Girl Gear 5: Wicked Games (13 page)

His cock had already made its preference known, but Doug wanted to take his time. He pushed his knee between her thighs, separating her for the exploration he had in mind, the trip he wanted to take her on while watching her expression.

He slipped his hand down to brush over the closely clipped hair where her legs came together, seeking out her clit and playing ever so lightly there where he'd played so much harder last night.

She gave a small shudder; her eyes drifted closed as she smiled in pleasure, and he stopped.

Pouting and frowning, she looked back at him again. "You stopped."

"You closed your eyes. I told you I like to watch."

"My eyes?"

"Your eyes, your mouth. You've got a nice face."

"Oh, well, thanks," she said with a laugh. "I just thought being a visual type of guy and all…"

"What?" He slid his index finger down her slit, which was so juicy and warm. "That I only want to look at your pussy?"

It was almost as if she blushed without the color staining her face. "Well, that, yes."

He shifted, moving his other arm to capture a nipple between two knuckles and tug. "And that, too?"

She nodded. "The covers are in the way. You can't see any of what
you're wanting
to see."

"Ah, but that's where you're wrong." That's all he could afford to say without explaining how the look in her eyes grabbed him so tightly he thought he would choke.

Then she totally blew him away by throwing sheet, blanket and bedspread to their feet. "Well, I can't see anything of what I want to see. So there."

Saucy wench. He rolled over on to his back, crossed his feet at the ankles, his arms behind his head. "Is that better?"

"Do you remember that childish taunt
? '
Take a picture. It'll last longer'?" She pushed up to her hands and knees and scooted down in the bed to straddle his lower thighs. "I wish I had a camera right now."

His cock, already straining, bobbed with pride. "I've got a digital on my desk."

"Is that so?" She grinned, her brows waggling in time to his
cock's
up and down show.

She was so beautiful, sitting there all sleepy and disheveled, not the least bit inhibited by her own nudity or her apparent enjoyment of his.

It scared the crap out of him how quickly they'd reached this place of comfortable intimacy. And it pissed him off that he wasn't going to be around long enough to enjoy her as fully as he might like.

Still … there wasn't a damn thing but his own stupid descent into touchy-feely,
talkedy
-talk-talk hell stopping him from enjoying her now.

He bucked with his legs and tumbled her onto his chest. She grabbed at his shoulders, but he didn't give her a chance to find her balance before he had her pinned flat on her back.

"I changed my mind."

"About?"

He sat up on his knees, straddling her. "Looking at you."

She slipped her hands beneath her breasts and plumped them up. "Is this what you wanted to see?"

By some wild force of will, he stifled a nearly painful groan. "It's a start."

She pinched her nipples into tight buds, her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she played. His fingers gouged into his thighs; his gaze moved from her breasts to her eyes, which never left his.

He didn't know which one of them he was trying to kid here, faking his strength of will, when he'd never be able to walk again if he didn't pry his fingers away from his thighs.

He shifted position and settled between her legs, spreading her wide open; he could smell her sex and see how wet she was. If he'd been wearing a condom he'd already be buried inside.

Instead, he leaned down and lapped from her vagina to her clit. She came up off the bed and pressed her mound to his mouth; he used his hands on her thighs to push her back to the bed, and pulled her sweet pussy lips apart with his thumbs.

"Are you getting the eyeful you wanted down there?"

Her voice was no more than a raw whisper, and he answered her by shoving his tongue into her hole and eating her up.

She cried out, thrust upward. He let her go with a quick sucking kiss to her cit. "It's a great view. I wish you could see it."

She reached toward his bedside table again, found a condom and passed it along. "I know that view well. I've lived with it all my life. I'm much more about watching the action."

She wanted to watch him screw her. She wanted to see him slide his cock as far as he could go. Nothing else she could've said, could've asked for,
would
have blown him further away.

The women he'd known rarely wanted the lights on, much less a full visual. But this one… "I knew there was a reason I was crazy about you."

"Why's that?" she asked, watching him roll the condom from the tip of his cock to the base.

"A guy would have to be mad not to appreciate a woman with your appetite for sex." One hand holding his shaft, he positioned himself between her folds, spreading her juices from her clit to the button of her ass.

She boosted herself up onto her elbows, spread her legs wider, pulled up her knees and braced her feet flat on the mattress. She watched him circle the head of his cock around her, waited until he pushed inside before she looked up and said, "No, Doug. Not sex. My appetite for you."

He stopped.

Buried as far inside of her as he could manage in this position, he stopped because he knew he was faced with a choice here. A choice to simply feed both their sexual appetites or to make love to her the way his gut urged him to do.

"Well?" she
asked,
an unholy gleam in her eye that sealed his fate.

"Well what?"

"What are you waiting for?"

And with that, he made his choice, taking hold of her hips, pulling her close and draping her thighs over his. "Is that better?"

She glanced down to where their bodies were one, glanced back up to meet his gaze. "You're getting there."

"Oh, so I'm gonna be doing all the work here, is that it?" He pulled out, pushed forward.

She shivered; her nipples drew up into morsels meant to be enjoyed, and his mouth watered.

"Let's see." She wiggled, gasped,
caught
a breath. "It seems to me I'm the one here who was roused from a perfectly good sleep. It's only fair that you make sure I'm a happy woman when you leave this bed."

"Or else?"

"Or else?" she echoed.

He ran his palms down her thighs, his thumbs rubbing slow circles all the way until he reached the joint where her legs met her hips. "That sounded like a threat. That I'd better make you a happy woman, or else."

When he slid his thumbs farther and captured the knot of her clitoris between, she tossed back her head and reared her lower body up toward his.

He surged forward because he could hardly do anything less, what with the way she was working his cock. Not to mention that he wasn't exactly a saint or anything when it came to having Kinsey in his bed.

She blew out a staccato series of breaths as if pulling herself together and away from orgasm's edge. And then she lay back on the pillows, looking as if she was queen of the harem. "I'm assuming you might want the pleasure of my company next time you're in town. So making me happy now would be a very good thing."

He really didn't like the way she sounded as flippant as she did, the way she made what they were doing sound like nothing but a cheap fling—though he'd given her every reason to do just that, hadn't he?

He hadn't exactly shared the battle going on among his mind, his emotions and the head he kept in his pants. "Hey, I still live here, ya know."

She scooted farther down in the bed, sliding herself up the length of his shaft, her eyes soft and sleepy and sexy as hell as she watched her sex swallow his. "Yeah, but for how long?"

He pushed forward then, leaning over her, his hands braced on either side of her head. This had to be his favorite position, looking down into her face, watching the shifts in her expression as he moved.

Oh, good, sweet, gorgeous doll
… He groaned, loving the way she pressed her lips together to hold back the sounds that made him nuts, loving the way her breasts, all round and plump and incredibly edible, teased him.

He grunted as he slid into her fully, growled as he lowered his weight and paused. Her legs went around his waist and he lost all grasp of his mental faculties. He couldn't even think to answer. All that mattered was how long he could hang on right here, right now.

But she was giggling and making it hard for him to concentrate. If he didn't concentrate, the volcano would blow and the only one in this bed to be happy would be John Henry.

"What's so funny?"

"I absolutely love the sounds you make."

"Is that so?" he asked, mentally running through the opposing team's stats for this weekend's Texans match-up.

She nodded eagerly. "And it's not even like the noises come out of your mouth. I mean, obviously they do." She stopped, hissed as he rotated his hips, shuddered before going on. "But it's more like they come straight out of
your
…"

"My cock?" he finished for her.

She shook her head. "Your gut. Right here," she said, her fingers pushing into the muscles supporting his pelvis.

This time his moan was feral and deep, and her grin was as wide and bright as the moon. "Right there. I can feel it vibrate against my fingers."

All be could feel were the vibrations thundering from his balls to the head of his cock. "I don't think I've ever experienced sex with a partner who cackles."

She pouted and frowned. "I do not cackle."

"Yeah, you do." He thrust in.

"Do not."

"Yeah, you do. And you huff."

He pulled out. She huffed.

"And you puff."

She puffed.

"Doug?"

"Kinsey?" he answered, his voice as strained as he expected.

"Why don't you blow my house down?"

"Is that a bad architect joke?"

"No. It's an order," she said as she reached up and pulled him down to meet her thrusts.

That was all it took; he was done. He covered her completely, buried his face in her fine-smelling hair, breathed in the scents of grasses and herbs and gave himself over to her body's sweet demands.

His hips set a rhythm that hers eagerly met, a slow in-and-out motion that he felt no need to speed up. Not yet. Not when his enjoyment of the moment was heightened by hers, and when hers was so hard to deny.

She wasn't still for a moment, her arms moving so that her hands ran from his shoulders to his ass. Her legs winding around his, the soles of her feet rubbing his calves. He wanted her to come, wanted to feel her contractions grip and squeeze and—

She cried out and grabbed his backside with greedy fingers, one leg thrown over his hips to guide him to where she needed him to be. He waited, waited, until he couldn't wait anymore.
Oh, sweet, yes, baby, oh, baby.

Grunting and groaning, he shoved his cock home, pumping with fierce abandon as his gut ripped open to spill more than his seed.

He spilled all that he felt, and he did so in utter silence as his body shuddered with spasms that felt as if they were killing him. And then he was done, exhausted, depleted,
spent
beyond his ability to understand.

Kinsey Gray was like no woman he'd ever known. She'd taken him apart, and he was going to have to work his butt off to find all the pieces. But first he was going to have to say goodbye, to get up out of this bed and literally fly away.

He didn't think that he'd ever regretted leaving a woman behind before he'd even pulled out of her body. But this time, this time… How the hell was he supposed to walk away knowing what he was leaving behind?

Chapter 7

«
^
»

L
ater that morning, Kinsey settled into a chair at the gIRL-gEAR conference table, fearing imminent death by starvation. Lauren followed, fresh from a stop at Einstein Bros. for bagels and
shmears
. Poe arrived moments later with a pot of green tea.

Kinsey's favorite cream cheese spread was the maple, raisin and walnut. The bagels were a secondary consideration. She'd come to their informal meeting armed with two lattes from Starbucks, hoping the wake-me-up caffeine charge would see her through the day.

After
Sydney
's announcement yesterday afternoon, the three partners had decided during a brief after-work, drive-time phone call to do breakfast together this morning, Kinsey and Poe being directly involved in the auction and Lauren being a voyeuristic busybody.

Each was to have come to the table with thoughts on implementing the fund-raiser, or even with alternative ideas that might have popped up overnight. It was rather short notice, yes, but over the years each of the partners had discovered they shared an aptitude for brainstorming on the fly.