Chapter 5 #3
Blaine ran his hand up the inside of her leg and pressed his fingers to her heated core, drawing a moan from her. He loved that she was so responsive to his touch. “As far apart as they’ll go.” Patting her bottom, he urged her up and off his lap. “Hurry.”
She grabbed the bag from the shop and sauntered up the stairs, appearing to take her own sweet time.
With desire beating through him and heating his blood, Blaine forced himself out of the chair and crossed the room to the small bar set up in the corner.
He poured a shot of whiskey, downed it in one swallow and felt it burn its way through him.
For the first time in a long time, he found himself thinking of Eden and the nightmare he’d endured at her hands.
He’d discovered far too late that she used people to get what she wanted and then discarded them when she’d sucked them dry in every possible way.
He hadn’t known Tiffany long, but he already knew she was made of much better stuff than that.
She didn’t have a user bone in her body.
He’d discovered that despite the tough outer shell she showed the world, inside she was made of softer, more compassionate stuff, the kind of stuff a man could fall in love with rather easily if he wasn’t careful.
Blaine poured a second shot and took it with him when he returned to the chair.
He consumed this one more slowly, reminding himself all the while that he’d embarked on a sexual affair with an attractive woman.
That didn’t mean he had to solve all her problems or turn into an emotional wreck over her.
This was about one thing and one thing only: sex.
He glanced at the stairs. Knowing she was up there, spread out and ready for him to feast on, made his dick throb painfully.
As he downed the last of his drink and stood up to go to her, he thought of her earlier distress and chose to ignore the equally painful throb in his chest. Nothing good had ever come of that.
Wearing the black sheer bustier that barely covered the tips of her nipples, Tiffany lay on the bed with her legs spread wide.
Her thighs trembled from anticipation and the effect the swirling air from above was having on her exposed flesh.
On the verge of her first-ever ceiling-fan-induced orgasm, Tiffany squirmed against the tug of the thong, trying to exert more pressure where she needed it most without involving her hands.
She wondered how much longer he planned to make her wait.
If his goal was to get her hot and ready for whatever he had in mind, she’d arrived at that destination ten minutes ago.
Hell, who was she kidding? She’d been hot and ready from the second she’d woken up to his kiss.
The apple-scented candles she’d lit flickered, and the light breeze filtering in through the open windows only added to her heightened sense of awareness. Her body hummed with tension and desire as she waited for him.
Jim hadn’t appreciated sexy underwear. “It’s going to end up on the floor anyway,” he would say, “so what’s the point?
” The point, she was finding, as the bustier abraded her aroused nipples, was more about the way it made her feel: sexy, desirable, wanted.
Whatever it did for her partner was secondary.
Blaine appeared at the door and took in the scene before him. At the sight of him in the candlelight, her breath caught in her throat. He was, by far, the sexiest man she’d ever known, and the naked desire on his face, desire for her, nearly took her over the precipice she’d been clinging to.
Unbuttoning his uniform shirt, he crossed the room to her.
The trembling in Tiffany’s legs intensified as he took his gaze on a lazy journey from the straining nipples he could probably see through the sheer fabric to her quivering belly and smoldering center.
He shrugged the shirt from his shoulders, and she licked her lips at the sight of his muscular chest.
“Are you wet?” he asked gruffly.
“Yes.”
“How wet?”
“Very.”
He stood by the side of the bed looking down at her, the huge bulge in his pants the only indication that he was equally aroused. “You’d better check, just to be sure.”
Mortified by the idea of touching herself while he watched, she hesitated.
“Do it.”
Now her hand was trembling, too, as she skimmed her fingertips over her belly and under the waistband of the thong. Her fingers slid through the slippery dampness between her legs.
“Stroke yourself. I want to watch you come.”
One part of her was shocked by his frank talk. The other part was hugely turned on. “I can’t. Not with you watching.”
“Yes, you can.”
Tiffany closed her eyes and tried to forget he was there, watching her. Under the satiny thong, she moved her fingers back and forth over the tight, tingling bud.
“Push your fingers inside,” he said, his breathing sounding choppy.
She bit her lip and did as he requested.
“Farther. Mmm, that’s it. Use your other hand on your breast. Roll the nipple between your fingers.” He paused, waiting for her to follow his instructions. “Now look at me.”
Tiffany did as he directed and imploded, the climax streaking through her like lightning, leaving her quivering with the need for more.