Out of Control (19 page)

He grinned. “You say that like it's a bad thing.”

“Not bad. Just out of control. I can't stop, ah…”

“Coming? I know.” His grin widened. “You're incredible. I lost count. I've never been with anyone so responsive. It's great.” He fluttered his tongue across her clitoris. “Go on, do it some more.”

She writhed, against the delicious sensation. “It's not me,” she protested. “I've never been like this with anyone. Not even by myself. It's you. I don't even know what you're doing that's so different—”

“Savoring you.” He pressed a hot kiss against her mound, and suckled her intimately. “Taking my time. Treating you right. Is that so strange? Why does it rattle you?”

She had no good answer for that. She just pushed gently at his face. “Please,” she whispered. “Really. Back off. I can't take any more.”

He wiped his chin. “Now?” His voice was incredulous. “You want to stop now? This is just the beginning.”

“No. I mean, yes,” she stammered. “I just need a moment to get myself together. I won't leave you high and dry. I'll make you come. I love making you come. But I can't stand crumbling to pieces anymore.”

Davy fished around the sheets for the condom, ripped it open with his teeth and spat out the chunk of wrapper. “No fucking way.”

His tone alarmed her. “Don't be mad. I just meant—”

“I know exactly what you meant. You think I'm falling for that bullshit? Pull back now, and give you a chance to put all your barriers back up?” He rolled the condom over himself. “Then you'll do your tough chick routine, and pretend you don't need anything or anyone.”

Her jaw dropped. “But I never said…I only meant…”

“I'm onto you, Margot.” He shoved her down against the pillows. “I'm not backing off. You had your chance to change your mind. I gave you more than one. So forget it.”

“You're overreacting,” she protested. “I never said that I wanted you to—” Her words stuttered off as he pressed the thick bulb of his penis against her soft folds, sliding inside. “Oh, Davy.”

“I've got you exactly where I want you. I'd be a goddamn idiot to let you wiggle away from me now. So just deal with me.”

She was overwhelmed by his big, hot body poised over hers, his thick shaft pushing against the resistance of her body. She was drenched with her own juices, and even so, she felt invaded.

He paused, holding most of his weight off her. “Go ahead.” His voice was taunting. “Fight me. I know you want to.”

His tone infuriated her. “You bastard.” She shoved his chest, trying to dislodge him, and suddenly understood his strategy. With every writhing wiggle that she made, he slid deeper until he was wedged inside her, and she was panting with a volatile mix of fury and excitement. Her body clenched around him, and he seconded every move she made. Before she knew it, instead of fighting, she was sliding up and down his big phallus, jerking her hips to meet him.

His smile of triumph maddened her. “You love it,” he muttered.

“Sneaky, underhanded, dominating jerk,” she told him breathlessly. “Get that self-satisfied look off your face right now.”

“I can't help but notice that you're not telling me to stop.”

She swatted at his chest. He caught her hands in his and pinned them down on either side of her head. “What does it mean when you hit me? Does it mean you want me to fuck you harder? Like…this?”

She cried out at the sensation of his penis stroking heavily over that mystery spot inside that flushed and glowed with ever-sharpening pulses of pleasure. “Damn you, Davy,” she whispered.

“I just want to get it right,” he said huskily. “I can tell it works for you, because I fit perfectly now. All of me. You hug me. So hot and wet.”

This was all wrong, all backwards. This wasn't the way she ran her sex life, when she had one. Like being on the bottom. She vastly preferred the top, always had. Feeling squished and breathless made her irritated, and besides which, she had to control the pace and the angle if she wanted a chance in hell of working up a decent climax.

But having orgasms was clearly not a problem with Davy McCloud. The real challenge was to make the orgasms stop for long enough to think a coherent thought. His angle was perfect. His pace was ideal. His big body thrusting heavily into hers was erotic perfection.

She melted softer at every stroke. She didn't even notice the shift when it happened. When she drifted back from the umpteenth rippling shimmer of delight, too limp to move, her terror of disappearing was gone. She wasn't fighting anymore. She didn't remember deciding to stop. He'd won, and she was too exhausted and blissed out to care.

Davy's gaze was fixed on her, an odd expression almost like longing on his face. She reached up, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “Hey. Don't you ever come yourself?”

“Sure I do.” He kissed her, caressing her full lower lip with lingering softness. “Wrap your legs around me.”

She obliged him, and sighed with pleasure as they rocked together, clasped tight. “When?” she demanded.

“When you're done,” he said simply.

“Oh.” She pulled his face closer to kiss him. “Well, then. I'm done. You've proved your point. I'm impressed. You're the man. OK?”

He nodded. She was vaguely surprised when he pulled away from her embrace and sat up on his knees, folding her legs high and wide.

“Davy?” She held out her arms. “Come back to—”

“No,” he said curtly.

He thrust himself inside her, his face rigid and far away. The fleeting moment of vulnerability was gone. She'd lost him.

She jerked up onto her elbows and clutched his upper arms, bracing herself against the sensual assault of his body. The muscles were corded on his neck, his jaw so tight, he looked like he was in pain. His eyes closed as his hips slammed against hers. He didn't want to see her, didn't want to be seen. It made her feel lonely and betrayed. So intimately joined, and yet so far away from him. He let out a choked sound, and flung his head back as his orgasm wrenched him.

She dragged him down against her body, holding him tightly, but he'd already retreated to a place too far away for her to find or reach.

R
eeling back from the brink. That was how it felt, a panicky burst of vertigo, the
what-the-fuck-am-I-doing
feeling exploding in his mind.

He slowly drew his cock out of the tight clasp of her body, and extricated himself from her slender limbs without looking into her eyes.

The feeling was too close to euphoria to be called bad, too similar to terror to be called good. The only way to deal with it was to keep his mouth shut until he got a grip on himself.

He rolled off the bed, his back to her, and pulled the condom off.

Margot sat up behind him. He sensed the question she was too shy to ask, but he had no answer. He'd hurt her by pulling back at the last minute. It hadn't been a conscious choice, but he still felt like shit.

“Davy?” she asked. “Are you—”

“Got to get rid of this thing.” He fled to the bathroom before she could ask if he was OK. He would either have to lie and say he was fine, which would be tough in the face of blatant evidence to the contrary, or else explain his behavior. And his feelings. Not his strong point.

He had nothing to say. He'd invested years of his life learning techniques to not feel this way, and all his efforts were for nothing.

Margot was perched on the edge of the bed, lying in ambush when he came out of the bathroom. She was so gorgeous stark naked, with her hair rumpled, a sharp, hectic flush on her high cheekbones. Pissed off. About to give him hell, which he deserved. His wildcat.

His cock rose to full salute instantly.

Her eyes widened. “Wow. That was quick.”

He shrugged. His voice was locked in his throat.

It became evident that he wasn't going to reply, and her soft throat bobbed as she swallowed, hard. “Are you coming back to bed?”

He stared at the high, tight points of her full breasts, the curves and hollows of her body, her soft red lips, puffy from being kissed. If he got into bed with her, he would end up on top of her again in seconds. He'd already overdone it. He had to back off, for both their sakes.

“I'm going to go get some work done,” he said. “Try to sleep.”

“
Sleep?
” Her eyes narrowed to bright slits. “Are you nuts? You're blowing me off? Now?”

“You said you were done, right? No more sex. I'm trying to—”

“Stop trying so hard. Come here. Right now.” She held out an imperious hand, and he was drawn to her like a magnet, dragged by his dumb handle. Margot grasped his cock in her hand and cupped her other hand around his ass, pulling him close.

“You're chickening out on me,” she accused him. “After all that self-righteous crap about not letting me put up barriers.”

“I am not,” he growled. “I'm right here.”

“Huh-uh. You're a million miles away. Even with a monster hard-on, you do the ice cube act. You pulled me to pieces and then left me all alone when you came. Don't think I didn't notice, buddy.”

“I didn't—”

“I consider that a challenge,” she announced. “I'm not letting you get away with it.” She gripped his cock in both hands and leaned over him, her tongue circling the swollen tip, a hot swirl of blissful sensation.

He almost fell to his knees. “Damn it, Margot. Stop this. I can't—”

“Why not?” Her eyes flicked up at him, bright with mischief, and her mouth went back to working tender magic on the head of his cock.

He steadied himself on her shoulders. Margot pulled him even closer, and cupped her bosom, pushing it high so that his cock slid into the warm velvet cleft between her breasts. The empurpled tip poked its head out the top, gleaming with pre-come.

Stupidly enthusiastic, no matter how the rest of him felt.

“I could make you come like this,” she said. “Or you could lie down on the bed and let me do to you exactly what you did to me. How did you put it? Savoring you. Taking my time. Treating you right.”

“You've already shown me how good you are at oral sex.”

“Oh, that was ages ago. You deserve another five-star blow job by now. You're fabulous, Davy. I've got to scramble to make points.”

“This isn't a goddamn game that one of us has to win!”

She drew back, stung. “Wow,” she murmured. “You weren't kidding when you said you were humor challenged.”

He grabbed a pair of sweatpants from the top of the clean laundry pile and yanked them on. “I never kid.”

“Oh. OK. Excuse me. No smiles, no jokes, no laughter allowed. We're dead serious here. God forbid that I should tease you.”

He threw up his hands in furious frustration. “Damn it!”

“Don't tell me this isn't a game,” she said hotly. “You tricked me into opening up, and then you cheated and did the disappearing act. Davy McCloud, superstud. Whips the girls into a frenzy and doesn't even work up a sweat.”

He looked down at his erection, his shaking hands. “I sweated,” he said dourly. “Believe me.”

“Gee, thanks for admitting that the experience actually affected you in some way,” she snapped.

“You affect me,” he said. “You certainly affect my judgment. Otherwise we wouldn't be here.”

“Meaning what?” she demanded. “That only crazed volcanic lust would override your judgment to the extent of getting involved with a hard-luck case like me?”

Honesty compelled his answer. “Something like that.”

He hated what happened to her face. The red flush faded to icy pale, the bright glitter in her gorgeous eyes was suddenly veiled. It was like a light going out. It made his gut ache, become a cold, hard knot.

Margot pulled the sheet up, looking away from him. “All right.” Her voice was muffled. “Work your head off. I'm figuring out the rules. I won't violate the boundaries of your narrow little comfort zone again.”

He wanted to hurl a chair through the window. “I'm just trying to keep this under…” His voice cut off as he searched for another word.

“Control,” she finished for him. “As long as you're running things, everything's fine, but the minute I make a move, you freak out. You—”

“That's enough.”

His command voice had no discernible effect on Margot. She charged right on while the tension inside him rose, coiling tighter.

“Maybe you can control your feelings, but you can't control mine. I tried to keep my distance, but you kept following me around, driving me nuts. Luring me with sex.
Want a piece of candy, little girl?
Hah! And when I finally fall for it, you take what you want and it's bye-bye, Margot. Go to sleep. Like I'm a doll with an on-off switch—”

“Shut
up
!” He was on top of her, pinning her to the mattress. Blood pounding loudly in his head. As surprised as she was.

They were both shocked into total stillness.

“Whoa,” she whispered. “Chill, Davy.”

He lifted himself up off her body. “Shit,” he muttered. “Sorry.”

“Um, no harm done, I guess.” Her voice was small, her eyes wide.

“I'd better get out of here,” he said.
Before I fuck up even worse.

She scrunched down into the bed and pulled the sheet up until only her big, shadowy eyes regarded him over the edge. “McCloud?”

They were back to the surname. Bad sign. “Yeah?”

“Do not ever tell me to shut up again. That's not OK.”

“I won't,” he said.

He had no idea if he could keep his promise. He couldn't guarantee a thing. He stood there, staring at her stupidly, until she made an impatient gesture with her hand.

“Well? So? Are you going, or are you just going to stand there like a stump?”

He stalked out, slamming the door before he could stop himself.

He didn't understand what was happening to him. This was regression. Retro-evolution. Neanderthal behavior that he'd always despised in other men, like trying to win an argument with a woman using physical intimidation. Classic asshole stuff. The impulse to blunt unwelcome emotions with alcohol, that was another big winner. A pointless shortcut that led exactly nowhere.

Come to think of it, nowhere sounded kind of relaxing tonight.

He headed into the kitchen and rummaged through the cabinet, through the tomato sauce, pickles, oil, spices, beans. The whiskey wasn't there. He never put it anywhere else. Weird. Maybe Sean, for the first and only time in his haphazard life, had put it someplace before leaving the other night. Not likely, but he had no other explanation.

He tried the other cupboards, scanned the other rooms, checked the back porch. He even looked in the fridge, just to be thorough.

So much for drowning his discomfort in alcohol. He had beer, but beer wasn't the right vibe for this raw, scary feeling.

He headed into his office, logged on and started his Internet search with the names Margaret Callahan and Craig Caruso. Two hours later, he was still poring through archived news articles, his eyes burning with weariness. It looked bad for her.

Getting his hands on Snakey was Margot's best chance for unraveling that knot. His instincts told him that Snakey wouldn't stay far away for long. The sick creep was in love. It was almost funny. He tried so hard to keep his love life non-problematic, and now he had a crazy assassin as a romantic rival. Time to start packing the Glock.

He heard the cell phone buzz from the other room, and headed into the kitchen to check it out. It was Sean.

He hit “talk.” “What the hell are you doing awake at this hour?”

“Wondering why you haven't been answering your house or cell phones for the last five hours,” Sean responded. “I was worried.”

“I turned the volume down,” Davy said. “Margot needed sleep.”

“Oh!” Sean cackled with delight. “So that's your excuse for missing the rehearsal dinner! Sleazy bastard. You were the bad brother tonight for once, not me. It's kind of refreshing to take a break.”

Davy's jaw sagged in dismay. He sank down into a chair. “Rehearsal—oh, fuck, no. You're kidding me. That was tonight?”

“You knew the wedding is tomorrow, didn't you? Besides, I only knew it was tonight because you told me.” Sean was enjoying himself hugely. “You even wrote it on my girlie calendar the last time you were at my place. You knew. At least you did before sex hormones wiped your brain clean. Bye-bye, Mr. Perfect. Nice knowin' ya.”

Davy rubbed his face and groaned. “I can't believe it.”

“Yeah, neither could anyone else. Nobody was fussed about it except Erin's mom, though, so don't sweat it,” Sean said, relenting. “I told Barbara that any guy capable of coordinating army intel in Middle Eastern hot spots was up to handling a wedding ceremony on the fly. She was real unimpressed, though. I hope I didn't make things worse for you. Prepare for some freezing glances.”

Davy groaned softly. “I'll live. We'll be there before two. You can fill me in on the choreography before the ceremony.”

There was a delicate pause. “We?”

“Yeah, yeah, I'm bringing her along,” Davy said tersely. “But don't get gooey on me. Things are just too strange to leave her alone here.”

“Yeah? Strange how? Tell me!”

Davy paused. “You alone? Or is your bed full?”

“She's asleep,” Sean assured him. “No problem.”

“Like hell. Get your clothes on and go outside,” Davy said. “I don't want to discuss this in front of one of your bridesmaids.”

Sean's voice made soothing, explanatory murmurs. A drowsy feminine voice in the background responded to them.

“OK,” Sean said, after a few moments. “Goodbye warm sheets and smooth, silky female limbs. I'm shivering half naked and barefoot on the cold, wet grass of the lawn to suit your paranoid whims, so out with it.”

“How is the bridesmaid situation shaping up, anyhow?”

Sean made a growling sound. “Succulent. It's the bridesmaid buffet. A nibble of this, a nibble of that. There's Marika, the blonde waif with the big gray eyes who's wearing lapis blue. I'm escorting Belle, this cute, chubby redhead with yards of cleavage who's wearing amethyst purple. I just want to put 'em in my pocket and take 'em all home.”

Davy grinned to himself. “Which one are you in bed with now?”

“Oh, that is Cleo. She's wearing topaz. She's hot. They're all hot. But get to the point. It's friggin' cold out here in the middle of the night. What is it with Margot? Is it just the stalker, or is there more?”

“Do you have a gun with you up there?” Davy asked.

“Uh…yeah, sure,” Sean said slowly. “I've got the Sig. Why?”

“Wear it under your tux tomorrow,” Davy said.

Sean whistled. “Spill it.”