Envy(123)

“Debatable,” she murmured. “The part about him posing no threat, but we’ll give him the benefit of the doubt.”

“In exchange for that gesture of kindness, and despite the fact that Deck had drawn the low card, Frenchy tells him that at the time of the murder, she had heard a noise coming from the alley.”

“Which caused her to look out her bedroom window. That’s when she saw…” Needlessly Maris referred to the printed page. “The man in the red baseball cap running from the neighboring building.”

“A valuable piece of information,” Parker said. “Especially since Frenchy can describe the cap right down to the logo embroidered on it. Our hero thanks her with a kiss.”

Parker removed her eyeglasses and framed her face between his hands. His thumbs stroked her cheekbones while his eyes touched on every feature. He followed their path with his lips. When he reached her mouth, he kissed it softly, sensually.

Maris struggled to keep her response down to a low moan of arousal.

When he pulled back, he whispered, “She tastes incredible.”

“It doesn’t say that.”

“It doesn’t? It should. He’s compelled to go back for more.”

“Frenchy doesn’t resist.”

He kept the kisses gentle. They teased and tantalized and left her wanting. It was several minutes before they separated, and by then Maris felt drugged. A delicious lassitude had afflicted her limbs. Even so, she had enough presence of mind to continue the game.

Needlessly, she reached for her glasses and fumbled trying to get them on correctly. “Never mind.” She dropped them alongside the book. “I know what comes next. Frenchy, that lucky girl, draws the high card again.”

“Cayton’s pretty damn lucky himself. He gets to grant her a sexual favor.”

“But he’s uncomfortable with their position, so he pulls her astride his lap.”

Parker curved his hands around her waist. She came up on her knees and straddled him. “If I’m remembering correctly, Cayton kisses her ears, her throat, her…”

But Parker was way ahead of her. He had, after all, written the scene and knew the sequence. The straps of her nightgown had been lowered before she was completely settled on him. Her breasts lay cupped in his hands, his thumbs brushing her nipples. And now he was taking one into his mouth and sucking it lustily, pressing it hard between his tongue and the roof of his mouth.

Shamelessly she folded her arms around his head, holding it fast. Whimpering wordless sounds, she kissed the crown of his head, his temple, anyplace that she could reach without dislodging him, because she didn’t want him to stop.

Her sex softened and swelled, opening like a piece of fruit that had been ripened beyond its ability to contain itself. Parker reached between her thighs and when he touched her, she shuddered involuntarily. Her body closed wetly around his fingers.

“Go ahead,” he urged. “You know what you want to do.”

His name staggered out on an uneven breath.

“Go ahead, Maris.”

She began to move, rocking her hips against his hand, forcing his fingers deeper into her, responding to his subtle stroking until she was in the throes of an orgasm.

Or so she thought.

Until he slid beneath her and simultaneously lifted her up higher, supporting her hips with his strong hands and drawing her to his mouth. She gave a harsh, dry gasp of pure shock, but it was soon expelled as a low, keening sigh of incredible pleasure.

She flattened her palms against the headboard, and when that became insufficient support, she leaned into it, resting her cheek against the cool wood while giving herself over to the mastery of his tongue.

His flexing fingers embedded themselves in her flesh. His hair was soft against her lower belly, the stubble on his cheeks pleasantly scratchy against her inner thighs.

She became lost in the sensations. Utterly lost. Her mind and body were governed by sensual impulses to the exclusion of all else. She surrendered herself to the primal rhythms pulsing through her.

Numerous times she strained toward orgasm, but he would quieten her efforts with the softest of kisses and the sweetest of words before wickedly coaxing her to the brink again. When he did let her come, it was shattering. The last tether on consciousness was clipped and she soared, lost touch, spun in delirium.

Coherence returned gradually. Languorously. A feather drifting down.

Her skin was damp, her chest flushed, her nipples taut and red. Her heart was pounding and each beat echoed inside her head. She rested against the headboard until her breathing had slowed. When she finally opened her eyes, she realized they were wet with tears.

She lowered herself to sprawl on Parker’s torso like a shipwreck victim washed ashore. Her nightgown was wadded around her waist. Her hair clung to her cheeks and neck in damp strands. Parker smoothed his hands down her back, over her hips. They settled on her ass. He squeezed it gently and made her smile.

His heart was beating hard and strong directly into her ear. Each time she inhaled, her nose was tickled by chest hair. She had an up-close view of his nipple, which was flat until she touched it, then it beaded up hard against her fingertip and she felt his quick intake of breath. Between their bellies, she could feel his erection.

“Give me a moment,” she said weakly.

Laughter rumbled in his chest. “I’m not going anywhere.”