One Hit Wonderful (18 page)

“I also wanted to be on top,” she gasped. The broad head of his cock was pushing into her, stretching her wide, and her back arched as sensation exploded through her.

“Next time,” he repeated, and pushed forward.

He felt huge as he moved inside her, impossibly large, and she felt a real moment of panic as the sensation bordered on pain. He pulled out halfway then pushed forward again, seating himself to the hilt. Her senses went riot as she struggled to adjust to the invasion, to accommodate the length and breadth of him tunneling inside her.

“God, Lily.”

She opened her eyes at his tortured groan. He hung above her, still as stone except for the fine quiver that occasionally stole over his body. He was sweating, she realized, with the effort of holding back.

Her lips were dry, so she wet them, feeling a burst of heat as his eyes tracked the movement. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words couldn’t squeeze past the sudden lump of emotion in her throat. So she decided to communicate with her body.

Her legs came up, her pelvis tilting to meet his as they wrapped around his hips. Her hands clung to his rib cage, her breath came in pants as she arched into him.

His face spasmed, a brief flash of exquisite agony then he began to move.

Time seemed to stand still as they moved together on the bed, in the dark. Flesh slid over flesh, tongues tangled until Lily lost track of where she ended and he began. Each surge of his hips brought fresh sensation, each brush of his hands and caress of his lips dark new delights until her entire focus, her entire being was centered on the thrust and glide of his body into hers.

Her head tossed on the pillow, hands grasping for purchase on his sweaty flesh as the tension began to build. “Faster,” she murmured, whimpering as a flash of sensation tore through her, a fluttering precursor to the greater pleasure that remained just out of reach. “Faster.”

“Don’t want to,” he breathed, his breath puffing hot against her cheek. His hips continued to roll, advancing and retreating at the same steady pace. “You feel so amazing, I don’t want it to end yet.”

“Too much,” she moaned.

“Not enough,” he countered, and kept going.

He refused to speed up, no matter how she begged and pleaded. They were both damp with sweat; it dripped from his forehead to splash against her chest, it beaded on her temples to run in rivulets into her hair. The slick friction of skin on skin was driving her crazy, holding her climax just out of reach. She needed more, harder, heavier, faster, and he didn’t look as though he was willing to give it to her.

She pulled her hands from his back, but before she could slide them between their damp bodies, he grabbed for them, twining their fingers and pressing the backs of her hands into the pillow beside her head.

“Hold on,” he told her, eyes dark and intense and screaming with lust. “Just a little longer, baby, just a little more.”

“You’re killing me,” she cried. She tried to push her hips up, to force him to move, to drive, to finish it for them both goddammit! But he simply pushed his weight into her, controlling her without effort and making her sob with frustration.

“I hate you,” she groaned.

“No you don’t,” he panted. “Stay with me, Lily. Be with me, I need you with me.”

“I can’t…” Her head was tossing mindlessly now, her hair tangling on the pillow.

“Yes, you can. Look at me.” He squeezed her hands. “Look at me, baby.”

Her eyes flew open, brown eyes locking onto green with the desperation of the damned.

“That’s it,” he murmured, and ever so slightly picked up the pace. “Stay with me, keeping looking at me. I want to see you go over, I want to watch.”

It was so intimate, she thought, so intimate and intense and crazy to be looking into his eyes at such a moment, when the pressure and the pleasure came together in the pit of her belly in a big ball of fire that threatened to swallow her whole.

But he wouldn’t let her look away, wouldn’t let her close her eyes or turn her head to ease the knot under her heart. So she was staring into his eyes, brown drowning in green, when the spasms took her, when her body convulsed, unable to hold the tension any longer and the orgasm poured through her like fire.

And he was staring into hers when he followed.

Chapter Eleven

“When I get my strength back, I’m going to kill you for that.”

His weak chuckle tickled her ear. “I think you already did.”

“Serves you right,” she murmured, and sighed, content. The firm weight of him was pressing her into the mattress, so breathing was a bit more of an effort than normal, her thighs were beginning to ache from their position around his waist, and she was pretty sure a button on the coverlet was permanently embedded in her back. But none of that seemed important enough to actually move.

“I don’t think we should ever move from this spot,” he muttered, echoing her thoughts and making her smile.

“Okay,” she agreed. “Although eventually, I am going to have to pee.”

He grunted in her ear. “Give me at least a two-minute warning.”

She chuckled and let her legs slide off his hips, wincing a bit as her thighs protested the movement. He may have sensed her discomfort, or perhaps he just felt the tremble of strained muscles, his hands slide down her sides to her legs and began massaging in gentle circles.

“Oh,” she sighed.

“Good?”

“Oh yeah.” She stretched under his hands, her toes curling a bit as the last bit of tension left her body.

“I’m too heavy for you.”

“Maybe a little.” She turned to look at him, his face so close to hers they bumped noses. “But this is nice.”

He nudged her nose with his. “It’s perfect. Except…”

“Except?”

“There’s vanilla bean ice cream in the freezer.”

“Really?”

“With hot fudge and whipped cream.”

“Hot fudge sundaes? Oh, go get it.” She landed a playful smack on his ass. “Make mine with extra fudge.”

“Hey.” He reached back to rub his butt. “I cooked dinner.”

“And it was delicious,” she assured him.

“I thought whoever made dinner didn’t have to get dessert.”

“No, you’re thinking whoever makes dinner doesn’t have to clear the dishes.”

“But I already cleared the dishes.”

“Whoops.” She laughed when he frowned.

“Next time, you cook and clear,” he told her, and pushed off her to sit on the side of the bed.

“I think next time we’re ordering in.”

“Well, then you’ll have to take out the garbage.” He glanced back over his shoulder as he dealt with the condom. “You want to eat in bed, or come downstairs?”

“I’ll come downstairs if I can borrow your shirt.”

“What’s wrong with naked?” he asked.

“I can’t be in the kitchen naked,” she told him, and suppressed a shudder. “It would just be unsanitary.”

“Girls are weird,” he decided, but snagged his shirt off the floor and held it out for her.

He chuckled when her hands disappeared in the sleeves and deftly rolled them up to her wrists. “On second thought, that looks great,” he told her. He tugged on the open lapel. “Just like that.”

She rolled her eyes and brushed his hands away to button it up. “Ice cream,” she reminded him.

“Spoilsport,” he muttered, and snagged a pair of boxers out of the dresser as he followed her out.

They padded down to the kitchen, tiptoeing past the living room where Beau snored away.

“How does he wedge himself under the coffee table like that?” she whispered.

“I have no idea,” he said, and flipped on the kitchen light.

She followed his directions and found bowls and spoons while he dug out the carton of ice cream and toppings.

“Sprinkles?” she said, delighted.

“How can you have hot fudge sundaes without sprinkles?” He pried the lid off the carton and dug the scoop into the frozen treat.

She started to hitch herself up on one of the kitchen stools to watch him work then frowned. “Nuts.”

“Yeah, I got nuts.” He shook the can of salted peanuts at her.

“No.” She laughed. “I meant—nuts, I forgot my cell phone at home.”

“You can use my phone if you need to make a call.”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t need to call anyone, I just want to have my phone with me in case anyone calls.”

He scooped ice cream into a bowl. “Like who?”

“Bridget, mainly. She had to change hotels, and I’d like her to be able to get in touch with me if she needs to.”

He frowned. “Why’d she change hotels?”

“Max has been harassing her a bit.” She read the look on his face and held out a placating hand. “He hasn’t done anything threatening, he’s just calling and bugging her. Since he knew what hotel she was staying in, she switched. And she’s keeping her cell phone off because he was blowing that up, so if she happens to call, I don’t want to miss her.”

She slid back off the stool and headed for the kitchen door. “I’m just going to run back home and get it.”

He frowned and paused in mid-scoop. “It’s dark.”

She blinked. “It’s fifty feet across the lawn.”

“Still.” He put the scoop down and wiped his hands on a dishtowel. “I’ll walk you over.”

She laughed, incredulous. “Are you kidding?” She saw that he wasn’t. “Nate, come on. That’s silly. I’ll be gone two minutes, tops. I’ll probably be back before you finish making the sundaes.”

“Okay,” he said with obvious reluctance. “But if you’re not back in two and a half minutes, I’m coming after you.”

“Aw.” She leaned over to press a kiss to his chin. “Don’t forget,” she said as she moved toward the door. “I want nuts on mine.”

“Right, nuts.”

“And extra whipped cream,” she called over her shoulder.

Lily shut the door behind her and started across the drive, breaking into a trot when she hit the grass. It was damp beneath her bare feet, cool and soft, and she barely resisted the urge to curl her toes into it. She knew if she wasn’t back in the prescribed two and a half minutes, he’d be chasing her down.

It was kind of cute, actually, the way he was just a little overprotective of her. Misguided, of course—she could take care of herself—but it was nice to be worried about.

She smiled a little as she let herself into the stairwell and padded up the stairs. This relationship was moving faster than she’d expected, but it was hard to regret it when it made her feel this good.

She was grinning when she opened the door to her apartment, eager to grab her cell phone and get back to her hot man and hot fudge sundae. Then she was screaming.

* * * * *

Nate was out the door and running across the lawn before the sound from that first scream had fully faded away. He hit the outside door at full speed, taking the stairs two at a time. He burst through the open door of the apartment and almost slammed into Lily. She was standing stock still in the doorway, facing the room.

“Lily, what’s wrong?” He stepped in front of her, taking her by the shoulders and giving her a small shake. “Baby?”

She blinked up at him. “Nate.”

“What, what’s wrong?” He looked her over, every inch, but aside from the shell-shocked expression on her face, he couldn’t see anything wrong with her. “The way you screamed I thought you were being attacked.”

“Not me.” She pointed behind him. “The apartment.”

Nate turned around and swore under his breath. The place was ransacked—drawers pulled out and emptied, stuffing spilling out of slashed cushions, books pulled off the shelves and tossed hither and yon. The kitchen cabinets had been emptied, their contents strewn all over the counters and floor.

“Fuck.”

She laughed, the sound hollow and strained. “Yeah.”

She took a step forward, and his hand shot out to grasp her arm. “Where are you going?”

“I want to see if the bedroom’s okay, the bathroom.”

“Let me go first,” he told her. “In case whoever did this is still here.” He saw the hesitation on her face, the need to inspect her property herself. “Please. It’d make me feel better.”

She sighed and wrapped her arms around her shoulders in an unconscious hug. “Okay. Hurry though?”

He squeezed her arms reassuringly. “I’ll be back in two seconds,” he assured her, and stepped down the hall.

It only took half that long for him to see the rest of the apartment had suffered the same fate. The shower curtain in the bath had been slashed, and the floor was littered with debris, all the little pots and tubes, what he often thought of as the tools of being female, were spilled or smashed or smeared all over the floor. In the bedroom, the bed had been stripped, pillows ripped open and tossed in the corners, the drawers ripped from the dresser and emptied.

The closet showed signs of more destruction. All the clothes had been stripped off the hangers and pulled from the shelves to be left in a pile in the middle of the floor.