Baddest Bad Boys(11)

Oh, man. She was moving in on her first climax, already. He clamped her hips against himself, sucked in air. Hung on for take-off.

Jesus. Like being on the inside of a fountain of light.

She arched, and he caught her, felt every violent pulse wrench through her and slowly fade to a sweet, lingering tremor of pleasure.

Wow. He hadn’t done a damn thing to make that happen. She’d done it all herself. And now he was worse off than before. Now he was in a world of hurt. Restless, desperate. Fucking furious, at himself, at her.

Robin lifted her head. Her face glowed with a sheen of sweat. Her lips were red, gleaming. They shook. “Kiss me,” she whispered.

His whole body clamored to obey. “No,” he said harshly.

She looked startled. “But you—but we—”

“Forget it.” Kissing would blow his lid off, even more than f*cking would. He couldn’t. He felt too shriveled and blackened inside to risk it. Not with the smoke damage, the toxic waste. Fallout from the Egg Man.

“You’re still angry,” she said.

“Yeah,” he said. “I don’t like being played with.”

Her eyes looked hurt. “Played with? I’m not playing! I offered you everything God gave me! You seemed to like it. So just take it, already!”

He dumped her on her back on the sofa, her leg still sprawled over his, and slid off the couch and onto his knees. He rearranged his boner and his balls in their strangling prison of denim, and stared down at her body, laid out on the couch. She gazed up, apprehensive.

His hand came to rest on the petal-soft curve of her belly. Slid up to touch the undercurve of her breast. Something gave way inside him.

A compromise. It might not preserve his honor or integrity, but it was a measure of damage control. And it was the best he could do.

“OK. You win,” he said hoarsely. “Up to a point.”

Her eyes widened. She jerked up, half sitting.

“Let me tell you how it’s going to be,” he said. “I’ll get you off, as many times as you want. I’ll teach you to give head, because if you don’t make me come, I’m going to be in need of medical intervention. But I’m not going to kiss you. And I’m not going to f*ck you. No penetration.”

Her eyes glowed, golden brown in the flickering firelight. “Wow,” she whispered. “Um, why not?”

“Damage control,” he said. “I don’t have any latex, for one thing—”

“I do!” she offered brightly.

“No. Penetration. And that’s. Fucking. Final. Got it?”

Robin rolled her eyes. “You’re being silly. The rest of what you’re suggesting is just as compromising and intimate, if not more so—”

“Believe me. You don’t want me for your first lover.”

She propped herself onto her elbows and studied him, fascinated. “Why on earth not? I’ve dreamed of it for years. You’re gorgeous. So?”

He flushed, like a teenage boy. “Because I’m hung like a horse, that’s why. Which is great for some women, if they’re built for it. And it sucks for others. Virgins belong in the second category.”

Her mouth dangled open, eyes wide. Her gaze flicked down to his crotch. “Let me see,” she said, reaching down.

He blocked her hand and pinned it against the sofa cushion. “Uh-uh. Do not let the beast out of its cage,” he said, teeth clenched.

“Poor trapped beast won’t have any fun unless you let him out.”

“You think this is fun?” he snarled.

She struggled up into a sitting position. “I hoped it would be,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to torture you. I wish you could lighten up.”

His laughter was bitter. Lighten up, his hairy ass. After months of worming through the sewer of Geddes’s sick mind?

But he didn’t want to lay that tortured crap on Robin.

“I am who I am,” he said grimly. “If you don’t like me this way, we can just stop. I’ll just go lock myself in the bathroom and jerk off.”

She gazed at him, looking uncertain. “I don’t want to stop,” she whispered. “Whatever you want to give me…I’ll take.”

He sagged over her, and pressed his face against her belly, nuzzling the secret cleft of her navel. She shuddered, sliding her fingers into his hair as he slid his hand into her jeans. His searching fingers found a silky swatch of fine pubic hair, smooth and flush to her skin.

Lower, to find the dampness, the plump, cushiony lips of her *. The seam was slick and hot. Panties soaked with lube.

She whimpered, and clutched his wrist. She was primed.

He had to see it. Taste it. Feel her come with her clit in his mouth. He pulled his hand out, and sucked his gleaming fingers. Sweet as candy. The roar in his ears got louder. “Get those jeans off,” he said.

She was too damn slow. She couldn’t get the knots of her sneakers undone, so she pried them off her heels. He wrenched the buttons open, and yanked panties and jeans down together.

It happened so fast. One minute she was arguing, and the next, she was buck naked but for her ankle socks.

“This is like Sexual Fantasy Number 2017B. My ravishing pirate fantasy,” she babbled. “Remarkably similar to the medieval knight fantasy. Or the Scottish Laird fantasy. You star in them all.”