Read Into the Crossfire Online
Authors: Lisa Marie Rice
Sam lifted her knees, moving impossibly deeper, touching
something...Nicole came with a wild cry, clenching tightly around him, shaking
and shuddering, sweating, tears leaking out of her eyes, the climax so intense she
lost herself for long moments, spinning way out in space, coming back to herself
only when Sam grunted and started coming inside her, long, hot spurts of semen
bathing her sheath.
He was moving inside her with enormous ease now. She was incredibly
wet, full of his juices and hers. Time stretched, became meaningless.
He stilled finally while Nicole drifted lazily on waves of pleasure. She was
incredibly sweaty, but it was more his sweat than hers. Their chests were stuck
together, she discovered as she pushed at his shoulders. Her entire groin area was
sopping wet, including her thighs. Her vagina was sore, super-sensitized. She
could feel every inch of his penis, still hard inside her. Her muscles felt lax, unable
to work.
She felt...wonderful. She'd be floating if she didn't have his enormous
weight on top of her. She pushed at his shoulders again and with an aggrieved
sigh, he lifted himself up on his forearms and smiled down at her.
A tiny forelock of dark hair had fallen over his forehead and she reached up
a hand to smooth it back.
"Are you hungry?" he asked and she was about ready to answer, No, of
course not, we just ate, when her stomach rumbled, loudly.
"Apparently, I am." This was amazing. They'd had a full meal and yet,
consulting her stomach, she realized she was famished.
Sam dropped a kiss on her nose and pulled out of her. So slowly it was
arousing. If that hadn't done the trick, seeing him standing by the side of the bed
naked would have been enough to turn her on.
Though he was huge, he was lean with it, perfectly proportioned, graceful
and strong. And--whew!--hung.
For the first time, Nicole was able to appreciate his, um, attributes.
Amazingly, after coming twice, he was still aroused. His penis, glistening with
their juices, a dark suede color, with big veins running up it, nearly reached his
navel.
Sam reached down to encircle her ankle for a second. "I'll bring you
something out on the terrace. We're going to need some fuel for round two."
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Sam nearly laughed at her expression. She was ready to call it quits, but he
wasn't. Not even close. He was as revved as he'd ever been in his life.
Man, just looking at her, there on his bed...like some seventeenth-century
painting. Just the colors of her would be enough to wake a dead man. Midnight
black hair; porcelain skin; red, red lips, slightly swollen from his kisses. Cherry
red nipples, cloud of soft black hair between her thighs.
She glistened, from her sweat and his. From his come, from her girl juices.
She hadn't moved an inch after he'd pulled out. She looked as if she were fucking
some phantom lover--legs bent and apart, so wide open to him he could see the
puffy, deep pink tissues of her cunt, arms still outstretched, eyes half closed as if
still kissing him. He wanted to climb back onto her, slide right back into her. He
wanted that so hard he clenched his fists.
But she needed food. Sam was used to pushing himself, but she wouldn't
be.
He watched her as her eyelids slowly lowered until there was only a sliver
of that amazing blue, watched as her breathing slowed, watched as the wild
heartbeat over her left breast beat less frantically.
Shit, even looking at her was better than fucking anyone else.
That was a scary thought. He left it behind and went to the kitchen to
scrabble for food. He didn't cook much but his housekeeper sometimes left him
things and there was always fruit.
Five minutes later, he was carrying a big tray out onto the balcony, pleased
with what he was able to scrounge up. A big plate of grapes, a couple of slices of
cheese that, miraculously, had no mold on them. Half a loaf of frozen whole wheat
bread he nuked in the microwave.
Two stem glasses and a bottle of really good Chilean sauvignon blanc.
She'd know how to pronounce it. He placed the tray on the wrought-iron-and-glass
table outside and debated whether to turn on the outside terrace lights. It was dark
outside, maybe around midnight. They'd been fucking for three hours straight. He
switched on one of the halogen lights, just enough for them to see the food by, not
enough for a boat out on the ocean to see what they were doing.
Sam looked out over the dark ocean, then down at himself, at his boner that
simply wouldn't quit. He had plenty of stamina but after a couple of hours, he was
ordinarily ready to call it quits. Drive the lady home. Relax.
He wasn't anywhere near that point with Nicole. Couldn't even imagine it.
He was in deepest shit, he reflected, as he went back into the bedroom to
carry her out to the terrace.
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San Diego
Early morning
June 29
The sky had turned pewter, a shade lighter than the ocean that still carried
the darkness of the night.
Nicole opened one eye, then closed it quickly.
Eyes closed, she tried to process what she'd seen.
A train wreck, that's what she'd seen.
She opened her eyes each morning to her calm, orderly bedroom, with the
four-poster that she'd slept in in seven countries, with its French lace canopy and
Frette sheets. The seventeenth-century armoire and eighteenth-century Italian
madia. The vases with fresh flowers, the ceramic bowls of potpourri, the big
Baccarat crystal vase full of multicolored sand. Her mother's lovely watercolors
and a collection of photographs taken by an old school friend who was now one of
the top fashion photographers in the world.
Everything in its place. Cool and quiet and neat, exactly as she liked it.
This room looked like it had been at war, particularly the bed. She looked
down at herself, naked, one leg trapped by the powerful, hairy leg of an equally
naked man. A man with hormones instead of blood, she'd swear.
Sam Reston did not have an "off" button. He'd finally stopped a few hours
ago because she was ready to go into a coma, after too many orgasms to count.
Time out, she'd gasped, and he'd laughed and slowly pulled out of her, the
act so sexy she'd mourned the absence of his penis immediately, though she'd been
the one to call a halt. He'd disappeared for a moment and come back with two
glasses of chilled white wine and a plate of ripe grapes.
Even after dinner, even after the impromptu midnight picnic on the terrace,
she'd been ravenous. Nonstop sex, it appeared, was an appetite stimulant, in more
ways than one.
As she sipped the wine, she couldn't help but give an admiring look at him
sitting beside her, muscles bulging as he fed her grapes, big, thick, erect penis
dark, engorged with blood, twitching when she looked at it.
She'd glanced at his lap then looked away again, but she could feel the flush
rising from her breasts to her face. She thought she'd stopped blushing in her teens,
but apparently not. Close proximity to Sam Reston made the blood pound through
her body, rise to her face, color her nipples deep pink.
He'd looked at her, really looked at her, from her flushed breasts, the left
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one moving slightly with the hard pulses of her heart, the vein beating in her neck,
the pearls of moisture in her pubic hair, a mixture of his semen and her excitement.
His eyes had lifted to hers and her entire body thrummed. But it was like
asking a car to start on fumes, after having been pedal-to-the-metal running
straight through every molecule of gas in the tank. She was sore all over,
particularly her sex, and the desire she felt was only a faint echo of the allconsuming drive to have him in her she'd felt all night in his bed.
There it was. She'd hit her own personal wall. Finally. It had been a night of
excess that had astonished her, but she had her limits and she'd reached them.
Sam had moved his free hand to her knee, cupping it, narrowed dark eyes
burning into hers. He'd brought his mouth to her ear.
"Nicole?" The deep voice had been like a caress. How incredibly sexy it
had sounded in her ear while he'd been moving heavily inside her. Her stomach
clenched at the memory.
Oh God, he was ready for another round. How could he? With a sigh,
Nicole realized she wasn't being fair. She'd nearly crawled into his skin up until
now, matching him heat for heat. If she'd reached the end of her rope, and he
hadn't, it wasn't his fault.
"Lie down," he'd said softly.
Heart pounding, she let her back settle on the mattress. How to do this?
Maybe she could psych herself up for another round.
He shifted on the mattress and she controlled a wince. But instead of
climbing on top of her, as she expected, he smiled and positioned his glass of wine
over her belly and slowly, slowly, poured a thin, cold stream of the fragrant
Chardonnay over her.
It felt good on her overheated skin, the fragrant fruity notes rising to her
nose.
And then Sam had bent to lick the wine off her stomach, slowly, like a cat
lapping cream. She'd tried to rise on her elbows, but he'd simply put a big hand on
her chest and gently pushed her back down.
He lifted his head and smiled at her. "No, honey," he said, his voice a deep,
dark whisper. "You don't do anything at all. You just lie back and let me pleasure
you."
That was good, because her muscles felt like water, incapable of holding
her up.
Sam's tongue moved lower, lower and she gasped as he licked around her
sex, gently, as if aware of the fact that she was sore.
"Close your eyes." The deep voice came from far away.
"Okay." She closed her eyes, heard the faint click as he turned the bedside
lamp off. Her eyelids turned from pink to black.
Sam nuzzled her sex, nose against her clitoris, tongue gently swirling,
dipping into her, where his penis had just been. Her breath came out on a sigh, his
own murmur of satisfaction echoing hers.
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Soft plashing sounds came through the open French windows, gentle and
regular, as if the sea were breathing. There were soft gentle sounds coming from
down her body as Sam worked her with his mouth.
Such a strange sensation, slowly becoming aroused while the mantle of
sleep bore down on her, as she drifted further and further away, to a land of
pleasure that grew ever darker...
Unlike the other contractions of orgasm, so sharp at times they poised on
the knife-edge of pain, this climax was gentle, dreamy, her body a boat rocking on
the soft waves of the sea, rocking, rocking...
It was the last thing she remembered.
The sky was growing lighter by the minute. Soon it would be dawn.
Nicole rose slowly from the bed, wincing at all the sore muscles, making
her halting way to the bathroom. She passed a mirror and winced at the sight of
the unknown woman in the mirror, clearer by the minute as the world outside
lightened, like an image emerging from the fog. Wild, dark hair tangling around
her head, huge eyes, swollen lips.
She looked back at the bed, at him. He was so long, his feet hung off the
bed. Even his feet were gorgeous, long, lean, high-arched. One thick arm was over
his eyes, the other outstretched to her side of the bed. Deeply asleep, completely
still except for the expansion of his broad chest with each breath.
Well...he'd made love all night. Literally. She'd had no idea that any male
over the age of fifteen would have been capable of that, capable of coming so
many times she'd lost count. Even now, in complete repose, in a sleep so deep it
could have been a coma, his penis looked full, veins visible, semi-erect on his
thigh.
If Sam's eyes were to open right now, and if he were to see her naked, that
penis would swell fully erect in an instant. She'd bet the bank on it.
Something in her seemed to set him off. Certainly, something in him set her
off. She looked like she was making love right now. Her breasts were swollen,
nipples red and hard. And oh God, just looking at him, like some Greek statue
come to life, her thighs trembled.
She had to get out of here. Fast.
For a second, she looked with longing at the bathroom door. A shower. A
shower would go a long way toward making her feel like herself again, washing
away the smell of him permeating her skin. He'd touched every inch of her last
night, marked her irrevocably, inside and out. She wasn't used to not feeling fresh
and she definitely wasn't used to smelling of someone else.
She stared at herself in the mirror, this face she'd never seen before, eyes
wide, pupils dilated.
And then she was aware of something else. Wetness between her legs,
running down her thighs. For a moment, she thought she'd unexpectedly got her
period, that her body had simply disobeyed the pill and gone ahead and had a
period, breaking the hormonal schedule. An entire night of wild sex surely would
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be enough to knock her for a loop, hormonally speaking.
She looked down at herself, expecting to see drops of blood, but all she saw