"I hadn't heard that."
"I'm here to tell you." She used her key to check her mail slot, gathered letters and bills and a fashion magazine. "Sesame Streetis just a front."
"I always suspected that big yellow bird."
"Nah, he's just a shill. The frog's the mastermind." She put her finger to her lips as they approached her door. They snuck in together like kids hooking school. "I just didn't want to have the sisters fussing over me."
"Mind if I do?"
"That depends on your definition of fussing."
"We'll start here." He slipped his arms around her waist, touched his lips to hers.
"I suppose I could tolerate that." She helped him deepen the kiss. "What are you doing here, Cam?"
"I had a lot on my mind." His lips brushed over the bruise again, then lower, to her jawline. "You, mostly. I wanted to see you, be with you, talk to you. Make love to you."
Her lips curved against his. "All at the same time."
"Why not? I did have this thought about taking you out to dinner… but now I'm thinking maybe we could order pizza."
"Perfect." She said it with a sigh. "Why don't you pour us some wine, and I'll change?"
"There's this other thing." He worked his way over to her ear. "Something I've been wanting to do. I've been wondering what it would be like to get Miz Spinelli out of one of her dedicated-public-servant suits."
"Have you?"
"Since the first time I saw you."
She smiled wickedly. "Now's your chance."
"I was hoping you'd say that." He brought his mouth back to hers, hungrier now, more possessive. This time her sigh caught on a trembling gasp as he jerked her jacket off her shoulders and trapped her arms.
"I'm wanting the hell out of you. Day and night."
Her voice was throaty now, dark with need. "I guess that makes it handy, since I want the hell out of you too."
"It doesn't scare you?"
"Nothing about you and me scares me."
"And what if I said I want you to let me do anything I want to you? Everything?" Her heart fluttered to her throat, but her eyes stayed steady. "I'd say who's stopping you?" With desire dark and dangerous in his eyes, he skimmed his gaze down, then back to her face. "I wonder what Miz Spinelli wears under these prim little blouses."
"I don't think a man like you is going to let a few buttons keep him from finding out."
"You're right." He shifted his hands from her jacket to the crisply pressed cotton of her blouse. And ripped. He watched her eyes go wide and shocked. And aroused. "If you want me to stop, I will. I won't do anything you don't want."
He'd torn her blouse. And it had thrilled her. He waited, watching, for her to say stop or go. And it thrilled her even more. She understood she hadn't been completely truthful when she'd told him nothing about them scared her. She was afraid of what might be happening to her heart. But here, in physical love, she knew she could match him.
"I want everything. All."
His blood leaped. Still, he kept his touch light, teasing, running the back of his hand above the slick white material of her demi-cut bra. "Miz Spinelli." He drawled it while his fingers slipped beneath the polished satin to rub against her stiffened nipple. "How much can you take?" His light tugs had heat spiraling through her system.
Already the air was thick. "I think we're about to find out."
Slowly, his eyes on her face, he backed her against the wall. "Let's start here. Brace yourself," he murmured, and his hand shot under her skirt and tore aside the lacy swatch she wore beneath. Her breath exploded out, and she nearly laughed. Then he plunged his fingers into her, lancing that hard, rough shock of pleasure through her unprepared system. The orgasm ripped through her, emptying her mind, stealing her breath. When her knees gave way, he simply held her against the wall.
"Take more.'' He was desperate to watch her take more, to see the shocked excitement capture her face, to see those gorgeous eyes go wild and blind.
She gripped his shoulders for balance. With her head tipped back he could see the pulse in her throat beat madly and was compelled to taste just there. She moaned against him, moved against him, her breath hitching when he yanked the jacket and what was left of her blouse away. She was helpless, staggered. The assault on her senses left her limbs shuddering and her heart hammering. She said his name, tried to, but it caught on a gasp as he spun her around. Her damp palms pressed to the wall.
He tore at the button of her skirt. She felt it give way, shivering as the material slid over her hips and pooled at her feet. His hands were on her br**sts, molding, sliding from satin to flesh and back again. Then he tore that as well, and she gloried in the sound of the delicate material rending. His teeth nipped into her shoulder. And his hands—oh, his hands were everywhere, driving her toward madness, then beyond. Rough palms against smooth skin, clever fingers pressing, sliding. The breath that had torn ragged through her lips began to slow. Pleasure was thick, and midnight dark. She felt herself slipping into some erotic half-world where there was only sensation. Slick, stunning, and sinful.
The wall was smooth and cool; his hands were not. The contrasts were unbearably arousing. When he spun her around again, her eyes were dazzled by the sunlight. He was still fully dressed and she was naked. She found it exquisitely erotic, and could say nothing as he slowly lifted her arms above her head, bracketed her wrists with one hand.
Watching her, he combed his hand roughly through her hair to scatter pins. "I want more." He could barely speak. "Tell me you want more."
"Yes, I want more."
He pressed his body to hers, soft cotton, rough denim against damp flesh. And the kiss he took from her left her mind spinning.
Then his mouth went to work on her quivering body.
He wanted all the tastes of her, the dark honey of her mouth, the damp silk of her br**sts. There was the creamy taste of her belly, the polished satin of her thighs.
Then the heat, the furnace flood of it as he licked his way between them.
Everything. All, was all he could think. Then more.
Her hands gripped his hair, pressing his face closer as she climbed to peak. It was her cry, the half scream, that broke the final link on his control. It had to be now.
"I'm here to tell you." She used her key to check her mail slot, gathered letters and bills and a fashion magazine. "Sesame Streetis just a front."
"I always suspected that big yellow bird."
"Nah, he's just a shill. The frog's the mastermind." She put her finger to her lips as they approached her door. They snuck in together like kids hooking school. "I just didn't want to have the sisters fussing over me."
"Mind if I do?"
"That depends on your definition of fussing."
"We'll start here." He slipped his arms around her waist, touched his lips to hers.
"I suppose I could tolerate that." She helped him deepen the kiss. "What are you doing here, Cam?"
"I had a lot on my mind." His lips brushed over the bruise again, then lower, to her jawline. "You, mostly. I wanted to see you, be with you, talk to you. Make love to you."
Her lips curved against his. "All at the same time."
"Why not? I did have this thought about taking you out to dinner… but now I'm thinking maybe we could order pizza."
"Perfect." She said it with a sigh. "Why don't you pour us some wine, and I'll change?"
"There's this other thing." He worked his way over to her ear. "Something I've been wanting to do. I've been wondering what it would be like to get Miz Spinelli out of one of her dedicated-public-servant suits."
"Have you?"
"Since the first time I saw you."
She smiled wickedly. "Now's your chance."
"I was hoping you'd say that." He brought his mouth back to hers, hungrier now, more possessive. This time her sigh caught on a trembling gasp as he jerked her jacket off her shoulders and trapped her arms.
"I'm wanting the hell out of you. Day and night."
Her voice was throaty now, dark with need. "I guess that makes it handy, since I want the hell out of you too."
"It doesn't scare you?"
"Nothing about you and me scares me."
"And what if I said I want you to let me do anything I want to you? Everything?" Her heart fluttered to her throat, but her eyes stayed steady. "I'd say who's stopping you?" With desire dark and dangerous in his eyes, he skimmed his gaze down, then back to her face. "I wonder what Miz Spinelli wears under these prim little blouses."
"I don't think a man like you is going to let a few buttons keep him from finding out."
"You're right." He shifted his hands from her jacket to the crisply pressed cotton of her blouse. And ripped. He watched her eyes go wide and shocked. And aroused. "If you want me to stop, I will. I won't do anything you don't want."
He'd torn her blouse. And it had thrilled her. He waited, watching, for her to say stop or go. And it thrilled her even more. She understood she hadn't been completely truthful when she'd told him nothing about them scared her. She was afraid of what might be happening to her heart. But here, in physical love, she knew she could match him.
"I want everything. All."
His blood leaped. Still, he kept his touch light, teasing, running the back of his hand above the slick white material of her demi-cut bra. "Miz Spinelli." He drawled it while his fingers slipped beneath the polished satin to rub against her stiffened nipple. "How much can you take?" His light tugs had heat spiraling through her system.
Already the air was thick. "I think we're about to find out."
Slowly, his eyes on her face, he backed her against the wall. "Let's start here. Brace yourself," he murmured, and his hand shot under her skirt and tore aside the lacy swatch she wore beneath. Her breath exploded out, and she nearly laughed. Then he plunged his fingers into her, lancing that hard, rough shock of pleasure through her unprepared system. The orgasm ripped through her, emptying her mind, stealing her breath. When her knees gave way, he simply held her against the wall.
"Take more.'' He was desperate to watch her take more, to see the shocked excitement capture her face, to see those gorgeous eyes go wild and blind.
She gripped his shoulders for balance. With her head tipped back he could see the pulse in her throat beat madly and was compelled to taste just there. She moaned against him, moved against him, her breath hitching when he yanked the jacket and what was left of her blouse away. She was helpless, staggered. The assault on her senses left her limbs shuddering and her heart hammering. She said his name, tried to, but it caught on a gasp as he spun her around. Her damp palms pressed to the wall.
He tore at the button of her skirt. She felt it give way, shivering as the material slid over her hips and pooled at her feet. His hands were on her br**sts, molding, sliding from satin to flesh and back again. Then he tore that as well, and she gloried in the sound of the delicate material rending. His teeth nipped into her shoulder. And his hands—oh, his hands were everywhere, driving her toward madness, then beyond. Rough palms against smooth skin, clever fingers pressing, sliding. The breath that had torn ragged through her lips began to slow. Pleasure was thick, and midnight dark. She felt herself slipping into some erotic half-world where there was only sensation. Slick, stunning, and sinful.
The wall was smooth and cool; his hands were not. The contrasts were unbearably arousing. When he spun her around again, her eyes were dazzled by the sunlight. He was still fully dressed and she was naked. She found it exquisitely erotic, and could say nothing as he slowly lifted her arms above her head, bracketed her wrists with one hand.
Watching her, he combed his hand roughly through her hair to scatter pins. "I want more." He could barely speak. "Tell me you want more."
"Yes, I want more."
He pressed his body to hers, soft cotton, rough denim against damp flesh. And the kiss he took from her left her mind spinning.
Then his mouth went to work on her quivering body.
He wanted all the tastes of her, the dark honey of her mouth, the damp silk of her br**sts. There was the creamy taste of her belly, the polished satin of her thighs.
Then the heat, the furnace flood of it as he licked his way between them.
Everything. All, was all he could think. Then more.
Her hands gripped his hair, pressing his face closer as she climbed to peak. It was her cry, the half scream, that broke the final link on his control. It had to be now.
