Chapter Four

Chris paused for a second as he gathered his control. He didn’t want to slide those cotton-candy panties down. He wanted to rip them off, throw her on the bed and sink his cock into her pussy. She would no doubt be tighter than a fist, her muscles clamping down on his shaft. And smelling her, knowing she was wet just from what little foreplay they’d engaged in, wasn’t any easier. But he restrained himself. This wasn’t about him, about his pleasures. Watching Cynthia gain confidence with her play of domination was more arousing than anything he’d ever observed. Through her pleasure, he would gain his own.

As he reached out, his fingers trembled. For good reason. He was worried that with just one touch he would lose it. The woman had him so close to coming in his pants like a teenager. He would bet she didn’t even realize the extent of her power over him. Slipping his thumbs beneath the lacy ridge of her panties, he brushed his fingers against her bare ass.

Jesus Christ, she was wearing a thong. He’d have loved to see her in it from behind. She was a small woman. The skirt had outlined her curves, showing off her world-class ass. He almost passed out at the memory of it rubbing against his cock. Swallowing, he pulled himself together and gently tugged on the panties. As he moved them down her legs, he skimmed his fingers against her thigh-highs. By the time he arrived at her ankles, his whole body fairly vibrated with need. His dick throbbed, his balls ached, and his brain was no longer functioning. All the blood in his big head had rushed downward.

Daintily—because Cynthia did everything that way, even when she was ordering him about—she stepped out of the panties. When he straightened, the thatch of curly blonde hair, a shade darker than that on her head, caught his attention. Neatly trimmed, the curls were wet with her passion, the musky scent filling his senses. Damn, she smelled good.

“Chris.”

He loved the way she said his name. Long, lazy, Southern. It wound its way down his spine, sent his heartbeat out of control. He looked up and smiled, hoping to placate her. She was frowning at him, that wrinkle appearing between her eyebrows. In the few short hours he’d known her, Chris had found himself observing small mannerisms most people probably overlooked. He noticed things about women all the time, but Cynthia didn’t seem to be able to hide her emotions from him. He had a feeling she’d masked them for years. It gave him satisfaction to know she couldn’t do that with him. Whether it was the alcohol, or him, it didn’t matter. All he cared about was that he was the lucky bastard she’d chosen for her wild night of sex.

“Yes, Cynthia?”

She drew in a deep breath and swallowed. Even in the dim light he could see her pulse beat a rapid tattoo in her throat. For all her bravado, this was hard for her. The power was intoxicating. Personal experience taught him the unbelievable thrill of domination. But for someone like Cynthia, someone who had no experience in this sort of thing, it could be just as frightening.

“You’re wearing too many clothes.” The words came out in a whispered rush, as if she were afraid of saying what she desired. Chris was sure he could teach her that there was nothing wrong with what she wanted.

He couldn’t stop the tiny smile that statement caused. “And what would you have me do about it?”

She stepped back, the outsides of her thighs brushing his. His skin already burned with the need to be caressed by her hands, by her mouth. The fabric of his pants rubbed against his inner thighs and his balls, increasing his arousal.

Jesus .

Another jolt of heat rushed through him. A slight touch and he was ready to explode. He resisted the urge to give his cock a stroke because he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t blow his load with that one pump.

“Stand up.” This time her voice was more forceful, more confident. And damn if there wasn’t another burst of lust warming his blood at that sound.

He complied, his pants undone, hanging on his hips. She walked around him, gently urging him to step away from the bed. The bedsprings squeaked as she sat down.

“You can turn around.”

He did, knowing the rules of the game even if she didn’t. When he saw her reclining on the bed, one arm over her head, those pretty pink nipples hard and pointing right at him, it was hard not to say fuck the game and jump her right then and there. She must have seen something in his face because when he met her gaze, her eyes widened. He curled his fingers into his palms.

Her gaze slipped down his body, her breath hitching when she reached his groin. She licked her lips, and his dick twitched, another drop of cum rising to wet the head.

She cleared her throat. “Now, take off your pants.” He grabbed the waistband, but she stopped him with her next comment. “And do it slowly.”

The gritty determination in her voice resembled a command rather than a request. Her excitement, and the strength he felt growing within her, awakened something he thought dead. This went beyond lust or desire. She was lying there on the bed, wearing nothing but a pair of thigh-highs, tossing commands at him.

As she’d ordered, he slid his pants down. Once he’d tossed them to the side, along with his socks, he straightened. Her pink tongue swept over her plump lips again, leaving behind a glaze of wetness. She was going to drive him crazy with that tongue. He could imagine it gliding down his chest, past his stomach, to his—

“Turn around.”

Again, he was struck by the command in her voice. She was gaining confidence and driving him out of his mind in the process. He did as instructed. When he turned so that he faced away from the bed, he stopped moving. She shifted her weight and the bed creaked. His breath caught in his throat as she approached him. Chris didn’t need sound to tell him she was near. Her feminine musk mixed with her perfume was strong enough for him to smell, but there was also something else, something electric in him when she drew closer. As if Cynthia flipped a switch within him.

“Back up a bit.”

The instant his legs touched the bed, her hands were on him. At first, they glided down his back. When they reached his ass, she hesitated, then continued on. Her breathing deepened as her fingers whispered across his skin.

“Oh my.”

The breathless sigh sent a rush of warmth that sank beneath his flesh. She continued to murmur her approval as she bent forward. Her hair brushed against him as she touched her lips to the fullest part of one ass cheek. It was an open-mouthed caress, her tongue swiping along his skin, her teeth following. He shuddered. She moved from one cheek to the other, her hand replacing her tongue as she went along.

Slowly, she worked her way up his back. As her mouth slid against his flesh, the words she’d said earlier echoed in his mind. Her tongue darted out before each kiss.

He’d done a lot in the bedroom, tried just about every scenario his mind or any of his partners could conjure up, but never in his life had he felt this. It was as if she were savoring him, tasting him like a forbidden treat. Her hands snaked around his waist and slipped up to his chest as she pressed her body against his back. Murmuring incoherently beneath her breath, she nipped his earlobe, then licked. The action caused him to curl his toes into the carpet. By the time she shifted to the other ear, her fingers were caressing his nipples, pinching them slightly. His knees went a little weak.

Much to his disappointment, she stopped. She scooted around him and stood, then, completely taking him by surprise, she pushed him. Not being prepared, he lost his balance and fell onto the bed, bouncing once before she pounced on him. She straddled his hips, placed her hands on either side of his head and grinned down at him. Her hair was even more out of control than before, her eyes filled with desire. This wasn’t the timid creature he’d met earlier in the day. This was a temptress. And he was going to reap the rewards.

Her hips gyrated, her pussy pressing against his cock. He closed his eyes, trying to ignore her damp heat. Temptation beckoned. Chris knew he was moments from slipping into her sweet sex and finding satisfaction. She sat up, forcing her cunt harder against his dick.

He opened his eyes, and his mouth went dry. She’d crossed her arms beneath her breasts. There was no way for him to resist. Sitting up, he reversed their positions and fastened his mouth on her breast the moment she was settled. Sweet Jesus, she tasted good. As he transferred his attention to her other breast, her legs shifted restlessly. He grazed his teeth over her nipple. She gasped, then moaned when he did it a second time.

He moved down her body, his own throbbing, begging for release. But Cynthia’s pleasure came first. Soft as a rose petal, the skin of her stomach quivered as he dipped his tongue into her navel. When he reached her dripping pussy, he drew in a deep breath. The blonde curls were damp with her need. His mind spun at the sweet musky scent of her arousal.

Looking up at her, he waited for her approval. She pulled herself up to her elbows and nodded. He caught her gaze and leaned forward and licked her slit. Moaning, she allowed her head to fall back, her eyes drifting closed. He placed a hand on each thigh, pushing them wider, and slipped his tongue between her folds. Her taste exploded in his mouth. Sweet, with a hint of sass, just like the woman herself, and he couldn’t get enough of her. As he continued to lick her, he thrust one finger into her cunt. Holy Mother of God. Her muscles clamped down on his finger with the grip of a linebacker. He couldn’t wait to drive his cock into her pussy.

She moved against his mouth. As her moans grew louder, he felt the tension within her grow, tighten, push to the edge. He knew she was close, so he pressed his thumb on her clit once…twice…

She exploded, her body convulsing with her orgasm. He pulled back, continuing to caress her as she came, but enjoying the sight of her was too much to resist. Her eyes were closed, her hair a tangled halo around her head, her mouth open and moaning his name. The sight was almost as satisfying as if it were his own orgasm. Moments later, she settled, her body going limp. Knowing he would not survive another incident like that, he jumped off the bed, grabbed his wallet and drew out a condom.

In record time, he had it on and returned to the bed. He covered her body with his. Cynthia opened her eyes halfway and smiled at him. His heart flipped and took a dive at the sight of her lips curving with satisfaction, her body loose-limbed from her orgasm.

He bent his head and took her lips in an openmouthed kiss. Cynthia responded immediately, her tongue tangling with his. As he devoured her mouth, he shifted his hands down to her hips, angling them the way he liked. She protested when he pulled away, but he would not be deterred. Taking his cock in one hand, he positioned it at her entrance. As he slid into her pussy, her eyes shut, but not before he witnessed desire rising again. He captured her hips with both hands and pushed further into her warmth. Even though she was dripping with arousal, she was tight as a virgin. Inch by inch, he entered her, allowing her muscles a second or two to adjust. By the time he was in her to the hilt, his body screamed for release. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he began to move.

Chris wanted to take it slow, but as her head thrashed about on the pillow and she moaned his name—begging, demanding that he go faster—he moved to his knees, changing his angle. As he continued to thrust in and out, her moans grew, her body tightened around his, and she came again. Her pussy clasped his cock, drawing it deeper, milking him. Chris thrust hard into her as his balls drew tight. In that one moment, he hurtled over the edge and his body exploded, her name on his lips.

Minutes later, he collapsed on top of her and rolled over, reversing their positions. Their legs tangled together. The scent of their passion filled the air. Cynthia shifted on top of him, trying to get comfortable, and emitted a dainty snore. A smile curved his lips at the satisfaction coursing through him. As he drifted off to sleep, he realized he’d just experienced a tiny bit of Cynthia’s sensuality. Once he taught her about the power of control, how to give and how to take, Chris was sure the woman would be unstoppable.

Cynthia awoke in small degrees. She opened her eyes and noticed two things. The dark shadows told her it still wasn’t morning. Secondly, the white wallpaper with huge roses signaled she wasn’t in her room or Anna’s. Still groggy, it took several seconds for her mind to focus. When it did, the memories of the evening came rushing back. The drinking, the kissing, the…

Oh God, she’d practically ordered Chris Dupree into bed. She’d acted like some militant nympho.

That’s a derogatory term, Cyn.

She immediately heard Anna’s voice in her head. Cynthia knew it was. She understood having a healthy sexual appetite did not make her a slut. The years of her parents’ comments were hard to overcome.

Still, how was she going to face him? Shifting her legs, she encountered bare skin, a tad bit hairier than her own. She froze. Lordy, she was still in bed with him. Of course she was. Where the hell else would she be? It wasn’t like he would get up and leave his own hotel room.

Slowly, trying not to disturb him, she shimmied to the edge of the bed. The moment she reached it, his arm snaked around her waist, pulling her back against him. Excitement mingled with embarrassment at the feel of his hard cock against her rear end.

“Not trying to sneak away, are you?”

His voice was rough with sleep, his accent thick, and dammit, she melted at the sound. He chuckled before she could form an answer. “Of course you were. Scared the hell out of yourself, didn’t you?”

He kissed the back of her neck, and she shivered.

“I—I don’t normally do things like this.”

He rubbed his shaft against her and chuckled again.

Exasperated, she sighed. “Chris, this is a one-time—”

“Now, don’t make me prove I’m worth more than one time. I’d think the first time would have done that.”

Even as she tried to resist, his arrogance made her smile. From the feel of his erection, he definitely had a reason for it. He began kissing and licking her earlobe, making it difficult to form an argument.

“You live in Hawaii. I live in Georgia. And although I love Hawaii, it would make it one hell of a commute with me living here.”

“You’ve been to Hawaii? Which island?”

“Oahu. My grandmother owned a house close to the North Shore.”

“Ahh.” And he went back to kissing her. His hand slid to her hip, and he pulled her tighter against him. “What else?”

Her whole body seemed to be an instrument made for him to play. He touched her, and she wanted to perform Beethoven’s Fifth. “What?”

“What other argument do you have for us not…enjoying each other again?”

“Ahh…oh. Yes.” She sounded all breathless, her body warming as his fingers danced down her abdomen and covered her sex. “We’re very different. I mean, I’m sure you are used to being so in tune…” She swallowed as he slipped one finger between her folds. “But I have had problems getting satisfaction.”

He moved his finger, brushing against her clit. If she weren’t already so excited, she would be embarrassed by the gush of liquid probably wetting his hand.

“But you had no problem with me.” Again, his pride made her smile. He removed his hand from her pussy. She heard the sound of foil ripping and knew he was donning another condom. A moment later, something bigger than his fingers prodded at her entrance. Without thought, she lifted her leg, and he pushed into her.

“Ah, chéri , you fit me like a glove.” His accent thickened, the sound of it brushing along her nerve endings.

As he pulled out and then thrust back into her, he murmured incoherently in her ear. The tension built, her desire spiraling through her. She pressed back against him, needing more of him, all of him. Her head clouded, her senses filled with him—his scent, the feel of his skin against hers, the sound of his voice teasing her. She tried her best to increase the momentum, but he kept it slow and easy. All the while, he kept talking, telling her just what he wanted to do to her. Part of it was in French, part in English. The pictures he painted with his words pushed her closer to the edge.

She felt herself teetering, but not near enough. She crept closer to fulfillment, but he paused. Reaching around her, he grabbed an extra pillow, laid it on the bed, and rolled both of them on top of it. Positioning her just right, his hands on her hips, he drew himself up to his knees and began driving into her again, pushing deeper than he had been before. She pulled herself up to her elbows and knees, making it easier for him.

Chris kept one hand on her hip, the other sliding around to tease her clit as he continued to thrust heavily into her.

“Ah, chéri , that’s it. Baby, come for me. Come apart for me.”

He pressed her clit, moving his fingers in a circular motion. The tension that had been building from the minute his hands had touched her coiled in her stomach, then radiated to her sex. One more plunge into her core, and she came, her body splintering into a thousand shimmering pieces. He sustained his rhythm as she convulsed. She started to relax, the last of her orgasm diminishing, as Chris dove harder, deeper, his fingers still on her clit. Without allowing her to recuperate from her first one, he pushed her over into another mind-shattering orgasm. This time, he joined her, shouting her name as his body covered hers.

Time passed as the only sound filling the hotel room was their breathing. He rolled to his side, pulling out of her. She felt the mattress rise as he left. Turning to her side, she watched as he discarded the condom. He returned to bed wearing nothing but a sleepy, satisfied smile. Sliding in beside her, he drew her close, one hand skimming down her back to her rear end. She placed her head on his chest beneath his chin. He grunted in satisfaction and rubbed her rear.

“Now, chéri , no more talk of just one time.”

She could hear the teasing in his voice, but she didn’t smile. She was trying hard not to cry. Blinking away the tears, she reminded herself that this was about tonight, about enjoying the moment. That was all she’d have.

Yearning filled her as she imagined waking up with him, laughing with him, loving… Oh no. She would not fall for that. She didn’t know the man, so she wasn’t in love. She was in lust, and that fizzled out. Just because she’d had good—no, great —sex, didn’t mean she was in love. There was a connection—that, she could admit to herself—but it was based on sex. Her life was a mess, and she didn’t need more complications. It didn’t stop her from wanting it, craving it, though.

Thinking of one of Anna’s favorite sayings, Cynthia now understood exactly what Anna meant when she said it.

This sucked, and not in a good way.