as I can have you.”

  He leaned into her body then, touching her the way she’d wanted to be touched since he’d hovered at her back and beside her that day in the church. With his palms flat on the door above her shoulders, he brushed his lips from her ear to her temple and down her cheekbone.

  Her eyelids fluttered shut and she raised her chin, giving him access to her neck. He took it, nipping lightly at her skin until she finally slipped her fingers beneath his waistband, urging him closer.

  She felt every tremor of the groan that rolled up his throat. “Melanie?”

  “Jacob?” She blew her answering question softly over his ear.

  A shudder ripped through him. “You sure this is what you want?”

  “I’m sure it’s what I want right now.”

  He hesitated, then ground out, “And that’s enough?”

  “You tell me,” she answered, her head turning and her open mouth moving toward his throat.

  He stood still and let her explore his skin with her tongue, let her nip her way along the resilient flesh of his shoulder, let her leave a trail of tiny damp kisses beneath his collarbone. His skin was salty and wonderfully warm. And she wanted to taste more. To feast. To feed the hunger he’d driven her to feel.

  She tingled and ached but not nearly enough. Not completely. Not in the way she wanted, the way his eyes and the sounds he’d made promised to provide. So when he backed away from her mouth and all the fun she was having, it was all she could do not to scream.

  “Why did you make that tape?” He glared at her, his chest heaving.

  “Because your tape pissed me off,” she answered, breathing equally hard.

  “That wasn’t what I intended.”

  She didn’t care that he seemed contrite. “Then your intentions fell short, didn’t they?”

  “You say that like you know what they were.”

  She didn’t care that he appeared defensive. “Does it matter?”

  “I thought so at the time.”

  She didn’t care that he looked put out. “And now?”

  “Now I don’t want to talk about it.”

  All she cared about was getting him out of his clothes. “Why’s that? You can’t talk and fuck at the same time?”

  He took a moment before he answered, a moment in which Melanie’s frustration reached an unbearable height. A moment in which she panicked, wondering if she’d actually pushed him too far. Goading was so much more palatable than begging, but right now, here with this man, she wasn’t above getting down on her knees.

  He ran a fingertip from her temple to her jaw, her chin and down her neck to her chest, where he drew a line back and forth along the scoop edge of her tank top. “Are you sure talking is what you really want me to do with my mouth?”

  Finally! “I’d rather you shut up and show me what you can do with your tongue.”

  His face but inches from hers, he reached for the front fastenings to her khaki shorts. Melanie reached behind her and locked the door, praying everyone wanting to swim had already changed, because Jacob had opened the fly of her shorts and was now on his knees blowing warm breath on her belly. Her eyes rolled back and she closed them as the air-conditioned chill hit more and more of her skin.

  She shivered from the cold, from the hot touch of Jacob’s fingers where they drifted down her inner thighs. He was even better at taking off her clothes than she was, slowly slipping her shorts down her legs, his hands and mouth following the downward path, tickling, teasing, tasting her skin.

  She blew out several short, panting breaths, her hands splayed flat on the door at her hips to keep her from sliding to the floor. Jacob had returned for her panties, and she thought she was going to die. He snugged a finger into a leg opening, his knuckle grazing her sex as he dragged the back of that one finger from her clit to her core.

  His mouth opened over the fabric, the moist heat of his breath melting her panties. Or so it seemed since, as damp as they were, they no longer offered any sort of barrier. And then the lack didn’t matter because she wasn’t wearing them. Jacob had used that one finger hooked over the crotch to pull the scrap of silk to her feet.

  She wanted to open her eyes, to read his face, to divine what he was thinking. Instead, she opened her legs and dropped her head back against the door. She wasn’t sure what to do with her hands, and wanted to help, wanted to use her own fingers to spread open her sex, giving Jacob full access. But then there was no need.

  He’d taken his thumbs, dipped them briefly into her entrance, then used the moisture to spread open her folds, revealing the hard knot where sensation stabbed in sharp, prickly bursts. The bursts intensified with no more than a brush from his thumbs, from the hot breath he blew, from the pressure he applied on either side of her clit.

  He rubbed both thumbs in circles, pushing into the bundles of nerves just beneath her skin until she had to catch a cry, letting it go as no more than a whimper. And then she felt the flick of his tongue and she moved her hands to his head, sliding her fingers into his hair.

  Absolutely amazing, what he was doing with his mouth, the way his lips sucked at her there between her thighs, pulling at her flesh until the ache in the core of her body was the only thing she knew. She felt herself slipping—her back down the door, her fingers out of Jacob’s hair, her control toward an orgasm for which she wasn’t ready.

  First she wanted more of what he was making her feel; she’d felt nothing this intoxicating in years, if ever. She’d lost her spine, her strength, lost all feeling but for the sex. Lost all awareness but for knowing it was Jacob giving her this bliss. Jacob, whom she wasn’t even sure she liked, doing things with his tongue about which she’d only dreamed.

  Licking and lapping and—oh, yes, yes—pushing into her, pulling out—oh, again, please again—eating her so thoroughly she wondered if she would ever get enough, knowing she might never have this again because this was all about a fling. All about the moment. All a part of the tension that had been keeping the air charged between them.

  But the reminder fell on ears that no longer worked because she was a total morass of physical sensation, a sexual creature taking pleasure and forgoing thought. Engaging fully in the sort of behavior she’d prided herself on rising above. Right now she wanted to sink as low as she could go.

  Jacob made it easy and beautiful, made her crazy with the way he used his fingers to stroke her, following with his tongue, opening her up to his attentions and humming his encouragement into her sex. He pushed two fingers inside of her, drew on her clit with a suction that was torturously slow and intense. Again and again. Fingering her. Sucking on her.

  It was too much all at once, and she came. Shuddering, quivering. The spasms seemed never to stop, what with Jacob knowing exactly how to ease her beyond the first initial flash into the long lingering tremors that she thought would never end. Inevitably, they did, and when the end came she wanted to collapse onto the floor. She had absolutely no idea what had just happened.

  She only knew she wanted more. More of what Jacob had given her. And more of Jacob. She started to reach for her shorts, but he lifted her foot and pulled both her shorts and panties off her ankle. Then he got to his feet, his body heavy where he leaned into hers, chest to chest, belly to belly.

  She closed her eyes, wanting to lie beneath him, to bear his weight, to take him into her body. Her hands again found their way to his waistband; she dipped her fingers beneath to his belly, where his fly remained open. Her heart thudded in wild anticipation. She’d come like she’d never come
before, yet still arousal ran through her veins.

  Moving her fingertips slowly from his hipbones toward the erection that filled out the front of his white Calvin Kleins, she opened her eyes, looking straight up into his, which flashed with a heat that raised her temperature by immeasurable degrees. She nudged her hands closer together, closer to his penis, and then she was there, the sides of her index fingers in contact with skin so amazingly soft for covering an erection so amazingly hard.

  She took her time, stroking her fingers up and down the side of his cock’s head. He let out a long hissing breath, a sharp staccato curse, a deep rumbling growl that sent a shiver to settle at the base of her spine.

  And then he took both of her hands in his and pulled them from his shorts before he grinned like the cocky bastard he was and said, “My turn.”

  6

  JACOB SWORE HE’D HUNT down anyone who dared knock on the door and interrupt.

  He didn’t have the patience to deal with bullshit. He barely had the patience to get Melanie across the room. Getting inside her sweet body was already taking way too long.

  Forget bothering with kisses and foreplay and pretty pillow talk. Later. They’d get to all of that later. Right now his mind was in sync with his body and they shared but one goal.

  He kicked out of his shorts and boxers, turned and dropped into the overstuffed easy chair in the corner of the room. Melanie climbed onto his lap, her knees hugging his hips. She raised up as if to settle down and take him inside.

  It was all he could do to stop her. “Wait.”

  “What?” she whispered hoarsely, sitting back on his knees.

  “Grab my shorts. I need a condom.”

  She did, coloring slightly as if embarrassed that she’d been so carried away.

  But when he started to tear open the packet, she boldly took it from his hands, freeing him up to strip off her top, take hold of her rib cage and scrape his thumbs back and forth over her nipples.

  He leaned forward, took one pebbled peak between his lips and sucked until she whimpered and pushed him away.

  “You’re distracting me.”

  “No. You’re distracting me.” He moved to the other breast, flicked his tongue over the other nipple. She shuddered there in his lap and made him a very happy man. “I love your tits. They’re so soft. So sensitive.”

  She snorted. “I thought bigger was better.”

  He grinned against her skin, loving the softness against his, which was much rougher due to his fast-growing beard. “Size only matters when it comes to a man and his cock.”

  “So say men, anyway.”

  “Now, sweetheart. That’s just jock talk.” He leaned back in the chair, invited her to cover him up. Watching her slender fingers work their way over and around the head of his cock was torture, visually, tactilely.

  Waiting until she was ready again was going to be damn hard. He’d be lucky not to come there in her hand, which held him so right. “We know it’s all about using what we’ve got.”

  She kept her lips pressed together while rolling the condom to the base of his shaft.

  “What? You don’t believe me?” he asked, and her lips moved in what he thought was a smile, though one that seemed directed inward rather than in response to his teasing comment.

  And then she raised up on both knees, scooted closer to his hips and took him fully into her hand. “Oh, I believe you. I’m just afraid that if you use this even half as well as you use your mouth then we’re going to be seeing more of each other than either of us planned.”

  “If you can live with that, I’m good to go.” And then, because waiting any longer wasn’t an option, he surged upward, driving himself into her body in one smooth thrust before he collapsed on his back.

  She gasped. He stopped. She sat back with her hands on her thighs, blew out several short, panting breaths before she shuddered and groaned. He didn’t know if he’d hurt her; hell, he wasn’t that much bigger than average.

  But something here was definitely not right. This was way beyond anything he knew about the way a woman enjoyed sex. “Melanie? Are you okay?”

  She closed her eyes, shook her head, gave a derisive-sounding snort that started to piss him off until she said, “You have no idea how good you feel.”

  Oh, well, that he could handle. Not to mention relate to. He chuckled, and then groaned because she moved, leaning forward and bracing her hands on his shoulders. Sitting as he was, the move put her breasts right at his mouth level where they belonged.

  “You’re laughing?” she asked.

  “No, sweetheart. I’m enjoying. I don’t think you know exactly how tight you are. How hot.” She lifted her hips and he hissed. He retaliated by nipping at the firm flesh of one breast, pulling on one nipple until she whimpered. “Crap, Melanie. You keep that up, I’m not going to be much good down here.”

  “Keep what up? This?” She lifted her hips until only the head of his cock remained inside her, then sank back down slowly, burying him to the hilt, rotating her hips in an amazing figure eight as she repeated the entire process.

  “Yeah. That. Mel, stop. Stop.” She did and he ground his teeth until he thought his jaw would break. Sweat pooled at the small of his back. “The way you sound. Those noises you make. That thing you do with your hips. I think I’m about to die.”

  “Die in a good way, I hope.” Leaning back into the palms she’d braced behind her on his knees, she tilted her pelvis upward, the motion putting everything right where he could get an eyeful when he looked down.

  Her pussy spread open by his cock, her clit exposed there beneath the line of dark hair above her beautifully naked lips. Bare lips, so delicately soft. Her sex glistening with her juices, which he knew tasted like warm saltwater and sweet peaches.

  Seeing himself there where he entered her, his cock thick and red, her sex a pale pink, the condom slick with the fluid of her arousal…he groaned and pushed upward, as far as their position would allow. He wanted more, wanted it harder. But she wasn’t finished making him wait.

  Using nothing but her knees at his hips and the muscles of her abdomen to hold her body still, she brought her hands to her stomach and slid her palms down over her belly. She didn’t stop, even when her fingertips reached her mound, but went lower, pulling back on the hood of her clit, circling her entrance as he filled her.

  He died a little more when her touch grazed the sides of his cock. Died even further when she leaned forward, sucking him into her vagina, and pressed her hands to his abdomen, digging the heels of her palms into the muscles there at the base of his shaft.

  He couldn’t take it anymore. He grabbed her wrists and held her arms to her hips, driving upward, again and again. He held just as tightly to her gaze, refusing to close his eyes or look away as his orgasm rocked through him. He had to know, to see. Yes!

  She followed him into completion, her mouth open, her chest heaving as she labored to breathe. Shudders swept through her body, swept through his; he felt the contractions of her climax and pumped harder, rubbing her clit with every thrust of his cock.

  Finally spent, she had a series of quick tremors. He slowed, making sure she slowed with him. Her silent nod gave him permission to pull away. He exhaled, unbelievably sated. And sleepy.

  He sat there for a long moment, sprawled naked while she backed off his lap and out of the chair. He continued to sit and watch while she found her clothes scattered across the carpet from the doorway.

  She dressed without looking at him, and his lethargy faded. He didn’t want her to feel bad about anything they’d just done. He wanted her to feel good. And he wanted her to feel more. He wasn’t halfway finished with having her.

  He pushed himself to his feet, disposed of the condom in the room’s attached bathroom, walked back into the bedroom buck naked just in time to see Melanie slip her feet into her shoes. He didn’t even stop to pick up his clothes. He headed straight for her, hooked an elbow around her neck and forced her head up. Her eyes
were doe-wide and doe-bright, and she gasped.

  “You scare me,” she said, but that was all she got out before he brought his mouth down on hers. He slanted one way, brushing his lips lightly at first, then with the pressure he’d been holding back. Her responsive nature made it hard to go slow.

  But this time her response was to pull away, to step back from his embrace, grab up her purse and the bag with her bathing suit. “I really need to go.”

  “Go? Where?” What the hell? He frowned, bending down to grab his shorts and drawers and pull them both on. “You’re leaving? Just like that?”

  She kept her gaze averted and headed for the bedroom door, digging in her bag for her car keys. “I’ve just…got to get home. I’ve got to go.”

  He fastened his shorts, tossed his trunks back into his duffel and pulled on his T-shirt. This wasn’t happening. He didn’t believe this was happening. That she was running out after what they’d done here in this room, after having the sort of sex they’d just had.

  Sex she’d been into just as much as he had, goddammit.

  He was not going to start feeling guilty over…He didn’t even know where the idea of guilt was coming from. It wasn’t as if he was at fault here for whatever she was accusing him of. If she was accusing him of anything.

  He didn’t know what was going through her head. He only knew he wasn’t going to let her get away without making things right.

  Or not.

  She was halfway through the door and obviously in no mood to talk. She hadn’t even looked back once. She’d just gotten up and dressed and the hell out of Dodge. Fine, he mused with more than a touch of irritation. He zipped up his duffel, stuffed his feet into his sandals and followed.

  He’d just take Dodge to her.

  JACOB PULLED HIS TRUCK away from the curb and in behind Melanie’s sparkling black Infiniti Coupe. He was not about to let her pretend nothing had happened between them—even if what had happened between them was nothing but sex.