Fighting Dirty (Ultimate #4)(22)
Her eyes went heavy, sexy. “An illicit affair with the notorious Armie Jacobson? Sure, I can do that.”
He started to lean down and she added, “There’s something you need to understand.”
By the second, his need ratcheted up. “Let’s hear it.”
“It can’t be just once.”
“Guaranteed.”
She flattened a hand to his chest, holding him off. “I don’t mean just once tonight. I mean I want tomorrow, too.”
“Count me in.”
Again she held him off, this time with both hands. “I don’t mean to pressure you. I know you have a fight soon—”
“Wouldn’t matter if the fight was tomorrow. I’m done denying myself.”
“Well then, as long as we’re having this illicit affair, it’s just me, no other woman.”
She was so adorable. Like he’d want any other woman with her near? Hell, it felt like he’d been waiting forever for this. “You’re saying you don’t want a threesome?”
“Not unless you’re talking another guy.”
He went blank, then hot with a rush of anger, then...he saw her grin. His damn palms were damp, his heart galloping. Jesus.
“That,” he growled, “might earn you another swat.”
“So we agree that’s out.”
He pretended to think about it. “So no spanking, no threesomes. Tell me then, what are you into?”
“You.” She hooked her arms around his neck. “I’m into you, Armie.”
For some reason, that spooked him a little. He was known for outrageous sex. Wicked, kinky, sometimes taboo sex. Women chased him down for it. For the sex, not necessarily for him.
Didn’t bother him; he always aimed to please.
More than any other, he wanted to please Merissa.
“You can have me.” He kissed her again, this time not so sweetly. She opened for his tongue, teased her own against his, pressed closer and gave a soft moan. Against her lips, he whispered, “Don’t be shy, honey. Tell me what you like.”
Eyes heavy-lidded, lips swollen, she nodded, then looked around the bedroom. Tipping her head back, she let her gaze zero in on the Velcro tie at the headboard post. “I guess, if you really want, you could tie me up?”
He frowned over how she’d put that, like a question instead of a statement. “You’d like that?” He sure as hell didn’t want to do anything to her she didn’t like.
She nodded at the post where the tie was fastened. “I’m guessing you do, right? You use that to fasten around a woman’s wrist?”
Smiling, he pressed closer to her. “These,” he said, reaching up to the middle post to flip the double-hanging Velcro cuffs, “are for her hands.”
Confusion beetled her brows. She studied the soft ties in the middle of the headboard, then the other ties at the outside posts. “So then those...?”
“Are for her ankles.”
Her eyes went comically wide. She rounded on him. “No,” she whispered.
Armie took great pleasure in saying, “Yeah. It leaves her vulnerable, as you can imagine, and has the added bonus of giving me a lot to look at.”
“I’m not into that, either!”
She was so damn funny, he couldn’t resist teasing her. “Oh, I dunno, Stretch.” He gathered both her wrists into one hand and held them over her head, then stroked down her side to her hip, and into the back of those tiny lace panties. “You’d look awfully sweet spread-eagle—”
She squirmed, then gasped when his fingers brushed along her cleft. “Ain’t happening, Armie!”
“Why not? You brought it up.” He held her secure when she tried to twist away. Kissing her jaw, her ear, he whispered, “I love your ass.”
“You can love it untied!”
He laughed. “Okay, don’t get riled. We’ll put that on the back burner for now.”
She settled down with a few deep breaths. After searching his face, she said, “I have an idea.”
“Yeah?” He looked at her breasts and was amazed at his own restraint. “Let’s hear it.”
“I think it’s pretty different, at least for you.”
His cock swelled more. “Okay.”
She tugged at her hands so he released her, then she again pushed him to his back. Crawling half over him, her hands at either side of his face, she smiled. “Tonight, how about you tell me what you like, and I’ll take it from there.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
MERISSA LIKED THE stunned look on Armie’s face. Wasn’t often she could take him off guard.
She watched him gather his wits, saw his eyes narrow, and then he reached for her breasts. “I’ll like making you come.”
“I’m sure I’ll like that, too.” She didn’t dissuade him from touching her. Heck no. She’d craved his touch for so long she couldn’t deny him now even if she wanted to. “But do you like this? Touching me?”
Voice gravelly and deep, he said, “I love touching you.”
“I think you’d like me touching you, also. Right?”
He went still. “Yeah.”
“Could we get naked first?”
His chest expanded. His gaze burned over her. “Yeah. Naked is good.”
Merissa usually felt a little insecure about her figure. She was long and lean, lacking lush curves, especially on top. But the way Armie looked at her, with so much palpable lust, she knew he liked what he saw and that made her feel sexy. She moved off the bed, smiled at him and skimmed her panties down.
Slowly, he sat up, his gaze consuming her. In a near growl, he murmured, “Come here.”
She walked over to him—but when he reached for her, she took his hands and urged him to his feet.
“I want to see you, too, Armie.” She didn’t wait for him to remove the boxers. She did it for him, stepping close and coasting her hands over his broad chest and his hard back, and then down until she had both hands over his muscled tush.
Sinking to her knees, she took the boxers down.
Armie breathed harder.
Could a man be more stunning? His messy hair, beard scruff and tattoos added an edge to his gorgeously honed body. Everywhere she looked, everywhere she touched, he was rock solid. Sleek, taut skin on his shoulders and biceps led to sparse chest hair over his chiseled pecs, then down to dance over the ridges of his carved abdomen. With his feet stationed apart, she admired his strong, hairy calves and his thick thighs.
Finally she looked at his erection; heat expanded, spreading out to her limbs and making her tingle all over.
“I love your body, Armie. I love looking at you and feeling free to touch you.” She lightly dragged her hands up the front of his thighs, then asked again, “What do you like most?”
“You, naked and on your knees in front of me, has to be pretty damned close.”
“Good.” She brought her hands up the insides of his thighs. “I can work with that.”
“You don’t have to work, honey.” He sucked in air when she curled her hand around his straining erection. “Believe me, I want you enough already.”
She stroked him slowly and reveled in his harsh groan. “For so long, you’ve rejected me.”
“You know why.” His hand petted over her head until his fingers tangled in her hair. “Truth is, I’ve wanted you since you were sixteen years old.”
Shocked, Merissa looked up at him.
“That surprises you?” His face looked hard, his eyes dark as he struggled for composure. “I was twenty—too old to be perving on you like I did. But you were so damned sweet, so hot. You’d smile at me and all I could think about was getting under your skirt.”
“You hid it well.” She went back to stroking, but brought up her other hand to fondle his testicles.
“Fuck,” he groaned, his eyes momentarily closing before he opened them again to stare at her with blatant hunger. “You’re my best friend’s lil sister. Your family was always special, to the neighborhood and to everyone who knew the Colters. I was just the guy with the drunk for a dad and the mom who ran off and—”
Merissa pressed a kiss to the underside of his erection, stopping his awful speech. She didn’t want to hear him run himself down. To her, he was...everything. Protective and brave and funny. Armie was honor, reliability and the best of friends whenever someone needed him.
“You smell so good,” she whispered, brushing her nose along his length, then licking back to the head, over the tip where she stole a drop of precum.
Armie said nothing, but he now had both hands in her hair, and she felt him shaking. She looked up and found him watching the mirror. She’d forgotten all about it, but as she glanced that way, too, she saw what he saw; their bodies in profile, his big and strong, his muscles clenched in arousal while she knelt before him, her hair held in his fisted hands like reins.
Still he said nothing, but in his face she saw naked emotion. In his stance—feet apart and hips forward, shoulders braced—she saw pure, piercing lust.
She loved having him like this. She loved his pleasure.
She’d loved him—since she was sixteen years old.
Opening her mouth, she drew him in, taking him as deep as she could.
“Rissy,” he whispered, agonized.
She felt him growing taut, tasted more of him, and knew he was close—so fast. She’d expected him to last longer, but the fact that he didn’t, that maybe he couldn’t, thrilled her.