Where Their Hearts Collide: Wardham Book #2 (15 page)

Hell, he might get off like this.

When was the last time he came in his pants like a fifteen year old?
Probably when he was fifteen. Jesus.

With a pop, he switched sides,
matching the strokes of his tongue and the roll of her now puffy and pliable nipple with the increasing rhythm of their hips. The table jerked hard against the wall as she ground tight circles against his jeans, and he rocked faster against her, wanting her to get there before he was past the point of no return.

She wrenched on
e of her hands off the table and wrapped it around his head, holding him to her breast as she arched one final time and seized against his body, holding still for a moment before tremors took over. He eased both arms around her back and trailed his mouth back to hers, pressing sweet, wet kisses to her pulse points on the way.

Her hair was wild and damp, her eyes bright and dark at the same time, and she looked magnificent. He told her as much, over and over again, as he swept her into his arms, ignoring her protests. She wasn’t light, but he could carry her easily. Hell, he’d carry her if it wasn’t easy. He’d walk over burning coals to make sure that she was worshiped appropriately. She was a goddess, and his adoration was just beginning.

At the top of the stairs, Paul strode into the first bedroom and placed her on a large, elevated bed. Dimly lit, with just the hall light spilling in, shadows filled most of the room, which she was fine with—now that she was coming down from her orgasm, she was a bit embarrassed about what just happened in his kitchen. His bright, for-eating in, kitchen.
Oh god
. She covered her face with her hands and groaned.

“Oh, no.
No, no, no, no, no.” She peeked through her fingers. Paul had paused mid-strip to mock-glower at her. “Bring back the brazen hussy who propositioned me outside. I’m not done with her yet.”

“I have no idea who that woman is,” she whispered.
But I think I like her
.

He stalked toward the bed, still in his briefs.
He was wiry and tight, everywhere, and the light from the hall bounced off the sharp angles of his body, exaggerating the shadowy ridge running down the center of his six-pack. Her hands fell away from her face and she shrugged off the nerves. The jut of his erection promised she didn’t have to waste second thoughts on anything they’d done, or would do.

“Aren’t you going to,
uhm, take those off?” She ached to see all of him, need burning in every cell of her body. And, despite her post-orgasmic nervous reaction, she wanted to be naked too, and finally have nothing between them.

“Soon.”
He climbed onto the bed and covered her body with his, holding himself up on his forearms. “That was really awesome, downstairs.” He bent his head and pressed his mouth close to her ear. “I almost came in my pants.”

She felt his grin against her cheek before he pulled back and she saw it, his teeth bright in his face as he shook with laughter. And she couldn’t do anything but join him, because that was pretty funny.
“Seriously?”

He nodded. “
You felt unreal, grinding against me like that. I probably should have done math or something.”

“You didn’t?”

“Couldn’t. There was no room in my head for thought, let alone complex equations.”

A hot flush tingled through her as s
he beamed. So this was what it felt like to be a vixen. Awesome. “Wow. I had no idea.”

He wove his fingers through hers and stretched their arms high and wide, sinking the weight of his upper body carefully onto her as he pressed his open mouth to her neck.

“Paul.” She moaned his name more than once, repeating it again and again as he stoked her desire, building the heat in her core from the coals of his last efforts. She twisted and arched her body against his, presenting new patches of skin for him to nip and lick and lave, until his mouth met hers and they lost themselves in a desperate, all-consuming kiss to end all kisses.

He released her hands
and shifted his legs, moving enough to divest them both of their clothes, and she stroked his jaw, then the cords in his neck, and his tight, round shoulders, the muscles bunching and shifting under her hands as he jerked her skirt down her hips, his mouth still feverishly consuming her lips. Her tongue. Her breath.

His knees pressed her thighs apart, and this time she didn’t hesitate to open as wide as possible for him.

When his fingers found her wet core, she groaned and lifted her hips, begging for any part of him to be inside her. He obliged, slicking first one, then two digits into her pussy, then up and through her folds to her clit before dipping in again. He stroked, deep and smooth, turning his fingers a bit each time, pressing inside her in the most delicious ways.

His cock bobbed against her thigh, as if asking for attention, and she reached through the tangle of their pressed together bodies, wanting to touch it. She wanted more than that—she wanted to see it, lick it, consume it…worship it. As her left hand found him, rock hard and silky smooth, ridged in all the right places, she shivered, and Paul paused, his fingers just grazing her sex.

“What is it?”

She shook her head. “Don’t stop.”

He
lifted his hips, giving them both more room to move their hands and fingers as they resumed pleasuring each other. The combination of his finding all of her secret buttons, and the hard, hot length of him in her hand, finally, was too much, in the very best way possible. She slammed her thighs shut, pinning his hand in place as she rocked over the cliff of another orgasm, unexpectedly finding herself in free fall.

Paul slid to his side, best as he could with his hand caught between her legs, and she rolled toward him, like a blind kitten seeking the warmth of its mother. She jerked as he slid his hand free, whimpering slightly as he accidentally touched her engorged clit. “Sorry,
darlin’,” he whispered, stroking her hip. “That was beautiful, too. I could…”

There was no need for him to finish the sentence. However much they might both want to do that again and again, they only had tonight. Any other time, with any other person, Karen would have thought two orgasms were plenty, and be kind of meh on the idea of doing anything else. She was verging on sore, already, but they were going to make this one night count. The memory of it was going to need to last a long time.
Forever
. She swallowed that thought, pushing it out of her mind. All that mattered was the here and now. And Paul still hadn’t come.

“Can I ask you a delicate question?” She shifted onto one arm, deliberately letting her nipples trail against his torso.
Vixen-esque. She giggled, and he raised an eyebrow. “No, ignore that. Post-orgasm laugh, nothing to do with the question.” She cleared her throat and drifted the palm of her hand down the trail of fuzz running south from his navel. “How many times…”

The question died in her throat as her hand connected with his cock. The feel of him against her palm actually made her a little dizzy. She stroked him a few times, enjoying the grunts and groans he made as he pressed his head back against the pillow, and pouted when his hand came around hers and stilled her action.

“Finish your question,” he growled, and she blushed. “I think I know what you’re asking, but I want to hear the words come out of your pretty mouth.”

“How many times can you come?”

He growled again, and encouraged her to resume the handjob. “Why?”

“Because…” She trailed off again, but given the way he was jerking his hips and moaning, there was no reason to be embarrassed about a few words.
Or probably anything. “I’d really like for you to come in my mouth.”

Paul pushed himself up and shifted faster than Karen would have thought humanly possible, bringing his cock closer to her face. She leaned forward and pressed a delicate kiss to the velvety soft head. This angle wasn’t going to
work, although the thought of lying back and letting Paul fuck her face gave her an intense and unexpected thrill. Right now, though, she wanted to give as much as she had received. She swiped a bead of pre-come with her tongue, and giggled as he groaned. She could feel his hands waving in the air on either side of her head, and that idea pleased her too.
Yes, grab my hair. Push your cock into my mouth
. How could one night be enough when there were literally dozens of ways she wanted to give him a blowjob?

She crawled onto her hands and knees
, settling in front of Paul. He reached out and squeezed her shoulders, then softened his hands, leaving them on her skin. In the dim light and quiet of his bedroom, she was struck by the special intimacy of this act. She opened her mouth and felt the heavy tip of him rest on her tongue. She could smell soap on the rest of his body, but his cock just tasted manly—clean, with a hint of salty musk. Enough to cloud her senses and trigger a base hunger for more.

His hips swayed, not pressing
exactly, but enough to remind her that he hadn’t come yet. She relaxed her throat and rocked forward, enjoying the slide of his shaft into her mouth, then out again. She savoured the noises he made as she swirled her tongue around and underneath the velvet head. As she pressed firmly around his girth with her lips and hummed.

Carefully balancing on one hand, she brought the other up between his legs, loving the coarse rub of the hair on his thighs,
and then his sharp moan as her fingers circled his scrotum before joining her mouth, adding an opposite stroke to her swirling tongue. Again and again, her fist and her mouth moved together and apart, twisting delicately to meet in the middle of his cock. His hips started to jerk as well, and his vocalizations promised she was doing something right, so she kept it up as he swelled harder still, then exploded, spilling himself on her tongue.

He continued to rock into her mouth gently as she swallowed, even as his legs shook and
his torso curved over her head, his arms alternately stroking and tapping helplessly against her back. When his cock stopped twitching, he eased back and slumped against the headboard, pulling her into his side.

“I think I blacked out there for a minute.” His voice was hoarse, and she
smiled.

“I’m going to take that as a compliment.
” She licked her lips. She could still taste him. She should probably—

“What’s going on in your head?” His eyes were still closed, but his arm had turned into a band of steel, holding her firm against him.

“I was just thinking I’d go and rinse my mouth out.”

“For
you, or for me?” He blinked one eye open and gave her a big, lazy grin. “Because if it’s for me, I’d rather keep your naked body pressed up against mine. After a blowjob like that, I don’t care what your mouth tastes like.”

“
Uhm…” Okay, then. It certainly wasn’t for her. She liked the smell of his sweat. She was cool with the taste of his come.

“Come here.” He dragged her onto his chest. They were almost the same height, and he wasn’t huge. How did he move her around so effortlessly? He pressed his lips to hers,
then traced the seam of her lips with his tongue. She opened for him with a sigh, and he proved that it really wasn’t an issue. “Are you sleepy?”

“No.” She really wasn’t. She’d spent the night before in the city, so she’d actually slept in a little. Her stomach growled, loud in the silence. “I might be hungry, though.”

He kissed her again before rolling her onto her back. “You definitely deserve a sandwich, come with me.”

She looked at her crumbled skirt and blouse, and laughed in relief when he tossed her his t-shirt instead. She pulled it on
, secretly pleased that it fit, hitting the top of her thighs in what she hoped was a sexy way. He copped a feel of her ass as he padded past her to grab his jeans, so she was guessing it was good enough for him. And his wardrobe choice most definitely worked for her—his jeans left unbuttoned, chest bare, he was effortlessly sexy, and if her stomach hadn’t taken that moment to growl, she’d have pulled him back to bed.

H
e jogged down the stairs, giving her good hope for his recovery in other ways, and by the time she found him in the kitchen he’d pulled out whole grain sandwich loaf, tomatoes, lettuce, mayonnaise and a block of cheese.

“Anything you don’t like?” He tossed the question at her over his shoulder as he efficiently sliced and spread. She answer
ed in the negative, and looked around for something to do. She didn’t even know where to look for glasses, but he probably had beer in the fridge.

She was right. “Want one?”

He nodded, and she popped the caps off two bottles, bringing them to the table as he plated up their sandwiches. Her cheeks pinked at their recent activity in this very spot—two of the three chairs still shoved out of the way.

Paul bumped her hip with his as he set their plates on the table, then turned and pulled her into his arms. “I didn’t think this was ever going to happen,” he said, his voice low and intense. “I know we’re at different places in our lives
, but I want you to know that this is special for me.”

She didn’t know how to respond to that. She understood what he was—and wasn’t—saying. And it was fine. Of course she’d want more than him. He’d already done the marriage and
kids thing, and come out the other side with a cynicism she’d never understand. But he’d wanted more than a single night. On that front, they were at the same bittersweet place. And it was there that she found the right words to keep them on track.