"Mischief? You mean this?" She reached behind her back to unhook her bra and slowly drew it off.
He made a noise deep in his throat, and pulled her against him. His mouth came down on hers, and the heat and passion in his kiss made her legs weak. One thing she was sure of, she'd never been kissed by anyone the way he kissed her. It was more than a kiss, it was an exploration of her soul. He was a strong, powerful man, and he kissed with all his attention, as if she were the only thing that existed. She could get addicted to his kisses. They made her feel powerful too, as though she could do anything. When he kissed her like that, she wanted it to last forever.
The words from her mother's poem ran through her mind. Bewitched by a devil, kissed from thought and mind. He was her devil, and that was exactly what he was doing.
A bang came from somewhere in her apartment, and he pulled away, frowning. "What was that?"
"The sound of my heart thumping." She widened her eyes innocently. It wasn't entirely an act. Her blood was pulsing hot, and she wanted his hands back on her. Surely it wouldn't take long for Patrick to release his critters, and the closed door would keep the creepy crawlies out of her room. The thought of a few beasties scuttling outside wouldn't ruin the moment if she could help it.
Reaching for his T-shirt, she pulled it up enough that he had to finish yanking it off over his head. He unbuttoned her jeans and pushed them, and her panties, down her thighs. She helped him shove them down, and reached for the fastening on his jeans. Somehow they stumbled to the bed with their clothes half off, and fell on it.
"Wet," she gasped into his mouth.
"Beautifully wet." One finger stroked between her thighs.
"Not me, the bed. It's wet from last night's rain. Roof must have leaked on it." She arched up, away from the cold, damp mattress. Her jeans were still tight around her calves, stopping her from parting her legs more than an inch or so, and making it difficult to maneuver.
"This side's dry." He helped her move over, then stopped and looked at her feet which were dangling off the edge of the bed. "You don't make things easy, do you?"
She craned her neck to see what he was looking at. Her jeans were down at her calves, but her lace-up Doc Martin boots prevented him from pulling them right off. Although her favorite boots were insanely comfortable, they did have their drawbacks. Namely, the time it took to take them on or off.
"Think of them as a kind of modern-day corset." She wiggled her feet back and forth. "Unlacing me is part of foreplay."
"Mmm." He raised his eyebrows, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "When you put it that way, I can see how this could be fun." He sat on the edge of the bed and undid the knot on each boot. But instead of unlacing them right away, he bent and kissed the small gap between her thighs. "With your jeans tying your legs together, I can't fit my mouth between them," he said. "But I'll give you a kiss for every eyelet I unlace."
He tugged one of her bootlaces, undoing the top fastening. Then he licked between her legs, grazing her sex. She jumped and gasped, grabbing the sheets in her fists. But he sat up and unlaced another eyelet before bending back for another lick.
"Please," she moaned, after the sixth one. "This is torture."
"I can probably take your boots off now."
"Don't make me beg."
He paused with one hand on her boot, and raised his eyebrows. "I'd like to hear that."
Yeah, but what if Patrick were still here? She'd die if the pest control man heard her begging. In fact, she'd better find a way to keep this whole thing from getting loud.
Putting her toe to her heel, she prised her boots off. Then, at long last, he helped her pull off her jeans, and she could spread her legs wide so he could put his mouth where she needed it.
His tongue flicked over her, sending jolts of pure pleasure through her entire body. She closed her eyes and thrust her head back, balling up the sheets and squeezing them hard. Oh god, it felt good. But she had to remember to swallow her moans.
His hands stroked her body, caressing her belly and thighs. Then he put one hand between her legs, thrusting into her with his fingers while his tongue kept up its quick movements. His other hand cupped her buttock, kneading her flesh in a way that had her gasping.
"Ohmygod," she groaned, then bit her lip. She couldn't make a sound. No matter how amazing it- "Oh. Oh. OH."
She grabbed the pillow and pulled it over her face. Her release was a crashing wave that started between her legs and swept up her body, sweeping all rational thought in its path. It tumbled her and left her panting, sure she must have cried out at the top of her lungs. Hopefully the pillow had muffled it.
Bronson gave her trembling flesh one last, very gentle kiss. "What's with the pillow?"
Quickly she shoved it aside. Did the teasing way he'd asked mean he knew why she was trying to be quiet? He must have figured out somebody was in her apartment, but like her, was too preoccupied to care.
"Nothing," she said, hearing guilt in her reply. "Why?"
He moved up her body, kissing a path over her belly and around the curve of her breast. Then his lips went to her side, and he nuzzled the ticklish skin below her arm. Squirming, she let out a loud snort of laughter.
He lifted his head to give her a satisfied grin. Dammit, he knew exactly what he was doing. Well, two could play that game.
She reached to the bedside table to get out a condom and waggled it at him. "I'll put this on you." But instead of rolling it on right away, she lowered her mouth to him. Payback time. She rolled her tongue around him, then slid him into her mouth as deep as she could. Now it was his turn to moan deep in his throat and grab for the sheets.
Mmm. Not as loud as she'd been, but maybe tickling his balls would encourage a few more sounds. She used her mouth and fingers to tease out as many grunts, groans, and sighs as she could. It wasn't until his balls were rock hard, and she could feel he was on the edge about to explode, that she rolled on the condom.
"Come here," he said, lying back.
She straddled his hips and eased herself down onto him so slowly that it felt like he was sliding into her forever. It was such an incredible feeling she wanted to make it last as long as she could. Finally, she was filled with him, both of them gasping with the intensity of the sensation. Then she lifted and plunged hard. He grabbed her buttocks and squeezed, and she threw her head back, unable to stop a cry of pure pleasure. Crap. She was definitely losing the battle of the sounds.
"Lacey," he groaned, fitting his hands around her waist, and moving his hips to thrust into her harder. "You feel just right."
She moved over him, against him. At first just up and down, then adding a back and forward motion. He felt so good inside her that she felt another orgasm build immediately. And when he moved one hand to her breast and the other to the juncture of her thighs, he carried her over the edge.
She closed her eyes as the sensation rocketed through her, cresting to a feeling of bliss so intense that it carried her away completely. Who cared if she cried out so loud the entire city heard her? His fingers wrung every last bit of pleasure from her, until her cries died away. Then, in one strong movement, he rolled her over, still buried inside her.
He thrust into her with long, hard strokes, until finally he let out his own cry of release. Then they lay still, breathing heavily, and when his hand stroked over her arms and back, she shuddered with small aftershocks of pleasure.
It wasn't until he got up to dispose of the condom in the attached bathroom that she remembered Patrick. He must have left ages ago. It had probably only taken him a minute or two, and she'd been worried for nothing. Was her living room now infested? When they opened the door, would a stream of vermin come pouring in?
At the thought, she sat up on the bed, drawing her legs up with her arms around them. Not that she was scared of rats, but they weren't exactly her favorite animal.
"What's wrong?" Bronson stopped on his way back to bed, his gaze flicking to the door.
"Wrong?"
With his mouth twisted in an expression she couldn't quite read, he pulled on his jeans and opened the door. She tensed as it swung wide. Nothing. She peered after him as he padded out into the living room. Nothing moved that she could see, but as the fireplace and candles were the only light sources, there were plenty of dark corners. He checked the hall, then disappeared in the direction of the kitchen. She jumped out of bed, skin crawling at the thought there could be rats running around, even scurrying into her bedroom. Maybe getting into her shoes, or clothes.
Crap, her shirt was on the living room floor.