Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
As soon as the cabin door was closed, Nic pressed her up against it.
“I thought dessert and backgammon would never end.”
“I will never play backgammon again,” she replied.
“Deal,” he said as he crushed his lips to hers.
They were both frenzied and wild, as if forcing themselves to behave like normal, polite humans for four hours had unleashed something primitive within them once they were free of their obligations.
“We should go slow. Take our time,” Nic whispered against her neck as his teeth and tongue slid down the tendon.
Imogen clutched at his shoulders and jumped to wrap her legs around his waist. “Why?”
“Because …”
“That’s not a reason.”
“You’re a lady.”
“Who has waited almost nine years.”
That got his attention.
His head jerked back as his hands caught her under her butt. “What?”
“Eight years, ten months. To be exact.”
His hazel gaze searched hers. “How is that even possible? I know you said you never dated but…”
She shrugged. “I guess I was waiting for you.”
His mouth took hers again, and this time, the concept of waiting was thrown out the window.
He spun around, clutching her against him, and carried her to the bed. He lowered her slowly to the bedspread before peeling her legs from around his waist.
“In that case, we’d better make this memorable.
” He winked before dropping to his knees on the floor.
“This fluttery little skirt of yours has been driving me crazy all afternoon. The wind would catch it, and you’d smooth it down.
All I could think about was that if I were your man, we’d have words about you wearing such tiny panties under this dress. ”
Liquid heat hit Imogen’s center. “Oh, really?”
“No free shows, Imogen. Not my girl.”
She bit her lip, loving his possessive expression as he slid the skirt up her legs.
“And here I was, thinking how devastating you’ve been to them.”
“I’m about to be.”
He reached up and caught them by the thin elastic sides and peeled them down her legs. They snapped before they reached her knees.
“Those were the only pair I have.”
“Good thing I brought you some sweats because there’s no way my girl is leaving this room in that dress and no panties.”
Imogen would agree to just about anything if he said my girl like that one more time.
“You did?”
“Of course. T-shirt too. Later. I’m busy now.” His big, tattooed hands wrapped around her inner thighs and spread her legs before he buried his face between them. “Don’t scream,” were the last two words he spoke before waves of pleasure rolled through her like a storm on the Gulf.
The man wasn’t just an artist on canvas … whatever he was doing with his tongue and lips definitely qualified as an art form. Imogen grabbed at the coverlet and yanked a fistful to her mouth to stifle the cries that preceded the most intense orgasm of her life.
With bones like liquid, she wanted to melt into the coverlet, but he wasn’t done. Not by a long shot. She writhed and bucked as he made her come again and again. By the time he slid a thick finger inside her, she was beyond ready for him.
But Nic wasn’t moving on quite so quick. He brought her to the peak again before she collapsed with lungs heaving.
“Oh my God … Nic. Please.”
He lifted his head in the dim light of the cabin and wiped a hand across his slick lips. He rose to his feet and reached for the hem of his T-shirt. As he peeled it off, she wondered briefly if she’d died and gone to heaven. Because surely, that was where men like this came from.
He is art. He was a human sculpture, carved by the hand of God and painted with ink.
Her breath caught as she stared at the majesty before her. His muscular, defined form, covered with ink, was the most devastating and stunning combination she’d ever seen.
I didn’t know they made men like this.
“Whoa.” The sound came from her lips as he reached for the button on his shorts.
Her amazement continued as he unbuttoned them and dropped them to the floor.
“Whoa,” she whispered again.
It was like someone had taken a fantasy and breathed life into it. As he stared down at her like a starving man, Imogen wondered what she’d done in her prior life to deserve this … and she was grateful for whatever it was.
When his hand wrapped around the massive shaft jutting from between his legs, she swallowed.
Thank you, God. Ho-ly. Wow. Really. Really. Grateful.
Imogen had been out of the game for so long that she wasn’t sure if she remembered how to have sex. But now she decided it wouldn’t matter because never in all her years on planet Earth had she seen equipment like that.
God had broken the mold with this man. That was obvious.
“Where did you even come from?” she whispered as he stepped between her legs.
“NOLA, baby.” He let go of his incredibly impressive cock and gripped her waist with both hands and lifted her further up the bed.
She couldn’t stop herself. She had to grab it. God didn’t put that beautiful of a creation in your face for you to just ignore it. Her hands wrapped around him, and he let out a sound of appreciation.
It looked like it had been pierced at one time. She couldn’t hold back the question. “Did you have dick piercings?”
“Had. Once upon a time.” He knelt with one bended knee between her legs.
“What happened?”
“You really want to talk about this now?”
“I mean …”
He smiled with a shake of his head. “Without being indiscreet, given the moment, they were … too much for the ladies to contend with in combination with …” He gestured to his cock.
She started laughing. “Thank God. I wouldn’t even know what to do with all that.”
“Exactly. Maybe with a smaller dude. But who fucking cares about that right now?”
Imogen wet her lips. “Not me,” she whispered, gaze fully locked on the rock-hard shaft her hands were stroking.
“Good. Because I have plenty of other ideas for us right about now.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Like what?”
He glanced down at her hands that hadn’t stopped moving.
“Like taking you back to the edge, where you’ve got me, so fucking easily.”
He covered her hands with his, and she was amazed at how much bigger they were than hers.
He knelt between her legs and lowered his body forward with both their hands guiding him toward her.
She lifted up to rock against him like he was one of the toys she used to satisfy herself since practically becoming a nun.
Apparently, Nic didn’t mind. His groan and rippling abdominal muscles were both equally fascinating to her. And when he rubbed the head of his cock against her clit, she let loose a moan.
Her senses were on overdrive, and when he slicked himself in her moisture, driving her mad with need, before finally nudging himself against her opening, she was ready to lose her mind.
He was levered up between her legs, and her hands skimmed across the granite-hard muscles of his shoulders and chest.
“You good? I know it’s been—”
“I’m good. Please …”
She was ready to beg. She wasn’t too proud.
As he barely pushed inside her, she lost it. The screaming orgasm passed her lips before she could think to hold it back. As she shook with ecstasy, he gently slid in … and in … and in …
She was senseless with pleasure. Imogen didn’t know what to do or how to silence her moans or still her body. And when Nic paused, she went wild—bucking and lifting. Imogen’s body craved more. But Nic held himself still for several long moments, as if letting her adjust to his size.
And then, finally, he began to move. Imogen didn’t know how to process all the sensations swamping her senses. Pleasure detonated at octaves beyond her normal human experience. The entire room seemed to shimmer and convulse as she gave herself over to the mindless rapture of the world’s best sex.
She didn’t care about time. She didn’t care about volume.
She was lost to anything but pleasure. When her senses exploded with another orgasm and his body shuddered, his groan nearly shook the room.
Imogen went limp as he held himself above her.
The only sound in the cabin was the two of them trying to catch their breath.
Until, finally, he said quietly, “Holy fuck. Are you okay?”
“Mmhmm.” Words were beyond her.
The only thoughts bounding through Imogen’s mind were … Why did I wait so long? How did I live with this missing from my life?
He brushed a kiss across her forehead. “Gotta move. You stay. I’ll be right back.”
Imogen didn’t care if she ever moved again. In fact, never leaving this cabin to face the other humans on this boat sounded good too.
Do steel walls hold in sound? Are they soundproof? If God had any mercy at all … but at this point … who cares?
Nic came back, and she felt a warm, wet cloth between her legs.
A gentleman all the way.
He fell back onto the bed beside her. She probably should’ve been horrified that they hadn’t used a condom, but she couldn’t find it in herself to care about that either. Imogen curled against him, laid her head on his chest, and fell asleep.