Uncovering Annabelle (2 page)

“
Suck me, baby,” he grated out between
his clenched teeth.

Annabelle took as much of him into her mouth
as she could. He held her head gently in his large hands as she
pleasured him. Annabelle relaxed and allowed his shaft to slide all
the way to the back of her throat. Her teeth lightly grazed his
length as he slid in and out of her moist mouth. She used her
tongue to flick along the underside of his cock and was rewarded
when his hands gripped her tighter.

Annabelle felt both powerful and weak. Her
breasts were heavy and ached for his touch, and her arousal
dampened the insides of her legs. Her body moved in rhythm with
his. She felt empty. Needy.

Annabelle licked at the head of his shaft,
savoring the drops of arousal that seeped from the tip. She sat
back on her heels and drew her tongue over her lips. “You taste
wonderful.”

“
Let me fuck you, Annabelle. You know we
both want it.” His hands were still tangled in a length of her
hair, as if he were loathe to lose contact with her.

Annabelle swayed forward and rubbed her face
over his arousal. “Yes.” Her breath was hot on him and her tongue
flicked out for another lick.

“
On your hands and knees, baby. You had
your fun. Now I want mine.” His fingers released their grip on her
hair and he watched, seemingly entranced, as the strands slid from
his grasp.

She observed him as he waited—the patient
hunter who had set the trap and was waiting for it to be sprung. He
was a male animal in his prime and he was ready to mate.

She smiled seductively and then turned her
back on him. She placed her hands on the floor in front of her and
then turned to look over her shoulder. “What are you waiting for?”
She rolled her hips as she teased him. She was more than ready for
him.

He swore as he tore his shirt over his head
and dropped to his knees behind her. His strong left arm encircled
her waist and then he pulled her back against him. The head of his
cock nudged her opening and then he pushed forward. She was so wet
and ready, he easily slid all the way to the hilt. Annabelle loved
the way he filled her so completely. Her inner muscles clamped down
hard on his shaft.

He sucked in a breath. “You’re so wet.” He
leaned down and pressed a kiss on her exposed back.

“
Mmm,” she agreed, rotating her hips
slightly. Her breasts hung in front of her and the weight of them
made her feel wild. If he was a male animal in his prime, then she
was his female counterpart. She arched her back and her hair slid
to one side, leaving her neck and shoulders bare. She pushed her
bottom snug against his groin and swiveled her hips. The motion
excited her even more.

His laugh quickly turned to a groan. He slid
both hands up her stomach and then covered her breasts. He had
large, strong hands. She shivered when he touched her. He rolled
the tight nipples between his thumbs and forefingers, making her
squirm. He leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “Payback is
hell.”

She responded by moving ahead slightly and
then pushing back as hard as she could. “It sure is,” she
panted.

He moaned and his hands tightened around her
breasts. He opened his legs, which spread hers even wider. He kept
one hand on her breast, teasing the puckered nipple. The other, he
wrapped tightly around her waist. Then he moved.

The pace he set was maddeningly slow. He
eased away until only the tip of his shaft was inside her. Then he
slipped back inside her until she was filled with him. He held her
firmly so she was unable to control the depths of his thrusts. He
kept up the slow steady tempo until she was both swearing at him
and pleading for him to finish.

The hand that was toying with her nipples
abandoned them and slid down to cover her mound. He held his hand
there for a moment. “You’re so damn hot,” he whispered behind her.
“I love that about you.”

He held her steady as his fingers combed
through her pubic hair. Every other stroke or so, he allowed his
index finger to graze her clitoris, barely touching it. She
desperately tried to move her hips, but he held her tight and
continued his erotic torture.

“
More. I need more.”

In answer to her demand, he began to move
his finger in a more regular rhythm. Lightly, he played with the
tiny nub of nerves. Then harder. Then light again. The steady
pattern remained the same but the pressure varied.

Tension built inside her until she was
almost mindless for release. Annabelle tossed her head from side to
side. “Harder.”

He continued working her until she almost
screamed in frustration. “Come for me,” he ordered as he bent down
and carefully bit the side of her neck.

The combination of all the stimulation was
too much for her, and her climax rose up and spilled over. His
fingers continued to pleasure her even as she clenched his engorged
penis. She rode the sensations to the very end until she collapsed.
He held her easily in his arms, his torso covering her back and
shoulders as he lowered her to the carpet.

She lay there feeling replete and satisfied.
The bottom shelves needed to be cleaned, she noted as the dust
tickled her nose. She felt as though she’d just had an out-of-body
experience. Little aftershocks rocked her.

When she finally began to relax, he
tightened his grip around her waist. He still filled her
completely, and after allowing her this moment of respite, nudged
her back up on her hands and knees.

“
I don’t think I can.” She swayed,
wanting more than anything to just become a puddle on the carpet.
He held her until she was back in the position he wanted.

“
I’ll do the work. Just enjoy.” He pulled
almost all the way out of her and then pushed back hard. Her
already swollen and sensitive inner muscles were stimulated even
more. Annabelle felt her slick channel stretch to accommodate his
length.

He stroked in and out. Never hesitating. Not
stopping.

Even though she’d just come, Annabelle’s
arousal grew until his slow, steady assault on her senses was no
longer enough. Recognizing her growing need, he quickened his pace.
His hips slapped against her bottom. The air was filled with the
earthy sounds and smell of sex.

He gave one huge groan, and she felt the wet
warmth of his release. His big body heaved and shook as his orgasm
consumed him. Swept up in the wave of passion, Annabelle came
again. Her inner muscles clamped down hard as he rode the wave of
his own release.

They both collapsed to the floor, but even
then he was careful to roll to the side so she wasn’t crushed
beneath his greater weight. He was still inside her, his face
buried against her neck as they both trembled with the aftershocks
of their lovemaking.

Annabelle loved the feel of his large body
against her. His position was both protective and soothing. He
glided his fingers over her stomach and traced the outline of one
nipple before his hand settled reassuringly around her breast. He
practically purred with contentment. He radiated a comforting heat,
and she snuggled closer, wanting to absorb his warmth. He laughed
as her bottom squirmed against him, enticing his penis to life
again.

“
I love your ass,” he whispered. Hot
kisses traced her neck and his tongue traced the swirls of her
ears. “You’re a hot piece, Miss Annabelle Lee.”

Before she could respond, a buzzing sound
filled Annabelle’s ears. She struggled to hear what he said, even
as his voice began to fade. His solid form began to disappear from
behind her. She turned, her hands reaching out to hold him to her,
but he was gone. She met only air as the buzzing grew.

“Stay,” she pleaded. But it was too late.
The sound of her own voice, added to the annoying hum of the alarm
clock, woke her completely.

Eyes closed to keep him inside her head a
little longer, she reached out and slapped her hand over the snooze
button, then flopped back onto the bed. She covered her face in
embarrassment even as her body thrummed with the last vestige of
her climax. Between her legs, she was hot and sticky.

This had to stop. She was thirty years old
and it was only in the last few months that she’d ever had an
erotic dream. And they all featured one man—Mike Sloan.

Annabelle rolled onto her side and buried
her face against her pillow. Her cheeks felt hot, and she was sure
her blush covered her from head to toe. The things she did in her
dreams shocked her.

After lying there long enough to catch her
breath and slow her rapid heartbeat, she finally pushed her hair
out of her face and squinted at the clock. Definitely time to get
up and shower—a cool one to soothe her heated skin—or she’d be late
for work.

She leaned over the side of the bed, plucked
her nightgown off the floor and tugged it over her head. Annabelle
didn’t understand how it happened, but somehow every time she
dreamed of Mike she woke up naked. Something she would never
intentionally do. She was so much more daring in her dreams than
she was in reality.

She swayed as she got to her feet and
steadied herself against the nightstand before stumbling to the
bathroom. She didn’t know what to do about her dreams. The only
thing that made them bearable was the fact that she only ran into
Mike Sloan a couple of times a week. She groaned at the notion of
having to face the man day after day. It was unthinkable.

She didn’t need her glasses to know the
woman reflected back at her looked as hot and rumpled as she felt.
And if the weatherman was correct, today was going to be another
scorcher. Even worse was the fact that the library’s
air-conditioning had given out yesterday.

Harold Keats, her elderly handyman, was
supposed to try to repair it this morning. Given the loud banging
sound the system had made before conking out, she didn’t hold out
much hope. She turned the shower on cold. She needed all the help
she could get.

She stepped under the frigid spray, leaned
against the shower wall for support and forced herself to stand
there. The water pummeled her aching muscles. She felt as if she’d
been hard used last night, even if it was just a dream. The chill
was just the jolt of reality she needed for both body and mind.
When she’d taken all the cold she could handle, she adjusted the
taps until the water was a little warmer.

As she lathered and rinsed, her sense of
humor reasserted itself. She laughed out loud and was rewarded with
a mouthful of water. Spitting and sputtering, she turned off the
shower and climbed out. She dried off and tucked the towel around
her body. She was Miss Annabelle Lee Murphy, the old-fashioned
librarian. The only chance she had of having a hot encounter in the
library stacks was if she caught some hormonal young boy checking
out women’s naked bodies in the anatomy section.

She dried her hair and pinned it up in its
customary style. The woman in the bathroom mirror was the one she
recognized. Her equilibrium restored, she returned to the bedroom
to dress and plan her day.

Chapter
One

“I heard you were hot.”

At the sound of the deep, masculine voice,
Annabelle came up from the floor behind her desk so fast she
smacked her head on the corner. “Ouch.” She sat back on her heels
and rubbed the back of her head as she glared at the man standing
in front of her.

Mike Sloan
. She groaned inwardly,
resisting the urge to dive back under her desk and stay there.
Might have known
. It seemed that she was doomed to be at her
worst whenever he was around. He leaned against the side of her
doorway, all six feet three inches of rugged male perfection.

At least in her mind he was perfect. His
face wasn’t classically handsome, but strong. The bump on his nose
suggested that it had been broken, maybe more than once, and his
soulful brown eyes were deep-set. His hair was a rich brown and
just a bit too long for fashion. He usually kept it tied back with
a leather thong. And his lips. Yum. Not too thin and not too thick.
Just right for kissing.

Oh, Lord, she was just sitting here on the
floor, staring at the man. What was it about him that made her lose
all common sense?

He’d asked her a question. Hadn’t he? “What
was it you said?” She strove for her best librarian’s voice. The
one that said “I’m in charge of the situation.” It worked well for
six-year-olds. But from the way Mike was grinning, it obviously
wasn’t working with him. She sighed, totally disgusted with
herself.

His deep voice washed over her. She loved
the sound of it, so well suited to seduction. She should know. It
was the same voice that seduced her in her dreams several nights a
week. She could sit there all day and contentedly listen to him
recite the phone book. In fact, she was enjoying listening to him
speak so much she’d missed what he’d said yet again.

Striving for dignity, she smoothed back any
errant strands of hair that had escaped the strict confines of her
bun and tried again. “I’m sorry. The knock on the head must have
shaken me up. What was it you said?”

“I said I heard you’re hot, Annabelle.” The
half smile on his face was knowing, as if he were somehow privy to
her lascivious thoughts.

She could feel the blush cover her cheeks
and resisted the temptation to slap her hands over them to hide the
telltale color. Oh, my Lord. Had he noticed her watching him
whenever she’d run into him in town? Had he guessed that she
thought he was the sexiest man she’d ever laid eyes on?

His brown eyes sparkled as they swept her
from head to foot. Was it her imagination or had his eyes grown
darker since last time she’d seen him? His gaze seemed to linger on
her mouth. On her lips. The memory of what her lips had been doing
in her dreams hit her full force. They were suddenly parched, and
she licked them, trying to ease their dryness. It didn’t help. Her
gaze dropped to the front of his jeans before she jerked it back to
his face.