Just My Type (11 page)
He wanted to kiss it better. With everything in him, he wanted to lick across the now-smooth skin and appreciate her work.
“You wouldn’t have to,” he said, his tongue feeling twice its usual size. “You’re gorgeous.” All the blood rushed from his head as she shifted her thighs apart. “You mean it?” Sara lay on the top of the white linen comforter, her hair hanging free, her cheeks flushed, her lips parted. She was still propped on her elbows, jutting her breasts forward, the nipples begging to be touched.
One leg hung over the edge of the bed, the other was bent slightly at the knee, showing the dewy pink folds of her sex, ready and hot. For him.
Mac drew in a long, ragged breath.
He couldn’t touch her. She was offering him her heart. He knew that. Which he could not—would not—take. She was offering something else as well; something he could perhaps take without guilt. Or at least without as much.
Her innocence.
“You want an orgasm, right now, in this room, with me?” he asked. He reached down and adjusted the front of his pants, the erection behind his zipper hard and nearly painful.
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Just My Type
Her eyes followed his hand and she licked her lips. She nodded. “Definitely.”
“You trust me, princess?”
She met his eyes. “Absolutely.”
“I have more experience.”
“I know.” She frowned slightly, as if not liking the reminder of other women.
“So you should do whatever I say, right?”
“Okay.”
“Touch your right nipple.”
61
Chapter Five
Sara hesitated. He’d just told her to touch herself, like in the cab. Not exactly what she’d been expecting, but then again, she hadn’t exactly expected to have Mac in her room right now. She’d hoped, planned, imagined, sure. Expected…no.
She lifted her right hand and cupped it over her breast. She shivered at the contact and let her eyes slide shut, wanting more than anything for the hand to be Mac’s.
“The nipple, Sara,” he said. “Touch it.”
She ran the pad of her index finger over the firm point. And sighed. It felt good. Having Mac watch her do it felt even better. Naughty. And wonderful.
“Harder.”
Her eyes flew open. She barely recognized his voice. She had never even imagined the look on his face. It made everything in her feel hot and tingly and on edge.
She took her nipple between her thumb and first finger and squeezed gently. Her breath escaped between her teeth in a hiss.
“Now lower,” he said roughly.
She focused on him. His thumb was hooked in the waistband of his khaki shorts. She could see the hard press of his erection behind the fly and knew he wanted her, no matter how hard, or why, he resisted.
“Lower?” she asked, sliding her other hand down over her ribs and stomach. She stopped short of where she knew Mac wanted to see her hand.
“Between your legs, princess.”
She spread her legs a bit more. “I want to see you too,” she said as his eyes focused between her legs.
“No.”
“Yes.” She slid her legs together again.
His eyes lifted to hers. “What do you mean?”
“Unzip, Mac,” she said. She couldn’t help her smile. He was the man she’d known, trusted and loved for years now. Today he was the man who was making her so hot she could barely breathe.
His eyes blazed for a moment as his fingers paused over the button on the front of his shorts. “You sure?”
“Completely.” She lifted her hand to her breast again and tugged on her nipple.
Just My Type
He groaned and undid the button, then dragged the zipper down over his impressive erection. A moment later his shorts dropped.
“I knew you’d wear boxers,” she said absently, looking at the hard length evident behind the soft blue cotton.
“You’ve imagined me in my underwear?” he asked, an eyebrow cocked.
“And stripping you out of them,” she said, meeting his eyes directly.
“It’s a day for fantasies to come true, I guess.” His eyes dropped to the area between her legs again.
He hooked his hand in the elastic at his waist and pushed the boxers down to drop in a pool at his feet.
She couldn’t have, at that point, remembered the color of said underwear. She was completely and totally focused on the almost-intimidating erection rearing up in front of her. He was huge. Not that she had personal experience to compare to, but she had been on a number of websites lately. Once she’d gotten past the initial shock, she’d moved quickly to curiosity.
“Whoa.”
“Thanks,” he said dryly.
“My imagination didn’t do you justice.”
“Thanks.” He sounded hoarse.
“Neither did the Internet.”
“Okay.” His voice was strained now.
“I mean, seriously, Mac—”
“Okay, okay.” He reached down and covered the sight with his hand. “Knock it off.”
“What? I’m loving this.”
“You act like you’ve never seen a penis before.”
“I haven’t. In person.”
He squeezed his eyes shut. “Shit.”
“That’s romantic.”
“Sorry.” He opened his eyes and gave her a half grin. “I wasn’t exactly going for romantic, though.” She smiled back. That grin was Mac. That reminded her of every single reason why she’d waited for him to be the one in this room with her at this moment.
“Go for hot. And amazing.”
“I’m there, honey. Honest.”
“Can I touch you?” He’d said
he
wouldn’t touch
her
…
“Hell no.” He looked appalled at the idea.
She frowned. “I’ll be gentle.” She sat up.
He stepped back. “No, Sara.” He started to bend over. “We have to get dressed, this is crazy.” She fell back and spread her legs. “What do you want me to do?”
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Erin Nicholas
He froze, half bent, his eyes immediately zeroing in on her hand on top of her curls.
Slowly, he straightened. And licked his lips. She felt a wave of heat wash over her at the look on his face.
He swallowed with some difficulty. “Touch yourself.”
“If I can pretend it’s you touching me.”
“Please.”
Her fingers went lower, brushing over her most sensitive spot, making her suck in her breath.
“More.”
Her middle finger found her clitoris and she pressed, her breath hitching as she watched him watch her. The heat in his eyes was the most stimulating thing she’d ever imagined.
“Now you,” she said.
His eyes met hers and he took his cock in hand. He stroked to the base and back up, shuddering as he did it.
“More,” he demanded.
She circled her clitoris with her finger, then stroked lower, touching the hot wetness below. She pulled the liquid heat up and over the sensitive nerve endings, breathing faster. Her other hand cupped and squeezed her breast, tugging on her nipple.
Mac stood watching, stroking himself as well, palming the shaft and squeezing as she longed to do.
The sight made her inner muscles tighten further and she was suddenly on the brink of climax.
“Mac,” she breathed, needing to say his name at this moment.
“Yeah, honey.”
“I need you, Mac.” She felt the building tension, also somehow aware she couldn’t do this without him.
“Go deeper,” he ground out. He’d moved closer to the bed, his knee bumping against hers.
The feel of his skin against hers was almost enough to send her over the edge. Almost. She couldn’t believe she was doing it, even as her middle finger moved lower and slipped inside the silky heat. She closed her eyes. Though she didn’t want to miss the sight of Mac, for a moment she couldn’t help it. The pleasure was intense. Almost more than she could take.
“God,” Mac choked out. “I can’t believe this.”
She moaned and opened her eyes. “Please, Mac.”
He stepped closer and put his knee on the bed, dipping the mattress.
“Oh, yes.” He was going to touch her finally. Her own hand withdrew.
“No.” He grabbed her wrist. “Keep going.” His eyes were hot on hers. “Please.” The last word was a quiet plea and there was enough emotion to make her return her hand.
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Just My Type
She circled over her clitoris, moaning, more at the look in Mac’s eyes as he watched than at the amazing sensations. “I need you,” she whispered, begging him to help her to the summit.
Mac stroked himself, then leaned onto one arm, elbow locked. His erection pressed against her hip and she cried out.
“Keep going,” he said through gritted teeth.
Then he slipped two long, thick fingers into her and she cried out again.
She gasped. “Oh, yes.”
He pressed his hips forward, his hard, hot shaft against her hip, burning her skin. “Sara,” he groaned.
She lifted her pelvis and tried to turn, encouraging him to slide into her truly. He continued with his fingers only. Still, that seemed to be enough.
She felt the tension coiling tighter and hotter.
This
was what she had been waiting for.
This
was what she knew, somehow, only Mac could give her.
“Sara.” His breath was hot against her cheek.
“Mac.” And suddenly she was there. Amazingly. Everything came together and then shattered. She arched against his hand.
A moment later, she felt him shudder and the sensation of fluid heat against her hip.
He collapsed beside her and she turned into him immediately. Her sigh was deep and full.
Two minutes, which felt like two seconds, passed before Mac swore softly near her ear and pushed himself swiftly up off the bed. He didn’t look at her. Instead, he continued muttering under his breath as he swept up his clothes and stalked to the door.
She pushed herself up onto one elbow, watching him, waiting for him to look at her.
He jerked his pants up, yanked the door open, stomped out and slammed it behind him.
Well,
that
was definitely not romantic.
Nice one, Mac
. He had been berating himself throughout showering and changing clothes.
You sure
shocked the hell out of her.
Even when he was chewing himself out he chose sarcasm.
She hated every
second. She’s never going to want to do
that
again. Good going.
Ha.
On the contrary, Sara had been with him—and more—the whole time. She’d been excited by what he’d wanted her to do and she’d done it.
Had she ever.
Okay, so he needed a new plan. Or not a new plan, maybe he needed to step up the current plan. He had to solve this problem before they got home. Or before he lost his mind.
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Erin Nicholas
He jerked his door open, determined to go and find her, tell her all the nasty things he was into—in a public place, with both of them fully dressed—and then hustle her pretty lit scandalized butt onto the next plane out of here.
He nearly plowed her over.
Sara was standing outside of his condo, looking as if she’d been about to knock. Startled for a moment, she didn’t immediately smile or speak. When she did, the smile shot straight to his gut and brought back every memory of every centimeter of skin and every little sound she’d made.
“What are you doing?” He scowled down at her.
“Seeing if you’re ready.”
He was a smart man. Experienced, able to learn from his mistakes. He was
not
going to give her seductive openings with questions like “ready for what?”.
“We’re going to go have dinner,” he told her firmly.
“That’s why I’m here.”
“It is?”
“Yeah, I’m starving. I worked up an appetite.”
Stupid, stupid.
He’d asked a question. He should have known better.
“We’re eating in public.”
“Okay.” She shrugged.
“And you’re changing clothes.”
Sara looked down at the turquoise tank top and khaki shorts she wore. They were pretty conservative, especially compared to what she had been wearing, but it showed too damned much skin for him.
Any
of Sara’s skin was enough to remind him of how she smelled, felt, tasted…sounded.
“This is the most covered up I can be out of my suitcase,” she told him, obviously reading his mind about the reason for his protest.
That didn’t make him any happier. She already knew how much he wanted her. Knowing he was completely tied up in knots whenever she was around was not going to be a good thing. Sara was sweet, but she’d proved she was not above using
every
weapon in her arsenal when she wanted something. Or someone.
“I’ll buy you something.” He headed for the main building on the resort, approximately two blocks from his condo. There were two or three shops there and he was convinced he’d find her something there that would at least allow him to make it through dinner. Sara sighed and followed behind him.
“Sweatshirt and sweatpants or kimono?” he asked five minutes later.
Sara looked at him like he’d just asked if she wanted to be flogged or burned at the stake. “It’s eighty-one degrees out! I’m not wearing sweatshirts and pants!” 66
Just My Type
“Okay, kimono it is.” He pulled the smallest one—which was still going to be huge on her—in bright peacock blue, from the rack and started for the register.
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
He wasn’t and he was growing tired of her not listening to anything he said.
“I’m not kidding. You’re wearing this, or you’re staying in your room.”
“If you’re there…”
“Alone. Completely alone.”
“Maybe
you
should be the one to stay completely alone in his room. You seem to be the one with the problem,” she said crossly.
“I am, Sara,” he snapped. “I’m totally the one with the problem.”
“Because you’re unsatisfied. If you would have just…”
He turned on her, suddenly furious. He was trying to be a good guy! A good friend to her brother. A decent human being. A keep-everything-in-his-pants non-pervert. She’d been pushing and tempting and teasing since he’d gotten here and he was at the end of his rope.