Rule's Obsession(22)

With pleasure and need enticing him, egging him on, he pummeled her from behind, his rod thick and hard. Not far from orgasm, an uncontrollable, possessive streak grabbed him by the heart and his fingers sank deeper into her skin.

Unable to stop himself, he lifted her off her knees until the only thing holding her in a constant position were her hands on the mattress and his cock, nailed inside of her.

She began to let out a long, continuous wail, and at the sound of her impending release, he lost it completely. He began hammering at her harder, over and over, harder and harder, slamming into her until his world exploded in pieces around him.

As orgasm held him in its grip, he held himself still inside of her, as deeply as he could go, and let the peace and bliss that was Angie slide through his system and permeate his veins.

Finally, his heartbeat stilled. He knew she'd found her release as well, and he slid to his side, pulling her against him but refusing to extricate himself from her body.

Not yet. He needed this feeling for a moment more; he needed to stay inside of her for just a few seconds longer. Surely that was all he'd need before he started feeling normal again.



Three days later, when Angie opened her front door to Damian, her hair was back to its normal color, a dirty blonde.

She'd decided to go for the full shock factor, and instead of being covered in black from head to toe, since it was hot and summer was approaching, she was dressed in white, capri-length jeans and a pink, short-sleeve top.

She wore silver jewelry, subdued-to-little make-up, and her fingernails and toes were painted an oyster-shell pink.

Nobody on the street would have recognized her as the same girl she'd been twenty-four hours before.

As she opened the door and stood back with a small smile, the facade of calmness she presented to him was matter-of-fact, but on the inside, she was quaking.

What would he think? She knew she was only pleasantly pretty; there certainly wasn't anything to write home about when it came to her looks. She had an okay body, mostly because she worked hard at it, doing at least forty-five minutes of exercise, following along with the television work-out shows she favored, at least four or five times a week.

But with her make-up understated, this was the real Angie. The person she'd been until the ruse she began about a year before, and the person she'd always intending becoming again.

Of course, he'd seen her without make-up many times, she usually showered after sex, with or without him, so her face itself wouldn't come as a surprise to him. But combined with the dark blonde of her hair, who knew how he'd react? When the bad-girl image disappeared, would his interest take a dive as well?

As she held the door open, the first thing she saw was a swift show of pleasure on his features when his eyes met hers. Angie knew the look was simply from seeing her again, and she couldn't help but feel a trickle of delight when she realized he couldn't contain his feelings for her, whatever they were.

But then he frowned as his eyes ran up and down her length. His body stiffened as if he'd just taken a direct hit. She didn't have time to feel disappointment, though, because he took an immediate step forward and invaded her personal space.

One arm wrapped around her waist and with the other hand, he tipped up her chin. He smiled as if he couldn't help himself, and his eyes ran over her again and then settled on her hair for a moment before his eyes fastened to hers once again. "What's all this?" he asked in a darkly intoxicating voice.

With her heart beating loudly in her ears, Angie took a deep breath and shrugged. "Me."

He frowned as if confused and pleased at the same time, and he shook his head. "No it's not."

She studied him for his reactions. "Yeah, it really is."

Pushing her back to arms length, he spun her around, looking her over as if inspecting every inch of her. When she was facing him again, he lifted one eyebrow and questioned, "Blonde?"

"Dark blonde," she answered, "mousy-brown, really."

He let out a harsh laugh as his eyes continued to gleam. "There's nothing mousy about you."

"No?" she challenged.

He shook his head while his fingers trailed up and sifted through her hair. "This is real? This is really your color?"

"You didn't think it was jet-black, did you?"

"No, I knew it wasn't. Not with your pale skin tone."

When he didn't say anything else, she crossed her arms defensively. "What do you think?"

His hot eyes glowed into hers. "Initially, I'd say I like it." He tipped his head as if debating it and then reached down and snagged her wrist with his hand. "But I need something a little more definitive to go on."

With that, he turned and locked the door and pulled her toward the bedroom, his purpose impossible to miss.



Several more weeks slid by and Angie was getting in deep. She was getting in more than deep, she was falling in love hook, line and sinker.

Damn.

What to do . . . what to do?

Her changed appearance hadn't even been a blip on Damian's radar. He treated her no differently. He looked at her the same way; he made love to her the same way.

So now she knew; it wasn't the dark look that he seemed to crave. It was her.

And it made her happy, it really did.

But suddenly their torrid, casual friendship had turned into a blistering, serious relationship.

Damian seemed to want to spend all their free time together, even when he was travelling. He'd made several trips to New York on business, and since he'd come home from the first trip with a scowl on his face, he'd invited her along on every trip after that. But she'd had to work and couldn't get away, not even once. He'd seemed relatively frustrated with that, but there hadn't been anything she could do about it.

He was scheduled to leave again for a week this afternoon, and Angie knew he was chomping at the bit because he wanted her with him. She admitted to herself that she'd like to go with him on his trip, but she didn't have the vacation time to be with him, and she had to have a job . . . right?

But it was too soon for anything to change between them; she had the thought even as the memory of last night beat through her veins. His lovemaking hadn't cooled a bit since they'd been together. If anything, it grew fiercer by the day.

Last night at his downtown condo had been . . . extreme. She blushed hotly just thinking of it. He'd held her pinned to the bedroom wall the first time, and the second time pinned to the side of the bed itself. And if that hadn't been enough, the third time, he'd carried her to the panoramic window that overlooked the city, and stood her on her feet, facing the glass and the gorgeous, evening sky, while he pressed his chest against her back and ordered her to keep her eyes open.

The memory washed over her. The room had been dark. They could see out, but no one would have been able to see in, even if they hadn't been twenty stories high. She'd been overly sensitive from the earlier sessions in his bedroom, but he'd taken his time with her, going down on his haunches and forcing her legs apart while he played with her, readying her for his entry.

He'd stood up, adjusted her stance and plunged in from behind. She'd sucked in a breath as sensation slid down her spine. He'd come twice already in the last couple of hours, so he was leisurely in his seduction. As he moved slowly within her, his hands gripped her hips and his mouth trailed kisses along her neck that landed at her ear. "Are your eyes open?"

"Yes."

"Tell me what you see."

Angie could barely get her thoughts in order as he pushed slowly in and out, moving inexorably within her. "I see . . . lights. And buildings. Clouds. It's . . . it's beautiful."

"You're beautiful," he whispered. He pushed inside and held himself there, his hands coming in front to cup her breasts, his hands sliding sinuously, almost reverently, back and forth over her skin.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Slowly, he slid the hair back from her ear and whispered, "So, so beautiful."

The caress of his voice sent shivers down her spine and she reacted with a small moan.

"I can give you that view, Angie."

Her mind almost splintering with his hands so gentle, she barely comprehended his words. "What?"

"All you have to do is move in here with me," he said softly as his hands ran down her sides and back up again.

"I don't . . . " Angie couldn't think and her words stumbled to a halt.

His mouth slid to her shoulder and he bit into her flesh as if to subdue her. She didn't need subduing; she was pliant in his arms. He took tiny bites with his teeth, then lifted his mouth and blew on her flesh as if to soothe her. "I love your skin." He licked the spot he'd bitten. "I love your scent, baby. You're so fucking sweet." He pulled his hips back and plunged back inside. "I love it when you come." His mouth moved to her ear and he bit her lobe and his voice when it came was stronger, almost harsh. "I love that you don't say the word 'no' to me."

He pulled out, flipped her around until her naked backside was pressed against the cold glass. He lifted her leg and then he plunged back inside. The sensation of the cold at her back and his heat at her front had the oxygen snarling in her lungs.

He held himself within her and lifted her chin with his fingers until she had no choice but to stare up at him. "I want you to move in here with me. I want you to give up your apartment." The tone of seduction left his voice, his words becoming inflexible in his demand.