Breaking the Limits: Rafe & Nicole Book 2 (3 page)

He raised his dark brows fractionally. ‘Getting ready to fuck you. Remember – no rules.’ Capturing Nicole’s hands, he circled her wrists with one hand, and started freeing buttons with his other. ‘And I’m guaranteeing unlimited orgasms. What’s not to like?’

‘Your damned arrogance for starters.’ But her nipples were drilling holes in the fine linen of her dress, her breathing unquiet, restless, her body opening the door wide for those promised orgasms.

‘Fuck my arrogance.’ He spoke with stunning indifference. ‘As if that’s gonna stop you from coming.’ Freeing another button, he glanced at her stiff, peaked nipples. ‘Christ, you’re almost there, aren’t you? All I have to do is touch these impressively sexed-up nipples and you’ll go off like a rocket.’

She gritted her teeth, looked back at him through a haze of lust and shook her head.

He laughed. ‘We’ve met before, remember? Even on a good day, you’ve got a short fuse when it comes to sex. Don’t get me wrong, I like that, but I’m running this show. That means you’re going to lose your little wager,’ he said with a lazy smile. ‘In just a few seconds.’ Slipping free the last of the row of pearl buttons, he eased open the dress top. ‘Jesus, Tiger,’ he whispered, a small heat in his voice. ‘You have the
nicest
tits – best in the world, no shit.’ He slid his fingers down her warm cleavage, under the ripe abundance of her breasts, lifted slightly, his fingertips sinking into the yielding softness, his erection surging in stark appreciation.

‘Fuck – just the feel of these cushy boobs makes me so hard it hurts.’ His voice was tightly leashed, a hushed expectancy in his words. ‘Change of plans. You’re gonna have to jack me with your tits first.’

He heard her muffled sob, bent forward, saw that her eyes were glittering with wetness. ‘Christ, don’t cry. We’ll talk about it, okay?’

She sniffled, drew in a deep breath, embarrassed and angry with herself for dissolving into tears with a man like Rafe who was the poster boy for casual sex. ‘I don’t feel like talking,’ she said, biting her bottom lip to stifle her tears. ‘I’m fine.’

She looked so lost and confused, making her happy was a no-brainer. ‘Look, that was a dickhead thing to say.’ Her eyes were still shiny with tears, her little hiccupy sniffs witness to his dickheadness. ‘From now on, if I’m doing something you don’t like, just let me know. We good?’

His offer to accept input during sex didn’t go unnoticed by his psyche – the word pussy-whipped came to mind, startling in its novelty. But when Nicole blinked away her tears, then nodded and smiled, he suddenly felt as though he’d been given a prize. ‘That’s my girl,’ he whispered. ‘Yeah?’

‘You betcha.’

Her smile this time was warm and heady and he had to tell his dick to cool it a little longer. Too many years of women giving him what he wanted had made him callous. Insensitive. He almost smiled. Fuck, new world order. Behave.

Sliding his fingertips over the soft fullness of her breasts to her nipples, he caressed the sensitive crests with feather-light delicacy, up and down, around and around, tugging a little, squeezing gently, taking his time until her breathing turned into erratic little pants. Then, capturing the ostentatious, jewel-hard tips in his fingers, he slowly compressed the tender flesh.

She shuddered, the exquisite pressure streaking downward, coiling hot and achy between her legs and, with a frantic little groan, she pushed back against his engorged dick. ‘Rafe, please, I’m dying.’

‘Just a second,’ he whispered. Moving his hands down her stomach, beneath her short skirt, he slid his fingers under the edge of her panties, twisted his wrist, pushed two fingers into her slippery sex to her G-spot, placed his thumb on her clit, said, ‘Take a breath’ and exerted an irresistibly subtle pressure.

She moaned, a fevered, hysterical sound.

Liquid desire instantly drenched his fingers. ‘More?’ It was a promise of pleasure he took pains to deliver, stroking her sleek, pulsing tissue with tenderness and skill, with targeted ingenuity, with just the right degree of pressure and depth. Until she was squirming hard against his hand and so close to climax, her whimpers were rising into audible demands. ‘Done waiting?’ A gentle question not likely to be answered when she was trembling, her eyes shut tight. With a hand on her shoulder, he turned her back facing him, his fingers still buried in her sweet, throbbing sex rotating sleekly. Dragging his fingertips over the tender nub of her G-spot, he waited a pulse beat while she shuddered, then slid his other hand under one soft, plump breast and, lifting it high, bent to lick her nipple. Lightly at first, a few nibbles, a little sucking, a drift of up and down strokes with the flat of his tongue, estimating her readiness, her soft moans, choppy breaths – waiting.

Until she suddenly arched her back against the sharp, raw feeling, grabbed huge handfuls of his hair, hauled him close and pleaded, ‘Now, now, now!’

Showtime.

Spreading his fingers wider, he tightened his grip on her tit, sank the fingers of his other hand deep into her hot, slick pussy and, holding her securely, drew her taut, peaked nipple into his mouth and sucked the life out of it.

Nicole groaned as lust punched downward with lightning speed, turned into hot, blazing rapture, and exploded a pulse beat later into the opening throes of an orgasm so stunning, she gasped. The soft, smothered sound swiftly escalated into a more familiar overwrought cry that rose in volume until it reached the adrenalin-powered scream of full-out, orgasmic ecstasy that always made Rafe smile. She had no restraint, her emotions raw: hot/cold; sweet/sulky; plenty of stubborn, but easy too. She laid it all out there. White lightning. Take it or leave it.

Taking it made his world perfect, made his heart rate tick up, made him feel lucky as hell.

She was still trembling when he carefully eased his fingers free, drew her into the warmth of his body. Running his hands up and down her back as she slowly calmed, he felt a pure, unspoiled content he only felt with her. Picture postcard nice. Good enough to pin up and remember with wonder when the world blew up to shit.

By slow degrees, Nicole’s senses returned to planet earth and, with a blissful sigh, she stretched up and kissed his throat. ‘You’re so good to me, I think I’m in love. No, I definitely am. Really truly.’

Her teasing tone effectively silenced any alarm bells apropos the word love and, dipping his head, he kissed her lightly. ‘Does that mean I get a turn?’ Because playing at love and roseate postcard scenarios were going to be winding down real fucking soon. ‘If you’re still going another few rounds though,’ he added, politely, forcibly suppressing stark reality. ‘Not a problem.’ But he was sliding her dress off her shoulders and down her arms as he spoke, baring her breasts a moment later, his dick fixed on getting into the game regardless of her answer or his offered politesse.

A small flicker of coolness drifted over her heated skin as the dress dropped to her waist, a wild, spiking pleasure coursing through her, his touch instantly igniting her cravings as if she’d not just climaxed moments ago. ‘You inside me ASAP. My turn, your turn, we both get turns,’ she said in a heated rush, her need for Rafe unquenched, insatiable. Terrifying. ‘I feel as though I should apologize for my breathless frenzy, explain – if I could. Fuck it. I can’t. I’m hopelessly addicted, not that you haven’t heard that a thousand times, but
—
’

‘I haven’t,’ he interrupted, not about to get into a discussion of the women in his past.
‘Where? Here, the bed or
—
’

‘Right here, right now. Right the fuck
now
!’ Nicole was fevered, impatient, beginning to tremble. Just like all the other women who lusted after Rafe Contini’s celebrated dick, she thought, reaching for the zipper on his shorts. ‘I don’t suppose you ever fall apart, crazed with lust?’

She was staring at him with a fretful, narrowed gaze and his dick was rock hard, so he chose a tactful middle ground answer. ‘Not often, no.’

‘You mean not
ever
,’ she said, tight-lipped, struggling with the zipper caught in the chino cloth.

Okaaay. Try again.
‘Look, Pussycat, don’t take it personally, but coming from my family I learned early on to keep my shit together. Falling apart was never an option.’

She was sprung so tight, she was practically twitching; he, on the other hand, was un-fucking-believably composed. ‘I never fell apart before. That’s all I’m saying. What the hell are you smiling for?’

‘It pleases me, that’s why.’

‘It unnerves the hell out of me,’ she grumbled, jerking on the zipper. ‘And just so you know, I resent your permanently aroused dick, I resent my inability to resist it, I despise all the women in your past . . . for no good reason, okay – I get it, the past’s the past.’ She raised her chin contentiously. ‘But you know, sometimes I forget that. What I really hate though, is feeling this irrational lust whenever I’m within fifty feet of you and if you don’t help me with this zipper right this fucking second,’ she snapped, her voice cracking at the end, ‘I’m going to
scream
! I want you inside me. Now!’

If he was in the habit of expressing his feelings, he could have said they were both in the same schizoid boat – simultaneously sexed up and resentful. He also could have said that he wasn’t accustomed to women screaming at him. He should tell her to go fuck herself. He should tell her he knew a couple of therapists. He should refuse her undiluted command. ‘How far inside?’ he said instead, his voice dangerously soft.

‘Zipper,’ she said with a little bite.

‘No problem,’ he said, calm as hell, brushing her hands aside. His shorts were off a second later and, kicking them away, he spun Nicole around so her back was to him. ‘Hands on the window sill.’ Shoving her skirt up over her wiggling, squirming ass, he suddenly went motionless – irrationally offended by her goddamn eagerness. All his festering jealousies instantly reignited at the thought of other men who’d seen her like this.

He dragged in a breath.
Let it go.
This was about play, nothing serious; the clock was ticking for Christ’s sake. This wasn’t the time to overthink; this was about hot sex, and getting off until his dick gave out.
As if.
Rational thought hadn’t had a fucking chance since he’d first set eyes on Nicole. ‘I have a few questions,’ he muttered, jerking her upright and spinning her around.

She blinked. ‘You’re kidding!’ But his expression was so grim she quickly adjusted her response to something more likely to keep her on her impassioned path to nirvana. ‘Look, if you want me to apologize, consider it done, okay? Whatever I said, I take it back.’

‘I’m not looking for an apology.’ His expression was unreadable. ‘I need to ask you something.’

‘Could we do this later
—
’ She drew in a steadying breath. ‘When I’m not so stressed out – lust wise?’

A flash of impatience. ‘No.’

‘I’d like to be agreeable, but
—
’ She smiled, fluttered her hands in voiceless apology, then slid them between her legs. ‘This really isn’t a good time.’

He jerked her hands up so fast her jaw dropped. Holding her hands in a deceptively loose grip, he smiled tightly. ‘It’s a good time for me.’ He spoke softly, without inflection. ‘And if you ever want to come again, you might want to answer my questions.’

Her eyes instantly narrowed into slits. ‘What’s your problem?’

‘I don’t have a problem. You have a problem. Me. So . . .’ His nostrils flared. ‘First, don’t fucking scream at me. Second, consider learning a little sexual restraint.’ His gaze passed over her briefly, without expression. ‘Third, I want to know how many men have . . .’ He sucked in a breath, suddenly questioning his sanity. His world was about to come crashing down around him for Christ’s sake and he was looking for some ridiculous head count.
What the fuck?
Dropping her hands, he exhaled loudly, quickly raked his fingers through his hair, then gave her a curt nod. ‘Look, screw it. Just don’t scream at me, okay, and we’ll get along.’

‘Does getting along mean I can have sex with you?’ Feeling as though the storm had passed, and she’d survived, her sexed-up psyche was wilfully back on target. Her eyes locked in on his blatant erection lifting the fabric of his boxers. ‘Are you going to take it out or should I?’

She sure as hell had balls. But he was still smarting from almost losing it over some totally unacceptable jealousy. ‘It depends.’

She smiled. ‘Come on, can we cut the drama?’

He shrugged. ‘You tell me. You’re the screaming drama queen.’

She squared her shoulders, inhaled, offered him a tentative smile. ‘Okay, here goes, I’m going to lay it all out – every confused, conflicted emotion. And even though you’ve heard it from me before, remember, women like to talk things to death. I’ve always preferred things simple, no strings, no craziness. And until I met you, the pattern never changed. So I dislike, loathe, maybe even hate feeling this out-of-control about a man – you in particular. I don’t, as a rule, think about men and all I
do
is think about you, want you, need you . . . in me, over me, around me . . . every goddamn minute.’

‘Sex, you mean.’ A noticeable growl vibrated through the words, his recent reflections on being reasonable about head counts going up in smoke.

She grimaced. ‘I don’t know, maybe, could be. But you of all people can’t take issue with that.’

‘I find I do with you. It annoys me. Not often.’ He smiled his first warm smile since she’d screamed at him, thinking that was about as close to contrite as his little hot-headed girl could manage. ‘Look . . . you’ve brought me a kind of happiness I didn’t know existed. But dealing with this – sex . . . relationship – whatever it is between us, processing all the strange, new feelings; good and bad, the wanting . . . ’ A quick, boyish smile. ‘Which is fanatical, by the way, is messing with my head too.’