Strung Out (Needles and Pins #1) (34 page)

The kiss was as sweet and tender as the one in the water had been. I wrapped my arms around him, arching until my chest was flush with his. Our tongues mated and mingled until the tingly sparklers firing through me began to flare and flame. We hadn’t broken the seal of our lips; our breath only heated the kiss more. His fingers curved to my upper arms, and this is where they remained despite the rest of my body longing for his touch.

I pulled apart, and we sucked in breaths, refueling our cells with oxygen. He seemed disappointed, and then something akin to shame filled his face. “I’m sorry. I just wanted to kiss you better, take your mind off things for a minute. And then I meant to stop. I know it’s not the right time with all that just went down―”

The raspy apology ceased abruptly when I pulled my shirt over my head and let it drop. His lips parted slightly, seemingly in surprise, but in one sweeping motion, he had his tee shirt off too, and it landed in the vicinity of mine. Our bodies collided again, and I whimpered as our skin melded together.

“Damn, Scar.” He muttered into my mouth. “I lose my mind when you make that sound.” And in response, I vocally rewarded his words with another hum of bliss, dragging an echoing groan from his throat. His hands roamed, up and down my back, fingers dipping beyond the waistband of my jeans until they met resistance of the denim snug against my ass. Wandering to my front, his hands and fingers continued his nomadic exploration, around my waist, flattening over my belly, thumb swirling into my navel, and dragging upward with agonizing slowness, before dipping into my bra and coaxing another octave from me. The slight friction of his callus-roughened fingertips fed the frenzied fire lapping at my body.

As for my explorations, I couldn’t get enough. The heat of his skin. Silk and steel. Ink and indention… My fingertips pressed until they dipped into the ridges of his ribs, and I swept my touch down to the heat of his abdomen, and down more. In one deft movement, I freed the top button of his fly and then ripped the zipper down. The whispering grate of metal sent a jolt of heat like lightning between my legs.

I reached, greedy for my prize, but right when my nails lightly raked the front of his briefs, he captured my wrist. Containing it in the curve of his fingers, he wrapped his other arm around my waist and used his weight to ease me back until I reclined. Locking the imprisoned hand to the carpet, he stretched over me, bracing his weight as he dipped in for another kiss.

I was panting as loud as Rascal had been in the boat. My skin was ablaze. A sheen of sweat cooled slightly in the wake of his hot breath as he kissed and tasted every inch of skin his hands had traversed. If I could have spoken, I would have begged harder than the occasional “please,” when his tongue licked and lavished in delicious ways. Gage’s tongue was as skilled in its devotion to my body as it was in each kiss. It blazed down my cleavage, darting beneath the strip of bra. With his free hand, he pushed at the material enough to tongue trace the ultra-erotic zone beneath each breast. Brushing with his lips in a side-to-side motion, he trailed down bit by bit, teasing the hyper-sensitive valley where my ribcage met. And then with one long lick back up, he coaxed another frantic whimper from my lips.

At long last, he released the hand he’d held hostage and unfastened the fly of my jeans. Wasting not a second of this freedom, I hooked my thumbs into the waistband and pushed them down. When they reached my knees, he swiftly dragged them the rest of the way, releasing my ankles from the tight hems and yanking the denim off.

He sat back for a moment, feasting those dark eyes appreciatively over me. My bra had been pushed up, out of the way, but not unhooked, and now, I released the front clasp.

“Really? It would have been that easy?” He let one of his smirks fly, but a glint of adulation lit his gaze as he took in the twin peaks and filled his hands with their goodness. “So beautiful… I guess you know that, though. You get to see ‘em every day.”

I felt my lips curve in response to his antics and then gasped, bowing up from the rug when he dropped back down to both elbows and again worshiped that proclaimed beauty with his teeth, tongue and lips—this time without the hindrances of lingerie.

I tried to ease the ache between my legs, wrapping a leg to his waist and rubbing my throbbing core against his open jeans. The zipper pull settled for a moment in the perfect place on my silk panties, and I sighed out a pleasured hum. He growled against my skin and released me long enough to shuck his jeans.

He’d just pushed them over his hips when he stalled. “Shit. I have to get a condom.” He pulled them back up and ordered sternly, “Don’t move.”

“You don’t have one in your wallet?” I’d slipped the billfold from his pocket and tossed it to the side when it had dared to get between my hands and his fine ass. My neck craned, seeing the wallet right out of reach. But I was talking to his back. He was already across the room and then out of sight.

I thought about following despite his order to stay put. Now when he was no longer distracting me with desire, the bed sure sounded more comfy than the carpet. It only took a second, though, for the musing to derail, becoming a speculation of how many had been in that bed. I remained where I was.

He was soon back, and as his jeans came off, I mirrored the motion, removing my last scrap of clothing. His touch on me, now without that little barrier of silk, had me struggling to hold back a scream. He fused his lips to mine and explored this new territory as thoroughly as he had every inch of my skin. The tips of his rough fingers trailed over, caressed, and then after one last trace up my slit, slipped inside. One long digit plunged deeply, and as exquisite as it felt, my insides clenched, wanting more.

Was that me? Had I expelled that desperate scream? He answered with a groan, and a second finger joined the first. This time a satisfied moan left my mouth.

“Open your eyes, Scar…”

I’d slipped inside a vortex of sensation without realizing my lids had drooped. At his quiet command, they flew open, finding his gaze inches from mine, staring into my soul. His thumb dropped, skimming over my most private lips, and then pushing past them. Without blinking, he held my captive look while caressing all around that sweet point of pleasure. I knew I was squirming, as he continued to finger fuck me. Instinctively my body worked to guide the touch of that elusive thumb, and maybe just as instinctively I held back a scream until he pressed—
ringing my bell
.

Only then did I subconsciously reward him with the crescendo of sound he’d plied from my body. He continued to strum, playing me as fervently as Claudine. Back and forth, around and again with his thumb. In and almost out, over and over with his long fingers.

Having been introduced to those skilled fingers in the shower around this time yesterday didn’t lessen the effect of his touch. In fact, it may have heightened every sense because I knew how exquisite the buildup and release was going to be. Thinking about our shower gave me a cognitive nudge, and I reached down, curving my fingers around what I’d deliriously deprived myself of last night. He groaned into my mouth and then cursed. His attentive touch fumbled for a half second when I slid my fingers down his silky steel length to the base and cupped the weight of his family jewels. I squeezed lightly, and another husky moan, mixed with a curse, filled our kiss. Curving my hand around him, I stroked.

Up. Down. Up down.
Twist
. I remembered and mimicked. His rhythm from the night before was etched into my mind.

He countered my action with his own attention to my ‘tunnel of love.’ The night before, the stretch, twist, and finishing hook of his fingers had been my big bang moment. But this time with my attention divided, a shriek tore through my lips and then a sound of frustration.

“Gage…” And my next mumbled words had never,
ever
, before slipped unheeded through my lips. Dirty talk was something I had always forced on occasion to speed up getting a guy off. Until now, crude four letter words had never slipped out in groans and pleas. “…your cock… inside me now…”

He didn’t need to be told twice. Obeying, he rolled on the condom and then filled me in one smooth move. He watched astounded when I uttered his name again—this time as a scream—and immediately exploded. I trained my eyes on his, basking in the emotion just beyond the fringes of his surprise. When I wrapped tighter to him and urged him on, I swore I saw a flash of cocky male pride. But then we were rocking and rolling. And in no time, I was again as worked up as him, my breaths as short, my cries crazed…

“Damn, Scar…” He eased
his weight up some. “Are you okay? I didn’t mean to crush you…”

“Breathing is overrated.”

He grunted something that may have been a syllable of a chuckle. Rolling to his side, he pulled me with him. “Sorry…” His lips brushed my forehead. “Seriously, I was out for a few seconds. That was… intense…”

“Intense.” I agreed and couldn’t stop a giggle from bubbling up.

“What? I just can’t think of any words spectacular enough for that.”

“Me either.” I touched my lips to the slight scruff on his chin.

He reached between us, and when the condom was tied off, he seemed embarrassed when he gazed around and then reached for his discarded boxers and rolled it out of sight inside them before collapsing again.

I understood. I couldn’t have stood and carried myself herself beyond this spot on the floor if the house had caught fire. His voice was listless, clearly sapped of strength when he whispered, “You asked why it wasn’t in my billfold.”

“Mmh hmm.” My lips never parted when I answered.

“I took it out. Removed the temptation when I realized how crazy you were making me. Fuck. Every time I look around you’re in a teeny tiny swimsuit or those black shorts. Always prissing around being your sassy sweet self. When we decided to figure things out between us, I didn’t put it back. Because I didn’t trust myself not to nail you in the heat of the moment.” He cuddled closer, one inked arm pleasantly weighting my breasts, and his voice dissolved to a mumble. “I wanted to date you. Proper. Instead of mauling you. But this thing with us has been crazy from the start.”

“Unpredictable.” I agreed, and although I was too languid to add any more to his train of thought, a caboose passed through my mind. Did no convenient condoms mean he had sworn off other women during the phase when we’d realized our attraction but hadn’t yet decided to explore it?

“C
’mon.” He wasn’t sure if she had dozed or was simply sprawled against him, as wrung out as he was. “Let’s go to bed.” He smoothed a hand from her shoulder to her wrist and gently tugged as he rolled to his feet. She came up with him, as smoothly as if they’d choreographed the motion. Without waiting for her legs to straighten completely to a standing position, he scooped her up and stepped over the minefield of clothing as he headed into the hallway.

Her arms looped around his neck and her legs wrapped to his waist as naturally as if they’d done this lover’s walk for a lifetime. However, her tits smashing to his chest, brushing ever so slightly with each step was like nothing he’d ever known. And the heady scent of their time together inhaled with each breath he took was another nothing he’d ever known.

By the time he tugged the layers of bed linens open, bounced her gently to the mattress, and followed her down, he was hard again. Staking a knee between her thighs, he hovered over her, letting the tips of her tits dance in a tantalizing brush against his chest as he rubbed his lips in a back and forth motion over hers.

“Again?” He knew the word was more of a wheedled plea than a whispered question.

“Again.” She agreed, as he’d been ninety percent sure she would.

He’d used the same tone, the same puppy dog eyes on her when he’d needed help cleaning the game room before his dad would let him go to the movies at twelve. When at fourteen, he’d talked her into taking the fall when his dad was in a rage over the burned out pump in the Jacuzzi—after all, in his father’s eyes, she never did anything worthy of anger.