AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She could feel every part of him through her clothes. He thrilled her, he scared her. He made her feel as if she'd only been half-alive before they'd met.
His hand settled around her waist. "You and me. We're…"
"Hot." The word slipped out.
"Yes." He dropped his head and took her mouth.
The lateness of the hour. The tension of the game. For whatever reason, the moment his lips touched hers, she lost all sense of restraint.
He scooped his big hands beneath her hips, and his elbow whacked the wall as he lifted her. Their bodies ground together. Her knee bumped into the door. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and gloried in the feel of him pressed so hard against her.
Their kiss turned into a wild oral mating, something primitive and ungovernable, fed by a passion that had taken on a life of its own.
With a hoarse exclamation, he lowered her onto the edge of the small counter behind her and shoved up her sweater and bra. Gathering her breasts in his hands, he lifted them to his mouth. She gripped his belt buckle, while she pushed her other hand under his shirt so she could feel the hard muscles of his chest.
Her thighs were splayed wide to accommodate his legs, and his mouth dived to encompass one nipple. Sliding his hand down over her stomach, he cupped her.
"Don't ever…" he murmured against her moist nipple while he rubbed her through her slacks, "… wear these again."
"No…"
"Only dresses I can pull up." He unfastened her slacks, pushed down the zipper.
"Yes." She grappled with his belt buckle, shoved up his shirt.
"And no panties." His mouth left her breasts. He slipped his hand inside the cotton fabric.
Wet. Hot. He found her.
With a gasp, she pressed her open mouth against his bare chest. The hair was silky under her tongue.
"Here," he murmured hoarsely. "Inside…"
"Do. Yes…" She worked at his zipper, but the fabric caught in the metal teeth halfway down. With a moan of frustration, she slid her hand inside, past the elastic band of his briefs to encircle him.
He made a strangled exclamation and lifted her while she stroked. His shoulder bumped into the wall. He braced his left foot on the platform that held the commode and worked at her slacks and panties, but their removal was difficult because of the confined space. She felt the wet cold of the basin on her buttocks and his heat in her hand. His upper arm hit one wall, his opposite elbow the other. He was finally forced to use the toe of his shoe to free her garments from their snare around her ankles. Kissing her deeply, he worked her with his fingers.
Her hand on him trembled. She had never done this to a man, but suddenly her hand wasn't enough. It was too distant from her heart. She pushed him as far away as she could manage and slipped from the edge of the basin. Turning her hips to the side, she bent into an impossibly awkward position and parted her lips. A shudder swept through her as she lost a new virginity to him.
It was thrilling. Deliciously sweet to do such a thing to this man.
Sweat broke out on his forehead as he felt the gentle tug of her mouth. He was abandoning all his principles, all his resolutions, and at that moment, he didn't care. The only commitment he'd made was to himself, and he could work that out later.
Through his raging excitement, he observed the tender, vulnerable curve of her neck. Many women had served him in this way, so why did this time seem so different? And it was different. There was a sweet ineptitude about that soft, warm suction that thrilled him even as it mystified him.
He caressed her hips, clenched her cheeks as his passion drove him higher. A dim internal voice pointed out to him that she wasn't doing it exactly right. Logic said she should be a pro at this, but the sweet awkwardness of that soft mouth defeated logic.
He stroked her hair, and a fierce wave of tenderness swept through him. Without planning it, he found himself drawing her up. Regardless of how she looked, how she dressed, how she behaved—regardless of his own raging need and every single damning thing he knew about her, he couldn't take her like this. She deserved something better from him than a mile-high pop in an airplane John.
"No," she whispered, and he saw something both bereft and bewildered in her amber eyes that tore his gut apart.
He kissed her lips and lost himself in that swollen mouth. She sobbed his name, shuddered, and he understood she had slipped past reason. Setting aside the violent demand of his own body, he stroked her with a deep and gentle movement of his hand. She dug her fingers into his shoulders, and the sound of those short, frenzied pants nearly drove him over the edge.
"Phoebe, darlin', you're killing me." With a hoarse exclamation, he plunged his tongue into the moist recesses of her mouth. When she shattered, he swallowed her cries.
She fell against him, her body limp and vulnerable, the nape of her neck moist with soft blond tendrils clinging to it. He felt her chest heave as she tried to draw breath. She attempted to slide her thighs together. At the same time, she shuddered, and he knew she wasn't done. He couldn't leave her like this, and he stroked her again.
She climaxed almost instantly. She gasped for breath and then began to tremble, signaling that her need still wasn't satisfied. He resumed his stroking.
