When You Dare
Page 97
A soft groan was her only reply. Dare opened her lips, pressed one finger into her, and encountered silky slickness. He eased back from the grip of her body and added a second finger.
Her back arched as he worked them into her, slid out and pushed in again. With his other hand, he played with her clitoris, softly circling with his thumb, gauging her every shuddering breath, each small contraction. “Dare.”
He looked up at her face, saw her eyes squeezed tight, her lips parted to accommodate her deep, fast breaths. He strained his jeans, she was so damn sexy.
And so real.
With a broken moan, she grabbed his wrist, holding him still with his fingers buried inside her. Water sloshed out of the tub as she curled forward—and came.
Damn, but he’d misjudged his own discipline. His earlier release meant nothing, not with her like this, so wild, so carnal.
Gasping, she oh-so-slowly settled back again, limp, her legs dropped open, her arms lax. Dare eased his fingers from her and felt her flinch with an aftershock of sensation.
Standing, he shucked off his jeans and boxers and, holding her shoulders forward, stepped into the tub behind her. With a sigh, she rested back against his chest.
He knew she was sensitive still, but he couldn’t resist covering each breast with a hand. He kissed her temple and tried to ignore his raging hard-on.
“Dare?”
“Yeah?” He sounded hoarse even to his own ears.
“I’ve never…” She went silent, then struggled to sit up, to turn and face him. She looked at his body, at his erection, and a shameless grin appeared, followed by an embarrassed laugh. “I feel like a… I don’t know. A hussy?”
Dare grinned. “You’re a healthy woman, thank God.”
She shook her head. “You don’t understand. If someone would have told me that I’d do…well, what we just did… I’d have died of embarrassment just thinking about it.”
“Why?” He toyed with a damp tendril of hair that hung to her shoulder. Her dewy skin looked lustrous and smooth, the bruises almost gone. His stomach knotted with the need to taste her all over.
“Because it’s not like me. I mean, I wasn’t a virgin—”
Emphatic, Dare interrupted her to warn, “I don’t want to hear about you with other men.”
That gave her pause. Then she complained, “I wasn’t going to give you details, for crying out loud.”
Damn right, she wasn’t. “How about I cut to the chase here?” He drew her down to him, chest to chest, and kissed her. With his hands on her ass, ready to explore again, he said, “You aren’t used to being so uninhibited.”
“I’m really not.” She jumped when he pressed a finger into her from behind. “Dare.”
Against her lips, he whispered, “Hmm?” She was even slicker now, a little swollen, and he wanted to hear her come again. As he teased in and out of her, he kissed her more deeply, loving the way her belly moved against his boner, how her cushiony br**sts rubbed on his chest. “Scoot up.”
“I don’t know about this.” But she arched her back, driving his fingers deeper.
“Scoot up, Molly. I want to suck on your ni**les.”
She whimpered, and her sex tightened around his fingers—but she finally did as he asked. Bracing her hands on his shoulders, she levered up—and Dare closed his mouth around her, sucking hard.
She let out a deep, vibrating moan, rocking against him, damn near pushing him toward release until she finally cried out, climaxing hard again.
On a sigh, she whispered, “Oh, my God,” and tried to settle down against him.
Laughing, Dare caught her shoulders and sat up with her in the tub. “Baby, don’t go to sleep on me.”
“No, I won’t.” But her eyes were slumberous, her body utterly boneless.
Dare grabbed the soap and washed while looking at her. At half-mast, her lids looked heavy, her lashes long. The heat of the bath and her orgasms had left her skin rosy.
And he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything.
After he rinsed, he used the soap on her. Ignoring her disconcerted exclamations, he bathed every inch of her, lingering between her legs again until he knew he had to stop torturing himself or he’d lose it.
He stepped out of the tub to dry off, then helped her out, too.
Licking her lips, Molly stared down at his aching erection. She reached out a hand, saying, “I had wanted to spend a little more time on you.”
Ah, hell. Feeling a nearly uncontrollable surge of lust, Dare caught her wrist just short of her touching him. “Not this time.” He’d had her, but he hadn’t gotten enough. Not yet.
He was beginning to think a lifetime wouldn’t be time enough, not with this one particular woman.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
MOLLY WATCHED AS Dare drained the tub and used the towel to dry it. She stood there, aching all over, nerve endings alive, and he was indulging his tick for orderliness.
He had such an amazing body that she couldn’t look at him without wanting him. But it was so much more than that. Even with everything that had happened to her, he made her feel more independent, stronger and capable than she’d realized possible.
He also brought out her carnal nature, so easily encouraging her to a lack of modesty, a total indulgence into sexuality. It was amazing.
He was amazing.
If he didn’t come to bed with her, right now, she’d probably attack him. Bare foot tapping the tile floor, she asked, “Does my messiness bother you?”
Her back arched as he worked them into her, slid out and pushed in again. With his other hand, he played with her clitoris, softly circling with his thumb, gauging her every shuddering breath, each small contraction. “Dare.”
He looked up at her face, saw her eyes squeezed tight, her lips parted to accommodate her deep, fast breaths. He strained his jeans, she was so damn sexy.
And so real.
With a broken moan, she grabbed his wrist, holding him still with his fingers buried inside her. Water sloshed out of the tub as she curled forward—and came.
Damn, but he’d misjudged his own discipline. His earlier release meant nothing, not with her like this, so wild, so carnal.
Gasping, she oh-so-slowly settled back again, limp, her legs dropped open, her arms lax. Dare eased his fingers from her and felt her flinch with an aftershock of sensation.
Standing, he shucked off his jeans and boxers and, holding her shoulders forward, stepped into the tub behind her. With a sigh, she rested back against his chest.
He knew she was sensitive still, but he couldn’t resist covering each breast with a hand. He kissed her temple and tried to ignore his raging hard-on.
“Dare?”
“Yeah?” He sounded hoarse even to his own ears.
“I’ve never…” She went silent, then struggled to sit up, to turn and face him. She looked at his body, at his erection, and a shameless grin appeared, followed by an embarrassed laugh. “I feel like a… I don’t know. A hussy?”
Dare grinned. “You’re a healthy woman, thank God.”
She shook her head. “You don’t understand. If someone would have told me that I’d do…well, what we just did… I’d have died of embarrassment just thinking about it.”
“Why?” He toyed with a damp tendril of hair that hung to her shoulder. Her dewy skin looked lustrous and smooth, the bruises almost gone. His stomach knotted with the need to taste her all over.
“Because it’s not like me. I mean, I wasn’t a virgin—”
Emphatic, Dare interrupted her to warn, “I don’t want to hear about you with other men.”
That gave her pause. Then she complained, “I wasn’t going to give you details, for crying out loud.”
Damn right, she wasn’t. “How about I cut to the chase here?” He drew her down to him, chest to chest, and kissed her. With his hands on her ass, ready to explore again, he said, “You aren’t used to being so uninhibited.”
“I’m really not.” She jumped when he pressed a finger into her from behind. “Dare.”
Against her lips, he whispered, “Hmm?” She was even slicker now, a little swollen, and he wanted to hear her come again. As he teased in and out of her, he kissed her more deeply, loving the way her belly moved against his boner, how her cushiony br**sts rubbed on his chest. “Scoot up.”
“I don’t know about this.” But she arched her back, driving his fingers deeper.
“Scoot up, Molly. I want to suck on your ni**les.”
She whimpered, and her sex tightened around his fingers—but she finally did as he asked. Bracing her hands on his shoulders, she levered up—and Dare closed his mouth around her, sucking hard.
She let out a deep, vibrating moan, rocking against him, damn near pushing him toward release until she finally cried out, climaxing hard again.
On a sigh, she whispered, “Oh, my God,” and tried to settle down against him.
Laughing, Dare caught her shoulders and sat up with her in the tub. “Baby, don’t go to sleep on me.”
“No, I won’t.” But her eyes were slumberous, her body utterly boneless.
Dare grabbed the soap and washed while looking at her. At half-mast, her lids looked heavy, her lashes long. The heat of the bath and her orgasms had left her skin rosy.
And he wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything.
After he rinsed, he used the soap on her. Ignoring her disconcerted exclamations, he bathed every inch of her, lingering between her legs again until he knew he had to stop torturing himself or he’d lose it.
He stepped out of the tub to dry off, then helped her out, too.
Licking her lips, Molly stared down at his aching erection. She reached out a hand, saying, “I had wanted to spend a little more time on you.”
Ah, hell. Feeling a nearly uncontrollable surge of lust, Dare caught her wrist just short of her touching him. “Not this time.” He’d had her, but he hadn’t gotten enough. Not yet.
He was beginning to think a lifetime wouldn’t be time enough, not with this one particular woman.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
MOLLY WATCHED AS Dare drained the tub and used the towel to dry it. She stood there, aching all over, nerve endings alive, and he was indulging his tick for orderliness.
He had such an amazing body that she couldn’t look at him without wanting him. But it was so much more than that. Even with everything that had happened to her, he made her feel more independent, stronger and capable than she’d realized possible.
He also brought out her carnal nature, so easily encouraging her to a lack of modesty, a total indulgence into sexuality. It was amazing.
He was amazing.
If he didn’t come to bed with her, right now, she’d probably attack him. Bare foot tapping the tile floor, she asked, “Does my messiness bother you?”
