Chapter Twenty-Four
This time, they didn’t even make it to the bedroom. They stumbled backward into Nick’s cottage, shedding clothing as they went. Clara’s blouse was already off and her jeans halfway down when they landed on the lumpy couch. He knelt to tug off her shoes, then grasped the hem of her jeans and pulled, lifting her hips off the couch. The juxtaposition of his boyish eagerness and his elegant appearance made her laugh aloud—and he joined in, clasping her tightly as they rocked back and forth, laughing until tears streamed from their eyes.
He licked away a tear trailing down her cheek. She returned the favor, enjoying the salty taste of his skin, the woodsy scent of his cologne.
Her fingers twined in his soft curls, she pulled him in for another kiss. The strong muscles of his back tensed beneath her hand as he rocked his hips, slowly grinding his cock against her. Shooting stars of pleasure zinged from her clit, electrified her skin. Every inch of her cried out for more.
Her fumbling with his belt was interrupted by a buzz from his pocket, followed by a merry marimba tune.
“Shit. Darcy.” He pulled the offending phone from his pocket, tapped the screen, and then grinned. “She says don’t wait up.”
“Good!” She wrapped her legs around his waist.
He paused his caresses and gazed deep into her eyes, golden glimmers dancing in his expresso-brown irises. His lips parted in a tender smile, and then he lowered his weight onto her, rocked her in a slow rhythm that pushed her deeper into the already-sagging couch.
She laughed. “Do you suppose this is how the couch got its character?”
“Let’s put another dent in it.” His lips found her nipple. His moan buzzed against the tender skin.
She arched her back and gave herself to his kiss, all her nerve endings singing.
“Wait.” He reached for the phone, tapped it until the room filled with the soft strains of Brazilian jazz. “They’re playing our song.”
“The horizontal mambo?” She giggled again, and then her laughter turned to gasps of pleasure as Nick slid down between her parted thighs and pressed his humming lips over her damp panties. She swayed to the beat beneath his caressing mouth and hands, the sweet ache between her legs building until she couldn’t bear to wait another second.
“Please, now,” she gasped. He hooked his fingers through her panties and tugged them off. But instead of rolling his strong body atop hers, he knelt between her thighs. He lifted her legs, draped them over his shoulders, then nibbled the tender flesh at the top of each thigh, teasing her. Eyes half-closed, she rolled her head to the side and sighed, then gasped again when she spied their reflection in the mirror above the dining room cabinet.
Fascinated and furiously aroused, she watched as Nick’s tongue traced torturous circles, round and round, closing in on her pulsing center. He kissed her swollen folds, then parted them with the tip of his tongue, oh so softly, just one taste, achingly sweet. He pulled back.
“God, you are so delicious, like a ripe peach.” He rested his cheek against her thigh, and the scruff on his jaw scraped pleasantly against her sensitive skin. With one fingertip, he traced each swollen lip of her pussy, then slid slowly inside her opening. He kept his finger there, gently undulating as his tongue resumed its exploration of her inner folds.
The pressure building between her legs was agonizing, exquisite, driving away all awareness of the world outside. There was only this place, this moment, this man. And he was determined to know all of her.
At last, his circling tongue found her clit, stroked up one side and down the other, at first with feathery lightness, then more firmly. She groaned and grasped his soft, curly hair.
“Ah, ah, ah. Patience,” he whispered. He pulled back, kissed her inner thighs, and stroked his hands from her hips to her knees. “Relax. I want to explore every delicious inch of you.”
Once again, he nibbled her outer lips, then brought his attention back to her throbbing core. She tried to give him the patience he asked for, but her need was too strong. Just a few more exquisite flicks of his tongue and she cried out, her voice raw, her thighs clamped hard around his shoulders as wave after wave of climax rocked her.
“Yes, yes, give it to me,” he purred between her spasming legs. She squirmed away from his probing tongue, the sensation so strong it stole her breath. But he persisted, clasping her hips firmly as his caresses drove her over the edge and spun her away on an even stronger wave of sensation. Her flesh was floating, flowing, her blood coursing like river rapids. She laughed and cried out and sobbed until, completely spent, she collapsed onto the sofa, happy, helpless, and exhausted.
He nibbled his way up her stomach, pausing to suckle on each breast before kissing her mouth, his lips swollen and slick with her juices.
With great effort, she pushed herself upright and propelled him backward until he stood before her.
“Look to your left,” she murmured against his flat belly.
He chuckled. “You, clever girl. Were you watching us the whole time?”
“Not the whole time, since you made my eyes roll up in my head. Speaking of head…”
Amused by her own earthiness, she slid her hands up his strong thighs, relishing the heat of his skin, the fuzzy softness of the hair beneath her palms, and then she hooked her fingertips through the waistband of his shorts and slid them down. His swollen shaft bobbed free and bopped her on the nose. She wrapped her hands around the hot, silky length of him and pulled him closer.
Nick’s breath came out in a hiss as she touched her lips to the velvety plum head of his cock.
“Oh, you like that, do you?”
“Yes, ma’am. Very much. More, please.” He slid his fingers through her hair but let her control the pace. She feathered kisses over the hot, pulsing length of him, her fingers firm around the base of his shaft, then took him in as deeply as she could, stroking her way back to the tip with her lips and tongue. His flesh bounded and throbbed beneath her touch.
“So good,” he moaned, his words blurring into a guttural growl. She stroked his shaft with one hand and, with the other, reached beneath to cup his balls, which snugged tightly against his body at her touch.
His breath caught. “Do that again.”
She pulled back to gaze up at him, only to find him watching the mirror, hypnotized. The sight ignited a glow deep inside her core, and she set to work giving him a good show. On and on she teased him, alternating long strokes of her tongue with whispery nibbles, then swooping low to tongue his balls.
“God, yes, more.” His hips began to buck, his head fell back, his eyes closed. His rhythm increased, and she gripped his thigh to control the tempo.
“Oh God, I want to come inside you.” He tried to pull back, but she held him firmly.
“Next time.” She sped up her rhythm, stroking his shaft with both hands. Her tongue flicked the luscious, plummy head of his cock until he cried out, calling her name over and over. She slid him deep into her mouth, relishing the heat of his pulsing, leaping flesh, the salty taste of him as he erupted in spurt after spurt, his juices sliding down her chin.
Gulping air, he collapsed forward and clutched the back of the sofa for support. She released him, and he dropped down beside her, his warm, heavy body relaxed and yielding—until she tried to caress his still-pulsing shaft.
“No, please. Too much.” He grasped her hand and laughed, his head thrown back. “Oh, what a mess. Let me…”
He pulled his pants from the floor, tugged a linen handkerchief from the pocket, and tenderly wiped her chin. “Thank you, my angel.”
And then he stretched out on the sofa, pulled her close against him, and lazily stroked her back. Her head fit perfectly in the hollow between his shoulder and chest. The strong, steady rhythm of his heart, the weight of his arm around her, safe and warm, lulled her toward sleep. There was no need to move, no need to worry. They were together now, and together they’d figure out the rest.