Magic at Midnight (2 page)

Again, he kissed her, took her breath away with his possession. This was exactly how she’d imagined him taking her.
Taking
her. He wouldn’t leave room to protest. He’d swept her along in a sea of such passion and pleasure there was no way she could fight it, or him.

She raked her nails along that wonderfully muscular, broad back, needing to mark him as hers. He might well leave her after this was over, but she’d brand him as much as he branded her. Finding the waistband of his jeans, she dug one hand beneath them, beneath the waist of his underwear to find the firm flesh of his ass. God, she needed this! Needed this man.

Jacques pulled away from her to raise her sweater over her head. He didn’t wait to take off her bra, but groaned and found one nipple through the lace. “So beautiful,” he murmured. “So...
mine
.”

Jeannette couldn’t help the way her body reacted to those two little words. She
wanted
to be his but didn’t dare believe in it more than in that moment. After it was over, she’d go back to being Jeannette. His friend. His colleague. Not his lover.

Oh,
hell
no! Jeannette pushed with all her might and rolled, flipping them so she was on top of him. She rubbed her body over him like a cat before sitting up and unfastening her bra. His eyes were immediately glued to their toffee-colored fullness cupped so lovingly by her bra. They were small, but firm and full, rising almost perfectly from her chest without a hint of sag. She had never been more thankful in her life she’d kept herself in shape than she was in that moment when she saw the heat in those lovely green eyes.

He raised his hands to cup their weight almost reverently, brushing his thumbs over the dark nipples. She shuddered, the peaks tightening under his touch. His chest was dusted liberally with dark hair, muscles playing across it and down his abdomen. Suddenly, she couldn’t wait another second to see the rest of him.

She slid off the bed, unbuttoning her jeans as she went. When he followed her, she reached for the waist of his jeans, fumbling impatiently with the button and zipper. That deep, rumbling chuckle tickled her insides again.

“Impatient,
cher
?”

“I’ve waited for this moment since the day I met you, Jacques,” she practically panted. Dammit, she had to have this night. There was magic at midnight on New Year’s Eve and she was willing to lose herself in it. “I’m not waiting a second longer.”

They must have broken every record for shedding clothing because before she knew it, she was back in his bed with Jacques kissing his way down her body. Her thighs trembled when he spread them and kissed her belly right above her pubic bone. She never been so glad in her life she kept her body free of hair, because his tongue on all that bare flesh was seriously starting a fire she wasn’t sure either of them would survive.

Jacques wasn’t a man to waste words. He simply growled and dove right in. His tongue speared her opening before taking one long, slow lick from pussy to clit with the flat of his tongue. Jeannette couldn’t stop her scream if she’d tried. Quite frankly, she didn’t particularly care to try. She didn’t care if he knew how bad she wanted him. He’d started this, dammit. She intended to finish it. If he didn’t kill her with pleasure first.

Several times as he tongued her, Jeannette was certain she would come, but each time, Jacques pulled back. Finally, after the third time, she screeched and yanked him up by his hair. He laughed and covered her body with his much bigger one. She tasted herself on him when he kissed her, and, oh my God, what a turn on! It was a primitive, possessive thing on her part, but she loved that he tasted like her. He delved his tongue into her mouth over and over, mimicking the act she craved so much. She tilted her pelvis at him, inviting him inside her, but he merely let his cock slide against the wetness of her folds. And, Lord, was she wet! She’d never been this turned on in her life!

“If you don’t fuck me soon, Jacques, I swear I won’t be responsible for my actions.”

Again, he chuckled. Lord, how she loved that sound! It was the sexiest thing, next to that delicious drawl, she’d ever heard. “Well, I’ve never been one to disappoint a lady.”

And he slid home.

There were so many things Jeannette knew she needed to consider—important things. But for the life of her, none of it would come to her. The only thing that mattered was the man above her, gliding into her so smoothly. He filled her completely. Stretched her almost to the point of pain, but she reveled in it. Pleasure consumed her she wrapped her legs around him, linking them behind his back.

In the distance, she heard little mewling cries. It was hard to make them out for the roaring in her ears as the pressure built inside her to a boiling point. It took her a moment to realize, she was making the noise. She should have been ashamed at how needy she sounded, but Jacques seemed to love it.

“That’s it,
cher
. Tell me how good it feels.” His whisper was husky in her ear, sounding almost as needy as she did. “Take what you need. Come for me,
bebe
, come for me.”

Just like that, as if all she’d been waiting for was his soft command, Jeannette exploded. Lights danced behind her eyelids and she screamed her pleasure for all she was worth. Her body seized and clenched with her release, needing more, though Jeannette wasn’t sure she could stand much more. Not all at once anyway.

Jacques ragged breathing signaled his own release and before she could protest—not that she would have—he emptied himself deep inside her. His warm seed bathed her insides and she welcomed his possession. In that moment, she was well and truly his.

They lay there a moment before Jacques rolled them over, pulling up the thick comforter to cover them both. He pulled her snugly against his body, wrapping his arms tightly around her.

Once the orgasmic high wore off, the reality of what she’d done sank in. It would be so much easier if she left now rather than have to face him in the morning. “Let me up, Jacques.”

“No,” he said simply, not easing his hold in her.

“I need to go.” She tried to protest, she really did. She didn’t want to leave, but there didn’t really seem like an alternative. They were in his house. His bed. Hell, everyone downstairs had probably heard her screaming and knew exactly what was going on. Better she leave now while everyone could witness her leaving than to have them speculating about the rest of her weekend in the arms of Dr. Jacques Benoit.

“No, you don’t.” He shifted so her head laid back on his arm rather than on his chest so he could tilt her chin and force her to look at him. “In fact, once we get your things from your apartment, you’ll never be leaving again. Not for any length of time, anyway.”

Had he lost his mind? Had she? Her heart gave a little lurch. Dare she hope? “I— This is your home, Jacques. Not mine.”

He gave her a boyish, lopsided grin that made her insides melt all over again. “It will be. It’s after midnight,
cher
. The magic of midnight on New Years Eve dictates that, whatever you’re doing at that precise moment, you’ll do all year long.”

Coming from anyone else, Jeannette would have dismissed it as so much bullshit, but she knew Jacques. He never said or did anything he didn’t mean. Every woman he’d ever dated knew exactly where she stood with him, and none of them had been surprised when he kissed them goodbye for the last time.

She couldn’t resist a little teasing. “So, I’ve managed to tame the playboy then?”

“Well, my mama was a voodoo queen, so I happen to believe in magic.”

“Your mama was no such thing and she’d whip your ass for even suggesting it.”

He laughed and pulled her close. “You can rat me out at our wedding if you want. I don’t think she’d mind, given the result.”

And wouldn’t you know, she didn’t.

**
Marteeka
**

Marteeka Karland

Erotic romance author by night, emergency room tech/clerk by day, Marteeka Karland works really hard to drive everyone in her life completely and totally nuts. She has been creating stories from her warped imagination since she was in the third grade. Her love of writing blossomed throughout her teenage years until it developed into the totally unorthodox and irreverent style her English teachers tried so hard to rid her of.

Want to see what’s up with Marteeka? Check out her website at www.marteekakarland.com or join her Yahoo! group at [email protected]. Marteeka always welcomes e-mail from her readers. You can reach her at

[email protected]
.

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Magic at Midnight