Double Down (9 page)

His head fell back for a second before he yanked it up again. He didn’t want to miss a single second of this show.

She licked and sucked at his flesh, opening her mouth over the heavy curve of his sac. Her tongue danced wet fire over his swollen head. When she took him in her mouth, she looked up at him. Wicked amusement danced in her blue eyes.

Ryan ran a hand over her head. He almost wished she still had the braids, but the prim twisted bun fit the scenario much better. Still, he’d like to be able to wrap his hand in her hair. He gave in to the impulse and drew out the pins and elastic tie holding the bun in place.

He tugged the red-gold locks forward over her shoulders until they tumbled across the top of her chest. On one level, he hoped the distraction of her hair would hold off the orgasm steadily building at the base of his spine. It didn’t work.

If anything, it contributed to the entire picture: Cassandra kneeling in front of him, worshiping his cock with licks and a strong suck. The mess he’d made of her hair only contributed to her appeal. Now she wasn’t just a French maid; she was a French maid he’d tempted into depravity.

She set her teeth behind the ridge of his head and rocked ever so slightly.

Ryan hissed in a breath then grabbed her chin to draw her forward. He couldn’t let her keep that up. Their time would be over much too soon.

“
Monsieur
,” she said. Her mouth glistened almost as brightly as her eyes. “You didn’t allow me to finish my task. You’ll think me quite negligent.”

He choked on something that was half laugh, half chagrin. That she was keeping up the game was almost enough to make him come. “Go get the condoms out of my inside jacket pocket.”

“Yes, sir,” she breathed. She hopped to her feet to obey.

Watching her sashay across the room was a gift in itself. Her ass peeked out now and then below the fluff of her skirt. She reached unnecessarily high into the closet, as if she’d somehow mislaid his jacket on the shelf. Then she came back with a strip of condoms dangling from her fist.

“So many,
monsieur
? You were quite sure of yourself, weren’t you?”

Not nearly. He’d been merely hopeful when snagging them from a convenience store. He took them and ripped one off the end. He held it out to her. “You know what to do.”

Fuck, he was sick. The sight of Cassandra’s slender fingers unfurling the latex over his dick was almost as affecting as the strokes. Pulling her up his body along the bed, he framed her face for a kiss that flared hot about as fast as humanly possible. She eased onto his lap, sitting sideways across his legs. Her hands dove into his hair and wrenched. The small pain wasn’t enough to ground him. He didn’t know if there was anything that would bring him back to earth after this night.

He scooped her into his arms, only to deposit her against the pile of white pillows. She let go of his hair and stretched her arms over her head. Ryan settled onto his front between her outstretched legs.

She had the best pout on the planet. “Have I made up for my…transgressions? Whatever shall you do with me next?”

Using just one finger, he traced the edge of the bodice. The top curves of her breasts were pinked with arousal, and her chest lifted and fell with fast breaths. The outfit had a miniature apron made of sheer lace. Directly beneath it was her pussy. When he cupped his hand over the spot and pressed firmly, he flicked his gaze up to take in her expression.

Pleasure. Sugary pleasure slackened her mouth and made her eyelids droop. Good. He didn’t want anything for her but flat-out enjoyment.

He looped his fingers around her ankle, then stroked all the way up to her thighs, over the sheer material of her stockings. He couldn’t help a grin. “My dear Cassandra, I’m going to do anything I like with you.”

Chapter Ten

Cass had lost sight of almost everything she’d known about herself. All she wanted was mindless, obliterating sex with Ryan Haverty. Nothing else mattered. Nothing else came close.

She looked down, soaking in the sight of his body. He was the fittest, most luscious man she’d ever been with. That wasn’t even taking into account his long, thick cock—a fabulous bonus. Those beautiful muscles along his ribs were tense with the strain of holding himself in check. His abs quirked and quivered. Even the hard bulge of his quadriceps shivered with the effort.

“Up on your knees, Cassandra. Face the headboard.”

She almost felt like resisting. Just for a moment. How long could he go without completely losing control?

That was an experiment for another day. She wanted him. Now.

With deliberate care, she levered off the pillows. He allowed her enough space but hovered over her the whole time. Only when she turned toward the wall did he touch her. Both of his hands took hold of hers, forcing them up to the elaborate wrought-iron headboard.

“You like when I tell you what to do, don’t you?”

Cass dipped her chin to her chest, dragging a long breath into her lungs. She’d experienced flickers of this feeling before, but never for long. Her boyfriends hadn’t been the most competent stream of clowns. Taking control of her own orgasm, no matter a lover’s failings, had been a sign of strength and independence. Worst case, she could always get off on her own.

This was different—this night, this stranger. She wasn’t the only one working toward her pleasure. That made her submission practically freeing. So good. So much easier to admit in the guise of her French character.

“Only because I trust you to make it good. For both of us.”

“Cassandra,” he whispered, his lips brushing her bare shoulder blade. “You are a wonder.”

“Major?”

“Hm?”

“I’m waiting.”

“Indeed you are. Hold on to that headboard and don’t you dare let go. Understand?”

“
Oui
,
monsieur
.”

“Good girl.” He nestled against her backside, his palms flat on her outer thighs. “Such a good girl.”

Ryan’s thumbs circled the flesh of her ass, kneading, squeezing. Arching back, Cass let her body beg for what it needed. She was strung out on the rack of another climax just waiting to happen. Palms beginning to sweat, she gripped the headboard until her knuckles turned white.

Their first time had been so fast, his cock thrusting deep with one smooth push. Not so now. Those clever, blunt fingers found the entrance to her pussy. He teased in and out, each tickling flick of movement ratcheting her higher.

“So mean,” she whispered.

“You love it.”

“God, yes.”

“You want more, don’t you?”

“
Oui
.”

He curled over her, holding his balance with those powerful thighs. His body bent to match the arch of her spine. Big hands slid around to scoop her breasts out of the bodice, teasing and tugging her nipples until they stood as hard points, her flesh hanging heavy and full. All the while he nipped biting kisses along her nape and down the bumps of her spine.

Cass couldn’t breathe, couldn’t see straight. She let her head dangle uselessly between her upraised arms, dragging gulp after gulp into her lungs.

Only when his hands returned to her clit did she hope for an end to the exquisite torture. He was so good. Damn good. But she needed to come or she’d start begging.

Maybe that might do the trick.

“Please,
monsieur
.
Merci
. I need you.”

“Tell me what you need.” He sounded like another man altogether, so gruff and clamped down. He positioned the head of his prick at her entrance, still teasing, still driving her crazy.

“I need your cock inside me,” she said, enjoying the freedom of giving voice to her depraved thoughts. She flipped her hair so she could look back over her shoulder. “I need you to fuck me.
S’il vous plaît
.”

This time he gave her what she wanted. Each inch, each maddening inch, spread her wider, filling her. Her shuddering moan matched his when his pelvis finally snuggled flush against her ass, his cock buried to the hilt.

“Goddamn,” he choked out.

Then he started to move, dragging out the moment. They were suspended between wanting it
now
and wanting it never to end. Cass was already fighting the orgasm that gathered where he filled her so completely.

Ryan too had human limits. His rhythm picked up, as did his ragged breathing. He grabbed a fistful of Cass’s unbound hair, tugging her head back. The sharp pain made her smile—just enough sting. She was caught there, held captive by his body. That thought alone made her shake.

Faster now, pounding now, Ryan hit his stride. God, he was huge. Huge and strong and fucking her deeper with every thrust. The headboard clattered against the wall, but Cass was ready to make some noise. Wake the neighbors. Wake the whole damn Strip. Her orgasm built and built, so strong that when she finally came, she let a gasping scream go free.

Ryan had grabbed the headboard too, using it for leverage. Up and up, deeper now, he thrust into her slick, quivering pussy. His guttural grunt and a low, groaned, “Fuck,” signaled his potent release.

Coming down from such a high was like the most euphoric morning after. All Cass could do was laugh. The giddy, bubbling laughter wouldn’t be contained. Her mind had gone dark except for how incredible it had been.

Disengaging, Ryan ditched his condom and flopped back on the bed. Still clinging to the headboard, her body a wreck of overused muscles and adrenaline, she looked down at him. He wore the expression of a man who’d been ushered into heaven. Her bite marks had bruised his skin, but the dressing room seemed so long ago.

He opened his arms. “C’mon,” he said softly. “Lie down.”

Cass forced herself to move, but she didn’t join him on the bed. First she stripped out of her costume. Though the naughty beauty had served its purpose, she wanted to sleep skin to skin. Preferrably for a week.

Ryan’s eyes were all over her again, but not with the intensity of lust. He wore a crooked smile. “I like how you think.”

“Haven’t been doing much of that lately.” Her voice sounded odd without the accent. She was Cass again. That could be good too—as if the costume and the character had served their purposes.

She snuggled in close beside him, both of them wiggling under the covers. Only when she rested against his chest, their breathing returning to normal, did she ask the big mystery question of the night.

“Where did you get your costume? It’s amazing.”

Ryan froze. “My dress uniform?”

“Yeah? I mean, where…?”

He was the one laughing now. “Oh, that’s too much. You thought… Huh, I’m kinda glad.”

Cass raised up on her elbow. “What are you talking about?”

Laughter still danced in his eyes and shaped his mouth into a smile. “I am Major Ryan Haverty, US Air Force.”

“For real?”

“For real.”

“No way.”

“Here, hold on.”

He slipped out of bed and crossed to the closet where she’d hung his coat. She got a fabulous view of his naked backside. Taut, defined muscle flexed as he walked. Absolutely glorious.

Ryan returned to the bed with the easy walk of a self-assured man. The penis she’d enjoyed so much was much less intimidating now. Seeing him this way, now, only hours after their first introduction, struck her as almost unbearably intimate.

“Here,” he said. “My flight wings and name tag. I was so worked up that I didn’t trust myself to pin them on.”

Cass ran a finger over the metal wings. The name tag said
HAVERTY
. These were no costume shop doodads.

Her snort was
not
attractive. She buried her face in the pillows. “Oh,
God
. How embarrassing.”

“No way. It was perfect.” He sat on the edge of the mattress, which dipped under his weight. Again, just that simple detail was more intimate than she could’ve imagined. He touched her shoulder, tracing slow circles over her skin. “I’m glad you didn’t know. Too real. You know?”

She turned to face him. “I think so. It might’ve been harder to pretend had I known you were telling the truth.”

He was back in bed before the rest of his story caught up with her.

“Wait, so you really do fly…what plane was it?”

“F-16s. That’s right.”

“And you’ve been to Paris?”

“Best leave of my career,” he said with a grin. “But I won’t go into that.”

“Probably explains the French-maid thing.”

His expression sobered, almost as it had in the sex shop. “I don’t know what explains that, Cassandra.”

He blinked and looked away. The vulnerability was gone in a flash.

“You always call me Cassandra. Why?”

“Because Cass doesn’t fit you.”

“No?”

Rolling onto his side, Ryan faced her while she reclined on her back. “You have the best curves. So damn sexy.” As if to accentuate the thought, he petted and smoothed with those big, broad hands. “Cassandra,” he whispered against her collarbone, “fits you much better.”

She shivered and grabbed his hair, dragging his mouth back for a deep, tender kiss.

Ryan only got up again to turn off the lights. She noticed how he checked the locks on the hotel-room door, securing the chain. It didn’t surprise her at all. Somehow that nod toward their safety was in keeping with how protected he’d made her feel all night. Such a bizarre thing to imagine about a near-stranger.

She had to stop thinking of him that way. Two people didn’t do what they’d done and still regard one another as strangers. They were lovers. Even if they never shared another night together, Cass would always think of him that way.

With the room in darkness, the lights of the Strip seemed all the brighter. He walked back to the bed bathed in dots of color. Together they snuggled under the covers. Warm and contented, still fizzy and giddy and thoroughly worn out, Cass liked how his arms curved her more snugly against his hard length.

“Fighter pilot,” she said in the dark. “No wonder you’re in such good shape.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Meant it that way. So those two you were with at dinner?”