The Storm That Is Sterling (25 page)

Her fingers walked a path downward to the base of his erection, and then she caressed straight to the tip. His cock jerked instantly with the pleasure.

Becca sucked in a breath and tried to pull her hand away, her eyes seeking his. And before he could stop himself, he stole a little piece of that control he’d vowed to relinquish to her. His hand closed around hers, wrapping her fingers around his cock. “Don’t stop,” he ordered, barely recognizing the husky voice as his own.

Her teeth scraped her bottom lip, and he all but moaned. Lust licked at his limbs like a four-alarm fire. That soft, amber gaze of hers so often full of innocent uncertainty flickered to his face, innocence no longer there. Instead, her eyes shimmered with a combination of desire and hesitation. And then, blessed be, her hand tightened around him.

“Oh yeah, sweetheart,” he said hoarsely, releasing her hand, allowing her that freedom of choice, as long as it involved her hand on his cock.

“You like that?” she asked, more teasing than confirming.

“Just to be clear,” he said, his voice gravely and affected. “You pretty much can do anything you want to me… and I’ll like it. Aside from the use of teeth, that is.” Amending quickly, he added, “If used in limited capacity, of course, teeth can be kind of sexy and remain on the table for acceptable use. And being a scientist and all, I know you have an experimental instinct. Feel free to go with that. Just let it ride.”

She laughed, loosening her grip on him, teasing him with her fingers. “I’ve never known anyone quite like you before, Sterling.”

“Ditto to you, sugarplum,” he managed, despite her voice strumming along his nerve endings like a musical aphrodisiac, helping her hand kill him with lust. Oh yeah. He was going to die if he didn’t feel the wet heat of her body wrapped around him in the real near future.

Her smile widened, her hand working him mercilessly, pumping him. She had control all right. He had a love-hate thing about that too. He wanted to take control and rip off her clothes.
Her, naked, now.

“I should probably tell you,” she said softly, her lashes lowering, her gaze hot as she watched her hand exploring his cock. “My experimenting has been limited to a lab.”

Hell yes. He loved that. “Baby, it turns me on just thinking about being the guy that changes that.” He closed his hand around hers again, around the pulsing heat of his erection, moving their hands together, moving his hips in rhythm. “The idea of being the one to make you wetter and hotter than any other man ever has—you feel how turned on it makes me?”

Her chin jerked upward, her expression registering shock. “You’re outrageously bold.”

“You like it,” he said. “And if you don’t get naked soon, I’m going to do it for you.”

“I’m not ready yet,” she said, smiling. Soft. Sexy. Playful. And then she went to her knees. Holy crap and thank you Lord. She was going to put that sweet little mouth on him. “I’ll need to do some research before undressing,” she said, staring up at him, his cock jutted out mere inches from her lips. She closed her hand around the base of his shaft. “Tell me. How does this feel?” She touched the tip of it with her tongue. He moaned with the sensation. “I’ll take that as a ‘good.’” She drew the head into her mouth and then rolled her tongue around him. “And that?”

“Good,” he said. She arched a brow. “Do it again, and I’ll judge better.”

She did, and silently, he commanded.
Suck
me
deeper.
His hand went to her head, the words lodged in his throat as he reminded himself he’d vowed to give her choice and control. Ah, but she seemed to know what he wanted. She drew him deeper and deeper, a sliding motion up and down his length that had his hips pumping again, which felt damn good, until a sudden thought slid into clarity.

She was hiding from her own pleasure, from the vulnerability of losing herself to that need. That’s why she wasn’t naked. That’s why she was on her knees. And he was letting her. Selfishly taking what she offered by convincing himself he was giving her freedom of choice, when what she needed was freedom all right. Freedom from pain, fears… inhibitions.

With forced willpower he eased Becca away and went down on his knees in front of her. “What are you doing?” she asked, instant confusion clouding her lovely eyes, uncertainty flickering in her face.

“Kissing you,” he said, pulling her close, one hand twining into her silky mass of raven hair, the other sliding up her back, molding her closer, pressing her soft curves and full breasts against him.

Sterling kissed her like he was making love to her, using his tongue to caress, coax, and yes—to heck with handing over control—demand. He took his time, seducing, making love to her with his mouth. And when he thought for certain he’d kissed away her insecurity, he vowed, “I’m going to make you come. And then come again. And then come some more.” He pulled on her shirt hem and tugged it over her head, her bra quickly following. “Say and do all kinds of things to make you call me outrageous and make sure you love every one of them.”

His gaze raked hungrily over her bare upper body. Her breasts weren’t large, but they were high and full, the perfect size for his hand. “You’re beautiful,” he said. “I love your nipples.” He played with one of them, tweaked it. “All rosy pink and plump. Perfect for my mouth.”

“Sterling!” Becca said. “Do you say whatever comes to mind?”

“You have a problem with me telling you I love your nipples?” he asked, molding her breast to his palm and kneading.

“No,” she said softly.

“Good,” he said, dipping his head down and lapping one with his tongue, his arm still supporting her from behind. One lick, nip, and yes, bite, at a time. His teeth scraped her nipple, and she moaned with pleasure. “That’s how you use teeth properly,” he declared proudly before kissing her again. “Damn, I like how you taste.” He kissed her again. “All hot and sticky sweet.” He took her down on the carpeted floor. “I want to know how the rest of you tastes.”

He pressed his mouth to her neck, her collarbone, those hot little nipples again, and continued to travel, until his tongue dipped into her navel. Her flat, sexy tummy quivered with the touch.

It didn’t take him any time to strip away the rest of her clothes. He kissed his way from her ankle up to her knee, and then gently nudged her legs farther apart.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he said. “Open for me.”

She raised to her elbows. “Sterling,” she whispered, nervous energy pouring off of her.

His hands slid up her thighs. “This is where you lie back down and enjoy this as much as I’m going to.”

“I can’t—”

“You can.” He slid his fingers along her core, and she moaned. “See how good that feels.” He caressed her some more, coaxing another moan, his gaze meeting hers as he continued to touch her, intentionally pushing her to let go of her inhibitions. “You’re so hot and wet. Just the way I like you.”

She fell backward, sighing in an admission of defeat, giving herself to him. A smile touched his lips, one born of satisfaction, of conquest. His fingers explored, playing with her like a kid would a new toy, discovering hidden secrets—triggers that made her moan, sigh again, arch her back.

When she looked at him with bedroom eyes that begged him to take her, he gave them both the ultimate reward, the pot of gold, almost as good as having that hot, wet heat wrapped around his cock. His tongue lapped at her swollen clit, and she arched into him, breasts high in the air, fingers digging into the carpet. He suckled and caressed with a tongue experienced in such devilish acts, but never so eager to perform. Expertly he used his fingers to stroke and caress, to drive her to the edge, then he took her to a shuddering climax that had her muscles milking his fingers, the sweet honey of her release pouring around them.

She gasped with the impact as the moment faded, her gaze bouncing off his in a red-faced flush of embarrassment as she turned her head away.

“Oh no,” he said. “Don’t even think about it.”

He reached for her and in one easy move sat up against the wall and pulled her on top of him, his cock pressed to her backside, swollen and pulsing.

Shoving her loose hair away from her face, he told her, “We don’t do embarrassment, you and I. We are just getting started, sweetheart, just cracking the door on a long night that’ll never end.”

“Sterling—”

He kissed her, silently telling her what words already had, then met her gaze and said, “That was fucking beautiful—just like you are. Understand?”

She kissed him. Slid that sweet little tongue right into his mouth and took him like he planned to do her.

His hands went to her hips as he shifted her weight. She obeyed the command, the one that said—let me the fuck in before I die—and her hands went to his shoulders, anchoring herself to take him.

He nudged open her feminine lips and eased his shaft inside her, intending to go slow, but she didn’t seem to agree. Becca slid down him in one fast, hard move that sent the head of his cock driving into her core. A blast of pleasure rocketed through him with such force it about shot his heart out of his chest.

They connected, intimately joined like their minds had been. And when she pulled back, searching his face, he knew she felt it too, the undeniable bond between them. Intense. Consuming. Seconds passed, their bodies smoldering, unfamiliar emotion expanding in his chest. This woman was doing something to him, taking him over, reaching right inside him and touching his soul. And all he could think was how much he wanted her to keep doing it.

His hands settled on her waist, pressing her down, swiveling his hips, urging her to move with him. A slow, sultry dance of lusty need started. She braced herself on his shoulders, her breasts bouncing with each pump and thrust. He palmed them, kneading, molding. Then he pulled her nipples between his fingers so that each movement of her body applied just the right amount of erotic pressure on the sensitive peaks. She rewarded him with soft sounds of pleasure.

He watched her face, the way her lips parted, her brows dipped. Passion colored her ivory perfect skin. She was fucking beautiful, just as he’d told her she was, and in a way he’d never thought a woman could be. She did it for him. She was the beginning, the middle, and the end.

She gasped and buried her face in his shoulder. He pressed her close, pressed deep inside her as she moved in a frenzied rush that said she was on the edge… about to come. And he took her there, took them there, pumping hard and fast, molding her closer and tighter, until she stiffened in a moan a second before her body grabbed a hold of his cock and spasmed around him.

Somewhere in the near distance, a shattering sound splintered through the air. A glass, no two, maybe three, shattered with her orgasm. He didn’t care, and she didn’t seem to either. She clung to him, and he pulled her down hard on his shaft, thrusting into her one more long, hard time. With a low, guttural groan, he exploded, spilling his seed inside her, seeing nothing but the black place in his mind that exploded in the colors of pleasure.

Long seconds later, they collapsed against each other, and he could have held her like that forever. She ran her fingers through his chest hair and leaned back to stare at him, sudden awareness rushing over her features. “I think I broke something when I…”

He arched a brow. “Came? Had an orgasm? Rocked my world?”

She flattened her hands on his chest. “You love to make me blush, don’t you?”

His lips curved, and he ran his knuckles along her cheek, right where the flush of red appeared. “You’re very pretty when you blush.”

“Thank you,” she said shyly, like there was any reason to be shy with him at this point. Damn, she was adorable and sexy.

“I loved making you so hot you shattered glass,” he confessed. “It’s good for a guy’s ego. But if it really bothers you, we can try that whole anchor thing. You need to practice controlling your reactions.” He wiggled an eyebrow. “We can use orgasm as practice. But I do have to ask. Are you using me for sex? Because, you know, if you are, I can live with it. I just want to know.” Oddly, what started as a joke left him hungry for an answer, his insides twisted in a knot, waiting.

“I’m dying, Sterling,” she said, suddenly serious. “Of course, I’m using you for sex.”

His heart splintered in a thousand pieces with those words, and he framed her face with his hands. God, how he’d hoped they were Lifebonds, that he would save her that easily. But he wasn’t giving up, and he wouldn’t let her give up. “You are not going to die,” he said. “I won’t let you.”

“That,” she whispered, “is just outrageous, and please just stop bringing this up.” Anger filtered into her voice. “Saying it… that you can save me… is mean.” She pushed away from him, trying to get up.

He held onto her. “Becca—”

“Don’t,” she said. “Let me up.”

He pulled her close and buried his face in her neck, inhaling her soft scent. “No. I won’t.” Instead, he pushed to his feet and carried her to that hot bath she wanted. After that, he’d feed her and take her to his bed. And if she wanted to argue, he had no problem showing her who was in control.

If he pretended it was him instead of her, maybe she would believe him.

***

Sabrina sighed with the sweet bliss of satisfaction as Iceman rolled off of her and sat up on the edge of the bed, disposing of the condom. He insisted on using one even though she’d told him she was on the pill and disease free.