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FIVE

Restraint wasn't a big word in Mike's vocabulary. Nor

was it something he 'd ever consider a huge turn-on, unless it meant silk scarves used to tie a woman to his bed while he pleasured her. But restraining his baser urges and focusing his attention on making sex good for Grace was more arousing than he imagined. From the moment she let him into her bedroom, he'd wanted to strip her and fuck her. But he knew, just knew, that's what every guy did to her. And he didn't want to be like the other guys. He didn't want to toss her on the bed, raise her skirt and drive his cock hard inside her. Well, he did. He really did. But something stopped him. Why her pleasure was suddenly more important than his own was a freaking mystery he wasn't about to delve into tonight. Poking at his psyche wasn't his favorite pastime. In fact, he typically avoided it like a plague.
But her response was an incredible reward. He'd never been so
invested in a woman's orgasm like he'd been in Grace's. Hearing her,
feeling her, tasting her, had made him harder than watching her masturbate. It had spurred him on to take her there again and again. And now she was spread out before him, ready for more. If he had to wait one more minute to be inside her he was going to explode. He jumped off the bed and pulled his shirt over his head, then yanked the zipper of his jeans down. The way she watched him made his cock press up against the already too-tight denim, made it hard to jerk them down over his erection. It sprang out, hot and hard and pointing right at her. Her eyes widened, like most women's did when faced with the size of him.
She was so tiny. Could she take him? God, he hoped so. If she backed away now he might actually break down and cry like a baby. He'd been hard for more than an hour and his balls were drawn tight and ready to explode. He crawled up beside her, staying on his knees, waiting for her reaction.
She sat up and wrapped both hands around him. He sucked in a breath as she stroked him, the softness of her palms like a balm to his tortured flesh. Her hands were so small, just like the rest of her. She made him feel like a giant.
Yet she knew what she was doing, rolling her hands over each other, squeezing the wide crest of his dick, then gliding her thumb across it in such a gentle way it made him shudder. Drops of pearly liquid oozed from the tip and she played with them, sliding her fingers through the silken fluid. She lifted her fingers to her mouth and tasted him, making a sound of contentment in the back of her throat that nearly caused him to erupt in her hand.
He pulled her hands away, had to stop her before he finished right there, just like that, with her touching him as if she were worshipping an idol.
He leaned onto the floor and grabbed for a condom package out of his jeans, tearing it open and taking care of business. She was waiting for him, feet planted on the bed and legs parted.
She had the prettiest damn pussy he'd ever seen. Bare, smooth as the silk she'd been wearing. He wanted to bend down and taste her again, but the need to be inside her outweighed the urge to suck on her clit until she screamed for him again. Now he had to force himself to hold back, to take it slow, so he didn't hurt her. No acrobatics, no slamming into her, no acting like all those men she'd had before. As much as he was aching, this was for Grace. He pressed down on top of her, careful to keep his weight off her slender frame. His cock nestled along her bare sex, his balls riding in the cleft of her pussy. He surged forward, wanting to tease her a bit, to make sure she was fully ready for him before he filled her. He took her mouth. Could he ever get enough of the taste of her? The brandy lingered, spicy and hot on her mouth. He sucked her tongue, then licked the soft velvet recesses until she whimpered, arching against him in a wordless plea.
Oh, he liked that. Her begging for his cock. He liked her wanting it as much as he did. She pulled her lips away and leaned back, searching his face, her eyes drugged with passion.
“Mike.”
“Yeah, darlin'?”
“Don't you think we've waited long enough?”
She gripped his arms, raking her nails down his skin. Dug them into his flesh. It felt good, gave him chills. The kind that made his cock lurch forward against her. She let out a gasp and surged up, trying to capture his dick.
“Yeah, I think we have waited long enough.” Though he'd damn well enjoyed the tease. More than he'd ever thought possible. He lifted, positioned his cock head between her pussy lips and pushed in, just a little, watching for signs that it was too much for her. She sucked him in like a vortex of wet heat. Too good. Too damn good.
“More,” she said, her breath warm against his cheek. He turned to her, watching her eyes, looking for hesitation, for anything that would tell him this wasn't what she wanted. All he saw was glittering desire and need.
He drove forward another inch, feeling her pussy lips spread, her body a heated welcome. God, she was so fucking tight, squeezing him past the point of endurance. Sweat broke out on his brow as he surged farther and her cunt pulsed around him, wetness seeping from her and onto his thighs. He stilled, waiting for her to adjust. Grace frowned, pulling at him. “Stop that.”
He knew it, knew he was going to be too big for her. He started to withdraw, but she dug her nails into his forearm. “Don't you dare pull out,” she said.
“You told me to stop.”
With a disgusted sigh, she said, “Stop going so slow. I'm not going to break.” “I'm big.”
“I noticed.”
He felt the pulses of her pussy in response.
“I can handle you.”
With a low growl, he let loose the last of his restraint and thrust forward. She was right. She was wet and more than able to take all of him.
She moaned, lifted, her pussy gripping him so tight he knew he wasn't going to last long. And for a man who prided himself on control, that was a damn hard truth to admit to himself. But he'd held out as long as he could; his balls ached, filled with come and ready to erupt. Grace's pussy was small and tight and with every thrust it clenched his cock in a stranglehold of sensation, her whimpers and moans increasing in intensity, demanding he give her more.
Still, he made love to her slow and easy, kissing her while he
fucked her, licking at her tongue as he rubbed the tight little bud of
her clit with the top of his dick. She was going to get off again before he let go, no matter what kind of agony it cost him. She whimpered again, the begging little sound driving into his brain and making his cock harden more. He pumped long, even strokes into her, stilling to feel her quiver around him, then moved again. She tore her mouth from his and panted. “Goddamn you, Mike, don't do this to me.”
He smiled, kissed his way down her jaw and along her neck, licking at the pulse point there while he gathered her ass cheeks in his hands to draw her closer, wanting her clit tight up against his body while he rocked against her. He wasn't going to answer her— he knew what she needed.
“Oh God, yes,” she said, her voice deep and gravely as she matched each thrust with raised hips and her nails along his back. He lifted his head and looked at her, wanting to watch her when she came. Surprisingly, her eyes were open, too, the purple so dark it was almost black.
“I'm coming,” she whispered, tightening her legs around him. He gripped her ass and pulled harder, trying to crawl deeper inside her as she catapulted into her orgasm, her eyes widening. She screamed, her mouth wide open as she let loose the most beautiful cries he'd ever heard. He couldn't hold back then as an orgasm ripped from his spine and carried him along with her, emptying him from the inside out with shuddering, groaning pulses that poured out in waves of pounding pleasure.
He lifted the top half of his body off her, certain she couldn't breathe. She'd closed her eyes and lay there, panting. When she swept her lids open and smiled at him, he felt such relief he couldn't fathom it.
He held her for a while, stroking her, unable to get enough of
the silken feel of her skin against his hands or the unique scent of
her. He closed his eyes and breathed her in while they lay there together. She stayed quiet and seemed content to let him explore her arms, her ribcage, the soft swell of her hip and thigh. Her breathing was deep and even and he was going to enjoy savoring this while he could.
Finally, he rolled off and stepped into the bathroom, turning on the light and dragging his hand through his hair as he looked at himself in the mirror. He shook his head, pondering the change in him. Different. It had been different with Grace. And that's all he wanted to think about right now. Anything else would have to wait. He finished up and shut the light off, then crawled back into bed, pulling her toward him so her back was against his chest. Her deep, rhythmic breathing told him she was utterly relaxed. He ran his hand along her arm, her hip, then back up her ribs to cup her breast. He traced her nipple with his thumb, smiling when it hardened.
“Surely you couldn't possibly have any energy left,” she said. “You'd be surprised.” He could fuck her all night. Being inside her had felt perfect. And it had energized him. Sex was rarely exhausting. “You've done all the work. You should be tired.” He laughed. “Are you tired?”
She flipped over to face him and slid her hand around his rapidly hardening cock. “Is that a challenge?”
“It might be.”
With a gentle push, he was on his back and she was on top of him, straddling him. Now there was a beautiful sight. Small, upturned breasts glowing in the light filtering in from the windows, her body bathed in the pink afterglow of their lovemaking, her lips puffy from his kisses and her hair messy and tousled from his hands in it. He was fully hard now and she rocked against his erection with a devilish smile.
“I hope you can go without sleep then, Mike, because I never back down from a challenge.”
At six a.m. Grace rolled over with a groan and cursed
the red lights on her clock, wishing she could turn back time about nine or ten hours. Because that's when her bad decision-making had begun.
And it hadn't ended, because Mike was still in her bed. She flipped over and stared at his sleeping form, as alien to her as if she'd found a little green man from Mars sleeping next to her this morning. She shook her head and crept out of bed, slipping into the bathroom as quietly as she could. She needed a shower and some time alone to think. Flipping on the faucet, she stepped inside the stall and let the steamy hot water pour over her head. What had she done? Where had her mind gone, besides totally insane? Men did not spend the night with her. Ever. Even men she knew. There was sex, and then they were gone. Grace slept alone, every single night. She always had. Last night was the first time she'd slept with a man at her side, in her bed. She'd woken this morning snuggled against Mike, his arms wrapped tightly around her. The worst thing about it was, it had felt like waking in heaven.
She'd felt safe and protected.
And she'd never been so terrified. She'd been so careful with her life, keeping barriers between her professional life and personal one. When she occasionally chose men for sex play, she rarely brought them upstairs to her private quarters, and never, ever let someone into her bedroom.
Not to mention waking up in a man's arms.
Last night she'd broken every single one of her personal no-nos.
So why now and why with Mike Nottingham? What made him so different, so special, that she'd done every single thing she swore she'd never do?
She grabbed her shampoo and washed her hair, trying to reason it out while she scrubbed. Something happened that had never happened before—she'd lost control. She was always in charge of the night, of the situation, of the sex—everything. And last night Mike had taken over, and she had let him. Worse, she'd enjoyed letting him. Squeezing her eyes shut, she rinsed shampoo from her hair, then applied conditioner and let it sit while she soaped her body and shaved her legs, pondering her dilemma. The problem with Mike was he was so different from the other men she knew. The ballsy braggarts, the ones who claimed they could take her to heaven and back and fuck her like she'd never been fucked before . . . those guys she could deal with because she was used to them. Someone like Mike—quiet, unassuming, but who really did take her to heaven and back by giving her the best sex of her life—and not by fucking her brains out, but by honest to God great lovemaking—he scared the beejeebers out of her. Because she could care about a guy like him. A genuine, honest, sexy, dominant, alpha, hardworking, gorgeous, real man. There didn't seem to be anything phony about him. He was what he was, he made her feel magical, and just thinking about him made her toes curl, her nipples tighten and her pussy quiver.
God almighty, she had to get him out of her house in a hurry. Too much was at stake. Wild Nights was her baby, her life, everything she'd worked her ass off for. No man was going to insinuate his way into her heart and screw everything up. No man was going to make her start thinking about how lonely she'd been all these years and how nice it was not to wake up alone. No man was going to make her rethink her priorities. Oh no. She so wasn't going there. She'd been fine on her own since she was eighteen, and she'd continue to be okay without Mike Nottingham.

She finished rinsing and shut the shower off, grabbed a towel and stepped out, furiously drying herself as if she could somehow erase every trace of his touch from her body. Okay, so maybe she'd blown all of this out of proportion. Mike was a great fuck and he wasn't the first or the last of those. He was nothing, really. And she felt nothing out of the ordinary for him. The fact that he was still here meant nothing. A momentary lapse in judgment. A quirk. An anomaly.
Until the bathroom door opened and he stepped in. All six foot something of him, naked, erect and looking sleepy, his thick, dark hair messy, with a goofy smile on his face and his deep blue eyes staring down at her in a sexy-as-hell manner that made her throat dry up. “Mornin',” he said. “Hope I'm not in your way.”
“Not at all,” she managed, squeaking by him to finish drying off in her bedroom. Avoidance was good, since she wasn't prepared for her reaction to him. Okay, so maybe she was affected just a bit.
Or a lot. Like one look at him and her heart was pounding, her
pulse was racing and everything feminine in her body was screaming
Let's repeat last night all over again.
Yeah, he had to go. Right now.