He hooked his finger over her bra, right between her breasts, pulled. “Your turn.”
Still, she hesitated. He moved closer, took her in his arms, rolled her on top of him.
What began as a light and teasing kiss quickly turned dark and impatient. He pushed his tongue past her teeth and tangled with hers, a moan escaping him to finally have her sexy body here, now, alone, for as long as he wanted. Her body was heavy on his, deliciously real, soft, erotic. While he distracted her with his mouth, his hands found the dress’s zipper down her back and jerked it down. Then he slipped his hands inside, finding skin, glorious skin, velvety soft and warm.
She broke the kiss and wiggled around on top of him. Hands and knees braced on the bed, she sat up and straddled him, her hair a shining cloud falling around her shoulders. Full lips, ripe and parted. High cheekbones under those wide-set eyes that were looking at him the way he’d dreamed—awake and asleep—she’d look at him. With molten, eager desire.
Her fingers wrapped around his cock and squeezed. “You’re huge,” she said.
Jaw clenching, he arched his back, dug his fingers into her thighs.
She worked him harder, not afraid, gently demanding, perfect.
He wouldn’t last if she kept doing that. My God. Just another minute, another second—
With a groan, he grabbed her wrists, flipped her onto her back. “Your turn.” Stroking her shoulders, he explored her warm, inviting body, over her heavy, soft breasts, the gentle curves of her stomach, her hips, between her thighs. So hot.
God, finally.
“You’re good at that.”
Seizing her mouth again with his, he pulled the stretchy fabric down over her shoulders, her chest, her stomach, her hips, and then, without stopping to admire the push-up bra or the crimson red panties, he had the clasps unfastened and the elastic shoved out of the way and finally, Rose stretched out under him naked, gorgeous, and willing.
He left the stockings where they were. He liked those.
As he admired her, light-headed, hypertensive, he realized she’d said something. “Good at what?” he asked.
“Flipping people over.”
He looked in her eyes, saw her smile. “Years of judo.” He stretched out on top of her again, mouth against her mouth, then moved lower, determined to wipe that grin off her face. Too wild with raw, blinding need to make jokes.
She pushed her breasts together for him, an offering, and he gratefully sucked a silky pink nipple into his mouth and wondered just how long he was going to last this first time.
Once wouldn’t be enough. There was too much of her for just once.
Her nipple pebbled in his mouth, he felt her arch, heard her moan. The sting of her nails raking his back made him suck harder. With the tip of his fingers, he traced the soft curve of her hip, then returned, finally, to the thatch of curls between her legs. He ventured deeper.
Moving his mouth to her other breast, he licked, blew, sucked. She cried out, driving her fingers through his hair to encourage him, then freezing under him when his fingers continued their exploration between her legs. He dipped a finger in an inch, then deeper, groaning with satisfaction to discover she was wet, slick, hot.
He let the nipple slide out of his mouth and kissed his way down her rounded belly, over the navel ring, the silky skin, and down between her legs to the fair curls.
* * *
Just in time, Rose reached for his face and held it between her palms. The roughness of his jaw felt so good against her fingers, almost as good as it did on her inner thighs.
She hoped he would understand. “Please don’t,” she said softly. “I don’t like that.”
With a laugh, he broke free from her grip and nuzzled his face between her legs again.
“Seriously, no.” Squeezing her thighs together, she twisted to one side. “I really don’t.”
His head lifted. He stared at her. “I’m not just doing it to be polite. I really like it.”
“Well, I don’t.” She put her hands over her breasts, turning further away, fighting a familiar feeling of inadequacy. Some people—some women—could open themselves up that way. She just couldn’t. Never could.
“All right, sweetie.” His hands curled around her hips, fingers digging under her bottom. “How about here?” He dropped little kisses on the tops of her thighs, right above the band of her stockings.
“That’s—oh!”
Teeth.
She gasped. “That’s fine.”
Handsome backside up in the air, he worked his way down her legs, over her knees, his mouth and hands exploring every inch. Reassured his tongue wasn’t going to attempt another go between her legs, she sank back, closed her eyes, let herself feel.
His light touch on her feet made her draw up her legs with a squeal. “That tickles.”
He crawled back up her body, kissed her open-mouthed. “How about this? This okay?”
“Mmm,” she replied, kissing him back.
His hand glided between her legs, cupping her but not going in. “This?”
She clutched his shoulders. “Yes,” she whispered.
“I love that you’re so wet,” he said in her ear, penetrating her with his fingers, sliding in and out, more and more.
Not enough. “Now,” she said, digging her nails into his skin.
“You first,” he said, low and breathless. “I want this to be really good for you.”
Her reply was to capture his penis in her hand while she sucked his tongue into her mouth.
He angled his mouth to kiss her deeper, then broke away to deal with the condom. She could hear him breathing, see the sheen of sweat on his bare shoulders.
He dropped a hand next to her head on the pillow, kissed her temple. “Next time will be better,” he said roughly, shoving her legs apart with one knee.
“Now,” she said, “I want—oh!”
He was inside her, hard and sudden. Then he withdrew, pushed into her again. “
Rose
,” he gasped.
Her mouth fell open in a silent cry, stunned by the force of him. All her senses focused on the filling, breaking sensation deep inside her. He felt so good. Each thrust a caress, giving and taking.
She reached around him to help guide his hips, enjoying the feel of his slick skin, the taut muscles, straining and flexing as he pounded into her.
“
Mark
,” she whispered, not believing it was him, that he could be the one doing this to her.
His rhythm increased, the force of each movement faster, harder. She lifted her knees, let her feet fall to either side, silently begging him to take all of her, go deeper, hit that spot inside her again, again, again
.
And then his hand was between their bodies. Rubbing her slowly at first, then faster as she moaned, he found the perfect pace and pressure to send her up into tight, perilous need.
His breath was ragged, matching hers. She felt his own building urgency and hoped he was enjoying it as much as she was, hoped he would stay a little while after they were done, and then she wasn’t hoping for anything except that the blinding, shattering explosion of her climax would last forever.
Chapter 16
THE SUN WOKE HER UP.
Mark’s face was above hers, watching her sleep.
“Did you let John go down on you?” he asked.
She closed her eyes. “Good morning to you, too.”
His hand was on her tummy, gently stroking, almost as distracting as his penis pressing into her thigh. They’d made love once more after the first frenzied time, slow and drowsy. Even now, with his naked body stretched along hers in the bed, she found it hard to believe the confident, talented lover from the night before was her stumbling, shy, awkward, antisocial ex-neighbor.
She brushed a swath of light brown hair off his forehead. The morning sun made his eyes seem bluer than she’d realized, almost as blue as the midday sky.
Which was what she saw out the window. No fog, no haze—bright, midday light.
She started. “What time is it?”
Kissing her neck, he found her nipple and gently kneaded it between his fingers. “Who cares?”
“Seriously, what time is it?”
He drew back, his eyes narrowing. “Why, do you have a date?”
“More like an appointment. I have to get dressed.” She rolled out of bed, found her phone mixed in the folds of last night’s outfit. Crap. Already 11:51. She hurried into the bra and panties, but she couldn’t wear that dress without looking like a hungover, wrung-out Elvira.
He braced himself up on his elbow, the sheet tangled around his waist. His sexy, piercing gaze raked over her as she struggled into her underwear.
He was incredibly hot. But not helping. “Can you please get up?” she asked. “I don’t know how much time I’ve got before they get here.”
He glanced down at himself. “I’ve been up for a while.” Then he looked back up at her and frowned. “Before who gets here?”
“People are looking at the house today.”
Grinning, he flopped onto his back. “I’d think you’d want to scare away potential buyers for as long as possible.” He stretched out, wiggled his toes. “I think I should stay right where I am.”
Her eyes fell on the chaos of bedding. “Oh, God. I’ve got to get that put back together.”
He still wasn’t getting out of bed. Where had she put her suitcase? The closet. Right. She jogged out into the hall and pulled it out, unzipped it, dug through for jeans and a T-shirt. Oh, clean underwear, too.
Shivering in the hallway, she wriggled out of last night’s thong and pulled on something cotton and clean. Not sexy, but Mark would understand.
If they got together again later today…
No time to think about that right now.
Breathing a sigh of relief as she pulled the shirt over her head, Rose kicked the suitcase back into the closet. Then she realized they might look inside so she pulled it back out, zipped it up neatly, rolled it in next to the other bags, and closed the door.
There. Now if only Mark would get up, they could make the bed and go out for brunch somewhere. Luckily she hadn’t made a mess in the kitchen. Or the bathroom. Which reminded her she really, really had to brush her teeth.
“Mark, I hope you’re getting up! Sylly will be here any minute with those friends of his!” she called out before she closed the bathroom door. Her toiletries were already neatly out of sight in the cabinet where she’d put them yesterday afternoon. After a quick pee, a teeth-brushing, a facial-cleansing wipe, a swipe of deodorant, a spritz of jasmine body spray, and a dab of lip gloss, she was ready. No, not quite. She had to compensate for the lack of a shower somehow. Another squirt of the jasmine and some eyeshadow, a little powder on her nose.
There.
And then she wiped the sink with a paper towel and hid it under the sink.
Now
she was ready—except for the bed. God, where had she put the binder of photographs the stager had given her? Hall table. She scurried down the hall, peeking into the master bedroom to make sure Mark wasn’t snoozing with his sexy bare ass in the air.
She froze.
The bed was made, the pillows were arranged. Just as ridiculously mountainous and symmetrical as before. Even the rose slanted in its vase at a perfect twenty-degree angle.
Mark was nowhere to be seen.
“Mark?”
The doorbell chimed. Mozart, she thought. It went on and on,
dum dum da dum, da de da de da dum…
She raised her voice. “Mark?”
But then there was laughter, and several voices coming from the front of the house.
“Rose? You here?” Sylly’s booming voice, not Mark’s.
Was he hiding in a closet somewhere?
Had he
left
?
“I’m here! Just leaving!” she called out.
She scanned the bedroom for her dress and stockings, used condoms or their wrappers, then gave up and went to greet Sylly and his potential homebuyers on her way out the door.
* * *
How can I not have her cell number?
Mark thought. He scrolled through his contacts as though Rose’s number would magically appear.
Any minute now his mom would realize he was parked in the driveway. She knew he’d gone out with Rose last night, had certainly noticed he hadn’t come home.
Would she wag a finger at him for not calling? Or book the wedding chapel?
He needed an alibi before his mother got the wrong idea. Or had any ideas at all.
He called his sister, knowing it was early for the little party girl, but desperate.
“Mark, what the fuck?” she groaned over the line after six rings. “It’s practically still dark out.”
“I need a favor,” he said.
“What?” Her voice got muffled as she spoke away from the phone—to someone in her apartment, probably a boyfriend. “Okay, Mark. Hello? Are you dying or something? Should I call 9-1-1?”
“Not yet. I need you to lie for me,” he said, eyeing the house. The spiders weren’t half as horrifying as the woman inside. “Back me up when I tell Mom I was at your place last night.”
“What? Why…” she trailed off, then squealed. “Did you finally get laid?”
“Just tell her I was there, okay? I went to the city for Halloween but didn’t want to deal with traffic on the way home, so I crashed on your couch.”
“Where were you
really
?”
“Please. Just back me up.”
“You have to tell me everything.”
He snorted into the phone.
“That’s my price,” she said. “You’re asking me to lie to the woman who gave me life.”
“Can’t you just do something nice for nothing for once?”
“How do I know it was nice?” she said. “You’re not talking.”
“April,” he said through his teeth. “I can’t tell you everything.”
“Then I’m sure Mom can tell me.”
He sank lower in his seat, eyes on the house. Any minute now she was going to come out and see everything in his eyes. His mother had always seen right through him.
“Fine,” he spat out. “It’s my neighbor. But I’m not telling you any more.”
“You slept with a pregnant chick? Dude, that’s—”
“No. The other one. Her roommate. Well, not anymore. She moved out.”
“And you followed, huh? What’s her name?”
“Later. I have to go inside.”
“Her name or I spill.”