Out of Control (28 page)

“Margot,” he said. “Get the dress off. Now.”

She backed away as he moved in on her. “Hey! Watch it. Don't you dare hurt this dress, Davy McCloud. Not only is it the one nice dress I own, it's also the only thing I have to put on my body.”

“Take it off.” He couldn't control the rasp of menace in his voice.

She grabbed handfuls of the skirt and stared at him, wide-eyed. Every time he got too aggressive, she drew back and tightened up. He didn't have the patience to coax her back, or the self-control to let her lead. But he didn't dare screw this up. It would kill him to stop now.

He backed up until he felt the rough planking of the wall scrape his bare back. “Don't worry,” he coaxed. “I'm chained to a tree, remember?” He held out his arms and splayed them against the planks. “Can't move a muscle. Go on, have at me. Be cruel. Make me suffer.”

A nervous nod, and she shimmied the dress up. Wisps of hair clung to her face as she pulled the garment over her head. The slip hugged every swell and hollow of her body.

“Take it off,” he urged, his voice rough. “All of it.”

She licked her lips, tugged the straps down till they cleared the satin demi bra that propped up the cleavage that had taunted him all day. She unclasped it, baring those lush, soft tits that never failed to steal his breath. She worked the slip down over the swell of her hips, let it drop around her feet, kicked off the fragile high-heeled sandals.

She plucked out hairpins, undid the silver pin that was stuck through her hair, and shook out the thick, wild mass. It twirled every which way, all the crazier for having been confined all day. She moved closer, so he could smell the scent of her skin and hair, the hot, rich scent of her arousal. Her eyes dazzled him, fever bright with excitement.

“That first night, at my house, when you took off your shirt, I wanted to touch you like this so badly,” she said. “I ached for it.”

“Do it now,” he urged. “You're killing me. Do it. Do anything.”

She pressed her warm, soft lips to the hollow at the base of his throat, cuddling closer so that his cock brushed against her belly. She shimmied closer, lodging the tip of his cock between her strong thighs, squeezing until he gasped. The skin of her thighs was so fine and soft, the puff of pubic hair between them barely tickling his cock.

Her fingers caressed him, murmuring her approval. She tilted her head lower and suckled his nipple as she pulsed her thighs around him. He flung back his head and sucked in a deep breath to keep the pleasure from spilling over into ejaculation.

Energy shot up his spine, exploding in his head like fireworks.

When he opened his eyes, she was gazing at him, puzzled.

“It felt like you just came.” She slid her hand down to investigate, tenderly caressing his cock. “Except that you didn't. Apparently.”

“I sort of did,” he admitted. “I stopped right at the edge. I could do that all night, and never get tired. It's just a trick of concentration.”

The wondering look in her eyes turned into a catlike, approving smile. “All night? Very cool. I like your sex tricks, Davy. Let's see you do it again.” She knelt, sliding her hands down over his hips. “Can you control yourself like that if you're in my mouth?”

He cupped her face in his hands. “Is that a challenge?”

She licked him from base to tip, and slid her hand between her legs as she drew the head of his cock into her hot mouth and sucked it.

She held up fingers that glistened. “See what you do to me?”

He sank down to his knees, seized her hand and brought it to his mouth, sucking the salty sweet lube off her fingers. “I need you now. I don't want to play around.” He pulled her to her feet and groped in the dresser drawer for the condom stash.

“Hey, buddy. I thought you were chained to a tree!”

“So I cheated. Call me Houdini.” He fumbled the thing on with desperate haste, and tumbled her onto the bed.

She glowed against the dingy blanket, luminous. He wished there were something softer on the bed for her. Scratchy wool that smelled like mothballs and dust was fine for him, but not good enough for her.

Not that he could even hold a thought for very long. The shadowy beauty of her body made him distracted. Dazzled and stupid.

He stayed on his feet, stroking the tender cleft between her thighs with his fingers, spreading the wet pink folds. He thrust himself deep.

She braced her hands against his chest as she stared into his eyes. “Are you OK?” she asked, her voice tremulous.

“Never better,” he said. “That's my line, anyhow. Are you?”

The giggles made her pussy contract deliciously around his cock. “Yes, I'm great,” she said. “You just looked kind of scared, that's all.”

“It's been a scary day. But this makes up for a lot.”

She nodded and began to move, inviting him with her body to indulge himself. No fighting, just sweet eagerness. She had surrendered to pleasure. The more open she was to him, the wider open he was to her. It was a feeling that grew, expanded into a blast of raw energy. His body surged into hers, out of control, but she was with him all the way, cluching him with her arms and legs and pulling him down on top of her. His lifeline. They shot together over the edge, lost in a pleasure so huge, it blotted out all coherent thought.

He opened his eyes when he felt the soft vibration. Her face was wet, eyes squeezed shut. “Hey. Margot. Are you—”

“No. I'm not OK. I'm a train wreck.” She mopped her eyes with her fingers. “Of all times in my life to feel like this about a guy. I knew it. I knew you'd be too much for me, and I just went ahead and jumped.”

He felt bewildered and helpless. “Margot, I didn't mean to—”

“Don't.” She covered his mouth with her hand. “My stupid feelings are not your fault. You're doing your best, so don't even say it. Just…let me get up, please. I need to run into the bathroom for a sec.”

This isn't my best
, he wanted to say, but he didn't know what the words meant, or where they came from. He slid out of her body. She got up and scurried out of the room.

His best? He didn't know what his best was. He was changing, mutating before his own horrified eyes. It was tying him in knots.

He disposed of the condom and got between the threadbare sheets, fingering the limp weight of the coarse wool blanket. When he brought Margot here again, he'd bring some new bedclothes with him.

When she ventured back into the room, she looked shy, her eyes damp and pink. He scooted over to the cool side and lifted the covers for her. She slid into the bed beside him. Every inch of his skin rejoiced at the contact. He wanted to tell her that, but he couldn't think of a way to express it that wouldn't make her start crying again. God forbid.

He smoothed her hair away from her face. “I love your hair.”

She twirled a lock of her hair and smiled at him. “You should have seen it back in the good old days, when I was a redhead and could afford expensive haircuts. I looked pretty fine, if I do say so myself.”

“I saw pictures of your haircut. You looked great, but I like it better long and soft and loose around your face. It's sexier.”

“Oh. Thanks.” She vibrated against him, that suppressed emotion he'd begun to recognize as neither laughter nor tears, just an overflow of whatever she was trying to hold inside herself. It made his chest ache with tenderness. He wanted to see that coppery color framing her beautiful face. He tightened his arms around her. “Grow it out for me.”

She gulped. “Um…OK. If you like.”

It occurred to him that hair grew out slowly. It took months. Years, even. The thought, far from alarming him, was oddly comforting.

 

Margot was too wired to sleep. She was unwilling to miss a single second of the delicious heat of Davy's naked body behind hers. He held her tightly, spooned up back to front to get as much skin contact as possible. She'd assumed that he was sleeping until he started petting her, his hand stroking her belly, sliding lower until it teased the tangle of hair between her legs. A questioning stroke as light as a kiss.

It was ridiculous, but she couldn't deny him anything. Not the way she felt tonight. She loosened her thighs and pressed his hand deeper, moving around his fingers to seek out more of that sweet, desperate unraveling that only he could wring from her.

Then he slid his other hand under the curve of her bottom, seeking the same soft well of silken liquid heat from behind.

Her eyes flew open. She tried to wiggle away, but he'd already slid his finger inside her. Cold alarm fluttered in her belly. She'd never liked being touched from behind. It made her feel helpless and ashamed.

But then again, this was Davy. He circled her clitoris from the front while his long finger thrust tenderly inside her. She squirmed against him, caught on a merciless prong of sensation.

Suddenly, shockingly, it boiled over into spasms of pleasure.

Whoa. She trembled in his arms. That was…new.

She didn't even have time to comment on it before she felt him fumbling behind her to smooth a condom over himself, and suddenly he'd replaced his fingers with his penis. He pushed himself into her slick opening, gaining entry one little, surging thrust at a time.

She wiggled against him, but his arm held her fast. “That was sneaky,” she said. “I told you. I don't like it from behind.”

He did not stop his slow, rocking thrusts. “Why not?”

“It makes me feel cheap,” she whispered. “Like someone's helping himself to a piece of me without even looking at me.”

He stopped moving, his arms tightening. “I'm looking at you,” he said. “I'll stop if you hate it. But it doesn't feel like you hate it, Margot. It feels like you're about to explode all over again, if I rub you—right here, while I push my cock against this spot inside you…like that. See?”

She cried out as the deep, sensual push against her sensitive inner hot spot that nudged her into another long wave of sensation.

He kissed the side of her neck. “I want deeper inside,” he said. “Let me in. Roll over onto your stomach and open your legs.”

The words were spoken with the command that was as habitual to him as breathing. As if he had not the faintest doubt that he would be obeyed. Part of her resisted, but a deeper, quieter part understood the language of his body, the pleading caresses of his hands, his lips.

He was a big, powerful man. He could push her into any position he liked, but he didn't. He just waited, petting and nuzzling her nape.

She did as he asked, and rolled over. Not obeying, but consenting. The wordless wisdom of her own body could tell the difference.

He rolled with her, still joined, and made a low satisfied sound in his throat as her thighs loosened. He gripped her hips, pulling her bottom back towards him. She pressed her face against the pillow, grateful for the privacy. She was melting from the inside out. Emotions shaking her, softening her throat, making her face quiver and vibrate.

The erotic pose had a strange effect on her. She saw it so clearly, the pride and fear inside her that objected to the incredible vulnerability of sex, but with Davy, there was no escape from vulnerability, in any sexual position. Her heart had no shields from him. It never would.

He moved inside her, a deep, sliding stroke right against the place where she so desperately needed it. She swayed back to meet him. The sounds were loud in the quiet room; their labored breathing, the wet, slapping sounds, the whimpers that she couldn't control. She had already yielded more than she ever wanted to, but it was too late now. He was inside the fortress, laying claim to anything he pleased.

His sensual, relentless rhythm drove her to the edge, and over.

She lay with her face hidden, struggling for breath. She'd never been with a man so skillful, so seductive. Let alone fallen madly in love with one. There was probably nothing he couldn't convince her to do.

Davy lifted his weight off her with a sigh, and rolled to the side. He shoved her hair off her face, and tried to pry it up from the pillow and make her look at him. “Margot?”

She shook her head and burrowed deeper.

“Oh, shit,” he muttered. “Don't tell me you're mad at me again. Damn it, Margot. Talk to me. What have I done now?”

She tried three times before she could make her voice work. As she started speaking, she realized she hadn't thought of anything to say.

“You always win,” was what came out, even though it wasn't exactly what she meant.

He flopped over onto his back with a sharp sigh, and covered his eyes with his hand. “We both won,” he said, his voice tight. “I cannot win this game unless you win it too. Why the fuck do you not get that?”

Because I'm in love with you, and you're not with me,
she wanted to scream, but that was a bomb that would explode in her face too.

Davy sat up on the bed, his broad, rigid back to her, radiating anger as he disposed of the condom.