Do Me Right

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He ran his hand across her stomach, pausing to play with the charm in her belly-button ring. “Cute,” he said.

“I don’t like to think of myself as cute,” she said.

“No, you’re too tough for that, aren’t you?”

She didn’t feel very tough now, as he slid his hand up farther to cup the underside of her breast. She gasped, arching toward him.

“Mmm, you do feel good.” He lowered the zipper on the front of the vest and pushed aside the two halves of the garment. Cool air rushed across her breasts and her nipples tightened.

He cradled first one breast, then the other, her fullness spilling over his fingers. He trailed his thumb in circles around each breast, each circle smaller than the last, drawing closer but never quite touching the sensitive nipples.

With a strangled cry of frustration, she arched toward him, swaying a little on her high heels.

“Take off your shoes.”

She kicked aside the heels.

“Now put your hands on my shoulders.”

She did so, wondering what he would do next. She liked foreplay as much as the next gal, but this slow, deliberate exploration was driving her crazy.

He turned his attention to her breasts again, shaping them with his hand, squeezing them. He bent and she felt the hot, wet caress of his tongue and couldn’t hold back a moan of pure pleasure as he took her nipple into his mouth.

She leaned into him, gripping his shoulders to keep from sinking to the floor. His mouth was devastatingly thorough, sucking and licking and teasing first one breast and then the other. Every tug of his mouth set up a corresponding tension in her womb. She was wet and swollen and had to clamp her mouth shut to keep from begging him to satisfy her.

He smoothed his hand up her thigh, all the way to her waist, where he grasped the elastic of her tights and pulled. “Let’s get you out of these, all right?”

She couldn’t shed the hose fast enough, supporting herself with one hand on his shoulder while he helped her divest herself of them. Her skirt followed shortly, and her panties, leaving her naked.

She cursed the blindfold that kept her from seeing his expression. He was silent for a couple of minutes, and she knew he was studying her. She hugged her arms across her chest and scowled at him. “What is it? Never saw a tattooed woman before?”

“Not one with such a lovely canvas to work on.” He pulled her arms away, coaxing them around him once more, then hugged her closer still, his cast braced at her back, his free hand reaching down between them to cover her crotch. “You are ready for me, aren’t you?” he whispered, his tongue in her ear as his fingers slid into her.

She thrust against him hard, unable to hold back. Her body wasn’t paying any attention to her mind anymore. She’d been reduced to this all-consuming need. A moment longer and she was sure her legs wouldn’t be able to support her anymore. She’d be melted from the inside out.

And then she was swept up into his arms and he was carrying her across the room. “Where’s the bedroom?” he asked.

“First door on the right.”

She braced herself for a rough landing on the bed, but he managed to lay her down gently, the cast scraping a little at her back. For a pretty average-size guy, he was strong. Everywhere she laid her hand, she met with hard muscle, the kind that didn’t come from spending days in the gym.

He moved away, and without his warmth she felt cold. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“I thought you might be tired of being the only one naked.”

Then he was beside her in the bed, his body covering hers. She reached out and felt one shoulder and the back of his head. She closed her eyes behind the blindfold and tried to take in everything her other senses were telling her: the salty taste of his skin when she ran her tongue along his jaw, the rough hairs on his calf as he knelt beside her, the iron heat of his erection nudging against her thigh. She reached down and felt him twitch in her hand. She smiled. She wasn’t the only one ready for him to be inside her.

“There are condoms in the drawer of the bedside table,” she said.

“Don’t you worry, darlin’. I came prepared.” He slid down her body, nudging her thighs farther apart.

She clutched at his head, his hair brushing softly against the tips of her fingers. “Stop calling me that. I’m not your darling.”

“All right then. The-ree-ssaa.” He drew the name out in a husky drawl, the last syllable breathed out like a sigh, the air rushing over her clit in a too-soft caress.

She arched toward him until his mouth covered her and his tongue began to stroke. She clutched at the sheets, the need inside her coiling even tighter. She smiled, knowing the rush she craved wasn’t far away.

She forgot everything then—the blindfold and the bed and the man. All her senses zeroed in on her own skin and bones and the delicious heat building in waves within her, washing over and through her.

She held nothing back, and when she came, she screamed. The sound echoed around them, a shout of triumph and release and pure joy. As it faded away, she became aware of his labored breathing and the steady pounding of her heart. She kept her eyes shut tight, unwilling to leave this dreamlike state where everything seemed so perfect.

At that instant, she forgave Kyle the flowers and the romance and everything that hinted at him trying to make her into something she was not. She forgave him and welcomed him and wanted him all over again. She caressed the solid bulk of his shoulders and inhaled deeply of his musky scent, smiling to herself. A man who could make her feel this wonderful was worth keeping around awhile longer.

KYLE WATCHED THE LAST contractions of her climax move through her, admiring the flush that crept across her breasts and up her neck. He breathed in the womanly scent of her, every breath making his cock twitch. Sitting back on his heels, he slipped on the condom, then reached for her again. He wanted to be inside her before she was all the way back to earth, to feel her contract around him with the remnants of her own release.

As soon as he was all the way inside, he reached up and pulled off the blindfold and tossed it aside. She blinked at him, then smiled, a sated look in her eyes that made him want her even more. “Hi,” she whispered.

“Hello.” He emphasized the greeting with a hard thrust.

Her eyes widened and she raised up on her elbows, watching as he began to move in and out. “Do I pass inspection?” he asked, a little unnerved by the way she fixed her gaze on him. Like most men, he was somewhat preoccupied by this particular anatomical feature, particularly at moments like this. But it was after all a penis—not a body part that would ever win awards for beauty.

“Oh, yes. I think you’ll do just fine.” She lay back again and slid her hands under her ass, lifting herself to a more acute angle, one that made her tighten around him more, so that his vision lost focus and his breath came in gasps.

“You like that?” she asked, as she squeezed him tighter still, then released.

His reply was a muffled grunt. He lowered his head and focused on the task at hand, aware of her soft inner thighs brushing against him, her sweet musky scent surrounding him.

He came hard, bucking against her, reaching out to grasp her hips, sinking his fingers into her soft flesh as he spent himself in her. He sank onto her, head on her chest, arms surrounding her in a hug. Some dimly heard portion of his brain told him he must be crushing her, but he paid no heed. He wanted her close to him in this moment. As close as she could be.

He didn’t know how long they lay together like that before she prodded his shoulder. “Roll over,” she ordered.

He complied, sliding out of her. Eyes still shut, he stripped off the condom, then realized he had no idea where to put it. “There’s a trash can in the bathroom,” she said.

He nodded. “Bathroom.” He wasn’t sure he had the strength to roll over now, much less propel himself upright and to the bathroom.

She took the condom from him and he opened his eyes in time to see her walking toward the bathroom, hips swaying, that gorgeous fall of black hair swinging in time to her movements. He closed his eyes again, smiling. Did he know how to pick them or what?

5

THERESA WOKE THE NEXT MORNING with the drowsy, sated feeling of having been thoroughly satisfied. She smiled at the memory of the previous night’s lovemaking. Her instincts about Kyle hadn’t been wrong; the man definitely knew what was what in the bedroom.

She extended her arms over her head and pointed her toes in a long cat stretch, letting her body waken gradually to the softness of rumpled sheets, the diffused sunlight streaming around the edge of the blinds and the tantalizing aroma of fresh-brewed coffee.

She heard the squeak of door hinges and opened her eyes to see Kyle walking toward her. He had the fingers of his good hand looped through two mugs of coffee, a plate of toast balanced precariously on top. “Mornin’, sleepy-head,” he drawled.

The drawl and the smile that accompanied it sent a tickle of arousal through her middle. Or maybe it was the sight of him dressed only in jeans, the top button undone, bare feet peeking out from the hem. Since when had bare toes been sexy to her? Not to mention those killer abs and heart-stopping chest. How did a cowboy get to be so damned good-looking?

She sat up, tucking the sheet up under her arms.

“Ready for a little breakfast?” He set his burden on the nightstand and handed her a mug of steaming coffee. He leaned over and kissed her forehead, an unexpected, sweet gesture.

She wrapped both hands around the mug and drank deeply. She’d never had a man bring her breakfast before. Sexy and macho she could handle. Sweet made her uneasy. “What’s with all this?” she asked, gesturing at the toast.

He pulled a napkin from the pocket of his jeans and handed it to her, along with a piece of toast. “I woke up and was hungry. Figured you might be, too. After all, we worked up quite an appetite last night.” His grin reduced her insides to mush.

She nibbled toast, watching him out of the corner of her eye. Despite their rather strenuous night and the early hour, he radiated vitality and sex appeal. She debated shoving aside the food and attacking him.

“What are you staring at?” He brushed crumbs from his hands.

She shifted her eyes away from him, pretending great interest in the remaining toast. “What makes you think I was staring?”