Under His Skin (12 page)

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

She patted his chest. “Easy, big boy. It’s hurting him, not us. It’s more annoying than anything else.”

“I hate that asshole.” He flattened her hand against his chest.

Her gaze flicked to his.

The last thing on her mind was Robert.

Brian grasped her elbow with his other hand and tugged. She could lean into him, but she had him sitting on her tattoo table. Standing, she put her knee on the cushion and threw her leg over his to straddle his lap. His hands dropped to her hips and pulled her against him. She could feel the thick ridge of his cock through his jeans.

Leaning down, she brushed a quick kiss across his lips, getting a hint of coconut on her mouth.

“Don’t tease me,” he growled.

Digging her fingers into his hair, she held him in place. Kissing him slowly, she licked over his lips and rolled her body against him, taking care not to apply pressure to the tattoo. Brian’s hands cupped her ass and squeezed.

She wanted him again, for days at a time where it was just them. No distractions, nothing from the outside world. Their own bubble, where the only thing that mattered was finding pleasure in his arms.

Ripping her lips from his, she sat back, completely dazed.

“We need food,” she said. “Food and go from there.”

And she needed to pick what ending she wanted for her night.

* * * * *

Pandora held her hands up to fend off Brian, only to have them captured and held down against the booth’s cushioned bench. Instead of the jolt of panic she expected, a laugh burst from her lips. Being caged between him and the wall sounded like the perfect place to be, if they weren’t in public.

She leaned away and watched him struggle to hold on to her wrists and spoon up some of the crepes. She was too old to be giggling and acting a fool with him in the middle of the pancake house, but it felt so damn good not to care about anything but having fun. With him.

“Come on, take a bite.” He bumped her lips with a spoonful of the fruity, sweet pastry.

She glared and pursed her lips. The syrup was cool against her mouth. It would be easy to let him feed her, to allow him to step into her life and sweep her off her feet, and she had a fairly good feeling he wouldn’t realize he was doing it. Fighting with him over feeding her was a step in the right direction. If she was going to do this, be with him even for a little while, it needed to be on her terms and it had to stay firmly rooted in fantasy. He couldn’t become part of her normal life.

He wedged the spoon between her teeth. One side of his mouth kicked up as he tilted the spoon. Gooey, cold juice dribbled over the side and dripped onto the swell of her breast.

She gasped at the sudden chill, and he slid the bite into her mouth. It was absurd, this juvenile dance they were doing, and she couldn’t help but laugh. He scooted closer and dipped his head to her cleavage. For this she held still. The sensation of his tongue sliding across the top of her breast sparked interest lower in her body.

They’d had sex before, she could even imagine calling what they’d done “making love,” except for the fact that they weren’t in love. They were in lust.

Twisting a hand out of his grasp, she pushed him back, thankful he went willingly. She licked the spoon clean and set it on the table, out of his reach for now.

The hold on her wrist eased and he twined his fingers with hers, causing her heart to do the dangerous pitter-pattering.

“Butt munch,” she said without venom.

He lifted her hand to his lips. “You like my ass.”

She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, praying she didn’t blush. She needed to take control of the situation before she devolved into a love-struck fool. She’d always care for Brian, even after he forgot her, but she could keep that separate from lust, couldn’t she? All she had to do was act on her urges.

Leaning forward, she grabbed the front of his t-shirt. “Your ass isn’t my favorite though.”

Maybe she’d surprised him. He didn’t stop her hand sliding down his chest and abs to rest on his groin, her palm covering the ridge of his cock. Brian’s head dropped back against the wall. His eyelashes made dark half circles against his cheeks.

Caressing him through his jeans with firmer strokes, she leaned forward and kissed his throat. His whole body shuddered under her touch.

Shifting against the cushions, she made a split-second decision.

“I want to do something I’ve never done before,” she whispered.

He swallowed hard and stared at her for a second. “Like what?”

The pulse under her lips fluttered. “Meet me in the bathroom in two minutes.”

Pushing the table back a little gave her enough room to slither over his lap. He made a grab for her ass, but she stepped out of reach. She gave him a flirty smile over her shoulder and headed for the bathroom.

It was wrong, but the thrill felt oh so good.

Slipping into the women’s bathroom, she double-checked that the door had a deadbolt. Using one of the stalls, she undid her jeans and took them off. The tunic t-shirt she’d tossed on that morning in a rush to get out of the door covered all the important bits.

Creeping back to the door, she waited. How would she know if he followed her? What if they were caught? Would he go through with it? She had to admit, the uncertainty added to the thrill.

She heard a muted masculine voice. “Pandora?”

Opening the door a hair, she peeked out. “Brian,” she hissed.

He pushed the door open with his shoulder, pressing her back against the wall. She stifled a giggle and reached past him to lock the door.

Arms wrapped around her waist and his body pressed against her from behind. His hands splayed across her body, one on her stomach, the other across her ribs. “What are you doing?” he asked against her neck, her hair offering little protection against his questing lips. “And where did your pants go?”

Twisting in his hold, she wrapped her arms around him and lifted up onto her tiptoes. “No talking,” she whispered. Grabbing his belt, she backed away toward the sinks. “We don’t want to get caught.”

Catching on, he pressed her against the cold porcelain. “As I recall, I’m not the loud one.”

Grinning, she undid his belt and his jeans slid down his hips a few inches. A quiet, concerned voice in her head wanted to ask why, but the rules were no talking.

“Why don’t—”

“Sh.” She laid a finger over his lips and shook her head.

Brian tilted his head to one side, a mischievous glint to his green eyes. Bending, he lifted her up and onto the sink. The coldness of the surface had her gasping and biting her lip to keep quiet.

He turned on the faucet of the sink next to her and left it running, then dipped his fingers into the water. Curious about what he would do, she watched him bring his damp hand to the crotch of her panties and press it against her.

A shock kicked her core. His hand was freezing. Scrabbling for a hold on the sink, she tried to lift her hips away from him but he held her down, massaging her through the fabric while his fingers slowly warmed.

Glaring at him had no effect. He grinned, looming over her body. His fingers curled, pressing a digit into her folds through her panties. Her mouth opened in a silent gasp.

Determined that two could play this game, she balanced on the edge of the sink and reached for his jeans. She didn’t bother with the zipper. She merely helped the downward descent along and took his underwear with them.

The hand at her core stilled when she freed his cock. Splashing her free hand in the water, she gripped his hard length with her cold, wet hand and pumped. He made a pained face and clicked his teeth together. She grasped him with her other hand, sliding her cold hand up his length and following it with her warm one. He rocked up on the balls of his feet, thrusting into her grip.

He intercepted her hand reaching for the water again and squeezed her wrist almost painfully. With his pursed lips and flashing eyes, he looked downright hot.

Pouting, she leaned forward, forcing him to steady her, and wrapped her legs around his thighs.

“We—”

“Sh.”

He released her hand and mouthed, “Front pocket.”

Dipping her hand into his jeans, she grabbed a condom packet. She took her time peeling the wrapper open, taking some joy in teasing him.

While she was preoccupied with slowly positioning the condom on his penis, Brian worked her shirt up to uncover her breasts and tucked the material into the straps. She eased the condom down his length and closed her eyes as he slid the cups of her bra out of the way and touched her bare skin. She arched her back, relishing the feel of him holding her.

His lips slid over her cheek, kissing the Monroe, while his hands took a southward plunge and pulled the crotch of her panties to one side, baring her to the cool air. Her gaze dropped to his cock. Her stomach fluttered.

Brian’s hand covered hers, bringing the head of his penis to her entrance. Heat blossomed in her cheeks and her breathing hitched. She had to stay quiet, even if she wanted to tell him to thrust deep, fuck her until she came.

He plunged into her body, tearing a moan from her lips. She’d rolled the memories of their last time around in her head often enough she wondered if she’d embellished them in her mind. But he felt the same as she’d remembered.

Shifting on the sink, she rolled her hips forward, forcing him deeper. Hitching her legs farther up his hips, she tightened her hold on him. They breathed in time, quiet panting sounds they tried and failed to muffle.

She watched his dick withdraw from her body and focused on the feel of it, the slow drag of his skin against hers, every ridge and bulge skimming over nerve endings. His hands gripped her hips and he surged forward, impaling himself so quickly it bordered on the brink of pleasure and pain.

Dropping her head back, she closed her eyes and concentrated on not making a noise.

Lips closed over hers, begging for kisses she freely gave.

Cold pinched her breast and she gasped into his mouth. She flinched from the pressure, Brian didn’t let her get away from him. He held his wet hand to her breast and rolled the peak between his fingers, grinning devilishly at her when she pried one eye open.

Her inner muscles clamped around him of their own volition and she watched as his eyes rolled back in his head. For a moment she thought he would pitch forward onto her. Wrapping her arms around his shoulders, she brought his face back to hers. His hand moved to her other breast and lavished the same attention to it, minus the shocking cold.

With their gazes locked, he slowly withdrew. She cupped his cheek, wanting to tell him to take it easy on his leg, but abiding by her own rules kept her from uttering the words she had yet to say.

He thrust and she buried her face against his shoulder, biting him to keep her cries muted. Again and again he pistoned into her, hitting the right spot each time so that it sent off a cascade of electric shocks. She could hear him gasping, his face turned against the crown of her head.

Aching for the precipice, she tilted her pelvis a little more. His cock continued to spear into her and it became too much. Her vision hazed and her fingers dug into his shoulder and hair. His mouth sought hers the moment before her muscles clamped down around his thrusting cock and spasmed. He jerked once, twice and bowed into her, clutching her hip and neck with bruising force.

Brian chuckled against her lips, a grin spread across his face. She giggled and reveled in the sense of completion being with him gave her.

Chapter Eight

Blackwork: A tattoo done in shades of black and gray only.

New School: Often cartoonish in design, it is a bright, colorful style.

Brian glanced at Pandora. She’d already sidestepped his attempt to touch her after their hurried exodus from the pancake house. He was utterly confused. Most girls were into the cuddling, hand-holding thing, especially after sex. But she walked an arm’s length away from him as they traversed the parking lot.

“Hey, I have something for you.” He clicked the fob on his keychain and unlocked his Jeep. Sitting on the floorboard was a bundle of roses. Grabbing them, he turned back to her. “Pandy? Hey, what’s wrong?”

Her eyes were glossy with tears, her lips pinched.

“Nothing.” She waved a hand at him and covered her mouth with the other.

He pulled her to his side and held her there, panic setting in. “Did I hurt you? What’s wrong?” His damn leg had nearly given out on him, twice. It never occurred to him that he had the strength anymore to hurt her.

“No,” she mumbled with her face buried against his shoulder.

“Are you sure?” If nothing was wrong, why was she crying? The plastic on the roses rustled as he shuffled his hold on her and the flowers.

She swatted his arm and pulled away. “Yes.”

“Pandy, I’m confused. Help a simple guy out?”

Taking a deep breath, she seemed to find her center. “I’m not supposed to get this emotional. It’s not you, it’s me.”

Cold dread gripped his stomach. “Don’t say that.” He tightened his arms around her. She resisted only a little bit, which he took as a good sign. “I hate that phrase. Why do you think there’s something wrong with you? I thought girls liked being in touch with emotions and stuff.”

“God, you’re such a guy,” she groused.

“What did I do wrong?”

Rolling her eyes she sighed in exasperation. “Why do you always think you did something wrong?”

“Because you’re perfect.” The words rolled off his tongue. He hadn’t meant to say them, but they were the truth. Sure she had her rough edges like everyone else, but he couldn’t have asked for someone who understood him better. She’d threatened to punch a rabid fan, to stand up for him.

Her jaw dropped and a tear raced down her cheek. His heart kicked up painfully. Wiping the tear away, he feathered his hand over her face.

“I’m sorry, whatever it is, I’m sorry,” he said in desperation.