Hard and Fast(37)

Maybe, just maybe, all the way to that sacred place they were both curious about that had thus far eluded them.                       
       
           



       

The moment stretched and she didn't know what to say, if she should rein  it in, keep it light and casual, or hint, take a risk, suggest there be  more than a few romps in bed together.

But then Ty's mouth split into a grin. "So we're a couple of loveless Joes, huh? At least we know how to have bang-up sex."

A little deflated, then irritated with herself for feeling that way,  Imogen forced a smile. "True." What she didn't say was that they both  knew at some point sex could no longer sustain a relationship, that you  either had to cross over into emotional intimacy to mirror your physical  intimacy, or go your separate ways. Almost no one could have a  long-term sexual relationship without developing feelings for the person  or developing the desire to feel more than they did. At least Imogen  knew she couldn't.

She already felt more than she should.

Stuffing another grape in her mouth, she struggled to find something  witty to say in return, but she was never witty. So she was chewing,  wishing she could swallow her confusing emotions like fruit, when Ty  reached over and ran his finger across the back of her hand.

"Do you know that when you have an orgasm, you stop breathing?" he said,  his own food abandoned on the table as he stared at her with a look  that she recognized.

The change of subject caught her off guard and she swallowed hard. "I'm  aware of that," she said, her heart rate stepping up at the memory of  his fingers inside her barely an hour earlier. "When it grabs me like  that, I can't breathe."

"That silence, the way your eyes go wide and your mouth drops open, and  you stop breathing for a second or two, is the hottest damn thing I've  ever seen."

"Thank you," she said, not sure what else to say. While she was  surprising herself by how sexually comfortable and almost coy she was  with Ty, she was still no seductress. She didn't know how to play the  game, only how to be honest.







"I want to see that look right now."

"Fruit and turkey don't get me that excited," she said, which was the  truth. But he got her excited, and just staring at her across the table  was enough to have her feeling the beginnings of a blaze stoking to life  between her thighs.

The corner of his mouth went up. "I would wonder about you if they did." Ty stood up. "Come on."

"To the tent?"

"Yes, unless you want to do this on the table."

The thrill of it warred with the image of splinters in her backside. "I thought you wanted to eat first."

"Changed my mind." Ty was coming around the table, and he took the  sandwich out of her hand and slapped it down on the table. "Up. Come  on." He tugged her hand to get her to rise. "I'm going to make you stop  breathing again."

"We talked about this, remember?" Imogen said in protest, even as she went with him. "I don't have multiple orgasms."

"That was an hour ago."

"I still think it counts . . . It's sort of like I can't have more than two in twenty-four hours, usually only one."

"We'll see."

A shiver went up her spine at that promise. "Am I going to be  uncomfortable?" she asked, thinking about the hard ground and her head  grinding into it.

Ty threw open the flap to the tent. "Only if having a dick buried in you  makes you uncomfortable." Alrighty, then. It was safe to say she didn't  really have a problem with that, even though his words startled her.  "You shock me sometimes," she told him.

Looking back at her, he paused, his eyes searching. "Am I too much for  you, babe? Do I need to rein it in? Because I can do that."

She took a second, really listening to her gut. Did she want him to stop  being outrageous and demanding in their sexual encounters? Uh, no. Not  at all. She loved that he took charge, that he guided her and told her  what he wanted. That he forced her to say what she wanted. There was  something very sexy and primal about being taken by Ty.

"No," she told him, shaking her head. "Nothing is too much." She knew  precisely how that would sound to him, and it had the effect she wanted.  His eyes narrowed, and a low groan slipped out of his mouth.

"Oh, yeah? Then in you go. Down on the sleeping bags." He gestured for her to enter the tent.

Imogen ducked and entered, getting her bearings. It didn't look  glamorous or comfortable but it didn't look dirty either. And there was  something cozy about the peak of the tent and the nylon walls. She  dropped to her knees carefully and crawled forward on the sleeping bag.  It was thicker than it looked and not as dreadful as she had  anticipated. But concerns about damage to her knees disappeared when Ty  moved in behind her and pulled her hips back until her backside collided  with a very impressive erection.                       
       
           



       

"Hello," she said, turning to look at him over her shoulder. "I wasn't  expecting that." Even though they were fully clothed, the motion of him  bumping gently into her, over and over, had her thighs going damp.

"If you're on all fours in front of me, I consider that an invitation," he said, his grip on her hips tightening.

"It's presenting."

"I'll be sure to remember that." So she could do it frequently. Imogen  bit her lip when his hand slid across her thigh and moved down to cup  her mound. Then she struggled not to moan when he undid her jeans and  started tugging them off.

"They're not going to come off in this position," she said.

"You want to bet?"

Not really, because Imogen could already tell he was going to prevail in  triumph over the denim. He pretty much had them down her thighs  already, and when she leaned forward a little, he was able to get them  down to her knees, panties included. Then his finger slipped inside her  and she stiffened. The man knew dead-on right where to touch her. It was  amazing. It was sexual ESP.

"Shit, I left the condoms in my backpack out there," Ty said, even as his finger continued to move. "I





have to go get them."

"I'm on the pill." Imogen rolled her hips back to meet his strokes, her  eyes half-closed at the delicious impact of her colliding with his  finger. "As far as anything else goes, I trust you. I presume you would  trust me to be truthful with you about my health as well." She panted a  little, struggling to find her breath.

"I mean, honestly, it's all rather bizarre. Every relationship passes  out of the condom phase as a couple becomes more committed and/or trusts  one another on a deeper level. Yet, unless they have actually been  tested for disease during the course of the relationship, they are no  more ‘safe' than they were when they were still using condoms. What  changes in reality? Nothing, except the skewed perception that now that  they know each other, they couldn't possibly have an STD, whereas  previously it was still a possibility. It's an odd alteration based  purely on emotion, isn't it?"

"Very odd. And I don't have anything. I've been tested."

"But it's not like you can carry around a card indicating that you're-" He interrupted her. "Hey, Engine?"

His finger had stilled in her, which she found disappointing. She  wiggled a little to provoke a response from him but he didn't give it.  "Yes?"

"Are you giving me permission to be inside you without a condom?" Imogen  processed the question and didn't hesitate in her answer. "Yes, I am."  He gave a soft, exasperated laugh. "Then quit yapping and let me fuck  you."

"Hey." She reached back and smacked at his leg, which was somehow  magically bare. How he'd gotten his own jeans down his thighs was a  mystery to her. "I don't yap." Ty yanked off his T-shirt. "No, you're  right, you don't yap." His finger slipped into her again. "You are the  smartest woman I know, with witty and interesting observations on  everything around you, especially people, and I love to hear you talk,  to hear your thoughts. Most of the time. Now is not one of those times,  because right now I just want to grit my teeth, let my mind go blank,  and sink into the sensation of your body closing around mine in a hot,  wet cocoon."

She swore that with each word he spoke she got wetter and more aroused,  until she was thrusting frantically backward onto his finger and  gripping the sleeping bag beneath her by the time he was done talking.  That had sounded hot and excited and almost, kind of, romantic. Like the  Ty McCordle version of Shakespeare. "Okay," she said. "I'm done  thinking."