Fallen Angels 05 - Possession (21 page)

His free hand went between her legs.

No preamble. No sweep up a thigh or sneak downward. No I’m-going-to-touch-you-now.

He took what he wanted.

And she orgasmed.

As if he knew exactly where he’d taken her, his lips broke contact with her breast and he moved upward, retaking control of her mouth, swallowing the harsh sounds she made, muting her as he worked her sex through her jeans. And it was funny, she wasn’t worried in the slightest that someone might hear her—especially as his fingers pressed in and rubbed the hard knot of the seam against her core. If she screamed the place down? Fine. Whatever. He was helping her ride out the release even as he kept the pleasure going, and her body wanted it all—wanted everything he could give her.

He didn’t stop. With another release riding hard on the heels of her first, her nails clawed into his shoulders, and she bent her knees, opening her legs farther to give him more access—which was a good idea, but there was a problem. With her thighs as weak as they were, her balance went off-kilter—

Duke was on it. With a quick move, he picked her up like she didn’t weigh a thing.

Aloft in his arms, she had a brief, striking impression of … pure masculine power. He was built all over, as if his body had been carved, not born, the muscles clenching under his clothes and his skin as he held her off the floor. This was not Thom, a lanky, soft-bellied college boy. This was a man in his physical prime, a male who was sexually aroused and had every intention of doing something about it.

A second later, she was sprawled on the floor.

“Gotta make sure the door stays closed,” he purred against her breast.

And then he was on top of her, his weight pushing her into the linoleum, threatening to crush her—which was just all the more erotic.

As his mouth found her nipples again, she felt a tugging at her hips. Her jeans. He was attacking her zipper, then dragging the denim and her panties down her legs. Cool air hit the heat between her thighs, but that didn’t last long.

His hand went immediately back to where it had been, only this time with nothing between her slick core and his fingers. When he entered her, he recaptured her mouth, thrusting his tongue in against her as he dominated her sex down below—

Cait came even harder, biting her lip, arching up into his chest, the whirlwind both taking her out of her body and locking her in her skin as the sensations poured through her flesh.

And then there was a brief lull, when the pressure on top of her relented.

A jangling sound. His belt. He was taking off his—

“Condom,” she said hoarsely.

“Got one.”

Thank God, because she didn’t. In truth, she’d thought through so little about this. Although even if she’d sketched it out? She wouldn’t have come close to the real experience. So much hotter and more raw—

Duke reared up on his knees and gave her a shock.

He’d shoved his jeans down low on his hips and his sex was tremendous, so thick and long, standing out straight from his body.

This was going to get … even more intense.

The condom was a Trojan, and he tore off the corner of the blue square with his sharp white teeth, the foil ripping open with obliging ease. And then, as she watched him sheathe himself, she had to bite her lower lip again, especially as his blunt fingers took care of business over the heavy head and that thick shaft.

A split second later, he was on top of her again.

Cait took over from there. When she gripped him, he bore down on his teeth and cursed, his head rearing back on his neck, the cords of muscle popping out on either side.

“Jesus …” he groaned.

She felt the exact same way. Except as she guided him to her, she braced herself. It had been a long time for her, and given the way he was built?

She had no interest in stopping this, however. If anything, each level of this improbable, out-of-control hookup just incinerated her even further—and she relished the inferno precisely for its burn: in the midst of it, nothing else existed, her terror in the parking garage seared away, her weeks of worrying about Sissy obliterated, her years of loneliness and her sadness even still about Thom gone, gone, gone.

She was beyond ready for this. Had been for a while, and not in the several-hours sense.

With Duke poised to enter her, he thrust his arm underneath her shoulders and brought her face close to his. His eyes held hers—

Just before he surged forward, he looked away.

Someone like him being shy? Impossible—

Pain lanced through her, stiffening her body, snuffing out the heat in a split second. And as Duke froze, those eyes shot back to hers in something close to alarm.

“No,” she muttered. “It’s just been a while for me. Don’t you dare stop.”

To prove the point, she thrust her hands down his powerful torso to the small of his back—where she went even lower, pushing under the loose seat of his pants to his totally tight ass. Jacking her hips up and pushing him to her, she joined them properly, from tip to base, deep within her core.

The stretching, the filling, the electric shock of pleasure, it brought back the fire—and that was even before he started pumping.

Stranger or not, he was careful with her, moving slowly at first, giving her a chance to adjust. And oh, God, adjust she did. Her sex reloosened as the friction increased, that great body above her own thrusting with growing urgency, another crest building deep inside of her until he was clapping against her, holding her roughly in place … fucking her.

This was not making love. There was nothing polite about where they were now or where they were headed—and she wanted it just like this, hard, fast, brutal.

It was a shock to realize that she was having the sex of her life, right here on the floor of this bald room, in almost-public. But holy hell was it
good
.

With a jerk, she brought his mouth back to hers and he was right on it, kissing her as his hips pistoned over and over again until there was no way to keep their lips together anymore.

Breaking off, he groaned again. “You’re so tight.
Fuck
…”

His head dropped into her neck, and the idea that he was struggling to keep it together made her feel even more sexual, more liberated.

Oh, God, he smelled so good. And his hair was incredibly soft. And his beard scratched against her cheek…

In the back of her mind, she took notes on as much as she could absorb, well aware that she needed to remember each part of this, the whole thing. Because even though she was out of her mind, she wasn’t kidding herself. This was a one-time-only—and it was so totally worth—

Her third orgasm was the most powerful of the bunch, making the others seem like just warm-ups, the rhythmic pulses contracting through her, her eyes clamping shut so hard she saw stars—and he followed along with her, his erection stabbing in and kicking inside of her over and over again…

And then it was done.

So still.

They both went so still except for their breathing, which remained haggard.

In the aftermath, her body glowed from the exertion, her heart rate slowing gradually, the heat rolling out of her muscles and her skin until she began to feel the cool floor beneath her.

So good. The whole thing was exactly what she needed.

Except … as the silence began to sink into her addled brain, she thought, Now what? She had no clue how this was supposed to work—

“Duke?” a male voice said on the other side of the door. “You in there?”

Oh. Crap. Talk about a reality injection.

Her … lover, she supposed was the word for it, lifted his head and shot a glare upward. He also cranked his leg around and shoved his knee into the steel panel to make sure it wasn’t opened—and in the process, reminded her that they were still very much joined.

Dear Lord, what had she gotten herself into?

“No, I’m not,” he said in a guttural snarl.

Pause. “Duke, my man, you got someone in there with you?”

“No.”

“Because the visual and the audio are off and we’re concerned that you’re—”

“He’s not alone,” Cait said sharply. “Okay?”

Pause. Longer this time. “Oh, Jesus, sorry … I, ah, shit, man, we never thought that you would be with a—I mean, you don’t usually do that with the females, or, I mean, anyone, so, ah—”

“Later, Ivan,” Duke snapped.

“Oh, yeah. Sure … absolutely, my man…”

The volume on the commentary drained out, like whoever it was, was walking off the apology. Or tripping over it, as was the case.

Duke focused on her, his expression utterly unreadable. “What he means is, I don’t bang women at work.”

“Then why’d you ask me here?”

“Because I couldn’t wait any longer and you already had a date for tonight.”

“What if I hadn’t gone to the theater?”

“I’d have been stuck having to stalk that idiot singer until I ran into you again.” This was said as if he’d rather have teeth pulled out of his head by a tractor.

Cait had to laugh. “G.B.’s music really not to your liking?”

For a moment, something cold flared in his face. “No. Not at all. You, however”—he brushed his lips across hers—“would be worth the audio suicide.”

She brushed her hand though his short hair, and studied his face, memorizing it.

“I should go,” she said eventually, even though in her heart of hearts she didn’t want to. She just didn’t know what the other option was—the sex had made him anything but a stranger. Unfortunately, that had only lasted while they were doing the deed.

His lids lowered. “I’m not finished with you.”

Instantly, her heart started to pound again. She should probably try to play it cool, but she wanted more of him. In whatever form the sex took. Life was too damned short not to be transported to heaven at least one more time.

“Good,” she said.

“Tell me your number.”

After she recited the digits, she frowned. “Don’t you want to write it down?”

“You’re not that forgettable—trust me.”

As if to prove the point, he took her mouth again and kissed her thoroughly, even as he reached between them to the base of his erection and held the condom in place while he withdrew.

Chilly air hit her most sensitive skin, and yup, that reminded her that her breasts were everywhere and so were her clothes.

A sudden image of the other set she’d left on her bathroom floor flashed before her eyes.

Maybe this was a trend?

Okaaaay … he was up and dressed so much faster than she was. Then he turned away, as if he knew she wanted a little privacy.

Getting to her feet, Cait pulled her jeans back on and then fumbled with her bra, the straps confounding her, the hitch in the middle of her back refusing to cooperate. The turtleneck was the same, going on messily over her head, her arms getting stuck.

“All right,” she said.

As Duke pivoted back around, he seemed so remote, so tall, so removed.

Had they really just done that?

He opened the door without another word and the air that rushed in smelled kind of like the salon’s had, all kinds of shampoos and hair sprays mixing together. Which was strange. Maybe they had dancers somewhere in the club—

Oh, look, a group of big guys with black shirts that had
STAFF
printed on them. And they were allllll staring at her from their vantage point of about ten feet away.

Fantastic.

As Duke started to walk forward, she hid behind his shoulder to avoid meeting his colleagues in the eye—and what do you know, that was when reality set in.

Yup, that had actually happened. On the floor. Behind an unlocked door at his place of employment.

Shit. Maybe she couldn’t handle being a blond, after all.

As Duke led the way over to the rear exit, he avoided the wide stares of his coworkers and did his best to block their sight of his lady friend. Not sure how successful he was at the latter. Damn it.

It wasn’t that he was ashamed of what they’d done. She had come here for exactly what they had both wanted, and it had been awesome. But he wasn’t going to have her gawked at.

The door opened outward, so he turned himself to the side, his broad body shielding her. And as she shuffled by him, her arm brushed across his chest, reminding him of all the different kinds of contact they’d just had on the floor of the interrogation room.

Mmmmmm.

Outside, she went over to a Lexus SUV of some sort—and he followed, tracking every move she made: Those hips were swaying, not in the hyper-extended way some women threw it, but in the natural fashion of a woman who’d been properly serviced. And the curve of her ass? He wanted to put his hands all over that—

His cock started to thicken, the sexual urge coming back to him like he hadn’t been laid in weeks. Months. Maybe years.

She’d been … really fucking hot. Nervous, uncomfortable in the beginning … and then nothing but high-octane, full-bore with it during the sex, her nails ripping into his shoulders as she opened herself wide on the floor, uncaring about anything except the two of them coming together.

Not what he’d expected, to be honest.