Damaged Goods (13 page)

that we were in the house, we didn"t speak at all. On the way up the stairs, down

the hall, and into the bedroom, silence. Austin closed the door behind him, nudging

it shut with his back. We both halted, looking at each other like we both hoped the

other would make the first move. We were more like a couple of nervous teenagers

than a pair of experienced adults.

“This is”—he muffled a cough—“not something I"ve done before.”

“Then I guess we"ll figure it out as we go.”

“I guess we will.”

Austin found the courage to move before I did and came across the narrow

strip of distance. Eyes never leaving mine, he put his hands on the sides of my neck,

and I swore I could hear his heart pounding in time with my own.

Perhaps reasoning it was a familiar—and thus safe—path toward whatever

the hell we were doing, we started with the same motions we"d followed out on the

waterfront. He tilted his head. I raised my chin. He leaned closer. I leaned closer.

No air moved between his lips and mine, so he must have been holding his breath

too. From the start, he"d always been so unafraid, the well of practiced courage

when uncertainty had paralyzed me, and now he was just as unsure. God knew just

what we were about to ignite, but the paper was too close to the flame to pull back

now.

Our lips came together so softly I wondered if I"d imagined that first contact.

Then he held me tighter and deepened the kiss. With a deeper kiss came deeper

breaths, pulling in air and releasing it in sharp, cool huffs against each other"s

faces.

Austin broke the kiss and stroked my cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Are

you sure about this?”

I couldn"t have turned back now if I"d wanted to. “Are you?”

“I"m sure my boss would kill me if she knew.” His hand rested on the back of

my neck. “But what she doesn"t know…” He kissed me again.

I held his face in both hands, my fingertips memorizing the rough texture of

his stubble and the silkiness of his goatee. His jaw moved beneath my palms, a

60

Lauren Gallagher

shadow of the smooth, languid movements within. The occasional thrum of a moan

against my lips made my pulse soar, and the taste of his kiss and his familiar scent

intoxicated me.

We both kicked off shoes and toed them out of the way. Without my heels, our

height difference was more pronounced. I felt tiny in his arms, and I loved it.

Nerves made us clumsy. Hands that had steadied my hips against a hotel wall

suddenly couldn"t work buttons. Legs that had hooked around his waist to pull him

deeper now couldn"t take a step without stumbling. The mouth that could

effortlessly bring shattering orgasms out of me was tentative, uncertain, moving

slowly with my own.

Somehow, though buttons baffled me just then, I got his jacket unbuttoned and

off his shoulders. With a shrug, he dropped it behind him, and seconds later, his

vest landed on top of it, followed by his tie in a flutter of shiny crimson silk. We both

struggled to unbutton his shirt and finally gave up, pushing it over his head

instead.

He unzipped the back of my dress and slid it off my shoulders. When it was

gone, pooling forgotten at our feet, he bent to kiss my neck, wrapping his warm

arms around me once again. Fingertips moved against my back, and a second later,

my bra went slack. I let it tumble down my arms. It caught on my hand, and I shook

it away, silently cursing at it like it was a spiderweb that wouldn"t let go. When it

finally fell away, he drew me back to him, and the heat of his skin drew the breath

right out of my lungs.

Then he kissed me and nudged me toward the bed. Legs shaking beneath me, I

moved with no conscious thought, responding to his steps like a dancer being led.

His kiss made my head spin, anticipation made my heart race, and with every inch

of ground we gained across the floor, my knees weakened. Had we needed just one

more step, I was certain I would have collapsed, but when we reached the bed, it

was Austin—not gravity, not my own liquefied limbs—who gently laid me down.

He took my hands and pinned them to the pillow beside my head, his forearms

over mine and our fingers laced together. Then he kissed me. God in heaven, did he

kiss me.

Sabian hadn"t been a forceful kisser since day one, and Austin didn"t start now.

Gentle and sensual. Tasting, not devouring. One minute, his tongue explored my

mouth. The next, he was content just to let his lips move against mine. Always

changing, always different from one moment to another, always perfect.

He broke the kiss and started to pull away, but I lifted my head off the pillow

to follow him, seeking more and finding it when he returned to me and kissed me

like that again. After a moment, he tried and failed to break away again. He

tightened his grasp on my hands and pressed his hips against me, his rock-hard

erection making me whimper with anticipation.

He released one of my hands and let his own drift down my arm, my side, the

curve of my waist. When he got to the thin garter on my thigh, he groaned softly

into my kiss. Curling his fingertips against my skin, he encouraged me to hook my

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61

leg around his waist. I did, and he slid his hand over my hip and traced the strap up

my thigh.

“You wore a garter again,” he breathed. “Fuck…”

“You like it?”

“Damn right I do. But I like you even better with nothing on.” He unclipped

the garter straps and slowly pushed my stocking down my leg. When it was off, he

did the same to the other leg. I ran my bare foot up the back of his leg, the soft

fabric of his pants against my bare skin making me shiver.

I reached between us, and when I gently squeezed him through his slacks, he

groaned and broke the kiss, letting his head fall beside mine.

He shifted onto one arm, reaching between us with the other. I thought he"d

push my hand away, but instead, he unbuckled his belt. Then and only then did he

nudge my hand out of the way, but only long enough to unzip his slacks. We both

pushed them over his hips, and when they were far enough out of the way, he

guided my hand back to his hard cock.

“Feel what you do to me?” he murmured. “Fuck, I want you so bad, Jocelyn.”

“Oh, it"s mutual.”

“Is it, now?” He grinned and slid his hand between my thighs. “So your pussy

must be—” He paused when his fingers found what they sought. “Oh, God, baby,

you are so fucking wet.” He teased with only his fingertips, drawing moan after

moan of frustration out of me as he kept his magic fingers from sliding deep enough

to find my G-spot.

“Austin…you"re…”
Fuck me, damn it. Please.

His fingers moved to my clit, and there they drew slow, lazy circles that sent

sparks crackling up the length of my spine. He barely touched me, but it was

intense. Breathtaking. So good it hurt.

I bit my lip and closed my eyes, trying to will myself to speak over the

cacophony of pleasure-bordering-on-pain that bombarded my senses, to tell him how

much I loved what he did and how much I wanted him to fuck me, but words failed

me.

“All the way here,” he whispered, his lips barely leaving mine as his fingers

slowly slipped a little deeper into my pussy, “I was thinking about all the things I

wanted to do to you.” Deeper. “And now that we"re here…” Almost to the perfect

spot. “I don"t even know where to start.” His lips met mine in the same moment his

palm came to rest over my clit.

“Oh, God,” I whispered when he broke the kiss. “I… Please…”

“I could go down on you and make you come a few times,” he said. “Or I could

keep doing this until you beg me to fuck you.” He pressed harder with this hand,

destroying any chance I had of speaking. “But I can"t stop thinking,” he went on,

beckoning against my G-spot as he spoke, “about the fact that you"re so wet I could

fuck you
right now
.”

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Lauren Gallagher

“
Yes
.” One word burst out of me, the best I could do in my current state.

I opened my eyes, and we held each other"s gazes. He parted his lips as if he

was about to speak, paused as if he couldn"t find the words, and kissed me instead.

He slowly withdrew his fingers, and together, without breaking this long, delicious

kiss, we sat up.

“I think I still have too many clothes on,” he murmured against my lips.

“We should take care of that, then.” My heart pounded. Anticipation? Nerves?

Terrified of and dying for our first time that wasn"t really our first time?

Whatever the case, there was no turning back now, and with all the clumsy

grace of first-time lovers, we got out of the rest of our clothes. Before he dropped his

slacks off the side of the bed, he pulled a condom out of his pocket. When he reached

for the nightstand to set it aside, I grabbed his wrist.

“No.” I licked my lips. “Put it on. Now.”

A grin teased the corners of his mouth. “You don"t want me to—”

“Please, Austin.” My God, just the taste of his real name on my lips turned me

on beyond words.

He tore the wrapper with his teeth and, with hands that I"d never before seen

so unsteady, rolled on the condom. Then I was in his arms again. Had his kiss

always made me this light-headed? I didn"t know. I didn"t care, because it certainly

made me this light-headed
now.

Every bit of my attention was focused solely on the sexy, sensual way his

mouth moved with mine, but just beyond the edges of my awareness, I knew we

were moving. Shifting. Entangling. When he broke the kiss, he was over me, his

arms beneath my back and his hips settling between my parted thighs. I took a

breath, a shiver of anticipation rushing through me.

He bent to kiss me, our lips meeting for the briefest second only to part in a

simultaneous exhale when he slipped inside me. He moved slowly, and I rolled my

hips with him, our eyes locked on each other. The expression in his reflected the

overwhelmed feeling in me, and the breathtaking sensations surging through me

went above and beyond anything that was bought and paid for.

There was something unnerving about it, something thrilling but terrifying, as

if something changed between us with each stroke, with each brush of his fingertips

against my face. He closed his eyes and kissed me, and I was lost in him, lost in the

intimacy I hadn"t expected this evening.

He rested on his forearms, his fingertips caressing my face as mine combed

through his hair. Even as his hips moved faster, as he electrified every nerve inside

me, it was his kiss that held my full attention. My body ached for release, but I was

afraid to encourage him to move any faster, because he might break this kiss.

After an eternity—but not nearly long enough—he did just that, raising his

head and looking into my eyes. He touched my face, and he took a breath as if to

speak, but a shiver cut him off, so he just kissed me again. His hand slid around to

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63

the back of my neck, then up into my hair, cradling my head as he parted my lips

with his tongue.

As our kiss deepened, my arms tightened around him. Our bodies slowed, still

moving together but with every stroke losing what little speed we"d gained. Before

long, only our mouths moved. He was inside me, deep inside me, but we were both

still, just tasting and breathing each other. Every place we made contact—skin on

skin, lips on lips, even his breath whispering across my cheek whenever he exhaled

through his nose—was electrified, pulsing with intensity.

His lips never leaving mine, he withdrew slowly, then pushed back in. He

picked up speed again, but still he kissed me, and I held on tight, determined not to

lose contact with his incredible mouth. The soft movements of his lips and tongue

were punctuated by sharp rhythmic breaths that came in time with his quickening

strokes, but even the occasional gasp or moan only separated our lips for a

heartbeat.

I dug my fingernails into his back just enough for him to feel it. Then I raked

them down either side of his spine, shivering at the ragged breath that escaped his

throat.

“Baby, you feel so good,” he moaned, arching his back against my nails. “Fuck,

I…”

I rocked my hips back, pulling him deeper, meeting him thrust for deep,

violent thrust.

“Oh, my God,” he breathed. Through clenched teeth, he said, “You want it

harder, don"t you?” He didn"t wait for me respond. He pushed himself up and fucked

me
hard
. His arms and shoulders rippled beneath sweat-glazed skin with every

move he made, and the sight of his muscles and tattoos alone nearly sent me over