Her toes curled. Her stomach quivered. Mmmm, that felt so delicious.
Without her quite realizing it, he transferred both her wrists into one of his hands, so he could move his long fingers over her left breast.
“No bra,” he whispered in approval. “Damn, you are stacked.”
Yes, “the girls” had always been one of her best physical features. No surprise that Baxter would focus there.
Then he lightly touched his mouth to hers again. “I love this sassy, sarcastic mouth, too. Your lips are so soft.”
The lips he teased parted in surprise.
“Mmm.” His tongue traced just inside. “Do you know how hot you are when you’re giving me hell?”
That had to be a joke...right? Hard for her to think clearly when he went back to kissing her while still cuddling her breast, occasionally scraping the tips of his fingers over her thrusting nipple.
Somehow—because he was diabolical—he also got his muscled thigh between her legs, pressing against her most heated spot. She inhaled sharply and he sealed his mouth to hers, deepening the kiss. He released her wrists, but she was so lost to sensation her hands merely slid down to his hard shoulders where she grasped him, needing some stationary support.
He closed his fingers on her already sensitized nipple, worrying it relentlessly while his other hand drew her along his thigh in small, rhythmic movements that rocked her sex against him in a torturous way.
Oh, God, if he didn’t stop, she’d be coming in minutes.
And of course, he didn’t stop. No, he amplified his efforts as if he knew she was close.
He left her mouth, but only to put his own to her throat, his teeth grazing her skin. He bent lower, and suddenly his lips were on her opposite nipple, a shock of sensation as he dampened the material of her top with his tongue.
She sank her hands into his silky hair, too breathless to protest. Too close to care that she’d completely lost the lead.
“Baxter,” she whispered.
“Hush.”
Ohhh, later she’d make him pay for that. But now, now she just needed his mouth on her naked skin. She released him to hook her fingers in the front of her top, then tugged it down, stretching the expensive material without care. “Here,” she said, offering herself to him.
She felt his smile against the upper curve of her breast. If he teased, if he laughed, she’d—
His mouth latched on to her, sucking softly, then, before she could catch her breath, not so softly.
“Yes.” She dropped her head back against the wall, her eyes so heavy she could barely keep them open. His fair hair brushed her skin, his mouth pulled, his hand continued rocking her...
She came in a rush, hard and fierce, the pleasure crashing through her in persistent waves that left her crying out, her whole body shuddering. Always in sex, she tried to be aware of how she looked, tried not to give in to “orgasm face.” Now, with Baxter, she couldn’t think, much less care about her appearance.
As the climax receded, she would have slid down the wall except for Baxter’s embrace.
His husky voice whispered, “Nice,” in her ear right before he tipped her over his shoulder and carried her down the narrow hallway without bumping her head.
He dumped her on the bed.
Not sexy. But he was stripping off his shirt—very, very sexy—and shucking his shorts, so she didn’t complain.
Naked, he rolled on a condom, his fingers hurried but sure over his cock. Ridley licked her lips.
Could a man be more delicious? His body was lean, toned, cut in key places...like those mouthwatering muscles that led down to his erection. Flexing biceps, carved shoulders, long defined thighs. He was fit in a natural, oh-so appealing way and now, after the draining O she’d just had, she could spend an hour just visually exploring him.
When he finally looked at her, his eyes were like green fire burning over her body.
She smiled, enjoyed his obvious lust.
Jaw tight, color high on his cheekbones, he shoved her camisole above her breasts. He breathed heavily, muttering, “Jesus.” Both hands cupped her breasts, kneading softly, but not for long. In a rush, he caught her harem pants and stripped them off her, along with the thong, in one long drag. Slower now, he coasted his big hands down her thighs, pressing them apart as he did so.
“Fucking gorgeous all over.”
His voice was so low, so gravelly, she barely heard him.
His gaze lifted to lock on hers. “A hundred things.”
“What?”
“A hundred things I want to do, but I need you now.”
Ridley meant to welcome him with open arms, but he didn’t give her a chance. He pulled her hips to the edge of the bed, hooked his elbows under her legs, spreading her wide, and then he was at her opening, nudging, moving in her wetness, finding just the right place before sliding deep in one long, sure thrust.
Her body arched up to meet him, every nerve ending suddenly alive again, wanting, needing.
“Look at me, Ridley.”
She got her eyes open for the odd request, even managed a polite, “Yes?”
“Keep looking at me.” He withdrew a little, only to drive in again, hard enough to scoot her on the mattress.
Oh, but that was too intimate, forcing her to feel what he felt—letting him know what she felt. No other man had asked it of her, so why should he?
She turned her head to the side...and he stopped, staying deep inside her, but utterly still.
She could feel him throbbing as her body squeezed around him, trying to encourage him, yet he didn’t move.
Softly, he commanded, “Look at me.”
Not being a woman who took orders lightly, she resisted.
He pressed over her, bending her legs back farther so that her knees would have pressed her breasts...if his hands weren’t over them, holding them so that he could brush her nipples with his thumbs.
“Ridley,” he sang insistently, and he tugged, sending sensation straight from her nipples to where she held him, hard and full, inside her body.
Ah, God... She opened her eyes on his face.
Instead of gloating, he leaned forward more—which sent him impossibly deeper—and put a butterfly kiss to her mouth.
After that, she could barely think enough to breathe, definitely not enough to defy him.
He slid in and out, each stroke a little harder, a little faster, until they were straining together. Gazes still locked.
It was the most personal, private, wonderfully invasive thing she’d ever experienced, heightening every sensation, both physical and emotional.
She gasped, “Baxter.”
“Come for me.” He held her nipples in his fingers, his thrusts causing a rhythmic tug there that matched the hot glide and retreat of his cock inside her swollen sex. “Come now, Ridley,” he urged, his face darkening, his jaw flexing.
As if he could command it so, she did, almost screaming with the power of it, her fingers digging deep into his chest, her thighs locked tight over his shoulders.
Watching him made it more exciting, his raw, real expressions as release coursed through him.
As they both gradually stilled, he clumsily freed her legs and lowered his body to hers, his face beside hers, his breath fast and hot.
She luxuriated in the aftermath, her body still buzzing pleasantly, every emotion spent so that she seemed to float even with his weight pressing down on her. Minutes passed, maybe thirty or more, in that pleasant haze.
Ridley sighed in contentment. It was amazing, wonderful, the best sex—something more than sex—she’d ever experienced. She could so easily become addicted...
Wait, what?
Her eyes popped open wide with the realization of what had happened.
Frantically, she shoved on Baxter’s shoulders. “Move!”
Unconcerned with her sudden mood shift, he grumbled a complaint, then rolled clumsily to the side of her.
She was damn near panicking—and Baxter looked ready to sleep.
13
When Ridley fussed beside him, her movements agitated, he let out an aggrieved sigh. Should have known the peace wouldn’t last.
For some reason, he almost smiled.