Stripped (30 page)
“Do you?” he asked, his voice like gravel against her skin.
No.
But she couldn’t bring herself to speak. Could barely form the thought. Fire slid back into her veins, and she rotated her hips, silently begging him to push inside her and quell the growing ache.
She nearly whimpered when he withdrew both his hand and his body, leaning back to grasp the hem of her shirt. As he pushed it up her body, Natalya leaned forward, allowing him to remove the last of her clothes. When both her shirt and bra lay on the floor, Brandon gathered her breasts in his hands and placed a chaste kiss on each pert nipple. “Powerful things, sweetheart. I want to fuck you so badly it hurts.”
For once, the choice of words didn’t send revulsion tripping down her spine. Instead, his raw honesty lit her up like a match. She reached for him, suddenly desperately hungry for all the pleasure Brandon could create.
His chuckle lighted tender warmth in his eyes. “Not so fast this time, sweetheart. We’re gonna take it nice and slow, and I get to drive.”
Drive her into oblivion? Who was she to object? Obediently she fell back into the cushions, yielding to the questing touch of Brandon’s fingertips as he traced her curves. From shoulder to ankles, he explored her flesh, his mouth following the caress of his hands. The touch was so feather-soft she squirmed beneath him, want intensifying into a burning need. “Brandon. Please.”
B
He bent over her again, sliding his hands up her long, lithe legs, spreading her thighs until her wet pussy opened to him. He loved the taste of her. The musky flavor that held a hint of something he couldn’t define but couldn’t get enough of. When she’d come against his tongue he’d lapped as if he’d been denied water.
Drawn to that dewy paradise, he slid his tongue through her folds,
suckled at her swollen clitoris. She bucked into him, nearly dislodging his mouth, and beneath his tongue, her flavor erupted. His cock throbbed in answer, equally hungry for the damp heat.
Fuck.
He was coming undone already. No way could he bring her back to orgasm without spilling himself right along with her. Forcing desire down, he edged his tongue inside her opening, lapped greedily, then rocked back on his heels and eased from the couch. Her gaze burned into him as he shucked his clothes, devoured his body when he stood before her completely bare. When those green eyes dropped to his cock, and he witnessed the appreciation in her paralyzing stare, his throat cinched closed. He’d kept himself in shape, but no one had ever looked at him that way.
No
one.
“Come here,” she whispered, her hand extended.
The quiet request punched through his momentary paralysis, and he slipped his palm into hers, allowing her to draw him back to the couch. He knelt between her legs, bent over and captured her in a heated kiss. Her tongue tangled with his, wild and untamed, until breathing became impossible and he had to tear his mouth away to gasp in much-needed air. The pressure in his balls demanded satisfaction, and Brandon could no longer fight his raging desire. He needed this. Needed the firm grip of her pussy, the hot, wet depths to glove him tight.
Bracing his weight on his elbow, he leaned over her, pulled open his coffee table drawer, and fished out a condom. A smile touched her mouth as he ripped open the packet with his teeth. “May I?”
He nearly choked at the thought of her wicked fingers coming anywhere near his cock. Shaking his head, he chuckled. “If you touch me, it’s all over.”
She nodded, but the lift of her hips, the slow gyration she made beneath him as he rolled the condom on, teased. Her wet flesh met his throbbing cock, and even through the thin barrier between their skin, he felt her searing heat. Brandon sucked in a sharp breath. Dodged her hands as she reached to guide his cock inside her.
Her eagerness broke him. Never had sex been so absolutely necessary. So imperative. Nor had it been so mandatory that he watch himself slide inside her flesh. But it was, and he gripped her hips, lifting her body until the head of his cock aligned with her slick opening. Her hands locked onto his forearms, nails biting into his skin. Holding his own breath against the cataclysmic pleasure, Brandon eased the tip of him inside her tight, wet heat.
Ecstasy slammed into him. She gripped him hard, her pussy clamping around his rigid length, nudging him closer into headless abandon. So much for taking his time and drawing this out. No way could he wait.
With one prolonged thrust, he slid deep inside her. He watched as her flesh ate him up, as his cock speared into her pussy. Heaven. Goddamn paradise.
Natalya’s back came off the couch, her cry as sharp as glass. His cock pulsed against the tightening of her tissues, and it took every bit of self-restraint he possessed to fight down release. He breathed through his nose, counted the hash-marks between the numerals on his wall-hanging clock.
Then, Natalya moved beneath him, bending her knee, shifting so he slid in a hairsbreadth deeper.
Christ!
She was tight. Blisteringly hot.
And he was done for. He pulled back, drawing out the pleasure of sliding through her pussy, then plunged in hard. Her arms laced behind his neck, her legs wrapped around his waist. Her pleas, her muted cries urged him on. The rapture in her expression tore him apart at the seams, and Brandon wasn’t sure he’d ever come all the way together again. He thrust again, and she opened her eyes. Fathomless depths of jade bared her soul. He couldn’t look away. Lost in that mesmerizing stare, he felt her so deeply he’d swear they’d become one. He knew then. Something had cracked inside him. A permanent rend.
He blocked the unsettling discovery and increased their tempo. Harder, faster, he fucked her until he silenced the yearnings he couldn’t name.
“Brandon!”
As his name tore from her lips, her nails scored into his shoulders. She arched her back, lifting into his driving body, and a throaty moan possessed her. Around his cock, her flesh gripped tight. He gave in to ecstasy, feeling his climax rip through his veins. He drove inside her once more, his thoughts a haze of blissful nothingness as he came.
Natalya’s legs relaxed around his waist. She slid her hands along his spine, gentle pressure urging Brandon’s body down against her sweat-slickened skin. He tumbled into her embrace, his heart beating a frantic rhythm as he dusted kisses across her shoulder. “So beautiful. You are so beautiful when you come, sweetheart.”
A faint smile drifted over her lips as she murmured, “So are you.”
B
The warm body sleeping in the crook of his arm brought the memories back in a rush.
Natalya
. She’d drifted off while he tried to make sense of what had happened to him in her arms. He must have fallen asleep as well. Huh. That was a first. Not the nap, but that he’d napped with company.
Feminine
company. In broad daylight as opposed to the middle of the night.
Lying motionless, he took inventory of all the places they touched. Ankles twined. Legs tangled, her knee tucked securely between his. Her hip fit into his groin, the gentle curve of her waist molded against his belly. Soft breasts rose and fell beneath his arm as she breathed, and her hair tickled the side of his neck.
Pleasantly.
Yeah. She felt good. He could relax like this for a long time. Maybe wake her up with his mouth, coax her back to that incredible place where all he could think of was being inside her. But as the idea surfaced, another voice in his head balked at the notion. Why disturb her when this was so satisfying? Maybe he’d just close his eyes a little longer…
He let his eyelashes fall.
Yeah.
The silence settled around him, tugging him back into the contented void of sleep. They’d be late to work, but not by much. His
internal clock would have him up at five. Fifteen, twenty minutes max. Still plenty of time to navigate their mutual responsibilities.
A branch scraping against the side of his house opened his eyes once more, and he became aware of why he’d awakened in the first place. The short hairs at the nape of his neck lifted, silent triggers to something out of place. He listened for noises above the hum of his air conditioner.
No sounds, but something. Something out of the ordinary.
The overwhelming feeling they were being watched crawled down his spine. Logic argued against the possibility—his house was in a good neighborhood, a sign in the front yard broadcasted his security system. No one would peep around his windows in the middle of the day. No one had reason.
His wariness must be some kind of reaction to the memories Natalya stirred. Old demons rising to the surface to remind him he was a wanted man.
He closed his eyes again, and a car door slammed beyond his front window. Too close for comfort. He lifted to an elbow, sighting the room for where he’d laid his gun when he’d come home this morning. Spying it behind the planter on the kitchen counter, he disentangled his leg and lifted it over Natalya’s.
When he worked his arm from beneath her head, she rolled onto her side, snuggling close to him. One hand clutched reflexively at his chest. A misplaced smile drifted to his lips. He liked that. He suspected if she knew she’d just silently instructed him to stay put, she’d run like the wind. But the primitive part of his brain saw a woman needing protection and was eager to fulfill her subconscious request.
Toast. Officially, he was toast.
An engine roared to life in his driveway, reminding him why he’d lifted to his elbow. He vaulted over Natalya’s body and stumbled around the coffee table to the window. Leaning a shoulder into the curtains, he peered through the mini blinds, catching the briefest glimpse of a silver sedan as it sped down his street. License plate obscured.
Son of a bitch! Someone
had
been here. But why? Had the right people finally gotten word of his not-so-subtle invitations for his father’s friends to come and find him? He’d spent the better part of the last year dropping hints, making remarks in circles he felt certain would relay the news back to Kansas City and the silent, sleeping mob. Aaron and he had almost gotten into a fistfight when Aaron learned Brandon had openly revealed his parentage.
Had his father finally come to finish what he screwed up the first time?
Brandon moved across the room, habitually seeking out his gun. He checked the magazine, the chamber, then double-checked the safety and set it back down. This was exactly why he didn’t take naps on his couch with beautiful women who filled his brain with ridiculous notions that snuggling could be better than sex.
One way or another, she’d suffer if he let her inside. She’d either find disappointment when she learned he’d brought about his family’s murder, or she’d find herself staring down the barrel of a loaded gun, bait to draw him out.
If she were lucky, she’d disintegrate in an explosion and she wouldn’t feel pain. Or fear. But she’d pay the price for his mistakes.
He turned back to the couch wanting nothing more than to ease back down between the cushions and her body and return to the contentment he’d known minutes ago.
Shaking off the notion, he focused on what he understood—desire and the intense way she responded to him. God, he’d said some foolish things. Pathetic remarks that he vaguely realized he should keep to himself, but his damn tongue refused to stop.
Get lost in you…
Brandon softly snorted. Right. So much for letting his dick think for him.
He glanced at the clock, observing it was ten minutes after four. She’d wanted to be home by now. He could almost guarantee when she woke up, no matter how sated she’d been when they fell asleep, she wouldn’t be pleased. Better get it over with. Take her home, ask about
the gun like he should have an hour ago, and get to work himself. If they left now, he could still get back here in time to deliver Opie’s new chain. Sue’s girls would be ecstatic. With the heavy-duty links he’d bought, Opie could play with them in the backyard, and they’d never again worry about him breaking free.
And he’d never again have to chase the overzealous elephant down.
Yeah. Wake her up before he could fully remember the way she’d tasted against his tongue.
He went to the couch, bending over to give her shoulder a shake. “Hey, you. It’s time to get up. You’re going to be late for work.”
Her eyes snapped open. Unmoving, she stared at the buttons on the cushions. “What?”
“It’s after four. We fell asleep.”
Like a rocket, she shot off the couch and to her feet. “You’re kidding! After four? Oh, God, I don’t have time to get ready.” She grabbed her underwear and hastily stuffed a leg inside. “Damn it!”
“You’ve got plenty of time. The girls aren’t there this early.”
“Jill is.” She tugged on her shorts.
“Well that’s because—” He stopped himself seconds away from announcing to the current object of his desire that he’d slept with Jill. Not a good move. Jill possessed enough jealousy for both women.
“Because what?”
“Because Jill’s an overachiever.”
Natalya lifted an eyebrow. “There’s not much to overachieve with stripping.”
It sounded lame to his ears too, but he clung to the excuse, not knowing what else to say. “She wants Kate’s slot.”
“Funny.” Natalya shrugged into her shirt and bra, picked up her hair tie, and hastily pulled her long auburn lengths back. “I’d swear she wants my job.”
True. But not the job Natalya referenced. More like the one she’d just assumed—ardent lover who came to life in his hands and whispered his name when he put his mouth on her flesh.