Too Hard to Handle, page 25
Before she knew what he was about, he released the collar of her sweater so he could grab the hem and whip the garment over her head. With an expertise that was both amazing and a little annoying—just how many bras has he taken off in his life?—he flicked open the clasp of her bra and dragged it from her shoulders, tossing it next to the sweater on the tile floor.
And then there she was. Naked. Again. Well, mostly naked anyway. There were still her pesky jeans and panties and socks to worry about—they’d both kicked off their boots before climbing onto his bed to eat the hot dogs.
Her reflection in the mirror revealed the rise and fall of her breasts as her breaths came short and fast. She’d never really thought of her boobs as anything to write home about. Sure, they were round and firm. But they were also a little on the small side. And her nipples were tiny. The areolas almost nonexistent around the buds of the nipples themselves, especially when they were puckered with desire, like they were now.
But when Dan looked at her, when he reverently cupped her from behind, his thumbs seeking the extended tips, she saw herself through his eyes. And she felt…beautiful. Soft and feminine. Flawlessly creamy and sensuously erotic. She shivered within the circle of his embrace, under the expertise of his hands and fingers.
“God, Penni,” he murmured, his face next to hers, his eyes watching what his hands were doing. “You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous you make me harder than I’ve ever been before.”
As if to prove his point, he flexed his hips forward, driving her thighs into edge of the counter and rubbing the length of himself against her ass. It was incredibly sexy, carnal even, watching what he was doing to her at the same time she was feeling it. He must have thought so too. Because he never took his eyes off her, off the reflected images of her breasts in his hands.
Her skin looked milky white compared to his long, tan fingers. And the contrast between the rough calluses and scars on the backs of his hands, and the flawless flesh of her breasts was stark. He was man. Battle-scarred and tough. And she was woman. Soft and pliant.
He caught her sensitive nipples between his thumb and forefingers and gently plucked. She would swear she felt the sensation directly between her thighs. A rush of blood swelled her sex. A surge of wetness slicked her core, readying her for what was to come when finally, finally, the two of them would be together. Taking their time. Enjoying the pleasure and desire that had raged between them from the beginning.
She moaned her encouragement, rubbing her bottom against the steely shaft that throbbed so insistently.
“You want more?” he asked, watching her reactions.
“God, yes,” she hissed. When it came to him, when it came to this, she had no pride. Only need. Only want.
He released one of her breasts so he could turn her chin. And then…oh, and then he kissed her. In that Dan way. Like a conqueror. Like a gladiator. All pillage and plunder and no waiting for permission.
The slick glide of his tongue into her mouth mimicked the motion of his hand at her breast. Every time he pushed past her teeth, he plucked her nipple. And eventually, she couldn’t distinguish one form of pleasure from the other. It was all tangled up, tied up together. Her heart beat wildly against her rib cage. Her stomach quivered with want. Goose bumps peppered her skin, making the nerve endings beneath hyperaware so that every brush of his fingers, every hot rush of his breath was both agony and ecstasy.
“Dan…” His name was sigh, prayer, and entreaty.
“Tell me what you want,” he whispered against her ear after he’d released her chin. His eyes pinned hers in the mirror, refusing to let her look away, refusing to let her hide.
“It’s your turn to tell me what you want,” she reminded him, her voice soft and low and full. “We were interrupted the last time, remember?”
He squeezed his eyes closed and moaned, rubbing himself against her. She knew the friction had to be building the ache as much as relieving it. “Yes, I remember.” His voice was barely above a growl. “I remember you down on your knees in front of me. I remember the feel of your soft hands wrapped around my cock. I remember your succulent mouth opening.”
“Is that what you want again?” she asked, watching his eyes flutter open. His lids hung at half-mast, a strong muscle twitched in his beard-stubbled jaw.
“What I want would shock you,” he said. It felt a little like a challenge.
“Tell me,” she whispered, arching back into him, increasing the friction of their bodies.
For a while he simply held her gaze in the mirror. She could tell he was debating, wondering if she could handle the bald truth of his wants. She held her breath, waiting, hoping he would tell her. She loved the thought of him trusting her enough to show her his most lustful, lascivious side.
She got her wish when he finally admitted, “I want to fuck you from behind and watch your face in the mirror while you come.”
Sweet heavenly father! Just the sound of it, just the thought of it, had her womanhood contracting, pulsing, aching. “Then do it,” she told him, unconsciously reaching up to rub the bump on the bridge of her nose. “Do exactly that.”
Who are you? And what have you done with Penni DePaul? It was a valid question considering she wasn’t an adventurous lover. Or, at least…she’d never been one before. But maybe that’s because she’d never been with a man who made her feel safe enough to be adventurous.
Dan made her feel safe. He made her feel adventurous. He made her feel…so many things. All the things.
His throat made a sticky sound when he swallowed, his eyes searching hers in the mirror. “But don’t you want me to—”
“Do it,” she interrupted him, her breaths coming fast and hard, her nipples standing high and tight. “Just like you said. That’s what I want.”
“Fuck me,” he groaned, grabbing her hips and thrusting against her ass like he couldn’t help himself. Like he had to rub himself against her or he would die.
She caught her lip between her teeth and grinned—even she would say her reflection looked sexy, coquettish; and she’d never claimed to be either in her entire life. “I thought the plan was for you to fuck me,” she said.
Chapter Nineteen
Dan could not believe his good luck…
Penni was everything he’d dreamed about and more. He’d known she was sensual and passionate from their time in Kuala Lumpur. But he’d never guessed she was a sex kitten on steroids. Just when he thought he’d pushed her past the point of comfort, she surprised him by meeting him there and then taking it a step further. She was the perfect foil for him sexually.
And she was waiting.
Tomorrow he would probably scold himself for not taking his time when he undressed her. He pulled her jeans, panties, and socks off in one go and shoved them all aside with a careless foot. And he would definitely want to kick his own ass for not trying to be sexier when he disrobed for her. Instead of slowly undoing the button on his pants, teasingly drawing down the zipper to increase the anticipation, he shucked his drawers in record time and whipped off his sweater like it was on fire.
The bad thing about all that was he didn’t savor the removal of each piece of clothing, glorying in each new inch of skin that was revealed. The good thing about all that was now they were both buck naked. And it was about damn time. He’d been waiting, fantasizing about the moment when there would be nothing between them. No barrier of clothing. No impediment for his seeking hands and mouth to overcome. Just flaming hot skin to flaming hot skin.
His reflection in the mirror looked huge compared to hers. Where her shoulders were narrow, his were broad. Where her arms were lithe and lovely, his were bulging and roped with sinew and veins. Where she was soft and delicate and smooth, he was hard and heavy and rough. Put together the disparity between them was…beautiful, sexy, highlighting the differences between male and female, man and woman.
“Do it.” She braced her hands on the counter and shoved her sweet, round ass back at him. “Just like you said.” Anticipation and desire made her voice breathy and rough.
When she bent over, her delicate breasts swung forward like ripe fruit. He wanted to pluck them, taste them, tease them. And he would. He so would. But first…
“Spread your legs,” he commanded, his dick bobbing in time to his heartbeat. When she obeyed without hesitation, he growled his approval, smoothing his hand over her ass, noting the satiny texture of her skin, its warmth, and the subtle flush that pinkened it. She shivered, her eyes reflecting back at him when he glanced into the mirror. The chocolaty brown pools were liquid with need, hot with desire.
“Are you ready for me, Brooklyn?” he rumbled. Yes, rumbled. That was the only way to describe what had happened to his voice. It seemed to be coming up from the very depths of him, where he was full and heavy with a dark craving.
“Yes,” she swore, shoving back into his caressing hand, wiggling slightly in invitation.
He could see that she was telling the truth. The folds of her bare sex were swollen and pink. An enchanting solicitation that eons of civilization had yet to conquer. When a man saw that, all his faculties scrambled. He became no better than an ape in the forest, one and only one thing on his mind. Mate. Now.
But Dan was able to avert the urge to spread her ass cheeks and womanhood and plunge inside because he knew he’d get there. And soon too. But first he wanted to test her, to feel how hot she was for him, how wet.
“Let’s check to make sure,” he said huskily, turning his hand so he could slide two fingers over her, into her.
“Dan!” She moaned his name and it was a siren’s call.
The tips of his two middle fingers were poised just inside her entrance, and she was so hot she singed his skin. So wet she made his dick pulse and ache. A drop of passion gathered at his swollen tip, rolling over his head and down the length of his shaft. It was a tease and a caress. He shuddered at how painfully sensitive his skin was.
“More,” she demanded, pushing back against his hand. “Give me more.”
God. He loved it when she started spouting orders.
“Like this?” he asked, sliding his fingers inside her to his middle knuckles. She was so unbelievably soft, so satisfyingly responsive. At the intrusion of his fingers, her walls closed around him, pulsing, grasping as if she was welcoming him in, pulling him deeper, squeezing him tight.
“More.” She wiggled her ass. Seeing the move, feeling the move made his cock throb so hard he was afraid for a moment there that the tip of his head had blown off. Once he assured himself that wasn’t the case, he gave her what she was asking for, seating himself to the last knuckle.
“Christ, yesssss,” she hissed, closing her eyes and letting her head fall back.
She was ready. More than ready. So he began to pump. Slowly and softly at first. And then harder. Faster. She rode his hand unabashedly, meeting him stroke for stroke, her small breasts swaying, her soft pink nipples having darkened to a tantalizing rose. A deep flush bloomed over her collarbones and snaked up her throat into her face. Her mouth was open. Her breaths coming shallow and harsh. She no longer cared how she looked; she was concentrating everything she had on the pleasure he was giving her. But for the record? She looked amazing. So fucking sexy and erotic as she worked with him toward her own release.
“That’s it,” he crooned, the muscles and tendons in his forearm standing out as he pumped faster. He felt her walls contract around him once. A second time. He reached forward and caught her pebbled nipple, giving the tender bud a squeeze. She cried out and started unraveling. He felt her body clamping down on his fingers as she bathed his hand in her desire.
“Jesus,” he breathed, his heart roaring, his breaths labored, his head spinning. “Jesus, Brooklyn. You’re so damned sexy.”
She didn’t respond. She couldn’t. She was in that wonderful orgasmic twilight when the body only functioned to shimmer with undulating waves of ebbing pleasure.
It’s time. Time to make her all mine, just like I’ve dreamed. Finally. Finally.
Keeping his fingers inside her, softly moving them in and out to draw out the very last vestiges of ecstasy, he used his other hand to pull open the drawer on the vanity and extract a condom from inside. Tearing off the foil packaging with his teeth, he hissed when he placed the rubber ring around the throbbing head of his cock. He was so hard he hurt, his skin stretched so tight it was shiny. Then he fisted the condom down his length, pleasure bubbling at the base of his spine from the friction of his own palm.
When he looked up, he saw her eyes were open—well half-open, anyway—and sparkling back at him in the mirror. “That was…” she breathed, an enchanting grin pulling at the corners of her gorgeous mouth, “lovely.”
He realized he was grinning back at her and quirked a brow. “You wanna make it even lovelier?” he challenged.
“Oh, yes.” She nodded, catching her bottom lip between her teeth.
“Good.” He slowly removed his hand, watching the retreat with hungry, avid eyes, watching as his fingers came away wet with her climax. Fisting himself, he gritted his jaw against the pleasure as he used her wetness to moisten his latex-covered shaft. Then he placed one hand on the small of her back and used the other to grab his thick base and bend himself forward.
When the plump head of his cock kissed her entrance, he saw her body open and flower around him, as if eager to draw him in. Her next words proved her need. “Please, Dan. I want you inside me. I need you inside me.”
That’s what he wanted too. What he needed too. But he also wanted to draw it out, this wonderful, carnal moment of joining. So he gripped her hip to keep her from thrusting back at him, and slowly, ever-so-slowly, inched forward, watching her body swallow him, seeing her part and stretch around his girth. It was agony. It was ecstasy. It was elemental and ethereal. Both corporeal and spiritual.
It’s so right…
And there was that word again. He couldn’t escape it. Didn’t want to escape it, he realized with a start.
“Jesus, you’re tight,” he swore, her body squeezing him like a hot, satin-gloved fist.
“You’re big,” was her retort and he caught the devilish gleam of her eyes in the mirror’s reflection.
“That too,” he agreed. And he was doing it again. Grinning like an idiot.
Of course his grin melted away when he grabbed her shoulder for leverage, pulling her back at the same time he thrust forward. Her quickly indrawn breath mingled with the sound of his low groan. He was seated to the hilt. Totally surrounded by her. Totally immersed in her. Totally enslaved by her. And it was heaven.
“Wait,” she said breathlessly, reaching back to grab his hip. The bite of her little nails into his flesh—a warning—was just as much pleasure as it was pain. “Just let me…” She swallowed, holding his eyes in the mirror. “Give me a second to get used to it, okay?”
“S-sure,” he was able to grit out, remaining stock-still even though every instinct he had told him to thrust. Hard. Fast. Over and over until the orgasm building inside him exploded. Until the world around him ceased to exist.
Her inner muscles shimmered around his shaft like a million tiny fingers, touching, squeezing, caressing. But he waited. And then he waited some more as she simply braced herself and breathed. It felt like an eternity, but was probably only a few seconds. Finally, he ground out, “You’re killing me, woman.”
He didn’t like the slightly plaintive tone of his voice, but there was nothing he could do about it. The pleasure of being inside her and not moving was torture. Beautiful, exquisite, soul-shaking torture.
“Okay.” She nodded. “Okay. I’m ready.”
She’d barely gotten the last word out before he was sliding from her body, slowly, closing his eyes against the delicious friction. He continued to retreat, glancing down to see his shaft emerging from her snug grip, shiny with her welcome and her passion. When the flared edge of his head peeked from her pink opening, he gritted his teeth and pressed back home in one hard, unapologetic thrust.
She groaned when his plump tip pressed against the end of her channel and the opening to her womb. It took everything he had to hold himself still and ask, “Y’okay?”
“Oh, yes,” she assured him, wiggling slightly, rubbing his head deep inside her. The smell of sex filled the room, the decadent scent of hot skin and needy bodies. And mixing through it all was the sweet aroma of rosewater. It would always, for the rest of his life, remind him of her. “Yes. More, please.”
“With pleasure,” he assured her, pulling out and setting a rhythm that was meant to slowly drive her to the edge of ecstasy again—and drive him to insanity. Over and over he thrust, the friction more delectable with each pass. The desire building with each hot, wet glide.
He could feel her building beneath him. Feel her body sucking at him in greedier and greedier pulls. His orgasm was a living thing now, roaring and growling and begging for release. He held it at bay. Pushed it back and down because he wanted them to come together. He wanted them to jump together. He wanted to see the pleasure on her face at the same time he felt its prurient pull inside his own body.
“Oh God. Dan!” She had one hand braced on the counter as he pumped into her. The other hand was on his hip, egging him on, encouraging him harder, faster. He obliged, reaching around her and sliding his middle finger between her folds. When he found the swollen nub, he rubbed it in circles. Thrusting and rubbing. Thrusting and rubbing. Taking them higher and higher until he could feel her body coiling, her muscles tensing. The sound of flesh slapping against flesh filled the room, competed with their harsh breathing.
“I’m going to c-come,” she warned.
“Good,” he groaned, feeling his own pleasure building, building, building. It burned deep inside his testicles, raced along his shaft. “Yes, Brooklyn! Let’s come together!”
“Oh God!” she cried again, her head falling to hang between her shoulders and little pulses, like the flutter of butterfly wings, started gripping his shaft.
