Ditching The Dream (Dream Series) (20 page)

My heart was pounding in my chest, my ears ringing, my mouth had gone dry.

“Right?” he asked again. I could only nod.

“I can’t hear you.” His hand tugged my silk shirt from my trousers’ waistband and made its way up my side, burning a trail on my skin like a sparkler on the Fourth of July. “I’m not alone in this need, am I? You want this as much as I do, yes?”

I licked my lips and with a shaky voice squeaked, “Yes.”

“That’s better,” he groaned as his hand worked its way to my breast. “Oh, I can’t wait to see this,” he groaned, his hand delicately exploring my heaving, lace covered mound.

A nervous smile sprung to my lips. As much as I’d chosen that pink lace bra and matching panty set for him, I wasn’t so certain that he’d be seeing it. Now it seemed that was a foregone conclusion.

Before I knew it, we were stopped in front of Jack’s home and moments later we were inside, Jack pushing me up against the closed front door.

“I want you so badly right now, Beth. Do you have any idea?” he asked, pressing his hips into me so I could feel every inch of his cock at my lower belly.

“I think I’m getting the picture,” I panted back. “But I need a moment, here.”

“Right, I’m sorry,” he said stepping back and shoving his hand through his hair. “Forgive me,” he said, glancing at me then extending a hand. “Please, come in. Can I get you something to drink?”

I took his hand and followed him to the living room. He flipped the switch on the wall and shrugged out of his jacket, only releasing my hand to drop his jacket on the back of the oversized velvet chair.

My eyes dropped down and saw that the carpet that I had spit the red wine all over and wished I could crawl into a hole. There were still spots.

I turned my head to find him looking at me. “I like the memories of that night. I decided to not replace the rug.” His eyes flicked to the hallway where he had me pushed up against the wall, my shirt hanging open, his shirt on the floor. I don’t know if it was the memories or the alcohol talking, but I decided right then and there that I was going to see this through. I was going to “sow some wild oats.”

“What are you thinking about?” he asked.

I blushed wildly. I know I did.

“The last time I was here,” I answered honestly.

“Me too,” he said, his head lowering to mine, his lips only inches from mine. “Can I get you something to drink?”

I wanted those lips back on me. I wanted those lips on my lips, on my neck, on my breast. And he’s asking about a cocktail?

I needed something cool. I had a sneaking suspicion that this was going to take a while, that Jack wasn’t going to rush things. Something in his demeanor tonight. The effects of all the alcohol at dinner already clouding my judgment, I opted for something simple. “Water,” I replied.

“Be right back,” he whispered, his sweet breath washing over my face before he was gone – and I was left wanting, needing. I made my way to the oversized velvet chair and sat down, trying to catch my breath.

He came back with a crystal glass of cold water. I drank it in nearly one long gulp. I held the glass in my lap and looked up to see Jack sitting in the chair directly across from me, studying me — like he had some burning question.

“What?” I asked.

“Before tonight, you were a challenge. But dinner tonight has shown me you in a whole new light.” He sat back in his chair and searched my face, his eyes hooded and dark with so much lust. “You are an incredible woman, Beth. I want you. I’ve never wanted to be with another woman the way I want to be with you.”

He
wants
me. He
wants
to be with me. I don’t think I’ve ever heard Greg say those things to me. Greg’s said he needed me, but
wanted?
Nope. And to hear that I was wanted was the biggest aphrodisiac.
Want
is choice. My breath quickened and I stared back, not knowing what to say. I wanted to scream,
Take me to bed and show me how much you want me!
But that wouldn’t be right. Would it? What do I say?

“And how about you, Beth. Do you need me too?”

I wanted to shout
Yes!
But, I couldn’t find my words. I did need him. I wanted him, but I also needed him. I needed the way he was confident in me. I nodded.

“Stand up,” he quietly commanded.
That
voice was back. The one that commanded, not with force, but with desire.
That
was what I needed. Slowly I stood and placed the glass in my hand on the side table. My legs were shaking, not entirely from nerves, but from the excitement that was buzzing inside.

“Take a step closer,” was his next instruction. I did so, as if there were an invisible cord attached to me from his voice. We were nearly knee to knee.

“I want to see that lacy bra you wore for me tonight. Unbutton your blouse,” he continued, staring up at me. And even though he was looking up, he was in complete control.

I slowly inhaled and held my breath. Was I really going to show him? Was I really going to unbutton my shirt and show him my bra like we were a couple of high school kids? I stared into his smoldering eyes, trying to read him.

“Breathe. And, I would prefer if you start from the top.”

And as if I were no longer controlled by my own thoughts, I let out my breath, and my hands rose to the top button of my shirt. With shaky hands I undid each button.

Jack stood and slowly walked to stand behind me. He pulled me back into him and I could feel his throbbing cock pressed against the small of my back. His free hand came up and a finger slowly drew down the right side of my neck. My skin sparked to life, my nipples, that had already started to pucker, grew painfully taught. Moisture started to pool between my legs. My head instinctively dropped to the left to allow his touch full access. His finger continued down my shoulder, pushing the fabric of my blouse aside.

I shuddered when I felt his lips on my ear, placing small kisses down the trail his finger had just made. I moaned at the sweet sensation his lips caused.

Next his left hand was coming up my left arm, over my shoulder and his fingers curled around the fabric pulling it slowly from my shoulder and he slid the fabric all the way down my arms. I heard the soft whoosh of the silk as it hit the floor and I waited for his hands to be on me again.

I started to turn to look at him standing behind me, but his hands were on my hips to stop me. Why wouldn’t he let me turn to see him? I wanted to see how he was feeling with this. I needed to see how I was affecting him, because I was falling apart.

“Do your panties match your bra?” he whispered into my ear, his voice choked and hoarse.

Again, language having vacated my head, I could only nod. Immediately, I felt his left hand find the trousers’ zipper on my hip and slowly pull it down, his right hand gripping almost painfully into my hip.

His hands took hold of the waistband and he started to lower his body behind me, his nose running down my back. I heard him inhale and then groan as he made his way to my waist. I longed to see him crouched there behind me, but couldn’t find it in myself to turn and chance a peek.

When he reached to the top of my pants, he slowly pulled the pants down to reveal the matching lace panties. I smiled quietly to myself. Where some women would have chosen a thong, but that just wasn’t my style. The panties that I chose to match this bra had a full lace back.

“Fffuuck! So hot,” Jack muttered behind me, and my small smile broke into a grin and I dropped my head back. Hearing that I had pleased him caused desire to pool in my panties.

He inhaled deeply, his nose at my junction. “Delectable.” My knees started to wobble.
Just touch me!
I wanted to scream.

He took ahold of my hand and put it on his shoulder then helped me step out of my pants, but leaving my heels securely on my feet. “These make the outfit,” he said, caressing my shoe. He tossed my trousers off to the side somewhere and slowly stood. As he did, he dragged his hands up my legs, over my hips and waist. His touch was so tender it was driving me crazy. I pushed my hips back to feel him against me again. I craved his touch, my body singing for attention.

He sat back in the seat behind us, I was left standing. The absence of his body warmth next to me caused me to shiver. “Turn around,” he whispered.

I wrapped my arms around my midsection and did as he commanded, my chest heaving with each barely contained breath. I suddenly missed my long hair to cover me up some.

His eyes flared with lust then traveled slowly over my body, taking in every inch. I could see that he particularly enjoyed seeing my nipples straining at the lace.

“Lower your arms. I want to see all of you.”

What?
Good God almighty. Trembling, I lowered my arms. For what seemed like an eternity, his eyes worked me over.

“Perfection,” he whispered. I rolled my eyes at that. I was hardly perfection, especially to someone who worked with actual models daily. True, I had started working out about six months ago and had toned some of my body, but there were still about ten or maybe fifteen pound that I wanted to shed.

“You don’t agree?” he asked.

“I’m far from
perfection,
” I whispered.

“Trust me on this, Beth. Your body — is perfect.”

He leaned in, ran his hand up the inside of my thigh and placed his lips below my navel. My body begged for more.

P
erfection.

The evening had been perfection. Aside from the neighbor, who was a little too handsy in my opinion.

But the dinner, and conversation… Perfection. She’s such an interesting woman. She had interests and opinions. Not like the other mindless bimbos I had been with in the past. Beth was well spoken, and caring. And so smart. Perfection. I would bet that she could learn any profession and be wildly successful.

And now here she stood. In my living room. Again. This time I wouldn’t mess things up. She would be mine. And I was so lucky to have her.

My eyes couldn’t get enough of her.

Her body was absolutely stunning. Why couldn’t the modeling industry see
this
? Why did they demand sickeningly skinny girls for the runway?

Beth’s body was what was sexy. I knew it. Most men knew it. They didn’t want the sticks on toothpicks that designers demanded for the runways. Beth’s body was soft and toned. Not skin and bones. Her skin glowed.

A complete package that begged to be touched. Sitting here, looking, was killing me, but looking was a delight. My cock ached to be released from my pants. I wanted to shift and give him some space, but if I moved, I feared I would shoot my load already.

Tonight was going to go longer than that. I was going to enjoy every moment. And I was going to find a way to make Beth stay.

“T
ell me you need to be with me,” he muttered against my skin.

“I do,” I panted.

“Say it,” he growled, pulling back his head depriving me of the lips that were fueling the fire, his eyes wild and dark, searching mine. “Please. Tell me you need me.”

There was so much in that plea. Not just the carnal passion. I knew Jack’s history. Youngest of a big family. He was fully entrenched in an industry where one is lauded primarily for their face and physique, and little more. And he was a bachelor in his fifties.

“I need you,” I whispered.

Jack stood, and placed a finger under my chin forcing me to look up at him. He was truly handsome. Every facet of his face. And what I saw in his eyes, a determined hunger, accentuated his sexuality.

“Go upstairs. First door.”

I was confused. He was sending me ahead? “Aren’t you coming?”

“I want to watch you walk. I want to watch you move,” he said.

Oh.

I had to tell my feet to move. After a steadying breath, I turned and took a step out of the seating area and started to walk toward the foyer. I was so turned on, walking in four-inch heels and lacy skivvies. And knowing that a man as sexy as Jack was watching. I turned to the large curved staircase that graced the enormous entryway and glanced back to see Jack staring at my backside. Not just my ass, but my legs.