Picture Me Sexy (8 page)

Sam continued his sweet assault upon her throbbing nub, then upped the tension building inside her even more by slipping one long finger inside and rhythmically stroking her hot button.

She came hard.

The orgasm pinnacled, burst and sparkled through her, leaving twinkling trails of sensation like the dust from a falling star.

Sam milked every bit of pleasure he could from it, didn't stop his ministrations until the very last quiver contracted her muscles.

When Delaney finally caught her breath and her world tilted back into focus, she flung an arm over
her forehead and a sated chuckle bubbled up her throat.

“I've got three words for you,” she told him.

Sam settled himself at her side and idly fondled her breast. “You're the best?”

A dark giggle escaped. Oh, was he ever. “Without a doubt…but those weren't the three words I had in mind.”

“What were they?”

In one smooth movement, Delaney rolled over and crawled down his body. She took him in hand and made one slow, deliberate lap around the head of his penis. “Tit—” she licked from root to tip “—for—” then took him fully in her mouth and sucked hard “—tat.”

His guttural groan drew a smile across her lips.

 

T
HERE WAS SOMETHING
to be said for a detail-oriented woman, Sam thought, while Delaney tortured him with her tongue.

They were fastidiously thorough.

For instance, she hadn't left a single millimeter of his burning rod untouched. She'd been licking and sucking at him for the past thirty seconds and he already feared that one more tickle from the talented tongue was going to put him over the edge. And that simply wouldn't do.

He wanted to come inside her.

Sheathed in a condom or no, Sam had never allowed himself that luxury. He'd always—
always—
pulled out. The idea of spilling his seed into a woman had always been entirely too personal. Something too meaningful about leaving his genetic imprint in another human being, particularly a woman he wasn't interested in seeing again. He'd had a couple of serious relationships over the years, but he'd still always felt the same caution, had never been tempted.

But he was with her.

When he'd kissed her…

Sam couldn't even begin to describe the absolute perfection of that moment. Every hair on his body had stood on end and curious whirling sensation had spun behind his navel, seemingly pulling him into a vortex of all that would ever be right with his world. His future, he'd realized with sudden clarity…and then he'd embraced the inevitable—the “quickening”—and now he was going to make her his.

It was as simple and as complicated as that.

Delaney pulled him more deeply into her mouth, curled her tongue around him in the most orgasm-provoking fashion. All that moonbeam hair lay pooled over his thighs, slithered arousingly as she worked him around her hot, talented mouth. He'd never wanted a woman more, never wanted to plant himself between a set of thighs more. The act transcended the physical—he had to have her.

Now.

Sam pulled her up. “Enough.”

He heard her tsk under her breath, could imagine that feline grin. She laid down next to him once
more, the soft globe of her breast resting against his side. “If you're sure.”

“I'm sure.”

She stretched languidly. “Do you have something else in mind?”

Sam snagged a condom from the nightstand, tore into the foil pack with his teeth. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

“Tell me.”

He withdrew the condom and quickly rolled it into place, then moved into position between her spread thighs. His tip nudged at her entrance. Delaney's warm hands moved over his shoulders, down his back and landed on the twin mounds of his ass. She squeezed, making him move toward her.

Sam pulled a breath in through clenched teeth. “I can do better than that—I can show you.”

He slowly slid into her, buried himself to the hilt.

Nothing in his life—not even their life-altering first kiss—could have prepared him for the surge of energy that engulfed him. He shuddered violently, every muscle went rigid, and he set his jaw against the onslaught of tingling power flooding through him. It was as though the last tumbler in a lock had clicked into place, simultaneously opening a whole new world to him and forever binding him to her. It was madness and salvation all rolled into one.

Delaney purred low in her throat and rocked those wonderful hips against him, dragging him farther into her heat. Sam gritted his teeth, wanting to pro
long and savor the experience and, though he'd never had a problem controlling his impulses, he knew that he didn't have a prayer of exercising any of those tactics with her.

Quite honestly, it was nothing short of a damned miracle that he hadn't come the minute he felt her sweet heat close around him. Still, he'd never been a selfish lover and he didn't plan to start now.

Sam withdrew, then plunged back into her once more, nudged deep. Back and forth, a little harder, a little faster. Long deep thrusts designed to drive them both to the brink. Her body arched to meet his, a perfect rhythm. Soft sighs, greedy moans, and finally the sound he'd been waiting for—a desperate whimper. Music to his ears.

Sam felt the first kindle of her impending release as her muscles clamped greedily around his swollen rod. Delaney slid those small, capable hands down his back and over his ass, felt her clutch him even harder, driving him more deeply into her. She met him thrust for thrust, rocked frantically against him. Thrashed and raced for what they both desperately wanted—release. Her breath came in short, hard puffs, sweet urgent mewls and then a long scream of release issued from her mouth and her entire body went tight with tension.

Her muscles fisted around him, alternately tightened and released and the combined sensations sent Sam flying right over the edge with her. The climax roared through him, brought the edge of darkness
folding around him. He came hard, shook violently. He set his jaw against the exquisite, unparalleled pleasure, dug his toes into the mattress and lodged himself firmly—deeply—inside of her while the last shimmers of bright release rippled through him.

He could spend the rest of his life here, Sam realized with no small amount of trepidation. Could spend the rest of his life dallying between her thighs.

When the last tremor faded, he shifted his weight to the side and rolled her with him, careful to keep their bodies joined. For reasons he didn't care to explore, he didn't want to break that special connection. Another first, Sam thought.

A shadow moved from in front of the moon, momentarily illuminating her face. Delaney's eyes were closed in sublime satisfaction, her slightly swollen lips curled into a sated grin. One delectable breast peeked from beneath the sheet, a puff of pink cream nestled on top of a pearly mound. All that silky hair lay spread over her shoulders, spilled over the pillow, like liquid moonbeams.

Sam's chest grew tight with some unnamed emotion and he traced the curve of her delicate cheek with his finger. Still smiling, she turned slowly to look at him through lowered lashes, the gesture one of the most provocative he'd ever seen. She tunneled her fingers through his hair and offered her lips up for another slow, deep kiss, then gently rolled him over, sheathed him again, and straddled him. He
hardened inside her, another singularly spectacular sensation.

Delaney leaned down and flicked her tongue over his nipple, lightly bit the small nub, snatching the breath from his lungs. She rocked sinuously on top of him, played at his breast with her mouth and tortured the other one with her hand. He'd never seen anything so erotic in his life, never had any woman so thoroughly seduce him.

“Do you know what this is?” she asked, her voice a husky purr.

She tightened around him, rocked her bottom up and down, creating a delicious draw and drag between their joined bodies. “Wh-what?” Sam managed.

“Tit for tat again, baby. Are you up for it?”

Was he up? If he was any more
up,
he'd explode. Sam chuckled, anchored his hands on her delectable hips and thrust deeply into her. “Oh, I'm up for it, all right.”

And they had all night. Somehow Sam knew that would never be enough.

S
TILL WINDED
, D
ELANEY
collapsed against Sam's chest and enjoyed the last twinges of another thigh-melting climax. Warm fizzies bubbled through her and an occasional pulse of belated pleasure made her breath hitch in her throat. Her breasts still felt deliciously heavy pressed against his naked chest and, though she'd came so many times that she'd lost count, she knew were he to so much as slide a clever finger over her still-throbbing clit, she'd undoubtedly come again. The perpetually sated smile she'd worn all night brightened even more.

Sam Martelli had the magic touch.

Delaney had listened to that silk-on-velvet rasp all night—honestly, he could make a simple phrase like “pass the salt” sexy with that voice of his—and had done whatever he'd asked her to do.

Without the merest hesitation.

It was as though her body hadn't been hers, but his to manipulate and explore, and by extension, she'd held that same power over him. She'd done things tonight with Sam that she'd never done with another living soul. There wasn't a single inch of her body that he hadn't inspected, a single inch that he
hadn't claimed, caressed, or tasted. The tender skin between her toes, the backs of her knees, even her elbows.

Sex with Sam was a full-body experience. He didn't simply hit the high spots and skip to the grand finale. Oh, no. He was painstakingly slow and thorough, seemed to make a game out of drawing out the pleasure. He'd give her just enough to drive her mad—to make her beg—then he'd pull back and start the whole frustratingly wonderful process all over again. He was a true hedonist, a master of seduction, a lover beyond compare. Delaney sighed and settled more comfortably against him.

He'd been perfect.

She'd made a thorough inspection of every gloriously proportioned inch of him. While Sam seemed to take his pleasure by drawing hers out, Delaney had found hers in seeing how quickly she could make him lose it, how quickly she could make him lose that tight-fisted sensual control and morph into the hard, fast, primal lover that bordered just shy of the primitive. He was the perfect combination of tender and wild, of gentle and savage, and he brought out those impulses in her as well—
her
wild side.

Remembered heat burned through her once more. Delaney couldn't explain the unexplainable, didn't know just what exactly had made her shed her inhibitions and reservations, what exactly had made her take the step that she'd taken tonight. Probably the
perfect combination of circumstances—the cover of ultimate darkness and a hotter than hot guy.

But she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she'd never regret it. This night had been flawless, without a single blemish, and she was suddenly hit with the overwhelming urge to get out and preserve the memory before reality could intrude and screw it up.

Like it always did.

Sam stirred beneath her. “Sounds like you're thinking,” he said huskily.

Delaney chuckled softly. “How does thinking sound?”

He drew lazy circles on her shoulder. “It's quiet.”

“Funny.” She smiled against his chest. “I'd pegged you as a man who could appreciate quiet.”

It was his turn to chuckle. The deep, rumbling sound vibrated something inside her chest. “You pegged me right.” His fingers inched down and gently brushed the side of her breast, causing the slightest catch in her breathing. “But there is a time and place for everything—including quiet—and this is not it.”

Astonishingly, lust kindled again. “Hmm. Is that right? Then what time would it be?”

“Time for this.” Without warning, Sam rolled her onto her back and swiftly filled her. Her mouth opened in a silent gasp and her body instantly accommodated, immediately stretched and flexed around him. With a greedy growl, she rocked her
hips beneath him, clamped her feminine muscles until she heard the breath hiss through his clenched teeth.

“You p-play dirty,” he stammered brokenly.

She coupled the clamp with a hard, provocative arch. “Dirty…works for…me.”

Curiously, it never had before, but this seemed to be a night for firsts and Sam and hot, gritty sex just felt right.

Sam withdrew and plunged forcefully into her. “Is that right?”

God, that felt wonderful. Her eyes fluttered shut and all but rolled back in her head. Delaney slid her palms over his chest, bit back a possessive moan and lightly pinched his nipples. She smiled when he shuddered.

“That's right,” she told him, emboldened. “Does dirty work for you?”

A strangled laugh bubbled up his throat. “Oh, it works for me. Allow me to give you a little demonstration….”

Sam drove brutally into her, harder and harder, faster and faster. Her tingling breasts jiggled on her chest, absorbing the frantic force of his smooth, steely thrusts. Delaney pulled her legs back and anchored them higher around his waist, simultaneously pulling him deeper into her body and creating an even better friction against her engorged mound. With each furious thrust, his testicles slapped against
her aching skin, a singularly intense sensation that caused another steady quake to build inside her.

Helpless, broken sounds slipped past her lips and every nerve ending she possessed screamed with tension. He pushed and pushed, hammered into her until finally—blessedly—the volcano of need he'd forged inside her erupted, sending delicious streams of molten heat through her seemingly boneless limbs.

One, two, three more deep thrusts and, with a roar of satisfaction that made her skin prickle, his back arched in release and he collapsed on top of her. He pressed a lingering kiss to the side of her neck, and rolled onto his side, bringing her with him as he found a comfortable position.

The sound of their labored breathing broke the silence, along with an occasional wail of a siren. The sweet, musky scent of great sex hung in the air. The sheets were a tangled mass at the bottom of the bed, kicked aside and forgotten sometime during the night.

Another first, because even with the darkness, she'd always been too self-conscious, felt too exposed to make love anywhere but under the sheets. Delaney had no idea where her teddy was and amazingly, right at this moment, she didn't care. She'd just had the hands-down bar-none best orgasm she'd ever experienced and she was presently sprawled wickedly naked next to the sex-god that had given it to her…and he was wickedly naked, too. She smiled
against his chest. It just didn't get any better than this.

A faint buzz sounded followed by a flood of light as the power suddenly came back on. Otis's “Try A Little Tenderness” filled the silence. The light seemed blindingly bright after hours of darkness and, since they'd used this set last, all of the camera lights were positioned around the bed, illuminating them even more.

Her brain seized. Delaney felt trapped in a waking nightmare.

From the dimmest recesses of her mind, she heard Sam grunt, felt him shift beside her. It took Delaney less than a nanosecond to comprehend the gravity of the situation and it took her even less time to become hopelessly, miserably self-conscious and react.

While any other woman might have simply reached down and calmly snagged a sheet, Delaney bolted from Sam's side, snatched the sheet and hurriedly dragged it up over her body. She felt like the proverbial ravished virgin, which was ludicrous given the fact that she'd just enthusiastically committed acts of sexual depravity that would give a seasoned hooker a run for her money. She felt a blush start at the tip of her toes and squirmed miserably as it speedily raced to her hairline.

“Power's back on,” Sam said casually. If she hadn't been so damned mortified, she might have thought his penchant for stating the obvious less an
noying this time, might have even found it a little endearing.

Presently, she didn't.

Delaney squeezed her eyes tightly shut. “Yes, it is.” She swallowed. “Would you mind finding my teddy?”

She felt his stare. “Er…sure.”

Sam riffled around for interminable minutes under the covers until he finally located the rumpled nightie and handed it to her.

“I'm going to go and make sure that everything is running, make sure none of the breakers tripped when they cut the power back on.”

That keen perception again, Delaney noted, eternally thankful. She nodded and accidentally caught his gaze…then wished she hadn't.

Sam pre-sex was incredible. Sam post-sex was simply out of this world.

Despite the fact that she was miserably aware of herself, that her worst fear had been realized—hell, they'd all but had a spotlight thrown on them, for pity's sake. Despite the fact that she was sexually sated, exhausted and satisfied, one look at him negated every bit of that knowledge and the desire she'd felt when she first saw him came rushing back tenfold.

Those heavy-lidded eyes were even more slumberous, more compelling, and his dark brown hair was all mussed and sexy. That in and of itself was enough, but there was more….

He was naked.

And not the least bit self-conscious about it.

Delaney knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that if he'd been dressed in an Armani suit, he couldn't have looked any more confident and at ease. Later, when she wasn't drinking in the very sight of him, she'd envy him that. But right now she didn't, wouldn't allow herself the time. Right now, an exquisite piece of eye candy had landed in her line of vision and Delaney planned to devour it with her gaze. When she'd been mapping his body with her hands, she'd drawn an accurate picture in her mind, but that picture hadn't done the reality of him justice.

Sam Martelli was six and a half feet of perfectly honed male. Her gaze drifted over his impossibly wide shoulders, over his splendidly sculpted chest and taut abs, and then lower still to where twin ropes of muscle bisected his belly and inexplicably drew the eye below his flat navel. Delaney swallowed tightly, and forced herself to look away. Her gaze bounced back up to his and a glimmer of humor danced in dark eyes.

“I'll be back in a minute,” he said, then turned and walked casually out of the room. Another correct assumption, Delaney decided as her gaze lingered on the twin muscles of his rear—his ass was perfect as well.

Blinking out a lust-induced stupor, Delaney shrugged into the wrinkled teddy and quickly found a bathroom. Necessary business finished, she paused
to look in the mirror. One look at her well-loved reflection made her alternately wince and then smile. She looked a wreck—her hair was mussed, her lips swollen, and her chin bore the definite red of whisker burn. Her makeup had worn off hours ago and—she leaned closer to the mirror—if she wasn't mistaken a small love-bite marred her neck. Her first-ever hickey, Delaney realized with a spurt of surprised delight.

Her smiling lips suddenly flattened. Ugh, she was pathetic. This was what she'd looked like when the lights had flashed back on. While she'd been staring at Sam's perfectly proportioned naked body, he'd been looking at this. Honestly, she looked like she'd been in a fight with a mattress—and lost. The burn of humiliation scalded her cheeks and the woefully familiar rush of self-consciousness made her shoulders droop with defeat.

She'd known this night had been too good to be true, had known if she lingered something horrible would happen to ruin it. The blind panic she'd felt when all of those lights had suddenly come on…Delaney swore, felt a lump form in her throat, and swore again.

Granted, she'd come a long way tonight. She'd broken through a few boundaries and had had the very best sex of her life. But she obviously still had a long way to go before she'd be able to truly conquer her modesty. Baby steps, Delaney told herself. Little victories. The damage had been done, there
was nothing more to do now than save face. Clearly a swift but grand exit was in order.

With that thought in mind, Delaney hurriedly found the dressing room, donned her clothes and just as hurriedly repacked her garment bag. She took a couple of seconds to repair her face. After a little powder, a little lipstick and a kiss of chocolate to settle her nerves, she squared her shoulders and returned to the living room to face Sam.

Curiously, she'd never been so nervous in all her life. Her belly quaked and her mouth had gone inexplicably dry. She'd been dubbed one of the most hard-nosed businesswomen of the South, and yet the idea of facing him after all that they'd done to each other tonight instilled a dart of panic right into her racing heart.

Sam turned when he heard her enter the room, and something about that lazy smile that leapt to his lips made her toes curl and her palms itch. He'd taken the time to pull on a pair of lounge pants, but hadn't bothered with a shirt.

“Any breakers tripped?” she asked for want of anything better to say.

“Nah, all was well.” He looked her up and down and Delaney got the distinct impression that he'd just mentally removed every stitch of her clothing. “You're dressed, I see.”

“Yeah.” Delaney tucked her hair behind her ear and gestured toward the elevator. “I, uh, need to get home.” She managed to look at him and forced a
note of delight into her tone. “Got an early morning.”

Something shifted in his too perceptive gaze. “Didn't you take off for the rest of the week?”

Shit. “Er…yeah, but I still have things to do.” And he knew precisely what they were because she'd told him. Still, she didn't have to make excuses for leaving. She wanted to go home. Why did she feel so compelled to explain herself? That was something the old doormat Delaney Walker would do, not the new and improved version.

Delaney withdrew a check from her purse and handed it to him. “Mail me the proofs. I'm really looking forward to seeing them.”

For a moment, he looked like she'd slapped him, but then the expression vanished so quickly she was inclined to believe she'd imagined it.

“As the lady wishes,” he finally said and she thought she detected a slight note of mockery in his tone. He lifted her bag from the floor at her feet. “Come on. I'll walk you down.”