THE WILDE SIDE, page 12
Feeling as though she needed an anchor from the storm about to break, she pushed her hands through his hair and twisted her fingers into the soft strands just as wild abandon sang through her body. Her head fell back against the wall, and she cried out as her orgasm crested and a blissful warmth shimmied through her in waves.
Her legs turned to jelly, and just when she was certain she was going to collapse to the floor, Scott smoothed his hands over her bare bottom and grasped the backs of her thighs, bending her knees as he lifted her off the ground.
"Wrap your legs around my waist," he told her, his voice strained with his own barely contained passion.
Feeling drugged with sensuality, she managed that much at least and was amazed at his strength and stamina as he hefted her in his arms and carried her down the hallway to his bedroom when she felt as weak as a newborn kitten.
But he wasn't done with her yet, she knew, as he tumbled her unceremoniously onto the bed, then grabbed her ankles and dragged her to the edge of the mattress so that her legs dangled over the side. Absently, she reached up and skimmed her fingers over her engorged nipples, which were still damp from his mouth and tongue. She teased him, teased herself, and he stared at her half-naked body with hungry eyes, seducing her mind and senses right along with the rest of her.
Not so surprisingly, another bout of desire curled within her as his promise of the various ways he planned to fuck her echoed in her mind, along with her acquiescence so far. She prepared herself for the second round of pleasure, certain he'd be just as ruthless in his attempt to make her come as he'd been moments ago in the foyer.
He dropped to his knees in front of her and pushed her thighs wide open with his splayed palms, then used his thumb to spread open her sex, exposing her completely. He leaned forward, and she closed her eyes, feeling a gust of hot breath, then the velvet soft glide of his tongue along her wet, swollen cleft. He closed his mouth over her, kissing her intimately, deeply, using his tongue in ways that were wonderfully wicked and shockingly erotic. He manipulated her clit with those clever thumbs of his again, pressing, rubbing, stroking, the dual assault soon more than she could stand.
Those familiar tremors undulated through her, his seductive effect on her unescapable. Moaning softly, she gave herself over to the unrelenting suction of his mouth and his swirling, thrusting tongue.
Even before the sweet aftershocks of her orgasm had time to subside he was standing between her legs, towering over her, his fingers ripping open the front placket of his jeans. She watched in dreamy, female appreciation as the finely honed muscles across his well-defined chest and along his arms bunched and flexed with his quick, jerky movements.
Once the buttons were undone, he shoved the denim and his briefs to his thighs. He had his thick cock in his hand, clearly prepared to make good on his last promise, when his entire body tensed, and he swore beneath his breath.
"Shit." He met her gaze, his lips pursed with a hint of agony. "I need a condom."
She had a few packets still left in her purse, which was somewhere in the foyer, but she didn't want to wait that long to feel him inside her – didn't want him to change his mind or allow any precious time for his lust to cool. She wanted him just like this ... all assertive, alpha male.
"I'm on the Pill," she said, giving him permission to be with her, in her, flesh to flesh, with nothing separating them.
Momentary relief eased across his features, and then he moved back between her thighs, hooked his arms beneath the crooks of her knees so she was wide open to him and he was in complete control. The broad head of his shaft glided through her slippery wetness, unerringly found the entrance to her body, and pressed in an excruciating inch.
His face was drawn with such raw, sexual need, and she clutched at the covers at her sides, knowing she was going to need the anchor, knowing that his first driving thrust would be nothing short of searing and utterly earth-shattering.
But nothing could prepare her for the way he came over her more fully and braced his forearms on either side of her shoulders, which kept her splayed legs trapped against the muscled weight of his body, the ungiving strength of his chest. It also made for a tighter fit, she realized, as he speared forward and impaled himself to the hilt, stealing her breath at the same time.
He dropped his head against her neck and groaned as he forced his way deeper, if that was even possible. She shuddered at the sensation of being filled so completely and closed her eyes, her back bowing as he began to move in earnest, his strokes growing faster, harder, stronger....
"Look at me," he demanded in a harsh whisper.
Dazed, she opened her eyes. His face was inches away from hers as he continued to thrust into her, his blue eyes so intense they burned straight to her soul, and she knew in that moment that she'd never be the same again.
He reached up and tangled his fingers in her hair and tugged her scalp back until her neck was arched. He lowered his head, the silk of his hair brushing the underside of her jaw as he lapped at her throat with his warm, wet tongue, then fastened his mouth on a patch of skin and sucked, hard. She gasped as the sensation built to a stinging hot burn, all too aware that he was marking her as his in an elemental, purely masculine way, and there was nothing she could do about it but succumb to his sensual branding.
When he was done, he grazed his lips up to her ear and whispered words that were rough, demanding, and oh-so-explicit.
Come for me.
She was already there, her orgasm slamming into her with the same amount of force that he was. She screamed his name as her entire body convulsed around him, beneath him, milking him to his own completion. He was right there with her, stiffening at the height of her climax, his head thrown back and a low, guttural groan ripping from his throat.
Long minutes later, he released her legs from their awkward position, but didn't move off her, and amazingly, she could still feel him pulsing inside her. He stared down at her, his features still harsh despite the recent release that should have eased the tension thrumming through him.
"So, did you get what you came here for?" he asked gruffly.
And then some, she thought, her body sated and soft beneath his. "I came here for you." She'd come for the closeness, the physical intimacy, the emotional connection that only he seemed to be able to give her. And it had all been there in varying degrees, stunning in its intensity.
"No, you came here to get laid," he said, an unexpected caustic bite to his voice.
His words and tone stung, but she couldn't say that they were undeserved considering their relationship thus far and her penchant for bolting soon after the sexual glow faded and the personal questions started.
She was suddenly struck with the sinking realization of where this confrontation was leading – where it had been heading from the moment she'd stepped into his house and he'd poured so much erotic passion and searing emotion into their joining. Ultimatums were about to be issued – ones she feared she wouldn't be able to own up to.
He pressed his hips to hers, locking their lower bodies even tighter, keeping her pinned beneath him. "Don't leave tonight."
His voice held a direct challenge, and with him still buried so deeply within her, she was oh-so-tempted to stay and wake up in his arms. Her body and heart answered with an unequivocal yes, but it was that voice in the back of her head that reminded her of past failures and disappointments and kept her guarded as well as unable to trust in her decisions when it came to men and relationships.
"I have to go," she said, the words too practiced and automatic.
"No, you don't," he countered heatedly.
She braced her hands against his shoulders to shove him away, to give herself some breathing room when she was beginning to feel suffocated, but he wouldn't budge. "I have no choice!" she cried out.
His hands came up to frame her face, stilling her thrashing movements. His thumbs swept across her warm, flushed cheeks in a way that contradicted the contempt blazing in his gaze. "We all have choices, Ashley, some that are harder to make than others. But some risks are worth taking. And I think out relationship, and what we have together, is worth pursuing. But the thing is, I don't like secrets, and you're surrounded by them. I can't keep going on like this, not knowing who you are."
Her heart pounded so hard it felt as though it might explode in her chest. And all she could do was stare up at him with dread flowing through her veins.
He continued in that same unwavering tone. "I want more with you. I need more than spoken fantasies and a clandestine affair. I've done that before, and I refuse to do it again. I'm falling for you, and I want all or nothing, Ashley, with you a part of my life outside of this bedroom and me a part of yours. I've given you time and space, but you have to be willing to meet me halfway in this, to show me some kind of good faith. Dammit, give me something to believe in."
Tears clogged the back of her throat and burned her eyes as she valiantly tried to fight back the urge to sob. What she'd done with Scott, this affair of theirs, couldn't be translated into real life, her life. She'd known that from the very beginning. But she'd never anticipated that their one-night stand would turn into such an emotional entanglement, one that already had potential scandal written all over it, and to bring their affair out in the open would do more harm than anything else.
They certainly hadn't met under normal, conventional circumstances, and she couldn't imagine explaining to her parents that this was a man she'd picked up in a bar on her birthday. With one family disgrace hanging over her head, she couldn't, wouldn't, risk another, not when she'd spent the past three years making up for her disastrous relationship with Greg.
"You can't do it, can you?" he said with a resigned sigh. "I wish I understood why, but the fact is, I don't. And you're not willing to share. So, this is it, Ashley. I can't do this anymore. I need your honesty and trust, because without it there's nothing between us but sex, and I want so much more with you."
His gruff admission, even while knowing he was most likely facing a rejection, was nearly her undoing.
She never should have come here tonight, never should have contacted him after their first night together. And now, as difficult as it was to accept, she knew she had to let him go, completely. For her to continue seeing him on her terms would be incredibly selfish, as well as unfair to both of them.
When he lowered his mouth to hers, she couldn't resist him, couldn't deny what she suspected would be a final, farewell kiss. Closing her eyes, she opened to him and the slow, sensuous slide of his tongue against hers, as if he was savoring a sweet delicacy because he'd never have the chance to taste it again. His lips were soft and damp, so giving and sincere she wanted to weep. This was no mad rush to intercourse, or even a punishing embrace, but rather an eloquent good-bye that spoke louder than words ever could.
Too soon he ended the kiss and pulled away. He slid from her body, the loss and emptiness she experienced more than physical. Then he straightened her skirt, smoothing it down to her thighs, covering what he'd just taken with such erotic abandon and would never be his again.
"Since it appears you did get exactly what you came here for, now you can leave." He shucked off the pants and briefs that were tangled around his thighs, and standing before her magnificently naked and still aroused, he tossed out one last parting remark. "And if you're ever ready to trust in what we have together, you know where and how to find me, because I certainly don't know how to find you."
With her heart in tattered shreds, she watched him head out the slider leading to the backyard and heard him dive into the pool, knowing this was his way of giving her the chance to walk out of his house with her dignity intact.
And after his insistence that she'd come there only for sex, her pride was about all she had left.
Chapter 8
Madison lay curled up on her side in her big, king-sized bed all alone and in the dark, waiting anxiously for Adam to come upstairs. It was half past ten on Friday night, and he'd just arrived home from work. At least that's where he'd told her he'd be when she'd spoken to him on the phone earlier, before she'd headed off to see Ashley. She desperately wanted to believe that was true, because just thinking of the possibility of her husband having an affair was like a sharp stab to the heart.
Ashley was right. She couldn't jump to wrong conclusions or assume anything, not when she didn't have any evidence to back her fears and angst. Other than staying late at the office more frequently and claiming that a corporate lawsuit had him working overtime in preparing their case, she had no solid, concrete proof that Adam was being unfaithful or doing anything that went against their wedding vows.
She just didn't understand the drastic change in their sex life. Adjusting to having a baby in the house was one thing, but she missed and craved the physical intimacy that had been such a huge part of their relationship before Sophie had been born.
From the beginning of their courtship and into their marriage, Adam had always been a passionate, generous lover – always creative, adventurous, with a sexual appetite that bordered on the erotic. And since she'd been with only one other man before Adam – who'd been a wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am kind of guy – Madison had been immediately drawn to her husband's more aggressive nature.
When it came to Adam and sex, she'd learned to expect, and enjoy, the unexpected. She loved how he'd take the initiative with provocative positions, whether in bed at night or surprising her with a quick tryst in the kitchen with their clothes haphazardly pushed out of the way. He'd get this sexy gleam in his deep green eyes as he approached her with a confident, cocky swagger, and she'd instantly get wet and aroused in anticipation of what he planned to do to her.
She swallowed the hard knot lodged in her throat and pulled the covers beneath her chin. It had been forever since she'd seen that I-have-to-get-inside-you-now look or been on the receiving end of one of Adam's impulsive seductions. Now when they made love, he seemed so careful, so overtly gentle with her, as if he was afraid she'd break if he dared to unleash that wilder side of his.
She didn't understand that change in him, either.
Hearing Adam's slow, tired footsteps as he climbed the stairs to their bedroom, her heart picked up its beat. She was facing away from the door and him, but she knew the moment he entered the room; that's how in tune she was to her husband. Awareness took hold as he began undressing in the shadowed darkness, taking care to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake her. Then, in keeping to his normal evening routine, he enclosed himself in the bathroom, and the shower turned on.
She closed her eyes and remembered the many times he'd joined her in the shower in the past, always a pleasant, welcome surprise that turned into a hot, steamy encounter. It wasn't difficult to imagine herself there with him now, stepping naked into the glass enclosure and letting her soapy hands run over his lean body, but she couldn't bring herself to make such a bold, brazen move.
The fact was, she'd been the passive one in their relationship when it came to sex, always reaping the benefits of her husband's hot ardor, but never taking the initiative herself. She'd never had to. Adam had always been hot-blooded and assertive enough for the both of them.
At least until Sophie had come along.
Since then, their lives had changed; for the better because they were on their way to creating the family they both wanted, and for the worse when it came to stealing intimate moments together. Sleepless nights and being tired during the day was a given with a baby, and she could deal with that. But after six months of making love only a handful of times when she was used to more, it was as though the spark between them had fizzled, and she had no idea how to recapture the romance and spontaneity she missed so much.
As the water in the bathroom switched off, she mulled over her sister's advice to tell Adam how she felt. But the truth was, she'd never had to confront any major problems in their marriage, never had to deal with emotional issues with Adam, and because of that, she didn't know how to express her feelings.
Maybe it was time she tried, because Lord knew she couldn't continue on like this.
Minutes later, Adam exited the bathroom, still trying to be quiet and considerate as he eased under the covers on his side of the bed, careful not to disturb her sleep. When he'd finally made himself comfortable, she rolled over toward him, so that they were face-to-face and about a foot apart.
There was enough moonlight streaming through the window for her to see his gorgeous features, his watchful eyes as they stared at her, and the full, sensual lips she longed to feel and taste beneath hers.
Keen desire fluttered through her, spreading warmth across her breasts, into the pit of her stomach, and between her thighs. "Hi," she whispered huskily.
His exhaustion was evident in his faint, weary smile. "I'm sorry," he murmured. "I didn't mean to wake you up. Go back to sleep."
She didn't want to go back to sleep, and when he leaned across the scant distance separating them to brush a chaste good-night kiss across her cheek, she turned her head at the last moment so her lips met his. She could tell that her bold move had taken him off guard and surprised him a little, but he didn't immediately pull back.
Emboldened by his response, she slipped her fingers through his soft, thick hair and cupped the back of his head in her hand. Her lips parted, inviting him inside, and after a tentative moment he glided his tongue into her mouth. The kiss progressed languidly, a damp, sensuous sliding of lips and tongues, a leisurely exploration and savoring of tastes and textures.
Too soon, she ached for more than his slow, sweet kisses.
With her body straining toward his, she silently encouraged him to touch her. He moved closer, gently eased her onto her back, and slid a leg between hers so that he was half covering her, his body deliciously warm and solid and oh-so-tempting. Beneath his boxer shorts, she could feel his hard erection against her hip, and the thought of him being inside her, stroking hard and deep, sent a delightful, rippling thrill straight to the core of her femininity.
