Flirting With Disaster (13 page)

She sat down on her bed, and now her mouth was even with his navel. She kissed his stomach, letting him feel the heat of her tongue as she reached for the button of his pants.

When she inhaled, the scent of his skin filled her. It was all she could taste and smell. She liked being filled with him, so she breathed in again and lowered the zipper he’d so hurriedly pulled up only minutes before. She tugged down his briefs, and then he was free. And big. And hard. Now the scent of him was stronger, and her mouth watered, some animal part of her let loose as sure as she’d freed his cock.

When she wrapped her fist around him, he grunted as if he were shocked. And God, he felt nice. Thick and solid. His skin sliding over his shaft as she stroked him. She wanted that inside her. Needed it.

“Jesus, Isabelle,” he murmured. “That feels so good.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, not taking her eyes off him. His skin was dark against her hand, the head of his cock flushed with blood. She stroked him, watching as his thighs grew tense, as his hips thrust forward. When she squeezed more firmly, a clear drop of fluid gathered at the tip. When she smeared it with her thumb, Tom hissed.

“Isabelle.” His voice was a low rumble. “Tell me you have condoms.”

Still circling him with her thumb, she smiled. “And here I thought you were the kind to always be prepared.”

“I...wasn’t expecting...”

She laughed. “Of course I have condoms. The drawer next to my bed.”

“Thank God. I need to fuck you.”

Those words went through her like a shot. She wanted everything from his body; she wanted to lick him and suck him and stroke him, but mostly she wanted
that
.

Tom shucked the rest of his clothes then reached for her pants. He had those stripped off in moments. Isabelle lay back and stretched her arm up to the bedside table to fumble in the drawer. She finally found a condom box wedged between her vibrators and handed it to him as he knelt on the bed next to her.

She liked looking up at him this way, his lean body so strong above her and his cock so proud and thick. She was already spreading her thighs for him, but Tom lay down at her side instead of sliding between her legs.

Poised above her on his elbow, he cupped one of her breasts before catching her nipple between his thumb and finger. “Look at you. Just as perfect as that painting.”

Before she could respond, he ducked his head and sucked her nipple into his mouth. Isabelle bit back a cry. His hand plucked at her other nipple for a moment, making her back arch as she bit her lip. But then his hand slid down. Slowly. Down her ribs to her navel before shaping one hip. Then back up to the curve of her belly and into the curls between her legs.

His cock pushed against her thigh.

She waited, holding her breath, but he only cupped her for a moment, his big hand cradling her pussy, adding his warmth to hers. Then his middle finger slipped over her wetness, sliding into the seam of her body. Isabelle gasped, her hips jumping.

“You feel so sweet,” he whispered. “So wet and warm.”

“Yes,” she breathed. Yes, she felt perfect. Her body the exact opposite of his. Soft and yielding to his fingers as she parted for him.

His fingertips grazed her clit, and she gasped again.

“Shh,” he cautioned, stroking her now. She bit her lip, trying to hold back a cry of pleasure. But when he circled her clit and bit down on her nipple at the same time, she cried out.

“Shh,” he repeated, his breath cold where he’d sucked at her.

She nodded and pressed her mouth tightly closed, not wanting her friends to hear, if only because it would be awkward for them. But she rocked her hips up to meet the short strokes of his fingers. Yes. Yes. It felt so good. So unexpected after the familiarity of her own hands. Not as firm or sure as her touch, but new and teasing and— “Fuck,” she groaned, pressing up into his hand.

His fingers stroked a little faster, a little harder, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted more. “Fuck me,” she begged, pulling his hair so he’d look up at her. When he raised his head, she kissed him. “Fuck me, Tom,” she said against his lips. “Please. Now.”

A low growl was his only response, but he was kneeling between her legs, thank God, and tearing open a condom wrapper within seconds. She watched greedily as he rolled the condom on, watched it stretch over that perfect cock, and she ached inside, hollowed out with need.

He fisted himself and eased between her thighs, and the first stroke of his broad head against her was a torturous promise. He stroked against her again, and she dug her fingers into his shoulders to urge him on. She wanted everything.

He notched against her and pushed in, just a few inches, but that was enough to make her moan.

“Shh,” he murmured, then “Shh” again as he slowly sank another inch deeper.

“Oh, God,” she whispered as her body stretched for him, and the ache spread out. Finally, he paused, his hips flush against hers. Both of them were breathing hard. His back was slick with sweat under her clutching hands. And she was full. As full as she could be. Then he drew back and thrust.

“Ah!” she cried, unable to hold back at the nearly painful pleasure. She tried to swallow the sound, but when he sank deep again, she couldn’t help it.

“We have to be quiet,” he breathed.

“It feels so good,” she said, eyes squeezed shut, trying to hold it all in.

“I know.” He pushed more slowly this time, and she squirmed with lust. “I know. Can you be quiet?”

Isabelle shook her head. She couldn’t. If it felt this good at the start, there was no way. “Please don’t stop,” she begged. “Please.”

“Shh.” His hips hardly moved now, his cock just barely sliding in and out in short, slow, careful strokes.

No. She
needed
this. She opened her eyes to find his face stark and drawn, his gaze on her face. “Please fuck me,” she moaned. “Hard. Deep.”

He cursed, his head dropping for a moment, his forehead brushing her cheek. “Yes,” he finally answered, raising his head to meet her gaze. He lifted a hand and laid it over her mouth, moving slowly, studying her the whole time. Isabelle felt her own eyes go a little wide as his palm settled over her lips. He waited a moment, holding his breath. And then he thrust hard.

Isabelle cried out against his hand. It pressed more firmly to her mouth as his cock sank as deep as it could. Electricity shot through her, sparkling through her body as she felt the weight of him everywhere. Between her legs, against her hips, deep in her pussy, along her belly and then all the way up to her mouth where he held her down.

He found a rhythm and fucked her with deep, sure strokes, and it was perfect. Perfect and raw and tight, and Isabelle wanted to come like this. With his cock inside her and his hand catching her cries.

She dragged a cruel hand down his back, scratching her fingernails hard against him. Tom arched up, his hips slapping into her, and Isabelle worked her hand down along her belly.

When he realized what she needed, Tom eased up onto his knees, wedging them on either side of her hips and resting his weight on his left hand to give her space. His right hand stayed tight on her mouth, though, and it was a good thing, because when she touched her clit, she couldn’t hold back a desperate, hoarse cry.

She groaned into his hand as her nerves went wild with the bright pleasure of her tight clit and the duller, deeper pressure of his cock as it stretched her open with every thrust. She felt invaded by him, over and over. Owned by his cock and filled so tight she felt she might burst.

He fucked her faster, and her muffled cries became rhythmic as everything inside her coiled up into one hot pulse. Her thighs shook. His hand pressed harder to her mouth and she exploded, rocking up into his thrusts and screaming against his hard grip. She spasmed around his cock, her body trying to bring him with her, wanting his come, needing it. She was still shaking when he finally went stiff above her, swallowing a low moan of pleasure as he pulsed inside her.

He stayed still for a long time, breathing hard, head bent and eyes shut. Finally, he lifted his hand from her face. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

Isabelle blinked dazedly. She licked her lips. “For what?”

He opened his eyes, his pupils wide and black as he stroked his thumb over her jaw. “I didn’t want to be rough like that. I just...”

She smiled and let her eyes fall shut. “It was everything I wanted.”

He sighed with what sounded like relief then eased from her body and bed. He returned a minute later and lay down beside her, one arm slung over his eyes. “Jesus,” he said.

“Yeah,” she agreed. Her hips protested as she straightened her legs and stretched before curling into his side with a little purr of satisfaction. Her muscles felt liquid and warm, and she must have dozed for a few minutes. She opened her heavy eyes to find him staring at the ceiling, not looking the least bit sleepy.

“Hey, it’s okay,” she whispered. “You can go.”

He jerked up a little in surprise. “What?”

“You can go. You don’t have to worry about how to slip away without pissing me off.”

His brow drew into that deep frown she’d become familiar with. “It’s not that I want to go,” he protested.

“But you need to, don’t you?”

“Shit.” He dropped his head back to the pillow. “I’m really sorry.”

“It’s okay, Tom. This isn’t love. It wasn’t even a date.”

His frown didn’t budge. “Okay.”

Isabelle sat up and looked at him. Despite the frown, his eyes immediately went to her breasts. Men were so easy about some things. “Why do you look unhappy?” she asked. “I don’t think I could frown right now if I wanted to. Were you faking it? Be honest.”

That finally nudged his frown away. His mouth actually tipped up at the edges. “If I’d come any harder, we would’ve been heading to the pharmacy for a backup plan.”

Isabelle collapsed back onto the bed, laughing too hard to keep her exhausted body upright. “Don’t worry. I’ve got an IUD. So you just always look miserable after sex? Please tell me you’re not one of those guys who needs the girl to be in love or it’s dirty. Because then I’ll have to remind you that you thoroughly enjoyed it all.”

“That’s definitely not it. And I hope you haven’t met any guys like that.”

“We’ve all met guys like that.”

Isabelle felt his hand touch hers, and he weaved their fingers loosely together. She hadn’t realized she’d managed to accumulate tension in the past minute, but it slipped away when he touched her. “My first boyfriend,” she said, surprising herself. “My first everything, actually.”

He turned toward her. She felt the mattress dip and felt his chest against her arm, but she kept her eyes closed.

“He was an ass?”

She smiled at that, but she wished the lights were off now. “In retrospect, yes. He was an incredible ass. He liked that I was a virgin. Liked that I
waited
for him. He talked shit about other girls who put out, and it made me feel special. So I suppose I was an ass, too.”

“Well, that’s understandable. You wanted it to be special with him.”

“Exactly. It wasn’t until later that I started examining the mystery of why those girls before me were sluts and he was a good guy. It’s a mystery of millennia.”

“I wouldn’t know. I was always just pleased.”

She finally opened her eyes. He was smiling at her now, looking much more like a guy who’d just had great sex. “Are you pleased now?”

“You have no idea how much.” He kissed her.

A chaste kiss, really. A touch of their lips, but he was smiling and sweet, and something inside her tried to open up. She desperately shoved it closed again.

“So stop frowning,” she said.

He nodded. “I’m sorry. It’s just...I shouldn’t be here.”

“Oh.” She was feeling sorry now. She took his face between her hands and kissed him again. “You’re the boss. I get it. You probably don’t want to be caught screwing the crazy neighbor during an assignment. Whereas for me, it really bolsters my quirky artistic vibe.”

He shook his head, but she gave his chest a little shove. “Go on. Get out of here before one of your men checks in and finds you with your pants down. For God’s sake, you don’t even have your gun on, Marshal.”

“Safety first,” he said, but he got out of bed.

She watched as he looked for his pants. “I like your ass.”

He smiled. “Thanks.”

“You look really good for your age.”

“Hey! For my age? How old do you think I am?”

“Forty-two?”

“Shit,” he muttered. “Did you look at my license?”

“No. And I was only teasing. You look good for any age. You’ll have to let me touch you more later.”

He glanced over his shoulder as he pulled his pants on. “Later?”

“I mean, assuming you want to. But I was hoping for at least one more round. Not to reveal my hand, but you’re really good at that.”

“At what?” he asked, but she could see the edges of his pleased smile.

“At fucking.”

Now his cheek was practically creased from a grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. But if you want to hear more about it, you’ll have to come back again.”

He chuckled as he slipped on his wrinkled dress shirt. “I promise I won’t need luring.”

“You didn’t seem quite sure earlier.”

He seemed to be buttoning slowly, and when he turned to face her, he wasn’t smiling anymore. “I’m sorry, Isabelle. This isn’t how I’d want to do this. It’s...complicated.”

Her heart fell a little, but she nodded and told her heart to stay the hell out of it. “It’s just the job? You’d be honest if it were another commitment?” She wasn’t sure why she’d asked. Someone who would lie about a girlfriend would lie about the cover-up, but she wouldn’t be able to face herself later if she didn’t press him. She could at least go to the effort of making a liar lie.

But he looked so chagrined by the question, she couldn’t help but believe him a little. “It’s just the job,” he promised. “I swear.”

“All right. Then come over again sometime, if you can get away.”

He sat next to her and smoothed a hand down her neck to her collarbone. Then he gently cupped one of her breasts. “You’re kind of amazing,” he said, his eye on what his hand was doing.