Inside Bet: Vegas Top Guns, Book 2 (8 page)

That was oddly reassuring. She wouldn’t have been able to trust him had he indulged to excess. Drunken fucks hadn’t been her style for years. A notice that her pending enrollment at Penn State was threatened by high school discipline problems, as well as a sexual near-miss during one particularly risky weekend, had put the fear of God in her.

Now if she couldn’t wrestle at least half the power back from any relationship, she didn’t want it. No more waking up on the floor of a room she didn’t recognize, and no more shying away from what she desired—at work or with men. That explained why she’d been so choosy with her lovers. The potential for pleasure simply hadn’t been worth the consequences to the sense of self she gripped like a tether.

Jon was different. Everything about him screamed
limited time only
. He was fast becoming a special treasure to stuff into her box of memories—decadent memories worth savoring.

He was watching her quietly, probing again.

Her stomach unsettled, she pushed away the remaining few scraps of her salad. Upon swallowing the last of her wine, she made herself a vow. When she looked toward the future with Jon, even to the next morning, she would imagine a wall of red brick. Slamming expectations against such a wall would hurt like hell. Best not to have any.

She pushed away from the table and walked to the fridge, retrieving her hard-fought piece of cheesecake. Jon’s gaze followed as she made herself comfortable on the couch. His dark eyes were mysterious in the soft lamplight, as if pupil and iris were one and the same. That brandy color was only for daylight and bright places, not their private retreat.

“I don’t care if you are all silverware and cloth napkins, rich boy,” she said, flipping open the takeaway lid. “I’m not eating my dessert at the table.”

“Are you going to share?”

“If you’re good.”

He rose from the table, a grin crawling across his lips. The times she’d seen him laugh spontaneously could be counted on only a finger or two. She hoped he found things amusing on the inside, at least, even if he tramped down the reflex. It would be a sad life indeed to live at the expense of real humor, always calculating the worth of putting it on display.

She knew that for a fact.

“Ms. Morris, you may have noticed that being good is not my specialty.”

He flopped heavily onto the couch, his grace abandoned. Heather lifted the cheesecake out of the way as he did. The tactic was a diversion, apparently, as he parted the folds of her robe and settled the back of his head in her lap.

“You don’t do anything by half, do you?”

Jon shook his head, which rubbed the bristles of his short hair against her inner thighs. His smile told her he’d done it on purpose. Impossible man.

“Now feed me,” he said.

Heather placed the plastic container on his work-of-art abs. One forkful at a time, they traded bites. The cheesecake was utterly amazing, just tangy enough to counter the sweetness. The texture was so thick that it clung to the tines, no matter how slowly she dragged the fork past compressed lips. Subtle citrus flavored the chilly whipped cream, which was an unexpected surprise. It blended perfectly on her palate with the dark chocolate sauce.

Watching Jon eat and being watched by him—that was the real treat. Every lick. Every swallow. Every blissful moan of appreciation.

“You know what I’m going to do to you,” he said casually.

Shivers raced across her skin. Goose bumps. “Perhaps. But I think you should tell me.”

“Why?”

“Because being blunt about erotic things is arousing.”

A muscle on his cheek twitched. “They can be. True. But what about the mystery of the unknown?”

“You’ve already suggested that I know what you’re going to do.”

“You know, Heather, if you flew as well as you spar, you’d be a hell of a pilot.”

She trumped his chuckle with an outright laugh. “I’d pass out before I made it into the cockpit.”

He placed the cheesecake on the coffee table and turned onto his stomach, supported by his elbows. He blew a warm breath against the bare skin of her thighs while offering a remarkable view. Beneath his clingy briefs, his ass was taut and firm, just rounded enough to provide shape. The twin divots at his lower back were tempting enough to lick.

“I doubt that,” he said. “I have firsthand knowledge that you’re a brave woman.” He turned his head to grin up at her. “But you’d plow into something if you managed to take off.”

“In what life do you get to insult a woman while making plans to go down on her?”

“Who said I was going down on you?”

“I did.”

“Duly noted. And I wasn’t insulting you. You know full well that Heather Morris and an F-16 were not meant to be.” He nudged the robe open to her navel and dipped his tongue inside. “But Heather and an F-16
pilot
? That’s perfection.”

“You think I’d be here with just any flyboy?”

“Since you’d already agreed to dine with me before discovering my panty-wetting profession, then no.”

“Your ego is plated with titanium.”

“Safer that way.”

Before Heather could process that enigmatic comment, he pushed up on his hands, levering as if preparing for pushups. The movement rippled across the muscles of his back and shoulders, bunching his triceps into fierce, powerful knots. She caressed that flex and play of flesh. He was lean, solid, so strong.

Jon brought the cheesecake back within reach then opened her robe. Deliberate. Controlled. Already she’d learned to expect pleasure when his words dried up and his eyes turned sultry. The anticipation alone was enough to make her wet.

He scooped a finger of whipped cream and painted it along her inner thighs, up to her stomach. With patience and slow moves, he made her into his own personal dessert. Shivering, Heather forced her muscles to relax. She had no doubt,
none
, that he would make this amazing.

Jon dipped his head. Where his tongue would go first was a mystery. Only a glimmer of warming breath gave away his intention, just before he licked her thigh. Heat surged through her limbs. He consumed her. Teeth and tongue explored, lips sucked—all the while opening her thighs with implacable hands.

He murmured low and soft against her skin, words in French she couldn’t understand. Knowing him, it was probably filthy. The sublime and the sordid together. That was Jon. And he made her crazy.

Heather’s hands were restless. She rubbed her inner wrists against his buzzed hair, then petted up the length of his spine as tension built in her belly. He feasted, he teased, but he never got close to her clit.

Soon it was all she could think about—that place he hadn’t yet touched. She wanted his mouth there, firm against her sizzling nerves. She gave her body permission to beg. A moan started low in her throat, lengthening to a sound like a plea. She tensed her nails into the striated muscles of his shoulders and along his scalp. He hissed against her skin.

“Wider,” he said simply.

No talk and no sweet sentiments, just a quiet command Heather couldn’t help but obey. She spread her legs as he slipped around to the floor, kneeling. He parted her lips, leaned low and sucked.

Her hips clenched, but she forced herself to hold still. Part of her knew this was a gift. No matter how he teased and nibbled, he was being rather generous—giving, making no head-game demands. She felt the need to save her strength.

Jon was having none of it. He tensed his tongue, thrusting softly into her pussy. Heather bracketed his head in her hands. Desire swept over her in seeing him that way. His smoky eyes watched her. He judged every gasp, every twitch, as he dragged out her body’s secrets.

She couldn’t stand much more.

Seeming to sense that, he balanced an elbow on the couch, which freed his other hand. With his lips firm on her clit, he shoved two fingers into her cunt. No warning. Just that hard drive. Her body snapped back, the sudden orgasm like the quick crack of a whip.

“Oh,
God
,” she groaned.

For long moments Jon remained kneeling. His tongue laved and caressed, soothing her back into herself. Or perhaps he just enjoyed her taste. Heather could only lie there, momentarily spent, watching him work as she stroked circles over his bristly head. His attention ensured that she couldn’t tune out and call it a night. Her body—the greedy thing—still wanted more.

Then, rubbing the back of his hand across his mouth, he slipped out of his briefs and returned to the couch. Gloriously nude, he spread his knees. That animated eyebrow quirked as he glanced down at his renewed erection. “Heather love, be a dear and bring those beautiful lips over here. It’s my turn.”

Chapter Ten

Jon stretched his arms along the back of the couch and waited. As much as he wanted Heather’s mouth on his cock, he wasn’t begging for it. She seemed entirely capable of making up her own mind. About everything.

Besides, when Heather eased off the cushions to kneel between his thighs, the payoff was more satisfying. She ran her hands up the insides of his legs. Everything they did verged on slow motion, like they’d been dipped in spun honey. It was the tinge of competition. Neither wanted to be the first to snap.

Jon had already given up the first round when he’d ground his forearm along her spine as he slammed in to her, all for the pleasure of feeling her lovely back arch into his touch. Forcing him to come on her tits, at her command, had given Heather the win.

She looked up at him, pale eyes flashing. Suddenly he realized why he liked that coy move so much. It was this moment. This possibility. Her thumbs grazed the sensitive skin of his balls. She slid her cheek down his shaft. He’d been picturing his prick in her mouth every time she looked at him that way.

He gathered her dark brown hair and smoothed it all over one shoulder so he could see her face. The pink tip of her tongue darted out to slick his cock, from the base on up. She engulfed his throbbing head. He hissed in a breath and clenched his hand in her hair.

Earlier, he’d made himself back off from the same motion, but no more. He wound his fingers more tightly through the strands. “You didn’t seem like a tease earlier. In fact, I distinctly remember how you insisted that I fuck you immediately.”

Pure challenge gleamed in her blue gaze. She circled her thumb and forefinger around the base of his dick. Tugged. “Time and place, I suppose.”

He smiled, a little unwillingly. “More like you’re trying to drive me nuts.”

“That too.”

Pulling the hair tighter he said, “Suck me.”

Even when Heather bent her head and circled those lush lips around his cock, he felt…off. Like he was still losing. The shock down to his balls was exquisite—a sensation worth any sacrifice. She coiled her tongue over his head as her hands slid up and down his shaft.

Letting his spine curl, he shifted his ass to the edge of the cushion and sank into her tender mercies. Perhaps she noticed his hint because she took him deeply. Her mouth was a wet, fiery furnace. Her cheeks hollowed with the suction.

Jon traced the shadows under her cheekbones. “Has anyone ever told you how pretty you look with a cock tucked between those luscious lips?”

A slurp heralded her mouth’s pop off the end of his dick. She lapped a dot of moisture from his slit. “Not in a long time.”

His attention returned to her throat, as if dragged back to that vulnerability. She was so well armored everywhere else, including her thoughts, that he sought any way in.

“But you’ve been told that before?”

Something dark and unpleasant filtered across her features. She ignored his question. Again.

Instead she bobbed her head over his cock, her tongue grazing the underside of his shaft. Her thumbs crisscrossed to massage beneath his balls. Pure pleasure jerked his hips up. He wound silky strands between his knuckles.

She took every bit of it. Her mouth angled over his shaft again and again. The combination of wet pressure and suction was driving him up over the edge faster than he would’ve liked. He’d had plenty of blow jobs—some of them damn good. Nothing compared to the wicked pleasure of watching Heather’s classic beauty do something so dirty with so much enthusiasm.

He latched his fingers behind her head, applying pressure. She only pulsed deeper, until the head of his cock brushed the back of her throat. When she returned to lick the ridge around his head, she grinned.

“Bedroom,” he growled. “Now.”

The even playing field of the bed was somewhere he knew well. There, he’d have her spread out for his pleasure. Turn the tables.

“I think we’re doing just fine here.”

Slow and controlled, he tucked her hair behind her ears. “Sure, we are. If we stay here, I get to come hard in your pretty mouth. But if we go in there…I get to make you come as well. I can work with either.”

She opened her mouth one more time, and she clenched the tendons of his inner thighs.

“If you put it that way.” In a flash she was up on her feet, running for the bedroom. Her words trailed over her shoulder along with a stream of dark hair. “Last one to the bedroom comes last.”

He laughed. Full-out laughed, even as his dick throbbed with wanting her ripe peach-shaped ass, even as he grabbed a condom out of his suit coat, even as he plotted how he’d make her crack. The adventure of that task was obvious now, so much more challenging than he’d expected when finding her all alone at the wine bar.

Stepping into the bedroom offered more proof of that. Heather had sprawled across the mound of pillows at the head of the bed. The robe was just a pile of white tossed to the side. Nothing hid her curvaceous body.

She’d started without him. Her knees were splayed. With one hand she stroked her clit and with the other she cupped her breast, tracing patterns with her nails over the soft flesh. “You lost,” she purred. “I get the first orgasm.”

“Greedy.”

She murmured a wordless agreement.

Jon crawled up the bed. His arms shook as he levered over her, though he was nowhere near muscle failure. Just plain eagerness.

She didn’t stop circling her fingers over her wet pussy as he slipped on the condom. “Sometimes it’s good being a girl.”