Dancing on the Wind (6 page)

unsheathed nails down his broad back. But when he pushed up and put his hands on

the front of her blouse—his intent apparent in the glittering depths of his amber eyes—

she shook her head.

“Don’t you dare!” she said. “This blouse cost me a small fortune.”

“Then take it off!” he snarled, and rolled off her, coming to his feet beside the bed in

one lithe bound. The dark burgundy pullover he was wearing was gone before she had

time to take another breath, the wide expanse of his powerfully cut chest making her

mouth water as he stood there running the buttons on his jeans. When he spared her a

quick, impatient glance, she quickly rolled to the opposite side of the bed and began

stripping off her blouse and slacks.

Fallon turned his back, sat down on the edge of her bed to take off his sneakers and

socks before standing and shoving the jeans down his long legs. Facing the bed once

more, the breath caught in his throat for his new partner—actually the only one he’d

ever had—was standing on the other side of the mattress as naked as the day she’d

been born and looking far too innocent for his state of mind. He watched her face pale

and had to wonder what she’d seen in his expression that had caused that reaction.

Keenan swallowed hard for there was rampant lust flashing through those striking

eyes of his and as his tongue came out to sweep across his upper lip like a man ready to

feast at a banquet, she trembled.

“Don’t hurt me, Fallon,” she said, putting a knee to the coverlet. She had to clamp

her mouth shut to stop her teeth from chattering.

Hurting her was the last thing on Fallon’s mind as he got on the bed, stretching out

on his side, his entire body tensed and primed. He wanted to lose himself in her silken

folds, but for the first time in his life, he found himself wanting to give as much

pleasure in the act as he was about to receive.

“Come here, baby,” he said gruffly, lifting his left arm so she could place her body

close to his. He made a mental note to go slowly with her—easy, gently—though he

was on fire wanting her beneath him.

The moment they touched flesh to flesh something uncontrollable spread over the

both of them. He was on his back with her atop him. He locked his arms savagely

around her, her thighs outside his own. Their mouths greedily fed upon the other’s lips,

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Dancing on the Wind

tongues dueling like serpents, bodies grinding together. They twisted and writhed

upon the mattress, grunting and moaning until he flipped her over, sliding down her

body to fasten his mouth upon one hard little nipple.

Keenan moaned and buried her hands in the thick darkness of his wavy hair. The

texture of it sent shivers of delight down her arms for it was soft and clean and like dark

chocolate flowing through her fingers. She closed her eyes to the sensations he was

wreaking upon her body as he licked at her nipple and nibbled it, flicked his tongue

across it then sucked it deep into his mouth. His right hand was beneath her left leg, his

fingers stroking lightly along the ultrasensitive flesh behind her slightly upraised knee.

As he shifted his attention to her other nipple, she shivered for his hand now cupped

the upper part of her calf and he was lifting her leg over his back. She slid the sole of

her foot along his firm buttock and heard the growl deep in his throat.

The scent of her filled Fallon’s nostrils and he released her nipple to writhe his way

down her sleek, supple body until he was lapping at the sweet indention of her navel.

She tasted like mangoes and where his tongue flicked, the flesh rose in gooseflesh.

He moved lower still until he was staring wide-eyed at the sensually cropped patch

that grew in a heart shape upon her mons. Perfectly trimmed with no sign of stubble

above the deep V of the heart or along its slightly curved sides, the hair beckoned his

fingertips to touch the wiry curls, to test their springiness and softness. He threaded his

fingers through the short spirals.

“How?” he asked, his breath blowing across her flesh.

She knew what he meant. “Laser.”

“Ah,” he sighed, and placed his lips just above the arches of the heart to place a

gentle kiss there.

Keenan was stroking the lush hair back from his high forehead, grazing his

widow’s peak with her thumb, but when he lapped her between the legs, she sucked in

a breath and her fingers tightened in his hair. She heard him chuckle a moment before

both his hands were at the apex of her thighs and his thumbs were easing her folds

aside. His hot breath on her most private of parts caused her to squeeze her eyes tightly

closed then bury the side of her face in the pillow.

The heated scent of her sex—wet and spicy—drew him like a magnet and he flicked

out his tongue to drag it up one fold, across the clit and down the opposite fold. He

probed gently at her opening then licked his way up in quick little laps until he could

wrap his lips around her.

“Oh my God!” she whispered as he drew on that sensitive area. He was nibbling

her and sending shock waves of pure delight racing along her spine. She removed her

hands from his hair—fearful she would tug too sharply—and slammed them down at

her sides, gathering the coverlet in her fists and twisting the fabric as he continued to

mouth her.

Fallon felt like a starving man. His nostrils were filled with the musky aroma of her

juices as she wriggled her hips beneath his tender assault. He’d never taken so much

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Charlotte Boyett-Compo

time with a woman before—had never wanted to—and he was surprised at his reaction

to a woman he’d developed an instant disliking to.

His hands were splayed along the creases of her taut thighs, his thumbs holding her

apart for his tasting. Though he’d gone down on women in the past, he’d never taken as

much pleasure from the act as it was giving him at that moment. Not a woman among

them tasted as sweet and intoxicating as this one. He could hear the blood rushing

through his veins in anticipation of impaling her upon his shaft, and that shaft was as

hard and thick as he could ever remember it being. Yet he continued to lap at the juices

that flowed from her as her hips undulated and her thighs tensed.

“Please!” he heard her whisper.

A slow, crooked smile peeled his lips back and he slithered up her, sliding his body

over hers, pushing her thighs farther apart with his knees and fastened his lips to hers,

his tongue probing deep.

Keenan could taste herself on his tongue and her womb leapt. She brought her

hands up to clutch at his back—fingers flexing beneath his shoulder blades. Her legs

went around his waist and she hooked her ankles together, drawing him as close to her

body as he could get, the weight of him lying atop her so divine it made her shiver.

Fallon reached down for the straining flesh that was aching to plunge between her

legs and guided it to her hot core. He stroked her with the rigid cock—smearing the

pre-cum along her vaginal lips—and lifted his mouth from hers. He gazed down into

her face, watched as she moistened her lips with her sweet little pink tongue, took in the

need glowing in her hazel eyes then thrust slowly into her body. Once the tip was past

her wet folds, he slipped both his hands beneath her firm ass and lifted her toward him,

settling their groins tightly together as he buried his cock as far as it would go inside

her.

Oh God, how he filled her! she thought as her nails dug into his back. He was

stretching her so possessively—not moving, just lying there looking down at her,

waiting for her to adjust to his thickness, his length.

“Okay?” he asked in a voice so soft he didn’t recognize it.

She nodded, unable to speak past the lump lodged in her throat. Her eyes were on

his handsome face, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her need so great she wanted to

writhe against him as though she were an eel.

Very slowly at first he began to ease in and out of her moist channel. She knew he

was gauging the discomfort she might be feeling and tightened her legs even more

around him, wanting—no,
needing
—him to be more forceful with his pushes. He

seemed to sense that and increased his speed, the length of his strokes until she thought

the head of his cock was pushing against her very womb. It was a wondrously heavy

feeling, slightly painful but completely fulfilling and she sighed as she buried her head

against his shoulder.

Fallon’s ass tightened with each thrust into her velvety heat. The smell of their

juices was driving him mad and it was all he could do not to plunge into her like a man

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Dancing on the Wind

possessed. Her body was perfect for him. She felt right beneath him, fitting him as no

woman ever had before. Strange thoughts began to flit through his mind as his need

increased along with his speed. He was losing himself in this gorgeous female, handing

something into her keeping that he had never planned to give to any woman. He was

stunned at his reaction to her since it had not been his intention to do anything but scare

her when he’d come to her door. Now he was experiencing feelings that damned well

should never have been brought into the light of day. That not only worried him, it

scared the hell out of him.

Keenan was amazed at the emotions rocketing through her with each thrust of

Mikhail Fallon’s body into hers. She was clinging to him, striving to merge their two

bodies into one and that stunned her. She’d never wanted to belong to a man, never

wanted to give up her freedom. Love ’em and leave ’em had been her motto up until

then, but this man filling her to the brim with his powerful flesh was doing wicked

things to her control. She suspected she was handing herself over to him, offering

herself up, expecting him to take charge of her, and that frightened her badly. That

wasn’t what she wanted.

“Stop thinking,” he growled at her. He was pumping into her with such fierce

intent she could do no more than hold on to him and be taken along for the ride.

The bed beneath them was bouncing with the force of his thrusts, the headboard

kicking against the wall. The patchwork coverlet was bunching under Keenan’s body

and one pillow had fallen to the floor. Overhead, the fan’s blade began to spin faster. It

seemed to be a goad for Fallon for his plunges became frenzied pumping that brought

small grunts from Keenan’s lips.

With a suddenness that stunned them both, her vaginal muscles began quivering,

drawing, pulling, sucking at his flesh and his cock spurted thickly, hotly, deeply into

her cunt. They were both straining as their combined releases raced through them—

seeming to go on and on and on—with a fevered intensity that had them shouting with

the pure, intense pleasure of the joint climaxes. His head was thrown back as he howled

with ecstasy. Her fingernails were stapled into his back as she drove her hips from the

bed to press brutally into his, her mouth open as she panted. They shuddered at the

same time and both went limp, his weight crushing down upon her, his head turned so

his cheek rested on her shoulder. With hearts thundering, blood pounding, breaths

ragged and shallow, they lay exhausted with eyes closed, brows furrowed and limbs

tangled.

For what seemed like hours they lay like that until Keenan finally became aware of

the sticky seeping of their mixed juices down her thigh and beneath her rump. She

shifted uncomfortably and heard him grunt, wondered if he’d been dozing, wondered

if she had. When he lifted his head to look down at her, she felt something pluck at her

heartstrings for there was a fall of dark hair covering his forehead and she ached to

reach up and smooth it back.

He stared at her for a long time then rolled off her to stretch out on his back beside

her. He brought one knee up and flung an arm over his eyes to block out the late

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Charlotte Boyett-Compo

afternoon sun. He had a wicked headache above his right temple and that wasn’t a

good sign.

“What the
hell
just happened?” he asked, his voice strained.

“I don’t know,” she lied. She knew perfectly well what had happened and she

suspected he did too. His next words confirmed her suspicion.

“I sure as hell wasn’t expecting that. Goddamn.”

The scent of their combined juices embarrassed her and she sat up, swung her legs

from the bed.

He reached out to run a finger across the small of her back where a dark blue tattoo

of a Celtic knotwork butterfly had been drawn. “This is pretty. I like it.”

She couldn’t look at him, so without another word, she got up and padded into the

bathroom, closing the door. Going to the sink, she braced her hands on the vanity and

just stood there with her head down for several moments, staring at the drain. Slowly,

she lifted her head to look in the mirror and was surprised at what she saw looking

back at her.

Her eyes were glazed with spent lust. Her lips were swollen from his fierce kisses.

There was a slight beard burn on her chin. Her hair was escaping the once-tight

constriction of her French braid and was spiking around her head. There was a dull