Ultimate Weapon (McClouds & Friends #6)(84)

She licked her dry lips. “Were you aware that position is for the woman to control? That’s the whole point of it. Guess it never occurred to a prehistoric lunk like you.”

“You want control, Tamar?” His smile flashed in the dim light. “Fight me for it. I love the way you come around me when you lose.”

She had to struggle hard to muster her defenses. Particularly with his clever finger stroking tenderly just above the hood of her clit. A touch she could barely feel, and yet…oh. She could feel nothing else.

“I hate you,” she said distractedly. “You need a lesson.”

“You will be too tired to give me one when I am finished,” he said. “You’ll be so exhausted, you won’t even struggle when I tie you down, to lick your clit and tongue-f*ck you into another orgasm. Then I’ll take you again. Watching every detail. The way my cazzo slides into you, those slick pink * lips kissing my whole length as I pull out…and push in, again and again, ah. The way you take all of me, every last centimeter, until the head of my cazzo is rammed up inside you, against the core of you, so tight, rocking and throbbing—”

“Stop it,” she whispered. “No more talk.”

“No?”

She held his gaze as she popped open the buttons on her jeans, and wiggled lower in the seat to give him more scope. She parted her legs, letting him deeper, and shoved his hand inside her jeans. “Get to work,” she said. “And make it good. Or you’ll pay for your teasing.”

He took her up on the invitation, sliding two fingers into her cleft. She was so, so juicy and swollen. She moved against him almost frantically, it felt so good, clamping her thighs around him.

Val curved his fingers into a gentle hook, circling tenderly over the glowing places inside her that were flushed with expectant pleasure while his thumb took care of her clit, doing a perfect little tremolo…ah, God, talk about multitasking.

He slapped the seat divider up and covered her mouth with his.

He was as talented with his mouth as he was with his hands, but it wasn’t his skill that stirred her. It was the look in his eyes. Not triumphant, or smug, or pleased with himself. Just quietly desperate.

She closed her eyes, and saw that dream heart glowing in the gentle cradle of his hand. Light shining through his fingers.

Don’t get squishy about dreams. Dreams will betray you, said a scolding inner voice.

Don’t ruin this for me, she told it. A little pleasure, for God’s sake. A little bit of pleasure, once in a blue moon.

She knew the choreography of kisses, just as she knew every other sexual technique, but she’d never felt the raw, driving desire behind a kiss before. The whole point of a kiss. As if there was a precious elixir to be had from the mouth of the other, something they would both die without and only pleading passion could bring it forth.

She squeezed and writhed, breathless in the dark. He was so good. Perfect. The only thing she would have gladly changed about this moment was that she wanted the thrusting prong of his fingers to be that thick, meaty cock. She wanted to twine her naked legs around him and take him to the hilt, to feel his strength jarring into her with that wild, pounding rhythm that took her breath. She wanted all the room and softness of a big bed to do justice to his outrageous bounty.

No time to be dissatisfied, though. She was coming apart, tightening around him with every tiny muscle inside herself. Sensations, emotions, welling up together.

They overflowed, swirling, rushing. Carrying her gently away.

He lifted his head slowly afterward. There was no need to say anything. The tension in his hand still clamped over her mound, the bulge in his jeans, his dark, burning eyes said it all.

He fell heavily back into his chair as she got his jeans open. There was a glow of pink on the bottom of the window shade, signifying that dawn was at hand—which meant that a flight attendant could pull aside the curtain and offer them coffee and pastry at any moment.

She did not care. She wrenched down the stretchy black fabric of his briefs and took his thick, throbbing shaft into her hand with a sigh. Beautiful. Stone hard and broad and swollen, longer than any cock had practical reason to be, thick enough to be a bit of a problem. Overkill.

She squeezed her thighs around the juicy glow of lingering pleasure as she licked up glistening drops of pre-come. He gasped for air.

She sucked him into her mouth, relishing the salty taste, the hardness of his flesh, the silky skin, the deep throb of his heartbeat pulsing against her tongue.

Last night, she’d wanted to assault him with her skill. Now, she just wanted to be so close his pleasure would be her own, every stroke, every moan. She craved that closeness. She’d been alone so long.

She needed both hands to perform a proper blow job on this man. It was hard just to get his cockhead into her mouth, let alone the rest of it, but with the skillful addition of bold, twisting handwork and a generous amount of slippery spit, that was no problem at all.

It was perfect, feeling his response, the trembling dig of his fingers into her scalp, the hot, rich male smell of him, the tension in his muscular frame as he bent over her as he built up to it—and a volcanic explosion in her mouth. He spurted an outrageous amount of come into her mouth in complete and utter silence. Such self-control.

She kept him nestled inside the warm well of her mouth until the rhythmic spurts finally slowed down and eased off. She pulled her head away and admired the gleaming length of him, milking the last few creamy drops of come and licking them up, with tender, teasing flicks of her tongue. The sound he made was almost a whimper. His hands tightened in her hair. They were both damp with sweat.