He was so sexy, so strong; his big hands dark against her white flanks, the tendons standing out on his throat. He studied their image in the mirror, fascinated, one brown hand sliding up to caress her breasts, the other delving into her damp puff of blond pubic hair.
She watched herself, astonished. Her face was rosy, wanton, almost frightened. And as she watched, he reached around and pulled her up against him, her head flung back against his shoulder, open and arched back like a bow. He pulsed his hips against her with slow, controlled strength while his long fingers coaxed, caressed, undid her. Sent her flying over the top in an erotic cascade of hot, bursting pleasure.
When she could frame a coherent thought again, he had pushed her back down onto her hands again, and was thrusting hard and deep. “So beautiful,” he muttered. “Your cunt clutches at me like a wet little fist when you come. I love it. You are unbelievable, Raine. Red hot.”
Amazingly, the fierce desire began to spiral up again. She arched back and worked herself against him frantically, frightened at the intensity of the explosion gathering inside her. He followed, his instincts unerring, gathering speed and force and giving her exactly what she needed to detonate the charge. One final hard, relentless push, and she hurtled, headlong and yelling, into another orgasm.
He grabbed a handful of her hair, winding it through his fingers. “Open your eyes,” he urged. “Watch me while I fuck you, Raine.”
She opened her eyes, gasping for breath. “Oh, stop being a cave man,” she snapped. “The hair-pulling is over the top, even for you.”
He grinned, tightened his grip on her hair and pulled her head to one side, biting her on her damp neck. “You love it,” he said, watching her with each hard thrust. “Me Tarzan, you Raine.”
The goofy little line was so out of context in the dark, complex dynamic of their love play that it shocked a peal of helpless laughter out of her. Her laughter melted instantly into tears, and she collapsed forward, laughing and sobbing. She heard his voice against her ear, but couldn't understand his words. Then his anxious, pleading tone sank in.
“Don't cry on me. Raine, for God's sake. Please. I can't handle it”
“That's just tough,” she said, laughing through her tears. “If you don't like it, go find some girl who doesn't care as much.”
He pushed her down until she was lying on her belly and covered her gentry from behind, curving around her and surrounding her with his warmth. The carpet scraped against her cheek, the tears unraveled her. The sensations thundering through her body were almost too intense to call pleasure. He surged into her, tight and hot and unbearably intimate, his arms locked around her as he finally let himself come. His hips pumped furiously, his energy blasting through her body, lighting her up like a torch.
When she opened her eyes, she was lying on her side, her face wet, still shaking with tiny sobs. He stroked her hair, her shoulders, hugging her against him tightly. Nuzzling her neck with little, pleading kisses. She breathed deeply, and let the shuddering vibration subside.
Sweat began to dry upon them. He withdrew himself, got to his feet without a word, and went into the bathroom.
She tried to move, but couldn't. Her will was severed from her body. She just lay there on the carpet, limp and spent. She listened to the water run in the bathroom sink, her hair draped over her face. The door opened. He crouched down beside her, lifting the hair off her face and turning her face so that he could look into her eyes. She smelled her own fruit scented hand soap on his hands. Rosehip Raspberry.
“I'm wiped out,” she whispered. “I can't move.”
“You need food,” he said.
She grimaced. “Wilted apples with mustard? Ick.”
“Not I ordered out,” he announced, his voice triumphant. “There's bread, potato salad, turkey, pastrami, roast beef, ham. Sliced cheddar and Swiss. Some of that bottled fruit tea stuff. And brownies.”
She actually managed to lift her head at that. “Brownies?”
He slid his hands beneath her shoulders and knees, and scooped her easily into his arms, looking pleased with himself. “Yeah. Two kinds. Double fudge walnut and chocolate cheesecake swirl.” He carried her to the bed and laid her down. “I'm going to make you a sandwich. Then we'll try to get some sleep.”
She narrowed her eyes. “I don't remember inviting you to spend the night in my bed,” she said without real force.
“Official boyfriends get to spend the night,” he said, tucking the duvet carefully around her. “It's one of the perks of the job. Part of the standard contract. It’s also covered under the rules of civilized society. It's very bad form to throw a man out the door after he's made you come ... was it three times? Or four?”
Raine betrayed herself by giggling. “I really should throw you out Just to teach you a lesson.”
“Yeah. You and what ten big guys with Uzis and duct tape?”
She giggled again, and he followed up his advantage with a kiss that bloomed swiftly into something hot and sweet and sinuous. He drew back with difficulty, his breathing uneven. “Besides, who would feed you sandwiches and brownies if you threw me out?”
“You're terrible” she told him. “You really are an opportunist.”
“You're learning, babe. You're learning.” His grin slowly faded as he gazed into her eyes. “If you really wanted me to go, I'd feel it. I'd go. I don't stay where I'm not wanted. But you want me to stay. Just like you wanted me to take you on the floor just now. Like a wild animal.”
She sat up, stung, and the duvet slipped down to her waist “Don't you dare tell me what I want, Seth Mackey.”
He reached up, touching her bared breast, and she smacked his hand away. He shrugged, aggrieved. “I just followed your cues, that's all I meant I didn't mean any offense.”
She pulled the duvet up over her chest and slanted him a narrow look. “I thought you did that to punish me. For calling you an animal.”
His eyes widened, horrified. “Punish you? Fuck, no!”
“That's how it felt,” she murmured. “At least at first”
“You call screaming multiple orgasms punishment?”
She almost laughed at the bewilderment on his face. “The orgasms are beside the point.”
“The hell they are! If that’s your idea of punishment, then I'd by God like to know what constitutes a reward!”
“Seth—”
“It would probably kill me,” he went on, his voice incredulous. “My head would explode. And I didn't know being called an animal was an insult, either. On the contrary, I kind of liked it. It turned me on.”
She grabbed a pillow and swatted him with it. “Oh, please. Everything turns you on,” she snapped.
He jerked the pillow out of her hands and climbed onto the bed. He pushed her onto her back, straddled her and seized her chin, forcing her to look straight into his eyes. “Look, sweetheart. If Fm too weird, or too rough, or too over the top for you in bed, I'll tone it down. The sex doesn't have to be wild and crazy all the time. If you want it sweet and soft by candlelight, that's fine. I'll give it to you sweet and soft.”
“You will?”
“Sure. Sweet and soft is fine with me. I like it all ways. Anything you can dream of, that's my fantasy. Got that?”
She nodded. He stood up, looking relieved. t(Now relax while I go fix you some food.” He grabbed his jeans and tugged them on. “What do you want on your sandwich? Spell it out for me, babe. Don't make me guess. I don't want to lose any more points with you. Before I know it I'll be thrown out the door for pissing on the rug.”
“Oh, stop it,” she snapped.
“Little of everything? Mustard, mayonnaise, or both?”
“Both are fine.”
“Lemonade or peach tea?”
“Lemonade, please.”
He looked as if he wanted to say something more, but stopped himself. He picked up the pillow, tucked it tenderly beneath her head and smoothed her hair over it. “I won't be long.”
The door closed after him, and she slid down beneath the duvet, shivering in the cool sheets. She stared up at the ceiling fan, and struggled to comprehend what was happening to her.
And if it was a good thing or a bad thing.