Under His Skin (5 page)

He didn’t want to let go of her but he also wanted her naked, two conflicting desires. Tugging on the loose ends of the bow at her neck released it, and the material went slack.

Taking that as her queue, Pandora stepped back, hooked her thumbs into the fabric under her armpits and slithered out of the dress. He watched her shove it off her hips until all she wore were the hottest underwear he’d ever seen. Calling it underwear didn’t do it justice. The red strapless bra plumped and hugged her body. The fishnet stockings were held in place by garters framing a triangle of lace covering her mound.

“Fuck me,” he said.

She put a hand on her hip, one side of her mouth hiking up. “Isn’t that the point?”

“Yes. Yes it is.”

He crowded her back down into the chair, grabbed her knees and pulled her ass to the edge of the cushion. He wanted to dive between her thighs but he had overtaxed his hip this weekend. Gripping the armrests, he lowered back down to his knees, feeling the movement as if it were a hot poker where he usually felt nothing at all.

“Brian?”

“Fine,” he wheezed, bowing his head while the pain passed.

She lifted her hands to stroke his temples and dropped light kisses across his hairline. He kept waiting for her to ask what was wrong, why he couldn’t keep going, but she said nothing. Her touch stayed away from the new tattoo but traced his muscles, his spine and the band of his jeans. His stomach clenched as her fingers made a slow path around his hips to the tab on his pants.

Could he keep it hard? Pills hadn’t helped, and he’d been in this same spot with a woman before with no wood. He held his breath as she tabbed his jeans open and slid her hand into his boxer briefs. Her fingers closed around his dick and he hissed. Nerve endings that hadn’t felt arousal for over a year jumped to life, radiating pleasure to every synapse.

“Stop,” he got out, though his voice was strained.

Pandora froze, her hand still circling his cock, her thumb pressing against the slit. He wasn’t just hard, he was fucking hard.

Opening his eyes, he wished he’d turned on the rest of the lights. He wanted to be able to see if the color was high in her cheeks, if her eyes were dilated, and if his facial hair had marked her skin.

Lowering his head, he scraped his stubble between the valley of her breasts and followed it with a trail of kisses, nibbling the skin along the edges of her bra and searching out her nipples through the fabric. The little leopard spots disappeared into the cups, teasing him.

She pressed her hands to his back, cradling his head as he went lower. He cupped her hips, pushed his fingers under the thin band of her panties and shoved them down. He’d damn well make sure she came, because he didn’t know if he’d be able to a second time.

Pandora lifted her hips and he slipped the lace down her legs. The stockings and garter belt he left in place. He could smell the faint musk of her arousal. Pressing his face against the crease where thigh met hip, he kissed along the line of the garter belt. He’d leave those on, for now.

How had a woman like her almost married an assmunch like Robert? If she were his, he’d take care of her, protect her.

He grasped her knees and pushed them open. “Lean back.”

Flopping against the cushions, she allowed him to drape her legs over the armrests. He brushed his fingers against her folds and chuckled.

“Is that a pussy tattooed on your pussy?”

“Maybe?” Arching her back, she slid farther down the chair. Her smile was seductive. “Why don’t you find out?”

“I think I will.”

She hadn’t laughed at him. If he was any judge, she was as into it as he was.

Dipping his head, he braced his elbows on the cushion and licked the small outline of a cat. It was positioned as far up her left inner thigh as it could go and not be on her labia. Pandora’s legs tensed and her knees hugged his shoulders from one little touch.

“Do I want to know why?” He squeezed her thighs and kissed her hip.

“Right now?” she asked, exasperation written on her face.

The rush to get inside her had slowed. He would be there, but in good time. Gently he passed his fingers over her sex. She sucked in a breath and arched her back at the caress.

“Maybe,” he said, enjoying the teasing.

“Fine!” She squealed when he tweaked her clit. “When Kellie and Mary broke even on opening the shop, we decided to all get pussy tattoos because it would be funny. Happy now?”

“Yeah, that’ll do.”

Pandora shouted when Brian pressed his face between her legs and licked. She’d expected a soft touch but he didn’t give her softness. Her hips came off the cushion and she gripped the armrests, holding on as tight as she could. He didn’t restrain her movements. Instead, he used his hands to spread her for his questing tongue.

He thrust in and out, feathering touches over her clit with his fingers, teasing her when she least expected it. Over and over again, he didn’t change the force or rhythm, just tortured her with the same touch.

Digging her fingers into his hair, she yanked. Her tongue wouldn’t work except to mumble incoherent sounds. Words were beyond her. The room spun, flickering in and out of focus.

Brian shifted his hold on her, driving his fingers into her pussy, stretching her. The new sensations rocked her hips up again. His mouth settled on her clit, his teeth raking over the sensitive nubbin, and she screamed. He sucked, sending her hurtling over the edge. Her muscles tensed and bowed, shuddering her extremities and locking her fingers and toes into place. He pumped his fingers slowly, dragging out her orgasm until she thought she’d die from pleasure.

Collapsing back into the chair, she spent several moments catching her breath. She pried one eye and then the other open. Brian had his arms draped over her legs, his chin pillowed on her breasts, watching her.

Digging her fingers into his hair, she pulled him up her body. He grunted and leaned heavily on her. She wrapped her arms under his and held him. He didn’t kiss her at once, bumping their noses and kissing the corners of her mouth.

“Bed.” She sat up, forcing him back on his heels. Standing, she pulled him up to his feet, not missing the wince as he straightened. She knew the accident had hurt him, he’d called himself a cripple, but how far did the damage go?

He gripped the hem of his shirt.

Placing a hand over his, she shook her head. “The tattoo. Leave it on.”

Nodding, he chuckled. “You’re smart.”

“I try.” Stretching, she looped her arms around his neck. “Want to help me get the rest of this off?”

His hands flexed over her ass. “Leave the stockings on.”

She laughed. “Typical.”

He unsnapped her bra and let it fall to the floor. His gaze zeroed in on her breasts, no doubt discovering how far her little spots went.

Before he could touch her, she grabbed his hands and pulled him toward the bed. Divesting him of his pants took all of two seconds, and they were tumbling onto the mattress. She wanted to see him but she didn’t think he would be okay with that after his reaction the day before.

Rolling until she was on top, she straddled his legs and took him in hand. She refused to let her gaze linger on the scars. He was more than the accident, than the band. Bending, she licked the head of his cock.

“Come here.” He reached for her, grasping her shoulders and tugging.

“But—”

“No.”

Crawling up his body, she shoved his shoulders down on the bed and kissed him. His hands plucked her breasts, plumping them. The feel of his hands on her had her shuddering, shimmying her body against his.

“Condom?”

“Wallet. Pants.”

Before he could move, she reached for his jeans and dug a folded duct tape wallet out of his pocket.

“No.” He snatched it from her hands before she could flip it open, and rolled to his side. “Sorry. Personal stuff.”

She shrugged and waited for him to produce the necessary protection. The wallet was tossed onto the nightstand, but he did not immediately turn back to her. Was he hiding something? It didn’t matter in the long run. It was only one night. She waited a few moments before he rolled to his back, the plastic wrapper catching some of the light from the lamp. She crawled over him to straddle his thighs.

“So what if you keep nudie pictures in your wallet?”

He scowled. “That’s not—”

Pressing a quick kiss to his lips, she snagged the condom from him. “Joking.” She pushed his shoulders back down to the bed when he tried to rise. “I’m on top. Knees up.” She rolled the condom on, a thrill coursing through her body. This was a fantasy. Something that couldn’t be real and yet, here they were.

Leaning back, she grasped his cock. Placing his penis at her entrance, she sank down on his hard length. Her breath stuttered to a halt. For a moment, she closed her eyes and willed herself to remember this first time forever.

Brian gripped her hips and urged her to move. She groaned at the slow drag of flesh on flesh. He thrust up, sheathing his hardness inside her, fitting their bodies together.

Gasping, she pressed her back against his thighs. Their gazes locked.

“Are you watching?” she asked, her voice low and raspy.

He grunted.

Rising, she moaned. He gripped her thighs, helping her balance. Her muscles screamed as she fucked herself on his cock. Brian thrust up to meet her, his thumbs finding their way to her clit and massaging it in time to the pistoning motion of their bodies.

“Tell me you’re coming,” he gasped.

“Almost.” Her voice hitched up as he stroked harder, rotating his hips against hers and hitting a new spot. “Again,” she gasped.

He repeated the motions once, twice more before her inner muscles constricted. He held her hips and thrust in and out, his motions frantic, prolonging her orgasm almost painfully, until his dick twitched deep within her.

Falling forward, she kept her weight off his chest on rubbery arms.

“Wow,” she gasped, rolling to the side.

He captured her and brought her back against his body. “That was worth waiting for.”

Her heart stilled for a moment. This was random sex. Fantasy fucks. Nothing more. Wasn’t it?

* * * * *

Pandora studied Brian’s face. When she got home, she’d draw him like this. Relaxed and vulnerable. He was handsome. Hot or sexy didn’t fit him, the words were too vulgar for a man like him. The structure of his face, the way his jaw was shaped, he looked like a classic hero out of a musical. One of the men who made the sun rise and stars shine for the women they loved. Her mother had imparted a love for the old, cheesy musicals, and she ate them up. The heroes in those movies were nothing like the men in her life. They didn’t ignore her like her father, or hurt her like Robert. They were safe.

Daring to run her fingers over the curve of his jaw, she focused on the feel of his stubble against her skin. The prickly sensation had her shivering, remembering how he’d used his facial hair to tease and torment her.

It would be wise to leave now. They’d had more than their share of fun, and a clean break would be best. He didn’t know she only lived off Greenville Avenue. They hadn’t traded phone numbers, though he could easily find her through the shop if he was so inclined.

She didn’t leave though. Shifting to her side, she tugged the sheet up a little higher and let her gaze sweep down his body. He still wore his shirt. It was hiked up on one side. She could see the prow of the ship. She wanted to pull his shirt off, trace the lines of his muscles and laugh at his half-shaven state. Maybe she’d offer to shave him completely, but that meant spending time with him. She needed to head home. She should put this night in a box of memories, swathed in velvet because it was precious. Though nothing good could come of staying, she didn’t want the dream to end.

The reality of her experience with men was, to say the least, brutal. Robert had never been half as gentle or concerned with her as Brian had. She hadn’t been able to see the abuse Robert ladled out on her at the time, because it was all she had known. First her father, who pretended she didn’t exist, abusing her emotionally, and then Robert, who carried it through to the physical. Hearing that she didn’t matter, that she wasn’t good enough as a child had paved the road for the abusive relationship that would follow. Some part of her had believed she deserved it. That Robert was the best thing that would ever happen to her, because she wasn’t good enough for anyone else. She’d come a long way in the last two years from the sobbing wreck Mary and Kellie had rescued outside the Double Wide bar. She remembered that night with such frightening clarity, she could even still feel the prick of gravel on her bare knees and the shiner that had been her parting present.

She’d met Brian at the halfway point on her journey to being a victim, still starved for attention from anyone around her. H e’d been an easy target for an eighteen-year-old version of herself to fall for. Ten years later, she could still see the appeal. But now she had a woman’s knowledge of how to please him, and she’d never really thanked him in the first place.

Gathering the sheet under her armpits, she sat up and scooted down the bed. Brian shifted in his sleep, half rolling toward her. Catching the hem of his shirt, she pushed it up, exposing his abs and lower chest. The tattoo was still at the angry red phase of healing, but on his pale skin the colors popped. Skeletons representing his former band mates swung from the rigging, their toothy grins characteristic of the footage she’d seen of them.

Of the original members, only Ike and Brian had made it to the end. And now they were all gone. Save for Brian.

Her heart ached for him. She’d seen the scars on his leg, they’d brushed against her skin during the night, but she hadn’t looked at them.

Bending over him, she pressed a kiss to his scarred hip, on an area she hadn’t tattooed. She watched his face for any sign of stirring, but the only thing that moved was his morning woody.

Flipping the sheet completely off, she studied his legs. His right one, which was kicked out away from her, was normal, while his left was curled up and had puckered scar tissue and surgery incisions making a network up and down the outside and front. Looking at it caused phantom pains in her own limbs.