Looking down, he saw its head push through her grip as she began a stroke that ended at the very root of his shaft. Oh, God, oh, God. He had to get a handle on this before he embarrassed himself. He was a glacier peak, he told himself, impregnable and remote.
Yeah, right.
He was fucking Mount Vesuvius. Ready to blow.
"I'm not going to last," he admitted as his hips instigated a rhythm that pushed him in and out of the snug tunnel her palm and fingers formed. He fumbled for his wallet in his sagging back pocket and, wrestling it free, fished out his lone rubber. She thrust out a peremptory palm and he slapped the condom in it.
The minute she had him suited up and her dress removed and sent sailing over the side of the bed, he grasped her nearest thigh and urged her to straddle him. He held her full, firm ass in both hands while she slowly impaled herself.
The feel of her wet, muscular heat slowly parting to accommodate his length and the sight of him disappearing inside her had him sucking for breath. She lowered herself in careful increments and he had to grit his teeth against the urge to slam her down with one powerful jerk of his hands and thrust of his hips. "Aw, Jesus, Peej. You're killing me." The control he took such pride in was hanging by a thread, and to distract himself he released her butt and raised his hands to toy with her nipples.
A wordless exclamation exploded out of her and she dropped the last couple of inches, seating him fully inside her. "Oh!" She blinked startled eyes at him.
"Yes,"he said fervently and ground up into her.
"Oh," she said again, only this time it was with a duel syllable, ohmigawd-this-feels-so-goodrising inflection. Bracing her hands behind her, utilizing the power of her strong runner's thighs, she rose up his length then sank back down. Rose up and sank back down.
And oh, God, he was too close. Close to losing his mind. Close to coming like a fire hose.Have to see to Peej's needs first, his last remaining brain cells insisted even as he thrust up into each descending slam of her hips.Gotta get her over. Still determinedly manipulating her right breast, he brought his right hand down to delve between the wet folds that rose from where she engulfed him. He ran his thumb up and down the slippery cleft before zeroing in on her clitoris.That he plucked in concert to the firm tugs on her nipple and the rhythmic slaps of their bodies meeting and retreating.
"Jared?" Passion-blurred eyes stared down at him and he felt the beginning ripples of her orgasm gathering force. "Oh, God,Jared? "
Thankyouthankyouthankyou."That's it, baby," he panted. "Come for me." He gentled his touch between her legs, firmly gripped the pink spike of her nipple. "Please, Peej, I need you to come, because I don't think I can hold out any long-"
His breath exploded from his lungs as she contracted around him, a beautiful furnace-hot wet-velvet clenching fist that emptied his mind and shattered his control. The last thing he saw was P.J. clutching her breasts and throwing back her head, a hoarse moan purling from her throat. Then his eyes blurred and he was a fucking machine driving for his own satisfaction. He pounded, pounded, pounded up into her. Then, shoving deep and holding there, he roared out her name and came.
And came. In jet after jet of scalding sensation. Until, exhausted, he collapsed back onto the mattress.
Slowly his vision cleared and he stared up at her perched astride his hips like some wet-dream equestrian mastering the English saddle.
Then she melted atop him like a Dali watch, resting her head on his chest as she made subtle adjustments to find the optimum position. "That was amazing," she said in her raspy voice. "You really know your way around this sex stuff, don't you?"
He wrapped one arm around her waist and curved his free hand around the warm swell of her left buttock to hold her close, wanting to stay inside her as long as possible. "It helps to have the right partner," he replied, pressing a kiss on the top of her head. A contentment he'd never known radiated from his heart clear out to his fingers and his toes and he turned his cheek to rest against her shiny brown hair. "How'd you get to be so damn sweet?"
"Hmm?" she murmured. Then he felt her lips tilt up against his pectoral. "I told you, I'm a peach."
"I'm serious. You were dragged from pillar to post, didn't have a single advantage and never got a day's nurturing out of your old lady in your life. But not only are you a rising star in an impossible industry, youare a peach. You're funny and warm and kind. Your band loves you and I've heard more than one roadie say you're the nicest performer they've ever worked for. So how did you get to be such a sweetheart?"
She'd been wiggling around, but now she stilled. "Umm," she said nonchalantly. But an instant later, a warm drop slid across his pec and down the curve of his ribs to the sheet.
His heart slammed in his chest and his head jerked up, chin dipping to look down at her. "Are you crying?"
"Hell, no," she said gruffly, but another drop slid down his ribs.
"Ah, baby, don't do that. I'm sorry. Was it what I said about your mom? I didn't mean to upset you."
"No!" She rubbed her wet eyes against the swell of his chest then lifted her head to look up at him. "No, you didn't. That was one of the nicest things anyone's ever said to me."
Aw, hell. Shewas sweet-giving and open and talented and an all-round better person than he.
And he had a feeling he was so screwed.
He didn't doubt for a moment that tomorrow he'd regret letting his guard down. Yes, sir, tomorrow he was going to have a stern talk with himself about professional ethics. Once again he would gather his defenses. Rebuild his walls.
But for today he merely tightened his arms around her.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Headline, World Weekly Inquisitor:
Mum Says Egyptian Mummy is Priscilla Jayne's Father
NELL WAS JAZZED AS SHE headed down the tunnel to the arena, her clipboard in hand. No one had been around this afternoon to appreciate her Cinderellalike transformation but that was about to change. Primed to show off her new do and duds, she was through sitting in the tour bus all by her lonesome. She had work to do, people to see. Hell, she was mere moments away from a captive audience and she intended to capitalize on it.
Sometimes a woman simply had to strut her stuff.
It had been a long time since she'd felt like strutting anything, but she felt attractive tonight. Smart. Stylish. Almost:sexy.
Showing her badge to the guard, she tested her wiles by making eye contact and shooting him a flirtatious smile. She got an appreciative grin in return.Oh, yeah. Striding through the arena's backstage area, she beamed.Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to present Nell Husner. Tour manager. Songwriter extraordinaire.
Last of the red-hot mamas.
Hey, who cared if the guard was eighty-five if he was a day?
Gigs that ran at the same venue for longer than one night were rare on this tour, but this was day two of one of them. That meant she didn't have to reinvent the wheel, which made her workload lighter than usual. She made her usual rounds and checked to see that everything was running with the same efficiency she'd set in place yesterday. But this evening felt as if it were more about having her ego stroked than doing her job. Because everywhere she went people complimented her on her makeover.
She could hardly wait to hear what Eddie would have to say about it.
He hadn't yet arrived when she strode onto the stage, but that was hardly news. Hank was there, however, and she crossed the stage toward him.
He had his butt perched against a wooden stool, his left leg stretched out and his foot in its scuffed boot planted firmly on the floor to brace himself. His right knee was raised to support his banjo, his boot heel hooked over one of the stool's higher rungs. Head bent over the instrument, he adjusted the second fret, his hat brim concealing all but his lower lip with its little underlying soul patch and the strong angle of his chin. Then almost as if he felt her scrutiny he looked up.