Читать книгу Bad Behaviour - Kristin Hardy - Страница 10

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IT WAS DIFFERENT, WAS HER first thought. It was unlike anything she’d ever felt with him. Dom had been gentle once, tentative. But that had been years before. Now, he dove into the kiss, feasting on her mouth, each touch and press igniting the demand for more.

And she dove in headlong after him.

Heat. Hunger. She nipped at him. Her lips parted, more in demand than in invitation. It wasn’t enough just to touch, she needed to taste. She moaned when his tongue stroked against hers, not the long, leisurely swirls she remembered from before but a tantalizing dart and slide that teased more than it satisfied. And before she’d had anything like enough, he backed off, drawing her lower lip into his mouth.

It was the same and yet not the same. The last time they’d kissed, he’d been not much more than a boy. Now, he was a man and she could feel the tickle of his beard.

And she could taste the desire.

More than that, she could feel the strength in his hands and arms, the hard muscle of his body. He was lean and rangy but she felt the power there, felt the solid width of his back as she wrapped herself around him.

The kiss stretched out. Time didn’t matter, only the slide of lip against lip, the slick duel of tongues. It seemed extraordinary that just that morning she’d had no idea whether he even still existed, and now she was so desperate for him that she wanted him everywhere at once.

As though he’d heard her thoughts he shifted to press his lips to her neck as if seeking sustenance. She could only let her head drop back helplessly as his mouth traveled lower, down her throat, into the deep neckline of her dress.

When she’d kissed him last they’d still been amazed and overwhelmed by the novelty of French kissing, by the pleasure that mouth could give mouth. And later, she recalled, by the startling feel of his hands on her breasts, hot even through the fabric of her shirts.

Save for that one startling night behind the garage, hidden away, when he’d put his hands under her bra and scared her a little. They’d never gone further than that, though, and things ended soon after.

She’d wondered about him over the years, wondered how it would have been if she’d capitulated that night. But what could that fourteen-year-old boy have known about making love?

Now, though, he wasn’t fourteen any more. He’d learned in the intervening years, he’d learned all kinds of tricks. Kissing was no longer an end in and of itself, kissing was the invitation—enough to tantalize, to have the tension curling deep inside her, the demand whispering through her veins.

She wasn’t a girl, she was a woman who knew what she wanted.

And what she wanted was him.

DOM HAD WATCHED HER, FELT her on the dance floor, needed until his system throbbed with it. Now, all he wanted to do was devour the softness of her mouth, feel that willowy body against his, sink into her. And when she growled low in her throat and took the kiss deeper, he felt himself harden.

She caught his lip between her teeth and bit down, the flash of pain jolting him for a fraction of an instant before the soft slide of her tongue wiped it away. There was addiction in that wide, mobile mouth. There was addiction in the sweet, spicy taste of her. And all he wanted was more.

He could tell himself he’d approached her because he’d wanted to see her again, wanted to talk with her. But that wasn’t it completely and he knew it because all he really wanted, all he’d wanted from the instant he’d recognized her was this moment of crushing her against him, devouring her mouth with his, rediscovering her taste, her touch, the softness of her lips. Need hammered at him, to have her naked against him, under him, to feel her wet heat as he drove himself into her. He had to have her.

Now.

“I think we should—” Then he inhaled sharply as he felt as much as heard his zipper coming down. “What are you doing?”

Delaney laughed against his lips. “A guy your age, you shouldn’t have to ask that.” And she caught a breath. “Why Jake the Snake, no underwear? A nice private-school boy like you?”

He’d thought he was already as hard as he could get, but at the first brush of her fingers on his bare cock, he swore he turned into granite. “Stop,” he growled when he could get a breath.

“Stop?” she repeated, moving her hand. “Why?”

He was about two seconds away from coming and he didn’t want to waste it like this. “We’re behind a bar, for one thing.”

“So? We used to make out behind a garage.”

“Not like this, we didn’t.” She shifted her motion and he swore. “There are people wandering around.”

“Here?” She glanced at the patio behind them, then slipped her hand in farther. “Those people don’t care what we’re doing. They’re too wrapped up in each other. Besides, isn’t that what vacations are for, a little bad behavior? Come on.” She nibbled on his earlobe. “I dare you.”

“Stop it.”

She furled her fingers more tightly around him. “Don’t you like it?” She pouted.

Oh, he liked it, all right. He liked it enough that he was about ready to drag her off to some dark place, push that dress up around her hips and—

She leaned into his shoulder, draping herself over his leg, licking his neck. “I like it,” she whispered. “I like feeling you hard. I like knowing that I was the one who got you that way.”

She’d never touched him like this when they’d been together. If she had, he could pretty well guarantee that he would have lost it. Even now, all these years later it was taking all his control to hold on against the tempting slip of those clever fingers, the feel of her tongue on his skin.

He slid his hand up over her breast. And when he heard her catch her breath, it was his turn to laugh and still the movement of her wrist. “I think maybe you’d better let me take over,” he said softly, running his hands down over her hips. And slipping one hand stealthily up underneath her short skirt, trailed his fingers over the smooth skin of her inner thighs. She moaned again. He chuckled low in his throat. “Yeah , I think it’s my turn.”

He leaned down and pleasured himself by ravaging her mouth with his, bringing his fingers up higher beneath the silky fabric she wore under her dress. Only to find her already hot and slick and wet. Pure, unadulterated lust slammed through him.

There was nothing like this, using his fingers to touch her and intimately feel her body quake, hearing the inarticulate noises she made against his mouth. Knowing he was bringing her pleasure. Knowing he was taking her to the edge.

And he wanted more. Feeling her wasn’t enough, pressing into one another like the teenagers they’d once been wasn’t enough. He wanted everything, wanted her naked.

Wanted her now.

“Let’s get out of here,” he muttered feverishly. “Where are you staying?”

“Aqua Blue.”

“I’m at La Hacienda. It’s closer.”

“You just said the magic words,” she whispered.

He kissed her hard and then broke away, breathing heavily. “No, the magic words are ‘I have a condom.” ’

She grinned wide and beautiful. “I have lots of them,” she said.

HIS ROOM WAS DARK, the louvered doors closed. The first thing Delaney did was walk over and open them up wide.

“What are you doing?”

“I want to hear the ocean.” She went out on the balcony to look down at the darkened beach, the lights of Cozumel beyond. The top of the waist-high wall surrounding the balcony was a planter full of lush tropical ferns. She turned to face Dom, sitting on the edge of the low wall to enjoy the sight of him coming toward her. He’d been a good-looking kid, but that was nothing compared to how he looked as an adult. The soft boyishness was gone from his face, replaced by hard planes, as though the excess had been stripped away to show the man beneath. It showed even in the way he moved, not a swagger, exactly, but a stride of pure confidence, pure focus.

And she was his focus now.

It made her shiver as he stopped before her, stood between her parted legs. His shirt gapped open, showing the dip and flow of muscle beneath. Slowly, softly, she traced her fingertips over the corrugations in his belly. It quivered at her touch. His breath hissed in.

Intentionally taking her time, Delaney reached for his shirt and unfastened the last button, then pushed the garment off his shoulders. Hands shaking just a little, she unfastened his belt buckle. “Time for this to go, I think,” she said as lightly as she could manage and unbuttoned the waistband of the shorts below. “And these.”

The shorts dropped. His gaze never wavering from hers, he stepped out of the garment and stood there before her, utterly naked and completely gorgeous in the night.

Her mouth went dry. Mesmerized, she slid down off the balcony edge. “So I guess it’s true what they say about big hands.”

“Why don’t you get some of your clothes off? It’s hot out here,” he murmured, reaching for the hem of her dress but she moved her hands away.

“You’re right, it is hot,” she said quickly, sinking down on the chaise lounge tucked in a corner of the balcony. “And I bet it’s going to get hotter.”

She’d never actually seen him when they’d been kids, never touched him intimately. She’d been in the middle of a memory storm all night, but in this moment, everything was new. This had nothing to do with the Jake she’d known as a boy. This was Dom, the man. He came to her now. And as she nuzzled the silky soft skin of his cock, she knew that this was what she had wanted.

And oh, he had a beautiful cock, long and thick, standing up stiff and hard. She pointed her tongue and licked the small ridge below the base of his glans.

He made a little involuntary sound.

Delaney smiled and did it again, harder this time. Then she licked him from base to tip, stroking that sensitive patch of skin over and over, feeling his cock twitch with her every touch. Tilting her head slightly, she opened her mouth to suck on the shaft so that her lips were half around him, moving her head just to tease him, letting him feel the warm heat on one side and nothing on the other. She held him in place with one hand, slid the other up his back, over the marble-hard cheeks of his ass.

And she was betting it was a perfect ass, but as hard as it was, it was nothing compared to his cock. Hunger stirred in her and she substituted her hand for her lips, stroking the hard shaft of him as she positioning her mouth over his glans. And then she took him deep and fast.

It ripped a groan from him. And how was it that as she licked his most sensitive spots, she was the one who was feeling the growing heat of arousal between her thighs? There was no mouth on her breasts, no hands between her thighs, only the sound and the textures, the hard and the soft of giving him pleasure. She moved the circle of her mouth over his shaft, working him with one hand below, where she couldn’t reach.

And then she took a breath and bobbed her head down, taking him deep, taking him all the way in.

A curse exploded out of his lips. His fingers clutched her shoulders, digging in mindlessly as she did it again, then once more. And then he was holding her head with shaking hands. “Stop or I’m going to lose it right now.”

“So lose it.”

“No way. There’s too much else I want to do.” He drew her to her feet. “And the first thing is to get you out of that dress.”

He dragged the green fabric up over her head. Delaney raised her arms up to help him, laughing softly. “Aren’t you worried about being naked out on the balcony?”

“I don’t give a damn,” he muttered, pressing her back down on the chaise. “Besides, if you’d stop arguing and lay back, you’d be out of sight.”

And with a chuckle of delight, she obeyed.

For a minute, he simply stood and stared at her. It made Delaney’s breath come faster, the look of total absorption, discovery in his eyes. Then he started to touch. His hands were urgent and a little bit rough as he unsnapped the clasp of her bra and peeled back the cups. Like being tugged out of the bar, it turned her on in some elemental way. She liked it a little rough. She liked him rough.

When he bent to her, she drew in a breath of giddy expectation. She could feel the heat of his mouth on her skin. At the touch of his tongue on her nipple, she said his name. But when he blew on it, bringing her a momentary chill, he won a moan from her. And the dark red nub furled into a tight bead.

Delaney stared in awe. “You didn’t know how to do this in eighth grade.”

As though ravenous, he drew her nipples into his mouth one at a time, sucking them, licking them as he molded her breasts with his hands. Each touch sent a pulse through her body, setting up an answering throb of arousal lower down. Lightly, playfully he bit at one of her nipples with his teeth, sending a sensation through her like an electrical shock.

She jolted and gave a strangled cry. “You definitely didn’t know how to do this back in eighth grade,” she gasped, fighting for breath as he did it again.

He shifted, licking his way down over her flat belly. “I’ve learned a few things since then. Want me to show you?”

“Show and tell was always my favorite part of school,” she managed, moving against that wet, tantalizing touch, the light brush of fingers that had her shivering.

“Me, too. Although maybe I should concentrate on the tell part—I’m better with my mouth.” He moved down, settling between her parted legs, curving his arms around them, his rough cheek next to her skin.

Delaney prepared for his onslaught, but all he did was lick first one thigh, then another. Slowly, he kissed his way closer to where she ached for him to touch her. When he finally did, it was only with the tip of his tongue, stroking those private lips folded protectively together. She quivered at the contact. He gave a long, leisurely stroke of his tongue, then another, tracing a gradual furrow into where she was already slick and hot and wanting. With his fingers, he traced the dip, then for a breathless, whirling instant, he opened her to his gaze, his breath.

And then the shocking heat of his mouth was on her.

Her body bucked against him. He’d learned, oh, he’d learned since junior high, things she’d never had any idea of back then. Liquid caresses, slick patterns that tormented as much as they satisfied. If his tongue had teased her in their kisses, that was nothing compared to what it was doing to her now, flicking over her clit, stroking it. And each touch sent a pulse of arousal to every part of her body. She moved helplessly, moaned as the tension wound tighter, like an arc of heat across her hips.

When he brought one of his hands back under her, she barely noticed. Until his fingertips moved lower to find other places, other sensations even as his tongue and lips drove her relentlessly.

She didn’t know she could teeter so completely on the edge of orgasm, be dragged higher and higher still without going over. She was stretched tight as a wire, heart pounding, lungs tight, every fiber of her focused on that one spot where he used his mouth, his lips and tongue to torment her with desire. Then he pushed his fingers inside her and it was that that had the orgasm exploding through her, tearing a strangled gasp from her throat even as she jolted against him.

He didn’t stop, though. He kept at her with his mouth, so that the climax went on and on. And startlingly, instead of ebbing away into hypersensitivity, the sensations began to swell again to another peak, this one bigger, more powerful. She cried out in shock, in arousal, in pleasure, and when she finally went, it rocketed through her body, wracking her with intensity, sending her shaking against him with a single, long gasping cry.

Followed by helpless laughter.

He raised his head. “You’re laughing?” he growled. “You’re not supposed to be laughing. You’re supposed to tell me this was a life-changing experience.”

“Oh, it was, it was,” she assured him, giggling helplessly. “But we’d better get inside before someone calls the policia on us.”

“More like the Federales. They probably thought someone got murdered.”

“They don’t call it the little death for nothing.” She levered herself upright and sagged against him, finding her legs almost too weak to hold her up. “Although I’m not usually so loud.”

He moved back to let her through the door. “I’m not buying that,” he said, following her into the room. “I bet you make all kinds of noises.” He caught her around the waist from behind and swung her onto the bed, making her yelp. “Like that.”

She turned into him with a throaty chuckle. “Give me reasons to make noise and you’ll see.”

And then he did and the laughter was forgotten.

How extraordinary it was that they could morph that quickly from heated intensity to laughter and back to passion. His mouth was urgent against hers, his hands demanding on her breasts. When she slid her fingers down, she found his cock harder than ever, almost flat up against his belly.

“Tell me you were serious about those condoms,” he said hoarsely.

“In my bag, on the bedside bureau.”

He handed it to her. With clumsy fingers, she dug out the condom, tore open the package. “Roll over on your back,” she murmured.

“Wait, I want to—”

“Roll over.” She pressed his shoulder.

DON COULDN’T REMEMBER having been so turned on in his entire life. His cock ached, he ached with the need to drive himself into her. He waited to feel her roll on the condom.

Instead, he felt the warm heat of her tongue. And his fingers clenched the sheets. “I want to be in you,” he said raggedly. Then he realized that she was rolling the condom onto him with her mouth. And even through the latex, he felt the soft stroking pressure that had him grinding his teeth. “You really are trying to drive me crazy, aren’t you?” His voice was tight with strain.

Delaney just chuckled, but she started using her hand, too, to speed things up.

He wasn’t sure if that made things better or worse.

And then it was on. She worked her way up to straddle him. “Now, what was that about being in me?” she murmured.

He caught her by the shoulders and flipped her onto the mattress and poised himself over her. She looked like some goddess of eroticism, her eyes large and dark, her lips swollen from his. And with a mischievous, knowing smile, she reached down to take him in her hands, to rub him through the slickness between her thighs.

It had come to this, all the anticipation, all the banter, all the caresses. It had come to this breathless moment when it was just the two of them, their naked bodies and no barrier at all between what was him and what was her.

And then he pumped his hips and the two were one.

It tore a cry from her, a cry echoed by his groan.

“Is it all right?” He trembled with the effort of not moving in the sheath of her tight, wet heat.

She let out a held breath. “Oh, yeah,” she said, and he began to slide, cautiously, clenching his jaw with the need for control. “Oh, glory, it’s better than all right,” she breathed. “And it’ll be better still when you really fuck me.”

“That’s what I’m doing,” he told her.

“No, right now you’re trying to be careful, trying to go slow.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Trust me, big boy, you won’t.”

Gradually, his strokes lengthened, deepened until he was moving rhythmically. He’d tried to imagine it all those years ago, taken the stories he’d heard, the kisses he’d stolen, the fevered moments he’d had of finding his own private release. He’d tried to imagine what it would be like to slide into her, how soft, how slick, how hot.

He’d fallen miserably short of the mind-blasting pleasure. She was under him, lithe and strong, her legs around his waist, pumping her hips against him, tightening on every stroke so that every inch of him was straining to hold himself back. And oh, those throaty little moans of hers worked on him, pushing him even closer to the point of no return.

“Come on,” Delaney muttered, clutching his back, wrapping her legs up higher. “You can do better than that. Let it go, let it go. Oh, like that.” Her voice rose like an incantation as he pumped harder, faster. He felt her rake his back with her nails and the last vestiges of civilization fell away. Unleashed, he stroked into her, searching out his own ecstasy, hearing hers in her cries.

Pleasure became pain, pain became pleasure, labels irrelevant in the face of such utter sensory overload. Delaney felt him so deep she thought he was going all the way through her. Every instant she was sure she couldn’t take another moment of it, and she couldn’t bear to have it end as each stroke dragged her past any feeling she’d ever known. So she clutched at his slippery back, trying to hold on to her sanity even as she cried out without volition, her body drawn tight with tension. She felt the orgasm looming, building, swelling, enormous and more intense than she’d ever felt before with anyone.

Head flung back on the pillow, she opened her eyes and found Dom staring down at her, his eyes burning with heat, his face taut. “Come on, give it to me,” he muttered and slammed into her hard.

And suddenly the climax exploded along her entire body, shaking her, shattering her into a million burning pieces. Dimly, she heard herself crying out and felt Dom stroke a handful of times more before he spilled himself into her while she was still convulsing.