Midnight Action (11 page)

After she’d caught him ogling her for the tenth time, Noelle raised her eyebrows. “You’re being very rude, you know. You keep leering at my dress, yet you still haven’t bothered to compliment it.”

He shrugged. “Your dress is all right, I guess. Nothing to write home about.”

“Bullshit. I’ll have you know it cost me three grand—that makes it more than
all right
.”

“I don’t care about designer clothes.”

“Says the man in the D and G tux.”

“Says the woman who knew the correct label of a man’s tuxedo by sight.”

“Would it really kill you to admit this dress is sexy?”

“Sexy, huh?” Looking thoughtful, he appraised her from head to toe. “Nah, it would have to be way shorter and cut much lower for that.”

“Bullshit,” she said again.

He just smirked.

“Fine. Well, how about this?” She raised herself up even higher on her Louboutins and brought her lips dangerously close to his ear. “Picture me wearing this dress—except I’m on my knees sucking your cock.”

He stiffened.

“What do you think of the dress now?” she prompted.

His nostrils flared, and she tried not to laugh at his lustful expression.

“That’s what I thought,” she said sweetly.

A waiter walked up just then to collect their empty champagne flutes, but they both declined another drink. Instead, they wandered closer to the orchestra, which was playing a Viennese waltz.

As they paused to listen, Noelle felt several curious gazes on her and Jim. They hadn’t spoken to anyone since their arrival, and even though nobody had approached them when they’d been making their hors d’oeuvres rounds, now that they were standing in one place they had big fat targets on their heads.

She wasn’t wrong—as if on cue, two couples who had been chatting about ten feet away were starting to make their way over.

Noelle quickly touched Jim’s arm. “Let’s dance.”

“I don’t like to dance,” he grumbled.

“I don’t care. We’re about to have some company, and trust me, neither one of us wants to get drawn into a conversation about a pharmaceutical empire we know nothing about.”

Jim nodded in resignation. “Fine.”

They swiftly moved toward the center of the room, where only a few other couples had decided to make use of the dance floor. Noelle and Jim joined them just as the tempo changed into an even slower waltz.

Reluctance creased Jim’s forehead as he roughly placed his hand at the small of her back, so low he was almost touching her ass. “I fucking hate the waltz,” he muttered.

Fighting a grin, Noelle corrected his pose by shifting his hand higher up her back, then rested one hand on his shoulder and tucked her other one into his. When another grumbling sound left his lips, her grin finally breached the surface, because there was truly nothing she enjoyed more than seeing Jim Morgan out of his element. He fit that tux to perfection, moved with grace you wouldn’t expect from a man so big, and yet despite all that, she’d never seen him look more uncomfortable.

“I think I’m going to lick your pussy when we get back to your place.”

The raspy declaration caught her by complete surprise, which, she realized, was exactly what he’d intended.

As her pulse raced and her sex clenched, she stared into his eyes and was unprepared for the sensual glint she saw in them. He no longer looked ill at ease, but confident as hell, and incredibly arrogant.

“What do you think about that?” he murmured, dipping his head close to her ear. “You think I should?”

She recovered from her shock and smiled sweetly. “Only if you’ve been working on your technique. I remember you weren’t very good at it.”

“Bullshit.” His white teeth gleamed in a wicked smile. “I always knew how to make you scream. There was this one spot—I’d flick my tongue over it, and you’d come all over my face. Remember that?”

Then he spun her around and led her around the floor in a carefree waltz, acting as if he hadn’t just sent her arousal levels soaring right out of the atmosphere.

Bastard.

Noelle clenched her teeth and tried to focus on not tripping or stepping on his feet. But it was hard. She was so wet her thighs were actually slippery and sticking to each other, and she had to curse herself for not wearing panties tonight. She’d wanted to avoid panty lines, but now, as desire pooled between her legs, she wished she’d chosen comfort over ego.

She was acutely aware of him as they continued to dance. The pressure of his hand on her back, his heady aftershave, the sexy curve of his lips. His clean-shaven face was almost startling—she was so used to seeing stubble slashing that hard jaw—and his skin was so smooth she was tempted to stroke it and find out if it was as soft as it looked.

She suddenly heard herself speak in a faraway tone. “Remember when I made you dance in the fountain?”

For one brief moment, tenderness softened his eyes before the cocky sparkle returned. “Remember when you sucked me off in the shower that one time? It was the first time you ever swallowed, as I recall.”

“It was,” she said grudgingly.

Then she inched closer, rotated her hips, and rubbed up against his crotch, but just as his breath caught, she backed off and resumed the waltz.

“You loved every second of it,” she added in a throaty voice. “My mouth wrapped around the head of your cock, sucking you dry. You looked real wobbly after that. Could barely stay upright.” She proceeded to mimic his casual words. “As I recall.”

His eyes went heavy-lidded, his sharp cheekbones taking on a bit of a flush.

“You all right, Jim? Or is all this teasing too much for you?”

She stroked the inside of his palm, and he gave another sharp intake of breath.

“Because you’re the one who took us down this path,” she reminded him, coyly batting her eyelashes.

“Trust me, I’m beginning to regret it.” Sounding rueful, he shot a pointed look at his crotch.

She laughed.

He did too.

As always, the sound was downright astounding. She wasn’t used to seeing the rough edges of his face smooth away like that. Or hearing gruff laughter escape his mouth. Scowls and glares were all she’d come to expect from him these days.

“Don’t worry. You’re a supersoldier, remember?” Her mouth curved mockingly. “I’m sure the army taught you how to dance with a hard-on.”

She ground her pelvis into his again, just because she could.

With a tortured noise, Jim lowered his head, his warm breath tickling her earlobe as he murmured one word.

“Cocktease.”

Her grin widened. “Hey, it’s not my fault you can’t enjoy a nice waltz without springing a boner.”

“Right, because
you’re
not turned on in the slightest.”

“Of course I am. I’m just better at ignoring it than you are.”

“Uh-huh.” He tightened his grip and pulled her against his muscular chest, deliberately brushing his very noticeable erection over her belly. “You can ignore it, huh?”

“Yep.”

An evil flash lit his midnight blue eyes. “Interesting. So you’re not thinking about my cock inside you at all.”

Her pussy spasmed. “Nope.”

“Liar.”

Fortunately, the orchestra chose that precise moment to end the waltz, bringing a rush of relief to her chest. Except then the bastards proceeded to slow down the tempo even more, effectively wiping away her relief and yet again turning her body into a lightning rod, helpless to stop the heat Jim was channeling into it.

Their dance might have seemed innocent to the people around them, but each brush of their bodies heightened her arousal. Each time his palm grazed her tailbone, her skin sizzled. Each time his cheek brushed hers, her breathing grew more labored.

Still, no matter what Jim thought, she
was
a pro, and thus perfectly capable of suppressing her desire.

Of course, that didn’t mean she had to stop testing
his
ability to remain professional.

With a mischievous smile, she looked into his eyes and said, “By the way, the shower blow job you mentioned before? I orgasmed the second I swallowed that first drop.”

A strangled growl left his mouth.

And suddenly they weren’t dancing anymore. But still moving. Moving very, very fast, in fact, as Jim dragged her toward the staircase on the other side of the ballroom.

•   •   •

Morgan had no idea where he was going or what he was thinking. He ignored the inquisitive eyes boring into his back as he gripped Noelle’s hand and led her up the spiral staircase. He didn’t know where it led, or where they’d end up—all he knew was that if he didn’t get inside this woman right fucking now, he was going to pass out.

“Jim,” she said uneasily. “This isn’t the time to...”

She didn’t finish and he didn’t care. His lower body was aching, his cock so stiff he could barely walk. He was a man on a mission, his gaze focused straight ahead like a missile homing in on a target.

At the top of the stairs was a small landing opening into a wide hallway with half a dozen doors, but the red velvet curtain to their left was what caught his eye. Gripping Noelle’s forearm, he pushed open the thick velvet and immediately liked what he saw—a shadowy space the size of an opera box. No, it
was
an opera box, Morgan noted when he spotted the curved railing at the edge and the row of plush, red-upholstered seats.

He turned to Noelle. “Come here,” he ordered.

She stayed put. “I don’t take orders from cavemen, thank you very much.”

His gaze swept over her. He’d lied before. He was
totally
digging the dress. And the hairdo. The shoes. The vixen-red lipstick. Christ, he wanted to kiss those fuck-me lips more than he wanted his next breath.

“Come. Here,” he growled.

“Make me.”

Just like that, his control snapped like a bungee cord. Forget breathing—his brain stopped working right along with his lungs, his vision nothing but a thick haze of lust as he grabbed her by the arm and yanked her toward the railing. He spun her around so she was against it, then moved in behind her and ground his aching groin over her ass.

Noelle’s moan cut the air, soft enough that he doubted anyone down below had heard it. And if they did, he didn’t give a fuck. He’d turned into an animal, a desperate, hungry animal with one thought on his mind.

He scrunched up her dress and shoved the material all the way up to her waist. She was still covered in the front, but naked from the lower back down, and when he glimpsed her bare ass, a groan left his lips.

“Oh Jesus.” He stroked her tight buttocks with his palm, then undid the button of his trousers.

Letting out a ragged breath, he reached inside his boxer-briefs and pulled out his granite-hard cock. With Noelle in front of him, he wasn’t worried about anyone catching a glimpse of the little soldier, but there was nothing shielding
her
. If anyone in the ballroom so much as craned their neck, they’d get a hell of an eyeful: Noelle bent over the railing, fingers curled over the cool steel, cleavage spilling out of her dress.

Cursing softly, he wrapped his arms around her and drew her backward, repositioning them so they were against the wall, several feet back and out of view of any guests.

The second he rubbed the head of his cock along the crease of her ass cheeks, she gasped in pleasure. “Oh God.
Please
.”

The quiet plea was enough to make him shudder.

Holding her dress up with one hand, he gripped her hip with the other and drove into her from behind.

Fuuuuuck.

It felt so criminally good he literally saw stars. Heat and moisture surrounded his erection, her inner muscles clamping around him like a hot, pulsing glove. The sexual excitement burning in his blood was stronger than any burst of desire he’d ever felt in his life.

But no, that wasn’t true. He’d experienced this same blast of need before. Earlier today, when he’d been balls deep in Noelle. Nineteen years ago, when he’d been buried inside the most beautiful girl in the world.

It was her. It was always
her
.

The realization spurred his emotions, propelled his hips forward. He slammed into her, struggling for breath, desperately trying to hold on to his crumbling restraint. But there was nothing controlled about this.

With Noelle, it was impossible to hold back.

His chin rested on her shoulder as his hips pistoned hard, his cock furiously thrusting into her tight channel, over and over again. Her unique scent drugged his senses, and the fine hairs at the nape of her neck tickled his cheek and made him shiver.

A moan slipped out when his next thrust hit deep. “Oh God,” she whispered. “More. Faster.”

The tempo went from fast to frantic, as he relinquished all common sense and gave in to raw, primal need. His balls slapped Noelle’s perfect ass with each demanding stroke, and he knew from her little mewls of pleasure that she was getting close.

When she threw her head back and trembled in orgasm, it was like stepping into a room engulfed in flames. His heart stopped and his body burned, and triumph blinded his vision, because it was so rare to watch this woman come apart. So rare to hear her throaty cry of surrender and see the sated slump of her delicate shoulders.

“Coming,” he ground out. “Oh
fuck
.”

The hot waves of pleasure started deep in his balls and shot out in every direction, turning his limbs to jelly and his mind to mush. His release filled her, dripped down his still-hard shaft, and even as he tried to catch his breath, he reached into his pocket for a black silk handkerchief and hastily cleaned them up before their clothes got ruined.

The climax had been so intense he still saw black spots, still had trouble breathing. With a hoarse groan, he withdrew from her tight sheath and tucked his semierect cock back in his pants. As he zipped up his trousers, the hem of Noelle’s dress slipped from his fingers, the silky material floating to the floor with a soft rustle.

“How about now?” Her voice shook slightly as she turned to face him. “Out of your system?”

“No,” he said thickly. “You?”

She opened her mouth, but was cut off by a sudden buzz of voices from the ballroom. Frowning, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and approached the railing.