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Midnight Fever (Men of Midnight #5)(11)

By:Lisa Marie Rice


Nick nodded, looked down at them. Kay looked down too as he pulled out of her. He did it so slowly, she felt like she could feel the walls of her sex contracting where he was pulling away.

His penis was very dark, still thick. When he pulled out, it glistened. Juices ran down her thighs. This was definitely the most physical sex she'd ever had, and it should have embarrassed her-but it didn't. 

Nick sighed. "I have condoms," he said. "Brand-new, candy-colored. I think they might even be scented. And they are in my pants." Both of them looked over at his trousers on the carpet. "They might as well be on the moon. What can I say? I'm clean. We were tested constantly at the FBI and I always use condoms. Except now, apparently."

His mouth was twisted, eyes crinkled with contrition.

Well, there was an app for that.

"I, ahm, I'm clean too. And the CDC tests regularly as well. Also for tuberculosis and hepatitis. I also, um, am on the pill."

Nick's eyes shot open. He swallowed heavily. "We can fuck bareback?" he asked.

Kay winced. "If you put it like that-"

"God." Nick rolled his eyes. "I'm an idiot. Don't listen to me. Don't pay me any attention whatsoever, except for allowing me to make love to you. My brain is completely gone. Sorry." Before she could answer, he kissed her. And kissed her. So thoroughly her head swam and she lost her balance. It took a moment for her to realize that he'd picked her up and was carrying her to the bed.

She found herself lying on her back on the bed, totally boneless, arms out to her sides, legs slightly apart. She probably looked wanton. Who cared? She'd just had the best sex of her life. She'd earned wanton.

Nick stood by the side of the bed, one hand on her right ankle, looking down at her. Where he looked, she could feel her skin warm. His eyes slid up slowly, like a caressing hand, until he met her gaze and she had a jolt, as if there was a physical connection when her eyes met his.

Without removing his gaze from hers, he stripped, fast and efficiently. Tie, shirt, wife-beater. He bent briefly and she only realized then that he'd kept his socks on while they'd had sex against the wall. If anyone knew he'd had sex with his socks on, the Italian police would probably come arrest him.

On any other man, having on socks, undershirt, shirt and tie while getting it on would have looked ridiculous, but on Nick it hadn't. He'd been so ferocious, so driven by desire, he'd only taken off what was absolutely essential.

His hand returned and ran from her ankle up over her shin and thigh, to cup her there, right where she was hot and wet.

"Sei bellissima," he murmured.

"I took Italian in high school," she said. "I know what that means."

His eyes left hers, looking down at his hand covering her sex. "You're so beautiful you blind me."

He didn't act blinded. No, he was studying her by sight and by touch. And by smell.

Nick dropped to his knees, pulled her gently until her lower legs fell from the bed. He pressed her knees apart and kissed his way up her thigh until, oh …  Oh.

He rose, stood like a Greek sculpture looking down at her. Oh, man, he was bellissimo. Broad-shouldered, heavily muscled but without an ounce of fat. His penis wasn't erect but it was large, full. She remembered it filling her.

Something about the way she looked at him made his penis become even fuller, start to rise …

Nick placed his hand on her thigh again. "Stay here," he said in a low, deep voice.

Well … yeah. She wasn't dumb. She had a PhD and two Masters'. She was smart and she wasn't going anywhere. Not while it appeared that more of that was on tap.

Nick came out of the bathroom with a wet towelette, which he used to wash her, wiping carefully down her thighs where his semen had flowed, between the folds of her sex. He took his time.

She closed her eyes, gave herself up to the moment. He started kissing every inch of her, along her thighs, between her thighs, long, slow licks of his tongue that made her shiver.



       
         
       
        

"Look at me," he commanded, and she opened her eyes slowly, not really wanting to connect with the real world. She'd floated into a dream world of soft sounds and soft caresses. Looking at him jolted her back into reality. His face was dark and stark, skin tight over his cheekbones, eyes almost closed. His head was between her thighs, looking up the length of her body at her.

Suddenly, she wanted to kiss him. Kiss him and feel the weight of his body anchoring hers. She cupped his head with her hands and tugged gently. There was no need to say the words. Come to me. He understood completely.