A Blazing Little Christmas(71)

Rebecca gasped, not quite ready.

“Problem?” he asked casually, as if she’d broken a heel or dropped her change down the sewer. But no, he wanted to know if she had a problem with his cock being inside her. Thick, heavy, lively cock. This was what women threw their lives over for. This feeling. This fullness. This…joining.

“No problems here,” she said, as if she had casual sex every day.

He studied her face, those experienced eyes looking into her, through her, but she lifted her chin. One corner of his mouth twisted, and then he shifted her legs a few inches higher. As he began to move, his gaze was as mechanical as his movements. He was detached about his lovemaking, his body going through all the right motions, but there was no emotion involved. This was down-and-dirty sex. Torrid, anonymous, tawdry sex.

Fate had decreed this, but Rebecca didn’t like this new plan. His vacant eyes bothered her, ticked at her insides, and she opened her mouth to say something. But his thrusts were more potent, and the tingles in her breasts and thighs started to come alive, and her mouth fell shut as the pleasure center in her brain took over.

He made no move to kiss her, no move to touch her, other than the hot hands that lifted her hips. She moaned, low in her throat. His eyes narrowed at the sound, and a bead of sweat formed on the side of his face. Friction built between her legs as he increased the speed, almost painfully fast. She concentrated on that one drop of liquid, watched it slide down over his cheek. His chest was pumping now, so strong she could see the veins underneath his skin. There was life there, buried deep.

She cried out, a guttural sound that embarrassed her, but her body had moved past the point of no return. It was loose and lax, and she arched her back, her hips echoing his rhythm. It wasn’t romantic, no hearts and flowers, nothing but backroom sex. The satisfaction of a biological drive.

Rebecca wasn’t used to sex for pleasure alone, and she gasped as he hit a marvelously decadent spot.

Her body responded, her mind floating free from its objections.

She groaned, a protest basked in pleasure. A climax was building inside her and she wanted to catch it, but he didn’t slow down, kept pumping again and again and again.

She arched even further, feeling him deep, deeper inside her, pushing, thrusting, tearing her apart.

Her hands clutched at the hard wood, clawing at nothing. Cory kept on, relentless, unceasing. She tried to speak, but there were no words. She needed to come. Now.

He ignored her, mindlessly thrusting. Her head moved from side to side, and she wanted to scream, but knew she couldn’t.

There.

There.

There. The orgasm crashed over her, and he froze, his head listing low. A moan broke from his lips, then his body jerked. Rebecca’s legs went slack, her body reeling from the completion.

The room was spinning in a three-mojito manner, but there was no pain, nothing but golden rays bursting behind her eyelids. Man, if she had guessed this about Cory Bell before, she would have ditched high school Lawrence in a heartbeat.

This was…

This was…

Wow. She’d never known that sex could be so—naughty.

“Wow,” she whispered, staring up at the ceiling, watching the wooden beams rotating in front of her eyes.

She felt him pull out of her, and rose on her elbows, watching with dreamy eyes as he cleaned up. Efficiently, he began to dress, not even glancing in her direction. Rebecca might not have been completely back on planet earth, but she knew enough to realize there was more than one thing wrong with this picture.

As he tugged on his sweater, her conversational skills returned. “You’re leaving?”

He still didn’t look at her, instead focusing on his socks and boots.

“You’re leaving?” she repeated, in a slightly less wobbly tone.

“The snow’s letting up. I should hit the road.”

Rebecca sat up straight, slid off the dresser, pissed and bare-assed naked.

Oh, no. Not. Now.

She tried to walk, her knees dipping before she locked them to stay upright.

“You’re leaving?”

He stopped in mid-zip. “Look, you got what you wanted. Go back downstairs. I won’t tell, he’ll never know and you’ll have the quiet, romantic weekend you’re aching for.”

“I don’t want him.”

“Don’t lie. He’s exactly what women like you want.”

Rebecca took in a lung’s worth of air, adding a full two inches to her height. She didn’t care that she was naked, didn’t care that her own juices were trickling down her leg. All she knew was that this man was not going to do that to her and then run away. She didn’t care about Alec Trevayne. She only cared about this man, about how he could make her giddy with tingles. No way was he leaving like this.