Suck and Blow: Party Games, Book 1 (10 page)

It had always been Frankie. Always.

No one else.

Even when it wasn’t Frankie in his life, on his arm, in his bed, it was: an unobtainable woman who knew him only as the kid from the poor end of Sydney who kept humiliating her.

And now she was buckled in the seat beside him, gnawing on that bottom lip he knew from personal experience was as soft and full as he’d always imagined it would be. And he knew no one else could ever take her place.

As much as he wanted to pull his car over and kiss her senseless, as much as he wanted to haul her onto his lap and bury himself in her tight, wet heat, he wanted to wait until they were in his home more. In his home, where she could see who he was, what he’d achieved.

In his home, where he’d imagined her being before he’d had a home of his own.

Jesus, Harris. Could you fall any deeper?

He gripped the wheel harder, his heart slamming with such force in his chest he swore he heard his bones creak. Yeah, he was in deep all right. And while it should have scared the shit out of him, all he could do was flick Frankie another look and wish he could fold time so they could be at his house already.

Another intersection drew closer and, as fate would have it, the green light went black and the orange lit up.

Alec ground his teeth.
Fuck this.

He pushed his foot to the accelerator. The powerful V8 engine under the bonnet growled, propelling the ute forward faster, straight through the traffic lights just as they turned red.

Beside him, Frankie shifted in her seat, and he risked another glance at her.

She sat motionless, her eyes closed, her hands balled in her lap. She looked scared.

Alec bit back a muttered curse. “Are you okay?”

Without opening her eyes, Frankie let out a shaky little laugh. “No. I’m so freaking horny every time you put the foot down and the G-forces hit my belly I fear I’m going to come.”

Her declaration sent a surge of fresh, hot blood straight to Alec’s groin. He laughed, the sound just as ragged as hers. “Should I say sorry? Or just drive faster?”

She slid him a sideward glance, her breasts heaving as she drew in a slow, deep breath. “Drive faster.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

Fifteen minutes later, the tension in the cabin so thick he could hardly breathe, his balls hard and his cock in agony, Alec turned into his driveway. The leaves on the ancient weeping eucalyptus trees lining the drive flared a brilliant grey-green as his lights swept over them, their colour vivid in the blackness of the night. He drew the ute to a halt without parking it in the garage, killing the engine with a turn of the key. As stupid as it was, he wanted Frankie to experience the smell and scent of his front yard as they entered his home.

“Every minute with you is more and more surprising, Alley Cat. A home in Mosman, a celebrity client list, a failure to carry condoms on your person…”

Frankie’s statement, uttered in a husky murmur made him turn to her.

She was staring out her side window, taking in the lush native garden with its muted solar lighting and semi-abstract metal sculptures of kookaburras perched together on a corrugated iron pedestal beside the drive.

He studied her, wishing he could see her eyes. “Are they good surprises?”

“Yes.”

Elation rolled over him.

She swung her gaze to his. “Take me inside, Alec. Now.”

For the first time in the five years he’d owned the heritage-listed Victorian bungalow nestled on the edge of the Sydney Harbour National Park, Alec didn’t give a rat’s arse about the garden’s beauty. He didn’t take the time to appreciate the sweet perfume of the native flora on the air, nor the calming calls of wild possums moving through the branches around his home or the soft song of the mating frogmouth owls.

Nothing existed except Frankie.

He watched her climb from his ute, her gaze touching everything around her. The smooth column of her neck as she looked up at the towering Morton Bay fig tree blanketing half the front yard made his chest squeeze. The creamy complexion of her flawless skin in the full moon’s silver light almost brought him to his knees. He wanted to haul her to his body and mark that beauty with his kiss. Brand her his with his lips so the world would know.

Jesus, Harris. You’re not just in deep. You’re way over your head and still sinking.

She turned to look at him, and for a split second Alec swore she looked nervous. “It’s very beautiful.”

“Yes, you are.” The response—so damn clichéd he had to bite back a groan—slipped from him before he could stop it.

Frankie lifted her chin, her stare finding his face. “If you don’t take me inside and make love to me soon, Alec Harris, I think I shall be forced to jump your bones out here in your garden.”

He didn’t need any more prodding. In five steps, he was on his front porch, slamming the key into the lock and swinging the heavy polished oak door wide.

Frankie stepped past him, turning on her heel as she did so to hook her fingers in the waistline of his jeans. She tugged him in to his foyer, the gentle pull on his jeans an encouragement he didn’t need at all.

He kicked the door shut behind him and wrapped his arm around her waist, yanking her to his body. “Just to let you know,” he said, wriggling his other hand between their hips to unzip her fly, “I have a whole box of condoms right down the hall.”

She laughed, and he caught the wonderful sound with his mouth.

He couldn’t hold back. He was so bloody horny, so fucking hot for her, there wasn’t a hope in hell he could restrain himself. He shoved her to the wall, the pictures and awards hanging there rattling on their hooks as he plundered her mouth, her throat, her mouth again with kisses he knew were hungry and aggressive. He snared her wrists and pinned them beside her head as he caught her bottom lip with his teeth. She whimpered, thrusting her hips to his, her heat already teasing his erection through their clothes. He lashed his tongue against hers, a fierce battle he won by sucking her tongue hard. She moaned, fighting his grip on her wrists even as she wrapped one leg around his and ground her sex to his cock.

Jesus.

Agonizing pleasure speared through him. His balls throbbed so hard with lust and need he could barely think. Yanking her hands above her head, he ravished the side of her throat with a greedy kiss, her hoarse, “fuck, yes,” sending fresh blood to his dick. Damn, he wanted to hear her call his name with such raw rapture.

With a low growl, he wrapped one hand around both her wrists and dragged his other down her arm to cup her uplifted breast. He kneaded the soft swell of flesh, loving the way Frankie moaned and panted at his touch. He pinched her nipple through her shirt, and again, her cries made his head spin.

“God, Alec,” she gasped, rolling her hips to push her pussy harder to his groin, “that feels so fucking good.”

He pulled a ragged breath through his nose, staring into her pleasure-etched face. “Tell me you want me to suck your nipple, Frankie.”

She laughed, the sound lost on a gasp as he pinched the puckered tip again. “I want you to suck my nipple. Please. Hard.”

He shoved his hand under her shirt and captured her breast, pushing the hemline up with his forearm before claiming her nipple through her bra with his mouth.

“Oh fuck, yes!”

He sucked hard, holding her breast with one hand and her wrists with the other. Her nipple stiffened more so under his tongue, becoming rock hard and distended. He drew it deeper into his mouth, pulsing his suction as he rolled his tongue over and over its form.

Frankie’s mewling begs and wordless moans grew louder. She pushed her hips forward again, seeking his. He chuckled around her nipple, enjoying the way she tried to pull him closer to her heat with her leg.

But he was in charge of her pleasure. Moving his mouth from her breast, he snagged his fingers under the edge of her bra and yanked it aside, watching in rapt hunger as her creamy flesh was revealed to him.

“You have the hottest breasts I’ve ever seen,” he uttered, dragging his thumb over her moist nipple. A deep thrill shot through him at the feel of his saliva on her skin. It was a primitive, base response of possession and it made his erection jerk in his jeans.

“Seen a few, have you?” Her question was a panted rasp.

He chuckled, raising his gaze from her breast to her face. Her cheeks were flushed with pink heat, her eyes half-shuttered, her lips parted. It was the face of absolute pleasure. “Enough to know yours are superb.” He nipped at her nipple with his lips, and she hitched in a breath, her hips thrusting toward him in a move he knew was beyond her control. “Perfect.”

She laughed, her eyes closing as she tried to tug him to her heat again. “Damn, you always did know the right thing to say, Alley Cat.”

He shook his head, scraping his thumb over her nipple again. “Not true,” he murmured, watching the pulse in her neck beat wildly beneath her skin. “If I did, I would have told you ten years ago I wanted you so fucking much it hurt.”

His confession made her whimper, her eyebrows pulling into a frown he could have sworn was one of grief. “I wish you had.”

“Why?”

She shook her head. “Because we could have been doing this for the last decade.”

The thought made his head swim. Did that mean… He swallowed, biting back the question welling on his lips. “Let’s consider those wasted ten years foreplay, shall we?”

Another low groan sounded in her throat. “Make me come, Alec,” she whispered. “Please, make me come.”

He brushed his lips over hers, releasing his grip on her wrists as he did so. “Gladly.”

His hands found her waistline and he shoved her leather pants down her hips, pushing them as far as they would go before her boots stopped them. It was enough to expose her pussy, the tattooed gun teasing him from behind her lace G-string. Lowering to his knees, he placed his hands on her inner thighs, stroked a thumb over her folds and rolled it over her clit before dipping his tongue between her legs.

She shoved her pussy to his mouth, her hands finding his hair and gripping fast. He stroked his tongue over her folds, the lace of her G-string an erotic friction he both loved and despised. That she wore lace stirred something purely male and chauvinistic inside him. That the lace prevented him touching her completely pissed him off.

With a grunt, he hooked a finger under the thin, skimpy crotch and pulled it aside.

“Oh God…”

Frankie’s exclamation danced over his senses, as did the subtle musk of her juices filling his breath. He rubbed his thumb over her sex, her cream slicking his flesh immediately. She was so wet for him. Sodden with pleasure. Lowering his head, he lapped at her pussy lips, delving between her labia with an insistent stroke before finding her clit. He sucked on its tiny form and Frankie’s hips drove forward with a brutal buck.

“Shit, Alec,” she gasped, her fists balling tighter in his hair, “if you do that again, I’m going to—”

He did it again. And again.

“Fuck,” Frankie cried, the word a long drawn-out groan. “I’m going to come. God, I’m going to—”

He thrust his tongue into her slit, delving it deep, swirling at around before dragging it over her clit once more.

Frankie’s hips convulsed, her pussy weeping juices as her nails dug into his scalp. “Oh God, Alec. I’m…I’m…”

He closed his lips and teeth around her clit. And bit. Gently.

“Fuck!” Frankie’s orgasm erupted from her, sweet cream coating his tongue, his lips, his chin. She ground into his face, bucking over and over again, her cries becoming wordless sounds that made Alec’s balls rise up and his cock flood with hot, impatient need.

And before Frankie could recover from her climax, he stood and threw her over his shoulder, grabbing her naked, glorious arse and holding her tight. The sounds of her breathless laughter trailed them as he strode down the hall to his bedroom, a sound he never believed he’d hear in his home. A sound he wanted to hear every damn day from now on.

Chapter Six

Alec’s bedroom was, as she should have suspected, a surprise. Of course, she only saw it in a blur as he tossed her onto the middle of his bed. But there wasn’t a brown, grey or black anything from the stereotypical colour scheme of the modern single Australian male to be seen. It all seemed made of glass and muted greens, with a massive painting of some lush rainforest hanging on the wall beside the bed and an equally massive painting of the desert on the wall beside the—

“I may not be able to take this slowly.”

The growled statement caressed her ears as Alec pressed her back to the mattress. His weight pinned her to his bed, his hands knotting in her hair, and then his mouth was crushing hers and she pretty much forgot about anything else except how goddamn amazing he made her feel.

She raked her nails over his back, wishing to God he were naked. She wanted to feel his warm, bare flesh under her palms.

He’d made her come so many times tonight. His mouth had explored her breasts, her throat, her sex, but not once, not once had she seen him naked.

That had to change.

But before she could tear her lips from his and demand he strip, he pulled back from her and climbed off the bed to stand at its base.

“I think it’s time I removed some clothing.”

The murmured observation made her chuckle, even as her pussy fluttered with impatient anticipation. She wriggled up the bed and rested on her elbows. “Y’know, I was just thinking that very thing.”

He gave her a boyish grin, the action at odds with the wholly adult hunger she saw smoldering in his eyes, with the utterly
manly
erection she couldn’t help but see straining at his jeans. At the sight of its unmistakable hard bulge trapped behind the denim, a sudden realization dawned on her. Alec had made her come so many times tonight she’d actually lost track, but he’d only come once. Once. In the powder room.

She flicked her gaze up to his face again, noticing the tension in his jaw. He must be in pain. How could he go so long in such a state of arousal? How could he give her release after release after release and not expect her to do the same for him before now? She’d never had such a selfless lover. Like…ever.