Stripped Down (6 page)

At the same time, he wasn’t giving up this night with her. He wanted it, wanted her, too much, in a way he’d never felt before. The fire she’d ignited in him now threatened to incinerate him. He had to experience her. She’d made it clear they had tonight and tonight only. Eric wasn’t foolish enough to believe that would be enough, and the thought of living with only that limited taste of her already chaffed. But he agreed—one night was all they could risk.

Needing a distraction, he reached for the radio at the same moment Cass did. Their hands brushed over one another, the simple contact stopping Eric’s breath. It took a moment to realize she’d frozen, too.

“What do you want to listen to?” He couldn’t look at her when he asked the question.

“It’s preset to one-oh-seven-point-one.”

“You like hard rock?” Surprise infused his every word.

“What, you assumed I was a Top 40 girl?”

He laughed. “I guess.”

“Shame on you.” She took the Broadway exit.

A deep guitar riff ripped through the car.

Eric leaned back in his seat. Their shared music preference fueled Eric’s curiosity, made him want to know more about her. It was a bad idea, digging into what made her tick, and he was well aware of it. That kind of knowledge would add a very personal layer to tonight’s pleasure. It didn’t stop him, though.

He reached forward and turned the radio down. “Tell me something about yourself.”

Absently tucking her hair behind one ear, she stole a quick glance in his direction. “What do you want to know?”

Everything.
“Anything.”

“I’m the oldest child.”

“How many siblings?”

“I have one younger brother.”

Shifting onto his hip to face her, one corner of his mouth lifted. “Me, too. Sucks being the oldest.”

Her shoulders hunched forward, and he ached to soothe her, to say he understood. Then she seemed to catch herself and sat up. Her death grip on the steering wheel belied her calm exterior. “Yeah.” She softly cleared her throat. “Yeah, it does.”

“What does your brother do?”

She glanced at him, meeting his eyes this time. “Everything right.”

Muscles along his spine tightened. “Which leaves you doing everything wrong.”

She snorted delicately. “Pretty much. Now your turn.”

His hesitation stalled the conversation for a moment before he finally gathered the nerve to reveal a piece of himself. “I’m the oldest, too. My parents were killed in an accident with a logging truck several years ago. I basically raised my little brother.”

She didn’t say anything, just stared ahead as she drove.

Her silence made him want to scream. Instead, he rambled on.

“Blake was just a kid, really. He struggled, got a little out of control—violent in school, destructive out of school. I was shoved into the role of parent and provider with no clue how to be either. Not really. I was trying to go to college, but corralling him took most of my energy.” He paused, not quite willing to explain how losing his parents had wrecked him yet raising Blake had left him no real time to grieve. Focusing on Blake’s struggles was easier, and he felt the need to justify the primary choice he’d made to provide for Blake. “Stripping was fast money I desperately needed.”

“What did you do with Blake at night?”

“At first I hired someone to stay with him, but that was a total fail. Eventually I made friends with some of the other dancers and they’d volunteer to stay with him while I worked. The strong male presence kept him in the house and off the streets.”

“But why do you continue to strip?”

“To put Blake through college and pay the bills.” No need to explain “the bills” weren’t just his but those of his company, as well. Anxiety rose as he remembered the financial predicament he was in. “It’s been a nightmare of epic proportions, keeping the bills paid and him in school.”

A hard blush stole over his cheeks and his breath caught.
What the hell was that? Super sexy, telling your one-night stand you’re broke, Reeves.
“I’m sorry. I—”

“Don’t apologize for telling the truth,” she said, pulling into a parking lot behind a tall apartment building. “I’ve had plenty of SpaghettiOs nights myself.” She stared straight ahead as she shut off the engine.

He’d had one-night stands before. More than he cared to admit, actually. But he’d never been seriously interested in the woman, not like he was with Cass. She was clever and strong and spirited, yet still reserved and cautious. She reminded him of a ten-thousand-piece, three-dimensional puzzle. It would take a lifetime to get all the pieces together to form the true picture of who she was and what made her tick. But he only had until sunrise.

Leaning in, he threaded his fingers through her hair and pulled her close. She tasted like chocolate and woman and sensual promises. She smelled like feminine desire and warmth and peppermint shampoo. She felt like silk and muscle and tightly coiled energy under his work-roughened hands. And he wanted it all. Every last bit of it.

No more hesitating, no more guilt, no more stupid internal monologues with his conscience. He liked her. He craved her. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted another woman. And he was going to have her.

But it was more than all those things combined. He’d been able to share the tiniest corner of truth with Cass—that raising Blake had been tough—and she hadn’t played the sympathy card or asked him a thousand questions. She simply accepted that he’d done what he had to do and had listened and understood. For the first time since his parents’ deaths, Eric didn’t feel quite so alone.

And he knew one night with Cass simply wouldn’t be enough. But it was the perfect place to start.

* * *

T
HE HEAVY ENTRY DOOR
to her apartment swung shut with a decisive
whump.
Every hair on Cass’s body stood up, aware of Dalton’s proximity as he moved behind her. A hot, hard hand closed around the front of her throat. Moving in close, he swept her hair to the side. “Where, Cass?”

“Where what?” The question was so soft she hardly heard her voice over the shallow breaths that scalded her ear.

“Where do you want me to take you the first time?”

The hand at her throat slid down, across her collarbone and over the swell of one breast. He brushed a thumb over her nipple and she arched into his touch. Heat flooded her sex, left her pelvis heavy with wanting.

“Where, Cass? If you don’t answer me, it will be right here.”

She drew a breath to answer.

“Took too long.” He curled one hand around the back of her pants as he reached down with the other and undid her belt. “Lose the shoes, then the jeans.”

“The coat—”

“No time.”

His hands were there and then gone as he stepped away. Foil crinkled and tore. She kicked her pants free and, before she could form a coherent thought, he spun her around, his hips pinning her to the wall.

“You need to call a halt now if you’re going to. Once we start, I don’t know if I can stop.” He licked a narrow line up the side of her neck and nipped her jaw. “I want you too damn bad, Cass.”

“Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.” Her plea was half sob, half groan. Overwhelming desperation made her demand to have him just like this, right here.

Bending at the knees, he hooked his arms behind her thighs and lifted.

She gasped, wrapping her arms around his neck.

A quick shift and he was poised at her entrance. “Guide me in, baby.”

Reaching between them, she found the head of his cock. Her eyes widened as she maneuvered him into place. “You’re freaking huge.”

“Discuss my pride later.” He thrust forward and groaned. “So damn tight.”

Cass stroked his thick length as he worked his way in. His width and girth stretched her to that beautiful convergence of pain and pleasure, filling her impossibly while leaving her squirming to both take more now and make him slow down. She wanted all of him and pulled him deeper in encouragement, an involuntary whimper escaping. Her fingertips finally brushed his testicles when he was seated as far as he could go.

“Lean back.”

She clasped her hands around his neck and did as he bade, letting her eyes slip closed.

Chest heaving, he slid nearly out of her and paused. “Cass.”

She looked into sea-green eyes and opened her mouth to respond. That’s when he drove back into her. The scream that ripped out of her throat was one of absolute ecstasy. He stretched her just as she’d craved, filled her, made her want it hard and fast and deep. “Again,” she cried.

Dalton didn’t answer. Instead, he set a brutal pace. Every upstroke raked across her clit. Every withdrawal dragged the top of his erection over the same. The stimulation was fierce and unrelenting. His breath came in hard draws, matching her own. His fingers cupped her ass and curled in, but he never slowed down, furiously pumping into her.

The orgasm ripped through her without warning. Nothing had ever felt like this, as if she was being shattered and made whole, flying and falling, dying and living. All at once. All together. Completely out of control.

His wordless shout accompanied a particularly deep thrust, and she felt his cock pulsing inside her as her walls continued to spasm, his thrusts becoming short and sporadic.

“Dalton!” she shouted as a second, smaller orgasm laid claim to her body. Rocking against him, desperate for friction, he pinned her to the wall with his chest and one arm. He slipped his freed hand between them to rapidly strum her clit.

“Ride it out, baby,” he whispered against her lips. “Ride it out.”

She seized his mouth with her own, winding her hands through his hair as she rode both his cock and his hand. A harsh moan shook her as the orgasm crested. The rapid manipulation of her body, the way he continued to drive into her with shallow thrusts, made the second orgasm drag on and on. Finally, unable to take any more, she gripped his wrist and squeezed at the same time she tore her mouth away. “Enough.”

“Not even close to enough,” he said, panting against the side of her neck. “Not even close.”

There was no way to stop her legs from buckling when her feet hit the floor.

Dalton caught her, scooped her up and carried her deeper into the apartment. “Bedroom?”

Pointing was a major win because it meant she had at least minor muscle control.

Through the door, he paused. “Nice.”

The iron headboard of her queen-size bed bumped the wall as he laid her down. He moved to the foot and tugged the bed away from the wall with a wicked look. “No need for the neighbors to know what we’re up to.”

“Something tells me they’ve already figured it out.”

“It’ll give them something to talk about...or aspire to.”

“Yeah, it wasn’t bad for a cold start.”

He threw back his head and laughed, loud and long. “Not bad, huh? I see the lady has high expectations. Good thing I can deliver.”

“Are you always so arrogant?”

“It’s only arrogance if you only
think
you’re good. I
know
I am, and so do you.”

She gave an exaggerated yawn. “Talk, talk, talk.”

He moved to her feet. “Hands on the headboard.”

Cass propped herself up on her elbows as butterflies maneuvered wildly in her belly. “Why?”

“Hands. On. The headboard.”

The iron was cold and rough against her palms as she wound her fingers around the vertical bars. She wanted to ask what he was up to, but she also simply wanted to do what he directed without demanding explanation, to just once not need diagrams and contingency plans for her life. Tonight wasn’t meant to be planned out but rather spontaneously experienced. Closing her eyes, she sighed. To experience him meant giving up control of the moment. She sucked at that.

“Stop thinking so hard.” He stroked her ankle then up her calf. “Bend your knees, feet flat on the bed. Good girl.” A gentle push spread her legs.

Embarrassment scalded her neck and settled across her cheeks. She’d never bared herself to a man before. Not like this. Never so completely. There was a defenselessness to it, a lack of any pretension or place to withdraw to, and the knowledge made her want to clamp her legs together and cover her breasts. It wasn’t that she was a prude. She just wasn’t experienced in some areas. Allowing herself to be so vulnerable was at the top of that list.

Soft caresses and warm lips started up the inside of her leg.

Every muscle in her body spasmed. If allowing herself to be vulnerable held the top spot for sexual inexperience in her life, oral sex ran a close second. Twice she’d allowed a man to go down on her. Twice she’d wondered what the hell all the fuss was about. Sighing, she tried to relax into the sensations of Dalton’s lips and teeth, tongue and breath as he worked his way up her body.

One muscled arm wrapped around her thigh and across her hips. “Easy, Cass.”

“I don’t know if this is a good idea.” She couldn’t bring herself to look at him, instead staring at the ceiling.

“When is oral sex ever a
bad
idea?”

“I...” She rolled her bottom lip under her front teeth and worried it. “Always?”

He propped up on one elbow and gazed up her body. “Look at me, baby.” When she didn’t, he huffed out a short breath. “Fine. If you don’t want to talk about it, I’ll show you why you’re wrong.”

Smooth, firm lips traveled the line between hip and mons. He nipped the insides of her thighs. Every exhale seemed directed to some sensitive spot designed to drive her mad. When his tongue danced around her clit but didn’t touch it, she growled—actually growled.

He settled onto his knees on the floor. “Let go of the headboard.” Hooking his arms around her thighs, he slid her down the bed until she hung off the edge. “Vulnerable” reached a new level of discomfort when he propped her feet on his shoulders, his lips roaming over the inside of her ankles.

Dalton never stopped moving—hands on her hips moving to caress her ass, feather-soft kisses along the inside of her thighs, soft words she didn’t quite understand, the quickening of his breath. Then he paused, wrapped his hands around her thighs to hold them open and—