She didn't stop until he was less than an arm's length away. She placed a hand in the center of his chest. The heat of his hair-roughened skin seared her palm and she inhaled sharply.
Dean stopped breathing, but his heart pounded heavily beneath her palm. Its beat matched the hammering in her own chest.
He swallowed. "What are you doing?" he asked thickly, the words were low and hoarse, barely intelligible.
Her tone equally low, she replied, "Touching you," and her fingers curled inward a little, the tips digging into his flesh.
His hand shot up and covered hers. He squeezed, nearly rubbing the fragile bones of her hand together.
"Don't tease me, Parker."
A frown tipped down at the corners of her mouth as she struggled against his hold and, after another clench of his fingers, he released her, a grim twist to his own lips. Slowly, hesitantly, her hand flattened against his chest again.
"I don't tease."
Her gaze traveled up to the inviting hollow of his throat and stopped. The urge to put her lips there, to dip her tongue there was nearly overwhelming. She closed her eyes and her body swayed toward him.
"You're on dangerous ground," he growled, still not reciprocating her movements.
Frustration whipped through her and her eyes leapt to his. "Why are you fighting me? Why are you making this harder than it needs to be?"
His laugh was a short, humorless sound. "You're right." A hand, large and callused, cupped the nape of her neck, angled her head back, and she caught a glimpse of glittering eyes before a hard mouth closed over hers.
She didn't expect gentleness and didn't receive it. He nipped her lower lip and, eager for the taste of him, she parted her lips, and his tongue thrust heavily inside her mouth. Heat engulfed her and her whimper was lost somewhere in the voracious kiss as her eyes fluttered shut. His hands spread open across her back and swept down, arching her body and molding her to him, letting her feel just how hard he really was. Her muscles liquefied and she let him support all her weight, one hand between her shoulder blades and the other just above the curve of her buttocks.
She clutched at his shoulders, dragging him closer as if she couldn't already feel his heart beating against her breast. His hand trailed downward, over her buttocks, squeezing once, then along the back of her thigh, hooked the back of her knee and lifted her leg to drape it over his hips. A sandal slid off her foot. Her world tilted, making her head swim, and her arms instinctively tightened around his neck. She felt something hard against her back and realized he'd lowered her to the floor. He broke away from her, she opened her eyes, and her protest melted into a soft, needy sound.
Dean stood over her, all tanned skin and fluid muscles and glittering eyes as he shoved his shorts over his hips and down his legs. He straightened up and kicked them away. He stood, completely naked, his sex hard and thick. Her breath locked in her throat. Somehow, he was on his knees and reaching for her jeans. She got there first and popped the button open. His fingers found the tab of the zipper, wrenched it down, then curled into the waistband of her jeans and thong and peeled off both in one swift, impatient move.
She managed to pant out two words and, after a beat of confusion, Dean withdrew the small foil packet from the front pocket of her jeans before pitching it behind him.
"Take off the shirt," he demanded as he tore open the square packet and rolled on the condom.
Chest rising and falling with her audible breaths, Parker sat up, fingers scrambling to gather the hem of her T-shirt. She barely got it over her head before he pushed her back down onto the mat, knelt between her spread thighs, and hooked an arm under her right knee, lifting it, opening her even more to him. Under his gaze, heat spread across her breasts and her sex throbbed. But there was no embarrassment. How could she be embarrassed with him watching her with his face taut with such fierce urgency and desire?
Then large, blunt fingers parted her most intimate curls and all thoughts scattered. A soft cry broke free of her throat. He explored her boldly, the rough touch of his skin making her nerve endings sizzle and her hips roll with encouragement.
"Christ, you're wet," he muttered thickly, his fingers brushing the bud of her sex, pressing, plucking, and moving lower. A wave of painfully exquisite sensation washed over her. She wanted to feel his skin under her palms, but he was out of reach so she dug her fingers into the mat and arched her hips, seeking more. He obliged, sinking two long fingers into her heated channel. Every muscle in her body tensed. Another groan, this one sounding like it had been torn from him.
"I can't wait," he said, withdrawing his fingers and sliding both hands up to cup her hips. He lifted them, angling her pelvis, and positioned himself until the broad, heated tip of his sex parted her moist folds. "I'll make it up to you," he promised, then surged inside her with a powerful thrust of his hips.
Parker cried out. There was a moment of intense physical discomfort as she stretched and tightened around the width and length of him.
He muttered a curse and, through gritted teeth, asked, "Am I hurting you?"
Shaking her head, she wrapped her legs around his hips, her ankles crossing at the small of his back. Her teeth sank into her lower lip as her hips undulated, trying to find some ease. Another curse, then Dean's hands clamped down on her hips hard enough to bruise. He forced her to be still, holding her in place as he slowly withdrew—and the discomfort was forgotten as a tingle of sensation went through her. Eyes closed, Parker sucked in a breath, the sound harsh to her own ears. When only the tip of him remained inside her, he thrust forward again, and he repeated the motion over and over.
In her self-imposed darkness, Parker's other senses seemed heightened. There was the tactile pleasure from the friction of him moving inside of her, going hard and deep with each thrust, making the tension coiled in her middle build unbearably. She heard the catch of his breath, his ragged voice as he uttered words without meaning, the wet sound of their bodies coming together. The carnality of it was all so erotic, making her hotter and hotter.
He quickened his pace, becoming rough, jerky. She absorbed the feel of him as he hammered away between her legs. Oh, God. She was so close. If only she could touch him. If only she could—
Then every muscle in his body went rigid and he stopped breathing altogether. He shouted her name, and his muscles spasmed as he bucked and shuddered above her in the throes of his climax.
He collapsed on top of her, his considerable weight pinning her to the mat, his face buried in the side of her neck, his body still shaking. He managed to form two coherent words—an apology—in between his harsh breaths.
Unfulfilled desire lashed through her like a whip, but the only sign of it was the hands clenching and unclenching on his shoulders.
After a long moment, Dean started to ease his lax body off of her. Her arms tightened about him in protest. He responded by sinking his teeth in the curve of her shoulder. Her eyelids fluttered. His mouth moved to her ear. "Let me take care of you."
He broke free of her hold, peeled off and discarded the condom, and returned to her, making her moan when he trailed his open mouth over her chest, laving her swollen breasts with his tongue. Her fingers sank into his hair. He sucked on the budded tips, teasing them against his teeth, making her gasp his name before moving on. Her abdomen quivered under his mouth. He dipped his tongue in the hollow of her belly button, then dragged his teeth down her navel. She felt the heat of his breath on the apex of her thighs, which he spread wide with his hands to make room for his shoulders. Her hands fisted, probably hurting him, but he put his mouth on her and she no longer cared.
"Oh God." The words were the merest breath of sound. Her thighs went limp as he tongued her, exploring every slick, soft fold. Her heart beat faster and faster. He draped her thighs over his shoulders, and his hands wedged in between the mat and her buttocks. He lifted her like an offering for his mouth and deepened his intimate exploration. His wicked tongue slid to the entrance of her body and she writhed in his hold, sobbing his name.
Her climax was tantalizingly, painfully close, a hair's breadth from her aching fingertips, and she strained for it, her body no longer pliant but taut as a tightly drawn bow. He drew her clitoris between his teeth and bit down with exquisite care. Her body exploded, brilliant lights bursting behind her closed eyelids. Wave after wave of ecstasy broke over her until she was weak and trembling. Dean, however, didn't stop his ministrations, his mouth still voracious between her legs, and she was hurtled into another blinding orgasm, every muscle spasming uncontrollably in bliss.
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Copyright © 2010 by Ann Bruce. All rights reserved.