What the hell?
He turned his head and slanted his mouth across hers, giving in to the impulse to see just how far she'd go. Because, deep down, he'd been fighting his attraction to her since he walked in her door.
Shay didn't retreat. She reached for his shirt jacket and pushed it back over his shoulders. Then she was pulling at his Henley, trying to get it up out of his pants.
She felt him shiver as she ran her hands under his shirtfront and over the warm contours of his chest. The crisp hair she'd longed to touch earlier tickled her palms. She heard a little sigh escape him as she walked her fingers down his ribs and smiled under his kiss. The man who'd been in control of every encounter between them so far didn't feel so much in control at the moment. The heavy thud of his heart under her palm said he was far from it.
That made her want to push him further.
She slid her hands up to his nipples, hard little nubs that grazed her palms, and plucked them with her fingers. This time he sucked in a quick breath. And then he took charge. One hand moved from her back, down over the full curves of her butt, fingers flexing to cup her low. He pulled her to him in a quick motion that spread her breasts across the hard planes of his chest and her sex against the proof of his arousal.
Things became pretty chaotic after that. She jerked his shirt off and then she lost her sweater and jeans as he waltzed her backward toward the nearby sofa, all the while connected by hot wet kisses. It was like a struggle with only one goal, mutual satisfaction.
When they reached the sofa, he sat back, pulling her down with him. She threw a leg over his thighs and sank down onto his lap, all the while never losing their lip-to-lip connection.
Mind smoked by the heat of lust, James retained just enough police discipline to remember his weapon. He reached behind his back, found the gun tucked into the holster at the small of his back. He pulled it out and reached as far away as possible to tuck it barrel down between the cushion and the arm of the couch.
He saw her eyes widen as she followed his actions, and when she looked again at him, there was a question there. He'd seen the question before, in other women's eyes. Some were excited by the fact that he carried a gun. Others found it a complete turnoff. He couldn't gauge Shay's response, only that she had one.
After a second she looked down.
Operating strictly on autopilot, because his head was now definitely in his pants, he leaned forward and whispered against her ear. "Shay?"
"What?" She looked up at him. Those autumn eyes of hers were smoked by desire but her expression was now guarded.
"We can stop right here."
Caution turned to misery, the sexual flush in her face fading. Her response wasn't even a question. "Don't you want to?"
Hell yeah! his dick demanded.
His head told him not to give in to the urge to lick the drop of sweat streaking into the deep cleft between her breasts. White cotton had never looked so naughty as it did cupping her breasts. As it was, his zipper was going to leave teeth tracks in his shaft if he didn't release it soon.
He cupped her face in his hands and lifted her face up so that she had to look at him. "I'm there. If this is what you really want."
Shay didn't want to think about want. She could only feel. And what she felt was the frantic feminine need to screw the balls off this man. And that frightened her.
She closed her eyes. This was stupid! Another mistake! But she'd made so many, what was one more?
When she looked again she saw the expression of a man ready for sex and hoping like hell he was about to get it.
James went perfectly still under her glare, his cock throbbing in insistent need in time with his heartbeat.
She did not move away. The warm damp seat of her panties pressed against his groin. The heat of her crotch caressed his dick through his jeans. It was a risqué position for a woman who a second ago was about to screw him six ways from Sunday but now looked like she wanted to extract his tonsils without administering anaesthetic.
Shay reached down between them and brushed her hand with slow deliberation across his turgid fly. "This is not any rescued-damsel-in-distress thank-you bullshit. Okay?"
"Got it." The only distress she seemed to be in was over the decision of whether to throttle him or screw him. By the expression on her face, the outcome was still up in the air.
She wriggled back on his thighs so that she could fold her hand over the thick length of his dick beneath his jeans. "It's just a one-time thing. So don't be a bastard about it later. Okay?"
"Okay." He grinned. She had chosen to screw him.
When she leaned in to kiss him again, he decided to take further decisions out of her hands. He caught her by the waist while his other hand slid up under her hair and cupped her head to hold her still under the sensual assault of his kisses.
Shay yielded control, concentrated her attention on the in-and-out motion of his tongue between her lips. Kissing had never felt better, sexier, hotter.
As her mouth opened wider under his, James began a slow grind, his engorged cock rubbing insistently against her through the barrier of their clothing.
After a moment he slipped a hand between her thighs and pushed aside the crotch of her panties then sank a thumb deep into her hot juicy wetness. Desire doubled with a jerk of his dick. He'd give her the best he could manage.
Shay whimpered as he parted the wet silk of her lips with his fingers. Her body shuddered, grinding her sex against his hand, frantic for release and afraid it would be snatched away too soon. It wasn't.
She couldn't catch her breath but it didn't matter. She didn't need to breathe. She only needed to feel James inside her as quickly as possible.
She lifted herself up so she could reach for his zipper. She jerked it down and then her hands were inside his waistband, pushing jeans and shorts down. To her surprise, he levered easily off the sofa with her astride, allowing her to push his clothing down over the rock-hard contours of his butt.
"Hold it." He dove into the back pocket of his jeans and pulled out a foil packet.
Shay looked at it, brought back from the frenzy of the moment. James was prepared. He had produced a condom.
"I-uh." Am always prepared would sound a little too overconfident.
"Boy Scout?" She was giving him an out.
They locked gazes. "Yes."
"Better that way."
James quickly sheathed himself and then grabbed her by the waist with one hand. Reaching down between them, he directed his shaft at the right angle, felt the slick heat of the outer folds of her sex part against its head, and shoved toward the goal.
A faint cry escaped Shay as the fat head of his cock entered her. He was bigger than she had expected. She took a couple of quick breaths, telling herself to relax.
"Shhh!" His voice was a thick whisper. "Take it slow."
"No. I want all of you. Push harder."
Grinning, he took her firmly by the waist, and drove her hips down on his swollen cock. With an upward thrust of his hips he slid into her, balls deep.
A series of little inarticulate cries erupted from Shay as he slid home. The sounds exploded in wonder by his ear as the ripples of her climax massaged the length of his shaft.
Damn! He hadn't even begun to move. She was so responsive he almost lost control. She might need only one thrust, his body demanded many more. Now. While her body was sucking him in.
He bucked under her, pounding into her hot wet depths like a jackhammer. She grabbed him by the shoulders and held on, riding his rhythm with eagerness.
Seconds later she gripped him hard, her fingers digging into his shoulders as he continued to pump her. He felt her climax rising again as she called his name in little breathless whispers that feathered his ear.
Afraid her cries would upset Bogart, who had wandered off in the direction of the kitchen, he reached up and stuck his thumb in her mouth. Her lips clamped down on his finger as she began sucking it like a lollipop.
Until that moment, he hadn't known he was wired from thumb to cock. The clutch and caress of her sex, echoed by her firm sucking of his thumb, wrung from him a helpless, "Aw God."
He was running hot and wide open. He wanted her so badly he thought he'd bust a vein. And yet …
Just a few more strokes, he promised himself, gasping for air that had suddenly deserted him. Just a little more pleasure. One, two, three long slow pumps in and out. He savored the sweet agony of suspense until it wrung from her a feminine moan of protest.
Then he lost control.
He buried his head in her neck to keep from shouting as he pumped out his climax.
For a moment the world stopped. When it came back it was distant, vague, muffled, a dim shadow beyond the vivid touch and scent of their coupled bodies.