Page 33 of Hard Hitter
“Tell me to stop,” he said between kisses. His hand traveled downward still, lifting her thigh and tucking it against his leg, opening her body to him. That naughty hand slipped under the hem of her dress, the heat of his palm searing her as it traveled across her bottom. “Tell me to stop,” he repeated.
She did not tell him to stop.
Instead, she took a half step back, then hooked two fingers in his belt and towed him toward the bed until the backs of her thighs hit the mattress. She sat down, lifting her eyes to check his expression.
The heat in his gaze as he shrugged off his suit coat could burn the little house right down. “So I’m staying?” he asked, his voice pure gravel.
Instead of answering, she grasped the fabric of her dress and lifted it over her head, leaving only a lacy black bra and the tights she was wearing.
His lustful expression said,challenge accepted.
He tossed his jacket onto a chair without a glance, then leaned over to kiss her, his hand landing on her breast. The rough pad of his thumb stroked the sensitive skin just above her bra.
She wanted more, and she wanted it right away. With hands made shaky by eagerness, she tugged at the knot of his necktie, loosening it. When it went slack, she went to work on the buttons of his shirt.
He broke their kiss to help her. And those icy blue eyes bored into her own as he whipped the tie off, then wrestled the shirt off of giant shoulder muscles.
Wow. Patrick O’Doul removing his suit, ladies and gentlemen. It was not a sight to be missed. She stared at his eight-pack as thick fingers flicked the shirt to her bedroomfloor then moved to his belt buckle. Slowly he unhooked it. His gaze was weighty on hers, asking for her permission. But there was no way in hell she was going to change her mind. She wantedthatbody on top of hers. Right now. And if tomorrow it all seemed like an awful idea, she’d just deal with the consequences then.
The sound of his zipper lowering sent a fresh zing of excitement fizzing through her belly. And when the trousers fell away, all that was left was a pair of black boxer briefs, stretched to their limits by a generous erection straining against the cotton. He reached one weather-beaten hand into his briefs just to adjust himself, straightening the thick column until the tip was visible above the elastic.
It was as good as an invitation. Ari leaned forward, her nose brushing the surprisingly soft skin of his belly. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath of him, filling her senses with the scent of recently showered skin, tinged with the salty tang of desire. Nuzzling in, she brought her lips to his tip and kissed him softly. He tasted as good as he looked.
“Fuck.” The contact made his breath hitch, and one big hand came around to the back of her head, tangling in her hair. She leaned in for another kiss, but two hands scooped her under the arms and tossed her backward on the bed instead. “Lie down,” he ordered, and she rushed to comply, scooting backward on the bed.
Then his body was on hers, his knees forcing hers apart. His eagerness was like gasoline on flames, spiking her arousal again. His mouth covered hers, firm and demanding, and she opened for him right away. It had been so long since she’d felt like this—ready to make an offering of herself, willing to submit to something they both craved.
Their tongues tangled, and she let her hands wander over his muscular back. He yanked her tights down on one side, and cool air met her bottom. There were too many clothes between them still. Her breasts felt full and achy. She reached between their bodies to fiddle with the center clasp on her bra, but couldn’t get to it until Patrick pressed up onhis elbows, nudging her hands out of the way and then nosing along the lace cups. A hungry sound emerging from his throat. He unhooked the bra and then groaned, leaning down to pull her nipple into his mouth.
“Oh,” she gasped, arching her back. She could hear her own ragged breathing, each shaky exhale a mockery of all those times she’d ever counted out a breathing exercise in a yoga studio. But it couldn’t be helped. His mouth on her breast sent a rush of slickness between her legs. He shaped her nipple into a slick point with his lips and then bent over to repeat the torture on the other side.
She closed her eyes and ran her fingers through his thick, short hair, its texture unfamiliar against her palms. It had been eight years since she’d had a first time with anyone. She wished she could slow down time and appreciate each new sensation.
Slowing down wasn’t really an option, though. The scent of need in the room was too strong. And she craved his weight on her body—all his muscular bulk pressing her down into the bed. So she lifted her feet to his waist. Using her toes, she caught the waistband of his briefs and pushed them down his hips.
With a groan, he raised himself above her, then yanked her tights down and off her body. That was it—the last scrap of clothing vanquished. Cool air prickled her heated skin while he just stood there for a moment, looking down at her, his gaze landing everywhere.
“What?” she asked suddenly.
He grinned. “Just enjoying the view. Is that so wrong?” He turned away from her, showing her his magnificent ass, and bent down toward his duffel bag on the floor. She heard a zipper and the crinkle of a wrapper. Then he stalked toward her again, powerful muscles popping as he moved, and it was her turn to stare, especially at the thick erection pointing straight up in front of him. A quiver of nervous excitement ran through her core. Were they really going through with this?
While she watched, wide-eyed, he put a condom in her hand and then positioned himself right in front of her on the bed. Maybe he sensed her split-second of indecision, because he dropped a hand to her chin and tilted her face up to meet his gaze. He didn’t say anything, but his cool eyes asked her which way it was gonna be.
She swallowed roughly, then tore open the packet. He hissed when she curved her hand around his shaft and rolled down the condom. When she was done, he put one of his big knees on the bed and nudged her back. She lay down against the pillows again, and he came down on top of her, his mouth just beside her ear. “You ready? Because you are going to get it so good.”
The moan she let out could probably be heard all over Vinegar Hill.
He began to kiss his way down her neck, and she squirmed under his ministrations. The anticipation was killing her now. He propped his elbows on the bed, kissing his way down her chest, her stomach. As he neared her sex, goosebumps broke out on her chest. And then his mouth was right there, his lips skimming her mound, his big hands wrapped around her thighs. He spread her legs wide and flattened his tongue right where it counted.
Ari couldn’t help it. She let out a happy cry, which was answered by a deep moan from Patrick. And the vibration of his voice against her body only intensified the sensation. “So fucking sweet,” he murmured against her clit. The sight of his strong neck bent in concentration over her body gave her shivers. And then he lifted his eyes to hers while dragging his tongue right down the center of her.
Just like that, he had her hovering on the precipice. She gripped the quilt with two hands as his tongue continued its wicked work. Someone was begging, and she was pretty sure it was her.
For a split second everything paused. Ari sucked in a much needed deep breath. But when she bore down again,seeking release, exquisite resistance was provided by a thick cock filling her in one smooth stroke. His name flew from her lips as his big body came down over hers, his hips pumping in time to her own desperation.
His tongue filled her mouth and his big hands gripped her own and everything was fast and rhythmic and head-spinning. She moved in time to the wicked pace he’d set, while her heart thumped out a mantra:oh yes oh yes oh yes.
Release came like water overflowing a pool—first a shimmer hovering at the edge, and then a flood. She sobbed into his mouth, tightening her legs around his body, tighteningeverything.
