Charmingly Yours (A Morning Glory #1) (15 page)

He inhaled her essence. Rosemary smelled of summer flowers and something so womanly; her skin was satin beneath his and he felt as if he could devour her. After several minutes of his enjoying the responsive woman beneath him, she lifted herself. Tossing the lacy bra toward the end of the bed, she said, “Okay, my turn.”

“But I—” He kissed her, nipping her lips, teasing her with his tongue.

She pressed a hand into his chest. “Stop. I want a turn to touch you,” she said, trailing a hand across his chest, threading her fingers in the dark hair covering his chest.

Sal flopped back and brought her with him, trapping her against him. “So you want me at your mercy?”

That thought seemed to sit well with her, because she smiled and nodded. “I think I’d like that.”

Lifting herself from him, she sat up, breasts swaying like tantalizing fruits as she moved forward. He didn’t mind her touching him, but she hadn’t said anything about keeping his hands to himself, so he filled his hand with one. “I have to touch you, too.”

“I’m not complaining,” she said, her lids lowering as she traced a path across his shoulder. Leaning forward, Rosemary kissed him. It was a simple kiss that turned hot when she tentatively traced her tongue along his lower lip. Her hands stroked his shoulders, lingering on his tat before moving down to his chest. He released the breast now squished between them and surrendered to her ministrations. Rosemary seemed to enjoy putting her mouth and hands on him, because she made soft little sighs against his skin and her hips squirmed, rocking back and forth, giving a little grind even now and then.

She moved her lips down his neck, dropping tiny kisses across his collarbone, biting his shoulder. Her hands skipped lower across his belly, ringing his navel, diving down to the button of his pants.

He held his breath as she dipped lower, then lost his breath when she traced the length of him through the placket. “Rose,” he warned.

She gave a throaty laugh and with a quick flick of her wrist, she had him unbuttoned and unzipped. “Whoa, whoa, easy now.”

Rosemary looked up with bright, turned-on eyes and said, “Did you just treat me like Buttercup?”

“Buttercup?” Realization dawned. The horse. “No, I’m trying to slow you down.”

“Why?” she asked, parting the fabric of his trousers and tracing a finger down the erection straining against his boxers.

He hissed, closing his eyes. “Because I want it to be good for you.”

“But what if I want to go fast?” she asked, grasping him through the thin cotton.

“Keep doing that and we’ll really slow down. Like, I’ll be finished.”

She contemplated that, tilting her head. “How soon can you be ready to go again?”

Enough.

He’d been a good boy and let her have her fun, but it was time to get down to business. He sat up, capturing her hand. “We’re not going to have the chance to find out yet. Time to lose the skirt, baby.”

Rosemary kissed him while fiddling with the zipper on the side of the skirt. He heard the unzipping and broke the kiss so he could watch her shimmy from her last piece of clothing. What was denied to him Friday night was now all his. He quickly made short work of his pants, drawers, and socks. Finally, they lay on the bed completely and splendidly naked.

“Perfect,” he said, trailing a hand across the curve of her hip. “Just perfect.”

Rosemary had never thought she had a good body. Oh sure, it was mostly trim, but her breasts sloped weirdly and her hips were a bit too big. A bit swaybacked, she’d been constantly pinched for slumping her shoulders in effort to counterbalance. And her belly wasn’t exactly flat. But Sal made her feel gorgeous. His dark eyes seemed to consume her, and the heat within the depths told her he found her more than adequate.

“I’m not perfect,” she said.

“Oh no, you are,” he said, his hands tracing her hip, sliding down to her thigh to brush the delicate skin behind her knee. Then his hand returned to her waist, pushing her back.

She let go, falling back onto the bed.

Part of her wished the lights were totally out, but the other half was glad of the lamp’s glow. She could see his face as he touched her, and nothing was more of a turn-on than a man enjoying a woman’s body.

Her skin felt hot, her breasts tight and achy. And she was utterly drenched between her legs. He dragged his fingers across her belly, making it flutter before ringing her navel.

Sal lay on his side, and she reached up to twine her fingers in his inky hair. “Kiss me.”

He obliged with a hot, wet kiss that curled her toes. He broke the kiss and looked down at her. “You’re driving me crazy, you know?”

She shook her head. “No, I’m the one about to go over the edge.”

Obviously liking that admission, he cupped her sex.

“Oh.” Her body silently cheered as he started a slow rocking of his hand, his middle finger teasing the dampness.

“You’re so hot and wet. It’s addictive,” he said, kissing her ear. She swallowed hard as something frantic slammed into her. She needed him inside her. Bucking her hips, she moaned a sigh of pleasure when his finger dipped inside her.

Sal shifted so he slid down her body, dropping a kiss on her belly, settling himself between her legs.

Rosemary shot up to her elbows, eyes wide. She knew what he was about to do. She’d had sex plenty of times before but never had a man go down on her. She wasn’t sure she wanted that much intimacy, that much vulnerability. But, of course, she’d imagined what it would be like to have a man make love to her that way while she lay lonely in her bed at home. “You don’t have to do that.”

He looked up, eyes half-lidded. “Are you fucking kidding me? This is so happening, baby. Let me love you, Rose. I need to taste you.”

Rosemary knew he wouldn’t if she said the word. “I don’t . . . that is to say . . . okay.”

Slowly he parted her folds with his hand, opening her, before dragging his tongue through the sensitive folds of her sex.

“Oh my, ah—” Rosemary cried, arching her back, her head falling back. Any protest she had left died on her lips. She’d never felt anything so spectacular . . . until his tongue hit her clit and started moving in a steady rhythm.

Holy crap. The sensation was amazing. No other word for it.

Sal moaned against her, his mouth fastening on her, sucking lightly, as his hands pushed her thighs up, spreading her even more to the most pleasure she’d ever experienced.

Rosemary felt drenched in desire, buckets and buckets of sheer heat. Inside her a delicious pressure built. Sal held her firm when she tried to struggle, the pressure of his mouth and tongue increasing.

She stretched to reach that pinnacle, twisting her head back and forth as she dug her toes into the covers and lifted her hips, reaching toward something, arching until . . . it happened.

Waves of pleasure crashed over her, taking over her body, making her tremble. A cry ripped past her lips, and she fell back, slamming her hands down, gripping the comforter, and holding on.

“Sal,” she cried, trying to twist away.

But he held her tight, unrelentingly bringing her more pleasure. She stretched tight once more and then catapulted again, shattering against the delicious torture.

And it was good.

So, so, so damn good.

Finally, as the sensation abated, she pressed her palm against his forehead and panted, “Enough. Please.”

He looked up then, eyes triumphant. Rosemary tugged his ears when he tried to lower his head again. “Seriously. I need you. Inside me.”

Sal rose and moved backward, groping for something. His pants. He withdrew his wallet and pulled a condom from the depths. She hadn’t even thought about protection. That’s how crazy he’d driven her. Out of her mind.

As languid as her limbs felt, she still longed for something more, for him to sink inside her, filling her.

Ripping the package with his teeth, he withdrew the thin sheath. She plucked it from his fingers. “Can I?”

He smiled.

She shimmied to her knees and reached for him, admiring his length, the thick hardness she so desired. He was perfect. She placed the condom on the head of his shaft and rolled it down, a tight fit.

He pushed her on her back with a wicked grin, but she sprang back up, meeting him with a kiss. “I want on top.”

“Of course you do,” he murmured, capturing her lips, his erection wagging against her stomach. Hunger tapped again, and she pushed him to the side so he fell onto the pillows. Then she straddled him. Something about having this big man beneath her emboldened her.

She ran her hand down his torso, following the goody trail to what she needed to feel inside her. She grasped him, lifted herself, and sank down ever so slowly. He filled her completely, and for a moment she didn’t move. Merely closed her eyes and leaned her head back.

This was what she needed. Not only to be free in New York City, living a life she’d only imagined, but to have this beautiful closeness with a man who made her feel so alive, so cherished, so damned sexy. With a man who let her be in charge of what she wanted in bed.

Sal’s mouth opened almost as if she’d hurt him. “Oh, that’s—”

“Incredible?” she asked, cocking one eye open.

He smiled.

Then she started moving, rocking her pelvis, riding him. He went deep and she loved the feeling of control she had over him. His hands clasped her hips, helping her, and she didn’t mind because she wanted his hands on her.

Her hair hung in her face and her breasts bounced as she hooked her toes and lifted herself so he went even deeper. Dropping her head back, she increased the tempo.

“Fuck, you’re sexy,” he groaned, hands coming up to cup her breasts.

She moved faster, feeling the pressure again, wanting to be swept away. Sal lifted his hips in time with her before sitting up and sucking a nipple into his mouth. Lightly he bit down and then he surged forward, dropping her onto her back.

He pinned her knees back and reached a hand under her butt to lift her so he could drive deeper. Rosemary wrapped her arms about his neck as he pumped into her, hitting the sweet spot with delicious friction. The explosive had been lit, and before she could do anything else, she came again.

And Sal joined her, pumping furiously, a rough cry interrupting the sound of her heart beating in her ears.

“So good. Good. Good. Good,” he said with each thrust. With a final move, he collapsed on top of her.

He was heavy, but she was beyond caring. Her knees dropped to either side and she panted, trying to catch her breath. Her arms stayed around him, registering the sweatiness, loving that they’d worn each other out. She felt incredibly boneless and euphoric.

After several seconds, Sal withdrew and rolled off her, sprawling on his back. His breath came fast and his chest rose and fell rapidly.

“Shit, that was good,” he said to the ceiling.

Rosemary laughed, twisting her knees toward him and rolling to her side. “I’m pretty sure I’ve never come that many times.”

He slid his gaze toward her. “You just needed a New Yorker.”

“No, I needed an Italian,” she teased.

He lifted his head. “Do all prim and proper southern girls screw like you?”

Rosemary pursed her lips, lifting her eyebrows. “Keep talking like that and I’ll have to wash your mouth out, mister.”

“Is that foreplay in Mississippi?”

And that made her laugh. Not just because he had a good sense of humor, but because he made her feel like the woman she’d always wanted to be.

An independent, modern one who didn’t wear panties under her skirts and could ride a man like he was a . . . well, she wouldn’t compare him to Buttercup. This was what her friend had wanted for Rosemary. And she knew Lacy would have approved of Sal.

Because he was a guy a woman could fall in love with.

“Will you stay with me?” she asked, reaching out to feather her fingers through his chest hair.

“Just try and stop me from holding you all night,” he said.

Chapter Thirteen

The sound of harps strumming woke Rosemary and for a moment she thought she indeed had died and gone to heaven. But then she remembered she lay in her cousin’s comfy bed in a loft in SoHo . . . and Sal lay beside her. The sound intensified.

“Damn it,” he whispered, a thumping sound coming from the nightstand. Rosemary lifted her head as Sal grabbed his phone.

She threw an arm around his waist when he tried to roll away. “What’re you doing?”

“Trying to”—he punched a button on the phone and the strumming stopped—“turn this alarm off. Sorry I woke you.”

He flopped back, pulling her with him. She curled into him, resting her head on his shoulder. “Do you have to go to work this early?”

“No, but I have to get back to my place to change. I didn’t think this out very well, so I’m without clean clothes. I didn’t want to be presumptuous by packing a bag.”

“As in you didn’t think you’d score?” She yawned.

“I had hope. I had hope,” he said, grazing her forehead with a kiss. “But I do have to get going.”

“Don’t you want to shower first? That shower is pretty incredible.”

He twined his fingers in her hair. “But this bed is so warm.”

Her hand stroked his stomach as she snuggled into him. Dipping lower, she found him hard and ready. “And there’s this. Would be such a shame to waste this.” She curved her hand around his length, making him groan. She loved the sounds he made when she touched him.

“Keep doing that and—”

She moved her hand up and down lazily. “That?”

“Witch,” he said, catching her hand. “I have to get out to Dyker before the morning grind.”

“I’ll take a shower with you. Let’s think of it as a time saver,” she whispered, kissing the tattoo on his shoulder.

Sal slid from the bed, looking amazing in the pale morning light streaming through the windows. “Deal.”

He reached under the cover and snagged her ankle, pulling her across the soft sheets to him.

“Ay,” she squealed, flailing, showing him way too much skin. She’d slept naked in his arms, something she’d never done. She was a nightie kind of girl, but it had felt so nice snuggling skin on skin. As she slid toward him, she noted his morning erection had thickened. Fire lapped at her blood.

“You like being a brute, don’t you?” she teased as he hauled her against him, wrapping her in his arms, dropping baby kisses on her jaw.

“Me Tarzan, you Jane,” he cracked, lifting her and shuffling toward the huge shower with the full body sprays.

His naked body felt solid against hers, and she dipped a hand down to grab his hard butt. “Tarzan has a nice ass.”

She felt his smile against her hairline. “Was hard to say ass, wasn’t it?”

“I’m trying new things, trying to be a badass New Yorker. I’m thinking of tearing off my shirtsleeves and buying some motorcycle boots. Maybe I’ll do De Niro, too. ‘You talking to me?’” She tried an impression but it was pretty terrible so she laughed at herself.

“Nah, I like you in pearls and those tight little prissy skirts,” he said, his hands sliding down to cup her butt and bring her against his hard parts. “Especially when you do naughty things like ditching your underwear.”

“You liked that, did you?” she asked, slipping from his grasp in order to turn on the vanity light and start the water. Took a while for the hot water to flow, so it gave them time to make out before climbing inside.

Sal’s hands seemed to be everywhere at once. And his mouth found hers. “I like that you want to please me. I like that you want to be naughty for me.”

She sighed, and when he lifted her from the black-and-white hexagon tile, she wrapped her legs around him, loving every part of their bodies lined up just right. She wriggled her hips, rocking his hardness against her softness.

The spray had warmed and Sal reached over and adjusted the temperature, still holding her aloft. He let her down and she went straight to her knees.

Since she was trying new things, there was still one thing she hadn’t done. Okay, yes, she knew there were other things. Sex toys, stuff she’d read about in
Fifty Shades of Grey
, et cetera, but this she was pretty certain she could handle. She’d read an article in
Cosmopolitan
two months ago on how to give the perfect blow job.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, looking down at her with a lazy smile.

“Practicing my fellatio skills?” she said with a saucy flashbulb smile.

“Well, never let it be said I held you back from practicing,” he said.

And Rosemary went to work, making damn sure he found taking a shower with her very worthwhile.

Ten minutes later, she found herself sprawled wet on her cousin’s fluffy living room rug. Ten minutes after that, she had a panting Sal lying beneath her and kitty pitty-pats on her rump.

“I think your cats want to be fed,” Sal said, peering around her hips at the cat standing on his thighs.

“They’re not my cats.”

“Still, I think you should feed them before they swat me again. My balls are sorta out there.”

Rosemary climbed off him, reaching for the towel she’d abandoned earlier. She did a quick cleanup, tossing the towel to him before rising and padding toward the kitchen. She was bare-assed naked and didn’t care. She’d never walked around the carriage house naked because her brother had a bad habit of sneaking inside at strange times. He’d scared the daylights out of her more than once. So it was freeing to walk around without a stitch of clothing on.

She made coffee in the professional chef’s coffeepot that honestly didn’t taste any better than a Mr. Coffee, but she wouldn’t point that out to Halle. Sal pulled on the clothes he’d abandoned last night and used Rosemary’s brush to comb his hair. She’d found a spare toothbrush in the cabinet and set it out.

She’d just poured a cup of coffee for him when his arm snaked around her waist and his lips found the sweet spot below her ear.

“Mmm, delicious,” he said, nuzzling her neck and bringing his hands around to cup her breasts. “Do you always make coffee in the nude?”

“Of course not. I’m not a weirdo, you know.” She held a mug out to him. “Want some?”

He took the cup. “And she pours him coffee the morning after? I’m pretty sure you’re the perfect woman.”

“What can I say? I’m a woman of many talents,” she said, parking her hip against the counter, watching him add cream to his coffee. She felt a little silly standing there naked, but he seemed to enjoy it. His gaze felt hot on her.

“No, you’re a woman of considerable talents,” he said, taking a sip, his eyes closing briefly in appreciation. “Now I know why those Mississippi boys keep you hostage down there.” Her reached out and traced her hip.

“Ha. Guys from down my way only hold a woman in high esteem if she can cook up a mess of peas or help process venison,” she said, thinking that if he knew how few Mississippi boys she’d actually been with he’d think her even more backward than she was.

No. Sal didn’t think her anything. He didn’t seem to be a judgmental sort. He was a what-you-see-is-what-you-get kind of guy. For the second time, she thought about how similar they were. She had little doubt he knew she wasn’t very experienced when it came to the bedroom, the same way she could tell he knew his way around a woman’s body.

“Wait, you know how to process venison? Bonus!” he joked, giving a fist pump.

“Actually, I don’t. But it’s highly prized in a southern woman, along with baiting her own hook, baking a pie like his mama, and never mistaking his spit cup for her Diet Dr Pepper.”

“Spit cup? I’m not sure I want to know.”

Rosemary laughed. “Yeah, Morning Glory is backward on a lot of things, but it’s also pretty as a Sunday picnic.”

Sal smiled. “Is it?”

“Sure, my town has a lot of colorful folks who walk slower, talk slower, and live slower. Guess slow is not exactly a bad thing these days.”

And it wasn’t. If anything, being in the fast-paced rat race of New York City, she’d learned to appreciate the time she had to smell the flowers. Like, literally smell the flowers. The town square was overflowing with blooms planted by the horticulture club, of which Rosemary was a member. Oh, make no mistake, she liked Manhattan. Stepping outside onto the hot pavement opened a new world of different cultures, sounds, tastes, and smells. Electric energy sparked in the air, making her feel as if she was drunk on life. But she wouldn’t trade the soft summer nights on the porch drinking wine or the way everyone showed up for funerals with a casserole. It might be hard to keep a secret in Morning Glory, but that was the key to a good small town. People knew and they cared.

Sal’s brows knitted together. “I guess you’re right. It’s not a bad way to live.” He looked as if he might say something more but then seemed to think better of it. “What are your plans for today?”

“Go back to bed for another four hours and—”

“You’re going back to bed without me?” he asked, poking a lip out comically before giving her ribs a tickle. “You can’t do that. Not fair.”

“But I need my beauty sleep. You wore me out.”

“Me? More like you. You’re a sex machine, woman.”

“I am not.” Rosemary faked outrage but stepped toward him. She looped an arm about his waist and snuggled in to him.

He dropped a kiss on her head, his hand immediately sliding down to squeeze her butt. “I’m working early, so I’ll be off again tonight.”

“Does that mean I should wait here with the handcuffs and whips?” she asked against the buttons of his shirt. She could smell his cologne, the yummy woodsy yet clean scent. She wanted to bathe in it, have his scent on her all day long.

He tipped up her chin. “I’ve unleashed an insatiable monster.”

“Yeah, you have.”

“In all seriousness, there isn’t a moment I don’t want to spend with you. As long as that’s good with you.”

Then he kissed her, his hands sliding up and down her naked back, lingering on the curve of her breast, patting her rump.

And his kiss tasted like coffee and a promise.

“It’s better than good with me,” Rosemary said, going up on her tiptoes to kiss his chin. “I want to be with you. So text me later?”

“Yeah. I can get back here by six o’clock. We’ll go out.”

“Or stay in,” she said.

He kissed his way down to her breasts. “Or I can quit my job and stay here all day long. Just me and your tits.”

Desire reared its head, twitching its ears as if to ask,
Yes?
But Rosemary tamped it down and stepped away. “Just them? Or is the rest of me not invited? And really, don’t start what you can’t finish.”

“No worries. I can be quick,” he said, reaching for her again.

“No, you go on to work. I’ll stay here and find something to do,” she said, cupping her breasts before sliding her hands down her stomach, teasing him.

Something in his gaze flared and he stilled. “Rosemary, you’re killing me.”

She pushed him toward the door. “I’m joking. I’m saving it all for you. Now off you go before you have to explain to your family what you’ve been doing all night.” Rosemary walked to the bed and found her nightgown she’d discarded yesterday. Of course, she had to move Melbourne off it first. She didn’t know what had gotten into her. Rubbing her hands down her body, going down on a guy, walking around naked, and going back to bed. She’d turned into
that
woman. And she loved it. Why hadn’t anyone ever told her how much fun being slutty was?

Sal waited at the door for her, still sipping his coffee, watching her the way a hawk regards the hapless field mouse. “Maybe I want to get fired.”

Something in his tone gave her pause. “Do you?”

“I’m thinking about it. I feel bewitched.”

“Bothered and bewildered?” she finished for him with a smile. “That’s it exactly. My evil plan is now fully realized. When I hopped on my broom and set it for SoHo, I told myself I’d find a sexy Italian and make him my sex slave. Mission accomplished.”

He gave her a hard kiss. “If my being your sex slave qualifies as an evil plan, I’m all in.”

“Silly slave boy, you now have my permission to go make decadent sauces. Return to me and prepare to be punished . . . exquisitely,” she said, unlocking the door and flinging it open with more than a little dramatic flair.

He walked out and paused. “Thank God you have no sense of direction or there might be some other guy under your spell. If I could find the man who pointed you my way, I’d kiss him.”

“Hey, now. I’m open to kinkiness but not that much kinky.” She laughed, blowing him a kiss. “I guess being directionally challenged was a good thing in this case.”

“A very good thing. I’ll see you tonight.” And then he was gone, hurrying down the stairs. As he turned on the landing, he looked up at her and smiled.

Rosemary felt happiness all the way down to her Pretty in Pink toenail polish. She closed the door, locking it. And then double-checked it the way she’d promised her father she would. But she took Sal’s smile and tucked it inside her for an extra glow that would last all day.

She couldn’t wait to see him again.