No Rules (23 page)

She could say the same. She slid her hands around his back, pressing into what felt like a solid wall of muscle. Her breasts brushed his chest, tickled by a sprinkling of dark hair. She couldn’t help but make comparisons with Gene—Donovan was slimmer and yet more muscular, hard where Gene had been soft. Decisive where Gene had been hesitant. And scruffy with what was now at least four-day’s growth of beard, where Gene’s cheeks had been smooth and soft. Gene had even shaved before the few times they’d had sex out of consideration for her delicate skin, so as to not leave whisker burn. She’d thought that had been nice. Now she found herself eager to have Donovan’s rough cheeks rub against her, even if it irritated her skin. She was up for a good, hard dose of testosterone.

She wondered if he was making comparisons, too, and what kind of women he usually chose. Gorgeous women, she was certain. Worldly and sexy. Probably beautiful but tough, like Avery. That seemed more likely than the sheltered, mousy type she’d always been, afraid of the world and obsessed with taking precautions. She was truly the rabbit to his wolf—her father had gotten that part right.

Damn it, she didn’t want Donovan to see her like that. It hit her hard, like a slap to the psyche, a realization that she didn’t want to fit the mold she’d been trying so hard to wedge herself into for the past ten years. She wanted to be an equal partner with Donovan, at least in his bed. She might not know how to shoot a submachine gun or take out enemy forces like Avery undoubtedly did, but she was a woman with sexual desires and she enjoyed having sex. If she didn’t enjoy it quite as fully as most other women, at least she could make sure that he did.

Well, she could do her best, anyway. That hadn’t always been enough for Gene, but Donovan seemed to be a lot more motivated than her last lover.

Currently, his motivation was making a tent in front of his towel. As he took her mouth with his she slipped her hand down and pulled the towel off. She didn’t have a chance to look down because her tongue was suddenly occupied and didn’t want to stop, but she had the pleasure of reaching around to slip her hands around the tight cheeks of his ass and squeeze. He groaned and pressed closer, and his erection slipped through the open front of her robe, probing against her abdomen. He pushed her robe the rest of the way off. It pooled at her feet and nearly tripped her as he backed her against the bathroom wall and ground into her.

He was eager and insistent, and she was breathless with the knowledge that she did that to him. He wanted her, and it only increased her desire to feel how much. How big. She reached between them, wrapping her hand around him and stroking as she mimicked the move with her tongue.

He raised his head as he pushed into her hand and groaned, “Jesus, Jess.” Encouraged, she slid her hand lower, cupping his balls as she sank down to take him into her mouth.

He caught her arms seconds later, jerking her upright. “Damn, woman. Too much.” Pulling back, he led her the short distance to the bed. It had been made when she went into the bathroom. Now the covers were turned down and a condom sat on the nightstand. No, two condoms. She smiled.

Before she knew what was happening, he scooped her off her feet and laid her on the bed. He climbed over her, a knee on each side pinning her in place. The erection she’d been fondling jutted upward above her stomach. A quiver of anticipation went through her, and she raised her hips in a silent plea.

His eyes turned dark and hungry, but he seemed to be in no hurry to satisfy her. Holding himself above her, he kissed her breasts, licking and sucking until she squirmed from the intense pleasure rocketing down to pool between her thighs. “Patience,” he murmured, kissing her mouth. His hand slipped down her stomach and into the cleft between her legs. The quiver became an electric shock as he slid a finger inside her, then stroked her once, his finger sliding through wetness as it moved upward to press against her clitoris. She sucked in a gasp at the strong ripple of pleasure. God, if he did that again she’d come right out of her skin.

He chuckled and murmured, “Holy shit, Jess.” She had no idea what that meant, but it sounded reverent, so she figured it was good.

His mouth went back to her breasts, a heavenly sensation that also gave her the opportunity to run her hands over the muscles of his back as they bunched and rippled, and down to his slim hips and tight ass. God, the man was hard all over. She’d never thought a perfect body was important, not if the man had a good heart and soul, but it turned out there was a lot to be said for physical perfection.

His mouth moved between her breasts, and the scratch of his whiskers against her soft skin sent another bolt of heat streaking downward. Everything that marked him as different from the men she usually dated seemed to be a major turn-on. His mouth moved lower, and his hands followed, framing her waist, then her hips. She knew where he was going and started to tense. Gene’s tentative licks down there had felt good, but mainly made her self-conscious.

“God, Jess,” he murmured. “I love the way you smell, and the softness of your skin.”

She relaxed, sighing as his fingers smoothed the thin line of hair between her legs.

“And I love how wet you are for me.” His finger dipped in and circled again, and she bit her lip to keep from crying out.

“And the way you taste.” His tongue touched her, as she’d known it would. But it didn’t dart away again as she’d expected. It pushed firmly against her and licked a wide path straight up to the sensitive nub at the top.

“Ohmygod!” Her nerve endings exploded and her hips raised against his mouth in a purely involuntary reaction, seeking more. Before her surprise had a chance to ebb, he did it again and her brain shorted out. She sucked in a quick breath, nearly choking on it as his tongue dallied over her clitoris. As she squeaked out a strangled, “Tyler,” he plunged two fingers inside her. With a hoarse cry she came apart, muscles clenching around his fingers as she helplessly rode the delicious spasms that tore through her. When they finally stopped, she released her clenched grip on the blanket and covered her eyes with the back of her hand, panting heavily.

He laughed softly and raised himself to hover over her face. “God, you were so ready for that, Jess.”

“You have no idea.”

He kissed her, and a combination of her taste and his mingled in her mouth. The realization sent another shiver of excitement through her, and she kissed him again, just because she hadn’t had a lover like him before and had no idea where she’d find another one. “Thank you, that was wonderful, but I was kind of hoping we’d do that together.”

“We will, sweetheart. Don’t you believe in multiple orgasms?”

“Yes, but…” With a real person? She didn’t want to tell him how unlikely that was. He wasn’t listening, anyway. He was kissing her cheek just in front of her ear while his hand teased her nipple to alertness and his erection rubbed between her legs, just off target enough to drive her crazy. So she started paying attention to what he was doing, turning her head to catch his lips with hers, arching her breast into his palm, and reaching down to stroke his hard length. This time he uttered a happy, “Mmm,” and allowed her a couple long strokes before sinking against her to trap her hand and prevent any further touching. Groaning into her neck, he said, “It feels too good when you touch me.”

It felt good to her, too, especially when his erection pushed against her so close to where she wanted it. And she did want it. That pulsing hunger was building inside her again, and even if she couldn’t achieve an orgasm, she wanted to have him inside her, to feel him stiffen with his own pleasure. Feeling beside the bed, she found the condom and ripped it with her teeth.

“In a hurry?” he asked, smiling.

“Yes.” He wouldn’t understand, and she didn’t want to explain that the sort of eagerness she felt right now rarely happened to her, and when it did, it never lasted long enough to become more than a vague hope of fulfillment. But he’d made her come alive, and all she knew was that she had to have him inside her now. Pushing him off, she sat up and fitted the condom over him, hurriedly rolling it down his length. He watched through narrowed eyes, then pushed her back down and climbed between her legs.

His gaze had gone all dark and serious, watching her as he spread her legs farther apart. She felt vulnerable and aroused at the same time. She stared back, drinking in every move he made, every glimmer in his dark eyes. Touching her again, he rubbed and circled with his fingers, making her even wetter. She squirmed from the desire building inside her. “Please, Tyler,” she whispered.

He smiled, then leaned over her and reached between them to place himself at her opening. His eyes held hers as he paused there, barely inside her, and the crazy, restless feeling increased until she wanted to scream, “Now! I need you now!”

As if he’d read her mind, he pushed inside in one smooth stroke, filling her. She sighed and closed her eyes, tilting her hips to feel him better, to absorb every wild twinge of pleasure jolting her just from having him inside her. This sexy, dangerous man, who was supposed to make her frigid with terror, instead heated her like no one else ever had.

He moved with a deliberate thrust, rubbing against her at the end, and her eyes popped open. It felt good, so good that she wanted to open herself farther to take in more of him. She lifted her knees higher, watching him move with breathless fascination.

His gaze sharpened. Reaching behind one knee, he pulled her leg up, accomplishing exactly what she’d wanted, opening her to him completely. With his eyes holding hers, he pumped into her. Faster. Harder.

She gasped at the jolt of pleasure, then lost herself to amazement as she realized the urgent, intense pressure was building to another climax. She panted a breathless, “Oh,” then wasn’t sure if she closed her eyes or simply lost the ability to see as an explosion of pleasure rocked through her, gripping her muscles so hard she stopped moving, lost in rigid, toe-curling joy.

Donovan’s shoulders bunched and he groaned into her neck as he thrust against her one final time, his release seconds behind her own. The wonderful explosions trailed off until she lay still beneath him, lazily trailing her fingers up his back and threading them into his hair. She stared at the ceiling, lost in awe and thrilled to her toes.

She’d come! The Big O. She’d climaxed with a man. A handsome, sexy, smart man, who was also bossy and domineering and oh yeah, don’t forget, a killer. He’d given her the best, biggest orgasm of her life.
With his penis!
And, oh God, with his tongue. A sound escaped her throat, half laughter and half sob.

He raised his head, his smile changing to a look of confusion. “Is something wrong?”

She shook her head and gave him a weak smile. Then—damn it—a tear leaked from the side of her eye.

He pulled out of her and she instantly missed him, even though he stayed right at her side. “What is it? God, Jess, did I hurt you?”

“No, no, of course not. I’m fine.”

“You’re crying. Or trying not to.”

“No, I’m laughing. I think.” She laughed nervously to prove it, then swiped at her eye to erase any evidence otherwise.

He used his thumb to wipe away the wet streak on her jaw. “Okay, why are you laughing?”

Did she really have to explain? She looked at his kind expression and thought she probably did. Tears and laughter could not be the usual response to the extraordinary pleasure he’d just given her.

“It’s not you,” she began. “I mean, it is, but in a good way.” Good Lord, she sounded like an idiot. She took a deep breath and started over, this time trying to engage a few more brain cells. “I’m relieved, that’s all. I didn’t think I could…I mean I hoped I could, but…I wasn’t expecting it to be so good. That’s all.” She smiled gamely.

He smoothed hair off her forehead with the softest, most patient smile she’d ever seen. “Why not?”

How had she ever thought this man was dangerous? His scruffy beard, several days overdue for a shave, looked rough, and yes, he’d killed a man. A man who’d come to kill her. And broken another man’s arm in a knife fight. But that was because he had a dangerous job and was competent, alert for danger, and good at what he did. He was confident and smart and wise enough to use other people for the things he didn’t know. He was a leader, engendering trust. It was a combination that made him sexy as hell even without the to-die-for body.

And after he’d made fantastic love to her, she had turned into a soggy, emotional mess. She owed him honesty.

“I thought I was frigid,” she admitted.

“What? Who told you that?”

“My therapist did. He wasn’t wrong. But for a long time I couldn’t, you know, do what I did.”

“What, have sex?”

“Have an orgasm.”

He tried not to react, she could tell, but looked slightly appalled. “Ever?”

“Well, not with a man.”

Confusion creased lines across his forehead. “With a woman?”

“No.” She smiled, slightly embarrassed. “You know, just…alone.”

She was afraid he’d scoff or even laugh, but he seemed to give it serious thought. “Honey, I don’t know who you’ve been with or what was wrong with them, but nothing’s wrong with you. You’re far from frigid. I mean,
far.”

Because of you
, she thought, but loved him for saying it.

“Is this the medical issue you didn’t want to talk about?” When she nodded, he frowned. “I don’t get it, how is Wally to blame?”

She turned on her side to face him. It wasn’t the sort of pillow talk she would have hoped for, but it had to be said. “My therapist said it was because I could never completely trust men after being abandoned by the father I’d adored, especially since it was right at the age of puberty.”

“That’s ridiculous. Isn’t it?”

“I don’t know. I
was
pretty upset and depressed. Of course, I was only twelve so it was still years before I had sex.” She took a deep breath, and gave him the whole story. “My mother had me seeing therapists all that time because she said I’d been traumatized. Looking back, I guess she invented some of that trauma because I never got the story you did about what my father was really doing. She didn’t tell me. And she was always in therapy for her obsessions and fears, so I guess it was natural that she thought I should be, too. And I just accepted that there was something wrong with me. When my first serious boyfriend didn’t, uh, satisfy me, my therapist said I needed a more passive man. He advised me to avoid aggressive, domineering men and be with guys who would never do anything threatening and never demand too much. They were nice guys, Tyler, but maybe too nice.” She shrugged. “I guess the best word for them is milquetoast.”