Текст книги "Long Shot"

Автор книги: Hanna Martine

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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 20 страниц)

“Thanks for the warning.” He was laughing, but his hand found her face, searching.

He must have mistaken her squirming for discomfort, because he tried to shift his weight off her, but she wrapped one leg and one arm around him. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not.” He hooked his hands under her arms and pushed her farther up the couch, moving her as easily as a pillow. Pausing, testing the leather with his palms, he frowned at the long, low couch with no sides or back. “What is this thing?”

“I have no idea. A really big ottoman? Leith, I don’t care.”

He pushed up on his elbows and angled his head so he could look at the thing under the city lights streaming in. “No sides. Close to the floor. I could get you in just about any position on this thing. And you, me. Jesus, Jen, it’s a sex couch, is what it is.”

She laughed. “It is not!”

He fell back on top of her, sweeping his tongue into her mouth and setting her on fire. “It is now.”

“We’ve got all night to use it.”

At that, he rose above her, huge and glorious in the city glow, his hair mussed. He didn’t reach for her, just touched her with that eleven-ton stare.

“Yes,” he said. “We do.”

A few long, agonizing seconds later, he reached down and toyed with the hem of her dress, flipping back the flap to expose her parted thighs. He fingered the outer tie of the dress and set it free with a tug, then he released the inner clasp that held the whole thing together. With a gentle sweep, he opened the dress and bared her. She lay there, loving it.

He opened his mouth, took a short breath. Yeah, he wanted to say something, and it was troubling him, because his eyebrows pinched together and the finger running painfully slowly back and forth across the tendon in her upper thigh paused.

She refused to let him stop. She dug in her heels and arched her back, thrusting herself up into his touch. He caught his breath, shook his head as though coming back into himself.

His gaze wandered a path up her body. “God, you’re sexy.”

All she could think was: God, I’ve missed you. I was such a fool to let you go.

Where had that come from? It wasn’t like she’d been sitting here in her apartment, pining for him these ten years and moaning, If only, if only. Except . . . she’d missed him. There’d been a hole in her life where he belonged, and she’d been stepping over and around it for so long that she’d completely forgotten how that negative space affected her life.

She needed to be naked. With him. She hooked thumbs under the straps of her thong and started to push it down, but his big hands clamped over hers, slowly plucking her fingers off.

“I’m going as fast as I want to,” he murmured.

“But—”

She struggled, but even in his light grasp, she couldn’t move her hands from the couch.

“Stop thinking,” he said. “Stop trying to direct. Just . . . let me. Please.”

Those were the last of his words. He dragged her underwear down her legs with one stroke, and then he was staring down at her spread legs with an open mouth and the return of that grave, passionate expression. He pulled off her high heels without looking away from the place she could feel getting more and more slippery by the second.

Quick as a flash, he shimmied backward off the couch to kneel at its edge, simultaneously dragging her with him. He pushed her legs apart. The angle was perfect, the position heavenly. Through her legs, he gave her the king of wicked looks, and they shared an unspoken moment. He licked his lips.

Long ago, they’d taken each other’s virginity, green and fumbling but still exciting. Many men had gone down on her since then, and without a doubt Leith had done it to other women, but it was new to the two of them and there were simply no words to describe this excitement, heightened by maturity and history and the blaze of emotions that roared through her.

He bent his head, his eyes the very last thing to turn down. And then his mouth was on her. A wet, open kiss that sucked in her clit and swirled it with his tongue at the same time. She bowed off the couch, just her shoulders and heels digging into the black leather. Her loud, surprised, fantastically aroused shout filled her apartment and bounced from wall to wall.

Good Lord, the man knew how to use his mouth for something other than just grinning and flirting. His arms slid under and around her thighs, his fingers digging into their upper crease. He clasped her to him, held her in place, and feasted. In between the sparkly bits of pleasure he fed her, she could sense his greed and also how he restrained himself. The sounds he was making, those tiny groans in the back of his throat—fuck—they were the most erotic thing she’d ever heard.

And she was doing that to him.

He pulled everything from her. The orgasm was coming fast, faster than she’d ever experienced, and she didn’t know why it was scaring her so much, why it was making her panic. But she was shaking already, and he hadn’t even made her come yet.

“You . . . can . . . stop,” she stuttered, frantically grabbing for his head. Handy, that hair now.

He shook his head, refusing, and the motion had his lips and tongue hitting all sorts of new spots, striking new chords.

He put two fingers inside her. Just slid them in, no resistance, all soft and surrounding and beyond sensitized. Absolutely ready. She’d never been so aware of herself before, and yet completely out of her own head. Usually she went into things like this with scenarios and fantasies at the ready, just in case things didn’t go like she wanted. Just in case she needed a little mental push.

Stop thinking, he’d told her. And because he was doing such an amazing job of convincing her, she did.

Suddenly he hit the perfect spot deep inside. A secret, magnificent, hidden place that she suspected all her other partners had never reached because she’d been so intent on steering them to her clit. Involuntarily, her legs clenched around his neck. He breathed harshly through his nose. The pressure from his fingers and tongue increased, turning much harder than she ever thought she’d like. But she did.

She loved it.

Tremors catapulted through her. There was no stopping them, no barricades they couldn’t break through. All sorts of nerves and wirings and emotions were strung up to where his tongue circled and his lips sucked and his fingers stroked. She went stupid in the head and limp of body. Even when her orgasm finally crested, shaking her entire body like a leaf, pushing high, short gasps and cries up and out of her lungs, he never let up. Not until her body had calmed and her legs released his neck.

He lifted his head. Smiling, he breathed almost as hard as she did. “See?” He touched his shiny lips. “A sex couch.”

She came up on her weak elbows, then reached out to tousle a wave of hair that had flopped over his forehead.

He gazed back at her quizzically, the pattern of city lights making him look exceptionally mysterious and sexy. “You actually wanted me to stop? Before you came?”

She didn’t respond, because he already knew what she would say.

“Scared of not being in control?” The question wasn’t accusatory or frustrated.

He pulled her up to sit. Sliding his arms under the dress that still dangled from her shoulders, he held her like a fragile thing.

“It’s okay,” he whispered into her neck. “I get you.”

The strangest sensation filled her head, and she realized too late it was impending tears. She tried to turn her head away but he caught her mouth with his, and the feeling of being vanquished died with his taste and trust and understanding.

When he pulled back, he stared at her in a most incredible way, like she was The Answer. His massive erection grazed her inner thigh. She could definitely take care of that. Slowly, she peeled off the rest of the dress and then unhooked her bra. Naked, her chest rose and fell, but he looked only at her face.

“Protection?” he asked.

She nodded. “Condoms. In the drawer by the bed.”

She started to rise, meaning to head for the darkened bedroom, but he rocked to his feet with ridiculous power and told her, “I’ll get them.”

Them?

With a half smile and a jerk of his head toward the jagged city vista, he added, “When I come back, I’d really like to see you standing against that window.”

As he turned for her bedroom, he unbuttoned and stripped off his shirt, the muscles in his back doing acrobatics underneath his skin. The V created by his wide shoulders and waist made her legs quiver all over again.

And because he’d proved to her that control wasn’t always necessary for pleasure, she went over and stood by the window.

Chapter

16

Naked from the waist up, his jeans already unzipped, Leith hurried back to the living room from the bedroom, box of condoms in hand. One thought alone played on exuberant repeat in his mind: I’m about to have sex with Jen Haverhurst.

When he came out of the hall, he thought he knew what to expect. After all, he’d been the one to tell Jen he wanted her up against the window. But the truth was, no amount of preparation or fantasizing could have set him up well enough for the actual sight. Jen’s curved silhouette cut an erotic shape against the rectangles of the city lights. Her hair swung at her shoulders and she stood with her legs apart, far enough that he could trace the lines of her inner thighs all the way up to the place he most wanted to be. Though he couldn’t see her face in the shadows, he knew the moment she saw him, because she raised her arms and flattened her palms against the glass.

“Jesus Christ,” he mumbled, hoping Da’s ghost would forgive him for such a curse in these circumstances. “Look at you.”

He sauntered toward her, forgetting he’d been in a rush only a minute ago. As he got closer, the city lights let him see her wide-eyed, openmouthed expression. The look of expectation and anticipation. Of lust. She breathed deep and even, her nipples rising and falling, the shadows shifting across her chest.

When he finally touched her, it was to take her cheek in his palm. There were too many words to say, so he kissed her. It was a slow, deliberate stroke of his mouth over hers. Her lips were so smooth and soft, and even though they’d kissed countless times in their lives, even though he’d just gone down on her for the very first time and had made her come in a way that still left him happy and dizzy, this kiss felt much, much different.

He inched closer. Close enough that her nipples grazed his bare chest. Just a brush, a tease, but it sent waves of sensation over his skin. God, she was so, so soft. She leaned back against the window, her warm hands sliding around his waist and dipping into the back of his loosened jeans, curving around his ass. Slowly, she pushed his jeans to the floor and the sound of the denim hitting the parquet heightened the kiss. The air-conditioning felt wonderful on his hot skin, but the cotton of his underwear weighed heavy as chain mail. When her fingers slipped beneath the top elastic, he sighed. When she shoved the underwear down to his ankles, he groaned.

With a long swipe of her tongue against his, she released his mouth from the kiss and trailed a slow, hot gaze down his bare body to his erection.

Stepping out of his jeans, he said, “Touch me.”

Her lips quirked at the order because she was already halfway there. She wrapped her fingers around his dick—sweet, sweet girl—pushed them all the way to the root—holy fucking God—and gave an agonizingly slow, gentle pull all the way to the tip—whatever you do, just keep doing that. Just like that.

Darkness fell as he shut his eyes and concentrated on the way she stroked him, how she managed to build his need when he hadn’t thought it could go any higher. He’d gone willfully blind, every stroke of her hand a torture. Her mouth found his chest, and he could feel her smiling against his skin.

He wasn’t smiling, though. Hard, short breaths left his open lips. He had one fist planted on the glass, his forehead grinding into the curl of his fingers. At last he pushed away from the glass and encircled the wrist of her stroking hand. “Enough.”

She stopped. He saw the little vibration of her pulse, the live beat dancing in her throat.

“I want in you,” he said.

Without words, she slipped the box of condoms from his hand and took one out. Ripped open the packet. She lifted her face to him as if to question what they were about to do, just as she’d done all those years ago in the back of the Caddy. As if this were their first time or something.

It was, actually. It was their first time as the people they were now.

He thought about all she’d revealed to him earlier that evening and kicked himself over how his eighteen-year-old self should have guessed there was more beneath her surface. He cringed at how cock-blind he’d been. How he could have been helping her instead of trying to get in her pants all the time, and then getting pissed off that she left him.

He thought about how he’d done such a bang-up job at convincing himself he was steady and fulfilled these past three years, but how sad and alone he truly felt, thinking himself abandoned by the two people who’d meant the most to him.

He had to stop thinking like that. Like Da had died on purpose. Like Jen had been laughing as she’d gotten on that plane. Neither was true.

Though she stood gorgeously bared before him now, she’d never been as naked to him as she’d been in the lounge, her story on her lips. It made his heart hurt. After all this time, she still had the ability to do that.

She touched him again, bringing him back to the present, and a playful light came to her eyes as she rolled the condom down his cock with an efficiency and care he refused to think about.

As he slid his arms around her rib cage and lifted her up against the glass, an echo of his thought, and her words, in the lounge returned: I really did love you. And if I’m not careful it’ll happen again.

Her legs folded around his waist, heels on his ass. Her narrow arms wrapped around his neck and he found her mouth again, holding her with shaking thighs in that position.

The tip of his cock nudged against her, and even that part of her felt different and exciting to him. A whole new woman, a whole new experience. She was trying to grind against him, trying to get him inside, but the position restricted her movement.

“Wait,” he said against her lips. “Let me.”

“Hurry,” he thought he heard her say, the word shredded.

He flexed his arms and pushed back slightly, holding her body away from him. Together they looked down as he positioned her over his cock. Just the tip of him went in, a wet, tight pressure covering his most sensitive place. At the same time, their heads snapped up and they looked at one another. This moment was only the beginning of the most powerful physical and emotional connection in existence, and he was already lost.

Bending his legs and leaning her back against the glass, he got better leverage. He pushed in a little more, watched himself slip inside. He refused to let his eyes close. He wasn’t missing a millisecond of this. He drank in her gasp as he slid in even further. He watched with awe the dilating of her pupils, the string of staccato, musical moans that punctuated each of his thrusts, until he was fully inside her.

She was everywhere, all around him. Her body surrounded his cock like a beautiful glove, her sounds filled his mind, and her being encased his heart.

“Leith,” she said, shuddering, and there was too much to decipher in that word. A plea, a prayer, an expression of disbelief.

At last he got his bearings, found his strength. Muscles clenched, he started to move, a gentle pulse inside her. He wasn’t capable of much more. Not in that position. Not with the way his chest felt like it was about to explode. He used the slow, clutching pump as long as possible, until it just simply wasn’t enough.

“I want . . . I need more. I need to move faster,” he whispered into her hair. “Can I get you back on the couch?”

Wordless, she nodded and his fingers dug into her thighs, pulling her off him to the soundtrack of their mutual groans. He lowered her to the ground, and he was filled with a caveman satisfaction that she wove on her feet, and that her nails clawed into his arms to steady herself.

He kissed the dreamy look on her face and slowly nudged her toward the low couch. She sat on its edge.

“Scoot back,” he said. “This time I’m getting on with you.”

“And getting on me?”

That unselfconscious giggle of hers sent him over the edge. What edge that was, he wasn’t quite sure. All he knew was that she had all her weapons trained on him that night and he was going down, down, down.

“And getting in you.” He prowled over her, pressing her body into the black leather. She lay down, arched her back and opened her legs. Jen, splayed out for him. No chance of Olsen showing up this time. This woman was all Leith’s.

He wedged his knees between hers, spreading her out, his cock pounding with need between them, dying to get back in where it belonged. As he came down over her, he loved the way she sighed against his weight. He kissed her as he entered her again. He slid into her far too easily, and with so much power it shocked him. Instead of taking her sounds between his lips, he fed her his own—a long, low groan as she took him even deeper inside. A murmured curse as she tilted up her hips and wrapped her legs around him, one of her hands digging into his hair, the other scratching at his ass.

He fucked her with the depth of everything he felt. And yeah, even though his forehead was pressed against hers, their eyes locked in a dizzy haze, this was fucking. Fucking at its finest, its most intense.

Pleasure immediately raced for his groin. All sensation from every available nerve rushed to the center of his body, his world. That feeling built and grew, driving him deeper and harder into Jen. He was losing control, but he wanted this to last a hell of a lot longer than he feared it would. He’d bragged that he wasn’t eighteen anymore, and he wanted to be inside her as long as possible, but the feeling of her wrapped around him was making that nearly impossible. Every stroke chiseled away at what he’d always considered to be spectacular control.

His head sagged to her neck as his hips did their thing, steered by the need for her, piloted by the emotions he never expected to feel again.

Her name unintentionally leaked from his mouth. He felt her palm on his neck, touching him with a gentleness that almost hurt. Lifting his head, still plunging into her with long, heavy movements, he watched the flicker of recognizable emotion in her eyes. She was struggling with the same things he was.

Withdrawing from her with a moan, he pushed back to his knees. She was reaching for him, trying to guide him back to where he’d been, but he loved taking her out of her control zone, and instead took her knees in the crooks of his elbows. Hoisting her hips off the couch, he penetrated her at a whole new angle that shot his eyeballs straight to the back of his head.

Then it was her turn to say his name, a million times, one after the other, at the peak of every one of his thrusts. She felt amazing. She looked amazing—small underneath him, her arms flung out and clinging to the edges of the couch.

He couldn’t hold back any longer. Couldn’t temper himself. His body just let go, and his crazy, Jen-addled brain lost what little control it had managed to cling to.

He came, the orgasm spiraling like a cyclone through his body. Everything tightened. Ten years’ worth of desire that he hadn’t known was building up inside all released at once. It was goddamn heaven. Nothing else to it.

Two minutes later his brain still hadn’t come back to reality after being short-circuited. His whole body still tingled. Finally he realized he’d collapsed on top of her and she’d wrapped her limbs around him, the crush of her embrace nothing short of possessive. They stayed that way, entwined, for who knows how long.

“Wow,” she whispered. “I loved watching that.”

A wave of emotion crashed into him, took him under.

With a regretful wince, he pulled out of her and rolled to the edge of the couch. He tied off the condom and padded to the bathroom to get rid of it. When he came back, she was lying in the exact same position, legs and arms all loose and lovely, only her head had turned and she looked out at her city.

He stretched out naked beside her, the leather sticking to his damp skin, and draped an arm over her belly. She rolled her head back to meet his eyes.

“You didn’t come again,” he said, unable to keep the disappointment out of his voice. He knew very well what she felt like when she came, how her muscles got all tight inside, and how her whole body set off in a cascading series of quivers from head to toe. “My fault? Too fast?”

She gave a little shrug and ran light fingers across his collarbone. “I’ve turned into a clit girl. Doesn’t mean I didn’t love it.”

He narrowed his eyes and gave her a doubtful grin. “I don’t believe that.”

She laughed once, loud and sharp. “Well, believe it. I think I know what I need.”

“You didn’t used to be like that.”

“People change. People’s bodies change.”

He considered her as he widened his smile. “No, I think that’s the control talking. For some reason you turned your mind off to anything else. You think you’re only a clit girl, therefore you are.” When he scraped a nail over her firm nipple, she hissed, her pupils dilating all over again. “I want to try to get that back. Can I? Please? With a little practice, I’m sure I could do it again.”

She pushed at his chest in a feeble, adorable attempt to act pissed off. It would have helped if she wasn’t smiling. “Oh, really? We haven’t been together in ten years and you’re an expert on my body?”

His palm made a slow trail down her belly. Her far knee came up, cradling the heel of his hand as it pressed against her pubic bone. He loved this part of her, how it surpassed the softness anywhere else on her body. As he touched her where she was still slippery, she went still.

“I am.” He nosed the dark hair from her neck and said into her skin, “Remember that night when I taught you how to come? When I just kept touching you here and you exploded in the back of my da’s Cadillac?”

She let out a sound that was part indignant, part disgust, and a whole lot of remembered ecstasy. “You did not teach me that.”

“Sure I did.”

“I was doing just fine on my own, thanks.”

“Exactly. It was just a solo effort. But it’s better when someone else does it for you, isn’t it?”

“It is.” She swallowed, and he licked up her moving throat. “And you’ve gotten even better at it.”

“Well, I’ve learned a few new tricks.”

She edged away, and he removed his hand from between her legs.

“I don’t know how I feel hearing that,” she said.

He shrugged and took to lightly rubbing her arm. “Sure you do. It’s probably the exact same way I feel. Let me see if I get it right: You and I were each other’s first sex all those years ago, and it was cool and exciting, but in that awkward teenage way. We got a little better at it and we thought it was the bomb. All that intense exploration that opened up a whole new world. Then we weren’t together anymore and we slept with other people”—she winced—“and we learned what we like and how to please another person. Jen, I don’t like knowing you’ve been with others either, but guess what, neither of us can change that. I can’t get pissed about what’s happened before this, not when it was never something I could control.” Then he kissed her soundly and grinned. “I can only enjoy the benefits of a fine education.”

She looked a little stunned at that, considering, then she nodded in the way that reminded him of when her spreadsheets all balanced up and her crazy world suddenly made sense.

“So.” He ran a hand through his hair as silence settled between them. “You never answered me back in the bar. You just jumped me. It was so embarrassing.”

She looked at him like she honestly had no idea what question he was talking about. It made his throat dry up, and not in a good way. No turning back now, though. “Are we going to try this again?” he asked. “You and me?”

The gentle movement of her hand on his chest paused. She rose up on one elbow so they were eye to eye. She looked terribly worried, like she’d already made up her mind to leave him here and now. Like it was ten years ago and they were on another picnic blanket. Then she kissed him, close-lipped but sweet and long. That hadn’t happened a decade ago, and it sent his mind spinning toward hope.

“How?” she asked when she pulled away, and she looked genuinely confused. “How could we make that work?”

Tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, he replied, “We try.”

“All right, then,” she said seriously, and something sharp and sweet struck him in the heart. “We try.”