Joy Ride (22 page)

A quick look told her the room was filled with workout equipment, various pieces of electronic equipment, and some unopened boxes.

“I work out as often as I can. Helps me keep in shape. The rest of this is junk I haven’t figured out where to put yet.” He indicated a door to the right. “That’s a second bathroom, one of the things that sold me on the place. So if I ever put this room to use as a bedroom, it has its own bathroom.”

“It’s…nice. More than I expected.”

Far more. That first night she saw him as a free spirit, immersed in his music and hotter than a furnace in bed. But this man was putting down roots. Creating a solid life for himself. Not at all what she expected. She didn’t think Marc would want these kinds of things.

So maybe you misjudged him, you idiot
.

He turned her toward him and brushed his fingers against her cheek. “Good. I wanted you to like it.”

She sensed the pride of ownership that he was trying to be so casual about.

“Okay, tour’s over.” His voice was husky, edge with hunger and need. “My self-control’s about at an end. If I don’t get a taste of you in the next sixty second I might expire.”

Her pulse raced and her blood heated. Shivers of excitement skated along her spine. Deep in her sex, hunger and need throbbed for this man who made her body sing like his music.

Yes. Hurry, hurry, hurry
.

He tugged her into his bedroom where the only light came from the bedside lamp and the moonlight shining in through the wide window. Emma could feel the tension of restraint radiating from Marc’s body as he pulled her tank top over her head then ran his fingers deliberately through the fall of her hair. He studied every feature on her face before his gaze lowered to the swell of her breasts above the lace of her bra.

Oh, yes, her lingerie was new, too, also courtesy of Annie.

Not that she’d been addicted to dull cotton before, but these undies had real pizzazz. She couldn’t wait for him to get a load of the thong.

Resting his hands on her shoulder, he bent his head to trail a line of kisses across the upper slope of her breasts then licked the fullness with the tip of his tongue. Almost lazily, he drew each nipple into his mouth, silky fabric and all, and sucked on them until they were rigid and taut.

Emma trembled and leaned her head back, closing her eyes, giving herself over to sensation. Marc’s lips were hot and soft at the same time, cruising over her skin with delicate care, igniting her every place they touched. When he reached behind her to release the catch on her bra and slip it off, she almost breathed a sigh of relief. She then cupped her breasts with her palms and held them out to him. An offering. A bold move for her but with Marc, bold was becoming almost a motto.

Fire sparked in his eyes. “Oh, yeah. Hold them just like that so I can look at them and kiss them and lick them. Tonight, Music Lady, I’m going to take it slow if it kills me. And it just might.”

Chapter Eleven

He worshipped her breasts. That was the only word Emma could use to describe what Marc was doing. Standing there, the two of them, him still fully clothed, her naked from the waist up, he concentrated on those mounds as if his life depended on it. He sucked her taut buds, nipped them, soothed them and drew circles around them with the tip of his tongue. Grazed his teeth over the flesh around them. Licked some more. She trembled with the effort to hold the firm mounds out to him, and her legs were so weak she wasn’t sure how long she could continue to stand upright.

At last he raised his head, moved her hands to his shoulders, and kissed her like a starving man, tasting everywhere inside her mouth. She couldn’t stop the flame scorching her with its intensity. She felt it clear down to her core, clear in the wet heat of her body. Her own small tongue slid over his, stroking it, coaxing him deeper inside that hot, delicious cavern.

When he lifted his lips from hers, they were both shaking. He touched her shoulders, her arms, her breasts. His eyes were like hot coals searing her every place he looked. In slow motion, he unsnapped her jeans and lowered the zipper, the rasp of the teeth unnaturally loud in the room. His hands slid inside the jeans and cupped her ass, his breath hissing between her teeth when he touched bare flesh.

“No panties, babe?” His voice had a strangled sound to it.

“Take off the jeans and you’ll find out.” Her new temptress attitude was definitely more Music Lady than Emma. Or maybe the two were merging.

Emma clung to his arms as she toed off her brand new sandals and kicked them to the side. She stood shaking with anticipation while Marc deliberately slid the white denim down her legs. She leaned on him while he knelt and lifted each foot, one at a time, from the jeans before tossing the garment onto the pile with her tank and bra.

“Lordy, lordy.” He sighed when he took in the miniscule white thong, made of all lace.

She was well aware her dark golden curls were visible in the tiny openings of the material. She wet her lips, trying to calm the sudden surge of nervousness. The old Emma still hovered in the background. For now. Marc’s fingers tightened on her hips as he took his time licking the triangle of lace, lapping it and tugging on the soft curls with his teeth. His tongue pushed the lace into her slit and traced the length of her from top to bottom and back again.

The walls of her pussy quivered, and the thong became soaked with her juices. When he took the fabric between his teeth and tugged it down, she had to dig her fingers into his shoulders to keep from sinking to the floor. By the time he rose to his feet, they were both trembling with need.

His eyes never left hers as he shucked his clothes, dropping them on top of hers. She stared at his cock as it sprang free, thick and swollen, rising like a spear from his groin. She wanted to swallow but her throat was suddenly dry, and she remembered the taste of him the last time she took him in her mouth.

As if she’d been doing it forever, she dropped to her knees and cradled Marc’s shaft in her palms. For a woman of her age, she was sexually unsophisticated as far as oral sex was concerned. None of her partners, including Andrew, had been much interested in it. But Marc had used his mouth on her and brought her untold pleasure. He’d liked it when she did it the other night so maybe she could do it again now.

With only a hint of shyness she licked the broad head, capturing the bead of fluid sitting precipitously on the slit. Salty, she thought, but also with an earthy flavor. Just as before. She licked again. And again. Tension radiated from Marc’s body; his hands curled into fists at his sides. Oh, yes, she was pleasing him.

“You’re killing me here, babe,” he growled.

She hummed her satisfaction, opened her lips wider and slid them over the head and onto the fat, wide stalk. The sensation of his thick erection stretching her mouth was so erotic, she persisted, working her mouth down a little at a time. When she’d taken half of it, she slipped one hand between his thighs and cupped his balls, gently squeezing them.

His taste excited her as much as the sudden sense of power the act gave her and pleasure surged through her. After years of placid, uneventful sex, wondering what all the fuss was about, she realized this—
this!
—was what her friends had giggled about. And avoided discussion about for the most part when they figured out she was outside the circle.

Tentatively, she moved her mouth lower but she’d reach a point where she couldn’t take any more of him.

“Stop.” Marc’s fingers pressed into her jawline.

Emma froze. Was she doing something wrong?

Marc’s laugh was laced with frustration. “I’m not saying you’re doing a bad job. The problem is you’re doing a damn good one. But I need you to stop before I lose control.”

He urged her head back and his cock slid from her lips. Gently, he helped her to stand.

“You don’t know how good you make me feel. Jesus. It was incredible.” He threaded his fingers through her hair, pushing it back from her face.

“Then why—?”

He touched a finger to her lips. “First of all—and this is not a slam in any way—I’m guessing you haven’t done this a lot. You have to work up to it, babe. To learn how to angle your head and let me slide down the back of your throat.” He feathered a kiss over her lips. “And I’m going to teach you, because no way are we crossing this off the list. But right now I want you on your back on the bed and me between your legs.”

He lifted her, bent enough to pull back the covers, and placed her carefully on the sheet. He stood looking at her for a long moment, hunger flashing in his eyes, before climbing onto the mattress and kneeling between her thighs.

Emma had never been so aroused in her entire life.

Marc made himself stop and take a deep breath. What was it about this woman that the moment he touched her, his control always frayed? He’d never wanted a woman the way he wanted her. And it wasn’t just sex. If that were the case after the first couple of nights, the edge would be off. He’d have settled down into a pattern with her, and it wouldn’t be every time he saw her. He wanted this to go forward, but hell! She wouldn’t even tell him her name. Yet deep inside, he knew they had something pretty special. He just didn’t know what to do about it.

He took a long time with her body, trailing slow wet kisses starting at the sensitive spot behind her ear, over the slope of her breasts, down her tummy, pausing to swirl the tip of his tongue in the indentation of her navel. He licked the seam where each thigh and hip joined, a light touch that skimmed her flesh before moving down the length of each leg. He paid special attention to her knees and ankles, even the arches of her feminine, graceful feet. He couldn’t seem to get enough of tasting her. He wondered if he ever would.

At last, when she was trembling beneath his hands, he spread the lips of her pussy with his thumbs and allowed himself a long, slow lap of pleasure. Her taste was intoxicating, sweet and tart at the same time, the flavor of it surging through his system. He flicked the nub of her clit back and forth, the bundle of nerves swelling beneath his touch. Her sensual little whimpers made his cock throb and his entire body tighten.

Stiffening his tongue, he thrust it inside her, tiny spasms in the walls of her cunt flexing against the intrusion. It was one of the most erotic things he’d ever experienced. Each time he sensed her closing in on an orgasm he backed off, soothing her then arousing her again.

He was so close to his own release now, the memory of her soft mouth on him an incredible aphrodisiac. He needed her to catch up because he sensed his control fast unraveling. Fucking her with his tongue, he stroked her clit again and again.
Rub, rub, rub
. He drove her up to a precipice, pushing her there, and when he could tell she was hanging by a thread, he sheathed himself with a shaky hand and drove into her with one fluid movement.

He tensed for a long moment, steadying himself, enjoying the feel of her around him like a tight, wet fist. Then he let himself go, pumping into her as she shattered around him, shouting “Music Lady” as he poured himself into her. At last he collapsed forward, exhausted, physically drained but filled with an emotion he dared not give a name to.

Emma couldn’t ever remember being so thoroughly exhausted yet so filled with pleasure at the same time. She hadn’t thought it possible for sex to be mystical, but with Marc that’s exactly what it had become. Every part of her body sang as if touched by some enchanted fog drifting over it and surrounding her. For a fleeting moment, she wished the rest of the world would disappear, and there would be nothing and no one except for her and Marc.

Too bad such a thing wasn’t possible.

Dragging more air into his lungs, he shifted position to pull her into his arms and gave her a gentle kiss. She could taste herself on his lips, an exotic awareness that flooded her senses. Lifting her hands, she smoothed her fingers through his hair, moist with the perspiration of exertion and inhaled his scent, a combination of musk and something earthy. She was sure the outdoors would forever be sexy and intoxicating.

He molded her to his body, her head cradled against his shoulder, one of her hands resting against the damp matte of his chest hair. His hands idly stroked her down the length of her back and the slope of her buttocks.

“You okay?” he asked when his breathing had evened out.

“More than okay. Much, much more.”

“Good. That’s good. So. Favorite television show.”

She frowned. “What?”

“You know. Twenty Questions. I ask, you give me an answer, then it’s your turn.”

“I answered a bunch the other night. Why do you want to know this stuff, anyway?” A tiny knot formed in the pit of her stomach. She couldn’t give away too much information to him. Sure, it was great they were learning more about each other, but what if she slipped and gave him clues she didn’t want him to follow? She was torn between sharing intimacy that went beyond sex and opening the door to the real Emma too wide.

“Like I said earlier. We’ve got something special going here. I don’t want to lose it. I’m hoping I can get you to the point where you trust this enough—trust
me
enough—so we can move forward with this.”

Trust?
Was that possible? She was growing more and more comfortable with him, but she trusting someone meant giving up a part of yourself to them and that little clutch of fear made her hold back a little. What would it take for her to cross that boundary completely? On the one hand she was so ready to do this. On another, fear of rejection held her in its grip.

“ML?” He nudged her. “Where did you go?”

She shook off the mental tap dance. “Huh? Oh, sorry.”
Make an excuse
. “I just get lost listening to your voice, I guess.”

“Not a bad thing. But as I was saying, I want to know anything about you I can.” He winked. “Besides, I’ve got good stuff to tell you tonight, so come on. Play along. Favorite television show.”

“Hmm. The Good Wife.”