Forbidden Fruit (15 page)

“I’m right here.”

She knew what he meant. But it was hard to wait even a moment while he stood and picked up the glass jar of what she realized was caramellsyrup. He held it over her, watching her, his beautifullface intent. And then he drizzled the warm syrup onto her breasts.

She gasped as it hit her skin, slid over the curve of flesh, dripped down onto her nipples. It was almost too hot, the scent of sugar strong in the air. She gasped again when he bent to lick it off. His tongue swept over her in long strokes as he gathered her breasts in both hands, slippery with the syrup. She’d never felt anything so good in her life.

Her breasts ached, her nipples so hard they hurt.

And then he took one into his mouth. And once more she immediately thought she might come just from that wet sucking. He paused, moved his mouth to the other side, sucked on her rigid flesh again, untillshe was squirming, pleasure washing over her in heated waves untillshe didn’t think she could stand it anymore.

Her hands went into his hair. And she was shaking harder than ever, trying not to come so soon.

“Yeah, that’s it, baby. Let’s slow down a minute.” He pulled back, stared at her. “You are so beautiful, baby girl, do you know that? I can’t look at you and not touch you. Kiss you.”

He leaned in and pressed his mouth to hers, his fullof caramellthe color of his skin. He pulled back, a fraction of an inch, and whispered, “You make me crazy, Mia Rose.”

Then he was stripping his jeans off, and his boots, untillhe was as naked as she was. He picked up the plastic bottle of chocolate syrup this time and squeezed it over her breasts, over his own chest. He pressed against her, pushing her back into the counter. And he was all slippery sweetness, the hard planes of his chest up against her breasts, the chocolate making an unbelievable texture between their bodies, the taste of the warm caramelllingering on her tongue.

He squeezed more of the stuff into his hands and began to rub it all over her: her sides, her hips, her buttocks. She was absolutely overwhelmed by sensation, shaking so hard she could barely stand.

“Jagger…”

“Hmmm, what is it, baby?”

“I never…” She was panting, her breath tight in her throat. “I never knew it would be this good.”

He smiled down at her, their eyes meeting, and something passed between them, some sort of understanding that ran deeper than any connection she’d felt with anyone before.

And still, lust raged in her body. She was as ready to come as ever.

Jagger bent his head, ran his tongue over her breasts, down between them, while she shivered and moaned. Then he moved lower, kissing her stomach, then lower still, his slippery hands parting her thighs, the lips of her sex. And he went in with his mouth, kissing the swollen folds softly, driving her crazy, pleasure moving through her like fire. Burning hot, engulfing her.

When he sucked her clitoris into his mouth she couldn’t hold back. She fell over that edge, fell apart.

She cried out, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

“Jagger! God, God, God…”

It wouldn’t stop: his sucking mouth on her, the chocolate melting all over her skin. She was coming and coming, so damn hard.

And then she was falling into his arms. He caught her, lifted her up. Her body still shook with the last trembling waves of orgasm.

He carried her into the big bathroom, set her on her feet, and steadied her as he reached in and turned on the shower. He pulled a white T-shirt from a hook on the back of the door.

“Mia Rose, will you put this on for me?”

“I’ll do whatever you want.”

Was that her own voice, so weak, so shaky? Hell, she felt shaky. Small tremors still ran through her sex, her entire body.

He smiled, flipped the T-shirt over the shower door.

She didn’t understand. She could not get her brain to work. Then he pulled her into the shower, and they stood together under the water. He took the hand sprayer and wet her all over, washing the chocolate and the caramellfrom her skin. Then he grabbed the shirt and slipped it over her head. She caught his scent in the shirt before he sprayed it down, untillthe white cotton clung to her body.

“Oh, yeah, baby, that’s it. That’s what I love. Jesus.”

Jagger ran his hands over her, loving every curve beneath the soaking wet fabric. Even better that it was his own T-shirt on her. His cock was full to bursting, so damn hard. Some kind of fantastic torture that he wasn’t inside her yet.

She was unbelievable, the way her body looked, the fabric plastered over her breasts, her nipples hard and red through the water-sheered cotton. He squeezed her breasts, pinched at her nipples. Then he pulled her hard up against him, rubbing his body against hers.

“You feellso damn good, Mia Rose.”

She was so warm, yielding to whatever he wanted to do, like some kind of wild doll. Yet she was all flesh, hot, human flesh.

He reached down and guided his cock between her thighs, slid in between them.

“Ah, Jagger. Yes…”

She spread her legs for him, wrapped one around his waist.

He found her opening, buried his cock in her, running his hands over her skin, the sight and the feellof the wet cotton working like a conduit, driving pleasure deeper into his body.

He was going to take it slow, enjoy the moment. But she felt too good, so hot and tight inside. He lifted her, untillboth of her legs were wrapped around his waist. And he pushed into her, deeper, deeper.

Faster. Harder. The water fell all around them, slid over his skin, over hers, over the wet, white cotton that seemed almost to have become a part of her flesh.

“Jagger, harder. I need it tonight. Please.”

“Anything, baby.”

He backed her up against the wall, really slamming into her. Every thrust sent a jolt of pleasure deep into his belly. Like electricity. Like a shock.

She was moaning, writhing. Wet. Pleasure built, made him shiver. And just as her hot little pussy clenched around his cock, he was coming, yelling her name, gripping her naked ass in his hands. He couldn’t stop fucking her.

Making love to her.

“Mia Rose…baby, baby.”

He fell against the tiled wall with her in his arms, his still-hard cock inside her. And together they slid to the floor of the shower. The water fell, warm and soothing, over their bodies. Her head fell onto his chest. He pulled her in closer, held on tight. His breath was coming in ragged pants. And she felt so damn good in his arms.

How could he ever let this woman go?

Too much to think about. Too much to feel. But there was no running from it anymore.

He was in love with her. He was in love with Mia Rose Curry.

MIA OPENED HER EYES, HER BODY COMING

OUT OF A RESTLESS sleep. It was very late Sunday night, or early Monday, really. And she could barely stand the idea of having to leave him in the morning.

She lay in the comfort of Jagger’s big bed, the scent of him, of them both, all over the sheets. He used white sheets on his bed, just as she did. She loved the clean feellof them. White sheets had always felt clean to her. She’d almost begun to take for granted that they had so many small, insignificant details in common.

They’d spent the weekend in bed. Or rather, in the kitchen, the shower, on Jagger’s living room floor.

They went by Mia’s house at one point to collect a change of clothes, which she’d barely used.

Then back to his place, where they spent hours playing with food, different textures, tastes, sensations. He fed her crêpes expertly cooked at midnight, pasta with fresh pesto, some of the spiciest hot wings she’d ever tasted with a tangy barbecue sauce he made himself, then rubbed allover her in the big shower. He covered her skin in the chocolate again, because it was simply too good not to: the flavor, the feellof it. And that led to chocolate pudding, which Mia really loved, cold from the refrigerator, adding another dimension to their sensuallexploration.

Jagger put her in the shower at least once a day, in one of his crisp cotton, button-up shirts, in his blue-and-white-striped pajama bottoms, in his T-shirts.

And he put her into his big slate bathtub in her silk camisole and tap pants.

She adored it when he did these things, loved to see what it did for him, did
to
him. Loved to see how his face just fell apart, seeing the wet fabric plastered to her skin, how he lost all control.

And after, he was so gentle with her. So caring.

She’d been trying hard not to think about it, about how that fed a part of her she hadn’t even known was there untillnow.

The apartment was dark, but there was always the comforting glow of streetlights, the hint of color from neon signs, seeping through the windows from the street below.

She loved it there, she realized. Just over this weekend, she’d developed a sort of easy comfort being in his apartment.

She felt at home.

It was because of Jagger. Turning her head, she listened to his soft, shallow breath as he slept. He lay on his stomach, as he often did, one arm thrown over her body. She could make out his dark silhouette, that lovely curve of lean muscle. His skin was warm, fragrant.

She could lie there and watch him forever. Except that a part of her wanted him to wake up. To be with her before the alarm went off and they both had to start their day, their week. The rest of their lives.

What did that all mean, anyway?

Her chest tightened. She slid her hand over his arm, needing to touch him.

She’d been trying so hard all weekend not to analyze what was happening between them. What was happening to her. There was a sort of softening going on inside her. A letting go. It had seemed so easy. Untillshe thought of being outside of this time and place, the safe cocoon of his apartment, of the weekend, where the reallworld didn’t intrude.

But outside was the reallworld. And in that world, their relationship was forbidden. In that world, she was not the kind of woman who was willing to risk falling for a man only to lose him in some terrible way. Not ever again.

Her hand tightened on his arm and he shifted, resettled.

She bit down hard on her lip, the pain distracting her from the tears gathering in her eyes.

She would not do this. She knew all too well what could happen when she let herself love someone.

And she was not willing to go through that again. It was too hard.

But being with him was so easy.

God damn it!

Her fingers flexed once more, and this time Jagger muttered, shifted again, pulling her into his arms.

And the tears came, unbidden. Hot, resentfulltears.

She did not want to feellthis!

Grinding her jaw, she swallowed the sobs that wanted to come pouring from her body. What the hellwas wrong with her?

But she couldn’t stop it. The tears slid over her cheeks, burning a traillof old pain, the anticipation of new pain. And soon she could barely breathe, her throat tying itself into a hard knot from holding the flood of emotion inside.

Finally, a sob slipped out. Nothing she could do about it.

Damn it!

“Mia Rose? Baby, what is it?”

His voice was thick with sleep. So concerned. She couldn’t stand it. She tried to sit up, to get away, but he only held her tighter.

“Baby, shh. Tell me what’s wrong.”

She shook her head in the dark. Croaked out, “No.”

He let her cry it out then. Just held her in a way no one ever had, except twice in her life. Her grandmother had held her the morning after her mother had left her. And again the day Ben had died.

She hadn’t allowed anyone to do that for her since.

“Jagger,” she finally gasped. “I don’t…I don’t need this. From anyone.”

But she was shaking in his arms even as she said it.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said, his voice soft.

“I’m not. I’m not!”

“Tell me what’s going on with you, baby girl.”

“Oh, God, don’t call me that now. Please.”

“I thought you liked it.”

“I do.” She sobbed harder.

“Okay, okay.” He smoothed her hair, wiped her cheek with his thumb.

“I don’t want to do this with you, Jagger.”

“Who else are you going to do it with?”

Her throat was really going to close up. “I don’t have anyone else.”

“I’m sorry, Mia Rose. And it’s not pity. I’m just sorry, okay?”

“Okay.” The heat of his body was almost too much, but she couldn’t pull away. She nodded her head, as though reassuring herself. Of what, she wasn’t certain. Her head was spinning with emotion.

“Okay.”

They lay together for a while, untillher tears calmed, untillshe was able to take in air without her breath hitching. After a while Jagger asked her, “Tell me what’s going on.”

“I…it’s not you. I mean, being with you has…made me remember things I need to forget.”

“What do you need to forget, baby?”

She had to stop, her throat constricting once more.

She pulled in a deep breath, fought down a wave of panic.

Just say it.

“I need to forget what it feels like to…to care for someone. To care for someone and lose them.

Being with you these last weeks has made me…it’s brought it all up for me again. I thought I’d dealt with it. I thought I had my life all planned out. And that plan didn’t include…you.”

“I’m not understanding this, Mia Rose.”

“I’m sorry. I know I’m not making much sense.” She paused, drew in another deep breath, said very quietly, “I loved someone once. His name was Ben.

He was…he was so good to me. So carefullof me, in a way no one but my grandmother had ever been.

More than I’d ever been led to think I could expect from anyone.”

“He sounds like a good person.”

“He was.” She could picture him now, his curly brown hair, his blue eyes, his tall, lanky frame. He’d had big hands, long, gracefullfingers, like Jagger. “He’s the reason why I…he was the one who got me into the food thing. God, I don’t want to say it like that. It cheapens it, somehow. But it wasn’t like that. It was all beautifullwith him, you know?”

Jagger stroked her face. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“I got out of high schoollearly. I wasn’t into it. After living practically on the streets with my mom, I couldn’t relate to those kids. So I took the state proficiency exam at sixteen and started college that same year. That’s where I met Ben. He was eighteen. My first reallboyfriend. He was the kindest person I’d ever known. We dated for a long time before he’d do more than kiss me. I was too young, he kept saying. I guess I was. But he wouldn’t sleep with me. No matter how badly I wanted to. He wouldn’t do it. But we…God, I don’t know if you want to hear this stuff.”

“I want to hear whatever you want to tell me.

Whatever you need to get out of your system.

Because I think you’ve left some pretty heavy shit locked up for a long time.”

“Okay. Okay.” She paused, curled her hand around his wrist and held on, needing that point of contact to ground her. “Ben was…he was creative at finding ways to please me without ever crossing that one line. One night he pulled out a can of whipped cream. That instant stuff you spray on. And he covered me in it. Just my breasts. And he…he licked it off my skin…God, just the way you do sometimes, Jagger. And I had my first orgasm that night. Do you understand? That one night completely sexualized food for me. And I’ve spent years studying fetishes, trying to figure it all out. Because I never got to explore it more with him. And I’ve never gone there with anyone else. Untillnow.”

“What happened? You broke up?”

She started to tremble all over; the only thing grounding her was her head on Jagger’s chest, that sensation of strong muscle, holding her together.

“No. He…a few days later he was in an accident. He had a motorcycle. I was always reminding him to wear his helmet, but he hated the thing. Said it took away the sense of freedom that made him love his bike. So…he had an accident.” She had to stop for a moment, to pull in a breath. She couldn’t stop shaking. “And he…he died, Jagger.”

She could see in her head her grandmother standing in the doorway of her bedroom, that look on her face.

She’d known there was bad news, had sensed disaster. She’d begged her grandmother not to tellher. But of course she had. Her chest tightened, but with Jagger’s arms around her, she was still able to breathe somehow.

“Jesus, Mia Rose. I’m so sorry, baby. So sorry for everything you’ve been through.”

“The worst part of it is that it was his own fault. If only he’d worn the damn helmet. If only he’d made the right decision that day. But he didn’t.”

“The worst part of it is that you’ve lived with the loss all these years,” Jagger said quietly.

“Yes. Maybe.”

A bus rumbled by on the street below, drawing her eyes to the tall bank of windows. Outside, the moon cast silver across the cloudy sky. And she had that frightening sense she’d had so many times before in her life of how small she was in the universe, how insignificant. Yet, for the first time, she felt safe. Safe with Jagger: in his home, in his arms.

“I’ve had this weird life, Jagger. I know that. I’m very well aware of how it’s damaged me. But untillnow, I’ve simply accepted that about myself. I’ve had to. I grew up with a drug addict for a mother. Spent years living in our car. Went hungry more times than I really want to remember. And then she abandoned me. My father abandoned me before I was even born. I understand how that screwed me up. So why do I feellthe need to dig deeper suddenly? And I’m telling you, I do not want to do it. But I feellcompelled. And it’s because of you, I think.

“I’ve just realized that the main reason I haven’t explored that side of myself that has to do with food and sex, that part of me which originated with Ben, is because somehow in my mind I’ve connected my desires with loss. That’s why it’s been too frightening for me to even approach it. But you’ve made it okay.

Not just okay to try it, but to think about it. To question my motives. Because of how you make me feel. And I don’t want to feellthis way. I don’t want to do this.”

“Just stop fighting it, Mia Rose.”

“I’m trying. I really am.”

His arms tightened around her. “I can’t ask for any more than that. Can I? I would if I could.”

They were quiet for a long time, their breathing falling into sync. Eventually her body relaxed, went loose. She wove her legs through Jagger’s, needing to feellthe solid weight of him.

She felt self-indulgent, simply taking from him what she wanted, what she needed. It seemed wrong, somehow. And a little scary. Because whatever he gave to her could so easily be taken away.

But she didn’t want to think about consequences anymore tonight. She’d done enough of that her entire life. Tonight, she wanted to simply be with him, soak up whatever comfort he offered. And pretend she didn’t realize what that meant to her.

Karalee sat in Gideon’s car, hyperaware of her bare legs against the coollleather seat, of her naked sex beneath her woollskirt. She had left her panties at home, which was exactly the way he liked her. She was just as aware of Gideon beside her, of his strong hands on the wheellas they pulled out of the parking lot of the Cliff House. The old restaurant had been a part of San Francisco history since the late nineteenth century. They’d had a wonderfulldinner there at a window table overlooking the dark, crashing Pacific, followed by drinks while he brought her to a bone-melting climax using the coollbowllof a soup spoon under the table.

Gideon turned onto the Great Highway and followed the curving road, drove up Point Lobos Avenue, away from the ocean. She had no idea where they were going. It didn’t matter. He often liked to go for a drive, pulling over so he could fuck her in his car, or on it.

“Karalee.”

“Yes?”

A shiver of anticipation at hearing her name on his lips, his voice deep, sexy.

“Suck me.”

She smiled, leaned over, and undid his dark slacks, pulled his gorgeous cock out. He was half hard already, and she’d barely touched him. She bent over, inhaled the musky scent of him, flicked her tongue at the swelling head.

“No teasing. Just suck it. Hard.”

“Yes, sir.”

He grabbed the back of her hair, digging his fingers into her scalp. “Just do it.”

She swallowed him, the length of his flesh hardening even as it slipped between her lips. She loved the taste of him, loved the way he filled her, whether it was her mouth, her sex, her ass.

She pulled him in deeper, untillhis cock hit the back of her throat. She took in a deep breath through her nose, silently commanded her throat to open up, then she really went to work on him. Moving her head, she slid her mouth up and down his shaft, squeezing the base of it with her fingers, using them along with her lips, her tongue, to vary the texture.