Dirty Love (6 page)
A substitute.
That's what she was. Someone who reminded Connor of what he'd once had, and what he'd lost. She'd always suspected he didn't want her. Not really. But fuck, suspecting something and having it confirmed were two different things. And, absurdly, knowing it hurt like hell.
"You don't want me.” Saying it aloud, hearing the words ricochet back into her head, cemented the truth. She was in no danger of being ravished by a younger man. And as soon as he realized she was a poor stand-in for the woman he'd lost, he'd let her do her job and then he'd get the hell out of her clinic.
With that thought firmly fixed in her mind, she shoved at his chest. Connor didn't budge. She tried again, pushing harder this time.
Connor narrowed his eyes. He growled, slipped his hands under the globes of her ass, and hauled her into his arms. Before she could utter the slightest noise of protest or marvel at the way he lifted her as though she weighed nothing at all, he crushed his mouth to hers.
She tried to fight him ... for all of a split second. The erotic force in his kiss undid her the moment his tongue swept past the barrier of her lips and thrust into her mouth. It met hers with a sweet, heart-wrenching glide. He tasted like wanton passion and pure male desire. The intoxicating flavor made her head reel.
She clung to his bare shoulders as he spun them both around. She had the vague sensation of moving backward before Connor shoved her up on the small countertop by the sink. Her thighs parted of their own accord and she wrapped her legs around his waist. The kiss deepened, and with each stroke of his tongue, her own exploration of his body grew bolder and less rational.
Her palms swept across his shoulders, down his chiseled back, along his ribs, until she reached his ass and cupped the firm globes, kneading the muscled flesh. He growled into her mouth, a sound of pure satisfaction. She kissed him back with more fierce fury than she'd thought herself capable of, pouring every bit of anger and disappointment, every ounce of need and want and electrifying erotic desire, into the slip of her tongue against his.
Why couldn't it have been her? The fingers of her right hand slipped between them. She found his cock, gripped it. Why couldn't he have fallen madly in lust with
her
?
She broke the kiss first, panting, and couldn't help but glance into his eyes. Gone was the fierceness she'd grown to expect in their depths. All she saw there now was desire as passionate as hers.
For a moment, she allowed herself to believe he did want her. Warmth traveled through her body, settling deep in her core. Her inner walls pulsed with awareness and excitement. It felt right, and oh, so good.
She could pretend. Just for now, just until she could get the sample she needed. He'd wanted her to act like a woman in love. Suddenly, it was no hardship at all.
He took half a step back, putting just enough distance between their bodies to nudge the blazer off her shoulders. She let it fall, hating to unwrap her palm from his erection even long enough to take off the blazer entirely.
When she did, her palm tingled with the memory of his heated rod throbbing against her skin. She wanted to grab it again, to stroke it, to pleasure him until he shuddered in completion.
In her fantasy, the sample-gathering container didn't exist. It was just Connor and Isy, loving each other.
A moan slipped from her lips. She must have let the make-believe scenario gain even more control over her than she'd anticipated, because she found she liked this fantasy enough to keep pretending it could happen.
He leaned in and nudged the side of her throat with his nose, then placed a playful nibbling bite on the curve of her shoulder. His fingers undid the buttons of her silk shirt in record time and flung it off at the first opportunity. Clad in only a matching silk chemise, Isy should have felt exposed. But she wasn't. Not yet.
"Let me,” she whispered when Connor's hands went to the hem of the chemise.
He nodded, his gaze raking over her body.
Strangely, her hands no longer trembled when she lifted the soft fabric and bared herself to him. Her nipples stiffened as cool air danced across the tips. Connor's eyes flashed something carnal and indescribable, but then she lost sight of them as he lowered his head and took one hard nipple into his mouth.
A zing of electricity flared from her breast to her clit, connecting the two sensitive spots with an ethereal glow that seemed to hone in and respond to every flick of Connor's tongue. With soft but insistent pressure, he licked around the stiff nub, then sucked it deep into his mouth, drawing a strangled scream from the depths of her throat.
His free hand found her other breast. Long, tapered fingers pinched the needy nipple. Molten desire exploded in her core, making her cry out again and again. Tiny, little whimpering pleas turned to gasps of bliss as he cupped her breasts in his large hands and squeezed, kneaded, rubbed. Every nerve ending in her nipples came to life, sending an array of frenzied pulses to the apex of her thighs.
Isy squeezed her legs together, feeling the slick material of her panties cling to her enflamed pussy lips.
"The world is so focused on conception, we've forgotten how to give pleasure simply for the joy of it."
Connor's voice, deep and rich, slid through the remainder of her crumbling defenses. She arched her spine, urging him to take her nipple back into his mouth. He swirled the tip of his tongue around it, content for the moment to offer an occasional lick while he spoke.
"Have you ever had a man focus all his attention on bringing you orgasmic bliss, without thought of conception or even of his own pleasure?"
Isy gulped down the instinctive giggle that choked her at the absurd thought. Mankind's survival depended on the males of the species. They took what they wanted, when they wanted, with no thought beyond spilling themselves in a waiting womb. For fertile males, there were no barriers to their lust. Males who'd never produced sperm, and thus had no chance of impregnating anyone, took their aggression and frustration out on their partners, somehow making it
their
fault the men couldn't create life.
Her ex-husband had been infertile, yet he'd believed that if she'd been less of a “frigid bitch,” that would have changed. As though she possessed the power to grant him a jet worthy of a vintage porn star in the depths of her cunt and simply refused to bestow upon him the gift of cum.
"Never? No one's touched your breasts...” Connor ran the tip of his index finger around her areola, making the skin tighten and pucker. “Your belly...” He lowered his hand and traced a slow circle around her bare navel. “Your sexy little pussy...” He found the metal fastening on the waistband of her pants and deftly unhooked it. His knuckles grazed her pubic bone.
Isy's skin tingled. Everywhere he touched, he lit sparks of blazing desire. She bit down on her lower lip, hard, desperate for something that would anchor her to reality. Much more of this and she'd float away on a blissful fantasy and by the time she'd awaken, it would be far too late to keep from making a colossal mistake.
Connor pinched a tender nipple between thumb and forefinger. Tingling streams of erotic energy pulsed through Isy's body in instant response.
"No one's done that for hours just to watch you climax, again and again?” he asked, relentless. “No man has made you his world, able to survive on nothing but another taste of you?"
She shook her head in jerking, feverish motions. Long strands of blond hair fell into her eyes. Connor tucked them behind her ears with one hand, while the other glided beneath the waistband of her panties and found the wet heat of her soaking sex.
This was supposed to be about him. She needed his seed, and that had nothing to do with her ability to orgasm, with or without his help.
She opened her mouth to protest, but he decided to choose that moment to curve his index finger and nudge it between her soaked, aching pussy lips.
She stifled a gasp and angled her hips, urging him on. Her clit throbbed, a hard little knot of needy nerves that all pulsed and flared, begging to be touched.
Connor yanked on the waistband of her panties. She obeyed the unspoken command and lifted her ass from the countertop just long enough to let him slip the panties and slacks down her legs.
As she watched him kneel before her and glide his lips down every inch of skin he revealed, she was absurdly grateful she'd shaved her legs. She'd had no reason to do it, yet somehow it had always seemed important that she keep up good grooming habits.
Absurdly, she'd always hoped celibacy wouldn't be her fate, no matter how much the world wanted to thrust it upon her.
Isy's heart raced. She knew what Connor intended to do, down there on the floor, his head even with her groin. She knew, and she didn't care.
Oh, no, that was an outright lie. She cared ...
so much
. She wanted his mouth on her engorged sex lips, wanted him sucking on each delicate fold, needed him to graze her swollen clit with his tongue.
What would it hurt? She was still pretending she was the one he wanted, and for now, that was enough. Besides, it's not as if she was breaking any law. She wouldn't let him penetrate her—even if he wanted to, which, surely, he didn't.
He used the flat of his palms to spread her thighs apart and gaze at her parting lips. “So beautiful,” he murmured, and Isy imagined that was true reverence she heard in his voice.
She glanced between her legs, assessing the appearance of her pussy with the clinical eye of a practitioner.
Not bad for a forty-four year old
. The inner labia looked dewy and pink, peeking out from a neatly-trimmed thatch of pale pubic hair. Not a gray strand in the bunch, she noted with foolish pride. She could smell her musk, more delicate than she'd expected considering cream seeped between her folds and dripped onto the counter.
Connor pressed the tips of two fingers against her clit and rubbed slowly in small circles. His gaze pinned hers. “Good?"
She said something incomprehensible. A cry and a moan and his name, all rolled into a sigh of breathless wonder.
He grinned, and the sight of that genuine smile made Isy's heart do a summersault.
"More?"
Like he had to ask. She licked her lips. “Please."
So polite. Her voice so damn steady, despite the fact she felt as though she was coming apart at the seams from the inside. The urge to clamp her thighs around Connor's handsome face and grind her pussy against his mouth knocked the air from her lungs. She fought for control, each breath coming in a harsh, ragged gasp as potent need clamped down on her belly and twisted.
Lust knifed her, and still, Connor went slowly. Maddeningly slowly.
He placed sweet, soft kisses to the inside of her thigh. His warm lips caressed her skin and the tip of his tongue left a wet trail in his wake. Each brush of his mouth felt like a sensual embrace, engulfing her flesh, driving deep inside her where the taut need and the silly girlish fantasies had been lying dormant for so long.
The progress of his mouth wasn't even a kiss any longer. It was a getting-to-know you exploration, each erotic lick branding her, claiming her.
When he finally reached her pussy, he hovered there, his lips tantalizingly close to her aching center. She felt his breath, every puff stoking flames of raw need, making her quiver while her emotions spiked and spiraled out of control.
One more second. She only had to hold on for one more second and he'd give her what she craved. He'd cover the remainder of the distance and clamp his mouth to her pussy in a soul-shattering, mind-numbing intimate kiss.
She ground her teeth together so hard her jaw hurt. Her fingernails dug into her palms. Her breath jerked in tiny little spasms that held her on the edge of climax. One touch of his lips, one fleeting dab of his tongue, and she'd come so hard and so fast that she'd howl with the endless pleasure of it.
Lightning-fast, before she could even fathom the cruelty of it, Connor rose to his full height. His chin grazed her cheek when he leaned in again to whisper in her ear. “I can do this for hours, Isabel.
Hours
. And then, just when you think you can't take any more, you'll beg me to fuck you. You'll be so hungry for my cock that you'll plead with me to shove it inside you and take you, again and again and again."
"No.” A croak of denial, but she meant it. She couldn't succumb to the maddening sexual urges. No matter how agonizing they were, or how tantalizing Connor was. She
wouldn't
give in.
"No?"
Not Connor. Another voice. A man, somehow familiar.
Isy struggled to make sense of what she was hearing, but her body betrayed her, quaking and making it impossible to think past the agony in her clit and the throbbing heat inside her clenched cunt.
"No,” she repeated.
Too dangerous. Too easy to fall, too hard to let go.
Her hands flew to the acute twinge between her legs. She knew her body. One touch would relieve the temporary madness, but she couldn't do it without her fingers, or Connor's fingers, or his tongue, or—
Connor was faster. He grabbed her wrists, pushed them together and yanked her hands over her head, holding them there.
Pleasure and pain mingled inside her. She tried to twist out of his grasp and shift on the now-warm surface of the counter. Her pussy left a slick trail of cream along the glossy finish.
"Well, then..."
That voice again. The
other
one.
"If you won't take Connor's cock, have mine."
The jolt of recognition surprised Isy even more than the suggestive allure of the newcomer's words. She jerked her head to the side just enough to make out something other than the broad, sexy chest blocking her line of sight.
She gasped, and her heart plunged into the pit of her stomach. “Oh. My. God."
"Hello, Isy."
Trevor.
She froze, caught between wanting to scream and, urged by her body's demanding erotic buzz, wanting to throw herself at him.
