16
Rock 'n roll is art, but it also means sex, so it's just the perfect combination.—Pamela Des Barres
How they got from the dance floor to Rhys's condo was pretty much a great big blur in Rhett's mind.
Worry about how she would face her daughter after having what could only be described as sex standing up became a moot point, thanks to Rhys.
He swept past the table, grabbed Rhett's purse, and distributed quick good nights to all present.
She didn't have time to utter a word before he was ushering her out the door and into his car.
The ride home seemed to last minutes, and at the same time Rhett thought they must have been in that car for days.
Conversation was impossible because the desire raging through her body wiped out any coherent thought in her mind.
If she had spoken, all she would have been able to say was, "Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!
" Never in her life had she even considered saying those words to anyone, but with the echo of Rhys's voice singing those song lyrics still tingling in her ear, it was all she could think about.
They must have parked in the garage, and there must have been an elevator ride up to the twenty-third floor, because that was the only way they could have ended up standing beside the king-size bed in Rhys's bedroom.
The sight of it brought Rhett back to the present with a jolt of anticipation so strong it shook her entire body.
She buried her hands in his glorious hair and pulled his mouth to hers.
At the first touch of his lips, the embers that smoldered deep within her from the day he left for Vancouver ignited.
A groan she didn't know she was capable of making rose from her throat as she pressed tight against him and opened her mouth to his blistering kisses and his probing tongue.
The feel of his hands on her bare back stoked the flames higher.
Mad to feel his skin against hers, Rhett let go of his hair and shoved his jacket off his shoulders.
Rhys released her long enough to shake it loose from his arms, and to yank his long-sleeved pullover off over his head.
The minute it was gone, Rhett ran her hands up his chest, then lightly drew her nails back down.
"Mother of..." Rhys didn't even bother to finish his sentence but took her mouth with his again. His hands fumbled at the back of her neck where the halter top was fastened, but after a minute he broke the kiss and looked at her with extreme frustration. "Fuck it, I can't get it open. Turn round."
Though she was reluctant to take her hands from the warm skin of his chest, Rhett turned her back to him and swept her hair aside to give him better access.
The sooner the dress was gone, the sooner their bodies would be touching.
This time they were both going to be naked, and she trembled with eagerness.
Now that he could see what he was doing, it didn't take Rhys long to unfasten the three tiny hooks at her neck. As the top of the dress slithered down her body, Rhett felt his hands at the small of her back pulling at her waistband.
"Jesus Christ, Rhett," he growled. "What kind of fucking medieval torture device are you wearing, anyway? Where's the zip?"
"The...? Oh! Left side."
Thus directed, Rhys made short work of the zipper. Her new birthday dress swished in a puddle at her feet, leaving her clad only in a pink lace thong and Mel's silver high heeled sandals.
"Oh, God," Rhys groaned as he ran his hands up the backs of her thighs to cup her ass. "Baby, you have the most beautiful bum."
A shaky breath passed between Rhett's lips.
The combination of his voice and his touch had her more turned on than she'd ever been in her life, even more than she was in the back seat of his car.
When his fingers slid under the thong's straps over her hips, she squeezed her eyes shut, breath coming short in anticipation.
Then his lips were at her ear, his voice low and taut with tension. "Don't move."
The sound of another zipper being lowered was followed by the heavy rustle of denim as Rhys removed his jeans.
They hit the floor beside her, and she heard the short, sharp snap of elastic along with a muffled "Ow.
" A pair of gray and black boxer briefs landed on top of the jeans, and Rhett's head whirled at the realization that Rhys was now naked behind her.
Before she could obey the inner voice that insisted she turn around and look at him, his hands returned to the straps of her thong.
This time he lowered the miniscule garment to her ankles.
She stepped out of it, and his hands were there to ease the sandals from her feet.
When she was completely undressed, Rhys ran his hands up her legs again.
He paused at her ass with an appreciative hum, then continued up her ribcage and down her arms. Grasping her wrists in both hands, he pulled them behind his neck and used his fingers to thread hers together.
By this time Rhett was almost thrumming with need. She arched her back in silent demand, and he responded. He cupped her breasts in his hands and pressed his lips to her temple.
"Absolutely bleedin' perfect," he breathed against her skin.
When his fingers moved to her nipples, Rhett sucked in a surprised breath as shutter-quick flashes of bliss sparked through her.
Her breathy moans became eager whimpers as Rhys slid one warm hand down her abdomen to the juncture of her thighs.
Expecting his touch between her legs, she was more than a little disappointed when all he did was pull her against the full length of his body.
Maybe he hadn't touched her yet, but the heat that pressed against her lower back came damn close to making up for it.
Instinct as old as time moved her hips, stroking that magnificent hardness trapped between their bodies.
Rhys's deep, uneven breaths were hot against her neck, but still he didn't touch her.
Rhett unlaced her fingers and gave his hair a gentle tug. "Rhys, if you don't touch me, I'm going to lose my mind."
"The thing is, baby, if I do touch you I'll lose mine. And a whole lot more than that."
"Do we have to take it slow this time? Can't it just be fast and dirty, and hot and hard? I promise you can take your time later, but I want you now."
"Oh, fuck, yes," Rhys growled, and slipped two fingers between her quivering thighs.
The quick flashes that had come from his hands on her breasts burned into one long lick of flame inside her at his touch. Once again, instinct took over, and her hips moved in rhythm with his fingers, thrusting her against the length of him every time she rocked back.
Then his fingers were gone, and he was turning her around, pushing her down on the bed. Before she could reach for him, he was between her open thighs. His almond-shaped dark blue eyes stared down at her as he swallowed heavily.
"This is what you want?"
"This is what I want."
With one long, powerful thrust he was inside her. Rhett drew in a sharp, quick breath through her nose, and let it out in a wavering ah of pleasure.
Rhys propped his upper body on his elbows and held her face between his hands as he drove into her. "Put your legs down."
When she did as he instructed, her eyes opened wide at the new sensations that rocked her body. Within seconds she felt her orgasm building, and she clutched at his back. She just thought she'd come before, but that was nothing but flutters of enjoyment compared to what was coming.
"Rhys..."
"Yeah, come on." He smiled down at her. "Let it go."
Rhett closed her eyes and rolled her head to the side, but his hands urged her back.
"No, no," he murmured. "Look at me."
She opened her eyes, looked deep into his, and her orgasm roared through her like a freight train, wave after wave of pleasure so intense she thought she would splinter apart from the intensity.
Adding to it was the feeling she got staring into his eyes while she shattered apart around him.
It was the most sensual, erotic, intimate thing that ever happened to her.
Thirty seconds later, Rhys cried out as his own orgasm overtook him. He thrust into her hard, then stayed buried deep inside for a long moment before collapsing on top of her, his face buried in the curve of her shoulder.
Still panting in the aftermath, Rhett ran her hands down his sweat-slick back.
She had dreamed of this man since she was old enough to know what sex was.
And he had been worth the wait. She breathed in the mingled scents of their sated desire and the sweet, almost sharp chocolate and rum scent from his skin, and she smiled.
Because the reality of Rhys James Collinsworth was better than any fantasy had ever been.
“How long are you staying?" Under Rhett's cheek, Rhys's chest rose and fell with his even breathing, and the rhythmic beat of his heart was like a lullaby in her ear. She filled her lungs with his intoxicating scent, overlaid by the tang of the soap from their earlier shower.
"I have to go back tomorrow." His lips brushed through her hair. "This is stolen time, Beautiful."
Rhett's eyes closed briefly as she swallowed down her disappointment. Rhys was right. It was unexpected and sudden, and she should be grateful they had it at all. She made herself smile and looked up at him.
"Well, then. I guess you'll just have to sleep on your flight back, because I intend to make each moment of this stolen time count."
"That sounds very, very good." He laughed under his breath. "Did I ever tell you happy birthday?"
Rhett pressed her lips to the pulse that beat in his neck. "Didn't have to tell me," she whispered against his skin. "You showed me."
"I'm going to show you again, and this time I'll do it my way. Twice now you've had me banging you like a sex-crazed teenager."
"Do you hear me complaining?" She raised her head and grinned at him.