Johnson Family 2: Perfect (14 page)

He hooked his fingers in the waistband of her panties and worked them lower, slowly. His mouth followed the same path. It brushed over the hair between her legs, and she gasped at the fleeting pleasure. His tongue trailed along her inner thigh until he’d dragged the silky material down her feet, where he nibbled on her ankles and kissed her soles.

It was as if he wanted to shower affection on every single part of her body, and she welcomed the thoroughness, urging him on with husky, appreciative noises.

The rest of their clothes came off even faster. His pajama bottom and her nightgown were tossed aside to form a pile on the floor.

His fingertips skimmed the curls at the juncture of her thighs. She jerked, her nerves raw and sensitive, her every thought concentrated on that one spot. Air hissed through his teeth when he encountered the wetness there, and she closed her eyes to savor his touch. He parted the tender flesh between her legs and slid his digits through the moisture. She squirmed beneath his probing touch and grabbed at his hand, silently begging for relief. She wanted more, and he must have understood. First one, then two fingers entered the wet opening. She gloried in the intimate exploration, lifting into the thrusting motion.

“Stop playing with me,” she panted.

His lips curled into a smile against her skin, and smug laughter tickled the side of her neck. Daniella kissed his jaw and ran her hands over his sculpted chest and the firm muscles of his arms. He had an incredible physique, and she couldn’t get enough of touching him.

“Lower,” he directed. “I want to feel your hands on me.”

Daniella closed her hand around his impressive length. He was firm and hot in her palm. She started with a feather-light touch, grazing the smooth, hard skin of his shaft.

“Harder,” he muttered, pushing with vigor against her fingers.

She tightened her clasp and stroked him until his breathing fractured and his belly trembled.

“Just like that,” he said, his voice sounding strained and husky. His hips slid back and forth in a counter motion, while his lips dipped to an engorged nipple and pulled it into his mouth. He concentrated his attention there for some time, swirling the tip of his tongue around it, sending a direct message to her clit.

She tightened her grasp even more and pulled, tugged, until he could no longer take the contact and wrenched her hand free. “Keep this up, and you’ll make me unload all over your pretty breasts.”

“Do it,” she whispered. She’d let him come on her breasts and ass before. She couldn’t imagine allowing another man such liberties. Only Cyrus. The act added a raw, dirty element to sex, one she’d surprisingly enjoyed.

“You’re a naughty girl,” Cyrus said with a wicked smile. He took each of her hands and stretched her arms above her head. “But that’s not how I want you tonight. This is how I want you.”

He positioned his hips between her legs and she opened, eager and ready to receive him. No other sensation on earth was as pleasurable as Cyrus’s virile body taking possession of hers. She closed her eyes tight, anticipating the flood of sensation.

He breeched the entrance to her body, easing in slowly so she could get used to him again. With a tremulous whimper, she lifted her pelvis to his, but he was going so slow. He rolled his hips in a merciless grind, his pelvis stroking her clit and making her wetter, as if her body wept from the sheer pleasure of it.

“Open for me,” he instructed. “Open wide for your man.” His movements remained slow and sure, driving her out of her mind with the steady, sexy rhythm. She did as he asked, and he leaned down to speak into her ear. “Good girl. Just like that.”

The words of praise shot heat straight to her loins, sending her arousal into the stratosphere. She lifted her hips higher, taking all his length, moaning in satisfaction as his fullness rubbed against her sensitive walls.

She whispered his name, then cried it, over and over.

“That’s it. Say my name,” he panted. “Scream it.” His hands tightened on her wrists and his thrusts became more aggressive. “You know how I love that shit.” His knees opened to spread her wider. Their passion mounted, the intensity creating a tight coil in her stomach. “You know what you do to me, don’t you, Dani? Dani…Dani…”

The intensity of their lovemaking never disappointed. She wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him further into her silken heat. She pumped her hips with more urgency, and he rocked forward with a faster tempo, intensifying the pulse between her thighs. He went deep, his breaths nothing but shallow gasps.

He was relentless now he had her where he wanted her. With nothing to hold onto, her hands tightened into tense fists, her body rocking beneath his as he alternated between shallow and deep thrusts.

A deep climax shot from her core and burst free. She tightened and arched beneath him, her breath coming in short painful explosions as she was dragged through a cloud of ecstasy that left her momentarily dazed. Intense pleasure tightened her throat. As the remnants of the orgasm wrung the last bit of energy from her body, Cyrus continued to pump his hips. Gasping, his chest heaving, his movements became even more frenzied. Then he thrust once, twice, three times. He froze on the last as he discharged inside of her, a strangled noise deep in his larynx.

“Dani.” He always said her name at the end, a helpless breath of a sound that told her loud and clear how deeply their lovemaking affected him.

She slipped her wrists from his weakened hands, and with his warm breath against her collarbone, she slid her hand up and down his damp back. Tight muscles reacted to her touch, and a tremor ran through him before he rolled onto his side and gathered her close.

Vaguely, she heard him murmur something, but she was too dazed, too spent to comprehend. Her eyes drifted close, forcing her to rest. She didn’t have a choice, really. She knew her husband. Since he hadn’t had sex in three years, he would do his damndest to make up for it tonight.

And she had every intention of keeping up with him.

Chapter Fifteen

Daniella awoke to a dark room and soft, plush sheets and covers.

She’d had sex with her husband
. Had spent all night doing it, in fact, and loved every minute. Her nerve endings were raw and her muscles ached somewhat, but she smiled from the memories.

She rolled over in the huge bed and stared at the empty space beside her. She stretched her arm and the sheets felt cool, which meant Cyrus had been gone for awhile. He was probably on his weekend run, per usual.

She rolled into the spot he’d vacated and buried her face in the pillow. The scent of him remained there, and she reveled in it, the same as she had last night. She could stay there all day, indulging in his manly aroma. Instead, she slipped naked from the bed and went into her bathroom to put on a lightweight robe. She brushed her teeth and then went downstairs.

It was Sunday, which meant Ms. Ernestine was off. Daniella didn’t bother making coffee because Cyrus wouldn’t drink any. He had an aversion to anything remotely like a drug. She poured herself a glass of orange juice and searched the cabinets and refrigerator for items to make breakfast.

All of the canned and jarred goods in the cabinet had the label facing outward, and like items were grouped together. Another one of Cyrus’s quirks. Thanks to Ms. Ernestine, he hadn’t driven her crazy with his OCD. The housekeeper made sure the kitchen was organized in the exact order he wanted.

It wasn’t long before Cyrus came in from his run, sweating and breathing heavily. His shorts showed off his tight, muscular calves from years of running. Morning stubble shadowed his jaw and gave him a raw, sexy look.

“Good morning,” he said, watching her, as if he couldn’t believe she was actually there, making breakfast.

“Good morning.” She waited for him to say something else, perhaps mention last night and gloat about the fact that she’d initiated sex—in her sleep, no less. Subconscious or not, she’d wanted him and made the first move.

But he didn’t gloat. He came close and with a hand at her waist, pulled her in for a kiss. She didn’t pull away, even though he was sweaty and musty. The kiss was quick and more of a greeting by the way their mouths quickly touched before he withdrew.

He swiped sweat from his face with a forearm and then pulled a bottled water from the refrigerator. She could feel his eyes on her while he drank it.

She broke an egg into a glass bowl.

“What’s for breakfast?” he asked.

“Omelets.” She cracked another egg.

“While I was running, I had a thought,” he said. “Ivy thinks I should take a vacation. My whole family does, actually.” Knowing him, he probably should. He took his role as head of the family and the company very seriously and was the kind of person who thought if he wanted something done right, he had to do it himself. Which meant he seldom took time off.

“Are you planning to take one?” Daniella asked.

“I think we should both take one,” he replied. “We should go back to Spain.”

She paused. They’d gone there for their honeymoon, but the trip had been cut short because of business. She’d loved the location and often thought about it. “Back to Costa del Sol?” she asked hopefully.

“That’s what I was thinking. Can you take the time off?”

“Yes, but can you?”

“I have a few business trips to take first, but I’ll be able to in a few weeks.”

“How long will we be able to stay?” She was getting excited.

“How long do you want to stay?”

“A week would be nice.” If not, there was no point in going. By the time they recovered from jetlag, it would be time to return.

“Then we’ll stay a week.”

She wanted him to promise he wouldn’t let business interfere, but she didn’t feel comfortable saying it. With his responsibilities, it would be hard for him to completely shut out business.

“Short of someone dying, we won’t cut our trip short,” he promised. He must have read her mind.

Grateful, she smiled at him, and he smiled back. Then his face slowly sobered. “I’d do anything for you. You know that, don’t you?”

She didn’t really know, but she was starting to think he wasn’t as selfish as she’d always thought. That maybe he’d changed a little in the past three years. She was saved from answering when he reached up into the cabinet and pulled down a small jar of jalapenos.

“I like these in my omelets,” he said.

“Then I’ll add them,” Daniella said. “By the way,” she added, when he was about to walk off. “You know that’s weird, don’t you?”

“Jalapenos in eggs?” he asked. “That’s not so weird.”

She opened the door of one of the cabinets and pointed out the precise organization of the shelves. “This is not normal. It’s kind of Sleeping-With-the-Enemy-ish.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “You’ve mentioned it before. And by the way, the man in that movie was a crazy wife abuser,” he pointed out.

As difficult as he was, Cyrus had not been like the man in the movie, whose physical and emotional abuse sent his wife running. “True.” Daniella shoved a jar of olives behind a jar of artichokes and turned several of the bottles backward.

“Don’t do that.” Cyrus reached up to the shelf.

Daniella knocked away his hand. “Look at you. You can’t handle it, can you?” She shouldn’t tease him. She knew how much it drove him crazy, but she couldn’t help it. After living together for a couple of weeks and the intimacy they’d shared last night, she was starting to feel relaxed around him, and her playfulness was a direct result.

Cyrus straightened the jars so they all lined up again. “There’s a reason for this order.”

“And what’s that?”

“You know I don’t like chaos.”

“And you like to control everything,” she supplied.

“If things go the way they should, it saves time,” he said, ignoring her remark. “It’s called efficiency.”

“It’s called OCD,” Daniella corrected. She started whisking the eggs but paused when he started tidying up. “What are you doing?”

“Just cleaning up a bit.”

“I bet you don’t tidy up when Ms. Ernestine is in the kitchen.” She smacked his hand with the spatula. “Out.”

“That’s assault.”

“I said out. Don’t come back until I call you for breakfast.” She held up the spatula, silently threatening to hit him again.

Cyrus put his hands up, lines of amusement crossing his face. “All right, I’m going up to take a shower.”

But instead of leaving, he caught her wrist with the spatula and pulled her close. Goodness, he was fast.

“You stink,” she murmured, making no move to get away.

“I thought women liked it when their man was sweaty from working out or playing sports,” he said, looking down at her from lowered lids.

“Lies,” Daniella said.

That didn’t stop him from pulling her in and sucking on her neck. Her knees weakened and she turned her head to rub her cheek against the rough stubble on his jaw. He kissed her ear and chin, and finally her mouth. She sighed with pleasure. She loved his kisses. She’d been deprived of them for so long she’d actually forgotten how good they were, how delicious he tasted, and how enjoyable the fit of his mouth over hers.