Authors: Kathleen Dante
Dreamwalker (10 page)
A triumphant grin flashed across her face at his question. “Just one. Me.” The husky murmur played havoc with his libido.
Her and him. Alone. Naked.
Damon fought to rein in his randy imagination and clear his head. Two could play that game. His master thief wasn’t going to get the upper hand without a fight.
Looking straight into her jade green eyes, he unbuttoned his shirt. “I’m game.” Let the chips fall where they would; this mission was more important than his self-protective concerns.
She took him up on his challenge, her nimble fingers quickly unbuckling his belt. Her hands slid under his pants, pushing them off his hips, along with his briefs, in one impatient motion.
Leaving him clad only in his shirt . . . and even that didn’t stay on long. She tugged it off his shoulders and flung it away, rendering him naked before her.
Her arousal flared as she stared at him, mirroring the hot flush that swept her high cheekbones. At least she wasn’t unmoved. He’d have hated it if she were doing all this merely as a power play.
“Like what you see?” Damon puffed out his chest, getting into the spirit of her game. Just because he had to didn’t mean he couldn’t enjoy himself.
She licked her glossy pink lips before answering. “Oh, definitely.”
“How about some equality, here?” He slid his fingers along her jumpsuit’s lapels consideringly. He’d have sworn it was the same one from the night on the museum rooftop. Except she wasn’t. He dismissed the puzzle for the time being, more concerned with clinching her agreement. “I’d hate to have to tear this off.”
“Maybe next time?” she suggested eagerly with a playful glint in her eyes.
His master thief’s rejoinder startled a laugh out of him. Maybe this enforced intimacy wouldn’t be so bad, after all. The zipper hummed on its slow descent, building his anticipation as the black fabric parted to reveal pale skin, not dusky or sun kissed—totally unmarked by tan lines.
For an instant, doubt stirred.
It was one thing to go from pale to tanned. Damon knew there were all sorts of lotions and cosmetics that made it possible. But he’d seen for himself the golden tan she’d had on the beach. That hadn’t been the product of a bottle. Yet here she was, all peaches and cream.
But his mental sense said she was the same woman. No matter what he saw on the outside, she was his master thief. He’d doubted himself once, but with his mental antennae and her claiming the same thing, he had to accept that she was the same woman. To do otherwise meant doubting the inner sense that had saved him on more occasions than he could count.
He pushed the jumpsuit off her shoulders, needing to see more of her. Wondering how far her disguise went.
Not that she made exploring her easy. She played her hands over him, doing some exploration of her own.
Her movements were distracting, to say the least. Especially when she ran her blunt nails over and around his nipples, provoking a shiver of delight. He’d never been particularly sensitive there before.
But Damon persevered.
Pulling her closer, he bent down to nuzzle her neck, getting a whiff of nothing more than light sweat and pure woman. No perfume. No lotion. No powder. No chemicals. No explanation for the fairness of her complexion.
A quick lick of her shoulder only reinforced his findings. Slightly salty, but no artificial enhancements. She was exactly as she appeared to be. For some reason, that only made his cock thicken even more.
His master thief shivered in his arms. “I hope you don’t bite.”
“Not usually.” Though now that she mentioned it, he was tempted . . . and more than tempted, once he managed to uncover her breasts. Duty’d never looked so good.
Her areolas were large, puffy, and brownish pink, tipped with hard candy ready for sucking and quickly growing tighter. Certainly worth a nibble or two.
He took one in his mouth, drawing on the toffee nubbin, and plucked the other with his fingers. Surprise and delight dealt him double body blows as she squealed and writhed in his arms; clearly, his master thief was an unusually sensitive woman.
Despite the onslaught, Damon grinned to himself, gratified by her passionate response. While she might have gotten him into her bed, she wouldn’t be calling all the shots—not if he had anything to say about it.
“Oh, you’re good.” She wrapped her arms around him, anchoring herself as she pressed her breast to his mouth. “And you feel even better.”
She swept her hands up his back, across his shoulders, then down to his ass, her palms maintaining constant, steady contact as though she were surveying him for purchase or memorizing every inch of skin.
The sensual fire of her touch made Damon hiss, so aware was he of it. Never before had he felt so claimed.
“I want you,” she whispered as she pressed her body against his, her jade eyes darkening to the green of holly leaves.
“Good.” At least this treacherous desire wasn’t one-sided. It was time to show her she wouldn’t have everything her way. Pushing her jumpsuit off her hips, he dragged her minuscule bikini down her legs and pulled the black cap off her head, spilling wavy, white-gold locks across her shoulders.
She’d challenged his imagination? Well, then, he’d give her exactly what she’d asked for.
Burying his hands in her hair, he pressed kisses along her neck and collarbone, once more noting the fairness of the fine, silky skin beneath his lips. How was it possible?
“Mmm . . . that’s nice.” Despite the way her body shivered against his, the hint of doubt in her voice suggested that his lovemaking technique was on trial, stirring memories of the night at the museum.
“I’m just getting started.” Damon pivoted around her, catching her elbow to hold her in place while he moved behind her. Then he resumed his kisses, tracing the firm muscles of her back with his mouth, then down along the curve of her spine.
“What are you up to?”
“You said you wanted me to use my imagination, right?” Kneeling, he paused to nip the upper slope of her high, round ass, noting its muscular firmness and promising himself a more thorough exploration of her body in the future.
She squealed in surprise. “Yes . . .”
“There’s something I’ve always wanted to try.” With her flexibility and physical strength, she would probably have no problem with the position he had in mind.
Already stiff and throbbing from the sensual byplay, his cock jerked with excitement at the prospect. The dominance of it held a dark appeal.
Her fingers tangled in his hair, pulling back until he met her gaze over her hip. “You mean there’s something you haven’t done before?”
Damon wasn’t worried he’d scare her off. To his mental sense, she glittered with golden curiosity, not the muddier “hues” of caution. “Yes.”
“I’m game,” she informed him, running her hand through his hair, then releasing him in a gesture of permission.
“Kneel down.”
She obeyed with a curious smile, going to her knees beside the bed, keeping her back toward him. Then she bent forward at the waist and arched her back, lifting her ass saucily. Her wide stance presented him with an irresistible image: her dark pink pussy lips spread wide in welcome and gleaming with cream.
The minx!
He took her up on that invitation. Easing closer behind her, he set his cock head against her slit and carefully worked it in, mindful of his size and her level of arousal.
Oh, God, she was so damned tight!
Panting softly, she pushed back, meeting his thrust, trying to take more of him, but she just wasn’t ready enough, even though he wasn’t as large as he would be later. She persisted, though, groaning and gasping while her pussy milked and squeezed his sensitive head.
Just the sound of her struggling made him feel enormous.
Damon paused to give both of them time to adjust to the delicious contact, while he figured out the mechanics for what he wanted to do next. As he’d said, he’d never tried that particular position before.
After a while, her breathing slowed and her inner muscles relaxed a bit, letting him press deeper, working more of his length into her body. Then still more, until finally his belly brushed her backside.
He held her in place, savoring her yielding flesh and the slick heat surrounding him. Damn, she felt good, and this was only the first step.
“Hmmm.” Propping her elbows on the mattress, she looked over her shoulder at him and arched a brow in an expression of gentle tolerance, obviously having recovered her composure. “This is hardly—”
Hooking his hands under her thighs, Damon got to his feet and raised her up along with him, off her knees and into the air, and into his thrust. Her legs clamped around his hips spasmodically—an unexpected blast of raw sensation that nearly shattered his control.
They gasped in chorus, her grabbing the bed, him rocking on his heels while he fought to regain his equilibrium. The motion only drove him deeper, setting his cock jerking and twitching in her velvet wetness. Her heels clapped on his back, pulling him into even tighter contact.
Damon gritted his teeth against the urge to let loose. How the fuck could he overwhelm her with his imagination, if he shot his load at the first flash of pleasure?
It didn’t help his self-control to see the round cheeks of her gorgeous ass clenched before him, the contrast of the pale curves with his dark arms emphasizing their differences. He wanted to fondle the mounds, to knead and caress and feel for himself if they were as tender as they looked.
And below them, her pink pussy lips stretched wide around his cock, straining to take him. He’d never felt more of a man than right then. A sudden, rapacious hunger made his heart leap. His cock hardened further, swelling as more blood rushed south.
His thief gave a low, breathless moan, her fingers digging into the sky blue coverlet, her hair a fall of pale gold against all the color. She tottered unsteadily.
“Um . . .” Finally, a note of uncertainty from the woman who’d thrown him off his stride from the first time they’d met.
He found that he had no taste for being the cause of it. He preferred her brash self-confidence and unashamed sensuality. “Put your weight on your forearms.”
She did, her shifting balance swirling delight around his cock. “Oh! Oh, my.” Her strong legs tightened their grip around his waist, securing her balance and squeezing him with her inner muscles.
The rippling caress flowed up his length, a nerve-searing sweetness that threatened to melt his knees. It was too much to take standing still.
Hitching her higher, Damon began to move. Since her stance kept him from withdrawing, he tilted his pelvis experimentally, first one way, then another, trying to find the most pleasurable angles. His reward came immediately: the motions amplified the carnal friction, eliciting more of that fluttering response. Sparkles of delight frothed through his cock to burst like champagne bubbles in his balls.
When his simple efforts were met with low, feminine growls of unqualified approval, he decided to attempt a faster beat. It would take more than that to win her over, and if her acceptance of the mission depended on his performance, he had to prove to her he was worth it.
A wave of pure delight rose from her at the shift in his motions. Adjusting quickly, she danced with him, her body twisting and swaying to his direction.
Damon smiled to himself, elated by the success of his maneuver. With her legs locked around him, he didn’t have to use his hands to support her . . . and his master thief was vulnerable to his exploration, unable to release him without falling. It was an opportunity not to be missed.
With growing confidence, he let his hands wander, sliding them down to her hips, then up, discovering the silken skin around her groin, the taut rippling of her belly, the plush softness of her breasts. All tender flesh and vigorous muscle waiting to be claimed, flowing in a primal rhythm that couldn’t be denied.
The gasps that met his caresses spurred him on, incited a need to hear more—lower and louder.
She quivered beneath his palms and stiffened when he captured her breasts, a whimper of need escaping her as she squirmed in his grasp. Long, hard nubs ground against his palms; if his mental sense hadn’t been already awash with her delight, her distended nipples would still be incontrovertible proof of her arousal.
It soothed something inside him. The memory of her easy desertion of his lovemaking at the museum had stung.
This time, Damon had every intention of pushing her beyond anything she could imagine. He rocked his hips, hissing as his sensitive cock head ground over the hard mass of her G-spot, the contact like a match to gasoline, sending him up in flames.
She cried out in surprise, her lush pleasure a scarlet tenderness like velvet across his mental sense—unexpected and completely seductive. Arching her back, she answered his thrusts with her own, her legs locked tight.
He could sense her excitement increasing with each bump and grind, each rock and roll of their bodies. He wasn’t immune to it himself, hard-pressed not to lose himself to the siren song of burning ecstasy. But not just yet.
Damon attacked her G-spot, bringing all his carnal attention to bear on that responsive flesh.
A throaty moan of desire filled the sultry night, low and needy, passionate and honest. No hiding her hunger. Her raw excitement fed his own, fanning the flames into a roaring wildfire that demanded his submission.
“Oh, God!” Her legs spasmed around his hips, her heels digging into his back.
Just a little more. She was right at the edge.
Hanging on to the shreds of his control by his clenched teeth, he stepped up his motions, fighting the aching pressure in his cock with everything he had.
Need coiled in Damon’s balls, tightening around them until it was all he could do to restrain his fast-rising orgasm. Not yet! He wasn’t done yet.
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