Lifestyles of the Witch & Famous (8 page)

Uh-oh. The rough play might just have become a little too rough. Her heart hammered against her ribs.

“They get spanked,” Tyler said.

What?

Molly’s eyes widened, then narrowed. He was bluffing. She hoped.

“You. Wouldn’t. Dare.”

“Try me.”

The bed suddenly dipped with a series of lightning moves. Giving her no time to react, he let go of her wrists to grab the nearby pillow, sliding off her and rolling her almost in the same breath. Before she knew it, she was belly down on the swaying mattress with the scarlet cushion propping her fanny in the air and Tyler’s hand pressed firmly on the small of her back, locking her in place.

Damn.

Her hair fell over her face, blinding her. Molly clawed at the bedspread and kicked her feet, trying to twist loose. Sensations swept her in rapid-fire succession. Disbelief. Anger. Fear… And a guilty sense of excitement when she realized she wouldn’t be able to free herself without taking extreme measures.

The excitement increased as he ran his other hand up the backs of her thighs and smoothed his palm over her rear. Electric tingles struck her like a shower of sparks. Then his hand lifted, and she braced herself for a slap, hating the fact she was half looking forward to it. Almost.

His hand touched down light as a feather – and hotter than Hades. His husky voice stroked over her like another caress.

“You’re right, I wouldn’t. It’d be a crime to do anything that might damage this delectable ass.” With a deep-throated guttural growl, he planted a hungry open-mouthed kiss on each cheek. Then he shifted, quickly, to kneel between her legs. “Besides, I have a better idea.”

His thighs drove hers apart as he leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “I want to take you from behind, just like this…hard and hot… I want to fill you with fire.”

Hell, she was already ablaze.

His chest rubbed her back. All muscle, all man…

Molly’s toes curled. Moisture beaded her skin. Not perspiration. Ladies perspired, and she was no lady right now. She was sweating like a whore, panting for him like a bitch in heat. Tyler swept her hair aside and kissed the nape of her neck. A delicious thrill shot down her spine.

“Say it, baby.” He sank his weight onto her and positioned himself for entry. “Tell me what you want.”

How? She could barely think, let alone speak. Her fingernails raked deep grooves in the velvet spread at the feel of his erection pushing against her. She shouldn’t want this—

A hand slipped between her and the pillow. A finger touched her most sensitive spot, pulling a sharp gasp out of her, then moving into a merciless rhythm.

“Feel what I can do for you, Molly.”

He rubbed and paused…rubbed and paused…building the pressure in her to a volcano-pitch. But always stopping before she erupted.

He’d kill her or drive her insane, that’s what he’d do.

Control broke. And so did Molly.

“Tyler…please…”

“What, baby? What do you want? This?”

A slight shove of his hips, and the head of his shaft teased her slit, while his hand continued the other torment.

The hell with that. He was playing with the wrong girl now. Desire scattered caution to the winds. She was a crazy woman. Crazy for him. If he didn’t like it, he had only himself to blame.

She shoved back – hard – and drove him into her past the point of no return.

“Oh, shit…” Tyler cursed and groaned.

Molly scarcely heard him. She jerked with the impact of penetration. All her muscles contracted. Pain, she’d expected, and pain she got, but not enough to tarnish the moment. In a way, the initial sting only made the following pleasure more intense. Ecstasy rolled through her in bright lava-hot waves. She braced up on her elbows and pushed more, taking him in to the hilt, stretching herself…
So tight
… How could he fit?

But he did.

Electric shudders racked her at the sense of complete fullness. New pressure built, so close to her surface an explosion seemed seconds away.

Then the bottom dropped out of her – and with it, Tyler. She almost screamed as he withdrew and rolled off. Then her reflexes took over—

“Oh, no you don’t.” Molly twisted to her side and grabbed, the waterbed rocking with the movement.

“Arrgh—” Tyler made a strangling noise when her grab connected with his erection.

That hurt, huh?

Good.

She tightened her grip to let him know she meant business, and glared at him as he lay frozen on his side, facing her, his eyes blazing – in anger and shock mostly, but there might have been a few other emotions, too, swirling around in that deep blue stare. Molly just didn’t feel like taking the time to decipher it.

“Listen, buddy” – her breath came in ragged gasps – “you started this, and you’re damn well going to finish it.” She punctuated the order by giving her handful an added squeeze.

He winced, his breathing as threadbare as hers. “Molly—”

“Use it or lose it,
Mr. James
.”

A yank brought him sliding toward her. Hardly surprising, considering what she was yanking on.

“All right!” The words came out in a grunt.

Or was that a growl?

Whatever.

His hand closed over her wrist, and he did some squeezing of his own. Not enough to hurt, just enough to unlock her grasp.

“But on three conditions.” Tyler’s expression hardened, sudden warning in his look. “One, you remember that you asked for this.”

His favorite theme apparently. Acid dripped from her reply. “I’ll sign a release form, absolving you of any and all responsibility—”

A warm finger on her lips hushed her. “Two, we do this
my
way.”

Molly suppressed a whimper. His way took so godawful
long
.

Her breath hitched as his finger traveled over her chin and slowly traced a line down the center of her torso, stopping only when he reached the fluff of curls at the juncture of her thighs. He touched the magic spot, and she dropped, with a groan, from her side onto her back. Her legs fell open for him without any more coaxing. Gods, she was weak.

“Okay…your way.” She started to pant again as his hand soothed and stroked. Helpless to do anything else, Molly clutched his shoulders when he eased on top of her – belly to belly, chest to chest – his eyes locked on hers, dark with desire. Her own desire flared up, tightening her voice. “What’s the third condition?”

Tyler lowered his face to hers. “
Don’t
call me mister. Especially not when we’re naked together.” His lips grazed hers in a feather kiss. “I have a first name,” he whispered against her. “
Use
it.”

Time stopped, and thoughts scattered like autumn leaves born away on a breeze. The room swirled away to nothing. Everything disappeared except the sound of him, his warm male scent, the feel of his body pressing into her… And a reckless need to feel more.

“Tyler…”

Chapter 5

Tyler’s mouth covered Molly’s, swallowing whatever she’d been going to say after his name. He wasn’t sure he wanted to hear it. It couldn’t have been anything too nice, not when he’d just been such a jerk.

A split second, that’s all it had taken. He realized what he’d done almost instantly. But “almost” wasn’t fast enough to undo it.
What was torn asunder could not be replaced.
Or something like that.

Now all he could do was try to give her a good orgasm. It seemed a piss-poor trade for what she’d given him, but he met the challenge with his usual attention to detail. This was one of his two main talents after all.

The problems arose when Molly countered all his well-practiced moves with her own, responding with a passion that fried flesh and boiled blood. His.

How could he be gentle with her when she was driving him berserk? She must be sore down there. Why didn’t she act like it? Wasn’t she afraid? He was. Despite what some said, he wasn’t an animal. He didn’t want to pound her like one. Not this time anyway. There’d be ample opportunity for that later, after they were—

Damn it, I said
my
way.

Tyler grabbed her hips, stopping her when she tried to push up onto him. “Easy, baby, let me do it. I’m trying not to hurt you.”

Molly moaned as though she was already hurting, but that kind of pain he could cure. He cut off her protest with another kiss while he slid into her – carefully, one inch at a time – counting backward from a hundred to maintain his control, holding himself on a tight leash.

Which snapped the moment her silky heat engulfed him, and she locked her legs around his waist.

Help me, Lord… Lord?… Are you listening?

Apparently not.

Tyler lost count at seventy-nine.

Molly shoved up against him, and… Oh hell, he was a man. What was he supposed to do?

He nailed her to the mattress.

And she nailed him right back, forcing the action into an eager give-and-take that escalated with every solid inward thrust. Her inner muscles gripped him in a hot satin vise. She took every inch of him and gyrated her hips, urging him deeper, demanding more…more… In and out, harder, faster…

Tyler tried to slow it – really he did – nearly gave himself a hernia trying to hold back, to be gentle, but she didn’t make it easy. Where had she learned this?
How
had she learned it? The woman was a whitewater rapids ride. And he went with her. Over the falls, without a barrel…

Splash!

They crash-landed together, hard, in a tangle of bedclothes and limbs.

Tyler lay dead still at the finish, waiting for the smoke to clear. Either someone was testing nuclear bombs nearby or he’d just had the great-granddaddy of all orgasms. He hoped Molly’s had been as momentous.

She lay beneath him, equally silent and limp, one leg hooked over his and both her arms draped around his neck. He felt her heart beating, and her fragrance filled his nostrils, heady and rich. Jasmine with a hint of sandalwood, and laced now with the musky scent of sex.

He breathed deep, savoring. A bad move. Inhaling her made him want to start the whole show over again, and it was too soon for an encore. If she hadn’t been sore before, she would be now.

With infinite care, he extricated himself from their tangle and slipped off to his side, bracing up on an elbow to gaze down. Another bad move. She looked even sexier than she smelled. The image of a fallen angel with skin flushed pink, eyes closed, her lips swollen from the kissing and half parted as she panted softly for breath. Her skirt was bunched up around her waist like a wanton’s. Her hair spilled out over the crimson spread like liquid gold.

An angel’s face and a body like mortal sin. So beautiful she made him ache.

His chest tightened with something akin to tenderness, only stronger. A danger signal, and he didn’t like it. His groin tightened, too, but that he could handle. Lust was simple. The tender feeling drove deeper and was anything but simple. It meant caring, which was the worst move of all.

Caring just left you wide open for pain. That’s why he’d sworn off it years ago. He wasn’t nearly the greedy bastard the world thought him, never asked for more than he could give. A few laughs and a lot of lust, that was all he wanted in a relationship. Anything more and the trouble started. Why didn’t women understand that? They were the greedy ones.

“Uhh…” Molly sighed and stirred. Her eyelashes fluttered against her cheeks, then lifted and she stared up at the ceiling, looking a little too like a hit-and-run victim trying to figure out what had just mowed her down.

He had – Bulldozer Tyler James – and he couldn’t say he felt particularly proud of the accomplishment. Score another right for Barry. And damn George Farrell for leaving such a crucial piece of info out of his reports.

Or, um, maybe not.

A sharp pang stabbed him when he imagined
how
Farrell could have uncovered info like that – and knowing Georgie-boy, he’d have loved the research, too. The idea of any man but himself
uncovering
Molly made Tyler want to slam something. The other man, preferably.

Tyler bit back a curse. Tenderness
and
possessiveness? He was in worse shape than he’d thought. Anger at himself, coupled with a fear of what he might be falling into, manifested as anger with Molly. And why not? She wasn’t entirely blameless here. Shouldn’t a woman give a guy a little warning? How else was he supposed to know these things?

He glared at her as, with obvious effort, she blinked the daze out of her eyes, pulling herself up into awareness by her own bootstraps. Except she was wearing some sort of artsy beaded ballet slippers – or had been. The slippers had fallen off at some point in the proceedings and were lost now in the jumble they’d made of the bed. She’d lost quite a lot just recently, hadn’t she? A nice man would have asked,
“Are you all right?”
Tyler knew that. But then, he’d never claimed to be nice.