Wild Ride Page 10

And She wanted it now.

  Once she was out of the shower and wrapped in her terry cloth robe, she’d made her decision. Men like Duncan Forbes didn’t come to Swiftcurrent every day. Passing him up would be like not ordering the latest reference books for the library—and that was practically a crime.

  She picked up the phone, recalling his earlier comment that she’d feel less slutty if she dated him first. The gorgeous truth was she could eat a meal with the man, go home alone and be assumed to be having an affair; or she could skip the meal, jump his sexy bones and, unless he blabbed, no one in town would know. Keeping a secret in Swiftcurrent took cunning and guile, but she’d been doing it one way or another since she was sixteen.

  A small smile curled her lips. She’d trade battered oysters and coy glances for orgasms and secrecy any day.

  Since his card was sitting on her desk beside the phone, it took her no time to dial his cell number. He answered on the second ring, businesslike and clipped. “Forbes.”

  “Hello. It’s Alexandra Forrest.”

  “Alex?” His tone changed with gratifying speed to unbusinesslike and sexy.

  She rolled her gaze. “Yes, Alex.”

  There was a short pause as she tried to work out what she wanted to say. In the background she heard traffic noises. He must be in his car.

  He took care of the awkward pause by saying, “Are you taking me up on my offer to take you to dinner?”

  She drew a deep breath and felt the oxygen pump to every erogenous zone in her body. “No. I’m taking you up on your offer for sex.”

  The second pause was a lot longer than the first and she enjoyed every nanosecond of his obvious shock. But he rallied fast. “Great. When?”

  Alex was a great believer that there’s no time like the present. “How about now?”

  “I’ll be there in sixty seconds.”

  “Sixty seconds?” There was a good five miles between her place and the cottage he was renting. Unless he had super-natural powers. She heard a truck go by on the street outside her place and then heard its faint echo from the phone clasped to her ear.

  It was her turn for shock. She strode to the window, snapped open her California shutters, and stared out at the street. Sure enough, the beige rental that spent so many hours in the Switfcurrent library parking lot was at this moment parked across the street from her apartment and Duncan Forbes was sitting inside it with his phone to his ear.

  He glanced up and even across a road and through two windows the force of his gaze sizzled her where she stood. “What are you doing there?”

  “Coming to see you.”

  “What a coincidence,” she said faintly, but he’d already disconnected.

  Now that he was on his way, she was less sure about her great idea. Sex with Duncan Forbes? What if it was awful? She’d have a terrible time giving him the brush-off if he insisted on showing up at the library every day.

  She paced once more, too wired to care she was in her robe, her hair a wet mop brushed back from her face.

  A knock sounded on the door and reflexively she checked her watch. Fifty-four seconds.

  She made him wait another fifty-four while she dashed to the bathroom, dragged a comb through her hair and applied lip gloss and a tiny dab of perfume behind her ears. Then she answered the door.

  He looked more gorgeous than ever with the carnal gleam in his eye and a certain energy pulsing around him that had her response system on full alert. “Is this a social call?”

  “No. Business,” he said, stepping inside.

  Her brows rose. “What kind of business do we have together?”

  “Unfinished business.” And he pulled her to him and kissed her.

  With a little moan, she let go, let her head flop on his shoulder, her lips part, and her body close in on what it had craved since the first moment she’d caught him looking up her skirt, both boyishly disconcerted and appreciatively grown up.

  And every minute they’d spent together, between then and now, she realized, had been a kind of mental foreplay. They’d been toying with each other at the library each day, swapping scorching gazes, the ions of the air around them so charged she was amazed her pores didn’t steam.

  “I have wanted you since the first second I saw you,” he said, echoing what she’d been thinking.

  “Me, too,” she finally admitted.

  After two weeks of foreplay, she was as aroused as she’d ever been. Her body shot from zero to incendiary the instant he touched her. He pulled the robe’s tie with a quick jerk and she moaned, deep in her throat.

  His hands plunged beneath, cupping her breasts, which showed their gratitude for the attention by hardening immediately, the sweet ache spreading. Her nipples were almost painfully pinched by desire and as he touched and stroked them, they grew even more sensitized, sending darts of excitement everywhere.

  He never stopped kissing her, his mouth hungry on hers, his tongue demanding a response which she eagerly gave. She was one open garment away from naked. He wore far too many clothes. She could help him solve that problem, which she did by attacking the buttons on one of his endless creased, natural-fiber shirts.

  The linen, or hemp or whatever it was, radiated heat from his body as she unbuttoned him with urgent haste. He was still way ahead of her. She’d barely revealed his belly, hardly taken in the sight of a nicely muscled, satisfyingly hairy chest, when she felt a hand slide down her belly and between her legs.

  “No, wait,” she gasped, even as she slipped her feet wider apart to give him easier access.

  “You’re so wet,” he murmured against her lips.

  Oh, and she was going to get a whole lot wetter, and fast, if he kept touching her like that.

  Her hands were trembling so badly she fumbled the last few buttons, her whole attention focused on the sensation of his spread fingers sliding back and forth across her lips, so poutily eager they were practically kissing him back. She felt them swell and grow heavy, as he used two fingers to massage the outer lips and with a lighter touch, stroked her clit with his middle finger.

  She was going to come so fast he’d think she was starving for a man. Which would be the absolute truth, but a woman had her pride.

  But what was pride compared to the orgasm she felt building inside her like a tsunami?

  The force of the wave seemed to start in her toes, travel up through her feet, her ankles, calves and thighs. Completely losing coordination, she ripped the final button, pulling him against her so their chests rubbed.

  She was trembling all over, trembling so badly she couldn’t tell him, couldn’t stop the wave that built, crested, and seemed to hold her aloft, timeless, motionless, perched on the edge. In the distance she heard panting and tiny whimpers and knew they came from her mouth.

  “Let go,” he said, his voice low and rough in her ear. “I’ll catch you.”

  She might have still hung on but the sneaky devil brought his other hand into play, thrusting two fingers inside her even as he picked up the pace with the rubbing hand.

  Alex had never fainted in her life, but she felt close to it now. There wasn’t enough oxygen in her system to supply her overworked lungs, her pounding heart, and her engorged clit.

  He pushed inside her and stroked her at the same time and she cried out as the wave broke and literally knocked her off her feet.

  He must have quick reflexes and great coordination, for she’d hardly begun to sag when he’d shifted, throwing one arm around her back and the other underneath her collapsing knees.

  “I’ve got you,” he assured her as he hefted her into his arms as though she weighed no more than the rag doll she was currently imitating.

  She felt wonderful—weightless, drowsy, and bobbing along on a warm ocean current. When she came back to herself, she realized she actually was bobbing. He was walking with her in his arms and his destination was her bedroom.

  Good.

  Fortunately, her neatnik inner librarian snatched at the very expensiv
e bed cover she’d ordered from New York, flipping it back so that when he lowered them both to the bed, she sank onto her equally self-indulgent Egyptian cotton sheets. Thread count in the millions.

  She only felt the cool, luxurious cotton against her calves and feet and she frowned, realizing she was still cocooned in her white terry robe. This wouldn’t do. But she was really much too lazy and heavy with repletion to put the effort into taking the thing off.

  Her energies were needed to watch Duncan Forbes strip, which he did with economical and flattering speed. That haste had to mean he was as anxious to be inside her body as her body was to welcome him. Already, the post-orgasm pulsing was turning into pre-penetration pulsing.

  His shirt was floating to the floor as white as a flag of surrender, and she took a moment to enjoy the musculature of his shoulders and chest. The man was buff. He didn’t get like that spending day after day at a library—or teaching. “How do you keep in shape?” she asked idly.

  He grinned at her, his hands busy unzipping and shucking his khakis. “Rock climbing. It was one of the draws of this area.”

  He was down to briefs, striped gray cotton, but she tried not to peek or to imagine what he would look like without them.

  Rock climbing. They were talking about rock climbing. She lifted her brows. “I haven’t seen you do any rock climbing since you’ve been here.”

  “Honey, I’ve been too busy storming the citadel.”

  She gave him her best librarian frosty stare. “Is that some vulgar expression for—”

  “Fucking your beautiful brains out? Oh, yeah.”

  “Well, you haven’t done it yet,” she said, trying unsuccessfully to keep the smile off her face. His briefs went the way of the rest of his clothing and the smile froze.

  Oh, my God. The man was hung.

  She knew she was staring, mesmerized by a jutting cock that made her gooey and soft just thinking about how far inside her it would reach, all the delightful spots it would stroke along the way.

  “Better get right to it, then,” he said and took the step that separated them.

  Naked, her body cried out. Have to be naked. Right, the damn robe. Not even caring if she looked desperate and ungainly, she rolled and twisted until she was free of the confining terry cloth.

  Instead of helping her, Sir Galahad just stood and watched.

  “Thanks for the helping hand,” she muttered as she tossed the robe aside.

  “You are more gorgeous than I’d imagined in my wildest fantasies,” he said softly, making her forgive him immediately for standing there watching her struggle.

  She knew she had a good figure, and didn’t waste a lot of time on false modesty, but she’d never felt quite so good about her body as she did at this moment with Duncan gazing at her, unblinking.

  As turned on as she already was, the idolatry in his gaze had her nipples aching and her clit perking up again.

  “Get in this bed,” she ordered.

  He placed a knee on the mattress, then stopped with a groan. “Have to get a condom.”

  “There are some in the bedside drawer,” she said, pointing.

  He nodded, and retrieved one. When he would have rolled

  it on, she stopped him by twitching it out of his hand. Nothing was shrouding this baby until she was ready. “Has anyone ever told you, you have a beautiful cock?” she asked him.

  He chuckled, “Not recently,” he said, wheezing at the end when she wrapped her hand around the warm, hard flesh and squeezed. Oh, he was gorgeous.

  She leaned over and kissed him, touching the tip with her tongue. He groaned and his hips jerked. She ran her tongue slowly all around the head.

  In that instant, control shifted to her. With one orgasm out of the way, she wasn’t as helplessly needy as she had been.

  She could take her time and torment him a little—not too long, because her own body still required some pretty urgent attention, but she certainly had time for some gentle teasing.

  Duncan had yet to experience any relief. He’d been hard when he got to her door and he was harder still now.

  His erection jutted from a thatch of rough auburn hair, his balls peeking dark and mysterious from below. She licked her lips and took him into her mouth.

  Through her lips she felt the fine quivering in his flesh, like the initial tremors of an earthquake, and knew she teased him much longer at her peril, so she swiftly sheathed him.

  Just as she lifted a knee to climb on top of him, he rolled over and pinned her with his weight, gazing down at her with eyes so fiery she ignited all at once. She parted her legs wide, hooked her calves around his hips and tilted her pelvis, knowing she’d need to be as open as possible to accommodate him.

  He watched her face, taking hold of his erection to guide it slowly inside.

  She gasped at the initial penetration. Oh, it felt so good to be stretched like this. Her body had craved this for too long.

  He was as considerate as she could have wished, taking his time, easing into her slowly enough that her body naturally opened for him. Not since her first time had she felt so stretched, opened so wide.

  She felt the effort it cost him to go slowly and not plunge wildly into her and she silently thanked him for his restraint. It felt as though he was inside her as deeply as it was possible to go, and still there was more of him. She experienced a moment of panic. This wasn’t going to work. There was simply too much of a good thing here.

  It seemed as though he read her mind, or perhaps some signal from her body stopped him. He spent a while kissing her, holding himself utterly still. His lips moved down her throat and her head went back on a sigh. She didn’t notice his hand move between them until she felt him stroking her hot spot with tiny, circular movements.

  She grunted with pleasure, and hardly knowing what she was doing, thrust upward. Somehow, there was room and he was all the way inside. So deep inside her their hipbones touched.

  “You okay?” he whispered.

  “Oh, yeah.” She smiled up at him and nudged at him with her pelvis, letting him know it was time to move.

  Which he did. Slowly.

  She grasped his shoulders and matched his rhythm.

  “I love this beauty mark,” he said, kissing the small black mole just to the right of her left nipple.

  A little faster.

  She began panting as excitement built inside her.

  “And the diamond in your navel.”

  Faster still until her hands were slipping off his sweat-damp shoulders and her eyes were losing focus.

  Somehow she felt he was still being polite and there was no room for politeness in this bed at this moment. Unable to articulate her message, she grabbed his butt and pulled him into her, harder, faster.

  With a groan, he let go. He was pounding into her, and she was arching up to receive each thrust, loving the power, the friction, the sheer size of the man.

  The wave was building again, lifting and carrying her to oblivion. Her head tilted back like a sprinter in the final stretch and she felt the moment her climax lifted her and tossed her into the air. She cried aloud, feeling his girth as her inner muscles squeezed and massaged him. A stroke more, two, and he lost the measured rhythm and tossed and bucked with wild abandon.

  She rode the final frenzy with him while her body throbbed out the last of her own powerful climax.

  “You should come with a warning,” she muttered, when she could finally speak. “You could whip cream with that thing.”

  A low chuckle rumbled through his chest, which happened to be under her ear. “You seemed to keep up okay.”

  “That’s because I’m a special woman.”

  “You are that.”

  10

  Duncan woke on the tail end of an erotic dream that had him panting instead of snoring. As he came fully conscious he realized his fantasy was fueled by the woman sleeping beside him with her body curled in such a way that her butt thrust into his crotch.

  Alex. H
e kissed the nape of her neck and she shifted in sleep, her backside pressing against a morning boner so rampant you’d never know it had done stallion service for most of the night.

  He grinned to himself. She hadn’t lied to him that day in her car. She really did love sex. Creatively and unabashedly. Who’d have known such an unremarkable town could hide such a woman?

  A woman with such a nice butt that he took a lazy tour down her spine, licking and kissing until he arrived at the firm twin cheeks and planted a love bite on each. The first made her wriggle, the second had her waking sufficiently to swat him.

  “What are you doing?” she asked in a sleepy voice that nevertheless sounded turned on.

  “I’m kissing you good morning.”

  “My mouth is up here.”

  “I have a lousy sense of direction. I got disoriented.”

  He placed his hand on her backside, the middle finger along the crease where her cheeks met. “I’ll follow this trail and see where it leads.”

  He felt her body shake with a chuckle, but he also felt a certain warming along her already sleep-warm skin, and a tension was developing in her body that made him grin and ease her legs apart, then roll her lazily to her back.

  His good morning kiss soon had her thrashing on the bed until he sucked the orgasm right out of her.

  “Can you die from too much sex?” she asked weakly as he kissed his way up the front of her body.

  “What a way to go,” he replied, entering her carefully in case he really had overdone it with her.

  But she wrapped her legs around him and grasped his hips, pulling him into her and increasing the rhythm when he would have taken it slowly.

  After they both came and their bodies were slick with sweat, he finally kissed her lips. “Good morning.”

  She chuckled, then shrieked, which disconcerted him until he realized she was glancing at her clock.

  “I have to get to work.” She shoved at him.

  “You’re a civil servant. Nobody expects you to be at work on time.”

  “I am never late,” she informed him primly. He decided it was one of her qualities that most intrigued him: the primness mixed with the sexiness.