21 Marine Salute: 21 Always a Marine Tales (93 page)

“Yes,” she moaned. A single teasing brush was all he gave her, and she wanted to cry out at the loss. She must have made some sound, because he rubbed her stomach in slow circles.

How could it make her hotter and soothe her at the same time? Hardly able to keep her legs beneath her, she needed his support to stay on her feet. He pressed a kiss to her jaw, and trailed his tongue along the line of her face to her ear, a light, almost intangible brush, before he sucked her earlobe and set off another series of quakes shocking her sensitive system.

“I’m going to let you go in a minute,” he murmured, low and husky. “And you’re going to walk over and lay on the bed.”

No, dammit
. She didn’t want him to let her go. Every caress seemed to rev her up and then he’d retreat. Unbearable tension stretched through her. Closing her eyes, she inhaled a deep breath and tried to bring her raging hormones under control. Paul shifted against her back and swept his hand from her stomach to her breast, cupping it and destroying the fragile will she’d managed to gather together.

Another moan broke free before she could bite down on it.

“Shhh,” he murmured again, catching her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. The barest amount of pressure sent shudder after shudder rippling over her. “I like to hear your pleasure. You can moan or cry out all you want.”

Oh, thank God
.

He massaged both breasts, alternating between the whisper-light caresses and squeezing her nipples. She couldn’t find the rhythm of his actions, every touch a pure assault on her senses.

He let her go and she stood, dazed.

“Go to the bed, Lillianna,” he ordered. She complied, not proud of the near stagger in her step. At the bed, she hesitated. Did he want her to lie on her back? On her stomach? Sit?

Helpless, she looked at him and he smiled. The wild heat inside of her turned up another few degrees and her heart squeezed.

“On your back, baby. Sit down and slide back until you’re comfortable.”

Staring at him scrambled her brains. Nothing spare on the man, he moved with purpose. So gorgeous, as well as funny, intelligent, and self-deprecating. Lust wound a blazing path in her bloodstream. Instead of following her, he watched with hooded eyes as she arranged herself on the bed.

She needed to be touched, held, and discover the pleasure he promised her with every brush of his skin on hers—hell, even the way his gaze roved over her. Settling on the pillows, she tried not to shiver at the cool friction of the comforter on her skin.

Sliding one knee up, she braced her foot flat against the bed and left the other leg out—a wanton position that displayed her assets for him. But she wanted him to see—wanted him to know what he did to her.

“Comfortable?” he asked in the slow, patient way he used.

“Yes,” she breathed. She couldn’t wait to see what he did next.

Paul drank in the sight of her, taking time to gather his fraying control back in place. Discipline and a desire to make the experience amazing for her was all that kept his cock in his briefs. She’d splayed herself on the bed perfectly; sweet, sinful perfection. Her uncertainty and the hesitation were both gone. He’d found the woman he caught glimpses of throughout dinner and dancing—the woman who peeked out from behind the carefully placed shields segregating her from danger and disaster—physical or emotional.

Beautiful
. Canting his head to the side, he studied her and waited. He didn’t want her confidence to waver, but he also didn’t want to rush the moment. It was a careful balance to strike and she had every reason to feel confident in her sexuality. Arousal brightened her eyes and in the low light of the bedroom, they looked like liquid gold.

The urge to possess her roused a sleeping bear within him. He enjoyed his part of the lifestyle, but he rarely found a submissive who enjoyed surrender without toys or pain. He understood the need and desire for such experiences; he’d dabbled in them, but found only real satisfaction in the exchange of power, in the absolute control when a woman surrendered.

He’d never found the perfect woman before, though.

Uncertainty flickered in her eyes and he approached slowly, stripping his briefs off in one, swift motion. Circling the bed, he checked the nightstand—condoms. It paid to be prepared. Not that he’d planned for the exquisite opportunity she gave him. He hadn’t even known Lily seven hours ago.

“Would you like me to tell you what I want to do?” He enjoyed the way her emotions played across her face. She didn’t hide anything from him, wore no carefully constructed professional or congenial mask. Hesitation gave way to relief, and when her attention dropped to his cock, it stroked him as intimately as if her hand cupped him. His right eyelid twitched.

A smile curved her sensuous mouth and satisfaction warmed his chest. She liked what she saw.
Good
.

“Yes.” She didn’t whisper and there was nothing docile in her gaze when she looked up at him.

He sat only when certain he wouldn’t roll over and explore her damp depths he’d only fingered before. The urge to trail his mouth across her for a taste, to swirl her clit with his tongue and draw it hard until she screamed with the need for release pounded in his brain.
Not yet
.

“I want to begin here.” He drifted a caress along her upright thigh, just a fleeting caress, a tease for him as much as for her. She shivered and goose bumps rose in the wake of his touch. “I want to touch every inch of your skin. I want to know what you like, what you don’t. I want to see need play across your face, I want to hear your breath catch.”

With two fingers, he traced over her knee, feathering lighter strokes to the inside of her leg. “I will explore everything. And then we’ll move up….” Mirroring his words with his touch, he deliberately pressed his palm to her sex, flattening the heel of his hand above her clit. “Except here. We play here last.”

The words came out hoarser than he intended, the urge to thrust a finger into her, to test how ready she was—would be surrendering to her. No, she wanted that and he saw it in her face, in the way her mouth formed an O, and the not-so-subtle arch of her hips.

“Bad Lily,” he chided, bottling his amusement. He could hardly be upset at her eagerness when a similar level of excitement pushed him to move faster. Defiance flared in her eyes and the tilt of her chin. “Keep it up and I won’t put my tongue right here.” He grazed her clit with his thumb, enjoying her throaty sigh and shudder. “Understand?” He brushed her clit twice more

“Magnificent.” If only he could draw their play out, and wondered if it were possible to keep them both in the constant state of arousal for hours, or if his brain would pop from the pressure. Moving on, he explored a path over her abdomen and eased farther onto the bed until he captured each of her breasts, shaping them and teasing the swollen, dusky nipples. She sucked in a breath each time he flicked the hard tips. Some women found the tap as erotic as a roll or a pinch.

“You definitely like this.” His Lily seemed to enjoy both. Her squirming became harder for him to contain and she fisted the covers in her hands.

She groaned. “Yes.” It hadn’t been a question, but she answered it anyway.

Taking pity on her or maybe himself, he licked a nipple, careful to watch her face. She closed her eyes and arched, offering the breast to him. Taking the tip into his mouth, he sucked gently, then with a harder tug. They stiffened further.

So fucking responsive
….

Her skin was like velvet, tasted like peaches and the rich rosy musk of her arousal filled his nostrils. His control wavered and he wanted to cross his eyes with the bliss of wanting her. Leaving the first nipple, he treated the second to similar attention and slid his hand over her hip. Cupping her sex, he wanted to moan.

She’d been damp before, but she soaked his palm and gave a little jump as he pressed in with one finger. So much virgin territory to explore with her, and he was as randy as a floater on his first liberty after a hella-long cruise.

Fuck it
…. He thrust his fingers in gentle rhythm, paying attention to the moments when she gasped and when her hips stiffened, or her stomach tensed. As the pauses between pants shortened, he abandoned her breasts altogether and positioned himself between her legs.

“Lift this foot, baby,” he instructed. She gave him a dazed look, pleasure dilating her pupils, and obeyed. Spreading her thighs wider, he bent his head and gave her a long lick from her entrance to her clit.

Her long, low moan echoed in his ears and he repeated the gesture. One taste and he craved a second and a third. Squeezing her ass, he held her still as his lust overrode his control. He loved the excitement in her rising moans and gasps. Every sound drove him further.

“Come for me, baby,” he murmured and locked his mouth around her clit, sucking it hard. She squirmed, her body bowing, her thighs moving against him, her hips bucking even as he fought to keep her still. He pulled back, easing off the pressure. She trembled and her sweet, dragging ‘no’ begged him for permission. Vibrating his tongue to her clit, he shoved her over the edge until her scream echoed off the walls.

He kissed the mound above her sex and then along her thighs, nibbling the soft flesh at the juncture between her leg and her sex. He enjoyed the taste of her passion. Kissing a path up her body, he lavished her breasts and crawled higher to look into her pleasure-drenched face. She reached for him and he kissed her hard. Wrapping her arms around him, she clasped her legs around his hips.

The heat of her sex rubbed his cock and he groaned into her mouth. With a little shift and twist, he’d be inside her. He flattened a hand on the bed and shoved up, breaking the kiss. Her drowsy expression was delectable. Heart thudding out of control, he reached for the condoms on the nightstand.

Ripping the foil, he never let go of her gaze. “Do you want to talk?” Yeah, his need for control warred with his need to hear her.

“No.” She smiled, and nodded to the condom.

“Ahh. You need this.” He sheathed his cock and braced himself. He didn’t want to come as soon as he slid inside of her. But holy hell, he wanted in her now. Settling back into position, he entered with one, swift thrust. Her inner muscles clamped him like a vise as he pulled out and pushed back in.

“Hang onto me, sweet Lily.” He teetered on the edge of his orgasm and he wanted her to have another before he came. She had to have another. Rocking in and out of her, he didn’t know how he managed the rhythm. “Look at me.”

Their gazes locked and he slid a hand between them, stroking her clit. She writhed beneath him and dug her nails into his shoulders. Her mouth opened in a cry, and it wasn’t yes, or no.

It was his name.

She convulsed, her orgasm dragging him deeper into her, and pulling him with her. His orgasm stormed through him, ripping him apart as he came with blazing torrent of molten heat, the flames burning him up from the inside. Collapsing on top of her, he buried his face in the curve of her neck.

He didn’t know which one of them shook—maybe both. Lifting his head, he studied her beautiful expression. Rapt joy filled her glorious smile.

“You’re amazing,” he whispered. And she was. The most amazing, submissive, sweet woman he’d ever held in his arms.

“No.” She denied it with a slow shake of her head. “You are. That was…I don’t have the words for that.” Another series of quakes clamped her sex around his softening cock and he choked on the overload of sensation.

He never wanted to let her go.

She woke slowly, cocooned in warmth, her body aching in every right way. Stretching her arm out from the covers, she shifted with care. A heavy weight rested on her waist. Glancing down, she studied the arm wrapped around her. It surprised her and didn’t in the same moment.

Blaming alcohol for sexual escapades had never been a concept she embraced. Hell, even if she wanted to blame drinking, she couldn’t. She’d had exactly one sip of champagne during the toast, and stuck to water and coffee for the rest of the night.

No, she lay naked in bed with a man because that’s exactly where she wanted to be—last night. The sun peeking through the blinds reminded her of the time. She needed to go. Time to box the wildly sexy Paul Torres into the smallest mental compartment she could find and shut the door. Easing forward, she slid out from under his arm. He tossed restlessly and rolled over. Freezing, she stole a glance over her shoulder and waited until he settled, before slipping out from beneath the covers and off the bed.

Finding her bra and panties took a bit of work. The first sat on the dresser, but the other turned out to be under the bed. She felt a bit ridiculous, her hose was still on, but she’d apparently ripped one sometime between stripping for him and his delicious assault on her senses. Shivering with desire, she sighed.

Crawling back into bed and waking him up sounded so good.

Bad idea. Get your clothes and go. No muss. No fuss. No awkward morning-after conversations
. The sensible thing to do, particularly when their one night was just that. A one-night stand—an erotic, sensual, fantastic one-night stand she would remember with a smile. Wedding fever—it happened to everyone.

Okay, it’s never happened to me, but I’ve certainly seen these hook-ups enough to put it into perspective
. Dragging her gaze away from the man candy in the bed, she found her dress and scanned the room. Her purse and shoes were by the front door. She climbed into her dress and zipped it in the living room. Finger combing her hair would suffice, especially while fighting the craving to dive back into the bed and explore. Again.

It was just after eight in the morning. Her chances of running into other people rose with every passing minute. Unclipping her garters, and stripping off her hose, she stuffed them into her purse, grabbed her shoes and hesitated at the door.

Should she leave him a note? In college, one-night stands ended with one or both darting out for class. There really wasn’t time for social protocol. Did that change in adulthood?