Just One Taste...(8)

She exploded.

Her back arched, her eyes fluttered closed, the muscles between her legs contracted against his fingers.

Though he was still as hard as a rock, crazy satisfaction rushed through him. She was so damn beautiful.

She sagged, so he swung her into his arms and carried her inside. She  trailed her fingers through the hair at his temple. "I'm fairly sure a  feminist shouldn't be carried."

"You want to walk?" he asked as he headed down the hall, his heart  hammering so fast he was sure it would burst before he made it to the  bed.

"Hell no. Can't stand."

Somehow chuckling in the midst of his own painful need, he strode into  his bedroom. After laying her on the bed, he stripped off his shirt,  then started on his pants.

She sat up suddenly, laying her hand across his crotch. "Hey there, lawman, not so fast."

"I thought you were exhausted with satisfaction."

Scooting to the edge of the bed, she tugged his belt from the loops. "Only temporarily."

He sucked in a breath of anticipation as she started on his zipper. Hang on, man. Stay in control.

She slid his zipper down, her fingers dipping below the band of his underwear, skimming the head of his erection.

He had the crazy image of a plane going down.

Captain, we're losing pressure. What should we do?

Hold the course.

Sorry, sir, control is outta here. You're on your own.

The moment she wrapped her hand around his rock-hard penis, his whole  body went rigid. He had to close his eyes to hold on. He tried to still  himself as she dragged her hand down, then up, though his knees nearly  buckled. The woman was … amazing.                       
       
           



       

And if she continued to stroke him that way, he was going to completely lose it.

But he couldn't help reveling in her touch. She had a sure, confident  grip. Her fingers cupped beneath the head of his penis, where she held  and squeezed for a moment before stroking down again and sending his  pulse soaring, his control spinning wildly.

His climax hovered, threatening and promising.

Somehow, he found the strength to grab her wrist. "I'm losing it here."

She glanced up at him, her blue eyes sparkling. "No kidding?"

Obviously, she was enjoying herself. Only fair, he supposed, since he was rapidly approaching ecstasy.

He stripped off his underwear, then leaned forward, pinning her to the  mattress with his body. The feel of her against him from chest to hip  was intoxicating, stimulating, somehow forbidden, even though-or maybe  because-he was naked and she wasn't.

He felt dominant and predatory. As if she were his to possess and ravish.

Until she wrapped both legs around his waist.

Who's in control now? her expression seemed to scream.

In silent answer he leaned back and yanked her dress over her head in  one smooth motion, leaving her wearing a lacy red bra and the matching  miniscule panties. As she lay back on the bed, her wheat-colored hair  spread out around her head, her gaze locked on his, he rose, standing  between her legs.

Heat rolled off her. Need vibrated within him.

He laid his index finger on the top of her shoulder, then slid it down  her body. Her skin glowed with sweat and gold-specked sparkles. How did  women manage that? How did they find ways to glow and shine in moments  of elemental need?

He paused at the front clasp of her bra and, with a flick of his  fingers, popped it open. She arched her back, as if trying to press her  breasts against his hand. He moved her bra aside, flicking his thumb  across her nipple. She sucked in a breath and cupped her breasts,  offering them to him.

Leaning forward, he dipped his head and laved her nipple with his  tongue. She moaned, and he repeated the movement, teasing the tip to a  hard peak. When her breathing grew labored, he straightened and slid his  hand down her stomach. He liked stimulating her. He liked the needy  look in her eyes. He liked … controlling her response.

A flaw maybe. But one he wasn't willing to admit to or relinquish.

He trailed his hand across her abs, then moved down, dipping his fingers  beneath the waistband of her panties, just as she'd done to him.

"You've been there once. I thought it was your turn."

"It is." He bunched the panties in his fist, then jerked them down her legs. "Eventually."

But he'd been dying to taste her all night, and he certainly wasn't missing his chance.

He drew his tongue down the center of her rib cage. The teasing smell of  strawberries and chocolate tracked his journey, and he knew she must  wear some kind of scented lotion or perfume. Her soft, creamy skin  seduced him. Her sighs encouraged him. Her body welcomed him.

When he reached her navel, he dipped his tongue in the indention. Her stomach contracted. In anticipation, he hoped.

As he slid his fingers through the hair between her thighs, the musky  scent of her essence washed over him. She was wet, her longing evident.  He slid his tongue gently down her center. She clenched her thighs and  sighed, but his hunger for her had been building, so he wasn't long on  patience. He wanted his name on her lips, wanted to experience every  part of her, absorb her inside him.

They might be virtual strangers, but she'd never forget him.

He teased her with gentle flicks, but she soon grew restless, her body  jerking, her fists clenching the bedcovers, her head thrashing from side  to side.

Sensing what she needed, he increased his pace, no longer teasing but  bringing her the satisfaction she seemed to crave. When her hips pumped  and she called his name, his body answered, his erection throbbing,  demanding its pleasure.

He watched her. And his command over his body buckled.

As her pulse subsided, he scooped his pants off the floor, found a  condom and rolled it on. He fitted himself between her thighs and drove  inside, desperate to catch those last few contractions.

Her eyes flew open and fixed on his as she wrapped her legs around his waist. Her inner walls squeezed him.                       
       
           



       

Lucas panted so he wouldn't explode at the exquisite feel of her. He  withdrew, then surged forward again, and she gripped the comforter as  her hips rose to meet him.

He hadn't even turned down the sheets, he realized. Sometime between the  balcony and the bedroom, he'd lost those precious manners he'd bragged  about. But there was no holding back now. He didn't give a great damn  about manners as sweat rolled down his back and Vanessa writhed beneath  him. He increased his pace, Vanessa's hips pumping in response. His  climax roared through him, and he drove harder, wanting her with him  when he went over the edge. She stiffened, then pulsed hard around him.

As he collapsed on top of her, he was already planning ways to keep her,  to probe her mind as well as her body and unravel the mystery as to why  she'd struck him so hard, so immediately.

Right between the eyes.



"HOW ABOUT DESSERT?"

Lucas rolled to his side, propping his hand against his head. "That wasn't dessert?"

Eyes closed, her red bra parted but still on, Vanessa's lips curved in a  smile. "That was fantastic." She paused. "But I'm still hungry."

He drew his finger down her side. Food wasn't exactly what he was hungry  for, but he could be patient. "My fridge is pretty bare. I only moved  in last week."

One eye cracked open. "Last week? The place is spotless. Where are the  boxes, the furniture you haven't found a place for yet, the bubble wrap  piled in the corners?"

"I had a service unpack everything while I was at work."

"That's … efficient."

"I don't believe in wasting time."

Her eyes popped open fully, meeting his gaze with amused satisfaction. "I kind of got that."

He liked that he could lie here with her and talk like old friends.  Where was the awkwardness of strangers taking the premature leap to  intimacy? Why had his desire for her increased instead of being  satiated?

He ran his thumb along her bottom lip. "However … there are moments when taking your time is much more satisfying."

"Like with a soufflé?"

Completely charmed by her, he kissed her lightly. "Among others."

Wondering if her cry of hunger was mingled with a need for distance, he  rolled off the bed. After sliding on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, he  walked into the bathroom and pulled his bathrobe off a hook, then laid  it at the foot of the bed.

He had to make a conscious effort not to go any closer to her. She made  him long to crawl into bed for a day. And even then he wasn't sure his  hunger would be satisfied.

"The bathroom's all yours," he said, extending his arm toward the open French doors. "I'm sure you'll find everything you need."

She propped up on her elbows. "The service provide that, too?"

He smiled. "Of course. I'm a very good customer."