brought his thumbs to her nipples. She moaned and pressed against him as he stroked the stiff peaks then kissed him so hard his lips flattened against his teeth. He had time for a dazed thought—did I ever think this woman was a cool one?—before she was tugging at his shirt so hard, he could hear the buttons popping off and clattering on the bathroom tile.
“That’s right, you’re strong, rip our clothes off, rip all of our clothes off,” he mumbled in delirious joy,
“take me, I’m yours,” and her soft laughter brought a silly, pleased grin to his face.
She started to lean forward to kiss his now-bared chest, but he stopped her long enough to pull her shirt over her head. Her bra straps were sliding off both shoulders but he couldn’t take the time to help her out of it; he was transfixed by the perfection of her upper body. Slim, yet sleekly muscled, with proud, high breasts, her nipples were the dark pink of prairie roses and he would have gladly traded his medical license for a taste. Praise all the gods who ever were, he didn’t have to. He kissed one, then licked, then sucked, pressing the nipple to the roof of his mouth and tightening his grip at her sigh.
His arms were around her waist then slid lower to cup her firm buttocks and pull her gently against his groin. She pushed back and he loosened his grip at once, but to his delight, she wasn’t pulling away, just trying to get more room…it was then that he noticed his nimble-fingered Kara had gotten his fly unbuttoned and his zipper down without him noticing.
And then her fingers were curving around his shaft, gripping him with cool and delicious friction and he had time for one distracting thought—God, don’t let this be another fantasy—before gladly giving in to the sensation. Kara’s fingers, which slipped past locks and dealt blows hard enough to fell grown men, were the sweetest of dreams as she caressed, stroked, squeezed.
“OhKaraGod,” he gasped, then brought her breasts together and ran his tongue along her cleavage as her breathing grew harsh and her fingers ran across his now-slippery tip. He groaned and managed to stop himself from squeezing the pale globes until he marked her with his fingers. He wanted to mark her.
He wanted to kiss and suck every inch of her body, leave a ring of hickeys around her throat like a necklace, wanted to write his name on her forehead with a laundry marker, wanted to marry her so she would be his forever and he hers. Instead, he stopped himself from squeezing and attacked the button fly of her jeans. Being a fumble-fingered physician, his technique wasn’t nearly as stealthy as hers. She didn’t, thank God, seem to mind.
“More.”
“Yes.”
“I want—”
“That’s so good—”
“Yes, you—”
“You—”
“Oh yes—”
He didn’t know who was saying what, didn’t care, it didn’t matter. The only things in the world were her breath, her skin, her face, her sweet, courageous self.
“I’ve got to—got to send him a thank you note,” he managed, then kissed her again.
“Who?” She said the word into his mouth, then lightly bit his lower lip and squeezed his throbbing dick with perfectly even pressure from each finger, stopping just short of pain, making him want to beg her to do that again. “Who?”
Who indeed? What the hell had he been talking about? Oh, yeah… “Carlotti. One Eyebrow. The wonderful thug who brought you into my life. I’ll send him flowers. Wash his car for a year. Something.”
He felt the change in her at once. One instant she was warm and willing and had her hands all over him.
The next, she was letting go, looking at him with eyes full of fright, then, in the next instant, eyes that showed nothing except cool waiting.
“That’s enough of that,” she said calmly and gently pushed him back.
“Guh,” he said, conscious of the fact that most of the blood his brain used was currently residing in his dick and, as such, he was definitely
“That’s right, you’re strong, rip our clothes off, rip all of our clothes off,” he mumbled in delirious joy,
“take me, I’m yours,” and her soft laughter brought a silly, pleased grin to his face.
She started to lean forward to kiss his now-bared chest, but he stopped her long enough to pull her shirt over her head. Her bra straps were sliding off both shoulders but he couldn’t take the time to help her out of it; he was transfixed by the perfection of her upper body. Slim, yet sleekly muscled, with proud, high breasts, her nipples were the dark pink of prairie roses and he would have gladly traded his medical license for a taste. Praise all the gods who ever were, he didn’t have to. He kissed one, then licked, then sucked, pressing the nipple to the roof of his mouth and tightening his grip at her sigh.
His arms were around her waist then slid lower to cup her firm buttocks and pull her gently against his groin. She pushed back and he loosened his grip at once, but to his delight, she wasn’t pulling away, just trying to get more room…it was then that he noticed his nimble-fingered Kara had gotten his fly unbuttoned and his zipper down without him noticing.
And then her fingers were curving around his shaft, gripping him with cool and delicious friction and he had time for one distracting thought—God, don’t let this be another fantasy—before gladly giving in to the sensation. Kara’s fingers, which slipped past locks and dealt blows hard enough to fell grown men, were the sweetest of dreams as she caressed, stroked, squeezed.
“OhKaraGod,” he gasped, then brought her breasts together and ran his tongue along her cleavage as her breathing grew harsh and her fingers ran across his now-slippery tip. He groaned and managed to stop himself from squeezing the pale globes until he marked her with his fingers. He wanted to mark her.
He wanted to kiss and suck every inch of her body, leave a ring of hickeys around her throat like a necklace, wanted to write his name on her forehead with a laundry marker, wanted to marry her so she would be his forever and he hers. Instead, he stopped himself from squeezing and attacked the button fly of her jeans. Being a fumble-fingered physician, his technique wasn’t nearly as stealthy as hers. She didn’t, thank God, seem to mind.
“More.”
“Yes.”
“I want—”
“That’s so good—”
“Yes, you—”
“You—”
“Oh yes—”
He didn’t know who was saying what, didn’t care, it didn’t matter. The only things in the world were her breath, her skin, her face, her sweet, courageous self.
“I’ve got to—got to send him a thank you note,” he managed, then kissed her again.
“Who?” She said the word into his mouth, then lightly bit his lower lip and squeezed his throbbing dick with perfectly even pressure from each finger, stopping just short of pain, making him want to beg her to do that again. “Who?”
Who indeed? What the hell had he been talking about? Oh, yeah… “Carlotti. One Eyebrow. The wonderful thug who brought you into my life. I’ll send him flowers. Wash his car for a year. Something.”
He felt the change in her at once. One instant she was warm and willing and had her hands all over him.
The next, she was letting go, looking at him with eyes full of fright, then, in the next instant, eyes that showed nothing except cool waiting.
“That’s enough of that,” she said calmly and gently pushed him back.
“Guh,” he said, conscious of the fact that most of the blood his brain used was currently residing in his dick and, as such, he was definitely
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