Author: Jaci Burton

“More of this?” He captured her nipple in his mouth again and sucked and the rapturous pleasure settled heavy between her legs, teasing her, letting her know how damn good it was going to be between them.

“Yes. No. I don’t know.”

“Or this?” He took her other nipple between his fingers and rolled it. Heat shot to her pussy, making it quiver.

“Yes. No.”

He laughed. “Maybe I know what you need.”

He abandoned her breasts and kissed her rib cage again, moving down to her belly, and lower. When he settled himself on the floor, then dragged her butt to the edge of the bed, she raised her head, wishing now for the light so she could see what he was doing—what he might do.

But she could only imagine, could only feel his breath against her thigh, his fingers parting her thighs, his hair brushing her skin. He dragged her panties slowly down her quivering legs, his hands moving over her calves, her knees, her thighs as he drew out the agony even longer.

And then she felt it—a light touch along her inner thigh. Hot, wet, she thought she had imagined it, but there it was again, and she knew it was his tongue, creeping ever closer to her—

Oh, God. He laid his tongue on her, and then licked along her pussy. Then there was definitely no mistake. It was real, and she was drowning in sensation—the most pleasurable, soaking sensation she’d ever felt. He gripped her hips and buried his face in her pussy, licking her like he was dying of thirst.

And she absorbed every lash of his tongue like she had never been licked before. Though she had—but not like this—not by a man who knew exactly what he was doing, who did it for her pleasure and her pleasure alone. She had waited so long for this. They had danced around each other, teasing, tormenting, and now that he was exactly where she wanted him, the floodgates had opened. His mouth and his tongue did the devil’s work on her clit and pussy—relentlessly stroking, licking, nibbling—giving her no time to think, to breathe, to process. She gripped the sheets in her hands and held on, but knew she had no hope of lasting. It was too good, too wet, and she was going to come.

“Rick.”

That was all she could say before she lifted her hips and fed him her pussy. And shattered.

Her orgasm was like a runaway train. She had no control over her wild response that took her completely over the edge. Rick’s fingers dug into her hips and held on while she bucked against him in a frenzy of pleasure. It had been so long . . . so long, and she rode this one out like holding on to a precious gift she might never receive again.

Even after it was over she still felt tiny quakes of sensation, pinpricks of pleasure that seemed to never stop. When Rick kissed her thighs and her belly, she smiled, certain she’d never been so content.

And they weren’t even close to being finished. They had just started.

Rick moved away from her. The loss of his body contact against her made her feel chilled. She lifted up to a sitting position and wrapped her arms around her legs. She could make out his form in the darkness as he stood at the edge of the bed.

She heard his belt buckle, then a zipper.

“How about some light?” she asked.

He leaned over and flipped the switch on the nightstand.

Ava blinked, forcing her eyes to adjust to the sudden light.

Rick stood in front of her, bare-chested, his jeans unzipped all the way. She swallowed—or tried to—but found nothing to coat her throat.

Da-yum. The man before her was a god, pure and simple. Tall, well muscled, bronzed, and gorgeous, with the kind of wicked smile that could make a woman hope and pray that he was thinking about her. Her gaze traveled down his chest, the wall of muscle at his abdomen, to the dark line of hair that led down to the hidden place where his jeans lay open.

How did she get so lucky to land a guy like this? Rock hard and sex on two legs.

She wasn’t about to question it.

Because for tonight, at least, he was all hers.

Rick looked down at Ava, at the way she stared at him with a mixture of satisfaction and need, her dark eyes saying a lot about what she wanted.

A man could develop a hell of an ego having a woman look at him like that.

Especially a woman as beautiful as Ava. With her clothes on she was distracting enough. Her face could stop traffic.

Naked, she was like a siren about to lure him to his death. Damn good thing the lights had been off earlier, or else he might have been afraid to touch her.

He and perfection? Yeah, they never occupied the same room—until tonight.

Ava was perfect, from her beautiful full breasts with dusky, tasty nipples right down to her luscious hips and thighs and the sweet pussy between them. She was all woman. And tonight, all his.

He’d just had a taste of her, the sweetest honey a man could ever drink. And now he wanted more.

She sat in the middle of the bed, her legs pulled up, her arms wrapped around them. He dropped his jeans to the floor and her eyes went smoky dark.

“Come here.”

She shifted, scooted to the edge of the bed and let her legs dangle over the side.

Rick took a step forward, pulled her to her feet, and slid his arms around her. His erection wedged between them. God, it was tight, hot. He was ready to burst, especially after tasting her and having her come for him. He wanted her to come again—while he was inside her.

“I like having you naked against me.”

She tilted her head back and offered up a smile, then slide her palms up over his shoulders. “It’s about time.”

He arched a brow. “Did I make you wait?”

“Seems that way.”

“Then no more waiting.” He took her mouth in a kiss—he really liked her mouth. Sweet, pliant, he could kiss her for hours. He turned, shifting them, and fell on the bed, bringing Ava down on top of him. She lifted her head and stared down at him, her hair like a raven waterfall across her cheeks. He swept it to the side, then rolled his hands down her back, grabbed her ass, and squeezed.

Her lips parted and her eyelids drifted partway closed.

Ah. So easy to tell what she liked. He’d have to remember to do this with the lights on again, so he could see her reactions.

And there’d be an again. He already knew once wouldn’t be enough. He’d already waited too damn long.

He rolled her over, pinning her by climbing on top of her. His cock slid between her parted thighs, rubbing against her moisture-coated pussy. Like wet silk.

He reached over on the nightstand for the condom he’d pulled out of his pocket, tore open the wrapper, and lifted only long enough to put it on. Then, bracing himself on his arms, he watched as his cock nudged against her pussy lips.

Ava parted her legs, held onto his wrists—tight—oh, man, he liked the way she gripped him.

He slid inside her pussy, slow and easy at first, gritting his teeth because it was just so goddamn good. She pulsed around him, sucking him into the vortex of her hot, tight, pussy.

He lifted his gaze to hers. Her lips were clamped shut, her nostrils flaring. And when he rolled his hips she let out a soft moan.

Oh, yeah.

And still, she held tight to his wrists, dug her nails into him every time he pulled partway out, then drove in deep.

She liked it deep.

So did he.

He dropped down on top of her, careful to keep his weight off her slight frame, and slid one hand under her to cup her buttocks, tilting her up, giving him more access to her depths.

And then he thrust again.

She let out a gasp, a little louder this time, her pussy rippling in response.

“Rick. Oh, God. Oh, damn.”

“Yeah, baby. I know. You feel good.”

He kissed her again, enjoying the feel of her breasts against his chest, her nipples scraping against him as he rolled his hips from one side to the other. He liked the sounds she made when he fucked her. It made his balls tighten up, fill with the come he was going to shoot.

But first, he wanted to make her come. He intensified the friction, sliding against her clit every time he thrust. Again and again until she tilted her head back, closed her eyes, and lifted her hips to cry out for more.

He gave her more, grinding against her until he felt her walls closing in around his cock, squeezing him while she dragged her fingernails across his back and called out his name as she climaxed.

He wanted to hold on to this moment and watch her face, her lips parted as she cried out, her head tilted back, her eyes squeezed tighly shut as she felt it all course through her. He knew what that felt like because it took every ounce of strength he had to keep his own orgasm from bursting. But he couldn’t hold back anymore because his orgasm ripped through him, tearing through his nerve endings like a flash of lightning, so hot and hard he shuddered, buried his face against Ava’s neck, and let out a loud groan of pleasure that he felt from his head to his feet. He continued to rock against her, feeling her shudder as he emptied himself of everything he had.

It had never been this good, this intense, this involved.

Spent, he licked her neck, kissed her jaw, her lips, then rolled to the side and held her there, the two of them still connected.

Ava slung a leg over him and laid her head against his chest.

Rick inhaled, exhaled, stroked Ava’s hair.

Yeah, really damn good.

Too damn good, in fact. He’d never been with a woman who matched him more perfectly.

And he still really didn’t know a damn thing about her, or why she was with the Hellraisers.

Reality intruded and he had to start thinking clearly again. Sex had been fun, but it was time to start thinking with his head instead of his dick.

Ava moaned and shifted in his arms. Said dick noticed and began to spring to life again.

Ava smiled and tilted her head back.

“I thought guys needed recovery time.”

“This guy doesn’t.”

“Hope you brought a lot of condoms, then.”

He didn’t think he’d brought nearly enough for what he’d need with Ava.

EIGHT

Ava stretched and rolled over, searching out Rick’s warm body to help ward off the morning chill.

The other side of the bed was empty. She blinked her eyes open, sat up, and searched the room.

He wasn’t there. Neither were his clothes. She got up and looked in the bathroom, and he wasn’t in there, either.

Well, fine. She pulled on a pair of sweats and a T-shirt, then flopped onto the bed, forcing herself not to pout.

Maybe he had something important to do this morning. Her gaze slid over to the clock on the nightstand—seven-thirty. It was still early. They hadn’t gotten more than four hours of sleep last night. What could he possibly have to do this early in the morning, besides hightail it out of her room so he could get away from her?

Guys did that. A lot didn’t care for the “morning after.” Sex was fine, but they didn’t stay the night. Rick had at least stayed the night—or a few hours, anyway. They’d had sex again, and promptly passed out in each other’s arms. Maybe he’d only needed a few hours to rest, then wanted to get out of there before he had to—gasp—talk to her.

Guys did that, too—left before they had to have the morning-after conversation. The few guys she’d had sex with hadn’t been the “cuddle and talk after sex” type. Hell, they hadn’t been the “stay in the room after sex” type. Which was probably why sex hadn’t been high on her priority list the past few years. Being used wasn’t fun.

But for some reason she’d thought Rick was different. How stupid of her. He was just like the others. Get off and get out of there before the woman wants to talk.

It wasn’t like she was going to rehash the sex from the night before.

She stretched, raised her arms above her head and pointed her toes, smiling at the soreness in her muscles. No, she was pretty certain the sex spoke for itself and needed no further conversation.

But Rick didn’t know that, and he was probably used to clingy women who thought one night of sex equaled a relationship.