Blind Attraction (10 page)

He clenched his jaw, unable to speak.

“It’s not as bad as it sounds.”

He shook his head and wondered how she could say that. She wouldn’t have experienced a childhood crush, a high school dance, or even dating.

“I had contact with the outside world via the phone and Internet. I watched movies, read books, surfed the web, and talked in chat rooms. I live a relatively normal life I suppose. I’m just not used to interaction with men.”

He stepped back, unable to hold her close any longer when the anger at himself had grown into a consuming ball in his chest. She sat up straight, her gaze almost focused directly on his.

“Christ. I’m sorry. You didn’t want to meet me after the gig last night, did you?” He relived the past twelve hours in his mind while he scratched his fingers through his hair. “Fuck. You didn’t want to have that drink with me, and then when I wanted to take you to the optometrist you tried to refuse, and I pressured you.”

“Mitchell, it’s not that—”

“Damn it. I wondered why you flinched at my touch when we first met and why you didn’t want to hang around. All this time I assumed you were shy.” He scrubbed a hand over his forehead, pissed as hell that he’d been narrow minded to her objections. “Kate even tried warning me this morning, but I didn’t fucking listen.”

“Mitchell.” She pushed from the bench and stumbled forward. He caught her before she corrected herself, and then dropped his hands from her arms, not wanting to make the situation worse.

She stepped into him, grabbed onto his shoulders and stared at his throat. “Yes, I was scared. But never of you. The thing that alarmed me was how much I enjoyed your touch.” A soft kiss peppered his chin and he closed his eyes. “My mother brought me up believing all men are...” She sighed. “You weren’t what I was expecting. I like you, and those three words are something I never thought I’d have the opportunity to say to a man. So when I tell you I’m trying to fit in and trying not to feel vulnerable and needy and scared, that’s what I mean.”

He gazed down at her, hating himself for pushing her into something she wasn’t prepared for. He couldn’t even find the words to apologize.

“Please touch me, Mitchell. One last time before I leave.”

Squeezing his eyes shut, he fought for control. Fear gripped him by the balls and held tight. Disgust churned in his belly. He wanted to cocoon her in his arms and protect her from the world, just like her mother had done her entire life.

Her hands ran down his sides and under his shirt, her tiny nails scouring a trail up his chest. Christ! He needed to think. His blood burned in his veins urging him to lift her in his arms and carry her to the bed, but how could he? How could he sink himself into this fragile woman and ignore the fear that he might break her?

“Don’t think. Don’t judge. Just pretend I’m not damaged and make love to me before I go. Please.”

Delicate fingers found his nipples, tweaking, rubbing until he needed to bite his tongue to stay in control. His erection jerked between them, begging for attention. The need to take her built inside him, growing and morphing until he wanted to fall to his knees in surrender.

“Mitchell?” She kissed his neck, trailing her fingers down his chest, over his stomach. Lower. When she gripped his cock he hissed in a breath and everything inside him snapped.

His lips found hers and one hand cupped her face. He opened the door and shuffled her backward into the bedroom. He devoured her, tasted every part of her mouth, and held her tight to his chest so she couldn’t let go. She whimpered, mewled, the tiny, needy sounds sinking into his soul, her dainty fingers gripping his waist.

He lifted her, hauling her ass into his hands while her legs wrapped around his hips. The heat of her pussy burned through his boxers. Her hands cupped his face, keeping their lips meshed as he walked her to the bed.

When his knees hit the side of the mattress he dropped her, letting her fall back on the soft quilt. Plates clanged and cutlery collided from the other side of the bed. Their breakfast feast still laid there, the food now teetering at odd angles with the weight. And Blake nowhere in sight.

Not taking any chances, Mitch stalked to the bedroom door and found his friend sitting on the sofa, laptop in hand. “I’m closing the fucking door. You so much as touch the handle, and I’ll break your fingers.”

Blake grinned. “No problem. I’ll just put my ear against the wall and listen.”

Mitch clenched his fist and took a threatening step forward.

“I’m joking.” Blake chuckled. “Geez, lighten up.”

Mitch continued to glare as he slammed the door.

In three steps he was on the bed, walking on his knees toward Alana. She rested on her elbows, her eyes gazing unfocused on the quilt beside her. He’d regretted not being able to save her from harm yesterday, but right now his desire to have her looking at him made his chest ache. He needed her to see the emotion in his expression because the thought of putting his feelings into words scared the shit out of him.

His palms began to sweat, and his throat constricted. There was no time to breathe. No time to think. He wanted inside her and his world would end if he didn’t get there soon. He gripped the waist of his shirt, pulled it off and threw it to the floor.

Her head turned, following the noise and when he sat back on his haunches, simply staring at her face, she frowned and blinked back at him.

“Mitchell?”

He moved closer, hating the confusion in her voice. “Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I...I can’t see.” She swallowed and sat up. “I need you to tell me what to do.
Show me
what to do.”

He shuffled closer until they were an inch apart. “Just touch me.” He picked up her hands and placed them on his chest, one over his heart. Leaning in, he nipped her chin, kissed her neck. “I want you to touch me everywhere.”

Her head fell to the side giving him better access to lick and nip and nuzzle. The tender stroke of her fingers fell down his pecs, waving over each of his ribs, and stopped at the waist of his boxers. His mind screamed for her to go lower, to grip him again and relieve some of his suffering.

“Allie, are you sure you want to do this?” He licked a trail along her collarbone.

“Yes,” she panted. “It’s all I want.” The elastic at his waist lowered. “Just you.”

He helped her remove his boxers, the plates on the bed colliding as he pulled first one leg, then the other free. He sat naked before her, and breathed slowly through the uncertainty. Women usually devoured him with their eyes, their lips, their tongues. He wasn’t used to going without the looks of admiration. He’d never realized the boost they gave his ego.

Alana reached for the bottom of her T-shirt—his T-shirt—and pulled it over her head. He shut his mouth to stop himself from gaping and simply gazed at her, taking in her beauty. She had the most perfect body, just like he expected. Round, pert breasts with dark pink nipples, and a slim waist he couldn’t wait to get his hands on.

“I hope you’re not staring.” She grinned at him as she started to lower the loose boxers and her panties at the same time.

“I’m sorry to disappoint.” His voice went hoarse.

Alana licked her lips, a nervous gesture that had him gripping his cock in an effort to beat back his arousal. “You’re beautiful.”

Her gaze lowered and her hands came up to run over his shoulders, around his neck. “Kiss me.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. His lips claimed hers, soft at first, then the pressure changed into an uncontrollable urgency. They gripped at one another, their hands roaming each other’s bodies in a frenzy he couldn’t understand and didn’t contemplate. He leaned into her and hugged her close while he lowered her to the pillows.

She lay in his arms, her gaze unfocused around his chin. Her hips pressed into his, the tiny gyrations making his erection rub against her sex. He growled and ran his hand over breasts that begged to be cupped and a waist that yearned to be trailed in kisses. Her fingers rested on his shoulders, their grip becoming tighter the further south he traveled.

When he reached the mound of curls between her thighs, she sucked in a breath. The musk of her arousal lay heady and hypnotic in the air. Later he would taste her, suck her pussy lips into his mouth and feast on her. But now he wanted to touch. He trailed lower, brushed her clit and smiled to himself when she bucked.

“You mentioned before that no man had ever brought you pleasure.”

She nodded. “Except you.”

“So tell me now, do I make you feel good?”

He ran his index finger through the wet juices of her slit and she responded with a gasp.

“Yes,” she panted, swallowed. “I love how you touch me.”

With teasing slowness he nudged two fingers inside her core, then retreated. He repeated the movement over and over and over again, each time sinking a little deeper until her hands clung to the headboard and she whimpered in need.

He lowered himself down her body, licking a path down her stomach. One of her hands clutched his hair, her fingers gripping the strands tight enough to make his cock jerk. He kissed her curls and swiped her clit with his tongue.

“Oh, god, Mitchell.” Her hips rocked with his strokes, each motion sinking them deeper. The sound of her cries, the suction of her pussy, the heat of her body, drove him wild. He needed to take her. To sink into her. To spend himself in the most enticing woman he’d ever seen.

He twisted and turned his fingers with each withdrawal, hoping to find her sweet spot. At the same time, he sucked her clit into his mouth. Two strokes later he was rewarded with the first spasm of her core.

“Mitchell.” She cried his name and pulled at his hair. He didn’t stop. He worked her harder, flicking and licking the bundle of nerves until her back arched off the bed and she gasped with pleasure. Watching her writhe in orgasm filled him with overpowering emotion. His heart palpitated, his stomach turned, and his throat tightened. He clenched his eyes closed, silently thanking her for the trust she’d gifted him.

Gradually her body stilled, the only sound between them coming from their frantic breaths.

“Ready for round two?”

She chuckled as he made his way up her body, biting and licking her salty flesh. He couldn’t look into her eyes, not now. Even though she couldn’t see him, he still felt exposed, his heart on his sleeve ready to give to her.

“I don’t think I’ll ever want to stop.”

He grazed his teeth over her breast. “Don’t tell me that or I’ll never let you go.”

Her lips pressed together in a bashful smile. He reached for the bedside table and retrieved a condom. As he sheathed himself in quick jerks, she ran her nails down his waist, sending goose bumps on a burning trail around his body.

“Mitchell?”

He rested himself between her thighs, nuzzled the base of her neck and inhaled the lingering scent of her perfume. “Mmm?”

“Can we do this differently?”

He leaned back on his arms and peered down at her. “What do you mean?”

Her throat convulsed with a swallow. “Can I be on top?”

He blinked. Were there twenty-four hours in a day? Hell yes. “I think I can accommodate that.”

Clutching her around the waist he switched their positions, rolling them to the edge of the king-size bed and away from the clattering plates. She pushed to her knees and hovered the heat of her sex above his erection.

“I’ve never—”

“I know.” He gripped her hips and ground his length along her slit.

She rose higher allowing him to position the head of his cock at her entrance. Slowly, she lowered onto him, taking him inch after agonizing inch into her tight pussy. He groaned, gripped the headboard, and closed his eyes. He was done for, completely lost to her perfection.

Her hands rested on his pecs as she began to rise and fall. He ground his teeth together, trying not to let the snug grasp on his shaft drive him over the edge. Each undulation tortured him with undiluted pleasure, inching him closer and closer to completion.

“You’re quiet… Am I doing it wrong?”

Fuck. He was Marcel Marceau, unable to get a word out for fear of losing control. He clenched the headboard tighter, sucked in a breath and went to his happy place. “So good, Allie. Don’t stop.”

He needed to touch her, to concentrate on what she needed before he blew the whole ball game. Releasing his talon grip, he opened his eyes and rested his hands on her thighs. Her hips rocked faster at his touch. He slid his hands up her hips, over her waist, and cupped her breasts, teasing her nipples between his fingers.

“Oh, yes.” She ground harder, sharper. Her hands reached up to hold his in place and she groaned, her pussy milking him, clenching tighter. Plates clattered, bowls tipped, but he didn’t care.

Her teeth bore into her lower lip and she leaned her head back, riding him like a prized pony. He bucked into her, increasing their pace. “Oh, god, you feel good.” Like fire and silk and heaven.

She touched herself, and he closed his eyes at the erotic image she made. He jerked when her fingers brushed his sac, not expecting the sudden shot of awesome. “Sweetheart, don’t… I’m…I’m almost there.”

A smile tilted her lips but she ignored him and lightly massaged his balls, while the other hand dipped lower to play with her clit.

“Tease.”

She grinned at him, her dimples showing. Damn he wanted that mouth. He sat up, caught her gasp with his lips and sent his tongue in search of hers.

“Ride me,” he demanded with a thrust of his pelvis. The plates on the bed punctuated his movements with a clang.

Her legs moved around his waist and her hands to his face. She sucked on his tongue and complied, her hips retreating then sliding home, retreating then sliding home. He closed his eyes, focusing on nothing but the way her slick heat glided over his cock. When she broke the kiss, panting into his neck, he gripped her ass in both hands and thrust hard.

Her cry filled the room and her back arched, lifting her breasts close to his face. His balls began to tighten with an impending climax he had no hope of controlling. He lowered his head to her chest, drew a nipple into his mouth and sucked hard.