Lost in You (7 page)

‘Christ,’ he muttered and pulled me against him. He simply held me there as the last of the tremors worked through me. His arm around my lower back. His heartbeat steady and calming beneath my ear. He smelled so good. Like strong man, and some kind of cologne, and sanity.

The last part made me laugh.

‘I’m sorry, Clover,’ he said tugging the end of a lock of hair.

I looked up, hesitant to break the connection with him. I didn’t know how long it would take to get another excuse to be close to him. And being close to him was something I was swiftly realising I liked.

‘It’s fine. I’m fine,’ I assured him. I sat up straight, feeling like an impostor. I was calm now. I couldn’t just lie there in his arms like some swooning heroine.

Dorian stroked my hair. ‘Good. I’m glad. I’m sorry I pressed you on something that is simply none of my damn business.’

‘It’s fine. Thank you for caring.’

I felt my face grow hot. That had simply slipped out. I’d had no idea I was going to say it.

He smiled at me and touched my cheek. ‘You’re very easy to care about, you know.’

Those words set off a waterfall of emotions in me that no one had ever managed to unleash. No man I’d dated. Not even the ones who’d told me they loved me. It was as if Dorian was the man who held a key to my feelings. A key I hadn’t even known existed until he used it to unlock those emotions in me.

‘No.’ Another blurt. The heat of my blush was burning my cheeks. ‘I didn’t know that I was … I didn’t know.’

His lips came down on mine and I immediately opened my mouth to let his tongue slip inside. He stroked his tongue over mine and pulled me closer on the old velveteen couch. The smell of dust and history filled my nose and I kissed him back desperately. I wanted to climb into his lap, wrap myself around him and let him do whatever he wanted. It was an entirely new sensation to me, this surrender. And I adored it, though it scared me half to death.

I didn’t wrap myself around him, but I did let him lean me back and cover me with his body. When his big hands left my face, traversed my hair and then moved down my body to explore me, I arched up into them. I wanted him to touch me. I wanted to feel his hands all over me and I refused to examine the urge, I simply gave into it.

‘Clover –’

I put my finger to his lips and shook my head. ‘Just kiss me,’ I said. And then, so he understood, ‘Yes.’

I knew he’d worry about taking advantage. About it being too soon after my stress reaction. Too soon to take me this way. But it wasn’t too soon. It was right on time. In fact, it had been a long time coming. Since before I’d even met Dorian Martin.

I kissed him frantically. His forehead, his cheeks, his lips. He worked my sweater up over my belly and leaned to kiss me there. The heat of his mouth on my somewhat chilled skin was electric. Dorian dropped small gentle kisses along my skin, travelling higher until tremors hit me again but for an entirely different reason. His mouth closed over my nipple and a lusty sigh slipped out of me. I was wet. That fast. Very wet, wetter than I remembered being from something as simple as strategically placed kisses.

‘Do you think I’m a heel?’ He dragged his tongue from my left breast to my right. His free hand was warm against my waist where he simply held me.

‘Do people even say “heel” any more?’

He chuckled. I forgot to laugh when his mouth closed possessively over my right nipple. Dorian sucked and I felt that drawing, tugging sensation all the way to the centre of me. He stroked the skin above my newly pilfered jeans and I had a moment when I simply prayed he’d slip his hand further down. Beneath the waistband. To find that wetness I’d become so aware of.

‘No, people don’t. I spent too much time listening to my mother and grandmother talk.’ He moved up to kiss me on the mouth again. Still touching me with strong, sure fingers as he thrust his tongue against mine once more.

‘You spend a lot of time around women.’ I touched his dark hair. I really touched it, sifted my fingers through it and stroked it as I kissed him back. I wanted to touch him everywhere now that this had started.

The lights flickered like an old movie stuttering. For the first time I didn’t care. If we lost power, I’d just keep kissing him. Just keep touching him.

‘Not like you. None of the women I’ve been around are even remotely like you.’ He moved to pull the sweater over my head and without even missing a beat, I raised my arms for him to do so. ‘You really trust me, don’t you?’

It was hard to read his gaze. I touched his jaw, nodded. ‘Yes. Does that bother you?’

‘No. It humbles me.’ The sweater came off and I was bare beneath. My poor sodden cami lay abandoned by the front door of the building. His grin went right to my belly, making me feel as if I were falling.

‘I’m going to shut up now,’ I said.

‘Me too.’ Dorian pulled his T-shirt over his head and looked down at me. ‘I feel like there’s a casting-couch joke in here somewhere.’

I touched his bottom lip and his tongue darted out to touch my skin. ‘I thought we weren’t talking.’

‘Sorry. I do tend to break rules.’ Another grin that felt like a flash-fire along my skin. How a simple smile could shut my brain down that way was new to me.

I ran my hand along the hard evidence of his arousal. My fingers curled round the ridge of his erection and he let his eyes drift shut and sighed. But then he snagged my wrist and pinned it down, pressing himself to me, kissing my throat so my nipples turned to hard knots of flesh. His chest was warm against my breasts and he moved his body over mine, pinning me there. Dorian rocked his hips back and forth against me, his cock riding the split of my sex. The pressure and friction were breathtaking.

If this was what the foreplay felt like, I wasn’t sure I’d survive the sex itself. But I was eager to find out.

‘I’m not allowed to touch you?’ I gasped. He moved a bit faster and I wondered, if he kept doing that like that, whether I would come without him even touching me. I was almost certain I would.

Wind howled outside, sounding like some restless beast eager to gain entry to our shelter. Somehow the danger and the bizarre situation made me feel even safer in his arms. Even more cared for.

He was a bit of a mind-fuck, Dorian Martin.

‘You are. Just not yet.’ He dragged his lips along my skin and though I watched and knew it was just his lips, the sensation was as if he were using his tongue. When his mouth reached my navel, his tongue darted out and he nudged me there. It spurred a clenching need deep inside.

I didn’t argue. I was too transfixed. He released my wrists to pop the button on my new jeans. I lifted my hips, caught up in the moment and eager, to allow him to tug them down. Beneath I wore no panties. They had been wet and I hadn’t wanted to take yet another thing from the store.

He growled. It made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.

‘I don’t supposed anyone has ever told you how utterly spectacular you are?’ He looked up at me. His mouth mere inches from where I wanted him to be. I could feel the pulsing beat of my heart between my legs. My pussy clenched around nothing at all. The urge to be with him was relentless.

‘Actually …’ I pushed his dark hair out of his eyes. ‘No. No one has ever told me that before.’

‘So you’ve only dated blind men is what you’re telling me?’ He kissed the jut of my hipbone. His big hands held my hips and his body crushed my legs flat on the velveteen sofa.

‘No, just …’

He kissed the other hipbone and I secretly willed him to move his face to my mound. To part me and lick me and suck me until I did what I wanted more than anything in the world. Simply let go.

‘Just what?’ The heat of his breath washed over my mons. I arched up without thinking and realised what I was doing. Begging him with my body.

When he parted his lips and put his mouth on me, nudging me with his tongue, shooting a bolt of pure pleasure through me, I realised something else … I had no shame. I wanted him to know how much I wanted him. I wanted him to know what he did to me.

He only licked me for a minute. Tonguing my clit and then sucking it before driving his rigid tongue inside me. He continued to suck and lick and flick until I was grabbing great handfuls of ugly green velveteen and moving up to meet his mouth. I let my legs fall open and felt the pound of my heart in my temples, my pussy. I came with a loud cry just as a gust of wind howled and the lights failed. Darkness crushed in around us until they came back on with a sudden flare.

His fingers delved into me and his mouth returned. ‘I can’t – I’m too –’ I writhed under him, his big upper body pinning my legs and my hips as he put his mouth back on me, split me again with his tongue. I could hear the wet sounds of his ministrations and it was more of a turn-on than I expected. In the past that sound had embarrassed me but now – with him – it added to the sensation of him eating me.

‘I want you to come for me one more time. Just once more. You can do it. I’ll be gentle.’ Dorian pulled back to blow a soft breath across my skin. Goose bumps prickled along my arms and legs. Deep inside me a slow, lazy contraction started. I pushed my fingers into his hair and tugged gently, finding myself holding his head steady as I moved eagerly to meet his lips. He sucked hard on my clitoris and his fingers drove deep inside me again. He curled his fingers, played me like his own invented instrument. I was pretty sure he was magic. Some kind of sorcerer. He was pulling sensations out of me I’d never felt. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced. I was no virgin. I wasn’t even very shy in bed. But Dorian Martin inspired pleasure in me like I’d never known. An intoxicating rush of bliss that had my limbs heavy and my head light.

I came a second time with him lapping at me slowly. ‘You taste wonderful, Clover. Sweet and perfect. Just like your name. I like how you clutch at me when you come. But I’d like to hear you say my name.’

He moved up over me, the heat baking off him reminding me that it was cold and scary tonight. But I was here with him. So it all would be OK. I would be OK.

He shucked his trousers, his boxers. The socks went next. I watched it all in some kind of floating nirvana. When he returned to me, he studied me before moving over me. Despite his closeness, I had a sudden shattering moment of panic.

‘Is the door locked?’

‘No one else is here.’

‘Is it locked?’ I asked again, feeling the cold absence of sufficient air in my lungs.

He got up and moved to the door. It gave me enough time to study him in return. The hardness of his body, the lovely colour of his skin. His erection.

I bit my lower lip, waiting for the click of the thumb latch. When I heard it, air flooded my body and I could breathe again. ‘Thank you.’

‘One day you’ll have to explain,’ he said, surging up towards me from the bottom of the sofa like some predatory animal. It made me want to shriek in fear and laugh all at once. His presence and the way he handled himself cross-wired my natural instincts. I reached out to touch him. Brushing my fingertips over the ridges of his chest, down the flat of his belly. When I took him in hand we both froze. That moment stretched out like warm taffy.

‘I like the way you touch me.’ Again that half smile that brought to mind bad boys, rogues and pirates. It was perfect for Dorian Martin. It would have been an affectation on anyone else.

‘But it’s your natural state,’ I muttered without thinking about it.

‘Come again?’ He settled between my thighs and moved his hips side-to-side to truly seat himself at the centre of me. All that air I’d managed to locate fled again.

‘Sorry. Thinking aloud.’

‘Here’s the part where I ask you if you’re really truly sure,’ he said. He kissed my collarbone and then dragged his tongue over the place that he’d just kissed. When I moaned he licked one nipple before moving slowly, torturously, on to the next. I was panting by the time he was finished and I felt the resilient press of his cock to the wet split between my legs.

I didn’t speak. I did something that for me was totally out of control. I took it. I reached between us, allowing my fingers to skim his belly, his hipbone. I watched dark-green eyes grow darker with arousal. His eyes half closing with the sensation of my hand on him. It was intoxicating. Doing this. And God, how I had waited, without realising it in the least, to be intoxicated.

I guided him to me, arched my hips, took him in. Just the tip. Waiting. Watching his face to see what he’d do.

‘That’s a yes, then,’ he said, his voice barely audible.

Energy skittered over my skin. Water and electricity mingled. Volatile. That was what our moment felt like. Suspended in a swirling vortex of sheer kinetic energy.

‘Yes.’ I moved up just a hair more. I was testing his control. I knew it and he knew it. His jaw was set with determination and then in a blink he let out a rough sound. The kiss he delivered was equally rough, as if he was punishing me or maybe himself for this intense connection. I gasped and his tongue thrust against mine even as he drove his hips down and suddenly filled me. My body didn’t balk. It simply stretched and revelled at his penetration. I wrapped my legs around him, opening myself further, and we inhaled simultaneously. The silence in the moment that followed was deafening. Nothing pierced it but the tick of the clock, the howl of the wind and the sensual sounds of one body joined with another. And, for just a second, all that bled away too and I was there in utter silence watching him as he watched me. Gauging my reaction. Tracking my pleasure.

I moved up to take him even as his hands came down to pin my wrists by my hips. He crushed me with his body, with his kisses, with his desire. I sank into the overwhelming presence that was Dorian Martin and when he nipped my ear, saying, ‘Clover, Clover, so sweet …’ I came.

I didn’t hold back or stifle myself. None of the things I always scolded myself for afterwards when sex was involved. I liked to be the wallflower. Not showing how good things felt even when they did.

Not this time, though. I tossed my head back and moved up to meet him, feeling each eager thrust to the fullest. I cried out and the words flew off my lips before I knew I’d formed them. ‘Dorian. Dorian … Oh …’