Believe It or Not (23 page)

***

In all her years of dating, Violet had never had a guy sweep her off her feet and carry her around as if he were some sort of caveman.

Of course, she’d never brained herself on a stripper pole while trying to seduce a man, either.

This was definitely a night of firsts.

Drew kicked his office door shut behind him and set her on a leather sofa that was huge and surprisingly cozy.

“So this is your lair?” she asked, looking around the room as he released her just long enough to click the lock shut on his office door.

“One of several,” he said. “I move whenever the space gets too full of mastodon carcasses.”

“Hmm, yes, it’s tough to drag women around by the hair with all those bones in the way.”

Drew was back at the couch now, his hands huge and hot on her knees as he knelt down on the carpet in front of her. Violet gasped as his fingers slid along her bare thighs, pushing her skirt up roughly. His mouth found a spot on the outside of her left knee—hardly a familiar erotic zone—but Violet groaned with pleasure as his tongue made slow circles there and began teasing its way up.

“This time, you’re not running away,” he murmured.

“I promise not to try.”

She tossed her ice pack aside and twisted her hands into his hair, leaning back against the sofa as Drew moved over the crest of her knee to nip the skin on her inner thigh. Then he slid back down to make lazy circles with his tongue on the back side of her knee.

“Oh, God,” Violet whimpered, and felt herself slide lower on the couch. The hem of her skirt rode higher, giving Drew access to previously unclaimed territory.

She’d been eyeing his shoulders for weeks now, wondering how the broad expanse of muscle and bone would feel beneath her palms. Now she had a free pass to devour every curve of him, to trace each muscle with the tips of her fingers. She grazed him lightly with her nails, enjoying the tautness of flesh, the quiver of muscle.

More.

Drew slid one hand higher under her skirt, palming the curve of her butt while his tongue traced a nerve on the inside of her thigh.

Whimpering again, Violet sat up and clawed at the neck of his shirt, fumbling her way over his collar to reach the top button. She grabbed hold of it and yanked, feeling crazed, delirious, wanting him so much, her skin ached.

“Whoops.” A button popped off and went skittering across the floor. “Sorry.”

“Not a problem,” Drew murmured against her thigh, somehow managing to shrug the shirt off the rest of the way without breaking contact between her flesh and his mouth. A few more buttons went bouncing under the sofa, but Violet barely noticed.

She drank him in with her eyes, marveling at all the muscle and flesh that was there for her use. It was like a buffet packed with amazing delicacies she never knew existed. She slid her hands around his back, clutching at his shoulder blades as Drew pushed her skirt up higher around her hips.

“Blue lace,” he murmured appreciatively, sliding a finger along the waistband. “You found the matching set this time instead of skipping the panties.”

She gasped as Drew slid a finger beneath the wispy fabric. He barely made contact, but Violet felt stars explode behind her eyelids. His touch was delicate, slippery, slow, and Violet bit the back of her hand to keep from crying out.

Drew laughed. “No one’s here. Feel free to make as much noise as you want.”

Violet gasped as he stroked her again. She pressed against him, urging him to be rougher, to slide inside her. Drew pulled back, taking his time, teasing her.

“More,” she whimpered.

“Not yet.”

“Please?”

Drew just laughed and slid his finger away, moving along the edge of the lace, tracing her pelvic bone, the edge of her hip. His other hand still palmed the curve of her butt, his fingers digging roughly into muscle and flesh.

God, I want him.

Violet slid her fingernails down his ribs, the ripple of skin, the hardness of bone. She groaned and pulled him closer, his pecs tight against her bare knees.

She wanted to feel more of him.
All
of
him.

She pressed a hand to his bare chest and pushed hard, toppling him backward onto the carpet. His expression barely registered surprise before Violet lunged for him, pinning him down between her thighs. Her skirt was still bunched around her waist as she clenched her legs around him and held him against her.

“I take it you wanted to change positions?” he said, fastening his hands around her hips.

“Yes,” she moaned, partly to answer the question, partly because he felt so damn good pressed against her.

Violet felt the carpet grinding into her bare knees, but she didn’t care if it scraped them raw. She could feel the hardness of him straining against his jeans, the thin wisp of lace between her legs not offering any protection from the rough denim.

Good.

She ground against him, gasping at the sensation, writhing harder, craving more.

“God, you’re so hot,” Drew moaned, clutching her hips hard enough to leave marks in her flesh.

Violet reached up and fumbled with the buttons on her blouse, giving only a fleeting thought to the price of expensive silk as she tugged at the opening. Another button joined the growing pile on the floor.

She wriggled her arms free and tossed the blouse aside, giving Drew a full view of the lace bra. She was desperate to press her breasts against all that beautiful muscle and flesh. She bent forward, gasping as her nipples grazed the wall of muscle beneath her.

“Perfect breasts,” he gasped, and reached around to cup them from the sides.

Violet sat up a little and moaned as his thumbs found her nipples and began making slow circles. His fingers dug into her ribs, not gentle, not that she wanted him to be. She gripped his shoulders hard.

“More,”
she gasped, and ground herself against him, feeling the seam of his jeans rough between her legs. He was so hard.

She slid down a little, reaching for his fly. The denim was damp—probably her fault, but she was way beyond caring. She wanted him so badly she was dizzy from it. She slid down farther, clawing at his belt buckle, yanking at the button fly on his jeans, ferocious in her desire.

Drew groaned as her fingernails raked the tender flesh of his belly, but he didn’t pull away. He looked up at her, his eyes flashing with heat.

“We should have thought ahead and worn Velcro,” he murmured, and reached down to help her yank his jeans the rest of the way off.

Violet smiled down at him, delighted to have him nearly naked beneath her. She reached for his waistband, ready to peel away the last layer.

“Wait,” Drew gasped. “Condom. Top right drawer.”

Violet grinned. “Wait,” she repeated, her voice teasing. “Not just yet.”

She reached behind her and found the ice pack where she’d dropped it at the edge of the sofa. Drew’s eyes widened a little, but he didn’t protest as Violet peeled the bag open and pulled out an ice cube. She held it between two fingers, touching it to his sternum and drawing it downward.

Drew gasped as she slid the melting cube along his chest, moving slowly, making wet circles around one nipple, then the other, the trail of chilly water sliding down his ribs.

He gasped as she leaned forward and slid her tongue up his rib cage, warming the chilled flesh. When the ice cube was completely melted, she sat up and grinned.

“Good thing there’s more,” she murmured, and started to reach behind her.

“Good thing,” Drew agreed, and caught both of her wrists in one hand. He used his free hand to reach for the ice pack, grinning at her as he pinned her hands in place against his chest.

Slowly, he drew the ice cube along the thin flesh on the inside of her arm. Violet shivered against him, wriggling as he licked his way toward the crook of her elbow. He held tight to her wrists, not letting her move.

“Very wet,” he murmured.

“Don’t stop.”

Goose bumps pricked her forearms, but every other spot on her body was burning with heat. She writhed against him, wanting to feel more of him.

The ice melted and Drew released her hands. The second she was free, she grabbed for his waistband, tugging at the elastic of his boxer briefs. Her hands were greedy, searching, and she gasped as she wrapped her fingers around the length of him. Drew gasped too, as Violet gripped him hard, enjoying the solid heat in her palm.

She teased him like that for a few more seconds, sliding her fingers over him, stroking him, memorizing every beautiful inch of his hardness.

Drew moved against her, his hips rising to meet her, his hand gripping the edge of her thigh. He reached for her hand.

“You’d better stop,” he murmured. “Unless you want this to be over before it starts.”

She grinned and stroked him harder. “Make me.”

“My pleasure.”

Before she could say anything else, he flipped her neatly onto her back, pinning her beneath him. Violet’s breath escaped in a whoosh as he used his weight to press her against the carpet, all that hot, heavy muscle against her. She was trapped. Possessed.

She’d never felt so desirable.

Drew grabbed her wrists again, his hands huge and powerful as he pinned them over her head. She groaned as he pressed the tender flesh against the carpet, and Violet raised her hips to feel more of him.

She lifted her head and found his pulse with her tongue. She traced the curve of his neck, tasting salt, cedar, desire.

Drew groaned, his voice rumbling against her lips.

“I’ve wanted you from the first day I saw you,” he murmured, drawing his teeth along the column of her neck. “Did you know that?”

“Yes,” she gasped.

He laughed. “Modest.”

“I wanted you, too.”

“I know.”

Violet opened her legs and clenched them around his hips, locking her ankles to pull him tighter against her. She groaned as she felt his hardness against the whisper of damp lace between her legs.

Drew was kissing her shoulder, moving his way down her sternum, his tongue hot and searching. He used his free hand to shove her bra strap to one side, releasing her left breast. His mouth covered her nipple, devouring her, and Violet moaned.

He circled slowly, using his tongue to tease, to make her mindless. He tugged her strap the rest of the way down and cupped her breast in his palm, kneading her roughly while his tongue made delicate circles. The contrast of soft and rough, gentle and firm, left her feeling dizzy, breathless.

She bucked against him, wanting more, wanting release.

“Please,” she gasped.

“Not yet.”

“Drew.”

He laughed. “I love the way you say my name.”

“So make me scream it.”

She raised her hips again, harder this time, desperate to buck him off, to seize control again. He was stronger, but she had the element of surprise. Wrenching her wrists free, she raked her fingernails down his back. He rolled away, and Violet made her escape, her heart pounding hard with desire.

She grabbed for the ice again, grabbing a little more this time. She pushed against his chest with the heel of her hand, pressing him back down onto the carpet. He didn’t resist, though it was obvious he could dominate her again anytime he wanted.

She smiled. “My turn.”

With one hand still on his chest, she dragged the ice-filled palm down his torso and wrapped her fingers around him. He gasped—from shock or pleasure, Violet couldn’t tell. Probably both.

She slid the ice down his hard length, taking care to let the heat of her fingers warm one spot of flesh while the ice slipped coolly along another. She glided her hand back up, then down again, then up, alternating pressure. He thrust against her palm, and Violet felt her pulse speed up. She twisted her grip, feeling the melted ice slide down her wrist. She bent to lick it off and paused to breathe warmly against Drew’s abdomen.

“Violet,” Drew gasped. “You’d better stop…”

“Hmm?” she said, letting her hair tickle his belly.

Drew sat up and caught her shoulders in his hands. His eyes were desperate, pupils dilated, his breath was ragged.

Violet sat back, triumphant, desperate, hungry.

“Now?” she gasped.

Drew grinned and flipped her over again, and Violet savored the weight of him once more. His chest was rough against her breasts, and she felt her hip bones pushing hard into him.

He sat up a little, his weight shifting as he reached across her to yank open his desk drawer.

“Good thinking,” she gasped as he tore open the condom packet with his teeth.

“I’ve only got a few brain cells still functioning,” he said, releasing her just long enough to sheathe himself.

He slid into her hard, so sudden it stole her breath. She arched against him and cried out, rising up to meet him as he thrust into her again.

She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him against her, wanting to hold all that sensation.

He moved slowly at first, gentle after all that roughness. She pressed her heels against his tailbone, urging him on, lifting her hips.

“So soft,” he murmured against her throat. “You’re so soft.”

Violet gripped his shoulder blades and moaned, moving under him as he began to thrust harder, deeper. He was balancing his weight on his hands, trying not to crush her, but Violet wanted to be crushed. She pulled him down to her, kissing him deeply, pushing herself up against him.

“God, Violet.”

He thrust into her again, hitting something that made her lose her breath. She gasped as he moved again, rocking into her harder.

Oh, Yes!

She began to lose her grasp on all the other sensations around her. She barely noticed the rug grating her elbows, the scent of leather, the hum of a long-forgotten ’80s pop tune from the sound system on the other side of the locked door.

All she noticed was him. The movement of his hips, the slam of his heartbeat against hers, the sticky heat of his skin.

“Oh, God!” she shrieked as the first wave of sensation crashed into her, knocking her backward as she gripped him tighter.