Page 17 of Up in Smoke
“Dinner in twenty minutes.” Her voice sounded throaty. Uneven. “If you’re hungry.”
Dammit, why hadn’t he tugged one out in the shower? He knew why. He’d rushed, worried the entire time that she’d slip out a window and show up again when she felt like it. “Okay. I’ll be out soon.”
“Did you mean what you said…about going slow?”
Jesus.“Hell yes, I meant it. I don’t say things I don’t mean.”
A beat passed. “Can we go slow right now?”
Did he have enough willpower in place at the moment? No. Then again, he never did when it came to her. So what difference did it make? All hope of resistance flew out of his head when he felt her breath at the center of his bare back. It reminded him of their height difference. Made him picture how they’d look in bed, her petite body aligned with his bulk. Taking each thrust of his cock with a pleased cry. The kind of cry a woman gave when a man conquered her and she realized she loved it. Erin’s cry would drown out all of them. Someday. Not now. He braced his hands on the door and tried to remain still, swallowing a groan when fingers traced up his left side.
“You smell so good.” She laid a wet kiss on his back. “Your skin is so hot. I want to rub myself all over you. Can I do that?”
His head dropped forward with a moan. “That’s not slow, sweetheart. That’s fucking fast.”
Her hand slowed, started to pull away. Connor spun around to stop her. Any headway, he would take it. No matter what it cost him. His instinct was to grab her hand and place it back on his body, but she wouldn’t like having her wrist manacled. He found her staring at his chest, face flushed, lips rosy and parted. His arousal surged painfully. Nothing. She hid nothing when it came to her physical needs, and her honesty tore at his layers.
“You were wounded?” Her gaze was on his right pectoral, running over the puckered flesh where he’d been shot in Brooklyn, taking a bullet meant for his cousin. “It happened when you were with the SEALs?”
Not wanting to lie to her, but reluctant to talk about the past he desperately wanted to forget, he made a gruff sound and focused on her. “Do you want me to touch you?”
She made a small sound. “Not yet. I’m not ready.”
“Okay.” He hated the sudden uncertainty creeping into her expression. Wanted to annihilate it. “Look what you do to my body, Erin. It only wants to please yours. Tell me how I can do that. Tell me how to make you better, because I’m just as lost as you.”
Her eyes cleared, heating once more. “You’re a man who likes to restrain women. Tie them down and mix pleasure with pain. Aren’t you, Connor?”
Just the words leaving her mouth sent lust raging to the surface. The way she spoke was almost hypnotic, captivating all five of his senses. Owning them. “Yes. I won’t ever lie to you.” He swallowed hard. “When I think of being inside you, I’m on top. I’m in charge. I’m so fuckingdeepI can’t breathe.”
Erin looked down at her right hand, looking surprised to find it holding a bottle of olive oil. He hadn’t noticed it either. She must have been using it to cook dinner. “Would you let me restrainyou?” She uncapped the bottle and drizzled a small amount of the golden liquid into her palm. His breathing grew unsteady as she rubbed it over his abs, then up and across his chest. Her palm coasted over his nipples, leaving them glistening with oil. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
“How?” he rasped. Could he give up control completely? He’d never handed over the power to another person. There had always been too many outside sources in his life he couldn’t organize, manage, but it always stopped in bed. He was used to ruling there.
“You’ll have to trust me.”
No. He didn’t like the idea of having his hands restrained when she could vanish so easily. Or she could panic like last night and need him. The thought of not being able to go to her, comfort her, infused him with anxiety. “The trust goes both ways, Erin. I’m telling you I won’t put my hands on you. You’ll have to trust me on that.” He took a deep breath and let the towel drop. “Do your worst.”
Jesus Christ. The hunger in her expression. It almost knocked him back against the door. Right before his eyes, her breasts swelled over the top of her bustier as her mouth fell open to suck in a raspy breath. She rubbed her thighs together in a way that told him she was growing wet just by looking at him. How the fuck could he survive this? Without any restrictions, she would have already been divested of her ass-hugging shorts and he would be banging her where she stood. Plain and simple, having her stare at his cock like it was a meal while being unable to do anything about it could very well land him in an asylum.
“Tell me you’ll spread your legs for it someday, Erin. Give me that.” He fisted his cock and pumped twice. “I can only fantasize about coming in your pussy so many times before I need the real thing. I bet you’re fuck-tight, aren’t you? Like a closed fist.”
She poured more oil into her hands and rubbed them together. “Yes, I want very much to spread my legs for it someday.” Her voice was throaty, sexual. “And yes, baby, I’m nice and tight.”
He almost came. His erection throbbed in his hand, desperate and achy. “Fuck, sweetheart. I’m dying here.”
Her slick palms dragged up his thighs, leaving slippery oil in their wake. “No, you’re not dying yet. But you will be.”
She reached behind him and pushed open the bedroom door, gently nudging him backward with a single finger pressed to his chest. The backs of his knees hit the bed a moment later and he sat, mesmerized by the starvation in her eyes. He might be in excruciating physical pain, but it would take a cavalry of armed men to prevent him from seeing what she’d do next. His question was answered when she dropped her shorts, leaving her clad only in a black thong with the words “You Wish” written across the front. Goddamn right, he wished. Wished he was fucking buried in her, pounding, teeth buried in her shoulder. “Take off your top for me. Let me see those sweet little nipples so I can imagine my mouth shining them up.”
She ran her hands up her thighs, across her belly, making them glisten. “Would you be happy only imagining it? I’m not so sure, so I think I’ll keep them covered.” With that same single finger, she urged him onto his back, showing no reaction to his miserable growl. “I’ll make it up to you, though. You see, I might have a problem being touched, but not touching. Rubbing. Orsucking.” She dragged her teeth over her lower lip and Connor’s head spun. “Hands over your head.”
He complied, anticipation tearing through his veins. She climbed on top of him, looking like a wicked fantasy, only no one could possibly dream her up. “God, I would punish that dick-tease of a body.”
“How?” She came down toward him, fusing their bodies together and sliding up. Connor bit his lip to keep from shouting at the sensation of her curves slipping over him. “Would you punish me with your hands?”
“I leave bruises, but not with my fists. Never, Erin.” He spoke through gritted teeth as she writhed on top of him, straddling him and running her thighs up the sides of his body. “But when I got hard, I’d be fucking you against the first available surface and your ass would bear the impact. That’s where you’d bruise. And looking at what I’d done would only make me hard again.”
Finally, her silk-covered pussy settled over his cock and she gave a quick buck of her hips, bringing his back off the bed with a groan. “You’re a very naughty boy, Connor. I don’t know if you deserve my mouth on you. Convince me.”
