Midnight Man (Midnight #1)(15)

A goodnight kiss said a lot about a man and about how she reacted to that man. A nice safe testing ground.

Though nothing about John Huntington seemed safe to her.

She wanted him to kiss her hard. What would it be like to feel all that strength, all that power, all that male energy focused on her, her body tightly held close to his?

She had to find out. She wanted another kiss from him. Like before, only harder, deeper. Standing on tiptoe, she closed her eyes and touched her open mouth to his again. Her tongue came out to touch his lips and she moaned, deep in her throat.

It all happened at once. Like a whirlwind.

In a second, she was backed up against the brick wall, pinned there by his huge body. His mouth slanted over hers, hard, tongue deep in her mouth. In a second, her coat puddled on the floor and in one slashing movement, his hand moved down her front.

She heard her pearl buttons pinging on the floor and a ripping sound and then her breasts were free. She knew that because he picked her up and clamped his mouth over her nipple and suckled, hard.

The pleasure was so intense, it was almost pain and she gave a sharp cry.

He was holding her high enough so that her mound was level with his erect penis. Her back was against the wall - there was no escaping it.

He was steel-hard and ground into her, rubbing his penis over her. A hard hand reached around to her buttocks and tilted her pelvis forward until he nestled in the folds of sex and she rode him. If it hadn’t been for her clothes, and his, his penis would have been inside her.

He shifted his hold and he licked his way to her other breast. His mouth was hot, avid. He licked her nipple as he suckled. Her other breast, still wet from his mouth, felt cold. She shivered.

Suzanne didn’t even have time to be shocked or react in any way. Too late, she remembered his hard words outside the restaurant. “When I start kissing you, I won’t be able to stop.”

She opened her mouth to say “Stop”. Surely she was going to say—stop.

This was insane.

Given the type of man John Huntington was, she’d been prepared for a kiss to knock her socks off, but she hadn’t been expecting this.

You’ve got to stop this. Had she said the words or just thought them?

And how could she ask him to stop when what he was doing was so mind-numbingly fantastic, so intensely erotic? How could she say stop when the last thing she wanted him to do was stop?

She wanted more.

He lifted his head, as if he’d heard her unspoken words and shifted her higher, until her face was almost on a level with his.

How could she ever have thought his lips soft? There was absolutely nothing soft about his face. His features could have been carved from a rock, except for his nostrils, flaring with every breath he took. They stared at each other.

This was insane. This had to stop. She gazed into his gunmetal eyes and opened her mouth to tell him. He dipped his head again, catching her mouth. His groin moved strongly against her mound, rhythmically, and she forgot everything, even her name. All she knew, all she was, was concentrated between her legs.

A flash of heat billowed up, enveloping her. Her wild cry echoed in the hallway. Just like that, she was close to orgasm, so close…she closed her eyes and tilted her head back, every sense concentrated on her loins, on the fire between her legs, just one more second and she would explode…

He pulled away.

“Not like this,” John growled. “I want to be in you.”

Holding her with one big hand, he reached around to unzip her skirt, pulled it down and off, then skimmed up her leg until he encountered the top of her stockings, grunting with satisfaction when he realized they were thigh-highs. His hand continued up and with one hard wrench tore her panties off.

His big hand moved between them and she gasped as she felt his touch. She was on the edge…

He freed himself and a second later drove into her.

Suzanne cried out, the sound echoing in the hallway, high and wild. His eyes bored into hers. A muscle twitched over his cheekbone. His hot breath washed over her face.

It was so incredibly, impossibly erotic. Except for her stockings, she was naked, completely open to him. He was fully dressed, except for where he was buried in her. Her naked breasts rubbed against his overcoat, still wet and cold from the outside, almost as exciting as his mouth.

His jaw muscles bunched. Still pinning her with his gaze, he pressed more deeply within her and, just like that, she exploded, shaking wildly with the force of her orgasm, shuddering and crying, pulsing wildly around him.

He moved strongly then, as if released from bonds, and started hammering into her. He was big and so rough she knew he’d be hurting her if she weren’t so completely aroused.

The entire evening had been a form of foreplay, moving toward this, this wild lovemaking against a wall. Pulsing, shaking, shuddering, the explosion went on forever, until he gave a shout, grew impossibly larger and harder inside her and exploded in turn.

He clutched her so tightly she knew there’d be marks tomorrow.

Their breathing was loud in the empty hallway. His big head hung down on her shoulder. His broad chest heaved and the friction of his coat against her nipples continued to excite her body. Her treacherous body.

What had she done?

Suzanne’s head slowly tilted until the back of it rested against the wall. John leaned against her so heavily she could feel the individual bricks against her back. She opened her mouth to say something—anything—but words choked in her throat.