Ross 04 Take Me On (7 page)

…had nothing on the feel of his mouth on them, which came next with a swiftness that shocked the breath from her.

He went from one to the other, making her dizzy, making her crazy. She raked her fingernails up his back, and in return he drew her right nipple deep into his mouth and sucked. In the depths of her body where he had yet to touch her, she throbbed. Her pussy clenched. She undulated against him, trying to make him feel how much she needed him, needed him
now
. He didn’t care. He was content to suck her and drive her insane. Just when she thought she couldn’t take any more, he moved to the other nipple and started all over again.

“Ian!” she cried, shoving both hands into his hair. To push him away, to draw him closer… She didn’t fucking know, didn’t fucking care. She did both in equal measure, mussing his thick hair just the way she’d imagined, and it was in every way as delicious as she’d hoped it would be.

His mouth released her with an audible pop. Gabby nearly collapsed, relief and disappointment swooping through her. Relief because she didn’t think she could take any more, disappointment because she probably would have come if she had.

He pulled her down beside him so that she lay facing him, wearing nothing now but her panties.

Ian still wore his jeans and his boots. Imagining him leaving them on while she freed his cock and rode him spiked her heart rate even further. There was little time for imagining anything, though, because his hand slipped between them, his knuckle tracing a light path down her belly until it reached the lace of her panties. Her hips surged instinctively toward that touch.

He cupped her through her underwear, drawing a long sigh from her and an answering groan from him. Gabby spread her legs as much as she could in her position.

“So wet,” he murmured, the first words he’d uttered since she’d told him to stop talking. And it was okay. She didn’t mind if he talked like
that
. And the way he rubbed her…yeah, she didn’t mind if he kept doing that either. Especially when he moved the panel aside and…

Ohhhh
. She said it as she thought it. His blunt fingers trailed through her wetness with excruciating gentleness, caressing, circling, avoiding all the places she needed him most but building that need with an evasive precision that had her writhing. “
Ian
.”

“Gabriella,” he returned, and he almost sounded amused. “I think your name is beautiful.”

“It’s too long,” she breathed, the last word broken as one of his fingers penetrated her. The sensation was so acute she reached down and grabbed his wrist. Her muscles constricted around him, trying to draw him deeper even when he had nothing more to give. She moved her hand from his wrist to his bulging cock, rubbing through his jeans.
That
would give her every inch she needed. And then some.

Trying not to disrupt the wonderful things he was doing between her legs, she set about releasing him from the confines of his jeans. He shuddered as she worked, and once his heavy length was in her hand—
good God!
—he blew out a breath as she gave him one long stroke after another. He began moving his finger in her rhythm, adding another and stretching her wider when she hooked her leg over his hips.

“Oh God,” she gasped, giving him a squeeze that drew a similar comment from him. Gently, he withdrew his fingers from her and pulled her over him again, positioning her so that her clit was nestled against his thick cock through the damp cotton panel of her underwear. She rubbed against him, leaning down to kiss him. Showing him the rhythm she would want when he was inside her. Wonderfully, gloriously inside her.

Until his hands caught her hips and showed her a thing or two about rhythm. Short bursts of energetic thrusting, then long, slow drags she could already practically feel igniting all the right spots inside her. “Yes,” she whispered, and nibbled his bottom lip. It would be so easy, so easy, to just pull her panties to the side and slide over him. “Ian, I’m so ready. Please.”

His hands slid to her ass and pulled her up the length of his body so fast she almost toppled over him. What was he…? Oh.
Oh
. Even through her underwear, his hot breath branded her, and she grabbed on to the headboard to keep her balance. His lips closed over her clit, keeping the fabric between them. From behind where he held her, his fingers dipped in to rub at her entrance, and she really didn’t think she could get any wetter for him. He pushed shallowly inside her again as his teeth closed over her panties and pulled at them.

God, but she was about to erupt. Her knuckles had to be whitening with the force of hanging on. When the wet warmth of his tongue hit her right where all the sensations centered, she jerked back. “I don’t want to come yet,” she groaned.

“Then don’t,” he said, pulling her back to him. “Don’t come, Gabriella. Don’t.”

How could she not? His tongue found her again. Slow, wet, circling licks. She sobbed with pleasure, her arousal hitting peaks she didn’t think she’d ever known. He growled his unknowing victory at getting her there. One of his hands left her hips to cradle her breast, thumbing the aching nipple as she licked her lips and tried to stave off an orgasm she wanted more than anything in the world.

Her muscles jellied. “I can’t…” she rasped, and he stopped, pulling her down his body to kiss her. Letting her taste herself on his lips. From head to toe, she shook with weakness, putty in his hands. Those hands went down the back of panties and shoved them lower—and somehow he divested her of them. She was too frenzied with lust to care how. For all she knew, he might have ripped them. Gabby only had the sense about her to mutter, “Condom,” and after a few agonizing moments, he was dragging her back in place on top of him, keeping her off the bed so the friction of the mattress wouldn’t murder her raw skin.

He reached down, and she felt him positioning himself at her entrance. “Yes,” she said, distantly hearing her own voice and the excitement in it. Her body reacted on its own, pushing down on him, but he caught her and held her and made her take his brutally slow ascent. “Ian, oh God, Ian…”

His harsh breath in her ear was the only response he gave her. Was he as carried away by this as she was? He had to be.
Had
to be. His cock stretched her so perfectly, so, so flawlessly, almost as if he had been made for her. Her body was alive in a way she’d never known.

Again, she felt small in the face of this, in the sheer power of their fusion, in the pleasure threatening to swamp her at any moment and carry her out like a riptide. Just when she thought he couldn’t go any deeper, he did. Just when she thought he wouldn’t make her wait any longer for the full power of his thrusts, he would. She was draped over him and at his mercy, the exact way she’d wanted to be. She tried to move, tried to show him how much she needed him to move, but her attempts were futile and pathetic.

All it took was her final, defeated utterance of his name.

His hands tightened on her; his hips drew back. She groaned into his neck as his cock nearly slid from her wasted body. When she had but an inch or so left of him, he gave it all back. All of it. And she awakened. She rose up on her arms, staring down at him, full of him, consumed by him. There was pleasure to be had in his glorious body, and by God, she was going to take it and make it hers.

Dropping her mouth to his in a furious kiss, she lifted and dropped, lifted and dropped, taking him in, pushing him out. Tightening her muscles and stealing his breath. He joined in her rhythm, this time not fighting it, not showing her his own. His hands fisted in her hair, his body jerked and shuddered as she rode him.

“So good,” she whispered against his lips. “You feel so good, baby.”

“Fuck,” he groaned. “You’re gonna make me come.”

She didn’t care; watching him find his release would be almost as satisfying as finding her own. Almost. She rubbed her entire body against him, and even with him thick and pumping hard inside her, she couldn’t seem to get close enough.

Still, in the throes of mindless passion, he was careful about where his hands ventured. Never to her back. Only her hips and her breasts and shoulders. Down her arms. She lowered herself to him and reached for his hands, twining her fingers with his and pinning him down. A fine sheen of sweat slicked her skin, and she tasted the salt of his when she kissed his jaw.

Close, she was so close… Angling her hips so that her clit could grind into him, she tossed her head back and gasped as two separate sensations fused and pitched her higher. Before she could gasp his name, that riptide swept her out. Every muscle locked down on him, and the intensity of her climax nearly rent her in two. Her body carried on an erratic rhythm of its own volition, demanding more of this from him and getting it, milking it, taking all he had to give.

Whatever words tumbled from her mouth, she wouldn’t remember them later, but she would remember his face as he joined her. The way his brow furrowed, the way his mouth opened—it was all shown to her through a dim shaft of light from the single window, and he was gorgeous.

Silent, though. As he shook and pulled her closer, he scarcely uttered a sound. She only knew he came from the throb of him deep inside, the pleasure drawn on his shadowed face.

Damn, what she wouldn’t give to make this man roar. But there wouldn’t be any more opportunities for that, would there? He certainly wouldn’t be up for it. She might, though. Oh, holy hell, after that? He might have to beat her away with a stick.

As passion’s grip released them both, she eased down over his body and struggled to catch her breath. His arms—still minding her sensitive skin—wound around her shoulders and the small of her back. At least he gave her that much. She snuggled her face into the crook between his neck and shoulder and breathed deeply, feeling her heart rate slow. His still beat strong against her.

He smelled so good. Hell, they smelled good together…his spice and her musk and their sex blending into an intoxicating perfume. No wonder she’d felt so drunk, so drugged.

She chuckled lazily at the sappy, romantic direction her thoughts were taking. God knew she was aware of what this was all about. She’d needed to get laid; she’d needed to be desired. He’d seemed like a good candidate—and damn, had he ever lived up to her expectations.

“What’s so funny?” he asked, and despite the grounding nature of her feelings now, she could appreciate the huskiness of his voice and how satiated he sounded. She’d done that for him, and it was a kick.

“Just thinking about how we smell.”

Now it was his turn to laugh. “How we
smell
? Are you trying to tell me something?”

“No, idiot. You smell magnificent. And so do I, if I do say so myself. But together we smell…amazing.” Exasperated, she gave him a little pinch. “Don’t you agree?”

He sniffed the air, then sniffed at her while she laughed. “You smell like…hmm…I don’t know. You’d smell better, though, if you smelled like bacon.”

“
What?
”

“Come on, now. Bacon is the greatest smell in the world.”

When her stomach took that moment to protest its emptiness, she was kind of inclined to agree with him. But still. Really? “I’m going to take that as a personal affront. That I don’t smell as good as bacon.”

“You shouldn’t feel that way. It’s just, you know…fact. It’s not like you can help it.”

“Are we really talking about this?”

“Well, you brought it up.”

“I didn’t bring up bacon.” This had to be the dorkiest conversation she’d ever been a party to, and that was saying a lot. “Tell you what. If you say you have some on hand, and one of us can fry it up, I’ll forgive you for letting me know I’m inadequate according to your olfactory system.”

He touched her hair, tracing one long strand with the tip of his finger. “Sure. We can do that. How about a BLT?”

“Sounds heavenly.”

As Ian crawled from the bed, Gabby propped her head up and allowed herself to thoroughly appreciate the view. While they’d been tangled up in each other, he’d never completely lost his jeans, but he’d lost them enough that she had a full view of his ass. What she wouldn’t give for her back to be healed so maybe he could throw her down and really put those tight, wonderful muscles to work on her. Even now she wanted to sink her fingernails into his firm curves, and fantasized about doing so while he bent her knees to her ears and pounded into her.

Whew, damn. If she wasn’t careful, she’d get herself all worked up again and burn even more calories she was desperate to replace.

Hell, she was already worked up. If he wanted to go again, she’d be all for it. But he disappeared into the bathroom, and a second later, light flooded in from the doorway. With a contented sigh, Gabby collapsed back on the bed and stared at the ceiling…and wondered what Mark was doing right now.

If
that
wasn’t a freaking unwelcome intrusion. It wasn’t that she cared. Or, more accurately, it wasn’t that she
wanted
to care—because, damn him, she did. Every now and then he trespassed on her thoughts when he should be the furthest thing from her mind. Like after she’d just had great sex with someone who wasn’t him. Her first great sex since he dumped her. Her only sex.

So yeah, she still thought about him, and she dreaded—dear God, she
dreaded
—going back to Dallas, where he might be inclined to seek her out.

Not that she really thought he would. But he’d made a comment about their timing being wrong, about how someday maybe it would be right. He could go on waiting for that moment, she’d told him, because she damn sure wasn’t. To be so brilliant, he’d proven himself a fool to think she’d go for that.
“Oh, sure, Mark, I’ll just hang around and wait for ‘someday’ and the next wedding you decide to skip out on. Sounds like a plan.”