“Daniel,” she murmured.
He groaned. He was still aroused, too, for she felt his erection strike her hipbone as he dragged himself over her. He bent to gently bite down on a nipple, and the erotic, sensual pull of his teeth on the very tip made her buck with a soft cry of need.
Her pussy was soaked, the juices dripping along the folds as he slid his length between her thighs, and her core clenched in anticipation. He must know what she felt like. That just twenty-four hours from last night to now had made her feverish, made her imagine all the ways he’d take her if she called him, made her still burn for more. Something whirled around them, empowering them, their naked bodies magnetized by an inexplicable force.
He seized her clit between his teeth and gently tugged, and she twisted as a barrage of pleasure overtook her. He licked into her, not minding that he must taste like himself mingled with her, and at the first firm push of his tongue into her channel, she almost went over the edge again, shuddering in heat.
He leaned back to view her pussy as he fondled it with his fingers, his eyes burning hot. Those same hot eyes coasted up her stomach to gaze at her breasts, the sheen of sweat on her body, like he wanted to lick her up inch by inch.
Desire flared hotly inside her as she took in his figure again, the thatch of blond curls from where his shaft rose, tall and proud. He looked marvelous, somehow bad and wicked and powerful. She tensed in anticipation, a tingling rush spreading to her toes when he parted her pussy with his thumbs and bent to lick her again.
She heard herself say his name as though she were out of her body, floating in bliss. She rubbed her hands over his shoulders, feeling the heat and resilience of his flesh against her fingers. Her nipples pushed high into the air, almost painfully jealous of his tongue. Jealous of where his hands were, against the insides of her thighs. Jealous of his tongue and the way he was using it to make love to her pussy.
She didn’t know how many licks he gave her, but every cell in her body felt the thrusts of his tongue as it probed her, tasted her, fucked her. Her skin tightened in delicious agony, her muscles clenching until she snapped and tossed her head, pumping beneath him, sobbing in pleasure.
He growled to her in answer and lapped the juices flowing from her orgasm, and it struck her with such force her legs swung closed and he urged them apart with his shoulders as he penetrated her with his tongue, the pleasure absolute. Exquisite. The second he added his fingers into her channel, she heard herself almost choke with a bubbling sound that erupted from her chest, her breasts throbbing to be kissed and caressed, too, and suddenly, she came again in his mouth.
After he pushed her through that unexpected orgasm, he came up to fiercely kiss her mouth, making her eat all of her pleasure from him. “I’ve still got more for you, Monica.”
She nodded in gratefulness and bit her lip to keep from moaning, was still shaking with arousal. What was wrong with her? What was happening to her? She ached to feel his erection in her body. In all the places he wanted to put it. She whimpered needily as he tore open another condom packet, and as he sheathed himself, she noticed there were still some more packets on the nightstand. Monica didn’t know how many he’d brought but the thought that he’d been expecting to fuck her more than made her want to whimper and beg him to use them all on her.
He rolled her onto her stomach and flattened her down on the bed, caressing the curves of her buttocks, his voice thick with desire.
“There, that’s better,” he said into her ear from behind, the slide of his large hands along her spine, her bottom, sending a new surge of arousal surging through her. “I can hit your G-spot from here, and it’ll set you off like a rocket,” he murmured, his voice rough and raw, completely alien to her. He teased the slit of her pussy down between her slightly parted legs with his thumb, gently prodding it for wetness.
She fought to breathe and, although she was still flat on the bed, she slightly lifted her buttocks, seeking his touch.
He seized her wrists and urged her hands up, forcing her fingers to curl around the forged iron headboard. “Hold on here in case I push harder than you expect,” he murmured, sticking his tongue into her ear quickly, shooting a bolt of pleasure down her legs.
She held on, her knuckles white from the force of her grip. Her entire body trembled in eagerness, in need, and she wondered if you could want something so badly and not break, not come apart from it. He used one hand to pass along her breasts, then one down to stroke her pussy. His chest pressed into her back as he caressed her clitoris, and it felt so sensitive, the air hissed out of her.
He groaned against her neck, and she felt his teeth, tugging at the skin between her neck and collarbone as his cock settled between her ass cheeks, rubbing there and sweetly torturing her with his hardness. His nearness. “Your pussy’s so wet, the honey keeps coming out,” he said as he pulled her to her knees, while her cheek still rested against the pillow.
She was so aroused she felt tears in her eyes. He tunneled his fingers into her cleft and then rubbed them along the length of his hard shaft, lubricating himself with her sex juices.
She whimpered anxiously, her sex swelling in anticipation, waiting for him. His cock was so big she feared now nothing would fill her anymore but him. He was so much a man she dreaded she would always feel empty without him inside her. “Daniel.”
He opened her cheeks apart and looked down at her. “You’re anxious, I know, I’ll make you come soon.”
She nodded, already perspiring in anticipation, her heart thundering in her ears. She’d never wanted all these things. She’d never even thought she could have them. Now she thought she’d die if he didn’t give them to her. He smeared her pussy cream into his cock and then she felt him part her with his length.
Her muscles seemed to close around him, her pussy rippling as she sucked him in deeper.
“Daniel,” she begged, rocking her hips back to him. His fingers of one hand stroked across her tingling clitoris, and then she felt his other hand grab and squeeze one of her ass cheeks.
Her body strained, close to the breaking point as he stretched her pussy open with his cock, while both hands stroked and caressed the flesh of her buttocks now. When he squeezed her ass and pushed deep into her G-spot, she cried out in ecstasy and gripped the headboard tighter as he withdrew his cock, then plunged back in to the hilt again. Her muscles contracted; her chest, her toes, her lungs. One hand slid down her abdomen to burrow along her nub, and the speed of his fingers increased in motion, his thumb grazing her clit, stroking it, circling it, then—pushing it.
Already the pleasure of his cock so deeply embedded was absolute, mingling with pain, every second prolonged by his slow, utterly slow, withdrawal, then his fast, jarring penetration.
Flames burned her on the inside as she heard his breath, close to her ear. “God, Monica…,” he said with a groan, taking her earlobe and sucking it. “You’re so damned tight around me.”
He delved fully inside and his thumb pressed deeper into the tender nubbin, the fingers of the other hand clenching and massaging one ass cheek.
It was too much, too sensual, too much stimulation, sensory overload—his raspy breath, his touch, his cock throbbing and dragging inside her, his thumb, his fingers.
“Oh, oh, oh…” She screamed as ecstasy ripped through her, sizzling along her nerves as she convulsed underneath him. He barked out and thrust one more time inside her, and she felt the heat of his semen in quick, successive jerks.
They convulsed for long, frenzied seconds, then Monica fell utterly still, chest heaving for air, Daniel still inside her, at her neck, licking her like some sort of feline who’d just mated.
It felt like they had mated. Not fucked.
She stiffened at the thought, dreading to think about it, and she thought Daniel noticed. He couldn’t have missed it, was too ruthless and too smart not to.
He chuckled softly as he rolled her aside and dropped his face down to her, taking a minute until their b
reaths settled. “Don’t worry. We’ll keep it simple.” He kissed her temple as he withdrew, then quietly arranged himself and pulled the covers over her, tucking her in.
“Thank you,” she said weakly as he bent over her, her heart doing a strange vault in her chest. She cupped his face with a special tenderness she’d always felt for nobody but him. “I’m so glad I didn’t do valerian.”
He turned his head into her hand and faintly kissed the center of her palm, murmuring something unintelligible which she thought was, “So am I,” then he rewarded her with a perfect view of his backside as he went to get dressed.
Her mouth watered from the sweetly stirring sight.
Perfect male buttocks, round and muscled, with those sexy dimples at the back of his hip flexors.…
Her body stirred again, and she closed her eyes to block it. This couldn’t be. God, she really needed to get a grip on herself.
The rustling of clothes stopped, and an odd heaviness settled in her chest. Strange. But the thought of him leaving wasn’t truly giving her the relief she’d sought. She parted her eyes open.
“Danny, my board meets tomorrow…” She found him finishing buttoning his shirt, and her windpipe swelled at the sight of his mouth, a little swollen, and his hair, a little undone. “Are … are you coming?” she said, getting back to her business.
He raked a hand through his tousled hair as though to fix it. “I already came.” He winked, then headed for the door with a chuckle. “Of course, Monica. I’ll see you before noon.”
She flung the pillow at him, laughing, then she laughed harder when he caught it easily and flung it back, where it slapped her right on the head.
“Oops. Sweet dreams, princess,” he said from the door, and she could hear his laughter in his voice.
She lowered the pillow. “You, too, sweet prince. You’re the epitome of Disney’s guys in tights, Your Highness.”
“I hate being called goddamned ‘prince’ and you know it, Ice Queen!” he shouted from the hall.
“It’s Ice Maiden, sir! Or at least it was until you thoroughly deflowered me. But all right then, good night, Mr. Lexington. Thanks for the great service!”
She laughed since she knew he hated to be called prince and now that she’d implied he was a male escort, he would probably like it even less. Ha ha. She snuggled into the pillow he’d almost knocked her unconscious with and closed her eyes, impulsively smelling it, her scent mingled with his. Now if only she could catch some shut-eye.…
* * *
Holy God, was he going to have a boner for the rest of his life, or what?
Daniel deeply regretted leaving Monica’s apartment at midnight. Now he lay, alone and sleepless, in his own bed, and by three a.m. even valerian started looking good to him.
He rolled facedown on a groan, his body tortured, the scent of Monica’s sex imprinted in his nostrils, the scent of her skin, her hair, the place behind her ears where she had rubbed her fragrance, spinning in his head in a heady mix that wouldn’t let him relax a single inch of his frame, much less sleep.
He hadn’t wanted to come home.
He’d wanted to tease her all night, hear her laugh like he hadn’t heard her laugh in so long, and then just the thought of their bantering made him hot all over again.
Even after their orgasms, he was about to explode. Monica’s naked body was embedded in his head like a brand, and the memory of her lying on her bed after coming was burning him at the stake. His heart raced as he remembered how good she’d felt when he’d fucked her, and though he tried to draw in a couple of calming breaths, it was no use.
He’d never been this hard. He couldn’t wait to put his hands all over her again. Kiss her.
Usually he enjoyed prolonging, when it came to pleasure. Making his partners wait in building anticipation; the barrage of hormones he made them feel obliterated anyone, anything before him … until there was only him.
But the torture now was on him.
Her breasts … his mouth ached to suckle them again.
Her pussy lips were the prettiest he’d ever seen.
Shaking, barely able to move, he rolled on the bed, remembering how she’d begged his name after he’d played with her with the ice. An ice for his Ice Maiden.…
Jesus, had she melted that little sucker to the ground.
He remembered crawling down her, how he’d immediately heard her breathing intensify as he parted her thighs to lick her orgasm. He’d heard her gasp in anticipation. Her pupils had dilated, her breasts were heaving, and he had all but stopped breathing for he had never, ever, been so fiercely turned on.
“Daniel…,” she’d whimpered.
His balls had contracted with a need so violent, he’d almost choked. “Shh…,” he thinks he had said, but he couldn’t remember, only knew they’d just come and needed to come again, and he’d shoved his shoulders between her thighs and went straight to eat her up. He’d flicked out his tongue, quickly tasting the outside of her slit—soaked, creamy—he dipped inside her with a languid stroke, and her sweet little cunt burned around his tongue, tight as hell and so damned slippery, his cock twitched to fill her up again.
He growled as her taste invaded him, mixing with his own, but it didn’t matter … it just didn’t … what mattered was that her hips had been tilting desperately toward his, and she was so worked up it took only three flicks; the third time he pushed his tongue into her channel she’d exploded.
She came so hard her thighs closed around his face and he pushed them open again by shoving his shoulders higher and speared her through her orgasm, doubling the pleasure, glorying in her cries of ecstasy.
When he added fingers into her sheath, a bubbling sound erupted from her chest, and she tossed her head, her eyes glazed with lust, her nipples poking into the air—and she came again.
His balls strained in memory, gathered high and heavy against his cock. He felt so full he was leaking semen from the tip, throbbing painfully for her, liquid lava rushing through his veins.
She had still been shuddering as he surged upward and grabbed her, so full he’d almost exploded just licking her. “I’ve still got more for you, Monica…”
She’d been extremely aroused when he took her from behind. She’d cried with passion—with need. Blazing hot and incredibly wet for him. He’d never imagined Monica would lose herself like this to him.
Pulsing pain radiated through his dick, his scrotum growing so much heavier he feared he would drown her with his semen the next time he fucked her.
His mouth ached to taste her breasts with his mouth, suddenly deciding he hadn’t given them as much attention as he’d have liked.
His back ached from places she’d scratched him and he loved it so much, he wanted to have more of those scratches all over.
He’d desperately wanted to spend the night with her so he could only refill his load, wake up, and fill her up with him again. But neither of them were people who slept over. Daniel had never allowed a woman to sleep over before, and he’d never stayed to make chitchat with them in their homes. But he’d wanted to stay with Monica. He’d held her before when she slept, all those years ago. He bet he was still the only man in the world who’d ever done that. The thought tangled in his chest until he knotted with a need that seemed violent.
He considered for the tenth time helping himself to some relief, but his hand was big and manly, not delicate and soft like hers. He could get off with her scent alone, with hearing another of the delicate sounds that stole from her throat and made her seem almost surprised that she’d made them.
Monica.
You arouse the hell out of me, Monica.…
Hell, she aroused him in any and all the ways a man could be aroused. Emotionally. Mentally. Physically.
She and Daniel were similar in more ways than one. In business, they both had the hearts of a shark. In relationships, they both exhibited cool disinterest toward their partners and saw them as only passing entertainment, and nothing truly
meaningful. They were both media darlings, both workaholics, but in the only way that counted, they were opposites. Male and female. And his male was wild about her. His male had never encountered in his life a woman to even remotely resemble his reactions to her.…
He rolled off the bed and slipped into a pair of pajama bottoms, then padded bare-chested to his computer room. The screens were up digitally on a blank wall, projected with lasers, on the other side of the computers, a total of a dozen screens surveyed the parking lot, the streets, others highlighting his darkened office, the elevators to Tritech, the building.
He pressed his fingerprint to the computer keyboard, digitally hovering in the air, and subtly murmured, “Monica Davenport.”
A female voice broke out.
Searching for …
A total of 142,321 results.
“Scan most recent, display all.”
All twelve computer screens lit up, each portraying a different article about her. He touched a screen and zoomed in on the image of her with Roland Gustafson. Old money. Country-club type of man. Widowed with a son already in college. Monica was a comet compared to that dull bug-eyed toad.
Daniel loathed the man, especially the way he’d always been sniffing Monica’s skirts. He didn’t know if the man wanted some of Monica’s solid financial footing, or if he just wanted himself a trophy wife. But Monica had said they’d be discussing their relationship when he returned from London.
Good luck with that, princess. I’m not letting you go back to your mummy this time.
Focusing back on the screens, he moved his fingers over the timeline, and surveyed back in time, five years ago, six …
He stopped at an article: LEXINGTON AND DAVENPORT WEDDING?
They’d been caught having lunch at the Four Seasons, and gossip had spread like a forest fire. During those couple of months after the death of her parents, there were months were there was not a mention of one of them—either Daniel or Monica—without the other being mentioned. Press speculation had been aplenty.