Incidental Contact (Those Devilish De Marco Men) (18 page)

“Hey,” he whispered. “Snow’s piling up outside.” She blinked. He held his breath. Not every woman liked coming awake under a man. Slowly, her lips curved into a smile.

“Really?” She turned toward the window, leaving the opposite ear open to his assault. He dragged his tongue down the outer curve. “Oh, God, that makes me crazy.”

He’d already figured that out. Eric pressed his advantage, moving to her earlobe. She wore no earrings, so there was nothing to stop him from sucking the nub into his mouth. She began to squirm. Her fingers tightened on his. Before long, she gripped his waist with her knees.

Her pajama top had large buttonholes, making it easy for him to tug the buttons loose with his teeth. Her nipples were light-colored and the small tips were already peaking. Pressing kisses between her mounds, he worked his way to one rigid point. She moaned when he sucked her nipple into his mouth and teased the hard nub with his tongue. She began to fight him for control of her hands, but he held tight and turned his attention to her other breast.

His jeans prevented him from feeling whether or not she was getting wet, but heat from her sex soon penetrated the fabric. While he licked, suckled, and teased her, he began thinking about her taste. Disengaging their hands, he slid his palms down the sides of her rib cage.

Still nothing from his fucking johnson . He had a warm, willing woman under him. He should be halfway hard, just from that knowledge.
What. The. Fuck?

Stress. Has to be. Just keep tossing up shots
.

Raising his upper body, he tugged the elastic around her waist. She lifted her hips so he could pull the flannel down. Eric scooted backward.

“No. Please.”

He raised his head, staring at her in surprise. “No? Why not?”

Was she blushing? So cute.

“Isn’t that... are you sure?” she asked, wide-eyed.

“Well, yeah. I’m damn sure I wanna taste you.” He winked, but felt the tension in her thighs. “Don’t you enjoy this?”

“I-I don’t know,” she cried. “I don’t know if I like it or not. I’ve never done it.”

I need to kick Drew in the face again.
No wonder she felt unsexy, if he never took the time to love on her like a woman deserved. “Then let’s find out.” Smiling, he waggled his brows. “If you don’t end up feeling like the sexiest woman on the planet, I’ll give you a full refund
and
spot you two points in a sponge ball rematch.”

Her laugh was low. She stared into his eyes for a long time before saying, “Okay.”

Kneeling between her thighs, he pulled the pants off, dropping them on the floor. He started with her adorable toes. Every time his lips brushed one, she arched. Sliding his tongue across her instep made her giggle. There was a ticklish spot behind her ankle bone. She shrieked when he dragged his tongue along the fold at the back of her knee. The skin on her thighs turned to gooseflesh when he kissed his way up the insides.

Leaning down, he brushed his lips across the thatch over her mound. One of them might as well go crazy from pleasure.

* * * *

A
my felt her private hairs catch in his goatee, sending tiny vibrations into her channel, like an early-warning system for pleasure. Her channel throbbed and she held her breath. Every place he’d kissed, from her neck to her smallest toe, tingled. Her nipples throbbed, begging for his touch. His breath made her aware she’d grown wet.

He pulled her folds open with his thumbs. Why did he stare? The intent look made her clench those muscles. He chose that moment to smile.

She closed her eyes. Cut off from everything except the flow of warm breath over her folds, the first touch of his tongue on her clit made her whimper. The wet, subtle sensation was foreign to her and utterly delicious—like the jet of water, but different. Better. He slid his tongue between her folds, treating both sides of her slit to a slow, thorough inquisition. The warm point explored her opening, circling... circling... circling... until she thought she might have to beg the silver-tongued devil for more.

She was reveling in the softness of his dark waves before she even realized she’d buried her fingers in his hair. Tugging didn’t make him move any faster. No, he eased his tongue inside her so slowly, she cried out in frustration. The sensation felt strange, wonderful. Too slow. She tried to squirm away. She tried to move closer. He gripped her hips, making it impossible for her to do anything to drive his tongue in deeper. All she could do was fall into the unfamiliar space where her body wasn’t under her control.

He entered her, then withdrew, taking a gentle nip of her clit. He slid his tongue inside her again and stiffened the muscle, thrusting in and out in a way that made her press her thighs against the sides of his face. He made a groaning sound and those vibrations echoed inside her, making her ache.

She forgot about feeling embarrassed. All she could think about was that soft touch and how good it felt.

Just before she went insane from need, he loosened a hand. Anticipation spiraled inside her until she felt one large finger slide into her opening. He moved his tongue to her clit. His soft strikes to the aching point contrasted vividly with the solid thickness of his finger.

He rose to his knees, pulling her legs into the air with him. Her weight now rested on her shoulders, her feet dangled at his back—and she could see his eyes. He raised his head. “Play with your nipples. Go on, touch yourself.”

The delicious strokes inside her ceased. He lifted his brows.

She might refuse another man, but she wanted to do whatever put that look on his face. She covered her breasts with her hands. He nodded. She brushed her thumbs over the taut nubs. It felt good, so good, when he lowered his mouth to her slit again, this time lapping at her clit with faster strokes. The pounding sensation inside her tightened. His thrusts built into a demanding rhythm. Her strokes across her nipples, combined with his licks and the insistent force of his fingers, threw her over with a cry.

He lowered her legs from his shoulders and stretched out alongside her. She managed to turn on her side, thinking they’d cuddle, but he dragged her leg over his hip and clamped his upper arm across her thigh. His hand cupped her butt in a brief massage, then two of his fingers were inside her. She welcomed the friction to soothe the strong contractions in her channel.

His mouth was on her nipple, pulling, sucking, nipping, and best of all, his tongue strummed the rigid point. His fingers thrust hard and deep. Each jolting entry forced the base of his hand against her swollen clit. Every time that happened, sparks detonated inside her and she reeled closer to oblivion. Soon, she was coming again, but he didn’t stop. Powerful contractions wracked her body in waves. One orgasm faded into the next and the next. Her clit felt so sensitive and her pussy ached with need.

She blurted, “Please, Eric.” He had to know what she needed.

Instead, he rolled her to her back. His ferocious growl made her open her eyes. He pulled her clenched thighs apart and forced them back until her knees pressed against her breasts. He lowered his head, but this time, the licks were so gentle, she had to strain to feel the soft touch. Her clit was rigid and throbbing. Just his harsh breaths, flowing over the taut point, made her shudder.

He never varied those feathery strokes, stroking her sensitive nub on and on until she was catapulted into a soft, undulating orgasm unlike any she’d ever experienced. The sensation seemed endless, and she knew she was screaming but couldn’t stop. The pressure in her core built like a tidal wave, far out of proportion to the tiny strikes his tongue made against her clit. Bright colors exploded behind her eyelids. Every radiant spark seemed to fall inside her, smoldering and singeing her channel with pleasure.

He finally relented. She couldn’t open her eyes, but felt the soft kiss he placed on her knee. His voice seemed to come from a long distance. “You need sleep.”

I need you. Just let me sleep one minute.
When she finally managed to pry her eyelids open, she was alone. She stared out the window, watching the snowflakes drift past the window.

One flake is a fluffy bit of crystallized water. A mountain of snowflakes can take down houses.
She kept forgetting she was just one snowflake to him, but Eric was becoming her avalanche.

.

E
ric threw his arm over his eyes and yelled, “Gimme a damn minute!”

The banging on his front door didn’t relent. He sat up and flung back the covers with a growl. The pounding kept up while he shoved a leg into a pair of sweats. He could hear Amy’s soft murmur overhead, between thumps on the door.

By the time he staggered to the kitchen, his front door was already open. Cold air rushed in, making him shiver. A glance at the stove showed the fire had burned out.
Dammit, I didn’t stoke the fire or lock the front door?
The problem with his dick was making him stupid.

Cynda stepped into the cabin, with Dan at her back. Snow was scattered in her dark braids. Her smile was so bright, Eric had to smile back, even while rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” she teased. “Still waitin’ for your fairy tale princess to come kiss you awake?”

Cynda held a large tray, covered with a towel. “Waitin’ for you to come kiss me,” he retorted, grinning at the scowl that comment put on his brother’s face. Dan had a jealous streak about a mile wide when it came to Cynda. Eric enjoyed provoking it. It was a rare feeling to have the upper hand on Dan.

Dan paused in the doorway, eying the wheelchair with raised brows.

“Smells fantastic. What did I do to deserve this?”  While giving Cynda an affectionate kiss on the cheek, Eric heard an unexpected voice.

“Oh, I got this. Go on now, Cynda. You can kiss on Daniel.”

“Grams!” Eric laughed. Cynda’s grandmother stepped from behind Dan. For the first time since he’d met Coralinne Avery, no white film clouded her eyes. “Look at you, gorgeous.” Eric let Cynda go and held out his arms to the elderly woman. The large glasses Grams wore reminded him of safety goggles. He guessed the eye doctor had given them to her to protect her eyes after her surgery.

She shook her head. Her wrinkles bracketed a wide smile. “No, let me look at you. Lord have mercy, Cynda, you never told me these boys were so pretty. I can’t wait to lay eyes on Colton.”

“I’m way cuter than Colton.” He wrapped his arms around Miss Coralinne. She returned his hug with a hard one, and stood on tiptoe to kiss him on the cheek. “Mmm, mmm, mmm.” He got one smack for each “mmm.”

“Beats what she said to me last night.” Eric glanced up in time to see Dan roll his eyes.

“What was that?” Eric could see mischief brimming in the older woman’s eyes, even through the plastic lenses.

“I walk through the back door, and she says—real snippy-like, “Cynda, we need to talk. You never told me your young man was white.”

“You should’ve seen Daniel’s face.” Cynda laughed. “She’d been planning that for days.”

“That’s my girl. Give him hell.” Eric kissed Coralinne’s cheek. “Dan needs to be kept off-balance, so he doesn’t turn into a complete tyrant. But what are you doing out runnin’ around? You just had surgery.”

“Pshaw. I’m right as rain now that those hateful cataracts are gone. Gonna spend the day with Lila. Can’t wait to see her face, and my baby Jonah’s, too.”

“Cynda and Miss Coralinne are worried you might starve,” Dan informed him, “since we know you’ve completely given up buying groceries.” He plunked two large sacks on the bar. “Cyn’s been up for hours, making a pot roast for you. Here’s bread, peanut butter, cereal, popcorn, and anything else from the pantry Cynda could stuff in these bags.” Dan pushed past Eric to shove a gallon of milk into his refrigerator.

Why buy groceries? Either Cynda or Lila set a plate for him most of the time.

Coralinne let him go, turning to look around the cabin. Whipping the towel off the tray, Eric smacked his lips approvingly at the assortment of dishes. In permanent marker on the foil, Cynda’s girlish printing spelled out how long he was to warm each item, and the oven temperature needed.

“Thank you, gorgeous.” Eric leaned over to buss Cynda’s cheek again. “If Dan doesn’t treat you right, you know you always got a home right here.” He waggled his brows, delighted by her laughter, but concerned about what Dan might say. His brother’s truck was parked behind Amy’s car. He glanced at his watch. Six a.m.

“Daniel treats me just fine.” Cynda regained his attention by sticking out a foot. “See? New shoes.”

Eric dutifully admired her half-boots. It seemed Dan took Cynda to buy a new pair of shoes every week. “And this.” Cynda raised her hand.

The sudden flare of light made Eric squint. The large stone on Cynda’s ring finger was square, but the sides bowed, as if unable to contain all the rainbows blinding him. The glittering diamond was surrounded by small sections of pierced white metal, alternating with small purple stones. “Wow, that’s beautiful.” He looked at his brother. “It looks like the one Grandmother Chapman had, but hers had blue stones, remember? Did you have this made?”

Dan shook his head. “No. That
is
Grandmother Chapman’s ring, believe it or not.”

“How the hell did you end up with it?” Eric demanded. Phil’s family had turned Livia Chapman’s estate auction into a dick-measuring contest, and prices had gone stupid-high, especially on anything of real value.

“I found it. Grams is making Lila a chenille baby quilt, so I was looking for pieces she could cut.” Cynda explained.

Eric had no idea what chenille might be, but he knew why Dan was scowling. His brother’s gaze was trained out the kitchen window, on Amy’s snow-covered car.

“This and a few other rings were tied in an old hankie, stuffed in the pocket of a chenille housecoat in a chifferobe in the attic.” Cynda wiggled her fingers. Streaks of color danced off the cabinets. “The blue stones were scratched and dull because they were paste, the jeweler said. Dan had them substitute purple sapphires and resize it for me. She sure had tiny fingers.”