Mistletoe Mischief (Lost and Found #5.5)(8)

She blinked and a tear dripped down her cheek, then another.

"Oh, baby," Roger sighed, turning her fully to face him. He wrapped her in his arms and pulled her tight. Their thighs wrapped around each other and her arms went around his middle to hold him tight.

In this instance, he felt like he needed to reassure her, but he was getting as much out of the intimacy as she was.

"I love it that you turn to me this way," he whispered. "But I feel guilty because you feel so good."

She sputtered out a laugh. "I'm glad to see at least part of you is typical man."

Leaning down, he kissed her slowly, deeply.

"Can I spend the morning in your bed, Cassandra Jones? And maybe the rest of the century?"

Her eyes widened and she clamped her lips shut as if she couldn't contain her joy, then nodded emphatically. As he pulled her into his arms he felt the tears on his shoulder.



Cassandra edged off the bed and padded to the bathroom. Though she kind of hated to do it, she took a shower. It seemed wrong to wash Roger's mark from her body. 

But as she did wash she realized how good she felt. Frowning thoughtfully, she ran the soap over her breasts.

Her body felt fantastic, but it was more than that. She felt  …  lighter in her own skin. Some people would laugh at that and run their gazes over her big, beautiful bod, but she had a feeling Roger wouldn't. He would look into her eyes and smile that perfect male model smile of his. Then tell her how she was his moon. His moon. God, that was romantic. Even her jaded ass could admit that.

When she tiptoed into the room, Roger still seemed to be asleep. She crept to her dresser and dug out panties and a bra, then a fresh T-shirt and sleep pants with Dachshunds dancing across the fabric. Roger had closed the drapes when he'd come back to bed, and there was just enough light seeping around the edges to see.

"You are such a beautiful woman," his deep voice rumbled from the darkness. "I know I keep saying it but every time I see you I'm hit with it again."

Cass turned, searching out his form. He'd sat up on the mattress, sheets pooling into folds at his lap. His abs were tight as he arched into a bone-popping stretch, both arms over his head. If Roger were any other man she would think he was posing for her.

But when his gaze connected with hers again, he gave her a little sheepish smile. "I slept really good with you."

"I did too," she told him softly.

And it was the truth. She'd had relationships over the years, but she'd never actually slept with a man. That spoke to a trust that she just didn't have; too many of the men she'd known were just aggressive males. But it hadn't even occurred to her to leave the man in her bed last night. She knew Roger had her back, she could trust him to have her back, that was a new feeling for her.

She crossed to the bed and sat down next to him. Immediately, his hand lifted to caress her cheek and he leaned in to give her a good morning kiss. And it wasn't just a peck. It was a 'good morning you luscious, beautiful woman, I want to fuck you' kiss.

Cass was totally okay with that. As her nipples puckered and her body began to warm, she reached out to touch him. Muscles bulged beneath her fingers, and at his sides the skin quivered, obviously ticklish. She let her fingernails run over the spot a couple of times.

When he pulled away from her mouth, he was grinning. "You're asking for trouble," he warned.

That damn inner devil of hers demanded that she push his limits. Running her fingers over the spot again, a little harder, she quirked a brow at him in a dare.

With a movement quicker than she could follow, he had spun her around till she was face down on the mattress. She felt his fingers in her own sides and she gasped. "Oh, don't you dare! Roger!"

In her own bravado, she'd forgotten how very ticklish she was. Roger laid on top of her, full length, his hands beneath her arm pits. Cass gasped and wiggled, but that only made Roger's fingers move into her skin. She stilled, quivering, laughing.

"I'm not moving," he told her softly, kissing her at the nape of her neck. "I'm just exploring, like you were, right?"

"Right," she gasped, trying not to break into giggles.

Roger's hands glided down her sides, and she was surprised that she could barely tell the difference between his two hands. They moved exactly the same, the only difference was, the prosthetic skin caught on the fabric of her T, dragging it a little.

Then she lost her train of thought because he tugged the T-shirt up her back.

Cass tried not to wince in embarrassment, but it was really hard. Her weight had been an issue for such a long time. She'd taught herself over the years to be carefree, like it didn't hurt at all what people said or did. But in times like these, when her body was under such intense scrutiny, all those insecurities flooded back. Yes, in the past couple of years she'd learned to eat better and exercise more, but the weight she'd lost didn't seem to matter right this second.



       
         
       
        

Roger ran a finger down the center of her spine, brushing the shirt up and out of his way. Then his hand swept out to cup her side, in almost the same area she'd been tickling him.

Her skin crept away from his touch, quivering, and he chuckled deeply as she squirmed beneath his weight. "Oh, baby, you are just a wonder. I think you're as ticklish as I am right here. That wasn't very smart, daring me, was it? It left you very vulnerable."

She gasped as he ran the lightest of touches over the spot again. "No," she gasped, voice high. "I'm sorry, Roger. I won't do it again. That was a bad move on my part."

"Mm," he murmured. Then he shifted and his lower hips flexed into her.

Cass gasped for a completely different reason. She had a startling flashback of that hard length moving inside her last night, and a frisson of need sliced through her. Her hips shifted on the mattress.

Roger stilled above her. "Damn woman. One little move and you've got me rock hard. It's this perfect damn ass, pushing up into me. You know I'm going to have to fuck you like this, soon."

"Why not now?" she asked, doing a little circular grind.

"Because I only had one condom with me, damn it. And we used it last night."

"There's a strip of condoms in the top drawer of the dresser behind you," she whispered.

Roger froze for a moment, and she almost thought she could feel the pulse tighten his dick even further, before he pushed off of her. She heard him yank open the drawer and go rifling through her panties, then the unmistakable sound of a foil wrapper being ripped open. She glanced over her shoulder and had to draw in a breath.

Roger Stottsberry had the nicest dick she'd ever seen. Last night he'd been kind of hidden, but this morning he stood proudly before her, ready. He glanced at her lying on the bed and something flared in his eyes before he moved behind her. Cass felt him grip the sides of her sleep pants and drag them down and off her feet. Then his strong hands spanned over her ass cheeks, measuring, feeling, spreading. A finger wedged between her thighs, then delved into her heat. Cass arched as he found her slickness and he began to tease her. Burying her face into the comforter, she clutched the fabric in her fists as her hips began to move. She spread her thighs so that he could reach her more easily.

It was incredible, the way he touched her. Not too light, not too fast. He'd been with enough women to know what brought them pleasure. And though she hadn't been looking for sex five minutes ago, he brought it to her hard. She moaned as the first hard clutch of orgasm shuddered through her, stealing her breath, arching her up off the bed. And just as she was regaining her equilibrium, he propped her hips up a couple of inches and slid into her. 

This position felt very different than missionary, and they both cried out as Roger settled into a deep, hard, gliding rhythm, driving toward release. There was no hesitation this time, just a demanding need for pleasure. He made sure that she was taken care of, though, too. Kissing her on the back of the neck, squeezing her hips and her breasts. But it was his words that did her in. Roger told her how perfect she was, and what a blessing it was that he had met her, and that he never wanted to let her go.

That was the one that pushed her over the edge, screaming out to the room in time with his thrusts. Her pleasure was a wild thing, trying to buck him off. And as he found his own release, the wildness consumed him as well. He gasped her name into the room, his weight collapsing on top of her.

Cass didn't say anything, just turned her head to the side so that she could breathe. Aftershocks rippled through her, and she could feel how wet she was. That was new. Roger had gotten her really excited, she thought with a chuckle.

"I just took a shower, damn it," Cassandra groused as she lay beside him, trying to catch her breath.

Roger chuckled. "I'm sorry, baby. Well, no, I'm not."

Laughing deep in his throat he rolled away from her light pinch, then turned back to look at her. Her hair was crazy and her skin make-up free, but he seemed to drink her up with his eyes. She still wore the silly wiener dog T-shirt, but no pants or undies. He'd kind of ripped those off of her.

"It's your fault anyway." He waved at her shirt. "Obviously, you were thinking of my dick when you got up."