Wilde Thing (12 page)

She danced out of his reach and shook her head. “Nope.”

“A cream cheese pastry? You know how much I love your pastries.” He lowered his gaze to her perfectly rounded breasts beneath the snug cotton T-shirt she wore, and waggled his brows lasciviously.

She laughed, the sound light and fun and infectious. “You’re a very naughty boy tonight, you know that?”

Since he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, except to Liz’s bedroom, he took off his leather jacket and tossed it onto a nearby bar stool and added his weapon and holster. “Would you have me any other way?”

“Absolutely not.” She licked her lips, leaving them wet and shiny. “I want you bad. And I want to be bad, too.”

“Sweetheart, you can be as bad as you want to be with me.” Judging by her frisky, flirtatious behavior, he knew their encounter tonight wasn’t going to be as intense as it had been last night, and he welcomed the playful change of pace.

Hands casually on his hips, he eyed the surprise she was still tempting him with, unable to contain his growing curiosity. “I really want to know what’s in that bag you’re holding.”

“Hmm. I think I’m going to make you wait and wonder what’s in here.” She sashayed away and set it on the counter that separated the small living room from the kitchen area. Then she turned to face him again, too much space separating them for Steve’s liking. “Before you find out what your surprise is, I have to ask, do you trust me to do whatever I want to you tonight?”

Her question was asked seriously, and for whatever reason, he realized his permission meant a lot to her. He spread his hands in front of him in a show of assent. “Baby, I’m all yours.”

“I want to be the one in control.” There was the tiniest defiant tilt to her chin, and her assertive and daring demeanor turned Steve on in a major way. “Is that going to be a problem for you?”

It was killing him, wondering what the hell was inside that bag and what wicked ideas she had in mind for him that she needed to secure his agreement to be the one in charge. While he enjoyed being the dominant one when it came to sex, he had no qualms letting her be the aggressor. He found her confidence extremely sexy, and what man in his right mind would balk at being at this woman’s mercy?

Certainly not he.

Unable to resist her allure, he gave himself over to her safekeeping. “Consider me your obedient servant tonight.”

A soft, secretive smile curved her lips. “Then come with me.”

“Oh, I plan to,” he promised.

She lifted a chastising brow at the sexual connotation lacing his reply and held out her hand for him to take, making her meaning very clear. She wanted him to follow her.

He stepped toward her, placed his palm against hers, and was amazed by the surge of warmth and tenderness that engulfed him when she entwined their fingers.

He let her lead the way to her bedroom, and he glanced back at the white bag they were leaving behind. “Aren’t we forgetting something?”

“Be patient.” She tugged him along. “We’ll get to your surprise soon enough.”

Once they were inside her room, she released their hands and said, “Take your shoes and socks off for me.”

He watched in avid interest as Liz went to the old oak dresser against the opposite wall while he unlaced his boots, toed them off, then removed his socks. She rummaged through the drawers and, seconds later, turned toward him, running a pair of sheer black pantyhose through her fingers—and damned if the thought of what she might do with those stockings didn’t send a rush of insidious heat settling in his groin.

He didn’t bother asking what the long length of black nylon was for, because he highly doubted she’d tell him, and he was certain he’d find out very soon anyway.

Tossing the intimate apparel onto the lavender comforter on the mattress, she came to him again, her posture determined and an air of sensuality surrounding her. Without preamble, she tugged his shirt from the waistband of his jeans, and he helped her work the material up and over his head and off. Holding his gaze, and with her teeth tugging on her lower lip, she flattened her hand in the center of his chest and skimmed her cool palm downward, her fingers dragging over his
ribs and taut abdomen. She didn’t stop there, and he gave a raw moan of pleasure as her fingers curled along the thick length of his erection confined behind denim.

His body jerked in response when she stroked him, and it was all he could do not to rip her clothes off and take her right there, on the floor.

“Where are the extra condoms from last night?” he rasped, trying to remember the important things before she totally blew his mind—and other body parts exploded, as well.

“You don’t need …” She cut herself off abruptly and shook her head. “Never mind. I put them in the nightstand drawer.”

She glanced away but not before he glimpsed what looked suspiciously like hesitancy in her gaze, which contradicted the unabashed woman she’d been thus far. With a finger beneath her chin, he turned her face back to his. “What were you going to say?” His tone was firm—demanding, even.

She sighed. “That you don’t need them. I’m still on the Pill.” She shrugged, the gesture self-conscious. “It keeps me regular, and I just thought…”

He put his fingers over her soft, damp lips, stopping her before she could say more. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t have sex without a condom. Ever. I guarantee I’m safe in every way, and I trust you are, too, but I have a daughter from my first marriage, and I learned the hard way that there is never such a thing as too much protection.”

Her eyes widened at the personal information that had slipped out before he could censure his words. But instead of asking the questions he saw glimmering in her gaze, she obviously decided that his previous marriage wasn’t a good source of conversation to bring up when they were on the verge of being intimate.

So instead, she wrapped her arms around his neck and brought his mouth down to hers to finish the kiss
he’d started in the entryway. Except this time he let her dictate everything about the embrace and followed along willingly as the pressure of her mouth parted his lips and her tongue slipped inside to tangle with his. Her fingers threaded through the hair at the nape of his neck, her breasts crushed against his chest, and the carnal mating of their mouths generated enough heat to make them both spontaneously combust.

Needing more direct contact, he slid his hands down her sides and over her hips, but before he could grasp her bottom and lift her into his erection, she pulled her mouth away and grabbed his wrists, halting his attempt to take over the reins of her seduction—something he hadn’t even realized he was doing until she’d stopped him.

She pushed him back until the mattress hit the crease of his knees and he had no choice but to sit.

And watch as she stripped for him.

Just out of grabbing distance, she kicked off her sexy heeled sandals, then pulled her shirt over her head and dropped it to the floor. Next, she reached behind her back to unhook her bra, and as soon as the catch came undone, her breasts spilled free, lush and voluptuous, the tight points of her nipples jutting toward him as if begging for his touch.

Resisting the urge, he curled his hands into fists on his jean-clad thighs. He got the distinct impression she was testing his control, and he refused to let his restraint snap when she’d made it clear this was her show tonight.

She unzipped her capri pants and shimmied them over her hips, down her thighs, and off her long, slender legs, leaving her wearing nothing more than a pair of bikini panties and a come-hither smile that nearly unraveled his resolve. He waited for her to remove that last scrap of fabric so he could look his fill of her, but she had something else in mind.

“Lie back on the bed,” she told him, and made another quick trip to the dresser to clip up her hair while he positioned himself in the center of the mattress.

She returned to the foot of the bed, and he stared at the fascinating sway of her breasts as she crawled up and over his prone form. His lips parted as he anticipated the taste of those nipples in his mouth, until she straightened and straddled his torso. The moist heat of her sex scorched him, even through the cotton barrier separating their bare flesh. This time, impulse won over, and he trailed the tips of his fingers up the inside of her thighs, until she gave him a stern look he decided to heed.

An impish grin made an appearance. “You can’t straddle my stomach like this and not expect me to touch.”

“No?” She picked up the stockings and brushed the silky nylon over his chest and across his nipples. “Put your hands above your head and grab on to the brass rungs of my headboard.”

Oh, boy.
He exhaled hard, did as he was told, and endured the torment of her leaning over him, her breasts inches away from his face but just out of reach of his mouth, as she wrapped the nylon around his wrists and secured him to one of the rungs with a very impressive knot.

He remembered restraining her for his pleasure last night, and he wasn’t sure he liked being on the receiving end of bondage when he was a man who enjoyed touching and participating on every physical level. “Do you really need to tie me up?”

“You already proved that you can’t keep your hands to yourself.” She scooted down the length of him until her knees bracketed his thighs, and went to work unbuckling his belt, unfastening the snap of his jeans, and carefully lowering the zipper over his burgeoning shaft.

Grasping the waistband of his jeans and briefs, she pulled both downward, and he lifted his hips to accommodate
her. When the last of his clothes were off, she added them to the pile on the floor and returned her attention to his stiff erection, which reminded him of a rocket ready for takeoff. At least, that’s how he was feeling at the moment.

Seemingly fascinated with that part of his male anatomy, she brushed the pads of her fingers over the sensitive, plum-shaped head of his penis, and it twitched in response.

“Awww, isn’t he cute,” she murmured.

Incredulous laughter rumbled up from Steve’s chest.
“Cute?”
Certainly there were better, more masculine adjectives to describe the most fundamental part of his manhood.

“Yeah, cute,” she decided with a playful nod of her head. She kissed two of her fingers and transferred that affectionate gesture to the swollen tip of his cock. “Don’t worry,
big guy,
you’ll get your share of attention tonight.”

He groaned, unable to believe she was talking to his penis. And when she moved off him and started back out the door, he couldn’t believe that she was going to leave him alone, all trussed up to her bed—in the buff. “Hey, where are you going?”

“I’ll be right back with your surprise,” she said over her shoulder.

Her pert, panty-clad backside disappeared out the door, leaving him in a surreal state of bemusement and curiosity. When she returned minutes later, she was carrying a plastic squeeze bottle filled with a golden-hued substance.

He eyed the unidentifiable stuff as she set the container on the nightstand. “What is that?” he asked tentatively.

She shimmied out of her panties. Without an ounce of modesty, she straddled his middle again, and his voracious and admiring gaze took in all her naked glory—from her high, full breasts, along her waist and hips, to
her spread thighs and the view of the thatch of darkblond hair covering her sex.

“You wanted caramel, and you’re gonna get it.” She reached for the squeeze bottle and squiggled a line of sticky syrup from his breastbone to each of his nipples.
“Lots
of it. Rich and sweet and seductive.”

The caramel was warm and silky against his skin, and the heady exhilaration of what she was about to do to him made him burn from the inside out. “Hey, I thought this was my fantasy, remember?” He’d been the one to bring up caramel earlier on the phone. “You should be the one who’s tied to the bed, not me.”

“Too late for that, don’t you think?” She raised her eyes to his, a suggestive smile on her lips as she finger-painted the slick-textured caramel over his chest, across his rigid nipples, and down the line of his abdomen. “Besides, this is still your fantasy, but with a bit of a twist that lets me be the one in control. I’m going to eat
you
up.”

The fragrant scent of buttery caramel filled his senses, and he groaned, certain he’d died and gone to heaven. She scooted a bit lower to continue a drizzling path of syrup down to his navel, and his erection slid along the crease of her buttocks. For a brief moment he wished his hands were free, so he could lift her hips and pull her down the last few inches and thrust inside her, and make her ride him hard and fast.

But he couldn’t do anything but surrender to her slow, arousing ministrations, and that heightened his excitement, too.

Once she was finished painting him with the decadent treat, she leaned forward, ran her lips over a taut pectoral muscle, then took a soft, ravenous bite from his flesh. She groaned at the sweet taste filling her mouth, and a hot, wild tremor rippled through him in response.

Her sensual gaze lifted to his, and the smile that
etched her expression was a combination of exhilaration and pure bliss, as if she were under the influence of a very potent aphrodisiac. As he watched, her pink tongue dipped down, swirling once again through the sweet mess she’d made on his chest, and lower. She found his rigid nipple and nipped at the sensitive disk, and that stab of erotic sensation spiraled all the way down to his groin.

She continued to lap at him and unhurriedly kissed her way down his torso to his belly, and kept nibbling her way lower with soft, delicious bites and the scrape of her teeth along his caramel-coated skin, eating him up like he was one big seductive dessert for her to feast on and enjoy. He was so lost in the fantasy she’d created that when she finally sat up again, he realized she was sitting astride his thighs like a pagan, her hungry gaze taking in his jutting, aching sex.

Licking her lips, she reached for the bottle of caramel and poured a generous amount in her hand, then rubbed her palms together, the enthusiastic light in her eyes making her intentions oh, so clear. She took him in her hands, her grasp slick and slippery as she measured the length of his cock in long, heated strokes that had him gritting his teeth in a painful kind of pleasure. Her thumbs grazed the lubricated head of his penis with every pass, drawing a fierce climax closer to the surface.