Fade To Midnight (17 page)

Each driving, explosive pulse of pleasure knocked her further from what she thought of as herself, into someplace new, someplace soft and wild. And wonderfully real.

When she surfaced from the aftershocks, he still held her, his arm rock hard against her belly, his erection pressed against her backside.

Her jeans had slid almost off her ass. His gold skin deepened in tone to the darker brown on his forearm, startling against the pallor of her naked belly. The stripes from the sunlight were fading, almost gone, and the swirling rainbows along with them. The warm tiger stripes of sunset color that had painted them had been fleeting.

Like everything beautiful, this would be fleeting, too. She knew it for a fact. She had to seize it, get what she could get from it.

Her love affairs were invariably short-lived. Either the guy got scared off by the doomsaying radio receiver in her head, or freaked out by the financial and personal background checks, or intimidated by the relentless shadowing of the Parrish bodyguards. Or whatever. There was always something. Usually several somethings.

If she wanted some of this, she had to grab it. Full on, before problems had a chance to start. This guy walked straight out of her fantasy, and she was going to jump on him, and enjoy the hell out of him. Before the fantasy had to end. Because it would. Oh, yes, it would.

The anger that accompanied that thought set her spinning around, yanking for his belt buckle.

“Hey,” he said gently. “No hurry.”

“I say there is.” Her voice was low, shaking. She wrenched his pants down over his hips. His penis sprang up like it was spring loaded.

Whoa. She stared down at him, taken aback. He was so big. Thick, long, blunt, red. Ready for action. She hadn't bargained for…well, this. Whew. Her dreams tended to focus on crashing waves of emotion, fountaining sensations. They didn't specify the blunt details.

And this, oh, man. This was a blunt detail if there ever was one.

She wasn't even sure if he would work, for her. In a purely mechanical sense. He certainly worked in every other way. She was so excited, she was on the verge of coming spontaneously.

She reached to touch his big, hot phallus, gasping at the contact. So solid, pulsing. He gasped and shuddered as she squeezed, the hot, velvety skin sliding, moving over the firmness of his throbbing shaft.

“Oh, God. Wait. I'll lose it,” he muttered.

“That would be OK,” she assured him. “I've lost it. Now it's your turn.” She sank to her knees. Never let it be said that she wasn't ready to do her part.

He caught her under the armpits, and yanked her up again. “No.”

She was nonplussed. “No? You don't like…that?”

He looked at her from hooded eyes as he pushed her into the tiny monk's cell of a bedroom. “Of course I do, but I can't let my head explode yet. Later for that. You, first. And we haven't had the talk yet.”

“The talk? What talk?”

“I haven't been with anyone since well before the waterfall accident, and they did bloodwork up the wazoo while I was in the hospital, so I know I'm clean. But I don't have condoms with me. That's not an item that I carry on my person.”

Oh.
That
talk. She shook herself, internally. It had been a nonissue so long, she'd forgotten the drill. “I'm fine, STD wise,” she said. “And I might have some condoms. It's been so long, I can't be sure, but let me just…hold on.” She yanked open her top drawer, rummaging in her underwear, and found the unopened three pack, left over from her affair with Eric. She brandished them. “They're ancient, though.”

“If they haven't been exposed to light or heat, they should be OK.”

“They've been languishing in the dark with only my panties for company,” she said, ripping the foil. “Let me get one of these on you.”

He slid his arms around her, nuzzling her ear. “Hey. Slow down.”

He was trying to soothe her, but she wasn't soothable. “I don't want to slow down,” she snapped. “I want to get on with it.”

“I don't want to rush it,” he replied. “I want to do it right.”

Too bad, buddy. She was helpless to communicate her urgency to him without seeming crazy and desperate. She was probably well into crazy and desperate territory already. But if she didn't push this, it would slip away from her, fizzle out, or just vanish into thin air.

And she had to have this. Had. To.

She shook the condom out, relieved to see that it looked normal. She grasped his cock again, loving the way her fingers barely closed around that broad shaft, and tried to apply the condom, but the rolled latex ring wouldn't stretch around the bulb of his penis. Damn slippery thing kept snapping off, rolling back up. Finally, he pinched the condom out of her hand, and rolled it on himself, with casual grace. He lifted her hands to his lips, kissing the backs of her fingers.

She thudded her butt down onto the low single futon bed, yanking him toward her. “Get over here.” Her voice shook. On the verge of tears. Crap. Guys hated that. It could be a deal breaker, too.

She fought it, tried to keep it together, but her breath hitched, sharp and audible. She dug in her nails and dragged him closer.

He sank obediently to his knees in front of the bed, pulling her so her bottom was perched on the edge of the futon, and embraced her.

They were forehead to forehead, her thighs splayed wide. He held his cock in his fist and petted her with it, tender strokes up and down her slick divide, each brush of contact as sweet and specific as a kiss.

The tension built, a maddening roar in her ears. She dug her fingers into his muscular ass and pulled him closer, wiggling for the angle that would lodge him inside her. Definitively. No escape for him.

“Please,” she whispered, almost incoherently. “Please.”

“Oh, yeah.” His voice shook, too. She wasn't the only one who was falling apart. He began to press inside—

Her lungs stopped working. Oh. Sweet. God. He was huge.

She gripped his upper arms, clamped down on the sounds about to escape from her throat. She didn't want to scare him away.

He shifted back, pulling out of her. “No,” he muttered.

“No?” She jerked forward and yanked on him, with furious energy. “What do you mean, no?”

He grabbed her clutching hands, kissed one. “I mean, not yet.”

“I'm ready now,” she informed him. “I'm falling to pieces.
Now!
”

He slid his finger inside her, caressing her where his cock had been, his lips moving against her forehead. “You're small,” he said. “Too tight. Wait. I'll make it better for you.”

Like hell! Wait? No! She was sick to death of waiting. She'd been waiting her whole damn life. She didn't know what for, or if she'd even know it when she saw it. “It's good now!” she insisted. “It's fine! It's never been this good for me! It'll kill me if it's better than this!”

He pried the clenched claws of her hands off his upper arms, and kissed them tenderly, held her wrists as she wrenched at them.

“I'll make it better,” he said. “And it won't kill you. Trust me.”

Arrogant
bastard.
The command in his voice made something inside her snap. She wrenched her arms free. “Trust you? How dare you jerk me around like this? I am sick of it!” She shoved at his chest.

He swayed backward. “I'm sorry you feel that way,” he said.

“You think because you're the one with the dick, that means you're in charge? Just because you're the man?” She swatted at him, flailing wildly. “You think that makes you boss? Fuck you, Kev!”

“Oh, yes. I will fuck you. Count on it.” He grabbed her arms again, held them fast. “And yeah, I am the one with the dick. I decide what to do with it, and when. And I say that you…will…
wait.
”

His forceful words punched through her frantic anger and made her flinch. “Who died and made you God?” she yelled. “What was all that bullshit you talked about throwing me down on the nearest horizontal surface and fucking me hard? Brave words, huh?”

“I meant it,” he said. “But that was before I felt you come all over my hand. I got off on that. That was excellent.”

She was startled into speechlessness. She licked her lips, hypnotized by his eyes, his delving hand. Fingerfucking her, with skillful, demanding strokes that made her hips jerk against him.

“Now I'm strung out on it,” he went on, his voice a caressing rumble that dragged over her nerve endings. “I found the strength to delay gratification. Thank God.”

She was embarrassed to realize that her anger was gone. She couldn't form words yet with her trembling mouth. He pressed a coaxing kiss against her lips. Slipped his tongue inside, exploring while his fingers thrust, deep enough to make her gasp, writhe, mewl. While his thumb caressed her clit. Getting it just…exactly…
right.

“I don't just want to shove it into you,” he whispered. “I want you to love it. I want you to come and come. Until the neighbors are banging the walls, begging you to stop, so they can hear their TVs again.”

That made her shake with a burst of teary laughter. “I am not a screamer,” she informed him. “So don't get your hopes up.”

He looked skeptical. “You were screaming just now. At me.”

She bristled. “Oh, bullshit! That was different!”

“Yeah? Was it?” His grin flashed. Wow, he was smooth. He'd wrangled her right through her little freak-out, with such grace and skill, she hadn't had a chance. She must be so transparent.

“You don't understand.” Her voice wobbled perilously. “I can't just take this easy, like you want me to. I have to seize the moment.”

“Don't worry,” he urged. “You'll seize lots of moments. Hours of moments. I won't let anyone take them from you.”

He pushed her down until she was flat on her back. She glanced up at the crystals that still spun above her in the window. The light trapped in their depths swirled and glittered in her tear-blurred eyes. He kissed her chest. Dropped seductive kisses, trailing lower, and lower. She sensed where he was going, panicked, and started to struggle up onto her elbows again. “Um, hold on. Wait. I can't…I can't—”

“You will.” His voice was steely. “Relax, for one goddamn second, Edie. Let me make this good for you.”

His lord-of-the-manor tone pissed her off again. “I told you how to make it good for me!” she snapped. “By getting the fuck on with it!”

“I can't. You're too small. I don't want to hurt you.” His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Are you into pain?”

She was taken aback. “God, no. I avoid pain whenever possible.”

“Good.” He pushed her legs wide. “Because if you were, you'd have to find some other guy to…”

His voice trailed off. She jerked up, to see what he was looking at. He was staring down between her legs, rapt. His eyes so bright, she could feel his gaze, like a touch. His intense regard was a sweet lick of delicious heat. “Ah,” he whispered. “God. I take that back.”

Oh, please. It was just her normal, furry muff. He didn't need to carry on about it like it was something celestial. She reached down, grabbed a handful of his hair. “What? You take back what?”

“No other man touches this.” He fitted his hands around her vulva, cupping it, caressing it. “Just me. This is mine. All…mine.”

Raw possessiveness roughened in his voice. She squirmed as he slid his thumbs over her slick folds, spreading them apart. Staring at her. Every tiny, quivering detail of her. Like he wanted to devour her.

“I, ah…” She coughed, cleared her throat. “That's a very intense sentiment to express after…how long have we known each other?”

“Very intense,” he agreed. “So's this.” He leaned down, dragging the tip of his tongue up her slit, sliding through her folds, swirling it up and around the taut nub of her quivering clit, suckling. “Your pussy is so beautiful. I want it. It's mine.”

His voice vibrated against her sensitive bits, making her giggle and snort. “Oh, please. Pussy? That's such a silly word for it. Oh, my God, that…that tickles. That's…oh, God, that's amazing.”

His eyes crinkled over the dark puff of her pubic hair. “I like that word,” he said, pausing to flutter his tongue across her clit, a delicate trill that sent shudders of pleasure through her. “It's the best word. The other words sound too harsh to me. Pussy is softer. Lighthearted.”

She gasped with pleasure as his tongue lashed, darted, delved. “I'm…I'm not particularly soft,” she pointed out. “Or lighthearted.”

“No?” He slid his tongue inside her. “You are, too, soft. Amazingly soft. Getting softer all the time. But would you rather use a different word? I'll accommodate you. I'll use any word you want.”

He nuzzled her groin, making her shake with helpless shudders, half laughter, half breathless excitement. “Stop that,” she giggled.

“Not a chance,” he said. “As for lighthearted, hey. That can change in an instant. It did for me, the second that I met you.”

She was sobered by his intensity, and groped for something to say, reaching hopefully for the giggling vibe again. “What word do you use for your own…” She jerked her chin expressively. “You know.”

“My male member?” Her goofy semantic shyness made him grin. “I don't have much occasion to talk about my dick. I don't refer to it much. Got a preference? Lady's choice. Go wild. Be creative.”

She was bright red. “Um. Whatever is fine. We don't really have to, um, talk about it.”

“It doesn't matter a damn to him, what you call him,” he informed her, solemnly. “All he cares about is what you let him do to you.”

“Oh, yeah? What is he going to do to me? And when? Hah! After all my begging and yelling? I'll believe it when I see it, buddy.”