Chapter 21
21
“ G et on the bed for me,” he directed, his hand trembling with need.
Stretching out, head on the pillows, she lay splayed for him, so beautiful in her unabashed nakedness that he stood for long moments gazing down at her. “I’ve never seen a more beautiful woman in my entire life.”
When she laughed softly, as if she didn’t believe him, he trailed his fingers from her throat to her breasts, down her stomach to her sex. “I don’t mean just tonight. I mean never in my life.”
She blushed all over. But she smiled. Then slowly he crawled over her. “First, I’ll kiss you breathless.” A long, sweet melding of mouths and tongues. Then, lips still on hers, he whispered, “After that, I’ll kiss my way down your body, tasting every inch. Your nipples, your belly button. And then the sweet, hot, wet center of you.”
She was already gasping, just the way he wanted her to. He took her mouth again, resting his body against hers, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, as she curled her legs around his hips, pulling him hard against her sex.
He kissed her until his mind was filled with nothing but her scent and her taste, until her nipples pebbled against his chest, until her body moistened against his erection.
Only then did he pull away. “And now I’ll work my way down.”
He breathed warm air against her ear, licked her, relished the shiver that ran through her. Kissing his way down her body, he tasted all of her, her shoulder, along her collarbone to her throat, the creamy swell of her breast. He drew her nipple into his mouth, licked, sucked, nipped until she gasped. As he crawled down her, every rib took his entire focus, then her stomach, her belly button, the sweet skin just above the mound of her sex. And finally, lifting her slightly to cup her bottom, he sipped the ambrosia between her thighs, sucking on her hot, sweet, tight little pearl until she moaned. He wanted to make her moan just like that forever.
“You taste so good,” he whispered. “You feel so good.”
Then he took her with his fingers, his mouth, his tongue, his whole being. Her legs around his shoulders, she pummeled him with her heels, head thrashing on the pillow, hands fisting in the comforter. She was no longer with him; she was inside the bliss, oblivion, sensual heaven. He couldn’t be sure which came first, the clamp of her body around his fingers or the cry from her lips. But he felt her climax roll through her, her legs quivering, her arms shaking, his fingers caught in her body’s tight grip, her moans rising to cries, to screams, to wails of pure, perfect pleasure.
He didn’t want her to come down, wanted to fill her just like this, when she was still in the throes of orgasm. And he pushed himself up to slide deep inside her, thanking God there wasn’t a thing between them. She was hot and wet and so damn perfect.
Her body spasmed around him yet again, and he held still one moment, dying in the sweet agony of being inside her at last. But he couldn’t let her come down. After a deep thrust that drew a groan from him, he backed all the way out again, riding her G-spot over and over, keeping her right up there on the precipice. Then he plunged, in, out, hard, fast. Her nails broke skin on his back, and he didn’t care. He loved it. This was like nothing ever before. This was out of this world. This was…
Then he couldn’t think anymore. There was just him, her, their bodies, their flesh. One.
Blinding rapture ripped her apart. And someone was screaming in her ears.
Dimly, Greer was aware it was her, but the sounds seemed so far off. Right now, there was only the searing agony of ecstasy. She clamped her legs hard around him, wrapped her arms tight, and with her feet on his backside, she helped him thrust harder and deeper just the way she needed. The way she hadn’t known in years, maybe never.
When he throbbed deep inside her, when he released in a long low growl, she went over again, fell with him, arms, legs, her whole body tight around him. The wild sensations crashed through her. She wasn’t sure she was even in her body anymore.
Then he slammed hard one more time, arched high above her, his arms quaking, his throat stretched. And she wanted to latch on, bite him, claim him. He pulsed inside her for long moments before he pulled out, flopped back down, not quite landing on her, but rolling with her until he clutched her to his side, her hand on his pounding heart.
And he laughed, a low sound that was primal and delicious.
“Holy hell.” Running a hand over his face, he wiped away the perspiration they’d created. Their melded skin felt so good, a testament to hot, sweaty, blissful sex.
“Thank you,” he whispered.
She stroked one finger straight down the line of hair from his chest to his groin. “No, thank you.” He was still semihard, and she loved the warmth of his seed inside her.
“I haven’t felt this good—” He stopped, let out a long breath. “In something like forever. Maybe never.”
She tipped her head back to look at him. His eyes were closed, his face relaxed, one arm stretched out, his hand fisted. Then he rolled his head on the pillow and gazed at her. “That’s what I’m thanking you for.” A tender smile flitted across his lips.
“You’re the best.” She meant every word. “It’s not flattery. I’ve just never felt like that. At least I don’t think I have.” She shrugged. “But really, I would have remembered something that good.”
She would never forget how he’d made her feel. It was more than sensation, more than a good orgasm. It was emotional.
She played with her hair, ran her fingers through the locks, not caring that she was a mess. She loved it. Just-had-sex hair. Sliding her hand down to his erection, she stroked playfully, then reached farther still to cup him, squeezing slightly. “You felt so perfect inside me. Just the way I needed it. Slow at first, then hard and deep and fast. Slamming into me.”
He grinned down at her. “I love the way you talk dirty to me.”
Tipping her head back, she smiled. “Is that dirty talk? I didn’t use any bad words.”
He chuckled, the vibration of it delicious against her sensitized nipples. “Maybe it’s just sexy talk. Tell me what you liked. Then I know what to do next time.”
Next time. She liked that, and she told him more. “I like your mouth on me. The way you use your tongue and your fingers at the same time.”
“I like the way you took me in your mouth and slid all the way down, all the way back up, and then you sucked on the very tip. I thought I’d die before I ever got inside you.”
Stroking him, she felt him grow. “I can feel that you liked it.”
He reached down to wrap his fingers around hers, helped her play with him. “I’m fifty-eight years old, and yet with you, I could do it all again. Right now.”
She smiled, a challenge on her lips. “I seem to remember you promising to make me come over and over.”
“And I’ll give you exactly what you want, you beautiful, amazing woman.”
Rolling with her until she was on her back, he started all over again, slower this time. He kissed her long and sweet and deep, and she tasted her essence on his tongue. Different. Crazy. And it was good. She’d never been this erotic, this abandoned, their tongues swirling together. Trailing kisses to her ear, he licked her, blew a warm breath that made her absolutely insane. She quaked in a sexy mini-orgasm.
He tugged on her lobe with his teeth, planted love bites on her neck that made her quiver. He licked along her collarbone, his fingers finding her nipple, tweaking it, twisting with just enough pressure to make pleasure and pain become deliciously one. Then his mouth was on her, his tongue swirling around her nipple, and she writhed beneath him.
After long moments of concentration on her breasts that pushed her close to the edge, he worked his way down, tasting, teasing, and finally delving deep between her legs.
Never like this. Oh God. She was certain it had never been like this. She was a mindless sexual being, with no other thoughts but how this man made her feel. Her work diary didn’t flit through her mind, no tasks demanded her attention. There was just him. His fingers. His lips. His tongue. His taste still in her mouth.
He cupped her bottom in his big hands, lifting her, spreading her, and taking her with a long swipe that made her cry out.
Then he seemed to be everywhere. A hand holding her open for his mouth, his fingers inside her on just the right spot, his mouth eliciting so much pleasure she thought she’d lost her mind. He pushed her higher, higher still, until she tumbled over the edge. Then he did it again. And again. Until, without her even knowing how he did it, he was on his haunches between her legs, her thighs draped over his, and he was buried deep inside her. Thrusting slowly, he rode that sensitized spot just inside until she exploded yet again.
She was chanting. It could have been his name. It could have been calling to God. Clamping her hands on his backside, she forced him to do exactly what she wanted, to take her hard, to take her fast, to take her deep, grinding against her, the sensations going on and on.
Until she felt the hot throb of him inside her, and he chanted that perfect, filthy word, showing her how far over the edge she’d sent him, how crazy she made him.
And they fell into oblivion together. Into another world where only they existed.
“That was amazing.” She stretched like a luxurious cat, then propped herself on her elbow to look at him. “Thank you.”
“It was incredible,” Dean agreed. “But you don’t need to thank me again. It was my pleasure.”
In the lamp’s light, he thought she blushed. “I hope we can do it again.”
Turning to put his hand across the back of her neck, he pulled her in for a sweet, lingering kiss, just off the edge of passionate. And so right for the moment. “Oh yeah, we can do it again. As often as you want.” He lifted his wrist to look at his watch. “Maybe we should get some sleep before the sun actually rises.”
She rolled away from him, climbing off the bed to search for her clothing. With her back to him, she stepped into her panties and said over her shoulder, “I should get back to my room.”
Because she was afraid her boyfriend would check up on her? He didn’t like the thought, as if she’d done something wrong. After all, the guy had walked out on her right before their big vacation. He’d run to his mother, for God’s sake.
“I’d like it if you stayed,” he coaxed her. He wanted to wake with her in his arms, to make love to her again, to make it even better than before.
But she was already pulling her dress over her head. “No, really, I should get back.”
He felt a sinking in his stomach. But there would be another time. As many as he could make in their last few days together.
She slipped into her sandals, but when he made a move to get out of bed, she pushed him back down. “There’s no need to walk me to the door.” Leaning over, she gave him another delicious kiss. He wondered if he could pull her down again, get her to stay, but she’d already said twice that she needed to go. He wouldn’t get pushy. Women didn’t like pushy men. Her ass of a boyfriend was pushy.
As she strode to the door, her backside swayed in a sexy taunt, begging him to grab her up and take her against the door.
Did women actually like it up against the door? Or was that just a movie thing? He found the idea highly sexy. There was something about the angle, allowing him to slide in right where she needed to be touched. But he stayed where he was, watching her go.
At the door, she fluttered her fingers at him before she disappeared, the door snicking closed behind her. He lay there a long time, remembering every touch, every kiss, every taste, every cry from her lips.
Oh yeah. There would be more. A lot more.
And a voice deep inside asked if he’d ever get his fill of her.
It felt like that girls’ night out at home, when she’d walked in the door, trying to be quiet, only to find Conrad waiting for her. But she wasn’t ashamed of what she’d done with Dean. Just as she wasn’t ashamed that night because she’d done nothing wrong. Conrad had been the unreasonable one, the one to walk out.
But back in her room after those glorious hours in Dean’s bed, she dumped her evening bag on the bed only to have her phone fall out, lighting up with six missed calls from Conrad. And just as many texts. She’d had it on silent all night.
He hadn’t left a voicemail, but the texts all said basically the same thing. Where are you? I’m trying to get hold of you! Call me back!
She noticed the blinking light on the hotel phone. Picking up the receiver, she pressed the message button. Of course it was Conrad. She held the phone away from her ear as he spoke loudly, as if he thought the distance between them required shouting.
“I’ve been calling your cell phone, but you don’t answer. I thought maybe you’d accidentally left your phone behind. That’s why I tried calling the room. But you don’t answer here either. Where are you? I need to talk to you. Call me back when you get this message. I don’t care how late it is.”
The bedside clock glowed the time, three o’clock. No way was she calling him back now. She was not giving him any ammunition. She’d never hear the end of it. After erasing his message, she slammed the phone down.
She’d felt so amazing. Like she was walking on clouds.
Conrad’s voice ruined it all.
The man had a nerve. He’d walked out on her, canceled their vacation, and flown off to see his parents. Yet now he wouldn’t leave her alone. It was ridiculous. She would not feel guilty. Absolutely not.
Flopping on the bed, she struggled to get back to that glorious headspace she’d been in with Dean. She wished now that she’d stayed. That she’d never come back or looked at her cell phone or listened to that voicemail.
She’d call Conrad in the morning. Or not.
But that perfect headspace eluded her.
In the bathroom, she took off her makeup. Her reflection in the mirror impressed her. Yes, there was mascara under her eyes, but her hair had that just-made-love mess of long hours in a man’s arms. And she loved the look.
She wanted it with Dean again. Until the very last moment they had.