Hard and Fast (14 page)

“Why did you stop again?” she asked, disappointment in her voice.

“I’m taking your shoes off,” he said, going down on one knee, lifting her foot and doing just that. “Then I’m taking your pants off.”

“Right. Of course,” she said, obediently lifting her other foot so he could slip off her flat black shoes.

“How many times do you come, Emma Jean?” Ty asked, as he stood back up and moved his hands inside the back of her jeans and panties, cupping the smooth flesh of her tight little ass.

“What do you mean?” She leaned into him, her eyes half-closed.

“In one sex session, do you usually come once, twice, three times . . . five?”

Her forehead creased with her frown. “Usually just once. But it’s a good one. Why?”

“Just strategizing how soon I’m going to let you come.” He nipped her bottom lip. “It sounds like we’re going to have to draw it out.”

“We don’t
have
to,” she said. “It’s not like I don’t continue to enjoy myself post-coital, because I do. So don’t feel that you need to cease and desist once I have.”

“But the buildup is always better.” Ty shoved her jeans and panties down and lifted her leg so he could remove them, brushing his lips over her soft, ivory thigh. “Don’t worry. I’ll make sure you enjoy it.”

With her pants and panties half off and his mouth on her thigh, he was inches from her sex. He could feel the warmth of her inner thighs, he could smell the tang of her arousal. Ty turned his head and breathed in her scent deeply.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“Smelling you.”

“Why?” She sounded more curious than horrified, which would probably be the reaction of a lot of women.

“Because you smell good. Like a woman who is very turned on and that turns me on.”

“I am turned on.”

“I know.” Ty shifted a little closer and lavished his tongue on her clit, using his fingers to spread her so that he could have a clear view and taste of her swollen pink flesh.

“Oh, God,” she said, the words low and drawn out. “
Ty
.”

His name tearing off her lips like that made his own body clench and tighten and he jerked back. She gave a cry of disappointment, but he ignored it and made fast work of pulling her pants down her other leg and tossing them somewhere behind him. Ty stood up and with one hand slipped his finger inside her again to keep her hot and wet and eye-rolling eager, while he dug in his pocket with his free hand for a condom.

Holding the packet in his mouth, he undid his jeans and shoved them and his boxer briefs down one-handed. They got to about his knees and he figured they would fall on their own after that. Using his teeth, he opened the condom and managed to get it rolled on his erection all while still stroking inside Imogen. Pleased with his multitasking skills, Ty finished securing the condom then took Imogen’s hands, which had been fluttering around by his waist, and gripped them together. He raised her arms up over her head, wrists together, flat against the wall.

When she would have protested, he swallowed her words with a kiss, one that tasted of her arousal. He loved to kiss a woman after his mouth had been between her thighs. He loved to give her a taste of her own desire, loved the woman who took it, enjoyed it, appreciated it. Imogen clearly did, her tongue slipping into his mouth, kissing him feverishly and eagerly. Ty nudged her legs a little apart with his feet, stepping out of his jeans as he did, enjoying the feel of her hips arching to bump against his, her nipples taut and thrust forward for his attention.

“Go up on your toes, Emma Jean.”

He knew she wouldn’t protest, that she would do it. But she would ask why, and she did.

“Why?” she asked, even as she obeyed and raised herself up on her toes, providing him with a gorgeous view, her arms up, her breasts heaving with her rapid breathing, her hips and legs long and sensual.

“It makes the angle better.” Ty brought his erection between her legs and moved it slowly up and down over her folds. “Open yourself for me.”

“Are you really going to penetrate me while I’m standing against this wall?”

“Yes. For a minute or two.”

“I find that exciting.”

“Me, too. Now open yourself for me,” he demanded, rougher this time. He wanted inside her and it was sheer torture to feel her slickness over his head, lubricating the condom and teasing him with all the warmth she would provide.

“You don’t really have to, you know,” she said, eyes half-closed. “You just push it in and that usually works just fine. A rather clever design, actually, that it remains closed until in use, but no complicated system is required to—”

Imogen yelped when Ty bit her nipple.

“I want you,” he said carefully, “to take your right hand, slide it down between us, and open yourself for my cock. Now. Not because you have to, but I want to see your fingers on yourself, because I want to feel you pulling yourself apart for me to thrust into you and fuck you. Do you understand?”

She stared at him in shock, completely still except for the rise and fall of her chest. Ty knew he was being demanding and a little impatient, but he was aching to take her and he wanted her acquiescence, her very obvious acceptance of him into her body. And she liked it. He could tell. She was shocked, yes, but most of what he saw in her eyes was excitement. Lust.

Which made him harder than he would have ever thought possible. The thought of taking Imogen to a place where she no longer analyzed every action, where she just felt and did, made him ache with red-hot desire. He was going to do that, give that to her.

“My goodness, you’re bossy,” she said.

“And you didn’t answer the question. Do you understand?” Ty started to move his cock away from her.

She quickly nodded. “Yes, I understand.”

“Then do it.” He moved back into position.

Imogen sucked in a breath and tentatively moved her left hand down. She abruptly stopped herself and switched them. “Wait, you said right.”

Ty bit back a groan. He should have known she would follow him to the letter. “Yes. Good girl.”

Her fingers snaked down between their bodies and she closed her eyes as she found her hot, wet core. Ty watched her accidentally brush against her clit, then linger there for a second, rolling her thumb over the tight button before she redirected, sliding her first two fingers down over her folds, then opening them in a V. Opening herself for him.

Raising his right hand, Ty enclosed it over Imogen’s left hand still above her head against the wall. He gripped her for leverage and for the connection, gave her temple a soft kiss, then thrust himself into her. They both moaned, his loud and raw, hers tapering off into a whimper.

“Damn, you feel good,” he said, resting in place for a second, savoring the snugness of her enclosing him, the way their thighs were pressing together.

Her reply was another soft moan, followed by, “I feel really . . . full in this position.”

“Is that a good thing?” Ty pulled back slowly and thrust back into her, biting back a curse.

“Oh, yes,” she said, nodding, her hair puffing up above her head in a funny little cone that bobbed as she moved her head enthusiastically. “It’s incredibly good. Indescribable. De—”

She stopped speaking when he thrust into her again.

“—lightful,” she finished.

Ty would have laughed under any other circumstances, but nothing about burying himself in Imogen against his bedroom wall made him want to laugh. He picked up speed, found a rhythm that had her groans coming in regular staccato bursts, one for each time he drove deep, no matter how fast he set the pace. It was hot as freaking hell and Ty rested his head against his arm, closing his eyes as he squeezed her hand beneath hers and just moved inside her, taking in the sound of her pleasure, enjoying the feel of her slick, welcoming body.

He sensed again when she was treading too close to an orgasm. Her breathing changed, her head started to shift back and forth, and she went up higher on her toes, like she was trying to escape the intensity of his thrusts.

If Imogen said she usually came only once, Ty wasn’t going to argue with that, or think he could somehow manage to drag more than one from her. Not their first time together. He would learn how to make her come repeatedly with knowledge of her body and her likes and dislikes, and that would take familiarity. He would act on the assumption she was only going to have one orgasm tonight, and if that was the case, he damn well wanted to have done everything he could to her before it happened.

He wanted her desperate, clinging, screaming, insensible, incoherent with pleasure, groaning and squirming and so turned on that she would agree to anything and would be hard-pressed to remember her own goddamn name.

Then, and only then, would he let her have the biggest, hottest, loudest orgasm of her entire life, where she scratched and clawed and begged and lost every thought she’d ever had from her logical little brain.

So Ty pulled completely out of her and stepped back, panting as she dropped onto the balls of her feet and stared at him in shock and disappointment. He was holding her hand against the wall, but she still sagged down a little.

“Why did you stop?” she asked, dropping her eyes to his erection. “You didn’t come. Did you?”

“No. No one is coming yet. I’m just getting started with you.”

 

 

THE man was trying to kill her.

There was no other explanation for taking her to the edge like that—twice, Imogen might add—and then just
stopping
. But she had no ability to protest, because it was clear from his words and the look on his face that he was dead serious. He was not finished with her, and she suspected she was going to get a lesson in drawing out pleasure as long as humanly possible.

He had already excited her more in half an hour than other men had in six months, so she just slumped against the wall and waited for him to take his next course of action. For a fleeting second, she thought she should contribute something, maybe suggest a position or two, but she dropped the thought immediately. He had a plan, or at least liked taking control, and she was perfectly content to be on the receiving end.

Maybe next time she could be more aggressive.

Of course, if there was a next time. There were no guarantees.

All the more reason to just enjoy the attention he was lavishing on her.

Ty squatted down in front of her. She shivered in anticipation, knowing precisely what that meant. He was going to do those amazing things to her with his tongue.

“Keep your hands above your head, but reach over and grab the doorframe,” he told her. “You’re going to need the leverage.”

Hello. Leverage for what? She did as he instructed, amazed at how easily he could get her excited, how a shiver of delight rippled through her body when he moved in front of her.

“Look at that,” he said. “You are so fucking wet it’s on your thighs. That is so sexy.”

Then he raked his finger across that moisture, raised his finger to his mouth, and sucked, his eyes trained on her. Imogen felt an answering kick of desire deep in her womb, her vagina still tender and aching from his thrusts. She actually ached everywhere, was aware of every single inch of her entire body, her skin sensitive, every muscle, every nerve ending tight and poised for pleasure.

“I like that you get nice and wet,” he said. “It’s very satisfying to see it, to feel it, to taste it. It means you want me.”

“I do want you.”

“Slide down the wall,” he said. “Still holding the doorframe. Just slide down, nice and sexy, and spread your knees apart while you do.”

She realized then part of the appeal of Ty’s directives. Imogen had never felt particularly sexy, had never known how to use her body to visual advantage, had never felt comfortable posing and displaying herself. Ty was teaching her, probably without even realizing it, how to do just that. How to take advantage of both the tactile and the visual appeal of her feminine shape and intimate places to drive a man deeper into desire.

So she followed his instructions and bent her legs so that her bare bottom and back slid down the cool wall, holding on to the door for balance. When she was down about halfway, she took a deep breath and opened her knees, exposing herself fully to his view, watching to see his reaction.

It was a good one.

His eyes darkened and he rubbed his bottom lip with his thumb as he drank her in, not looking at her face, but between her legs. He put his hands lightly on her knees and gazed up at her with a look so intense, so hot, that she sucked in her breath.

“I hope you’re flexible.”

Wondering what he had in mind for her, fairly certain she would like it, Imogen still had to admit, “Probably not.”

“We’ll work it out.” Ty lifted one of her legs. “Hold on.” He placed it over his shoulder so that her knee hooked him.

The shift shot her butt up in the air and threw off her balance. “I’m going to fall,” she said, grappling at the doorframe.

“No, you’re not. I’m too close to the wall for you to fall. Stop wiggling and relax.”

“I’m not . . . ahhh.” Imogen forgot what she had been about to say when he bent forward and deftly inserted his tongue inside her. “Oh, my God.”

He moved in and out, quick, swordlike thrusts that had her making sounds she hadn’t even known she was capable of. The soft moistness of his tongue, coupled with its width, tripped off shudders of ecstasy with each stroke. She could feel him so acutely inside her, his nose bumping against her clitoris.

Ty lifted her other leg up, so they were both on his shoulders. His hands were on the small of her back, and somehow between the wall and his grip, she didn’t seem to be in any danger of slipping down and smacking her head on the floor. Not that she really cared, because it was the hottest, most erotic position she had ever been in. It was kind of like riding on someone’s shoulders in reverse. The only way she could be more fully enveloping his face would be if she were sitting on it, and that would not have the added bonus of knowing it was his strength holding her up. Imogen turned her head side to side, held on, and let him do the most delicious things to her with his mouth while she regressed to a time before language, expressing her pleasure through whimpers and guttural groans.