Where You Least Expect (11 page)

Feeling won.

With a boldness that sprang from need, she pressed herself closer to him, smashing her unrestrained breasts against the hard wall of his pecs, her soft midsection against the rippled ridge of his. And then she linked her arms around his broad back, letting her hands move of their own will up and down his sculpted shoulders, molding the muscles there and down his back.

He tightened his hold in response and intensified the seeking movement of his tongue, moaning when she swiped hers against his, mimicking his own actions. The hardness pressed against her intensified, and he moved even closer, leaving not a millimeter between them. When she shifted, sliding her abdomen against that prominent bulge, he moaned again and then, to her extreme sadness, broke their kiss and stepped away from her, pressing himself against the hallway wall.

Her first thought was that he’d come to his senses, her second that she couldn’t imagine how she’d get out of here without looking at him. She was frozen, the warring horror and arousal that coursed through her making movement impossible.

“Verna,” he said, and the thick, garbled word along with the hard, panted exhales that had his chest rising and falling in a rough rhythm made her look up.

The desire she saw in his eyes was breathtaking. Even she, lack of experience and all, couldn’t deny the primal need that lit his gaze. Without further thought, she lifted a hand and rested it on his chest, the hot skin, hard muscle and underneath, his booming heart, its beat pulsing through it in a wave.

“Are you sure?”

Sure? She’d never wanted anything more in her entire life. She nodded her response.

“I need to hear it. I need you to say the words.”

If that was what he needed, she’d gladly give it. “Yes, Joe. I’m sure. I want you. Right now.”

Her voice was as thick as his, the passion-roughened tone one she’d never heard come from her own mouth. For a moment, he stayed still, leaning against the wall, the rise and fall of his chest his only movement. And then he narrowed his eyes, and in a flash he reached for her and recaptured her in his embrace. But this time, his passion had a purpose, and as he kissed her, alternating between soft pecks and rougher, breath-stealing kisses, he moved them both toward his bedroom.

The world around them was a blur to her, Joe and the things he was doing to her with his lips and hands seeming the only thing that mattered, and before she could even form a thought, she felt herself falling, the fall broken by his soft mattress. And then his heavy weight was on her, and Verna’s mind and body struggled to process the feelings that raced through her. She was sure she’d never felt anything as wonderful as Joe’s beautiful body against hers, but then he snaked his hands under her sweatshirt, and she knew she’d been wrong.

His hands, hot and rough and soft all at the same time, brushed up her midsection, so distracting that she forgot to be embarrassed. She couldn’t be, not when Joe was touching her like this, making it impossible for her to think of anything but him and what he’d do next. When he reached her breasts, she exhaled, the scrape of his fingers against her flesh practically wringing the air from her lungs. And when he rasped those fingers against her nipples, she arched, nearly bucking him off.

He huffed a breath of air, and she lifted her heavy-lidded eyes to look up at him, a bit startled by the fierce, unrelenting intensity that was reflected back at her. Without breaking her gaze, he repeated the motion and again her body jerked at the sensation. When she leaned into his touch, undulating her body so that her nipples moved against his hands, his eyes darkened and his face went hard, as did the rest of his body.

With one rough final peck of his lips against hers, he left her, sliding his body down hers, the sensation of him powerful even through the layers that separated them. When he reached her waist, he tucked two fingers in both sides of her waistband and then continued down, pulling the fabric with him. Down her legs he went, peppering her rounded thighs, her knees, her calves with kisses until he pulled the pants off. Then he stood, staring down at her, his face still a mask of determination and intensity.

What little moisture was left in her throat dried when he grabbed the hem of his own shirt and lifted it over his head, the muscles in his abdomen and sides pulling tight with his efforts. Verna drank him in with her eyes, her gaze floating off the slabs of his pectorals, the defined ridges of his abs, the dark dusting of hair that covered his chest and stomach. He watched her as she watched, his face still intense.

“Open,” he said, and his gaze flitted down to her legs, resting on the curve of her mound before he lifted it back to her eyes.

His voice was firm, his intention clear, but Verna felt her nerves flare to life. It was one thing to have him stroke her breasts, kiss her, but could she expose herself to his scrutiny this way? The set of his jaw, so handsome, so Joe, told her he wouldn’t move a muscle until she complied, and the thought of him not touching her again, of him leaving her on this ragged edge, was far worse than the alternative.

Slowly, she lifted her legs until her feet rested on the mattress. Then, even more slowly, she opened, moving first her knees, then her thighs apart until she felt the first rush of cold air hit her now exposed pussy lips. But the cold faded with the heat of Joe’s gaze as he took her in, his features set in rigid concentration but the faintest ghost of a smile now hovering over his lips. Then he returned his gaze to hers, and she bit her lip when he hooked his fingers in his own waistband. Her eyes were riveted to the motion as he pulled his sweatpants down his flat stomach and then lower, first exposing a dark thatch of hair and then the sun-kissed pink of his shaft.

He maneuvered the pants down lower, allowing his cock to spring free and giving her first sight of him, his long, thick shaft capped by a rounded head that glistened with moisture in the semidarkness of the room, his heavy sac hanging beneath it. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from him, wanted to trace every vein and ridge, every centimeter of that beautiful, powerful flesh, with her gaze. But he wasn’t content to stand under her gaze, for he retraced his earlier path, alternating legs and kissing at her calves, then her knees, then her thighs.

When he rested his head at the juncture of her thighs and stared up at her, his warm breath rasping over her sensitive skin, it was all she could do to hold back a scream, of desire or frustration, she couldn’t decide. She wasn’t able to suppress her squirm as his breaths tickled over her lips, the moisture that had gathered there joined by fresh issue as the moment stretched and her desire intensified to overwhelming.

And then he kissed her, one simple peck at the crease between her thigh and her lower lips, and the sensation ricocheted through her, her legs opening even wider in a desperate plea for more. She hadn’t come, but the pleasure she felt now was more intense than any she’d ever brought herself with her own hands. If he’d managed this with a word and a kiss, she shivered with anticipation of what he’d be able to accomplish with his hands, with his cock.

“Later,” he whispered, his breathed word across her pussy making her moan.

Then he slid up her body, his hardness against her softness, a contrast that she wanted more of. When he’d lined them up so that his hips were pressed against hers, the insistent throb of his cock against her thigh driving her to further distraction, he stared down at her, his eyes a combustible mix of heat and intensity, and she couldn’t help but rock against him, seeking further contact. The weight of his body made it hard to move, but she could tell he understood her need, and that he felt the same.

“Touch me.”

His whispered words unleashed her, and in a frenzy, she touched every inch of his exposed skin, tracing his arms, his back, the hard muscles of his ass. And then she moved her hands over his abdomen and then finally brushed them against his cock. His hitched breath emboldened her, and, her gaze still connected to his, she touched him again, tracing the tips of her fingers across the velvet skin of his shaft, across his crown slick with precum, the newness of the action and of the sensation not dissuading her. She let her instincts and his reactions guide her, and after a few swipes, she wrapped her fingers around his thick shaft, gripping him tight in one hand while she gingerly grasped his balls in the other. He hitched another breath, the sounds only intensifying as she worked him faster and faster, precum spilling out of him and onto her hands.

“Enough,” he said on a panted groan as he pulled her hands away. “This will be over before it starts if you keep that up.”

Verna had thought they were pretty well started, but she didn’t contradict him and didn’t have the voice to anyway, especially not when he trailed a hand down her belly and rested it between her thighs. He swiped his thumb against her clit and used two fingers to spread her lips. Then he pressed one inside her, pushing it in and then pulling it out in a slow, steady motion that had her squirming beneath him, desperate for more.

“More, Joe!” she barked out, the harshness of her voice surprising her.

But he just chuckled. “There’s my girl.”

She huffed out a grunt that was half pleading and half warning, and he was finally kind enough to oblige her by adding another finger to the first and pumping harder, the slight burn and fullness she now felt in no way distracting from the mind-blowing pleasure. Somewhere off in the distance, she heard what sounded like a drawer opening, but she paid it no heed, Joe and his fingers the sole focus of her attention. When he pushed into her one last time and then retreated, she grabbed at his hand, futilely trying to move it back to where it had been. He chuckled again, and after a few deft movements, he lowered his hand between their bodies.

Realization dawned, and Verna stilled, a little flare of anticipation laced heavily with nerves sparking in her chest. But all that fled when Joe, gripping his cock in his right hand, traced it against her wet lips and then began gently probing at her opening. Then he pushed against her, the broad head of his cock piercing her. She didn’t know whether to push back against him or retreat, so she stayed as she was, trusting Joe and being rewarded for that wise decision.

The feel of his hardness spearing her was beyond anything she had imagined. As she gripped his shoulders, he pushed inside her with a steady, unrelenting thrust, and as her walls opened to receive him, she sighed out. When she glanced up at him, he stared at her intently, his restraint clear in the straining muscles of his arms, which stood stark and tight. They both cried out when he was buried deep inside her, and at the pulsing throb of his cock inside her, she grasped at his arms, desperate to move, have him move, to do
something
.

When he pulled back and pushed inside her again, a shock of pleasure so intense it bordered on pain shot through her, and the feeling was only compounded as he continued to move. She slammed her eyes shut, sad that she could no longer see him but needing some defense against the sensation that threatened to overwhelm her. The lack of sight gave her a different perspective and made her other senses more acute, the sound of his breath as he grunted his pleasure, his warm, slick skin against her palms, the hardness of his lean hips against her thighs as she cradled him, wrapping her legs tighter around his waist to pull him closer.

“Verna,” he whispered against her lips before he captured her mouth with his. The sound of her name on his lips, his voice tight and strained and filled with ecstasy was her undoing. She shattered around him, moaning her pleasure into his mouth and then out into the air when he broke their kiss. She pulsed around him, her cunt spasming in an erratic little beat, slick wetness seeping out of her and coating both of them with her essence.

“Joe. Joe.” Again and again she repeated his name, almost in a chant, as she rode the wave that he’d set off inside her. And when his body went taut and he cried out his own climax, she wrapped her arms around him, locked her ankles together and held as shiver after shiver racked his body and his cock went stone-hard inside her.

They stayed that way, her wrapped around him, his heavy body pushing her into the mattress, for as long as they could, so long that her legs were almost numb from the exertion and her heart had almost returned to a normal rhythm. She sighed when he slipped out of her, both at the loss of him and at the slight ache he left in his wake. He rolled away from her, presumably to discard the condom, but in an instant he was back, his warm body resting against hers.

Chapter Nine

If pressed, Joe wouldn’t have been able to articulate what had compelled him to kiss Verna, to make no mention of what had compelled him to kiss her again and then take her. He could acknowledge that his heart had been lodged in his throat when she hadn’t come home, a million scenarios as to what might have happened to her out there running through his mind. And he could also acknowledge that each of those scenarios, Verna hurt or in danger or vulnerable, or cold and alone and afraid, had hit like physical blows. It made finding her and bringing her home, making sure she was okay, an imperative that he would not stop until he’d fulfilled.

And when she’d run into him in the hallway, she’d called to him, and he’d responded, the relief at knowing she was safe supplanted by fierce and undeniable desire. He’d kissed her before, but the explosion of passion when he’d touched his lips against hers had caught him off guard. The more he’d kissed her, the more he’d wanted to kiss her; the more of her generous, soft curves he molded under his hands, the more he’d wanted to touch her, and when he’d buried himself inside her, the pleasure he’d felt was only outpaced by the sense of rightness that had stolen over him.