“Big shot.”
And then we both dissolved into hushed laughter. But all kidding aside, I was a bit worried about her. I was pretty sure Lisa had never been accosted by some old lady who wanted to ask her a thousand questions about her bloodline, for God’s sake. “You sure you’re good?” I asked.
Lisa gave me a little smile and then made some hair-smoothing moves like she was putting herself back together. Finally, she blew out a long breath and nodded. After that, she seemed to have totally regained her composure and was somehow even prettier than I’d remembered her from an hour before.
“You hungry?”
“Always.”
“My kind of woman, but I’m not talking about lunch.”
“My kind of man!”
I wrapped my arm around Lisa’s waist and pulled her into the walk-in pantry. I pressed her up against the shelf full of pasta sauces and oils and vinegars. “Full disclosure, Grandma doesn’t actually live with me. In case you were worried about that.”
A tickled smile started to show on Lisa’s face. “And why would I be worried about that?”
“Don’t know.” I dropped my voice. “But maybe because when you come, it’s like a fucking earthquake. I’ll bet you made the needles shift at the USGS.”
Lisa tried to shove me, but I didn’t budge, and instead, I just pressed my chest back into her hands, crowding her up against a row of chutneys that I got in a gift basket from my investment banker. Lisa said, “She really is a piece of work. I just don’t know why she wants to figure out my heritage.”
I couldn’t help myself and moved my hand around behind her ass. I gave it a squeeze, and Lisa moaned, then pushed her hips into my thighs. “She wants to get me married off, that’s why.”
Sizing me up carefully, she shifted her puckered lips to the side. “Is that so?”
Nodding at her, I bent down, nudging her cheek with my nose. I crowded her space a little more, and the glass jars shifted behind her. “But I’d rather find the one myself.”
I hoisted her up on one of the pantry shelves, and a box of crackers tumbled to the ground, followed by a bag of pasta. Lisa reached up and hooked her arms around me. “And how do you plan to do that?” she asked as she hooked her ankles around my ass and raised her eyebrow.
Goddamn it, what a pistol. Perfect in every way. “One step at a time,” I told her and then put her down to give her a piggyback ride up to my bedroom.
*
When we got to the master suite, I let her slide off of me onto the bed and then went down onto my knees between her legs. I hooked my fingertips over the waistband of her leggings and pulled them down. No panties now—God bless this motherfucking blizzard.
“Won’t she wake up?” Lisa whispered, propping herself on her elbows and glancing at the door, which I’d closed and locked.
“She’s out cold, at least until midafternoon, and she couldn’t hear us anyway. She’s in a different wing.”
Lisa’s eyes flashed with that word, wing, and her gaze moved around the master suite, darting from the ceiling to the long silk drapes to the leather sofa on the other side of the room and up and down the posts of my bed. “This place is really amazing.”
“You know what else is amazing?” I brought my tongue to her clit, tracing the edges and tasting her for the first time so far. “This.”
She moaned up at the ceiling, and I pushed her thighs open wider. I got a little obsessed with the idea of my cum still inside her from last night—fucking dirty, fucking lewd—but I let myself go there. Her smell was the trip wire, her taste the fuse. I’d seen it last night, and I had the bite marks to prove it. She was sweet as frosting on the surface, but underneath was a whole different story. As I sank down deeper, giving her more of my tongue, her fingertips moved softly through my hair. Her toes curled below me, gripping the rail of the bed frame.
I slid my first two fingers into her, and her body bucked off the mattress, her ass squeezed tight. I worked her clit slow and firm and eased her back into submission. Inside my pants, I was rock hard. Wiping my mouth on her thigh, I grazed that soft skin with my stubble. “I’m going to make you come like this, and then I’m going to get inside you, where I’m going to come again. And again. We clear?”
Her grip on my hair tightened. She lifted her face to meet my stare, and she said, “Crystal.”
“But I need you to be a little bit quieter than last night.” I dragged her ass closer to the end of the mattress, the seam of the edge making a line in that perfect flesh. “Because I don’t want any interruptions.”
Lisa pursed her lips, holding back a laugh. “Sorry.”
“Don’t you dare fucking apologize,” I said and got back to business.
11
Lisa
Having to be quiet was…the best thing ever. It intensified everything, not being able to let it out. After he spooned me right through a nap and back, I tottered to the master bathroom. I felt like a newborn foal on a nature show—like my legs didn’t work right at all. He’d made me come so hard that my knees were actually knocking together. I braced myself on the edge of the sink and looked at his reflection, him watching me from the bed. His eyes moved down to my bare ass, and he shook his head. Smug. Satisfied. And totally entitled. I spun to get a look, and there, in glorious pink welts, was his handprint.
He rolled out of bed and followed me into the bathroom. Just as he was about to close the door, though, we heard a clattering of pans from downstairs.
Dave pinched the bridge of his nose. “I love her, but I’d really rather that we’d ended up here snowed in, just the two of us.” He pressed into me from behind so that the marble edge of the countertop made a cold line against my thighs. “Because there’s a pool table in the basement, and I really have to see this body on that felt.”
With that thought making me shudder—fingers tangled in rope pockets, on my knees, goodness gracious—I turned to face him. “Dave, I need to be straight with you. I don’t usually do things like this. Actually, I never do things like this. I’ve got a three-date minimum before things move to the bedroom.”
Dave didn’t seem fazed by this at all. “Wait. So you don’t usually find yourself in the middle of a once-in-a-century natural disaster, stumble into a stranger’s house, and have the best sex of your life?”
Little did he know that the most exciting date I’d had recently was a round of speed dating cut short by a restaurant kitchen fire. Smoking hot! “Not since George W. was in office. And even then, it was only a tropical storm.”
He snickered and pressed his still half-hard cock into my belly button. “Me neither, actually. I have the shittiest luck with women. It’s like a sitcom.”