His to Take (22 page)

“That feel good?”

“That was great.” Far better than anything she’d ever given herself. It definitely
surpassed anything Ryan Fuller had given her on prom night.

“Was?”

She hesitated. “Yeah. The orgasm is over.”

Joaquin sent her a wolfish laugh. “That wasn’t an orgasm.”

“Of course it was.” It had to be. The edge of the pleasure now wasn’t quite as sharp
as it had been. What else could it have been?

“Is that what you think?” He lifted his fingers from her needy bud.

Instantly, demand slammed her as desire returned full force. She gasped and looked
up at him with wide eyes.

“Exactly,” he growled. “Why would you think you’d had an orgasm?”

“I-I’ve never . . .” God, how embarrassing to realize that he knew more about her
body than she did.

“Never? Was your last lover totally inept?”

Pretty much. She hadn’t known it at the time, but they’d been the blind leading the
blind, so the confusion made sense. “Inexperienced.”

He kissed the side of her breast. “Oh, the things I’m going to do to you.”

The thought made her feel faint. Already, he’d done far more than she’d ever experienced.
And if he gave her more pleasure than she was acquainted with, well, then . . . wow.

“Can we hurry?”

“Oh, impatient. I don’t know, baby girl. You were prepared to make me wait.”

But she’d waited her whole life. Joaquin alone had been honest about her identity.
Now he was showing her genuine pleasure between a man and a woman. “I was wrong.”

“You were.” He nodded. “You can make it up to me by asking me to remove your panties.”

Bailey ached to shove them down herself, but with her hands tethered to the bed that
was impossible. “Take my panties off. Please. Now.”

“Hmm.” He rubbed the firm square of his jaw, pretending deep thought. “That was more
impatience than sincerity.”

“I mean it. I need it.” She was begging and she didn’t care anymore. Pride was nothing
in the face of this ache. Bailey hated that he’d been able to undo her so easily,
but honestly, had she expected to keep up with him? No.

“I’m teasing,” he assured her, then took hold of the lace around her waist and slowly
began dragging the scrap of fabric down.

The chilly air hit her hip bones before he paused just above her mound. Her entire
body tensed as she waited, wanted. But he dragged it out, making her guess if he would
continue, when he’d decide. Finally, he tugged the silky bit down and pushed them
to her knees before anchoring a foot in the crotch. He kicked down to finish the job.

Bailey didn’t watch that, just saw his gaze zero in on her swollen sex. She felt his
stare like an actual touch. Everything sensitive between her legs surged and leapt,
pouting and anticipating.

He dragged a knuckle down her slick, smooth lips. “You’re bare.”

“I have to wax. My costumes are sometimes thin and pale. Revealing. I’m sorry if you’re
disappointed—”

“Fuck no.” That finger of his skated over her wet flesh again, making her stomach
knot, her desire ratchet up. “I love it. Spread your legs.”

“Why?” Her voice shook. The idea both terrified and aroused her.

“Because I asked you to. If I can’t see your pussy, I can’t look at it and think about
all the dirty, perfect ways I’m going to eat it.”

Bailey literally couldn’t breathe.

“I . . .” The rest of the sentence wouldn’t materialize. She probably looked like
an idiot with her jaw hanging open. And yes, she knew that men did that to women every
day, but not her.

“Is that a yes?” He laved her nipple, his hazel eyes drilling into hers, darkening
and heating as he did.

“Yes.” The sound came out more like a panting breath than a word.

“Good. Soon. First, I want to really make you come and watch your face.” He dipped
his head again and affixed his mouth to the other nipple, sucking rhythmically as
his finger zipped back down her belly and stopped just above her aching sex. “Spread
your legs. I won’t ask again.”

Bailey didn’t hesitate. If she’d never had a real orgasm, then she wanted one. And
she wanted Joaquin to give it to her. If he was going to drown and overwhelm her anyway,
she might as well go big or go home.

He chuckled. “That’s perfect, baby girl. I like you eager for my touch. I want to
make you just as eager to fuck.”

“Do you talk like this to every woman?”

Joaquin cocked his head, clearly considering. “I usually don’t say anything. Somehow
I can’t not talk to you. Not sure what’s up with that. Does it bother you?”

She shook her head. “I love it.”

“I can’t promise it will last once we’re really busy, but . . . yeah. I like rattling
you with a few words. Did you know you blush? Your skin is so fair, you flush rosy
all over. That turns me on.”

Heat crawled up her cheeks, and she laughed. “Like this?”

“Exactly.” He pressed a kiss to her lips, to her jaw, then trailed his lips all around
her nipples. Before she could protest, his fingers dipped into her furrow again, skimmed
directly over her clit.

Bailey gaped and tightened, whimpering when he didn’t stop.

He inserted a finger inside her next, his thumb still strumming the little bead of
nerves above. “Jesus, Bailey . . . You’re tight and sweltering. I can’t wait to get
my cock inside you.”

She didn’t answer, couldn’t even find her voice or her brain. She finally stopped
fighting the inevitable and gave herself over to the explosive pleasure he wrung from
her.

As he added another finger inside her, Joaquin prodded a spot deep, then worked her
clit in smaller circles, teasing more than pressing. Always making her ache and wait.
But the need built and escalated, clawing at her until her head swam. Until her belly
tightened and her thighs trembled. Until she held her breath in desperate need of
his next stroke.

The crescendo of ecstasy just kept soaring. Dizziness assailed her. Desire screamed
inside her just waiting for one more touch . . .

“You’re so fucking sexy.
Now
you’re going to come. Do it . . . for me.”

J
OAQUIN gritted his teeth, watching that sexy flush make Bailey’s entire body turn
rosy. He’d wondered for a seeming eternity how she’d look and sound as she came. He
sucked her nipple back into his mouth and tugged as his fingers prodded the spots
that had her hitching breath becoming gasps. She cried out—a high-pitched, panicked
sound fraught with need and the loss of control. Her eyes went wide, her stare crashing
into his and begging. She went straight to his cock.

Holy fuck, she was going to unravel him.

With her next wail, she clamped around his fingers, her clit turning to stone under
his thumb. She pulsed and bucked, riding the wave of orgasm—the sort she’d never had
in her life. Knowing he was the first man to show her that pleasure, imagining that
he might be the only man to ever give it to her, drove him dangerously to the edge.

“Joaquin . . .” She mewled his name as her back arched.

He didn’t let up, continuing to stimulate her all the way through the crest of the
peak, then letting her down gently until she panted up at him, her blue eyes so full
of wonder. Christ, his chest felt like it was going to burst. His heart filled with
something he couldn’t explain. The rest of him swelled with pride because tonight
he wasn’t just a man, but
the
man she needed.

Where the fuck was all that coming from?

A long gasp for air later, a sweet sigh fell from her lips. A sated blush suffused
her. Her body went limp, her eyes dreamy.

“That was an orgasm.” She wore a loopy little smile.

“It was.” He swallowed, trying to beat back the need to strip off his jeans and fuck
her in the next ten seconds. But logically knowing she needed to recover and being
able to give her the time? Not the same thing—and not easy.

“I want you so damn bad, Bailey.” He gave her clit a gentle prod that made her twist
up and whimper. When she spread her legs a little wider, silently asking him for more,
Joaquin knew he had her again. Now she would be all his.

“Yes . . .” She shifted restlessly, still drunk from the stimulation and the release
of dopamine, hormones, and endorphins.

“Tell me to fuck you.” His growled words came out rough. It was all he could manage.
He probably should have told her that he wanted to make love to her. But where Bailey
was concerned, he couldn’t seem to find patience or restraint. He wasn’t even sure
he’d know his own damn name again until he’d filled her with his cock and found the
oblivion of release.

His choppy breathing only turned more ragged as he waited for her answer. She blinked
and tried to focus. Her lips parted, glossy, swollen, red. Then she thrust her hips
up at him.

Jesus, she was going to kill him if he didn’t get inside her soon.

“Fuck me, Joaquin.”

He should probably warn her that this wasn’t going to be romantic, gentle, or easy.
He should probably take a deep breath and slow way down. But his fingers fell to his
fly and his brain hit autopilot. He ripped at his snap, jerked down his zipper, and
shoved everything aside, as he situated himself between her legs. All he could see
was the nirvana of her pussy. All he could feel was the thick need coursing through
his veins. Nothing had ever been this urgent. No woman had ever made him more rabid
for satisfaction.

Joaquin gripped her hips and fitted himself against her opening. Just the touch of
his sensitive head to her sweltering, wet flesh jetted an electric arc down his spine.
He tossed back his head and groaned, pushing forward. He couldn’t get into her fast
enough, couldn’t fuck her deep enough.

It didn’t take long to notice that she was goddamn tight. He growled as he tried to
pry his way in only to come up short.

“Baby girl,” he whispered against her lips. “Take a deep breath.”

Once she had, he captured her mouth, consuming her in a demanding kiss. As he did,
Joaquin arched forward. Her body gave way to him one agonizing inch at a time. Instantly,
he took the space she ceded to him.

His head slipped inside her sweltering heat, then the sensitive spot underneath. His
eyes rolled into the back of his head. He didn’t want to break the kiss, but a groan
slipped free. Under him, she sucked in a shocked breath, but she spread wider for
him.

The feel of her was everything he’d imagined. Hell, she was more potent than a wet
dream. Joaquin shoved a bit deeper, praying like hell that he wasn’t hurting her.
It had been a while for her, and her last boyfriend had obviously been a fidiot in
bed. But damn it, submerging inside her was proving more difficult than breaking into
Fort Knox.

He nipped at her bottom lip with his teeth. “Breathe again. That’s it. Inhale. Yeah . . .
Now let it out.”

As she did, her body loosened. He thrust the rest of the way inside. Her swollen pussy
enveloped him, a snug clasp that robbed him of equilibrium and the ability to give
a shit about anything but plowing into her and making her come again.

Joaquin withdrew, and the shudder of sensation rattled down his spine. He groaned,
cursed, gripped her tighter. Holy hell, she was going to fucking decimate his self-control.

He cupped her chin and took her lips again, needing to be inside her in every way.
His tongue plunged deep in rhythm with his cock. Under him, she shook and arched,
writhed and flushed again.

He had to make her come once more. God knew how long he was going to last in this
sugary-snug pussy.

Fitting one hand under her ass, he tilted her and slid down a fraction. When he braced
on his knees and shoved up again, the head of his cock dragged over her most sensitive
spot inside. He pressed onto her clit. She mewled, her fists clenching, her legs lifting
to cradle his hips. Fuck, he’d never seen any woman sexier.

He sank deeper, prodding the end of her passage. Her cry of bliss was almost as much
reward as the ecstasy zipping through his body.

“I’m . . .” She couldn’t catch her breath. “I’m going to—”

“Come, baby girl. Yeah. Fuck. Do it.”

Her back twisted and her face contorted. He kept pushing into her, the pace slow and
punishing, scraping her insides with every thrust. She screamed like a wild thing,
arms tugging at her cuffs and rattling the headboard. Those strong muscles in her
thighs squeezed him, as did the clasp of her pussy. Pleasure didn’t just sizzle and
burn. It turned nuclear, boiled his veins, charred his restraint, and wiped away his
ability to give a crap about anything except sharing this orgasm with her. Next time—and
there would be one—he’d go slow and find a way not to pound into her with every ounce
of his strength. He’d love her a lot more gently. Right now?

“Fuck!” His balls felt heavy and tight as tingling sparked. The telltale escalation
of sensation spiked to something stratospheric. Joaquin squeezed her tight, wondering
how he could prevent himself from losing his fucking mind. When he blew, he already
knew it wouldn’t be like any previous climax.

He’d rather forfeit his next fifty years than give up his next thirty seconds with
Bailey.

As soon as the thought hit his brain, along with the tangy-sweet whiff of her pussy
and the womanly scent of something floral and exotic, he lost it.

The pressure inside him gave way to sexual agony. A scream claimed his throat, scrubbing
it raw. He planted even deeper inside her, picking up the pace, thickening, then releasing
with a blast of ecstasy.

In that moment, he realized that he’d lost his head so thoroughly that a condom had
never crossed his mind. That alone stunned him beyond words. He’d never, ever forgotten
to glove up. But that wasn’t all. He’d also given Bailey far more than his seed. Something
in his chest twisted and clawed, yanking at him, beating at him. He looked down at
her, her softly parted lips, the wonder in her blue eyes, the jut of her juicy nipples.

Mine, mine, mine . . .

Yeah, all his. Attachments had never been his thing, and he wondered if this need
to clasp her to him forever would pass.

As he poured himself into her in a shocking, seemingly endless orgasm, he sincerely
doubted it.

*   *   *

BAILEY listened to the sounds of Joaquin in the shower, her head racing. After withdrawing
from her slowly and uncuffing her, he’d left her body a mass of head-to-toe tingles.
She’d climbed out of bed and darted to the shower. Her tears had just started to flow
when he opened the bathroom door and charged into the room.

In fact, he’d ducked into the shower with her uninvited.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, wrapping his arms around her.

Joaquin stood too close. Emotionally, she felt as if he’d scraped her raw. Having
him in her personal space now just slammed her psyche with a frightening vulnerability
all over again.

She pushed back, but he didn’t give an inch.

“Bailey . . .” he warned.

“Nothing.” She didn’t know how else to answer him. “Tonight—the party, the picture,
the sex—it was too much.”

His face softened. “If I came at you too hard, I’m sorry.”

The contrition there told her that he meant it. “It was just intense. I wasn’t expecting
that.”

“I wasn’t either,” he admitted. “I meant to be gentler.”

Bailey shook her head. “That wasn’t what you needed. I don’t think it was what I needed
either. It sure wasn’t anything like my last time.”

He clenched his teeth. “Wipe him from your memory bank.”

Was he jealous? As crazy as that sounded, it was the only conclusion she could come
up with.

“Don’t worry,” she assured him. “He’s the reason my first time was my last.”

“Are you kidding me?”

Joaquin sounded shocked. She supposed that, at her age, he’d already had sex a zillion
times. She just hadn’t seen what the big deal was until him.

Bailey pushed him away. “I can shower alone. You don’t have to help me.”

“I’m sorry. That came out wrong.” He reached for her again, wrapping his hands around
her waist and drawing her closer. “I’m just surprised.”

That stung. She shoved him back. “You’re surprised I don’t sleep around?”

“No. That’s not what I meant. Forget it. You’re rattled and upset. My brain is still
fogged over with pleasure. I’m not leaving you.” He reached for the soap as if the
matter was closed.

She was both annoyed and relieved. Jeez, she sounded contrary. “You’re used to getting
your way.”

“Not always, but I fight when I know I’m right.”

Like this case. Like saving her life. Like not leaving her alone to sort through her
feelings now?

Rubbing the scented bar between his hands, he lathered up, then set the soap back
in the dish. “Turn around.”

“I can wash myself.”

“I know.” He sighed. “Can you just stop being stubborn for a second and let me take
care of you? I drove into you like a Mack truck. I just want to make sure you’re okay
so I can feel a little less guilty.”

When he put it like that . . . She nodded and spun around, presenting him her back
and moving her hair over her shoulder, out of his way.

His hands glided over her back, starting at her shoulder blades, then skimming down
her rib cage. He embraced her waist, enveloping her in his strong grip. Shuffling
closer, he kissed the sensitive spot where her neck and shoulder met. He breathed
over her skin and nipped at her lobe as he eased his soapy palms over her hips, then
pressed against her body.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured.

She shivered as he nipped his way across her neck to settle against her other ear.

“Thank you for trusting me with your body, for putting your life in my hands.”

As his palm worked inward, over her stomach, then began gliding lower, Bailey tensed.
His fingers worked past the swollen lips of her sex to graze her sensitive clit.

She gasped and grabbed his wrist, closing her eyes. “Stop. As soon as I got in the
shower, I realized we forgot a condom.”

“I’m clean,” he swore. “If you want me to prove it, I will.”

“Unless you’re sterile, that’s not the only issue.”

“Whatever happens, we’ll work it out.”

She whirled on him. “Your own family, the people you grew up with, never see you.
Why would you bother with some girl stupid enough to let you kidnap her and knock
her up? You wouldn’t. I bet that if I told you I was pregnant tomorrow, you’d run
in horror. I’ll take half the blame for this mistake, but do me a favor. Don’t touch
me anymore.”

Because the thought of getting close to Joaquin—maybe falling in love with him—only
to have him bail on her was more than she could take.

Bailey pushed her way past him, heading for the shower door. He grabbed her arm. “That’s
not going to happen. The lack of a condom tonight was my mistake. I take responsibility
entirely. If you get preg—”

“Stop it. Just . . . don’t. You took my whole life from me and you can’t respect my
one wish, to leave me alone?”

Joaquin cocked his head, looking dark and sure of himself. “If I thought staying away
from you would solve anything or make you happier, I’d give it one hell of a try.
But in your head, everyone important in your life has left you, so I don’t think you
want me to repeat the pattern, no matter how much you protest otherwise.”

Bailey couldn’t look at him. Damn him for seeing through her again and being so right.
She trembled, on the verge of tears once more. She hated the way he’d crawled under
her skin.

She jerked from his grip. “Can you at least give me five minutes to myself?”

“Five,” he growled. “Don’t leave the room or get into trouble. And don’t think I don’t
give a shit. I’ve been fighting for you since I laid eyes on you. I won’t stop.”

She grabbed a towel and left the bathroom then. After throwing on the cotton nightie
Callie had brought her, Bailey crawled between the sheets. She lay staring at the
wall, wondering what the hell had happened tonight. Joaquin had reached her as a woman
on every level. She’d opened herself to him—and she didn’t know how to stop. Worse,
by the time she’d sorted through the tangle of her thoughts, her five minutes was
up.