Into the Blue (A Wild Aces Romance) (12 page)

I stared at my reflection in the mirror, attempting to channel my inner man-eater.

You are sexy. This is the best you’ve ever looked. You can do this. Do not get awkward. Do not babble. Do not freak the fuck out.

I felt about as nervous as I had my first day in court, except this time I had the added benefit of being sans clothes.

I took a sip of the champagne I’d poured, steadying my nerves.

I’d forgone dinner, figuring there was no point in making this something that it wasn’t; the sext said it all—this was physical, nothing else.

Heart, do not engage.

I heard the knock at the front door, my gaze flying to the clock on the nightstand. Seven on the dot. I shouldn’t be surprised that he was punctual given his military background, but it was a change from the boy who’d been perpetually late for everything.

Equal parts nerves and anticipation filled me, and I wasn’t sure if his promptness was something to be cursed or praised. I could have used another few minutes or hours to get my shit together.

Now or never.

I took a deep breath, steadying myself, noticing how the motion made my breasts bounce. Seriously, this corset was better than a freaking boob job.

I walked to the front door on the ridiculously high stiletto heels I’d bought at the sex shop. I’d never owned anything quite like them, but in for a penny, in for a pound.

I unlocked the door, taking a quick sweep of the room—low lighting, candles, seduction music that was more sexy than romantic. Perfect.

I opened the door with the flourish of pulling back a curtain and stared up into Eric’s eyes. Even in the heels, he still had a few inches on me, but by the time my gaze met his, the full punch of lust had settled there. And I basked in it. Drank it up like fine wine.

I stepped back on shaky legs, opening the door for him to step over the threshold, hoping I wasn’t giving my neighbors a hell of a show in the process.

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He didn’t speak as I closed the door behind him.

He looked hot tonight—really hot.

Dark jeans. Another button-down with the sleeves rolled—this one navy, complementing the blue in his eyes. He smelled good, he looked amazing, and whatever nerves lingered inside me converted themselves to desire by the time my perusal reached his fine ass.

Eric turned and stared at me, his gaze piercing me again, lingering on my breasts, sliding down to the scrap of lace between my legs, a flush rising on my skin under his scrutiny
before he lowered his attention to my bare legs and the strappy sex heels covering my feet.

He grinned, his gaze sparkling with mischief. “Please tell me you don’t always answer the door like that.”

I opened my mouth to respond with something normal, and then I remembered my mantra and the fact that I was supposed to be some kind of sex-vixen or whatever. Man-eaters didn’t explain themselves. Right.

I took a step closer to him, and then another one, until the tips of my breasts—my already-pebbling-in-anticipation nipples—brushed against his pecs.

He groaned, reaching for me, his hands cupping my bare ass, squeezing, kneading the flesh there.

Get control. You need the upper hand.

I tilted my head up, inhaling his scent, my lips grazing the curve of his neck, reveling in the shudder against my mouth.

Oh, yeah. I could get used to this.

My lips found his ear, sucking gently on the lobe, nipping the soft flesh with my teeth, my body tingling as another groan fell from his lips, his fingers digging into my ass.

“How badly do you want me?” I whispered, trying for the throaty sex voice I’d spent some time practicing earlier this afternoon. The fact that I was getting over a cold had definitely helped.

His cock hardened against me and I purposefully shifted my body, drawing him closer to the throbbing point between my legs.

Eric buried his face in the curve of my neck, mouthing the skin there, his breath wet and warm. Moisture pooled between my legs.

“You sent me that picture and I was already hard, wanting you. Already aching, remembering how sweet you tasted
on my tongue, what it felt like to have your pussy quivering beneath my mouth. When I saw your tits like that, all I could think about was fucking you there, sliding my cock between them while I cupped you, pushing them together so they swallowed me, jacking myself off over all of that creamy white skin.”

Cannot breathe. Need air. Legs giving out.

I dug deep to withstand the impact of his words without completely dissolving into a writhing, needy mess.

“I ended up fisting myself, getting myself off to the picture of your tits, just like this, and the image of what I’d do to them later,” he growled.

Ahh hell.

A tremor slid down my body, then another one. Tension slammed into me, and for a moment I couldn’t do anything but stand there like a rabbit caught in his snare, my heart pounding in my chest as lust hit me wave after wave and I fought the desire to throw caution to the wind and give myself over to pleasure.

This mattered. It mattered to me. I wanted to be the one left standing when he walked away and I wasn’t so naive as to think sex wasn’t a big part of this. Right now boundaries were my best friend and I wanted the power that surged through me at the idea that I’d turned him inside out. I wanted to do it all night long.

I slipped out of his grasp, taking a step back, putting the distance I needed between us to give my body a chance to get this raging need under control.

I tilted my head up so my gaze locked on to his, holding myself steady in the face of the arousal I saw there.

“If you want me, you have to do what I say.” His gaze sharpened as the words left my lips, and I felt it then, that familiar ping of power.

He’d always been older, always been the more experienced one, and I’d always been happy to follow his lead.

Not anymore.

His mouth quirked into a smile that was a couple notches above his usual mischief, as though he were channeling the devil himself.

That did things to me, too.

I kept my voice firm, using the tone I adopted when faced with a difficult judge or pain-in-the-ass opposing counsel. No way was I going to let him charm me. If he wanted in, he was going to have to earn it.

As soon as I rolled my tongue back into my mouth.

He took a step closer to me, that fucking smirk in his eyes that I recognized all too well. Then another step.

“Just what are you going to do with me?” he whispered, his hand trailing down my arm, leaving a flash of goose bumps in its wake. I fought the tremor.

“First off, you have to ask permission to touch me.”

Oh, his smile turned wicked at that, warming me from the inside out like molten lava sliding through my veins. He pulled his hand back slowly, letting it dangle at his side.

“Can I touch you?” he whispered, his voice teasing me, slithering inside and curling around my heart.

I barely resisted the urge to fan myself.

Get a freaking grip.

“Take off your shirt first.”

There. That was good. Commanding. Plus it gave me the added advantage of eye candy, and if I was going to have all of my naked bits hanging out, then he should have the same.

He started at the top button of his shirt, undoing it and exposing the skin at the bottom of his throat, and then the next one, and then the next, those clever fingers baring his beautiful body before me and sucking all the air from the
room. Eric shrugged out of the shirt, the fabric hitting the floor.

I looked my fill and he let me, standing there as though he knew exactly the effect his body had on me, and he loved every minute of it.

To be fair, though, he deserved the adulation.

He clearly worked at it and it showed. He was all smooth planes and sculpted muscles, light hair sprinkling across his chest. And then my gaze dipped lower, to the trail of hair disappearing below the waistband of his jeans, and suddenly, I wanted more.

“Pants next.”

His eyes gleamed and a dimple popped out. Yeah, he was definitely enjoying this.

“How about boxers?” he asked, his voice husky, raising the stakes as his hands rested on his belt buckle.

“Boxers, too.”

It felt like all the noise had disappeared from the room but for the sound of the metal buckle clanging together, then the soft whoosh of the leather leaving the loops, the belt hitting the floor with a thunk. Then came his zipper, dragging down slowly in a move I was pretty sure was designed to be my own private fighter pilot striptease.

I ate it up like an ice cream sundae.

Then the jeans slid down his hips, exposing a pair of black boxers, a defined vee like an arrow pointing down to a spot I desperately wanted to go, and the even more impressive erection I’d felt against me.

Maybe I should sit down.

Eric bent, his body rippling with the movement, and removed his shoes, kicking his pants off. And then he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of his boxers, dragging the fabric down until his cock popped free.

He was thick, long, and really fucking perfect.

And damn him, he knew it.

“Can I touch you now?”

Seriously, how did he do it? He was standing naked in my living room, I was in charge, and yet his questions sounded suspiciously like commands cloaked in a veil of faux deference.

And yeah, at this point, I didn’t really care all that much who ended up on top, as long as I came. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to try my damnedest to get there first.

I nodded, figuring that seemed more imposing and authoritative. Plus words weren’t really coming in the face of the fact that he looked like a more well-endowed version of the statue of David. Or like the god his call sign proclaimed him to be.

“Where?”

Oh, he really was the devil.

I swallowed, looking into his eyes and seeing the challenge there, hearing the unspoken dare to commit to what I’d started.

I couldn’t say “tits”—I tried for like a second, but my mouth just wouldn’t form the words—so I settled for “breasts” instead. So what if I sounded like a sex-ed lecture, I figured the lace, cleavage, and tight nipples more than made up for it.

He took another step toward me, invading my space, his hand reaching out and cupping my breast, squeezing, testing the heavy weight. I bit down on my lip to keep from groaning, unable to resist the urge to arch forward, wanting more than just his hand on me. I waited for him to move, but he didn’t. He just stood there, my breast in his hand, until finally I couldn’t take it anymore.

“What are you waiting for?”

I tried—and failed—to keep the tremor from my voice.

I was so wet now, so beyond aroused, and I needed more than just the scraps he’d given me—nothing at all, really.

“I’m waiting for you to tell me how I can touch you. Where. Waiting to make sure I don’t do something I’m not supposed to do.”

I stifled the growl that rose in my throat. He was totally fucking with me and not in the fun orgasm-inducing way, but in a teasing, arrogant sort of way, which made me want to make him beg for it all that much more and also ratcheted up my attraction another notch or ten.

Was it rude to ask him to stop talking? I couldn’t handle the talking.

“For example,” he purred, his voice bathing me in silk. “If I wanted to lift those pretty tits out from your bra and run my thumbs over your nipples, tugging on them until they got hard”—he broke off, his gaze lowering to my breasts, that fucking dimple popping out again—“
harder
,” he corrected, as I blushed. “Would you let me do that?” he whispered. “What if I wanted to suck on them, take those nipples between my lips, feasting on those gorgeous fucking tits?”

My head went back, pleasure, sharp and sweet, surging through my body. I swallowed, gathered my courage, and looked him dead in the eye. Two could play this game.

“I want your hands on me. And then I want your mouth. Now.”

If she hadn’t ruined me for other women before—which I was pretty sure she fucking
had
—then she’d definitely accomplished it in one afternoon and evening.

I didn’t know what had gotten into her or what I’d done to deserve it, but she’d taken sexy to a whole new level and I was more than happy to reap the rewards, especially if it got me more of what I’d found when I’d laid her down on the blanket in the field and teased her orgasm out of her, when she’d shattered against my lips until I swallowed every drop.

I reached out, feeling the tremor in my hands, the twitch in my cock, as I grazed the lace cup of her corset, my finger inches away from her nipple.

Her eyes fluttered closed, her lips parting.

Fucking gorgeous.

I trailed my finger up until I found the spot where the swell of her breast met lace, stroking her there—
so soft
—before I did what I’d promised—sliding my fingers under the lace, and lifting her gorgeous tits from the fabric so that they were exposed to my gaze, the corset pushing them up even higher in a pose that was so hot, it was obscene.

It took a moment for me to get my body under control, a moment when all I could do was stare at her, and then I had to move, my hands cupping her breasts, fingers teasing her nipples, until I found heaven.

“What do you want?” I whispered, getting off on this demanding thing she had going on more than I ever imagined I would.

When she answered me, her voice shook. “Just keep doing what you’re doing.”

I fought the need thundering through my veins, telling myself I had to go slow, had to make this perfect for her. I worshipped her breasts with my hands, everything I had focused on giving her the best night of her life.

When her voice threaded through the moans and sighs coming from both of us, when she told me she wanted my
mouth, I was already so far past my breaking point, it wasn’t funny. When my lips closed down around her nipple—sucking the tight bud into my mouth—I swear I saw stars. She tasted so fucking sweet, her body so responsive as I laved her flesh with my tongue, tugging on the tip with my teeth, switching from one to the next, all while she ran her hands along my back, her body bowing as I supported her, as I ravaged her skin until she was the prettiest shades of pink I’d ever seen. Until I leaned back and admired my work, the way her nipples popped like two berries, red and shiny from my mouth.

“Do you have any idea of how badly I want you?” I ground the words out, my heart racing, dick aching. “Any idea of how you look right now and how you just make me want to do all kinds of filthy things to you?”

Her nails dug even deeper into my skin.

I reached behind her, my fingers unhooking the corset, trembling with the movement until I finally reached the last one and the fabric hit the floor, baring her torso to me. I slid my hand down her stomach, reveling in how soft she felt, my fingers hovering above the top of her thong.

My gaze met hers. “Can I touch you? Lick you? I want to make you come.”

Her eyelashes fluttered, the look in her eyes somewhere past dazed, her skin flushed. She nodded like a fucking queen addressing a peasant.

I sank to my knees, finesse going out the window as I gripped the waistband of the lace covering her, pulling it down her hips, down her legs, and then she was naked before me.

I didn’t wait, didn’t take the time to admire the view; I just put my mouth on her, wanting more of the taste I’d already had of her, the taste I’d been craving since I’d gone down on her in the field.

She was so wet, so warm, her body shaking beneath my touch, and I lost a bit of my sanity. It didn’t take long before I felt her shattering, her orgasm on my tongue as I gripped her ass, as the carpet dug into my knees. I held her up after, swallowing the aftershocks that quaked her body, and then I was sweeping her up and carrying her into the bedroom, needing to get inside her.

I set her down on the giant bed, kissing the inside of her thigh.

“I have condoms in the nightstand,” she said.

I opened the drawer, my fingers shaking with anticipation, grabbing one of the foil packets like it was buried treasure, tearing it open and sliding the condom over my cock.

I moved on top of her, only to be surprised when she gripped my arms, hooking her leg over my hip and changing positions, pushing me onto my back so she straddled me.

My heart clenched as I reached out and grabbed her hand, lacing my fingers with hers.

Her orgasm seemed to have taken the edge off her need, because suddenly she was back in control again and I was the one on my proverbial knees, begging her to give me what I wanted, craved—

She fisted my cock, lifting her body up, positioning herself just over me, hovering there, our flesh barely touching, the heat and wetness spilling from her body, coating the tip. She braced herself, her body sliding down over me, her neck thrown back as she impaled herself on my cock, her back arched, tits thrust forward.

I groaned, going into sensory overload at the feel and sight of her. It didn’t get better than this.

I released her hand, gripping either side of her hips, pulling her down onto me, needing to feel all of her. I began to move, setting the pace, but in that, too, I lost control.

I was helpless beneath her as she began riding me, her hands braced on the iron headboard above me, her tits hovering inches away from my mouth. I couldn’t resist the urge to capture her nipples between my lips as she rocked over me, her tits bouncing and swaying as she gripped my cock in a tight, wet glove.

I slipped my hand between us, my thumb finding her swollen clit, needing to feel her come again, wanting to watch her lose the last vestiges of control. I felt her clench down around me, drank in the moans falling from her lips as she gripped my cock, as she came.

And then I felt it, the orgasm building at the base of my spine, my balls tightening, as I came hard and fast, until we both sprawled out on the sheets, sated and spent, and she had my heart and body in the palm of her hand.