Strung Out (Needles and Pins #1) (75 page)

His fingers splayed her cheek, his thumb brushing her lips in what she was learning was his prelude to a kiss. She knew the action well now after only a few times—knew all she had to do was turn her head if she objected. She didn’t.

The kiss was as sweet and tender as the one in the water had been. She wrapped her arms around him, arching until her chest was flush with his. Their tongues mated and mingled until the tingly sparklers firing through her began to flare and flame. They hadn’t broken the seal of their lips; their breath only heated the kiss more. His fingers curved to her upper arms, and this is where they remained despite the rest of her body longing for his touch.

She pulled apart, and they sucked in breaths, refueling their cells with oxygen. He seemed disappointed, and then something akin to shame filled his face. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to kiss you better, take your mind off things for a minute. And then I meant to stop. I know it’s not the right time with all that just went down―”

The raspy apology ceased abruptly when she pulled her shirt over her head and let it drop. His lips parted slightly, seemingly in surprise, but in one sweeping motion, he had his tee shirt off too, and it landed in the vicinity of hers. Their bodies collided again, and she whimpered as their skin melded together.

“Damn, Scar.” He muttered into her mouth. “I lose my mind when you make that sound.” And in response, she vocally rewarded his words with another hum of bliss, dragging an echoing groan from his throat. His hands roamed, up and down her back, fingers dipping beyond the waistband of her jeans until they met resistance of the denim snug against her ass. Wandering to her front, his hands and fingers continued his nomadic exploration, around her waist, flattening over her belly, thumb swirling into her navel, and dragging upward with agonizing slowness, before dipping into her bra and coaxing another octave from her. The slight friction of his callus-roughened fingertips fed the frenzied fire lapping at her body.

As for her explorations, she couldn’t get enough. The heat of his skin. Silk and steel. Ink and indention… Her fingertips pressed until they dipped into the ridges of his ribs, and she swept her touch down to the heat of his abdomen, and down more. In one deft movement, she freed the top button of his fly and then ripped the zipper down. The whispering grate of metal sent a jolt of heat like lightning between her legs.

She reached, greedy for her prize, but right when her nails lightly raked the front of his briefs, he captured her wrist. Containing it in the curve of his fingers, he wrapped his other arm around her waist and used his weight to ease her back until she reclined. Locking the imprisoned hand to the carpet, he stretched over her, bracing his weight as he dipped in for another kiss.

She was panting as loud as Rascal had been in the boat. Her skin was ablaze. A sheen of sweat cooled slightly in the wake of his hot breath as he kissed and tasted every inch of skin his hands had traversed. If she could have spoken, she would have begged harder than the occasional “please,” when his tongue licked and lavished in delicious ways. Gage’s tongue was as skilled in its devotion to her body as it was in each kiss. It blazed down her cleavage, darting beneath the strip of bra. With his free hand, he pushed at the material enough to tongue trace the ultra-erotic zone beneath each breast. Brushing with his lips in a side-to-side motion, he trailed down bit by bit, teasing the hyper-sensitive valley where her ribcage met. And then with one long lick back up, he coaxed another frantic whimper from her lips.

At long last, he released her hand he’d held hostage and unfastened the fly of her jeans. Wasting not a second of this freedom, she hooked her thumbs into the waistband and pushed them down. When they reached her knees, he swiftly dragged them the rest of the way, releasing her ankles from the tight hems and yanking the denim off.

He sat back for a moment, feasting those dark eyes appreciatively over her. Her bra had been pushed up out of the way, but not unhooked, and now, she released the front clasp.

“Really? It would have been that easy?” He let one of his smirks fly, but a glint of adulation lit his gaze as he took in the twin peaks and filled his hands with their goodness. “So beautiful… I guess you know that, though. You get to see ‘em every day.”

She felt her lips curve in response to his antics and then gasped, bowing up from the rug when he dropped back down to both elbows and again worshiped that proclaimed beauty with his teeth, tongue and lips—this time without the hindrances of lingerie.

She tried to ease the ache between her legs, wrapping a leg to his waist and rubbing her throbbing core against his open jeans. The zipper pull settled for a moment in the perfect place on her silk panties, and she sighed out a pleasured hum. He growled against her skin and released her long enough to shuck his jeans.

He’d just pushed them over his hips when he stalled. “Shit. I have to get a condom.” He pulled them back up and ordered sternly, “Don’t move.”

“You don’t have one in your wallet?” She’d slipped the billfold from his pocket and tossed it to the side when it had dared to get between her hands and his fine ass. Her neck craned, seeing the wallet right out of reach. But she was talking to his back. He was already across the room and then out of sight.

She thought about following despite his order to stay put. Now when he was no longer distracting her with desire, the bed sure sounded more comfy than the carpet. It only took a second, though, for the musing to derail, becoming a speculation of how many had been in that bed. She remained where she was.

He was soon back, and as his jeans came off, she mirrored the motion, removing her last scrap of clothing. His touch on her, now without that little barrier of silk, had her struggling to hold back a scream. He fused his lips to hers and explored this new territory as thoroughly as he had every inch of her skin. The tips of his rough fingers trailed over, caressed, and then after one last trace up her slit, slipped inside. One long digit plunged deeply, and as exquisite as it felt, her insides clenched, wanting more.

Was that me? Had I expelled that desperate scream?
He answered with a groan, and a second finger joined the first. This time a satisfied moan left her mouth.

“Open your eyes, Scar…”

She’d slipped inside a vortex of sensation without realizing her lids had drooped. At his quiet command, they flew open, finding his gaze inches from hers, staring into her soul. His thumb dropped, skimming over her most private lips, and then pushing past them. Without blinking, he held her captive look while caressing all around that sweet point of pleasure. She knew she was squirming, as he continued to finger fuck her. Instinctively her body worked to guide the touch of that elusive thumb, and maybe just as instinctively she held back a scream until he pressed—
ringing her bell
.

Only then did she subconsciously reward him with the crescendo of sound he’d plied from her body. He continued to strum, playing her as fervently as Claudine. Back and forth, around and again with his thumb. In and almost out, over and over with his long fingers.

Having been introduced to those skilled fingers in the shower around this time yesterday didn’t lessen the effect of his touch. In fact, it may have heightened every sense because she knew how exquisite the buildup and release was going to be. Thinking about our shower gave her a cognitive nudge, and she reached down, curving her fingers around what she’d deliriously deprived herself of last night. He groaned into her mouth and then cursed. His attentive touch fumbled for a half second when she slid her fingers down his silky steel length to the base and cupped the weight of his family jewels. She squeezed lightly, and another husky moan, mixed with a curse, filled their kiss. Curving her hand around him, she stroked.

Up. Down. Up down. Twist
. She remembered and mimicked. His rhythm from the night before was etched into her mind.

He countered her action with his own attention to her ‘tunnel of love.’ The night before, the stretch, twist, and finishing hook of his fingers had been her big bang moment. But this time with her attention divided, a shriek tore through her lips and then a sound of frustration.

“Gage…” And her next mumbled words had never,
ever
, before slipped unheeded through her lips. Dirty talk was something she had always forced on occasion to speed up getting a guy off. Until now, crude four letter words had never slipped out in groans and pleas. “…your cock… inside me now…”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Obeying, he rolled on the condom and then filled her in one smooth move. He watched astounded when she uttered his name again—this time as a scream—and immediately exploded. She trained her eyes on his, basking in the emotion just beyond the fringes of his surprise. When she wrapped tighter to him and urged him on, she swore she saw a flash of cocky male pride. But then they were rocking and rolling. And in no time, she was again as worked up as him, her breaths as short, her cries crazed…

“Damn, Scar…” He eased his weight up some. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to crush you…”

“Breathing is overrated.”

He grunted something that may have been a syllable of a chuckle. Rolling to his side, he pulled her with him. “Sorry…” His lips brushed her forehead. “Seriously, I was out for a few seconds. That was… intense…”

“Intense.” She agreed and couldn’t stop a giggle from bubbling up.

“What? I just can’t think of any words spectacular enough for that.”

“Me either.” She touched her lips to the slight scruff on his chin.

He reached between them, and when the condom was tied off, he seemed embarrassed when he gazed around and then reached for his discarded boxers and rolled it out of sight inside them before collapsing again. She understood. She couldn’t have stood and carried herself beyond this spot on the floor if the house had caught fire. His voice was listless, clearly sapped of strength when he whispered, “You asked why it wasn’t in my billfold.”

“Mmh hmm.” Her lips never parted when she answered.

“I took it out. Removed the temptation when I realized how crazy you were making me. Fuck. Every time I look around you’re in a teeny tiny swimsuit or those black shorts. Always prissing around being your sassy sweet self. I never put it back. Because I didn’t trust myself not to nail you in the heat of the moment.” He cuddled closer, one inked arm pleasantly weighting my breasts, and his voice dissolved to a mumble. “I wanted to date you. Proper. Instead of mauling you. But this thing with us has been crazy from the start.”

“Unpredictable.” She agreed, and although she was too languid to add any more to his train of thought, a caboose passed through her mind. Did no convenient condoms mean he had sworn off other women during the phase when the two of them realized their attraction but hadn’t yet decided to explore it?

“C
’mon.” He wasn’t sure if she had dozed or was simply sprawled against him, as wrung out as he was. “Let’s go to bed.” He smoothed a hand from her shoulder to her wrist and gently tugged as he rolled to his feet. She came up with him, as smoothly as if they’d choreographed the motion. Without waiting for her legs to straighten completely to a standing position, he scooped her up and stepped over the minefield of clothing as he headed into the hallway.

Her arms looped around his neck and her legs wrapped to his waist as naturally as if they’d done this lover’s walk for a lifetime. However, her tits smashing to his chest, brushing ever so slightly with each step was like nothing he’d ever known. And the heady scent of their time together inhaled with each breath he took was another nothing he’d ever known.

By the time he tugged the layers of bed linens open, bounced her gently to the mattress, and followed her down, he was hard again. Staking a knee between her thighs, he hovered over her, letting the tips of her tits dance in a tantalizing brush against his chest as he rubbed his lips in a back and forth motion over hers.

“Again?” He knew the word was more of a wheedled plea than a whispered question.

“Again.” She agreed, as he’d been ninety percent sure she would.