Last Call (12 page)

But with Gavin looking at her through the
thick fringe of his lashes, heat and desire evident in his hooded
expression, she supposed it didn’t really matter what the room and
furnishings looked like.

“I’ve never met anyone who’s affected me the
way you do.” Her nerves were getting the better of her, making her
ramble. And her heart was planting itself on her sleeve, in
wide-open view. “What little bit I slept last night, I dreamt of
you. The rest of the time, I tossed and turned, thinking about
you.” She shrugged. “I guess you’re too hot to be forgotten.”

He grinned and dropped his head, appearing
embarrassed by the compliment. When he lifted his gaze from the
floor, his eyes were heavy lidded and filled with a hunger that
made her tremble.

He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled
her to him. “Feel that?” It was impossible to miss the prominent
erection pressing into her stomach, but he rocked his hips into her
for emphasis.

He brushed a wisp of hair from her face and
dropped his forehead to hers. “That’s what you do to me. I’m like
an out-of-control teenager. In the shower this morning, I imagined
you were there with me.” He nipped at her ear, then nibbled a path
down her neck. “It was your hands on me… stroking me.”

His words and the mental image of him
pleasuring himself snapped the last thread of her control. Enough
talking about what they did to each other mentally, it was time to
get busy physically. She pushed him backward until his legs hit the
bed. Playing along, he toppled over and landed spread eagle across
the mattress. His long, muscular body stretched taut, and his gaze
grew hotter as he watched and waited for her to make the next
move.

All this prime hunk of man… where to start…
where to start…

She dropped the box of condoms on the bed,
then crawled next to him. She felt like a cat, filled with the urge
to rub up against him, while kneading his flesh with her short
nails. She straddled his thighs and aligned her sex with the hard
ridge of his erection.

He closed his eyes and sank his teeth into
his lower lip as a groan vibrated up from his chest. A sharp, hard
thrust of his hips had her whispering, “Oh, God,” as she let her
head fall back and rode the sensations rolling through her
body.

More. She wanted more. But she also wanted to
take things slowly and make this last. She ran her palms up his
sides, feeling the ridges of muscle and rib as she made the
journey. When she reached his neck, she stretched out on top of him
and drew in a deep breath. “You smell good.”

She rested her palms on his pecs, lifted her
weight from his chest, and ground her sex against his, riding him
as if they were already joined. “And you feel amazing.”

An unintelligible grunt passed his lips, and
she smiled. Rendering a man incapable of speech was heady stuff.
Standard missionary position had never given her this kind of
sexual confidence or prowess, and she liked the accompanying surge
of power.

She slid his tie through her fingers,
enjoying the soft, sensual feel of the silk. Carefully, she
loosened the knot, then wrapped the fabric around her fist and
pulled it free of his shirt. “Hmmm… This might come in handy
later.”

His eyes flared in anticipation, and he
slipped his hands under the hem of her tank top. “Stop that,” she
said, smacking at his hands as she sat up and slid back out of
reach. “I can't concentrate with you touching me.”

He grinned and let his arms fall to the bed.
“Yes, ma'am.” His gaze settled on her breasts. “You aren't wearing
your necklace.” The raw edge to his voice and the intermittent,
seemingly involuntary thrust of his hips further bolstered her
courage.

“No,” she said, fumbling with the buttons of
his shirt. “I only wear them at night.”

His throat bobbed with a hard swallow. “Why
haven’t you pierced your nipples?”

She drew in on herself and shuddered. “Just
the thought of it makes me light-headed. I'm a huge wimp. No way
could I handle that.”

“You have a tattoo,” he said, glancing at her
wrist.

“There’s a big difference between a tattoo
and piercing. Especially a nipple piercing.” She bit her lip and
grinned. “Plus, I had a tattoo artist friend who overlooked the
competent and coherent thing. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have had the
guts for the tattoo either.” She stopped struggling with the
buttons with a huff. “I give up. You need to undo these or I’m
going to get frustrated and rip your shirt off.”

While he undid the buttons, she thought about
her necklaces. He obviously liked them, and she liked the way they
felt. Deciding to put one on while he finished unbuttoning his
shirt, she shifted her weight, preparing to slide off him.

He grabbed her thighs and held her in place.
“Where are you going?”

“To put on a necklace.”

He shook his head and
brushed a wild tendril of hair from her face. “Later. I don’t want
you going anywhere right now.” He crooked his finger, and as strong
and independent as she was, it never occurred to her to refuse the
command. He wrapped his large hand around the back of her head and
pulled her mouth to his. It took a matter of seconds for her to
learn that being on top didn’t give her
all
the power. Gavin still
controlled the kisses.

When she’d been reduced to a quivering pile
of mush, he slipped his hands under the hem of her shirt and pushed
it up to her neck. Clips flew out of her hair, and a tangled mass
of curls fell around her face and over her shoulders as he pulled
the shirt off and tossed it to the side. As he rubbed the ends of
her hair between his fingers, his face held such a soft, tender
expression it knocked the breath from her lungs and made her heart
cramp.

Warning buzzers rang in her
brain. Anytime the heart felt something, things got complicated and
dangerous. That would be especially true in this case, because she
didn’t
really
know if Gavin was friend or foe.

But she didn’t want to
think about that now. She didn’t want to think about anything; she
only wanted to feel. “Will you
please
get rid of your shirt? I need
to feel your skin against mine.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She cocked her head to the side and eyed him
suspiciously. “What’s up with all the ma’aming?”

“You seem to enjoy being in charge, so we’re
doing this your way.” He winked and the corner of his mouth lifted.
“This time.”

Sunny had only been on top once, and the
whole experience had lasted two minutes, maybe less. Her high
school boyfriend hadn’t been the King of Stamina, or originality.
Since him… more of the same, but with different names.

Being a professional dominatrix would never
be in her future, but controlling Gavin turned her on in a major
way. The wicked thought was followed by the urge to hide her face
so he couldn’t read her mind. Even though the inclination to look
away was strong, she forced herself to meet his gaze and in a stern
voice commanded, “Take that shirt off. Now.”

His eyes fired and his nostrils flared.
“Can’t wait for my turn to be in charge…”

A thousand butterflies took flight in her
stomach, and a tremble wracked her body. Keeping herself in the
present moment, she scooted further down on his legs and began
loosening his belt buckle.

Her efforts were derailed
when he slowly and deliberately slipped his shirt buttons free,
then sat up just enough to slide the shirt off his
shoulders.
Damn.
His incredible abs and the sprinkling of dark hair covering
his chest snagged her attention, and she quickly abandoned the belt
in favor of a new toy.

Fascinated by the texture of his skin and the
hard muscle beneath, she smoothed her palms over the ridges of his
stomach, then moved on to the soft and gently curling chest
hair.

He lay back to unfasten his pants, but when
she tweaked his nipple, he hissed and his fingers froze on the
button of his slacks. He flipped his gaze to hers and said, “You
get rid of your shorts, I’ll get rid of my pants, and we’ll get
where we want to go a whole hell of a lot faster.”

Ten seconds later, he was in boxer briefs,
lying on the bed with his arms by his sides, patiently awaiting her
next command. If not for the rapid pounding of his heart and the
harsh rise and fall of his chest, she would have taken his
stillness for disinterest. But he wasn’t unaffected, and she
realized he was actually expending a lot of energy to remain still
and impassive.

She’d taken her panties off with her shorts
and wondered why he hadn’t removed his underwear with his slacks.
But as she sat next to him, completely naked, she appreciated the
building anticipation and tension. With trembling fingers, she
slowly pulled the waistband down.

His cock sprang free and a single drop of
moisture glistened at the tip, beckoning her to lick it away. Her
mouth watered, and she slicked her tongue over her lower lip.

As she lowered her head, his eyes turned to
midnight, and he gave a short, hard shake of his head. “No. You put
your mouth on me, I'll shoot off in less than thirty seconds. I'm
too far gone.”

Staying in dominatrix mode, she worked up a
stern face and said, “I thought I was in charge.”

“You are.” He wrapped his hand around her
calf and slowly massaged his way northward. “But if you want to
keep me in the game, you’ll keep your mouth above the waist.” He
grinned. “Above the neck would probably be best.” With a quick,
playful slap on the ass, he added, “For now, anyway.”

She definitely wanted to keep him in the
game. “Okay, we’ll do things your way this time. But later…”

Would they have a later?
And why was she speaking in terms of
later
and
this time
when this was supposed to
be a one-time thing?

Unwilling to spoil the moment, she grabbed
the box of condoms and ripped it open. She took one out, looked at
it, then handed it to him. “I want to watch you put this on.”

She never would have believed watching a man
touch himself would be such a turn-on. But by the time he’d lost
the boxer briefs and finished rolling the condom into place, she
was nearly frantic. Hovering over him, she slowly lowered herself
until the tip of him met her soaking wet sex. The plan had been to
taunt and tease and prolong the anticipation until he reached a
fever pitch that matched hers. But her control disintegrated, and
she couldn't wait another second.

She cried out from an overload of sensations
as she dropped onto him in one fluid motion. He was larger—and she
was tighter—than she'd anticipated. She froze, allowing her body to
adjust to his size and giving her neurons a chance to catch up with
the feelings attacking her body from the inside out.

“Okay?” His voice was soft, almost a whisper,
as he studied her face.

“Oh, yeah.” She rose until he'd almost
slipped free, then slowly slid down again.

He allowed her to control
the depth and pace, but no longer remained impassive. He massaged
her breasts with large, capable—
Good
God
—talented fingers and hands. As she
increased the pace of her rise and fall, he increased the pressure
on her nipples, first rolling, then pinching them between his
thumbs and fingers. The sensation was similar, only better, to that
of her necklaces, and a firestorm sparked in her belly.

She leaned forward and rested her palms on
his chest. The change in position created a delicious friction
against her clit, and in a matter of seconds, she was spiraling out
of control.

He closed his eyes, ground his teeth
together, and drew in deep, harsh breaths. When he opened his eyes
again, they were the color of summer storm clouds. “This isn’t
going to last much longer. You feel too damned good.”

He dropped a hand to her clit while the other
lavished her breast with attention. Within seconds, the simmering
heat in her abdomen erupted into an inferno, and she screamed as an
explosion of energy blasted through every cell of her body. Right
there with her, he rammed into her one last time, then rode the
waves of his orgasm.

Struggling to breathe in short, jerky gasps,
she collapsed onto his chest as the microbursts continued. Strong,
protective arms wrapped tightly around her, and soft, gentle kisses
fell on her head. It seemed like hours passed before her breathing
and heart rate returned to normal and her bone density
returned.

Nodding to the closed door on the right side
of the room, he asked, “Is that the bathroom?”

“Yeah.” She summoned the strength to roll off
him and landed on the mattress with a thud. “Towels and washcloths
are in the wicker rack on the wall. Help yourself to whatever you
need.”

A moment later, he returned with a washcloth
and towel. “Spread 'em, sweetheart.” His eyes gleamed with humor,
but his tone was kind and his actions gentle.

As he carefully wiped her clean, then patted
her dry, a lump of emotion formed in her chest and rose to her
throat. No one had ever taken care of her after sex. Hell, no one
had ever taken care of her in any situation, and his thoughtfulness
touched her deeply.

She swatted the gushy feelings away like a
pesky mosquito. Dammit, she couldn't make more of this than it was.
It was sex. Plain and simple. Nothing more.

While her head understood the rules of
engagement, her heart didn’t seem to grasp the danger. She and her
heart would need to have a serious talk about this later.

Gavin wrapped the washcloth in the towel and
laid them in the sink before returning to Sunny's bed. Wanting to
extend what he considered a perfect moment for as long as possible,
he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close.