Going All the Way (Knights of Passion Book 1) (17 page)

He slammed the door and rolled her suitcase to the living room. “Night.”

“Wait.”

His shoulders slumped and he turned around, strain evident on his face. “What?”

She stood, then closed the short distance between them. She placed a hand on his forearm. His muscles flinched and tensed under the small caress. “Thank you.”

“Shit.” He grabbed her arms and hauled her close, his lips swooping down and crushing hers in a punishing kiss.

She curved her hands around his back, tracing his muscles, and clutching him closer, clinging to him for support and to stay upright. Sexual heat flared anew, driving all rational thought from her brain, leaving her awash in sensations buffeting her from all sides. He slipped his tongue past her lips, a driving force igniting her senses, and her knees sagged. He cupped her bottom, pulling her closer where she had no doubt of his intentions. His brain may have been saying no, but his body ruled now and it was screaming yes. He pushed her against the wall and speared his hands into her hair, tilting her head for a deeper kiss. He stroked down her body and tugged her blouse out of her skirt. Within moments, her skirt fell to the floor. Cool air caressed her legs. She shivered slightly, clad only in thigh high garters, lace panties, her blouse and heels. He leaned back and his hot gaze traveled down her.

“Like the view?” She forced the words out of her tight throat, licking her dry lips, trying to regain control of the situation.

He laughed and bent down for another kiss. Stacia tugged his shirt out of his jeans and stroked the hot skin, tracing the taut muscles of his torso. She slid her hands under the waistband and paused, breaking the kiss to stare up into his whiskey-colored eyes.

“Forget something?”

His mouth quirked in a crooked smile. “Nope. Find something you like?”

“Oh yeah. Off.”

He glanced around the room and jerked his head toward the big picture window in the living room, the curtains wide open for anyone to see in. “Not here.” He grabbed her hand and tugged her upstairs.

So much for sleeping on the couch. Her back would be grateful tomorrow, as would the rest of her, if the past few nights were any indication. They stumbled up the stairs in silence, the sexual tension thick in the air, anticipation singing in her veins. The only light in the darkness came from the room to the immediate left of the stairs. The moon shone through a skylight directly onto the bed, lending a mystical and ethereal quality to the room. She paused in the doorway, mouth open. He stopped and looked back.

“That’s gorgeous!”

“Yes.” His gaze was only on her. “C’mere.” She started to kick the shoes off, but he stopped her. “Leave them.”

He fell on the bed and tugged her so she fell on top of him, her legs straddling his hips, his length riding high and hard between them. She settled against his knees and unbuttoned her blouse, one small button at a time, her gaze intent on him. His eyes darkened and he reached for her. She shifted out of reach and pulled her blouse together.

“No, my turn.” She had to do this, had to regain some control before she lost herself in him again. Besides, he had his turn. She wanted to play now.

He frowned but settled his hands back on the bed.

“On second thought.” She leaned forward, the edges of her blouse teasing his chest and face. She grasped his hands and tugged them up to the headboard. “Your turn to stay still.”

He glowered at her but gripped the headboard railing as directed. She slid down slowly trailing the shirt and fingertips down his chest until she was sitting back against his knees. “Where to begin?”

“You’re enjoying this too much.” His voice was hoarse and deep, showing her how she had affected him.

She laughed, a low throaty sound that thrilled her. Finally, she sounded like a sex siren. The power was intoxicating, having a virile, sexy man in her thrall. “I haven’t even begun to enjoy this yet. Hang on, Friar. It’s going to be a long night.” She quickly unbuttoned the rest of her blouse and tossed it out of the way, revealing a white lace bra. “Now you.”

She ran her hands from the waistband of the jeans up his shirt, then she started unbuttoning, caressing each bit of skin and pressing hot kisses to every exposed piece of flesh as she uncovered it, adding the occasional swirl of tongue to taste the hint of man beneath. She brushed the fabric to the side, stroking his nipples as she did so. He jumped. She lifted her hands immediately and cocked her head. He shuddered but settled.

“Very good,” she purred. “You deserve a reward.” She leaned forward and sucked hard on his nipple, then nipped and licked it. Jason’s back bowed and he thrashed his head, but his hands never left the headboard. “For all your little games, Jason, I think you like someone else in control.”

Drugged with power, she kept him pinned, and lashed his nipple again, alternating nips with soothing lashes. Her limbs were heavy and her core throbbed with arousal at every groan he made. She clenched her legs, rubbing against his thigh, moaning at the spike of electricity.

Without opening his eyes, and through gritted teeth, he growled, “Get on with it or I’ll show you control.”

She laughed then resumed tonguing and licking his taut nipple, alternating licks and little nips back and forth. With every touch he trembled beneath her but valiantly tried to remain still. His skin burned, fire melting beneath her fingers as she trailed them down his six-pack stomach to the waistband of his jeans.

His legs fell back on the bed and she slid down, her legs trapping his in place, her lips trailing the same path her fingers had just taken. Her fingers trembled and she fumbled with the button of his jeans, brushing his cock ever so slightly, making him jump and growl at every swipe. Finally, she undid the button and fly and tugged the jeans over his slim hips, freeing his hard length. She slipped off the bed to move the jeans out of the way, and paused to admire the long lean legs shaped by years of baseball and fitness routines. She soaked in the sight of him, wondering how the hell she had gotten so lucky to snag him in her bed.

He groaned and glared at her.

“You have something to say?”

“Condoms. Drawer. Now.” He growled, words bitten out from clenched jaws.

She opened the bedside table drawer and pulled out a full box of condoms, and noted the plastic still surrounding the package. She glanced over at him, forced to reconsider her initial thoughts that he had expected sex. “I guess you were telling the truth, that you haven’t had any company here.”

“I haven’t been here much.”

“Wouldn’t have mattered to the old Jason Friar.” Could it be? Was he turning over a new leaf? What did it mean for them?

“Do you believe everything you hear?”

She glanced at his hard length surging up toward his abdomen. “Now that you mention it…” She ripped the plastic and tossed it on the floor. She grabbed a foil packet and placed it on the table. “Not yet. I have more playing to do.”

He groaned and closed his eyes while throwing his head against the pillow. Smothering a grin, Stacia climbed back on the bed, trapping his legs between hers. She trailed her fingers up his erection, then wrapped them around his length. She hadn’t had much opportunity to play in bed, and explore Jason as she would like. His erection was silky and smooth, the plum shaped head dark and pulsing. With her thumb, she swirled the drop of pre-cum around the tip. Her sex clenched, begging to be filled but she resisted. Just one taste. One lick. Licking her lips, she bent down for a taste and lashed the tip with her tongue, the salty taste a surprise to her. He jerked beneath her, and burrowed his hands into her hair to hold her in place. The scent of musk and Jason surrounded her and she took him fully in her mouth, as deep as she could and swirled her tongue around as she went up his shaft. He shouted and his hips bucked, almost dislodging her. She gripped his thighs and sucked him deep and moved slowly up and down, her tongue trailing up the underside, tickling a spot that made him jump. Withdrawing almost completely out, she nibbled and licked the head like an ice cream cone.

Every time he jumped, or moved or groaned, she felt a throb deep between her legs, her panties soaked through. A sense of power and excitement coursed through her, thrilled at her ability to excite this man so fully, to provoke him to wordless arousal. She bore down on his leg to relieve the ache, rubbing her sex against his knee, trying to hit the sweet spot. He obliged by lifting his limb slightly, pushing hers apart even more. She moaned, needing to be filled but not wanting to end her exploration. She slipped her fingers into her panties to relieve the ache, but then his hands were there and the lingerie gave way with a rip.

“You’re hell on panties, you know?”

“I’ll buy you more.” He shifted positions so fast and sheathed himself in the condom before she could react.

She yelped at the sudden change in position, disappointment at the end to her play. “I never said you could move.”

His hand tunneled into her slick folds, his fingers spearing her pussy, spreading the wetness up to her clit. He rubbed circles around the small button and she writhed under him, words and thoughts forgotten in the moment. Moments later, his fingers were replaced by his hard shaft. He surged inside in one smooth motion. She let out a low scream as she was filled completely, her back bowing. Relief was short-lived and he began to move slowly at first, then faster, his body covering hers, hips pistoning, long and hard, then shallow and quick. She wrapped her legs around his hips, heels digging into his buttocks, and she pulled him closer, the orgasm teased out of reach. He slid one hand between them and pinched her clit. She came in a long scream, her back arching, almost throwing him.

He grabbed her waist and rolled onto his back, taking her with him. He guided her hips on him and she caught his rhythm, moving up and down, while he lunged up for her. His thumbs trailed between them, where his cock entered her, tracing the connection, then up through her labia to her clit, tweaking it quickly then moving away. The sensation was almost too much to take and she jerked, feeling on the edge of ecstasy, channel clenching around him every time he moved.

He grasped her waist and flipped her again, bringing her legs up high to her chest, going much deeper inside her than ever before. She lay there opened to him, clinging to him for support. The control she had gained earlier in the lovemaking, now completely out of reach. She was completely at his mercy for her orgasm and demanded it in loud cries, grasping his hips and pulling him closer, desperately rubbing against him. Her climax danced out of reach, teasing her, taunting her. She opened her eyes. Jason’s fierce gaze, laser-focused on her, demanding she hold the gaze, connect with him on a deeper level than sex.

She couldn’t break the spell, didn’t want to. His teeth clenched and he lunged in and out, harder, faster, deeper. This time, when she came with a wail, he followed her over the edge with a roar of satisfaction.

He collapsed on top of her, her legs caging him. After a few moments of heavy breathing, he rolled to the side and pulled her with him. They lay there for long moments, panting and quivering in the aftermath.

She snuggled closer. “Still want me to sleep on the couch?”

S
unlight streamed into
the room, rudely awakening Stacia. She opened one eye and peered balefully at the skylight, which last night had seemed so romantic and beautiful when the moonlight had streamed in. Now, with the sun up and only a couple of hours of sleep under her belt, she had to rethink the design element. A heavy weight pinned her to the mattress. Jason’s arm. She nudged him, but he only groaned and pulled her closer. She pushed him harder.

“What the hell time is it?” He glared at her out of one squinty eye. “If you’re a morning person, get the hell out of my bed. I’m tired.” He promptly rolled over and started snoring again. Probably faking it so she would leave.

She slid out of the bed and grabbed his shirt from last night, tossed on the floor, a victim of their passion. It would do for a bathrobe.

What were the odds he had coffee in this place? Probably low, but a girl could hope. She closed the bedroom door and went downstairs in search of her morning heaven. A few minutes later, she had the coffee maker percolating, filling the small kitchen with the aroma of a hearty breakfast blend. No wimpy flavored coffee for Jason.

She sucked in a deep breath. No cream or sugar in the house, but at least there was coffee. She always had an emergency stash of creamers and sugar in her bag. She stirred both into the java, and sucked in the sharp scent of Sumatran blend. It was good. No cheap stuff for Jason.

She sighed and leaned against the counter, savoring the quiet and the beverage. She was just drifting to her happy place when the doorbell rang. She jerked and coffee spilled over her hand. “Damn it.” She wiped her hand on the dishcloth and walked down the hall. She opened the door and an older woman dressed in a magenta velour track suit turned.

“So, you must be the new chippie who’s sunk her claws into my boy. Well, you’re certainly not his usual type.” And she brushed by Stacia, rolling her suitcase over Stacia’s bare foot, causing her yelp.

Uh, her boy? Holy crap, Jason’s mother? Stacia tugged the shirt lower, trying to cover more of her legs and followed the woman into the living room, almost running into her, spilling her coffee again.

The woman glanced at the cup. “You have coffee? Good. It’s been a long flight and it’s way too early.”

“You could have stopped at a coffee shop,” Stacia muttered under her breath and followed the older woman into the kitchen. “So, you’re Jason’s mother?”

Probably a good idea to ascertain who this woman was before assuming, especially since she didn’t fit the image she had of his mother, not that she had been thinking of his mother at all. I mean, who thinks of their boyfriend’s mother? And was he a boyfriend, a client, or what? Too heavy questions after way too late a night. But she had a feeling that she’d better figure it out quick.

Shit, too complicated a discussion for this early in the morning. She returned her attention to the older woman. A magenta track suit, cheap tennis shoes, very heavy hand with the makeup and did they still make blue eye shadow in that shade of electric? Maybe only in Jersey, where Jason was from, according to his bio, and where his mother still lived.