“Andthis.” He undid the buttons on her shorts and slowly peeled down the zipper. Placing his palm on her belly, he was delighted to feel her stomach muscles quiver at his touch. Her skin was fiery satin. And the small patch of pubic hair that met his thumb when he slid his hand between their bodies and inside her panties was soft as goose down.
“Leo, please, I—OhJesus!” He pressed his thumb between her dewy, swollen lips, finding the nub of her distended clitoris. The motion of her hips humping over his thigh grew more frenzied. Her hand on his cock squeezed. Hard. Until a large drop of pre-ejaculate oozed from his tip. It trickled over his head, coating his shaft and her fingers. Then she began to stroke him.
Up and down. Up and down. Her palm, with its tiny calluses, was deliciously smooth and at the same time wonderfully abrasive. His dick grew to prodigious proportions under her ministrations. And he could so easily let her rub him to completion. It’d been so long since a woman had touched him like this. And Olivia’s touch? It was the sweetest he’d ever known.
Allright, I really am goin’ to come if she doesn’t stop that.And he didn’t want that. He wantedher. All of her. Surrendering herself to him. Abandoning herself to his every want. Every need.
He stepped back, and she growled her displeasure. “I know, darlin’. I know,” he soothed, kissing her lips, her cheek, her ear, her neck. “I just have to—” He didn’t finish, as eager as she was to get back to business as he pushed her shorts and panties down her long, slender legs.Moreeager probably, which is why he almost ripped her underwear when he bent to pull them off and they got hooked on her left heel. He was up like a shot once they were free, whipping her tank top over her head and tossing it over his shoulder. It landed with asplatsomewhere behind him. The clasp on her bra sprang open with a flick of his fingers. And then…
There she was. Olivia Mortier. The woman of his dreams. The woman he loved. And she was…naked.
No,nude. Because when skin was that flawless, breasts that perfect, hips both lean and curvy, naked just didn’t cover it. She was nude in the way great masterpieces were nude. A work of art that was femininity incarnate. Her little oval belly button beckoned. Her tightly furled, upthrust nipples tempted. Her tiny patch of neatly trimmed, ink-black pubic hair charmed.
She was…woman. And when she reached for him, he’d never felt more like a man.
* * *
6:17 p.m.…
WhatamIdoing? What am I doing?
Exactly what she’d promised herself she wouldn’t. She was making love to Leo. No, scratch that. She was havingsexwith Leo. No, scratchthat. She was having sexualrelationswith Leo. And if Bill Clinton taught the world anything, it was that sex and sexual relations were two different things.
She could do this. She could give him pleasure with her hands, with her mouth. It was his turn, after all, and she was nothing if not a fair-minded woman. As long as she stopped things before actual intercourse, before the intimacy of joining her body with his, before they shared pleasure so intense that she lost track of where he began and she ended, she’d be okay. She. Would. Be. Okay.
You’re rationalizing, Mortier.Andshit. Maybe she was. But that was her story and she was sticking to it. Because shewantedto give him pleasure.Imean, justlookathim.All golden and glorious, broad-shouldered and heavy-chested. His stomach was a washboard of muscles bisected by a line of light-brown hair. His thighs were huge and corded, the kind of legs that would keep him standing tall for decades to come. And between his thighs, jutting hungrily, unabashedly, was the most inspiring erection she’d ever seen.
He was long, thicker than her wrist, and heavily veined. His shaft was wider than his head, the perfect male instrument to part a woman’s delicate folds and prepare her to receive the bounty of his girth. In a word: impressive. In two words: Mama want. And in three words?Holyfriggin’ shit!
Liquid heat pulsed from her core, wetting her thighs and making them quiver. Her nipples were so hard they hurt. So sensitive the subtlest shift in the air, the faintest wisp of steam curling around them felt as decadent as a wet tongue. She licked her lips, panting as she reached for his shoulders, careful of the butterfly bandages when she pulled him against her. He groaned—a sound of both surrender and warning, like her touch was the source of all pleasure and pain—when they were hip to hip, breast to chest, flaming hot skin against flaming hot skin.
“God, Olivia.” The shower pounded behind him. A gentle hiss of noise that, instead of diffusing other sounds, only seemed to magnify them. Each breath. Each moan. Each flick of a tongue against skin. “You’re beautiful.”
She smiled. She couldn’t help herself. “I was going to say the same thing about you.” She lifted her face for his kiss, reveling in the molten press of his tongue into her mouth, the eye-crossing pleasure of his hands on her breasts, plumping, callused thumbs circling, circling, until she couldn’t hold back a gasp of pure, aching pleasure.
He smelled fruity and clean, but still amazingly like Leo, all sun-drenched sand and coconut oil. And maybe she was being whimsical. But in Syria, anytime he got near, she was reminded of tropical islands and frosty boat drinks. Maybe it was because he’d spent his whole life rubbing on sunscreen that his skin just naturally smelled like good times and lazy days at the beach. A golden god from a golden land.
Catching her top lip, he flicked his tongue over her teeth. “I love…” He let the sentence dangle for a bit, and her breath hitched, the hair on her scalp lifting. He loved…what? What?“Your crooked front tooth,” he finally finished. And she wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed.Thefirstshe assured herself, concentrating on the delightful feel of his beard stubble rasping against her lips and cheeks. His roughness against her softness. His maleness contrasting with her femaleness.
She shook her head, pulling back to look into his eyes. This close she could see each striation of color meld into the next. The deep brown near his pupils turned into gold. The gold gave way to turquoise, then green, then deep sapphire blue at the very edge of his iris. They were gorgeous, mesmerizing, the most beautiful eyes she’d ever had the pleasure of staring into.
“You love my crooked front tooth? Well, that makes one of us,” she admitted. But she could see by the tick of his jaw, feel by the insistent throb of his cock, that he really believed what he was saying.
“I wanted to run my tongue over it the first time I saw it,” he whispered reverently, his voice a low rumble inside her chest and lower, in her belly. “When the station captain introduced us and you smiled at me.”
“Oh yeah?” The thought enchanted her, charmed her. “Then what took you so long?” She grabbed his ears, pulled his mouth back to hers. She needed to taste him again. Taste him a million times more before she left him for good.
“Hell if I know,” he admitted with a chuckle, kissing her to within an inch of her life. All the while, he kept up that constant assault on the tips of her breasts, plucking and caressing her nipples until she was so hot she thought she might die of heat stroke.
Her womb was a persistent pulse of longing in her center, a deep, yearning void that needed to be filled. And Leo, ever perceptive, gave her what she wanted. He played briefly at her entrance, circling with two fingers, spreading her juices around, teasing her, tempting her,preparingher. And then he sank two fingers deep, making her gasp, making her head fall back against the tile wall. He pumped expertly, knowing just where to touch, just where to rub. When his thumb landed atop the bundle of swollen nerves to press and circle, she knew she better get her hands on him right now or she was going to climb that steep hill to orgasm all by herself. Again.
Yeah. No way in hell. This time webothgo.
Wrapping her fingers around him as far as they would go, she marveled when they didn’t quite touch. Now it was her turn to pump, to stroke. To try to elicit from him another drop of silken passion. He didn’t disappoint. His erection pulsed and jerked in her fist, a hard, hot, living column of greedy flesh. And soon a satiny drop rolled over his head. She rubbed it along his thick shaft, coating him before fisting him again.
“Christ, Olivia,” he growled, gnashing his teeth as he pulled back from the kiss. “You keep that up and you’re goin’ to make me come.”
“Let’s come together,” she coaxed, licking the tiny tip of his flat, brown nipple into her mouth. Andshe’dwanted to dothatsince the first time she saw it, when he’d peeled out of his combat gear after a particularly hot afternoon of training with the Syrian rebels.
