Let It Snow... (5 page)

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“On how things unfold once I get back home. If all goes as I hope, I should be coming back to America to visit quite often.”

She’d like that. A lot.

Realizing the ice cream was probably soft enough to scoop, she went over to the other counter. Philip watched her as she cut two healthy pieces from the pan of brownies, put them into bowls, then plopped heaping spoonfuls of ice cream on top. When she headed over to get the chocolate sauce, however, he joined her.

“This I want to do,” he murmured.

“You really are a chocolate fiend.”

“Proudly.”

“Most guys think chocolate addiction is a chick thing.”

“Do you think I’m like most guys?”

Watching him drizzle chocolate over the ice cream, his hand strong and steady, muscles flexing in his forearm, she shook her head. “No. I don’t think you’re like anyone I’ve ever met.”

Realizing she’d grown too serious, she helped herself to half as much hot fudge as he’d taken, then carried her bowl back to the counter. Philip joined her, and for the next few minutes said nothing. He savored every drop of warm chocolate, creamy ice cream and soft brownie. She’d swear the man’s expression was orgasmic, and he moaned pleasurably as he ate.

Claire had never imagined it would be a complete turn-on to watch a man eat dessert. But the way he so carefully and thoroughly tasted everything, closing his eyes and letting the cool cream glide down his throat, or licking the last bit of chocolate off his spoon, soon had her shifting on her seat. Her pulse was throbbing in her veins, and it had nothing to do with sugar, everything to do with spice.

Philip Smith was just so damned hot and exotic, so different from any man she’d known before. He held nothing back—not his appreciation for her, not his enjoyment of his food, not his delight in the crowds and the noise and the frenzy of the city. He was...sensual. That was it. The man was entirely in tune with his senses, and she found that incredibly sexy.

Claire wasn’t quite sure what was happening to her. Sure, she’d had relationships before, mostly brief, but one long-term one that had lasted through two years of college. But she’d never felt so totally in tune with another person’s sensual responses as she did right now, with him.

“You have chocolate on your mouth,” he said.

“Do I?” She licked her lips.

“No,” he told her, leaning across the counter until his face was inches from hers. “It’s here.”

He didn’t wipe it off with his hand or a napkin. Instead, he moved his mouth to the corner of hers and kissed her, his tongue flicking out to sample the smudge she’d left behind.

“Mmm,” he murmured as their lips brushed. “You taste good.”

She knew it wasn’t smart, knew it was too soon and that she’d only recently met him. But common sense seemed to have departed for the night. So without a word, she reached up and put her arms around his neck, parting her lips and inviting him to deepen his kiss.

He did, his cold, sweet tongue tangling with hers in slow, hungry thrusts. He tasted so delicious, made the chocolate more rich, the ice cream more sweet, the brownie more decadent. Claire tilted her head, wanting their mouths locked more tightly together, and the kiss deepened, grew hotter, wetter.

Before she realized what was happening, Philip had gotten up, reached over and pulled her to her feet. He dropped his hands to her waist and lifted her onto the counter before him, her legs dangling over the edge.

Claire didn’t resist; she was putty in his hands. He moved her easily, as if she weighed nothing, and his strength boggled her mind.

He pulled her close to his big, hard body, until she was sitting directly in front of him. Dropping his hands onto her parted thighs, he stepped between them and proceeded to kiss her again.

The hunger erupted. She felt his heat, his breadth, his strength, pressed against her, and desperately wanted to feel all those things without the barrier of clothing. The kiss was devouring, demanding. He lifted both hands and sank them into her hair, cupping her head, keeping her where he wanted her.

It was a long kiss. “You taste better than the chocolate,” he said when it ended. His voice was thick with desire.

Feeling drugged, intoxicated, she replied, “So do you.”

Without saying another word, Philip reached for his bowl and swiped his finger through the melted chocolate and ice cream. He traced his fingertip down the side of her neck, from just below her ear to the hollow of her throat.

“Ooh, cold,” she said, knowing she wouldn’t be for long.

“I’ll warm you,” he promised as he bent down and kissed her neck. And he did, sparking a flame as he licked away the chocolate and the creaminess, sampling her skin, tasting her all the way down. He devoured her with the same care and deliberation he’d used on his dessert, and all she could think was how very much she wanted him to do it again.

“Hmm, my bowl’s wiped clean,” he muttered, sounding disappointed. He cast a look across the kitchen at the stove. The pot of hot fudge was still there, off the heat, probably cool and congealing by now. Perfect for playing with. “Don’t move.”

Claire held her breath, watching as he jogged over to get the pot, tested it with his fingertip, then carried it back. His steps slowed as he returned, his gaze fixed on her face, his eyes darkening with passion.

She knew where this was going. Knew what he wanted. Knew what he intended to do. And she wanted it, too. All of it.

He stopped a few feet away, lifting a brow in question.

She reached up and brushed the tips of her fingers over the hollow of her throat, then trailed them downward to the deep V-neck of her sweater.

That was all the assent he required. Philip’s smile was sultry, his movements deliberate and seductive as he moved in front of her. He put the pot down beside her, then swirled his finger in the thickening mass of slick, dark sweetness.

This time, the line of chocolate he drew went from her throat all the way down to the curves of her breasts, traveling the same path her fingers had.

“Oh.” She sighed, incredibly aroused by just that touch, knowing his hands would soon be replaced by his mouth.

He moved to her throat, growling as he licked the chocolate from her skin, working his way down...down...until his face was pressed into her cleavage. She was trembling now, her hands clenching his shoulders as she anticipated so much more.

She didn’t even pretend to resist when he reached for the bottom hem of her sweater and drew it up and off. Sitting there in only her pants and a lacy, sexy red bra she’d donned just in case she might have reason to take her sweater off tonight, she watched him study her. Watched his dark eyes grow nearly black and his mouth open to release an unsteady breath.

Desire seemed to drip from the man, a physical, tangible thing. And all directed at her.

“I like this.” He ran a knuckle over her bra strap.

“You’ll like it even more when it’s where it belongs.”

“Where does it belong?”

“On the floor.”

He licked his lips, reached for the front clasp of her bra and flicked it with his thumb and forefinger. The fabric fell apart, her full, aching breasts nearly revealed to his covetous stare. She saw the way his jaw clenched, and knew he very much liked what he saw. But instead of pulling the bra the rest of the way off, he reached for the hot fudge again.

Trembles turned to quivers. This time, he used two fingers to scoop up a heaping helping of the chocolate. Claire held her breath, not sure where he’d move them, wondering if he intended to ice her body like a cake and devour her completely.

She’d be okay with that. This man could call her his own personal devil’s food for as long as he liked.

He finally returned his hand to the moist spot between her breasts where he’d last had his mouth. He slowly drew a swirling infinity sign, his talented fingers edging the bra out of the way as he painted a trail of warm chocolate over each breast, around each areola, leaving just the puckered tips uncovered.

“Those are sweet enough. They don’t need any topping,” he murmured, gazing at her distended nipples.

She shifted on the countertop, her sex throbbing and wet. She was so hot for him it was painful to sit on the hard surface.

He began to lick away the trail he’d created. Claire curled her fingers in his hair, needing to keep herself steady as he sampled her skin. The brush of his sandpapery cheek against the side of her breast made her groan. When his lips came close to an uncovered nipple, she wanted to beg. But he moved past, following the chocolate, leaving her nipples pouty, full, untasted.

“Oh, God, please,” she whimpered.

He didn’t relent, licking every inch of chocolate off her breasts before making the slightest move toward the most sensitive tips. She was ready to weep by the time he finally gazed hungrily at one pouty nipple. And she cried out when, without warning, he planted his mouth there, covered it and sucked deeply.

“Yes!” she groaned.

As if knowing how aroused she was, and how badly she needed his attention, he lifted his hand to her other breast. He squeezed lightly, stroking the nipple between his strong fingers, then tweaked it, toyed with it, all while suckling her. Waves of heat plummeted through her core and she had to wriggle on the countertop. The seam of her tight cords was pressed against her clit, which was swollen, a bundle of nerves.

“Lie back,” he ordered, his lips still against her breast.

She sucked in a breath, unsure for a moment. This man wanted her to lay herself out like a feast? He desired her that much?

“Please, Claire.”

“I do have a bedroom.”

“That’ll take too long. Let me adore you, here and now.”

Adore her? The man’s voice was velvety and assured, his expression hungry and passionate. He wanted her to
let
him adore her, when, by rights, she should be on her knees begging him not to stop.

As if stopping was in the realm of possibility.

Maybe for the sensible Claire, the one who always took care of everyone else, it would be. But that part of her had disappeared tonight. She had never imagined she would like strong, overprotective men. But somewhere between Philip insisting that he take her out, admitting he’d been watching her, tossing that obnoxious barker out of her path and urging her to
let
him, Claire had realized she wanted nothing more than to give over control to someone else for a change. Maybe not for long—perhaps just for tonight—but she was ready to let go, to be taken care of.

To be adored.

5

M
ELTING
LIKE
THE
chocolate, all reservations gone, Claire shimmied to the middle of the countertop, kicking her shoes to the floor. As instructed, she lowered herself on her back, moving slowly. Philip helped her, stroking her tenderly, kissing his way down her middle.

“Trust me,” he urged, as if thinking she might still have reservations about putting herself so completely at his mercy.

“I do,” she admitted. She hadn’t met him very long ago, but already knew him a strong, sexy, honorable, funny, intelligent man. He wouldn’t hurt her. Of that she had no doubt.

Once she was comfortable, he scooped up more chocolate and drew a line straight down her midriff, letting a few drops fall into her belly button. Then he licked it all away, kissing her, nibbling her sensitive skin, tenderly exploring her navel.

She didn’t demur when he reached for the waistband of her pants, unbuttoned and unzipped them, and began to draw them down. She lifted her hips, helping free the material, watching the hunger on his face turn to raw lust. He stared avariciously at the hollow just above her pubic bone, at the lacy edge of her red panties. A hungry sigh emerged from his mouth when he uncovered her hips and filled his hands with them, squeezing lightly. Then he continued to pull her pants down, stroking her thighs and calves as he pulled them off.

He stopped and stared at her, lying there in nothing but a skimpy pair of underwear, through which he had to be able to see the tuft of dark curls. He rubbed his hand against his jaw.

“I’ve fantasized about seeing you unclothed.”

“Right back at you,” she admitted.

“That might have to wait. I’m not
prepared
for this.”

Hell. She hadn’t thought of birth control. Claire wasn’t even sure she had any condoms in her apartment. It had been months since she’d had sex. She hadn’t even been living in the building then.

Philip must have seen her disappointment. “I’ll never be caught without what I need again, but for right now, I’ll just have to make it up to you in other ways.”

Oh, goodness. That was a pure, sultry promise in his voice.

“We can make it up to each other,” she purred, reaching for him.

He grabbed her wrists, stopping her. “Me first.”

Lordy, the man was hot when he was being bossy.

“There is much I want to do.”

Right. He had a lot of things to do. Delicious, delightful, sinful, wicked things.

He proceeded to do them. Claire lost all inhibition, didn’t think about the fact that she was spread out like a virgin sacrifice at a banquet of the gods. She was a slave to sensation, unsure where he would smear the next dollop of warm chocolate, holding her breath in anticipation until he licked it clean away.

By the time he got to her groin and breathed hotly through the lacy panties, she was thrusting her hips up, unable to control the demands of her body. He put a hand on her hip, holding her in place while he smoothed more chocolate right over the lace. As he licked it off, the rasp and warmth of his tongue sent her flying out of control. Pulses of pleasure washed through her and she felt her climax build.

“Wait.” His tone demanded obedience. “I’m not finished.”

“Are you kidding me?” she wailed.

“Do not let it happen,” he insisted, looking up at her, his dark eyes intense. “Hold back—you won’t regret it.”

She had never intentionally tried to stop herself from coming, especially since not every lover she’d been with had even been able to bring her to orgasm. But the look in Philip’s eyes swore he wouldn’t let her down, and promised it would be worth the wait.

She closed her eyes and took a few deep, steadying breaths, trying to slow her racing heart, counting each pulse in her throbbing clit. She whimpered when he slid his fingers under the elastic of her panties and slowly drew them down. They hadn’t provided much covering, but once they were gone and she was completely naked, bared before a fully dressed man in a cool room, she shivered.

“No, you’re not cold. You’re burning up.”

He was right. The air might be cool, but she was absolutely on fire, the temperature going up by degrees every second he stared at her with that wanton, hungry look.

He reached for the chocolate. “This can’t taste as good as you do, but it would be a shame to let it go to waste.”

She held her breath. He scooped some up and moved his hand between her thighs. Slick, slippery warmth smoothed over the lips of her sex, and she cooed. “Oh, Philip!”

“Hold on. Wait for it....”

“I’m trying,” she said, wondering how much pleasure a human body could stand. Because this was utterly divine.

His fingers delved deeper, spreading her, stroking her. She chewed her bottom lip, shocked at how good it felt—his strong fingers wrapped in silky warmth, caressing her clit in delicate circles. Taking her higher and higher, but never over the top. And she suddenly realized the pressure she usually felt to hurry up and come had receded. The climax was worth waiting for because this buildup was so incredibly good. He was coaxing her up step by step, rather than pushing her, in a mad race to get to the top.

Finally, he slipped one finger into her, sliding deep, her own body’s juices and the chocolate making his penetration easy.

“Philip, yes,” she cried.

Another finger joined in, stretching her, filling her slowly, then gliding away. She loved the fullness and the heat, the way he found a sensitive spot high inside her and brought it to life. Loved the look on his face and the sound of his whispers and the feel of his warm breath as he bent closer to her sex.

“I want to taste you as you come.”

“Please...”

“Shh,” he told her, moving his lips ever nearer. He didn’t go right to her clit, but started lower, tasting all that chocolate, pulling his fingers away so he could slide his tongue inside her and lap up every bit.

This time there would be no stopping the climax. Claire couldn’t prevent a tiny wail of helpless delight as it barreled toward her. Hearing her, Philip moved up, finally sliding his tongue over her clit in a thorough exploration that set her rocketing to the pinnacle.

She thrust up to meet him, her orgasm setting her free. It was powerful, making her shake, and he moved his fingers back into her tight channel, which spasmed around him while he savored the chocolate and her body’s juices like a man at a feast.

One orgasm stretched into two. She’d no sooner begun to settle back to earth when he sucked again, a little harder, and another ratcheted out of nowhere.

“Oh, my God,” she cried.

She’d never experienced anything like it, never been hit with pleasure after pleasure. He’d been right; holding off, letting her own desires build to the utter peak, made flying off that peak better than it had ever been in her life.

She’d barely begun to breathe normally when Philip kissed his way back up her body, then leaned right over her face. She smelled chocolate and sex on his breath. Wanting to share, she reached up and twined her fingers in his hair, pulling his mouth to hers. They exchanged a long, wicked kiss.

“I’ve never experienced anything like that,” she whispered when they finally drew apart. “Nobody’s ever made me feel...”

“Then the men you’ve known are fools,” he declared.

He was no fool, though. He was bloody close to perfection.

“You...you didn’t mind...”

He barked a laugh. “Are you joking? You taste so good, Claire. So sweet and perfect. I’ve never eaten anything so delicious in my entire life. I could dine on you and nothing else until the day I die, and never be hungry again.”

That sounded all well and good. But she was hungry, too.

He might not be able to make love to her tonight, but damned if she was going to let him leave without her seeing the magnificent body beneath his clothes.

“My turn,” she insisted as she sat up. She wrapped her legs around him before he could back away.

“Claire...”

She pressed a hot, openmouthed kiss to his lips. “I know how far we can go,” she whispered.

And she proceeded to go there. She reached for his long-sleeved shirt and pulled it up, her breath catching in her throat as she beheld the miles of gleaming skin covering a pair of massive shoulders and a powerful chest. He was roped with muscle, beautifully formed. She stroked him with her fingertips, a little amazed, a little stunned. As if driven, she reached out and tangled her fingers in the sparse, wiry black hair on his chest, scratching her nails over his flat nipples, drawing a hiss.

“You are perfect,” she whispered as she ran her hands down, to toy with the trail of hair that led to the waistband of his jeans.

When she reached for his belt buckle, he put his hand over hers. “You don’t have to—”

“Yes, I do.” She stared intently into his eyes, seeing the passion, the need he couldn’t disguise. “I’m desperate to.”

His breaths quickened, but he didn’t try to stop her as she unfastened his jeans. Unable to reach him, or see nearly as much as she wanted to, she got down from the counter to stand before him, letting her naked breasts brush against his broad chest. Her nipples were still sensitive from arousal, from his heated caresses, and she sighed at the rightness of it, hearing his groan of appreciation.

Claire bit her lip as she unzipped his pants, her hand starting to shake as she felt the huge, powerful erection under his fly. Her breath caught when she saw the tip of his cock peeking above the waistband of his boxer briefs.

“Oh, God,” she groaned, shocked at how big, hard and gorgeous he was. She slid her palm over the head, spreading the moisture there, and then reached inside his briefs to wrap as much of her hand around him as she could.

“Ah, Claire, you feel wonderful.”

“You are amazing,” she told him, loving the way he dropped his head back as she stroked him, up, then down, loving the thickness of him in her hand. She was also unhappy that she couldn’t have that thickness in her pulsing, throbbing vagina. But she wasn’t about to send him back upstairs unsatisfied.

“I’m still hungry,” she said, reaching for the chocolate sauce.

“You owe me nothing.”

“This isn’t about owing,” she informed him as she slowly lowered herself to her knees, setting the pot on the floor beside her. “It’s simply about wanting to taste your cock.”

He thrust his hands in her hair, his hips jerking reflexively as if her words had utterly inflamed him. Well, good. That had been the point. Plus they’d been true.

She tugged his pants and boxer briefs down, then had to just kneel in front of him for a moment, staring at the massive, proud erection rising from a dark thatch beneath. She scraped her fingernails along his powerful thighs, trying to remember to breathe, wondering if she’d ever be able to take him into her body, much less in her mouth.

She was certainly going to give it her best shot.

She leaned over and flicked her tongue against the base of his shaft, hearing his groan of pleasure. Then she did it again, this time swirling the tip over his vulnerable sac before sliding it up the length of him.

His hands twisted and tangled in her hair, though he didn’t pull her or hurt her in any way. He seemed to like how it felt, because he lifted a few long strands and rubbed them on his bare stomach.

Claire barely noticed, focused only on kissing her way up the length of him. When she finally got to the top, she flicked her tongue out to taste the fluid leaking from him, drawing another groan from his chest.

The chocolate could wait. For now, she just wanted to taste man. She opened her mouth as far as she could and sucked him in.

“Gods, Claire, that feels amazing.”

She didn’t respond, focused only on laving the engorged head. She sucked him hard while she wrapped her hand around the breadth of him and stroked, up and down. She took him as deep as she could, working him with her hands, building his frenzy.

Eventually, wanting to experience what he had, by mixing decadent food with decadent pleasure, she reached for the chocolate sauce and scooped up a handful. She looked up at him, watching him watch her, his dark eyes gleaming, his face racked with emotion and hunger. He said nothing as she curled her chocolate-smeared hand around him and stroked some more. Then she moved her mouth back to the tip of him to swallow up that sweetness and masculine heat.

“You’ll unman me.”

“That’s the plan,” she mumbled as she stroked and sucked.

His whole body seemed to grow harder, his muscles flexing, straining, a sheen of sweat highlighting every perfect ridge and slope. He was panting now, striving toward his climax, and she kept pace, stroking harder, sucking deeper.

“Claire!” he cried out, and tried to push her back.

She wasn’t having that. The chocolate and the sweat and the cum and the heat were utterly intoxicating. She was greedy for all of it. So she held tight, her fingers digging into his hips as she forced him to plunge harder into her mouth, driving toward her throat. Until at last a guttural cry signaled his orgasm.

He came in a hot gush and she swallowed greedily, shocked and fascinated at how much she enjoyed this, when she never had before. Something about this big, strong man being made vulnerable because of her, receiving his ultimate pleasure and spewing all that power into her mouth, made her feel strong, confident and surprisingly feminine.

They’d offered each other pleasure, but they’d also given and exchanged sexual power. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced. And as Philip drew her to her feet, wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her to him for a deep, tender kiss, she began to suspect that it wasn’t the act itself that had been so erotic and blissful...it had been that act with this perfect, incredible man.

* * *

I
T
WAS
VERY
LATE
by the time Philip returned to his apartment. After that intense oral pleasure, he and Claire had thoroughly scrubbed the kitchen, then gone back to her apartment down the hall. He’d been incredibly tempted by her offer of a hot, steamy shower together, but once she’d searched her place and realized she had no sexual protection, he’d kissed her good-night and taken his leave. If they’d gotten naked again, he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself from possessing her. And he suspected she wouldn’t have wanted him to.