Chapter 90 90
Sherry wrapped her legs around his waist. He filled her deliciously. “It’s all you,” she said, eyes closed with bliss. “I’ll hate myself later for saying this, but damn, you’re good.”
“No cussing, remember?”
He moved his hips, driving deeper. Pinball flashes of pleasure coalesced and ignited at the point where their bodies joined. “Please, please, please,” she whispered, voice hoarse, lungs barely able to function.
“Sherry…” His gruff shout sent her over the edge as he hit his own wall, his release coming in a rapid, forceful finish that left her weak and clinging to him like he was the only steady rock in a swirling current.
As their breathing slowed, she became aware of the fact that Justin was heavy, really heavy. And his shirt buttons were making permanent tattoos on her breasts. “Air,” she muttered. “I need air.”
“Sorry.” With patent reluctance, Justin lifted his body off hers and stumbled to his feet.
Suddenly, her nudity in the face of his fully clothed state made her blush.
“Will you hand me my shirt and pants, please?”
“No.”
Again that single, macho negative. Any moment now, she should protest. Instead, she wrapped her arms across her breasts and curled on her side, hiding things he had already seen. “I need my clothes,” she said, scrupulously polite.
He threw a couple more logs on the fire and turned to face her. “We’re not finished.” He shrugged out of his shirt. “I’m just getting started.”
The sight of his beautiful, masculine chest made her tremble, despite the fact that he had so recently satisfied her. Justin looked different in this light. Like a Viking plunderer…or a wild-eyed barbarian. It occurred to her that she should show at least a modicum of spunk. Instead of letting him run the show.
“What if I object?” Fat chance.
He shrugged, muscles rippling in his arms and torso. “You won’t. I promise. Come here, baby.”
__________
Justin had barely touched his wine, yet his head was spinning. The incredible climax he’d experienced moments ago was already fading into the distance, obscured by an urgent need to take her again.
He was not himself. It wasn’t false modesty to say he was good at satisfying women sexually. He’d received numerous breathless accolades over the years. But holy hell, the nuclear explosion that triggered when he and Sherry connected was incredible. At the moment, she was soft, satiated, approachable. It was rapidly becoming apparent to him that the only time he could truly reach her, without the barrier of acerbity she used as a shield, was during sex. When she forgot that she was mad at him…when she forgot that she held a long-standing grudge for him rejecting her.
Post-orgasmic amnesia. That’s what he should call it. Maybe he had discovered something never before known to science. In another twenty minutes she’d be scowling at him. So the secret was—keep her naked and underneath him. Or on top, or… As he shed his pants, shoes and socks, his sex reared to attention in increments.
Sherry's eyes widened when she took note. He grinned, holding out his hand. “I said, come here.”
She stood up, naked and lovely and so very tempting. He was tired of playing the field. Sherry was smart and beautiful and entertaining both in and out of bed. But she didn’t want children. And sadly, that was a deal-breaker for him. Besides, he needed a wife someday who would look at him with adoration, one who believed in romance. Not a termagant who made him want to hide the kitchen knives.
She reached down and took him in her hand, squeezing gently. “I thought you were an old man. It seems I was wrong.”
His skin tightened in gooseflesh all over his body. He closed his eyes, hands fisted at his hips as she caressed the hot length of him. Her fingers curled carefully around his balls, playing with them, testing their weight.
He tried to speak, swallowed hard and tried again. “I have an idea. Give me a sec.”
She frowned when he escaped her light hold. “I’m getting cold.”
“Not for long.” Grabbing one of the quilts they had used during the night, he folded it carefully and laid it over the arm of the sofa. He snagged her wrist. “That last time was too fast. I want to try slow and easy.”
Her eyes widened. “I don’t do kinky.”
He shrugged, trying to suppress a grin…and failing. “How do you know?”
Her teeth worried her bottom lip. But her raspberry nipples puckered into hard nubs. He brushed them with his thumbs. Sherry shut her eyes, almost as if she couldn’t bear to watch.
“I’ll repeat the question, darlin’, how do you know?”
She swayed toward him, her body lissome and compliant. “I just know.
Why did you give me so much wine?” she complained, her arms curling around his neck. “I can’t think straight.”
“Oh, no, no, no,” he said, disentangling himself and holding her at arm’s length. “I’m not going to let you blame this craziness on alcohol-induced bad judgment. We’re going into this eyes wide open. It’s a choice, Sherry. Tell me you want me.”
She licked her lips. He was damn sure she had no idea how erotically beautiful she looked. Or how confused. It was the uncertainty in her gaze that slowed him down. “Or tell me you don’t want me,” he amended, releasing her abruptly and stepping back. “But I won’t be accused of taking advantage of you. If you really want to stop, we’ll pretend like none of this ever happened.”
She shivered hard, as if a ghost had brushed her shoulder. “I want you,” she said, the words little more than a whisper. “But I know I shouldn’t.”
He flinched inwardly. He didn’t want to be any woman’s guilty pleasure, much less Sherry's. “Well, that’s honest, at least.”
“I hurt your feelings. I didn’t mean to.”
“I suppose you thought I didn’t have any.”
She frowned. “Nothing ever seems to bother you.”
“You’d be surprised.” The ache in his chest was a mixture of arousal and disappointment and a soupçon of Sherry's confusion. God knows, this wasn’t what he’d imagined when he asked her to come here with him for the weekend. Definitely not these feelings.
“Why do you want to have sex with me?”
He rubbed his forehead with the heels of his hands. “Why do women need to have everything analyzed in advance? I just do.” He paused, his turn to frown. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“I don’t know. I’ve seen the women you date. None of them have much in common with me.”