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Authors: Susan Johnson

French Kiss (18 page)

BOOK: French Kiss
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After an initial frenzy of orgasms, he left her sprawled on the bed and, stripping off his clothes, walked over to the French doors and opened them to the night. Standing in the doorway, he let the air cool his sweat-drenched body, gave himself a few
moments to come back down, surveyed the moonlit sea with a new appreciation for its beauty.

As though prime sex heightened one’s sensibilities.

“Don’t be gone long.”

He smiled and swung around. “As if I could.”

Opening her arms wide, she wiggled her fingers. “Bring me some moonbeams and yourself and
hurry
.

Ordinarily he would have resented such a command. But nothing about this night was ordinary. “You already have me,” he said, softly. “How many moonbeams do you want?”

“Just enough to warm me.”

“I can do that better,” he said with a smile, retracing his path from the bed. “I can make you hotter than any moonbeams.”

“I know—I know, I
know,”
she said, joyful and full of play. “And it’s early yet.”

“That works out, ’cause I’m greedy as hell.” Bending low, he kissed her smile. “And talking of greedy pleasures, this dress has to go,” he murmured, lifting her into a seated position.

“I thought you liked it.”

Her bottom li
p settled into a delectable littl
e pout that made her look sweet and sexy at the same time. “I love it.” He grinned. “But not in bed.”

She smiled, instantly mollified. “Oh, that’s what you mean.” She turned her back to him. “Unzip me, then.”

The way she said it, like it was a routine matter, like he
u
nzipped her dresses all the time, like they’d been here like this in the moonlight many times before—was strangely gratifying. A halcyon, cozy little moment. He might have thought the word
cozy
foreign to his world. But instead he found it charming.

Unzipping her
dress, he bent his head and softl
y kissed the nape of her neck. “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

“Silly question,” she whispered, turning back and smiling up at him. “Take this off for starters.” She lifted her arms.

He pulled off her dress, tossed it aside, and suddenly grinned. “No bra. I like that.”

“Practicality. I’m always in a hurry with you.”

“But just with me.” Fuck. Why did he say that?

“You want the truth?”

For a second he wanted to say,
No, no, forget it.
But he didn’t. He said, “Yeah.”

She hesitated, looked away, looked back. “I shouldn’t say.”

“Tell me.” Clearly, he was deranged.

Her nose twitched like a bunny uncertain of what direction to take. Then she took a breath and said with a defiant tilt of her chin, “I only feel this way with you. Ar
e
you satisfied?”

“Definitely.” This from a man who had always prided himself on his complete lack of possessiveness.

“So now you know.” She made a small moue. “I’ve been trying hard to stay aloof, but there it is—I’m as adoring as all the other females you run across.”

“You’re not like them at all,” he said, sof
tl
y. “And I adore you right back—so there.”

“Fucking smooth talker,” she said with a grin.

“I believe that’s in my resume.” He laughed. “But in this case it’s no bull. And once you see the presents I bought you,” he added, sportively, “you’re going to adore me even more.” Preferring playful banter to a conversation that had damned near turned serious, he walked to the dresser and picked up two packages the
housekeeper had brought up. Returning a moment later, he handed them to Nicky. “Adore these, babe," he said, dropping into a sprawl beside her.

The two small boxes were wrapped in silver paper. “Here’s where I say, you shouldn’t have,” she murmured, smiling at him.

He turned his head on the pillow and met her gaze. “And here’s where I say, I hope you like them.”

“How could I not if you bought them?”

He was surprised it mattered that she like them. After buying coun
tl
ess gifts for coun
tl
ess women, these simple and inexpensive objects should be irrelevant. But he found himself watching her face as she opened the first box.

“Oh

how wonderful,” she exclaimed, pulling out a miniature, porcelain tree house. “This is what you bought at the toy store!”

He smiled, gratified at her expression of wonder. “I thought of you when I saw it. The door opens; there’s people inside.” Carefully easing the small door open, she dipped her head and looked inside. The detail was startling, the execution phe
nomenal. A man, woman, and littl
e girl were seated at a table, their arms and legs moveable, even their eyes opened and shut. “It’s gorgeous!” Leaning over, she kissed him. “I can’t thank you enough!”

He grinned. “I can think of a few ways you can thank me. But open the other package first.”

“Ohmygod!” she marveled, unwrapping a small box of Roussel chocolates. “How did you do it?”

“One phone call and a messenger service. Do you like them?”

“Do fish swim? You’re gonna have to wait while I eat these,” she said, setting the tree house on the bedside table, fluffing her
pillow up and leaning back with the box of chocolates in hand. “Don’t interrupt me now,” she murmured, a chocolate already halfway to her mouth.

“What happens if I do?”

“I won’t even notice.”

“Is that a fact?”

She looked up at his roguish tone.
“Okay,
I’ll notice.”

“Thank you. I wouldn’t want to be outclassed by a few chocolates.”

But she seemed not to have heard him, and he smiled to himself. Not that his ego couldn’t take a lit
tl
e competition, not that he couldn’t wait to fuck her for a few minutes. Not that he wasn’t enjoying himself just lying beside her and watching her.

Maybe he was just so whacked-out from exhaustion, he was more easily disarmed by her winsome charm.

Or maybe her charms had more to do with hot sex than winsomeness and he was caught up in some rare, lewd sorcery.

Or maybe it just felt good to lie here
and
watch her eat chocolates.

And wait his turn.

He laughed.

“What?” Her mouth full of chocolate, she looked at him.

“Nothing. Take your time.”

She gave him a chocolatey smile.

Funny about chocolatey smiles, he thought. They were sexy as hell.

You learn something every day.

Maybe that’s why men gave women chocolates.

Maybe it was all about giving something and getting something.

*
*
*

H
e
must have
dozed off, because he came awake with a start and the realization that he was alone in bed.

Overcome with a sudden and novel moment of panic he quickly surveyed the room.

“You’re awake.”

She was standing nude in the moonlight by the balcony door, smiling at him. “Did I sleep long?” he drowsily murmured.

“Maybe ten minutes.” She was moving toward him. “I didn’t want to wake you. I knew you were tired.”

“I feel rested now.” He lifted his arms to her. “Come keep me company.”

It was code for something else.

She knew.

He knew.

His rising erection was in on the secret as well.

“Are you sure you’re not too tired,” she gently said as she reached the bed. “I feel as though I’m more demanding than I should be.”

His abs rippled as he surged upward and grabbed her. “I’m not tired.” Lifting her off her feet, he set her on his hips, running his hands down her arms and hands, twining his fingers through hers. “I feel fine. Did you like the view out there?”

“It’s gorgeous—like a scene out of a movie. Moonlight over the Mediterranean. A warm summer night, the scent of jasmine in the air.”


The view from here’s even better,” he murmured, sliding his fingers from hers. Raising his hands, he cupped her heavy breasts, the pliant weight resting on his palms. “Venus de Milo in the flesh.”

At his touch her nipples had stiffened and swelled. It felt as though her breasts were enlarging just from the heat of his hands. Or the heat from his eyes. Or the heat from his testicles resting against her crotch and the tantalizing sight of his huge, rigid cock lying hard against his stomach.

Only inches away.

Close enough to touch.

She lifted her hand to reach for him.

“Wait,” he said.

“Why?”

“Let’s make this last a little longer this time.”

“Why?”

He laughed. “You prefer instant gratification?”

“Always.”

“Sometimes waiting makes it better.”

“Don’t tell me about your sometimes,” she said, sulkily, as though she had the right.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have said that.” Lifting her breasts so they mounded
softl
y, he rose in an effortless sit-up and bending his head, took one of her nipples into his mouth, gratified to hear her sharp intake of breath as his lips closed ove
r the taut crest. He sucked gentl
y, first one, then the other, exerting the precise degree of pressure that soon had her squirming and wiggling, seesawing back and forth on his hips.

He took his time, as though he were intent on soothing her sulkiness, as though he knew exact
l
y how to temper her mood and inflame her senses. When she began to pant, he whispered against her taut nipple, “Should I stop?”

Yes, she wanted to say. I want more than this; I want you. But the pressure of his mouth was sending waves of flame-hot bliss
downward between her legs and caught between the reality of immediate satisfaction and the unknown, she whispered back, “Don’t stop.” As adjunct to her order, she slid her fingers through his dark hair and pulled his head closer.

Even if she
had
been unsure, he would have known better, her hot little cunt so wet she was slipping on his hips. “Do you want to come now or later?” he teased, lifting his mouth just enough to make himself heard.

“Cute,” she said, her grip tightening on his head, her breathing frenzied.

And then as though in answer to his question, she instantly climaxed in a quivering, breathless, remarkably quiet, little orgasm.

When her eyes opened a few moments later, he was lying back on the pillow, a faint smile on his face. “You should slow down and smell the roses.”

“Speak for yourself,” she sweetly replied. “But thank you very much. Again.” Leaning over, she touched the engorged head of his erection. “I expect you’re thinking it’s your turn about now.”

“Not really.” He was enjoying himself. She was a rare delight. Cheeky and naive at the same time. Independent as they come and small-town polite. “I’m having fun. You’re so easy to turn on.”

“It’s you. It’s all you. I’m ravenous, insatiable”—she grinned— “lost to all reason. And let me tell you, it’s a damned good feeling.”

He chuckled. “So now what?”

Her eyes widened. “You’re asking me? How polite do I have to be?”

“Just so long as there’s no animals involved, I’m good.”

She smiled. “Would we disturb anyone if we sat on the balcony in the moonlight. I don’t get to places like this very often.”

“The others are sleeping on the pool side. We won’t disturb anyone.”

She leaned way down and kissed him, a soft, lingering kiss. “Thanks. For everything. I mean it. I’m really enjoying myself.”

Her breasts were pressed against his chest, the warmth of her body soft as silk, her sweet good nature overcoming his usual reserve. Sliding his palms
down her back, he held her lightl
y in his arms and whispered, “I should be thanking you. I’ve never felt this enchantment.”

She replied with equal grace. “It must be the moonlight. Come, let’s go outside.” She didn’t want to think of him saying things like that to other women. Call her foolish, but there it was. She’d fallen under his spell.

Like every other woman.

He slid his hands under her arms, swung her off the bed, and followed her to her feet in an effortless flow of muscled strength. He’d had his moment, too; he might have said too much. He didn’t as a rule disclose his feelings so baldly.

They were both more careful after that.

Only playing at love.

Or sex. That was safer yet.

But it was unalloyed pleasure whatever you called it.

And their time together at the villa by the sea was bliss, pure and simple.

BOOK: French Kiss
8.17Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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