Make Me Lose Control (15 page)

That this beautiful woman wanted him...

He lifted his head, struggling for calm. Her eyes were closed, he could see the fan of her lashes against her cheeks and he dropped tiny kisses on each eyelid, trying to convey how much her desire undid him.

His mouth once again found hers and he trailed a hand up her spine to find the tab of her dress’s zipper at the middle of her back. He drew it toward her waist in tiny increments, until she gasped and pulled away.

“Not here,” she said, her tone alarmed. Her hand pressed to the bodice to keep it in place.

He kissed her temple, her forehead, the downy softness of her left eyebrow. “The bats won’t mind.”

“Someone could drive by in a boat,” she said in a stage whisper.

Smiling a little, he glanced over her shoulder at the dark and tranquil lake. “Why would anybody come to our end of the cove at this time of night?”

“Jace.”

“All right, all right.” He took her free hand and drew her through the glass doors. Once inside, he continued toward the great room. The lights had been dimmed here, and he stopped beside the couch, unable to go another inch without tasting her again.

This kiss was rougher, he allowed himself just a little of that, his tongue aggressive against hers. She melted into his body, both sets of fingers clutching his waist. Her bodice sagged a little and one skinny strap dropped toward her elbow. He cruised his mouth along the curve of her neck and scraped his teeth against the refined bone of her shoulder. There was so much elegance in her design that he wanted to stretch her onto a flat surface and have his way with her limbs, her arched feet, her slender hands, examining each part of her with the avid interest of a builder.

He’d take her fingers into his mouth to learn their shape. Bend her knees up, then out, her soles pressed together so he could admire the erotic, feminine angles and the soft folded secrets between her thighs.

His hands drifted down to the hem of her skirt, finding the bare skin of her legs. He touched her there, the fabric catching on his wrists as he drifted his fingertips over sleek warm flesh toward her panties.

She moaned when he found lace, traveled farther, then dipped both hands inside the stretchy material to cup her bottom, bare palms to bare flesh. She shuddered against him and lust flooded his body, steeling his muscles and causing his skin to burn.

He dropped onto the sofa cushions, pulling her over him. Their mouths fused and he steeped himself once again in her taste, his hands flexing in resilient flesh. Her hips rocked, pushing into his palms, then pushing against his hard cock. Jace groaned, his control beginning to unravel.

Switching positions, he began to draw down the scrap of lace.

She helped, yanking up the hem of her dress, then her eyes flew open. “Wait! I can’t do it here.”

He ignored her batting hands. “No boats, darlin’.”

“Your daughter sits on this couch,” she said, gaze boring into his.

“Hell.” The idea was nearly a lust-killer “Okay. Fine. Up you go.” He had Shay on her feet and began to hustle her toward the stairs, the master bedroom his intended destination. Then he halted. “Double hell.”

“What?” Her hair was disheveled, her mouth slightly swollen, her cheeks a delicious pink. If they didn’t get somewhere horizontal soon he was going to ravish her standing up.

“
I
can’t do it on that fucking bed with the chains. I’ll flip us both over.” He shot her a look. “So it’s your room or nothing, baby.”

“But...but...we’ll have to walk past London’s.”

“Close your eyes,” he ordered, swinging her up in his arms.

She laughed, burying her face in his neck until he nudged her door open with his foot. The room was lit by a small bedside lamp and he took in the flowers in the short vase beside it, the soft throw draped over an easy chair in the corner, the white and fluffy lace-edged duvet. A photo of Mason stood on the long dresser and he paused to flip the frame facedown. “We’re officially a no-kid zone now,” he said.

She giggled, then pressed kisses to his throat, raising his temperature and spiking his lust. But he lay her against the covers and backed away to gaze on her in the faint golden glow of the lamp. Her skin was luminous, her hair gleaming with color and life. She was a candle, bringing radiance to the bleak dreariness of his soul.

What a ridiculous flight of fancy, he told himself, dismissing the idea as he watched her eyelids drift lower until her lashes brushed her rosy cheeks. Her fingers opened to clutch handfuls of the silky material of her skirt, inching it upward. “Take off your clothes, Jace,” she whispered.

“Sure,” he said easily, though his gaze was riveted to the flesh she was slowly revealing. “And you take off yours.”

Instead of complying with her request, he remained still as Shay drew the dress up her slender body. There were the lacy panties, the color of flesh, and a matching strapless bra that cupped her breasts like he wanted to. Once the fabric was pulled over her head, she blinked, finding him there, staring at her half-naked form.

“You’re still dressed,” she said with a little frown.

“I told you I’d make you despise me,” he said, teasing her again. Then he gestured with his hand. “Go ahead. I’m watching. Waiting.”

Her eyes widened and her fingers tightened on the dress she still held. He saw the struggle on her face, and wondered if she’d take up his challenge.

A long moment passed. He didn’t exhale until her gaze shifted to his. She held her hand over the side of the bed, uncurled her fingers and let the dress fall.

His cock twitched, every iron inch of it. As her fingers drew slowly down the center line of her body, his lungs seized. She circled her navel with a fingertip, drew it across the horizontal line of her panties, then to the center again so she could retrace her way back toward her breasts.

Jace fisted his hands, trying to keep them under control, though they itched to travel that same path with a hotter, heavier touch in order to rend the fabric covering her flesh so he could have all that he wanted of her.

Grasp. Take. Possess.

But this was the game he’d determined, and he held himself immobile as she drew her palms to the sides of her breasts and then inward, stroking herself over the lacy bra. He swallowed past the tightness in his throat, his mouth drying as he saw that her nipples were tight now, poking up in invitation.

Still, he didn’t move.

Not even when she sat up and her hands reached behind her back. He saw the instant the bra was unfastened, the lace beginning to release its hold, but she caught it against her, one arm crossing her chest.

Jace groaned, his cock damn uncomfortable in its denim prison. “Shay...”

“Is there a problem?” she asked, one eyebrow arched as she kept her breasts from his gaze with her cruel hand holding the fabric to her skin.

“I want to see,” he muttered.

And she smiled.

The seductive warmth of it hit him like a blow to the chest and he swayed on his feet. Her compliance in this little game, her confidence in this moment was a gift, he realized. A gift to him that was almost unbelievable.

Trust.

No one—no woman—had ever trusted him like this.

In another slow movement, Shay slid the lace away, revealing the perfection of her breasts. Her arm moved like a ballerina’s to release the bra. It floated to the ground on top of her dress.

Every one of his muscles was strung tight. His avid gaze consumed her, all those inches of glowing, apricot flesh, the tight tips of her nipples, the triangle of material that was her only covering now. She drew her thumbs along her hips and looped them in the narrow sides of her panties.

She hesitated.

He broke.

One minute he was by the side of the bed, the next, he was on it and yanking that scrap of lace down the length of her smooth legs. Then he crawled between them, desperate, and held her open while he leaned down for his first taste of her.

At the last instant he remembered—
gentle!
—and he corralled his voracious hunger for her. Breathing in the creamy scent of her arousal, he just looked at those beautiful glistening folds flowering for him.

His.

But he reined that in as well and bent his head, his tongue moving in short brushstrokes, opening her there, exposing the little nub that he caressed with the very tip of his tongue.

She cried out, one hand spearing in his hair, the other curling into the duvet at her side. He slid his palms under her bottom, tilting her hips so that he could play with her like a tender delicacy that had to be licked, sipped, savored.

Too soon she was moaning, her whole body tense. He lifted his mouth from her.

“Jace...” It was nearly a wail of protest.

He pressed a kiss to her stomach, glanced up to meet her eyes.

“I despise you,” she said, her tone earnest. “I really do.”

Chuckling, he crawled up her hot body, her legs twining his hips. “Not enough,” he said, then he closed his mouth over her breast, drew up so only the nipple was between his lips and gave a pull.

A
gentle
pull.

She banged on his shoulder with her fist, which made him want to laugh again, but then it was just so good to have that sweet, hard tip in his mouth and he filled his hand with the other breast, cupping and caressing.

Her fist banged again. “I loathe you,” she said as he moved his mouth along her soft skin to the other nipple. He toyed with that, too. “Loathe you,” Shay said again.

He smiled against her flesh then drew his mouth along her collarbone, up her neck, to meet her lips. She opened for him instantly, drawing in his tongue, sucking on it hard as if to show him how it must be done.

He was steaming beneath his clothes, his body primed for her. Forking his hand in her hair, he tilted her head for a different fit and kissed her, completely, adding a touch of ravish, then backed off before lust overcame him.

“I’m too heavy for you,” he murmured, but her limbs cinched down on him.

“No, I like your weight.” She pressed her mouth to his jaw, bit him there. “I’d like your
naked
weight better.”

Giving in to what they both wanted, he did a one-arm push-up, using the other hand to yank at his T-shirt and lift it over his head. Then he lowered to her, his chest brushing the hard, ruched tips of her breasts. Her head turned to the side and she moaned, her fingers trailing along his spine. They insinuated themselves under the waistband of his jeans and the elastic of his boxers.

He shuddered.

“Please, Jace,” she whispered in his ear. “I want you. I need you.”

Hauling in a breath, he moved down her body again. He peppered kisses over her breasts, his tongue swiping just the crests of her nipples. “I abhor you, Jace,” she said as he made his way back down to the wet, soft center of her.

She cried out when he tongued her there. He gave her more friction this time, playing with the small nub and pinching it between his lips. She was panting, her neck arching, her hips curling toward him. He went on one elbow to watch her lovely, lovely face as he insinuated a finger inside her. Then two.

Her eyes widened, her gaze snapped to his. He began to move them, in slow circles and tender thrusts. Her heels dug into the mattress and he turned his face to kiss the inside of one knee, and then the other.

With his tongue, he wrote his initials there.

She made a sound, low in her throat. “I detest you,” she said. “I loathe you, I abhor you. Do you hear me? I
despise
you.”

And then it was time. He lowered his head, found her clit with his mouth and sucked firmly. At the same time he thrust deep inside the heated clasp of her body. Three fingers.

Her body jerked, once, twice, again and again. He rode it out with her, letting up by degrees, until she was no longer coming. Just quivering.

Lifting his head, he saw the dazed look on her face. He slowly pulled his fingers from her, heard her squeak of protest. Her muscles were still clamped around him. “Relax, baby,” he said, caressing her hip while he worked the buttons of his jeans with his other hand. “You’ll need to be able to let me in.”

She made another inarticulate sound and her eyes drifted closed. Good. It gave him time to regain control and to grab a condom from his room.

He was gone for twenty seconds. Upon his return, she opened her eyes and reached for him with one languid hand. Naked, he kneed onto the mattress. She lay as he had left her, sprawled in a sated abandon that brought forth a new tenderness.

A renewed resolve.

Still stay gentle.

It took time to work himself inside her. She writhed with each slow increment and he watched carefully for true discomfort. “Ease up, Shay,” he whispered to her. “You want me in, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she said. “Oh, God, yes.”

He moved his hand between them, massaging her there, caressing the place they were joining. His cock slid deeper. She moaned, lifting into him, but he held her hip down. “Let me do all the work.”

Bending his head, he sucked at her nipple, rhythmic and steady, and felt himself breach another inch. Another. Another. Until they were sealed, his hips to her pelvis, his cock sheathed by her tight heat.

His eyes might have rolled back in his head.

Then he was moving, small movements again, rocking, not driving. Sweat burst over his skin as he held firm to the reins. When he felt his grasp on them slipping, he stilled, then began again.

Her legs slid up his thighs, her ankles crossing at the small of his back, chaining him to her. Gritting his teeth, he continued the sweet rock, completion just evading.

“I hate you,” Shay said, a demand in his ear as she lifted up to him again. “I hate you, I hate you.”

Her body began shuddering as the climax hit her. He let it pull him over, his bigger frame quaking with the goodness of it. “Shay,” he groaned as she clutched at his shoulders, the scrape of her nails wringing another pulse from him.

“I hate you,”
she said, one final time with feeling, just as her body went limp.

“I know,” he replied, collapsing into the pillow.