Breathe for Me(22)

“I have no intention of trying to.” Wasn’t he just Mr. Mysterious? “I don’t want to fall in love with a guy who thinks he’s a superhero.” She sent him a pointed look. “A guy like that clearly hasn’t grown up.”

He put the bottles on the floor and turned, swiftly tugging her down the bed, spreading her legs. He picked up one of the bottles again. “Fortunately I have ‘grown up’ enough to take you again. And as we know, when it comes to this, what I want, happens.” His eyes were sharp. “And right now, I have a hankering for this raspberry sauce.”

He squirted a dollop of it onto her breast. She squeaked—it was cold.

“Be quiet, slave,” he said firmly. “Reach back and hold onto the headboard.”

She glared up at him but registered the heat in his eyes.

“Now,” he added.

She said nothing, but his instruction, his expression melted her. He wanted. Slowly she lifted her hands above her head to do as he’d bid, happy to sink into the game.

He looked at her exposed breasts. “Very nice.”

Slowly, torturously slowly he drizzled the sauce—circling it around her nipples. “And delicious.”

He worked the line of sauce lower, around her belly button. She watched his face as he concentrated—watched the desire in his expression grow.

Remaining both still and silent became harder.

He shot a line of raspberry down her lower belly, then pushed her legs a little further apart with a firm hand—adding sauce to her upper thighs.

“I’m very hungry,” he muttered. He picked up another bottle and shook it, then squirted dabs of fluffy cream directly onto her nipples and then onto her small strip of pubic hair. “Lie still,” he snapped as she twitched uncontrollably.

He put the bottle down and stood along side the bed, surveying his handywork. His cock jutted big and proud. He noticed her staring and raised a brow. “You’re hungry too.” He looked her over again and frowned. “And there is one thing missing.” He poured a little of the raspberry onto his finger and then carefully daubed it on her mouth—like edible lipstick.

“No licking it off,” he warned. He wiped his finger across his chest, leaving a smear of sauce. He smiled as he caught her eyeing the streak. “No licking that either. Not until I say.”

Silent, she tightened her grip on the headboard as he rolled on a condom. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from him as he knelt onto the bed, taking up the space between her parted legs.

“But just so we know where we stand.” He bent and licked a break in the trail he’d poured down her lower belly. “I’m warning you that at some point it’s your fantasies we’ll be exploring. Not just mine.”

Heat surged in her cheeks—at both his action and his idea.

“You do have fantasies, right?” From between her legs, his expression gleamed. “I’m betting yes, given that you’re getting wetter with every word.” He bent and let his tongue investigate just how wet she’d gotten.

Her face grew hotter. Which was ridiculous given what he’d done—was doing—to her.

He lapped at the cream and sauce, his tongue rough—rapacious.

“I wonder what you fantasise about when you’re alone,” he mused, running his tongue around her clitoris and back down to her entrance. “How do you touch yourself?”

Her legs shook. She didn’t speak. Couldn’t. Her mind was a blank. She needed him to take the lead. His fantasies. She didn’t really know why but she needed this to be good for him—it was already beyond good for her.

“You can tell me, I won’t judge. And you already know I’m better than a vibrator,” he chuckled and then plunged his tongue deep.

She clenched instinctively, almost coming. Her embarrassment curled like a cinder in the roar of desire.

He lifted his head, his eyes suddenly narrowed. “Right?”

She couldn’t resist one itty bitty tease. So she still said nothing.

But he’d registered her amusement. “Oh darling.” He chuckled. “You’re going to pay for that.”

She deliberately licked the raspberry from her lip.

“Get it for me.” He suddenly demanded.

“What?”

“Your vibe. I want it.”

She shook her head. “I don’t have one.”

“You don’t have one?” His expression was comically appalled—the fantasy scenario fully shattered. On all fours he braced above her, his fists pushing into the mattress either side of her shoulders. “Have you ever had one?”

She shook her head. “We’re not all raging nymphos like you, you know.”

He burst out laughing. “Hate to break it to you honey, but you’re the biggest nympho I’ve ever met.”

She stared at him. “Hardly.”

“I mean it.” Kneeling up fit and proud, he looked down the length of her body. “So let’s recap.” His eyes paused on her raspberry and cream covered breasts. “You’ve come how many times tonight already?”

Did she have to separate out the multiples? “I’m not sure exactly.” Her reply slowed when she saw his gaze narrow in on her nipples.

She gasped as he swiftly dropped to straddle her. Her lower half was pinned under his weight in less than a second—their hips slick and sliding with the sticky sweet sauce.

His hungry mouth lapped away the sauce encircling her breasts. Chelsea arched, abandoning herself to his attentions. He knew just how to play with already over sensitive breasts—not going straight to her over reddened, nerve-filled nipples but delaying, moving closer, then retreating. Tormenting. Turning up her tension. Making her want it, arch up to him, groan for him. So quickly she was aroused, as fresh, as fired as if it were their first time.

His touch was addictive.

She moaned, unrestrained. This was what she wanted. All she wanted. To explore, enjoy, just this—passion, with no time for unsettled feelings. No tender emotions to be hurt.

He smiled as he reared back to admire how her nipples had tightly budded under the slide of his tongue. A low rumble sounded in his throat when she restlessly rocked her hips hard into his. They both knew she wanted him to go lower.

“You can think you’re as lazy as you like, love, but fact is you can’t help but respond to me.” He nudged her legs apart with his knee and settled between them. He tilted his hips, letting the head of his cock slide over and miss her entrance a couple of times. She instantly arched, seizing up in hunger.

“See?” He changed angle and pushed home. “You tighten around me. You try to keep me in.”

Her hips lifted as he slid out, leaving only an inch inside. Not enough. She moaned again, wildly thrusting up to meet him.

“And you try to draw me back.” He relented and pushed back inside her. “You like me here.”

She couldn’t answer, she was coming again.



Xander didn’t want to leave her bed, but knew he’d better. Hell, he’d not intended to be here at all. Except the instant he’d seen her again in the elevator it was all over. His brainless inner caveman had won—and his inner caveman wanted yet more hot’n’heavy time. But it’d be best to just get here, have the fun, then be gone. Keep it just the fantasy stuff—some scenarios, some screwing, some seriously shattering orgasms.

Sharing a bed, sharing meals, sharing showers…that’d lead to sharing too much. That’d make this complicated. As it was he tensed a little at how she was going to react to his leaving now. Was she really going to handle this with the aplomb she’d summoned when he’d met her again this afternoon?

Only way to find out was to lay it on the line.

He pushed out of the bed. “I’ve got to get going.”

“Good idea.” She nodded, also sliding out of bed and going one better by pulling on a cotton robe. “I need to get a decent sleep. I’ve got so much to get through at work tomorrow.”

She did?

He glared at the robe that now covered too much of her pretty skin and contrarily had the urge to rip it off her and tumble her back onto the bed.

“I think it’s best if we meet up in the evening for a few hours and then you can go home,” she said. “Just for a few nights, right?”

Yeah. Right. He’d no need to worry for her then, huh?

“I sleep better alone,” she added. “Especially these hot nights.”

Well that was a lie. She didn’t sleep that well at all. He’d been here for the nightmare. No wonder she was keen for him to go—she didn’t want to have the nightmare thing happen again with him present. Crazily, remembering that made him itch to stay. She shouldn’t have to suffer through those alone.

Instead he picked up his jeans. His phone fell from the pocket to the floor. He grabbed it and quickly scanned the screen. He’d missed several texts. He opened them but before he’d skimmed the first, the phone vibrated in his hand—Rocco.