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“No, no, and no.”
“Seriously?” All playfulness gone, he whirled her around in his hold and stared at her as if she had to be lying. “What the hell size is this thing? A postage stamp?” Then he grinned triumphantly and reached for her hair. “I know. The back of your neck.“
?
?Nope.” She took pity on him and stepped back to draw her cami over her head. She tossed it aside and let her arms fall, more than a little dazed herself by the look of awe that crossed his features. “It’s a forget-me-not. The color’s a little off. Mine’s a bit more purple than the actual flowers. Normally they’re a medium blue.”
“Oh Christ.” With reverent fingers he sketched the tattoo along the curve of her breast. “Damn.”
She had to laugh. “Are you okay?”
“You’ve been hiding this under your clothes, and I had no idea.” The rawness of his voice coupled with the overwhelming desire in his dark blue eyes set off a wicked pulse in her core. “It was too dark for me to see anything the other night, and the color is so light… I thought it was something tiny, in some discreet, usual place.”
“No.”
“Fuck, Alexa.” Then his mouth was on her, his teeth pulling on the nipple while she cried out and cupped his head in hands that shook. He drew harder and she watched him, unable to tear her focus away. The bite of pain sent a bolt of excitement through her, and she gasped at the heat coursing through her lower belly. He licked his way around the tattoo, his eyes flicking up to hers as he lapped at the petals that encircled the hardened peak. “You taste so good. I want more. You gonna give it to me?”
She barely had time to comprehend what he was saying before he lifted her up as if she were as light as one of her ornamental trees and set her down on the wide arm of the couch. He tugged off her shorts and threw them aside, driving one hand up the center of her torso to hold her still while he brought his lips down between her legs.
“Dillon!” Her cry stunned her, because she couldn’t have stopped the sound if she tried. He didn’t give her a chance to catch up to his intentions, just left her clinging to her buttery leather sofa with one hand and his prickly scalp with the other. She fumbled to hold on as he slanted his mouth over her and gave her the most erotic French kiss of her life. “Don’t stop.”
He didn’t answer, and apparently he didn’t need to breathe either. He just latched onto her sex and used his tongue to drive her out of her mind, sweeping up and down as quick as a brushfire. Never landing anywhere long enough to truly make her burn, just igniting a million little sparks along the way. She arched against him, her need spiraling higher with each swipe. And then he circled in on her clit, sucking hard, and she raked her nails down the back of his neck in warning.
It was too soon, too fast. She wanted to take that ride with him. But he just kept on, laving her tight knot of nerves with short, focused strokes that increased the throb in her blood. The music built, the sax somehow getting louder, the floorboards beneath her tensed feet seeming to pound with its sexual thrum.
And she built too, until he slipped two thick fingers into her and she crested, coming up off the sofa with her cries spilling from her throat. She could only see him kneeling between her thighs, one hand on his cock, stroking, while he extended her pleasure until it straddled the edge of pain.
When he finally stood, she couldn’t speak. She just watched him don a condom through hazed eyes, her hands idly cupping her swollen breasts. Adding more fuel to the aftershocks still spiraling through her system.
He noted the gesture with a growl as he bent to run the tip of his tongue down her throat, pulling a gasp from her as he nudged aside one of her hands and reclaimed her nipple as if it belonged to him. Right then she would’ve given him anything before he even asked.
He lifted her thigh, notching it on his hip and moving between her legs. “I like you like this. So soft and warm.” She might’ve swooned had she not been partially reclining already. He rested his hand on her mound and toyed with her sensitive clit with his thumb. “And wet. You’re so wet for me, aren’t you?”
Once again he didn’t give her time to answer before holding her leg wide and feeding his cock into her entrance. His girth stretched her sodden flesh, arousing her nerve endings all over again with his patient thrusts. He took his time sinking deep, then held her there, rocking his hips without moving his length so that she felt as if he’d completely opened her to him.
Spread wide like that she should’ve felt vulnerable, especially under his molten stare. Instead confidence and yearning sizzled through her system, urging her to again cup her breasts and pinch her eager nipples. He groaned and powered into her harder, the link of their gazes so strong she felt steeped in him. In and out.
Nothing else mattered but them, plastered together in the sultry night. With the jazz music swelling around them, and the breeze caressing their sweat-covered bodies with rain-scented, humid air.
She scooted closer and angled so that she could drop her head on the back of the couch, moaning when he drew her legs straight up and pulled them tightly together. Her toes flexed in the air as her needy sex clutched at him, her hips rolling up into driving strokes. He held her ankles in his hands, using them as fulcrums to bear down with more force, to slide through her slick walls and kindle the embers of her earlier orgasm.
Since she couldn’t get her hands on him anymore, she dragged her nails over the leather cushions, not caring if she damaged them. Not caring if her moans seeped into the alley below her window. At that moment, anyone could hear. Hell, she wanted them to.
“You’re going to come.”
His voice invaded her mind, reaching her where she’d become a mindless mass of pleasure. She whipped her head back and forth, bumping it on the hard frame of the couch. Thank God for its wide padded arms, though she doubted she would’ve felt it if he’d been fucking her on a bed of nails. Her entire consciousness had centered on his plunges, each one dragging her further away from that safe place where she’d been before she met him. Now she was crazed and hungry, desperate for him to fill her up with his thick shaft. Wild for him to lay her bare and take what he needed, as long as he gave her back as good as he got in return.
Again and again he hit that spot inside her, the one that made her legs jerk and tremble in his grip, and she whimpered when he sank in deep and his balls slapped her ass. After that she didn’t hear anything but her own endless moans, erupting from her lips while she bowed up to meet his downward slides. He pulled her legs up high, embedding himself to the root inside her, and she screamed, her sheath spasming so hard with her climax that he shouted an oath and followed her.
He released her ankles and slumped over, propping one hand on the cushion beside her head. The other caressed her breast. “It’s that damn tattoo,” he said, making her laugh. “I’m not responsible for my actions.”
Lazily, she trailed a hand up his spine. When had she last felt so damn amazing? Oh yeah, the other night, when they’d been together on the roof. “So can we be irresponsible again soon?” She shifted to alleviate the twinge in her back from the awkward position crumpled against the sofa. Still worth it. “Please?”
His laughter saturated her senses, as thick and sweet as the afterglow shimmering over her damp skin. “Count on it, princess,” he murmured, and she smiled into the darkness.
Sometimes being a princess wasn’t so bad.
Chapter Seven
