Wicked All Night (5 page)

The pick-up line barely registered with his thick male flesh bobbing in her face, its big plum head nearly purple. She had to scrape her jaw off the floor when he wrapped his hand around the stiff column and stroked slowly, visually teasing her.
So sexy.
What would he feel like in her palm? The musky scent of him rising toward her seemed more concentrated and mysterious between his legs. His testicles were big and heavy.

She was desperate to touch him.

After watching the slow, hypnotic motion of his thick fingers sliding up and down his sensitive sex, Rachel ached to do that to Decker and make him feel good.

With a fortifying breath, she forced down her nervousness, shoved his hand out of her way, and gripped the hot, hard stalk of flesh. Her fingers didn't quite meet when she encircled him. Slowly, she stroked up, swiping her thumb over the head. He clenched his teeth and hissed in a breath, hardening even more in her hand.

A tremor of need shook her. Her folds became more than a little damp.

“Damn, beautiful. That's so good. Unless you're looking to finish me off with your hand, I wouldn't do that for much longer.”

Eventually, she might want that with a lover, but now she wanted to be with Decker more than simply watch him.

“Not what I had in mind.” She shook her head.

“Then what are you going to do with me?”

His words ended with a moan, and the sound went straight between her legs.

Good question.
Exactly what did she want? She frowned, coming up blank. The truth was, she didn't know.

The obvious was to put his big, silky shaft in her mouth and suck. She'd heard men liked that. It sounded exciting . . . a little forbidden—at least to her. She'd never done it. Owen thought fifteen minutes for sex was too long, so they'd never lingered. As much as she wished for the confidence to just wrap her lips around him, she wasn't the sort to climb all over a guy. And she had no idea what Decker would truly like or enjoy. A vague shame overtook her that she hadn't asked even once. Sex was supposed to be a two-way street. Hadn't Owen's lack of communication taught her that?

“What are your suggestions?” Rachel hoped he had plenty. Clearly, she was clueless and lost now that her big take-charge plan didn't seem to be working.

“That you let me show you.” When she opened her mouth to argue, he knelt and put a finger to her lips. “I know you want to experience new things. I'm guessing you haven't had many lovers.”

“Just Owen.”

Understanding softened his face. Rachel didn't know how someone so angular and male could look so gentle.

“How are you supposed to know what turns you on most if you've never experienced it? We'll still experiment, but let's turn this around. Give me control. If you don't like something, you just tell me. We'll try something else.”

“But I let Owen control everything, and it was a disaster.”

“I'm not your ex-idiot.”

No, but
 . . . “I can't be upset that sex is never what I want if I don't play an active role.”

“You will, and it's hot that you want to. But to start, I think your active role should be to tell me what you like. For instance, you can tell me if you'd rather have your nipples caressed, pinched, or something else. Maybe you're not even sensitive there, but we'll find out. Then you can tell me if you like my mouth on your pussy, if you like to be kissed while I fuck you, or if you enjoy bondage.”

Rachel felt her eyes widen. And her body begin to overheat.

“Yes, we're going to do all that and more.” He cupped her thigh. “You're assuming I'm as inept as Owen. I promise, beautiful, that I won't let you down. I know we just met a few hours ago, but I'm about to become your lover. If we're going to make that work, you've got to trust me with your body or this is going nowhere.”

A really good point . . .

“It's not that I don't trust you.”

“Oh?” He grinned. “Well, if it's not that, then you're just naturally a control freak?”

She felt heat flood her cheeks. “I'll . . . um, plead the fifth.”

With a lopsided smile, he stood, unfolding every inch of that mouthwateringly male body. The slightest inhalation made his abs ripple. His biceps flexed when he held out his hand to her. “Come with me.”

How the devil was she supposed to say no to that?

Rachel put her hand in his, and he squeezed it. “Lead the way.”
Show me what to do.

He hesitated. “Is your bedroom down the hall?”

“Yes.” She smiled faintly. “I actually feel so comfortable with you that I'd forgotten you don't know where anything is. Come with me, then you can take over.”

Decker linked their fingers, then bent to scoop up his pants. She led him past the darkened rooms lining the hallway, then into her shadowy bedroom. She debated flipping on the lamp sitting on her nightstand. Did he want to see her? Would he rather be in the dark?

“You're thinking and not communicating,” he pointed out as he set the jeans aside and drew her into his arms, against him.

“One of the perils of being a teacher. I can't say everything I think in a classroom.”

“I'll bet.” He kissed her nose playfully, then her cheek, moving toward her ear. “Trust, remember?”

“Yeah. Got it.”

“You're nervous.”

Why deny the obvious? “It's been almost two years, since just before Owen and I separated.”

“A beautiful woman should be pleasured well and often. But I don't think that's the only issue.
I
make you nervous.”

He didn't ask; he knew. “There were prettier girls at the bar.”

“No.” He shook his head. “There were easier girls at the bar. When you're twenty-one, yeah, that's great. A few drinks, a joke or two, and you'll probably get lucky. By the time a guy is thirty, he's looking for some substance along with a girl's great rack. By then, he's figured out that he likes a little conversation afterward, too.”

Rachel rolled her eyes, but felt a smile crease her face. “So how old are you?”

“Old enough to enjoy talking to you,” he drawled, nipping at her earlobe. “Later . . .”

Which probably meant he was over thirty. If not, he'd be with someone named Barbie or Tawny having much less conversation. But the answer didn't really matter now, especially not when he brushed his lips over her throat. Goodness, that sent an electric shiver through her body.

“I don't know anything about you,” she protested.

“Do you want to know my date of birth and blood type or do you want to know what I feel like when I'm fucking my way deep inside your aching pussy?”

DECKER'S QUESTION TURNED HER SHIVER INTO A SHUDDER.
Rachel's breath caught. Heat slid through her. Blood rushed to her nipples. “Th-the latter.”

“That's what I thought. We'll talk soon about why you seem to want to analyze everything. It's chemistry, beautiful. Let it burn.” He curled his fingers around the belt of her little silk robe and tugged. “Now I want to see those hard nipples all naked and ready for my mouth. Drop the robe.”

A thrill curled through her belly, even as hesitation strangled it. She ached to be everything he wanted. She wished she could be wanton enough to just enjoy the moment. But . . .

“What is it? Talk to me.” He cupped her cheek.

“I'm . . . lost. Owen never liked to be totally naked for sex. Too earthy for him.”

“
What?
Did he actually like sex?”

She shrugged. “Since he always had orgasms, I assumed he had a good time.”

“I'm not so sure.” He scoffed.

“Owen always wanted me to shower first, then come to bed dressed in something like this.” Rachel tugged on her robe.

Decker snorted. “Then he told you to get in bed, climbed on top of you in the dark, and the sex was over in three minutes before he told you to shower again and come to bed? A week or two later, he'd repeat the process?”

She gaped at him. “How did you guess?”

“I'm getting a picture here. No wonder you're repressed and confused if you've never known anything else. What a douche bag.”

“He's just . . . His brain revolves around science. He's not really into ‘typical' stuff. He hates TV, cocktail parties, shopping. He thinks romance is trite and—”

“Sex is a bodily function that should be performed in the minimum amount of time?”

“Something like that.”

“Then he didn't care about your feelings.” Decker pressed flush against her, his erection a thick ridge prodding her belly, and took her face in his hands. “I'm going to show you how it should be. I'm not going to put my cock anywhere near your pussy until you're dripping wet and beyond ready. That's a promise.”

His wicked words made her fluttery inside, like a horde of butterflies were break dancing. “Thank you for understanding. Most guys would have given up long ago, I'll bet.”

He stroked her cheek. “It's just you and me. I don't care what any other guy would do, especially Owen. So if you're ready to move on and have sex instead of talking . . .”

As Decker yanked at the belt of her robe, she looked up at him through the shadows, then over at the little lamp on her nightstand.

He planted a hand in her hair and tugged. “Focus on me. If I want the lamp on, I'll take care of it. Right now, I don't give a damn about the setting. I care about pleasing you. I can't do it if you're half clothed and overthinking. You're nervous. You don't know me well. You've never done this with anyone who knows how to make you feel good. You're having a hard time letting go. I get all that. But you've got to let me try.”

Rachel squeezed her eyes shut. Decker was utterly, totally right. She had to get out of her head and stop thinking about what she was used to. He'd shown her in every way that he wanted to be here with her, and had the experience and patience to give her pleasure.

With a nod, she shoved the lid on all her insecurities and worked the knot of her belt loose. She parted the silk a sliver, watching Decker watch her. He looked so sexy—intent male ready to conquer. His desire wrapped around her and caressed her skin. Her breath came hard, fast.

She peeled the robe from her shoulders. With only a whisper of sound, it slithered to the carpet beneath her feet. She stood before a man she hadn't known when she'd eaten dinner tonight, wearing nothing more than a tiny pair of black panties. Only very damp lace separated him from her secret flesh. He stared, his blue eyes darkening with hunger in the shadowed room. A shiver of thrill went through her when she thought about his reaction to what he hadn't yet seen.

“Fuck,” he muttered, lifting his hand to her. “You're beyond beautiful.”

“Really?”

Shut up!
Rachel cursed her own uncertainty. Owen had called her chubby and chided her for her love of Italian food and an occasional piece of chocolate. Decker seemed to like the way she was put together. His warm fingers cradled her breast, his thumb brushing so close to her nipple . . . She dragged in a shuddering breath as heat burned through her.

“Gorgeous. Voluptuous.” He bent and nuzzled her neck, pressing his lips to her. “So innocent looking. Every time you bat your lashes at me, I get hard. When I feel you tremble in my arms, it takes everything I have not to toss you to the bed and have my wicked way with you.”

His fingers tightened just a fraction on her breast before he cursed softly. Then he gripped her neck and positioned her directly under him as his lips crashed over hers. The sensation jolted her, an immediate zing of desire. Rachel melted against Decker and opened to him entirely, meeting every possessive thrust and teasing retreat. She whimpered into his kiss, wrapped her arms around his neck, all but purring at the feel of his hot skin plastered against her.

Then he backed her toward the bed, his persistent kiss flavored with impatience and demand. Already, he was unraveling her. Less than thirty seconds and Rachel felt herself turning to putty.

Arousal. She'd read about it, even felt little tremors of it when she self-pleasured. But Decker was unleashing an earthquake of need inside her. It was rocking her every notion about sex, along with her world.

He helped her onto the bed, his mouth still on hers as he crawled after her. His huge, hard body covered her own, blasting heat through her as he gently abraded her nipples with the fine hair across his chest. More dusted his legs, and as he pressed them against her inner thighs to open her wide for his invasion, the sensation was so foreign . . . amazing. Her vocabulary was almost inadequate to describe the awakening of every nerve and cell in her body, the tingling of her skin, the pounding of her heart, the rightness flowing through her body.

A year shy of thirty, and she'd never quite understood what it meant to be a woman taken by a man. As Decker ravaged her lips with yet another deep kiss, taking everything she gave while plying her with more pleasure, she began to grasp the concept. Pure sensation wrapped her up—and finally she comprehended just how two lovers shared sex. Heartbeats and breaths mingled as they touched palm-to-palm. They exchanged an entire wealth of longing with a stare, without uttering a word. And that was before they joined bodies.

How was it possible that she felt closer and more in tune with the stranger she'd met hours ago than the man she'd been married to for nearly four years?

Rachel didn't know, but she was done questioning it. She bent her knees around his hips, letting him deeper into the cradle of her body, and held on for dear life as a joy way beyond pleasure flowed through her.

Decker's rough palms skimmed down her side, anchoring his hand on her hip. “I want inside you so bad. But I want to show you what you've been missing more.”

She had almost no time to process what those shiver-worthy words meant before he worked his way down her body. His mouth hovered just above her nipples, his hot breath caressing them. The blood strained into the hard tips until they felt tight and tingly.

“Tell me what feels good so I can send you soaring.”

She gave him a shaky nod, raking her fingers through the inky strands of his dark hair. “All right.”

He didn't waste any more time or words. Instead, Decker just fastened his lips around her left nipple. Soft, slow, sleek . . . the touch was part exploration, part torment. Rachel arched up into his mouth with a little cry of need.

“You like that?”

“Hmm . . . yes.”

Her hips moved restlessly, and she filtered her fingers through his hair again, reveling in its softness and wishing it was long enough to wrap in her fist and make him taste her nipple once more. Thankfully, she didn't have to prompt him again to pay attention to her breasts. He lapped at their tips, nipped, teased . . . tormented. Every lick and suck became its own form of torture. Ecstasy. Agony. A need for more burst through her, igniting her blood.

Decker eased back for a moment and stared at her nipples unabashedly. Under his scrutiny, they seemed to fill and tighten even more, as if eager to display themselves for him.

“So damn pretty,” he whispered over the distended peak, thumbing the other. “So lush.”

Rachel whimpered.
So ready for more
 . . .

“You feel it, don't you?”

She nodded frantically.

“You're wet for me, aren't you?”

“Yes.”
Almost embarrassingly so.

A smile creased his face. He turned to rub his whiskered cheek against her swelling breast, her sensitive nipple. The scratchy-soft abrasion added another level of sensation, and she arched, grabbing at him.

“Sensitive.” His voice rang with approval.

“I never thought so. I mean, I've never . . .”

“Responded to having your nipples stimulated?”

She frowned until he set his mouth over them again. “No one's ever really touched . . . I can't think when you do that.”

“Good. Just feel. I want you to let me have my fill of your nipples. I want you to get so wet for me that when I put my mouth on your pussy, I'll have a feast that will take me a long time to devour. I want you so close, ready, and eager that when I start fucking you, you won't be able to stop screaming.”

His words alone took her desire higher. The tight beat of need under her clit became an incessant throb. A few hours ago, she would have doubted that he—or anyone else—could make her feel this way. But Decker, whose last name she hadn't even asked, knew exactly how to give her body everything she'd ever fantasized about.

She was going to end her birthday a really happy woman.

“Hurry!” she panted.

But he took his sweet time tonguing his way around her areola, then brushing his fingers over the damp flesh. He came closer and closer to the aching tips until he finally sucked them in deep. The sensation darted straight between her legs again and again like a live wire. She shuddered in his arms with the jolt of desire.

“Hurrying defeats the purpose, and you're not making the demands here. You're lying back and taking everything I give you and waiting eagerly for more.”

Holding in a whimper, Rachel stared up at him, blinking, breathless . . . captivated. Everything about his strong face and the desire tightening it screamed powerful male. Beyond aroused now, she ached to feel Decker deep inside her.

His bare hands gripped her hips with possessive fervor and seared her flesh. She sighed raggedly and closed her eyes, basking in the sensations piling on top of her, one after the other, until she swore she was about to combust. Or beg. This much pleasure was beyond her experience or comprehension, and she didn't for one moment believe she'd handled all he could dish out.

A hot flush rolled through her body. Rachel breathed in the musky scent of his skin and couldn't look away from his cocky smile, complete with a flash of white teeth that she found beyond sexy. She dug her fingers into his shoulders and lifted her hips to him, willing him to ease the empty ache coiling between her restless legs.

“You look good all flushed and sweet. Innocent.” He breathed over her nipples, still toying, arousing, owning them. “I'll fix that.”

Rachel assumed he was kidding, but Decker didn't smile or wink.
Mercy . . .
Remembering the feel of him, steely and sizzling in her palm, made her skin tingle with anticipation as she imagined just exactly how good he would feel stretching and filling her—helping her finally understand the give and take of lovers straining for the common purpose of sharing wrenching, clawing pleasure.

“Please . . .”

“Ah, begging. Always sweet, but especially tempting coming from you. I think I'm going to want more. Let me see what I can do.” His smile was predatory and pleased, but somehow still set her at ease. “Take off the panties.”

Rachel wanted to—really. Once she did, she'd be one step closer to fulfillment. But she had a surprise . . .

“Let me up for one second. I want to show you something.”

Decker hesitated. He didn't want to. As easygoing as he'd been at the bar, that was how forceful he seemed now. And she might be in over her head, but that didn't stop Rachel from wanting him.

“A second, no longer.” He eased off the bed with obvious reluctance. His hands didn't leave her bare skin until he stood too far away to touch her.

Scooting off the bed, she brushed past him with a pounding heart, full of yearning and apprehension.

Finally, Rachel inched past him just far enough for him to view her backside, then glanced over her shoulder at him, only to find his stare glued to her butt.

“Holy shit,” he muttered. “That's gorgeous.”

Remembering the big, silky black bow that played peekaboo with her pale cheeks, she smiled. His approval spiked bliss inside her. She'd always liked helping and doing for others, but this . . . was different. This sense of thrill was more personal.

Of course when she'd bought these panties from a catalog about six months ago, she'd been pretty sure that madness had finally overtaken her. Now she was glad she'd succumbed to the impulse. His bulging stare and damn near speechless reaction felt so sweetly fabulous.

“Do you want to unwrap me?” Rachel whispered, watching him from under lowered lashes as she wiggled her hips just slightly.

He cocked a dark brow and dragged his gaze to her face. “If I tug on this ribbon, these will come off?”

That possibility obviously excited him. Impatience pinged off of him—and boosted her confidence.