The Sweet Under His Skin (33 page)

No, there was no show here. He was as wanting of her as she was of him. That felt good. That felt so damn good it almost made her stop. She kept stroking him like that, his hips moving in a counter-motion, his breath hitching. He moaned her name, moaned things like "Perfect," "fuck, Arielle," and "Oh Christ." She loved hearing it, her own heart rate increased as his arousal did.

"Wait," it came as a hoarse plea, his hand grasping her wrist. She stopped the motion, but he didn't pull her hand away right away. "Arielle," he whispered, and she brought her eyes up to his, feeling herself smile at the heat she saw in that gaze. "Fuck, that smile," he mumbled, dropping his hand from her wrist and closing it softly around her throat, kissing her deep, hard.

She stroked at him more, but he let go of her to pull her hand away, still kissing her, his weight and warmth falling into the cradle of her arms and legs, hand returning to her neck. She couldn't move away from that kiss if she wanted to. She flung her legs around his waist, the heat of his arousal on her belly, the warmth of his kiss growing the ache between her legs, the need to have him fill her was urgent.

"Quentin," she pleaded on a whisper against his lips. "Make love to me, please."

He chuckled, the sound again causing a quiver in deep, dark places, answering with "That's what I'm doing, babe."

Her heart set off at that, racing and floating while he brought those kisses down her neck, across her collarbone, and down to the scar tissue of her left breast. Part of her brain panicked, but her skin was incredibly sensitive as his stubble scraped along the smooth planes of her chest, his lips causing slight trembles with each kiss. If anyone had told Arielle her scar tissue would be an erogenous zone she would have told them they were insane. But as Quentin kissed, caressed and worshipped every ridge and valley Arielle could have wept for how beautiful it made her feel. Her hands were in his soft hair, keeping him in place, and he obliged with great eagerness.

His other hand went to her whole breast, rolling her nipple, and Arielle gasped at the combination. She moved her hips against him without knowing what she was doing, she was lost to sensation.

Arielle's skin was blazing, her head felt light, and her desperation was painful. As though he knew when she was at the point of agony, he dropped kisses further down her stomach, parted her legs further, then closed his mouth on her clit. In exquisite relief Arielle groaned, and it was loud, but she covered her mouth as her back bowed, the orgasm over almost before it began. But it was spectacular, all she saw was white light.

"Oh God," she gasped, panting hard. "Oh my God."

Quentin was easing his way back over her, his chuckle completely negating the relief she'd just experienced. "Babe, you are so good for my ego. Honest to Christ."

She didn't need jokes. She grasped his face, pulling him closer to kiss, trying to maneuver his hips into hers. "Wait, babe," he whispered gently. "Just a second."

"No—"

"Arielle, I swear. I'm making love to you tonight, I just need to get something." His tone was overly-gentle. They were both remembering the last time they'd tried this.

"Okay," she whispered back, the bed springing up as he was once again gone to the shadows. She heard a foil package tear and felt almost embarrassed. Thank God one of them was thinking straight.

The break did nothing to curb her desires. The second he was back in reaching distance Arielle had her arms around Quentin's shoulders, pulling him onto her and kissing him with all she had; lips, tongue, teeth, all of it. For his part, talking was done. He kissed her back, winding one arm around her lower back. Arielle's thighs gripped his ribs in anticipation.

He brought his face up, making her open her eyes, worried something else was going to get in the way now. But he was just looking at her, head tilted in thought, lips parted as though he would say something if the moment struck him. His thumb passed down her cheek, eyes trailing down her face then back up to her eyes again.

"Can't think of a single damn thing I've wanted this much," he muttered absently.

She had no answer for that. "Quentin—"

"Christ you're beautiful. I don't think I deserve this."

She smiled. "Please," it came out as a plea.

"Good thing I'm selfish," he said, his lips curving in his full, honest smile that made his eyes crinkle. She felt it in her toes and everywhere north of them. The smile faltered, just a bit, as his eyes met hers again. "You're under my skin, babe," he said almost wistfully.

Now when she whispered "Quentin" it was completely different, she had no idea how to properly reply to that, something so raw and revealing. She knew he didn't throw sentiment around, he didn't have to. "You're under mine," she whispered back. It was the truth.

His mouth crushed hers, the heat of this kiss lustful yes, but there was something else in it, too. Something that made her heart swell as his hips moved forward, joining them completely on one merciless thrust, causing her nails to dig into his shoulders as she cried out, the sound swallowed by his mouth.

She was smaller than him, weaker than him, but she felt anything but helpless; as she held him inside it was him that trembled, not her.

Jesus. Quentin had to pause, hold his breath, force himself to stay still for a minute. Christ, this was Arielle and he's just slammed it into her like she was any other crawler. Her whimper made him feel like an ass.

He'd expected her to be tight. He hadn't expected absolutely fucking perfection. And not just the part he was buried in, all of her. Her soft stomach and chest under him, her legs wrapped around him, her arms on his shoulders. Her mouth breathing against his, hot and sweet and almost lethal.

"Are you okay?" He had to ask it. If he hurt her he swore he'd hurt himself worse.

"Yes," she whispered, and the desperation in her voice had to be his wishful thinking.

"You sure?"

"Quentin," she gasped, legs opening more, giving him room to sink in another half an inch.

"Arielle," he groaned, head falling to her collarbone. "Fuck." Shit, now he was cursing in her bed. What a fucking idiot.

"Quentin," she repeated softly, playing with his hair. "I want this, I do. Please…please don't stop."

He raised his head, brushing his lips to hers. "I'm not stopping. It would take a lot to stop me, babe. I just need a minute."

"You do?"

He brought his hand to her throat again. "Jesus, Arielle. You feel so good."

"You do, too," she returned after a pause, and this awkward moment was so not how he imagined this going the many times he daydreamed about it.

He caught her eyes again. In the dim but stark moonlight they flashed, and he rolled his hips away then back into her, catching how her jaw opened, not relaxed, just an honest reaction. Her body had stopped tightening against him, and he moved again.

"Quentin," she gasped, eyes closing.

He knew he couldn't just pound into her until he got off. And he cursed himself out for spending so much time doing just that with the others. He had to go back to wanting to please the woman he was with. He knew how it was done, he just had to revisit the steps.

When her back arched, he brought his hand to her breast, teasing at her nipple. Her body quivered under and around him and he stroked into her again, rewarded with a moan. She turned her head towards him and he kissed her. That got another moan.

Christ, for someone who didn't know how to ask for what she wanted, she was telling him exactly what to do with her body. With just the slightest increase to his range of movement she bit her lip and groaned but it was soft. He wondered why she was trying to be quiet.

"We're alone," he reminded her, kissing her lips, then her jaw. "Let it out, Arielle."

He rolled his hips again, nearly pulling out all the way before easing back inside. This time she cried out, back arching into him. He didn't wait before doing it again, and her legs twitched along his sides. Jesus, she couldn't possibly be close already. There was no way.

He continued that deliberate pace, and she met his every push with a gasp or his name. When she started tilting her hips against him he nearly lost it, sliding his hands under her back and gripping both of her shoulders to keep her in place while he fell back in love with the feel of her on every thrust.

Each time he did it he hit the end of her, and she liked it. She moaned, whimpered, dug her nails into his lower back, urging him deeper, all the while still kissing him and sucking his tongue from his mouth when he got distracted by the feeling of her small, thin body completely controlling his. The realization she'd come completely undone, hit him like electricity. She was enjoying it. She was really, really enjoying it. Out-of-her-mind enjoying it. She likely had no idea she was making these sounds. He was only going to be able to keep this up a little while longer; she had him far too amped.

Time to get serious.

He rose up on his arms, and without hesitation Arielle dropped her legs and hitched her feet around his knees. The angle was perfect. It made him grunt as he slid into her, looking down on her face and how her lovely neck was arched back. She was panting, eyes on him, waiting.

Quentin wrapped a hand over her throat gently. It wasn't to squeeze, he just liked feeling how her pulse was racing.

With minimal effort he thrust into her, watching her body writhe and fall under him. He did it again and she met the movement. With a grunt he gave over, pushing against her, pace increased, her body open and unable to keep him out.

It took all of twenty seconds. Her back arched sharply and she made the most lovely, enthusiastic sound of female release he'd ever heard in his life. All he could concentrate on was her face; her eyes pinned to his, her mouth open as she cried out then fought for breath, the ease and relaxation in her expression telling him exactly how good it had felt. Her entire body trembled in the wake of it, and when the quivering ebbed away he realized he was done, too.

He'd barely been aware he'd finished right along with her. He didn't care. Quentin pressed a kiss to her lips roughly, dropping his weight back onto her, entire body overjoyed as she wound her arms and legs back around him.

"Quentin," she whispered to his lips. "Oh my…God."

He felt himself smile, easing his head back to take in her face. "That doesn't even cover it, baby girl." Her hands ran up his arms, and it was not missed on him that they were trembling.

"I have never in my life felt this good."

It froze him, but before he could freak her out he nuzzled her neck. "Arielle," it was all he could think to say.

"Sorry. I'm not cool in this situation."

"No, you're not. You're fucking hot, babe."

She laughed at that, covering her face. The laugh had an interesting effect on his dwindling erection, and he eased out of her reluctantly. Her nails gripped his arms suddenly, and she whimpered just from that.

"Christ, Arielle," he muttered, flopping to his back next to her. "I'm not sure I can handle you."

She rolled to her side, her hand running to the centre of his chest. "Liar," she mumbled.

He caught her hand, kissing the backs of her fingers. "I mean that, Arielle. Jesus. I'm out of words." When she was silent he risked a look her way. She was studying him, biting her lip. All mindless passion was gone, and she was thinking, and he could tell, somehow, they weren't happy thoughts. He rolled up to his elbow, running a hand under her jaw. "What's that face for?" he asked softly.

"What do you mean?"

He shook his head. "I think your mind is going dark places, and I don't want that." She closed her eyes. "Arielle, babe?" She shook her head. "Nah nah, break away from wherever you just went. I want soft and sweet Arielle back. I want sexy, hot Arielle back."

She opened her eyes on a shuddering breath. "I don't think that Arielle is real."

He raised his eyebrows, easing closer to her. "Oh, she's very real. I've been after her for months. She was just here."

She smiled at that. His chest eased open a bit. "I'm not usually like that," she said, voice very small and he'd bet she was blushing.

He rolled to his back and pulled her with him, tucking her into his side. "And I'm not usually like this," he shared. "But like I said. You're under my skin. I can't help it. With you I'm…naked."

"I like that," she admitted, kissing his chest. It made him grin up at the ceiling. "Quentin?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't…don't break my heart, okay?"

He squeezed her into him tighter, kissing her head and biting back on the hurt that caused. "Baby girl, I'd rather cut off my own leg. You gonna promise me the same thing?"

"What?"

He ran his hand around the back of her neck, and she raised her face to gaze down on him, those big eyes so fucking honest. "You gotta promise not to break my heart, Arielle." She smiled slowly, then looked away from him again. "Hey," he croaked, pulling her around to face him again. "You gotta promise, Arielle."

"Oh, Quentin."

"No Oh Quentin. That requires an equal response," he wanted her to laugh. He was getting louder, wanting her to at least smile.

She bit her lip, then propped her chin on his chest. "Aren't you too tough to get your heart broken?"

"If I'm giving it to you, it's you that's gotta look after it, babe." Yeah, he said that. Blurted it out, cheesy as fuck. He wished he could inhale and take it back while she blinked once, twice.

Without warning she surged forward, pressing her lips against his, her upper body resting on him and causing him to slide his hands around her back as a reflex. He felt her ribs and spine again, but mostly he knew only her kiss and how urgent it was as she slid that sweet tongue past his lips, into his mouth, into his fucking soul.

He gripped her, likely too tight, but he couldn't help it. This wasn't the kind of kiss that was meant to invite a man to your bed, this was the kind of kiss that was the bearing of her heart and he felt that sweet tingle return to his neck and jaw as she parted, the kiss melting into softer pecks on his lips.