Rhyannon Byrd - Waiting For It (7 page)

He cleared his throat, took a long sip of his wine, and tried again. “All right. Let’s talk about why you weren’t wet.”

She groaned long and low, slinking down further in her chair. “Do we have to? It’s bad enough even telling you this stuff, Jake. Why do we have go into detail?”

Because I’m a sick bastard who can’t get off enough on knowing that your sex life was hell, he thought with a vicious curse. To Taylor, he simply said, “Because I just have to know, all right?”

She shrugged in response, trying to pull her hand loose from his, but he wasn’t letting go. Instead, he grabbed the other one, holding both beneath the table, hidden from view by the white and red checked tablecloth. His thumbs drew small, lazy circles into her soft palms as he scooted his chair closer. He didn’t stop until his knees practically bracketed her hips and he could reach what he wanted. Then he let go of her hands and placed his rough palms on the tops of her slender thighs.

She jumped and grabbed at his thick wrists, but was no match for his strength. She couldn’t even wrap her hands around them, much less budge him.

“What are you doing?” she asked in a horrified whisper, her eyes darting around to make sure no one

was paying them any attention.

“Relax, Taylor.” He kneaded the firm muscles beneath his palms, edging higher and higher until his  fingertips grazed the crease of her hip and pubic bone. She went absolutely stock-still—wasn’t even  breathing. “Take a deep breath and tell me why you didn’t get wet when he fucked you.”

She wasn’t having any trouble getting wet right now. “Because he wasn’t you,” she blurted before she was able to stop the words. He was frying her brain and she was making a complete fool of herself.  Why did these things keep flying out of her mouth? “I mean, uh—”

“No, your first answer was just fine, babe.” His hands tightened and his own breathing became deeper.  Slow and deep and heavy. “Did he try to get you hot? Did he always play with your cunt before he  fucked you? Did he finger you first?”

Loud flaming fire engine red. God, she blushed so bright it practically blinded him.

“Jaaaake,” she groaned.

“Answer me, Taylor.”

She stopped staring at the tabletop and turned her gaze back up to his.

Her big brown eyes were like a window into her soul. They shone as black as obsidian, sparked with fire, as if they too had been born from the belly of a raging volcano. Her nostrils flared and her teeth bit into that pouty lower lip that he wanted to bite and suck and feel all over his body.

“Yeah, I guess,” she said tightly, as if the words were being pulled out of her.

“With one or two or three?”

Her eyes darted around the restaurant again. “One or two or three what?” she practically snarled, not quite able to follow the thread of the conversation with his fingers playing dangerously close to her very empty, very aching, very wet pussy.

A squeeze of his hands brought her gaze back to his. “Fingers, Taylor. How many fingers did he fuck you with?”

She looked curiously intrigued by the question. Her breath was starting to pant just that little bit out of

control, her arousal growing right before his eyes. “Ooone,” she shivered, licking her lips. “Just one.”

Well, hell, no wonder it had hurt. She’d never really been prepared—hadn’t been stretched to make room so she could enjoy herself. Not that she could’ve enjoyed herself with Mitch. No, her pleasure was going to be all for him. Always with him. “And what about oral sex?”

Her expression showed equal parts fascination and horror. “What about it?”

His voice went tight. “You didn’t even get dripping when he went down on you?”

She opened her mouth to answer at the same time he pushed his thumbs between her tightly clenched thighs, brushing against the soft mound of her curls, just above her clit. A ragged, shuddering moan escaped instead. She swallowed, tried again. “He, um, I mean we never did anything like that. Mitch was never really all that interested in foreplay—at least not with me.”

She looked up at him, her eyes dark and hungry, as if she were thinking about giving him head. Maybe imagining having his own face shoved between her legs while he sucked on her pussy. God, he could sixty-nine with her for days on end and never get his fill.

“Do you, um, like doing that?” she whispered, amazed she was asking him such an intimate question.

His thumbs pressed lower, squeezing against either side of that hard, pulsing little bud. He wanted to take it between his lips and flick it with his tongue, over and over and over. “I’m going to love doing it with you. We’re going to do everything there is, Taylor. Every sweet little inch of your body is going to be mine. You want that, don’t you?” he demanded. “You want it just as badly as I do.”

Man, his voice sounded like something you’d hear coming out of a werewolf in some horror flick. All deep and growling and raspy. He was so turned on he was amazed he hadn’t shot his load in his pants or busted through his fly—yet.

Her lips trembled. Her eyes hazed. “What—what are you doing to me?” Her nails bit into the skin of his wrists, but instead of pushing him away, she was holding him to her, pressing him down for more.  “Oh, God, what are you doing?”

Sandy was going to get one helluva fat tip for giving them this private corner hidden from everyone’s view. Taking advantage of their secluded surroundings, Jake stroked his thumbs closer, pressed harder, squeezing. “Haven’t you ever touched your clit like this, Taylor? Pressed down right here and made yourself come?”

She whimpered like she was in pain, but he knew it was sexual agony she suffered, not physical. He could smell the sweet, musky scent of her arousal and wanted to delve lower, deeper, where he knew she’d be dripping with juices for him, creaming herself. But he didn’t trust himself. He’d have her laid out on the table with his face shoved in her cunt before he knew what hit him, drinking her down his throat like fine wine, eating his fill.

“I—” Her eyes squeezed shut, her bottom lifting off her chair, trying to get more. “I’ve tried, but it’s  never felt like this,” she groaned in a hoarse whisper, gritting her teeth against the urge to scream. “I  thought there must be something wrong and I—Oh, God—I’m on fire!”

“You’re pure fucking dynamite, sweetheart.” And it was true. Her natural sensuality must’ve scared  the hell out of Mitch. He hadn’t been man enough to handle it, not to mention the fact he’d been the  wrong man!

Her thighs started shifting, moving apart to allow him more room to explore, and Jake knew it was far past time to get her the hell out of there. Her eyes were wide now, glazed, as if she were on the verge of discovering something wonderful. Any second now she was going to come, but he wanted her alone when she did. He wanted to be able to taste her cream on his tongue. Wanted her to be able to scream with it and lose control. He wanted it all, every little action and reaction. Every little detail and moment with her for the rest of his life.

He just had one more question, but first he withdrew his thumbs and soothed her restless reaction with a gentle sweep across the tops of her legs. He couldn’t think about the fact they were parted and she was wet or he’d be under the table and lapping her up without giving a damn who could see.

At the loss of his touch, she looked like someone had just told her she had only seconds to live. For one horrified moment, he thought she might even start to cry, but she took a ragged breath, and he could only admire the way she went straight and regal before him, the Faerie Queen in all her glory.  She didn’t ask why he stopped, but he told her anyway. “We need to get the hell outta here. My hotel, okay? Right now.”

She threaded her fingers through her long hair, still struggling with her breathing. “Uh, yeah. Okay.”

He signaled for the check. Before Sandy came back around the corner, he had that last question to ask.

“One more question, sweetheart.”

Her eyes flew to his. “We’ve established that Mitch didn’t fuck you worth shit. But what about the others?”

Her brow creased. “What others?”

Ah hell, that was what he thought. “You’ve never gone to bed with anyone else, have you?” he pressed, needing to know.

“Well, no,” she said carefully, as if he should’ve been able to figure it out for himself. “I didn’t see the

point since the only man I, um, wanted wasn’t here.”

God help him.

Chapter 6

The instant the door clicked shut behind them, her bags were tossed into the nearest corner and Jake was all over her. One second she was standing in the shadowy moonlight spilling through the curtains, staring at the king-sized bed already turned down fresh for the night, and in the next her feet weren’t

even touching the floor.

He trembled as he lifted her, her back to his front, his steel-roped arms binding around her, holding her to him. Taylor’s head fell back against his left shoulder, her body arching back against his own in offering. With his right arm securing her waist, his left hand snaked across her chest so he could fill his palm with the soft swell of her perfect breast.

Then he stopped.

Jake just held her—savored her.

He enjoyed the moment of the intense, soul-deep satisfaction of finally having the woman he loved right where he wanted her. He buried his face between her neck and shoulder, breathing in the sensual, erotic scent of her skin. Not perfume—just Taylor—fresh and clean and utterly feminine. He wanted to smell that scent all over his body. Wanted to shove his fingers inside of her and feel the musk-sweet moisture he could smell in the air coating his skin.

Knowing he wasn’t going to be able to take this as slow as he wanted, Jake nudged the aching mass of his cock against her sweet ass and was rewarded by a rough, ragged moan. Thank God. She sounded as desperate as he was—a good thing considering his legendary control wasn’t worth shit with this woman. She smashed it to pieces. Turned him into a crazed, pounding beast that wanted nothing more than to shove his cock so far up her cunt she could taste it at the back of her throat.

Taking a deep breath, he prayed for some shred of patience. They’d only have this one first time, damn it, and he wanted it to be perfect for her. He wanted her to come till it hurt.

“God, Taylor.” The words were rough, his breathing already fractured. His fingers squeezed around  the soft mound of her breast, rubbing the taut bud of her nipple against his palm. “I feel like I’m gonna  explode and I haven’t even gotten in you yet.”

She shocked the hell out of him when her hand reached between them and grabbed hold of his cock through the front of his pants. Tiny explosions of light and color swam before his eyes. Then she squeezed, stroking him through the restricting fabric, and he had to grit his teeth against the instant, blinding urge to come.

This was insane. How did she do it, making him this crazed, when sex had long ago become such a jaded pastime? Something he could go through the motions of—taking what he needed—without ever letting it dig beneath the surface of his skin. Taylor was already so much a part of him, it was as if his electrified senses were experiencing both the rush of pleasure she took from him, as well as that which she gave.

Her thumb reached just beneath the waistband, right behind the top button, and there was the straining head of his cock. She pressed, stroking the broad tip, and Jake jerked as he felt a burst of pre-cum stream from the slit. “Damn it,” he growled, wondering if he was about to embarrass himself. “What in the hell are you doing?”

The low, husky voice that answered didn’t sound like his Taylor.

“Do you really have to ask?” she moaned, loving the hot, hard feel of him. She wet her thumb with his  moisture and moved it around the wide head, fascinated with his dimensions, losing herself in the  moment.

“If you don’t stop that, I’m gonna come.”

Taylor turned in his arms, pressing close, molding their bodies together. “Good,” she said with a wonderfully wicked, playful smile, nipping at his chin. “I want you to, Jake. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more.”

Jake grabbed her hand on its way back inside his pants, securing both her wrists as he lifted her arms high above her head. “Slow down!”

He winced at the harsh sound of his voice, but she was pushing him, and there was nowhere else to go but right over the edge. And he was terrified that if he completely lost it, he might end up scaring the hell out of her.

Taylor looked up at her captured wrists, and then snapped her angry glare back on him. “I thought this was what you wanted,” she all but growled.

His jaw worked as he struggled to stay calm—to stay in control. “To make love to you—yes! But if you start going all wild on me, I’m gonna have your heels behind your ears and my cock crammed up to your fucking eyeballs before you can so much as blink.”

She struggled to draw her hands free, high cheekbones slashed with color. “I thought that’s what you wanted!”

Jake closed his eyes on a sharp look of pain, then opened them and backed her up until her legs hit the bed and she felt herself being pushed down onto her back. He loomed over her, so big and tall and wide that she felt dwarfed by his powerful size.

“Yes,” he hissed through his teeth, “that’s exactly what I want. I want to fuck your little cunt so hard  you can’t walk straight for a week, Taylor. And that’s only for starters! But I was trying to be gentle  with you—at least for our first time!”