Complete Abandon (Page 8)

Complete Abandon (Her Billionaires #5.1)(8)
Author: Julia Kent

Right now he wanted to go all-out Don Draper.

After all, she had transgressed, right? Cockteasing him, interrupting his call, misbehaving and all that.

“You’ve been so bad,” he whispered, running his tongue up the side of her neck, sucking her earlobe with his wet, warm bottom lip, then biting as she groaned. His fingers were slick with her heat and response, and he used his thumb to stroke her swollen nub in soft, unyielding circles. Her grinding against his hand was all he needed to know.

If she pushed her soft, naked body against him much longer, he’d come in his pants.

Time for no pants.

As he removed his hand from her vulva, she cried out with frustration, then leaned forward to kiss him as he deftly unbuttoned and unzipped himself. There wasn’t much time—for a change their dinner plans were at a place with atmosphere, and a dinner bill that would probably equal a day’s pay—a place where tables were by reservation only. No time like the present, then—especially when your girlfriend offered herself up like something out of a Penthouse fantasy letter. If she wanted to shift the power balance by sending him off kilter with her nudity as he struggled to maintain composure on the phone with Laura, two could play at the unequal game.

Before she could react to his releasing her hands, he lifted her easily into his arms, walked to the couch to grab an afghan, then carried her to the door.

“What are you—ALEX, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?” she shrieked as he juggled a flailing, nude girlfriend, a front door knob, and his own sliding trousers. The blanket began to fall off his arm, and one move and the house of cards would come tumbling down.

That was fine.

As long as someone came.

“We’re having sex on the porch!” he said in the same tone one might use to say, “We’re getting a popsicle from the ice cream truck!”

“Are you crazy? I’m naked!” she squealed.

“Should have thought about that,” he answered—squeezing her ass with more force than was needed for a turn on, knowing the added pain would help bring her to the edge—“before you started that dicktease.” Six months of sleeping together had given him considerable experience in getting Josie to express her boundaries. It turned out they were as flexible as she was—in bed.

“Stop it!” she hissed.

He froze.

“If you’re going to do this, you have to be naked, too!”

A deep chuckle rose out of him as he laid her gently on the porch swing he’d helped to install a few months ago. The November chill made her nipples turn to pink peaks in seconds, a fine gooseflesh beginning on her arms and thighs. God, he could stare at her body forever.

Oh, how his erection said otherwise. Now now now now.

Grabbing the afghan, Josie threw it over her naked form and a laugh burbled up. “Seriously? Now we’re air fucking on my fucking porch? You got a thing for having the mailman look at your naked ass?”

What amazed him—what made him love her—was that she wasn’t horrified, or angry, or offended that he’d just assumed she’d be fine with being poured onto a very public piece of furniture and be fucked outside, in broad daylight, where someone might find them.

She’d questioned whether he should be naked, too.

But hadn’t questioned the premise of danger sex one.tiny.bit.

Could he love this woman any more?

“Not my naked ass,” he murmured as he pulled his pants down so that his eager cock was laid bare for her. Sitting carefully, he pulled her into his lap, holding one of his hands to her mouth. She sucked on two fingers, taking her time as her tongue ran down the sides of his index and middle finger, the sensation making his abs tighten. Something had to go rigid—if his erection were any more taut it would slingshot off his body, hit the moon, and land somewhere in the Indian Ocean, tracked by NASA.

A shift of his hips, a nudge of her perfect, round ass and then he felt himself at the edge of her deep warmth, her body leaning into his as she straddled him, the afghan a warm, thick, knitted cover he draped over their bodies. She was on the pill and for the first time in six months of being together he felt a tug as that detail floated through the periphery of his mind, a hint of a life not yet lived. Cars lolled by and dog owners played across the street in the dewy, foggy late afternoon as the touch of sun wisped away into gray.

Sliding in her, he felt the cool air against his neck, her hot breath setting his ear on fire, his hands under the blanket caressing her breasts, each fitting perfectly in one of his palms with room to spare. With one foot braced against the porch floor be began to gently rock the hanging swing, his motion met with a throaty laugh from Josie, who lifted her hips up, then slid down, impaled by him and yet he was the one pinned in place by sheer lust and overwhelm.

And then she tightened.

If kegel muscle control were an Olympic event, Josie would be the US team captain, on the cover of Wheaties boxes every four years. For life. The feeling was brutal and glorious at once, as if he were being milked by a hot, wet cave of Josie’s love.

“I love you,” he murmured in her ear, her pants of concentration and shifting hips his only answer. When she was this close—and they both were, really—she stopped speaking, fingers digging into whatever part of him she touched. Bare breasts pressed against his clothed chest, and his pants pooled around his knees as she writhed, nude, on top of him, the curve of her shoulder under the wool blanket blending with his heated gasp, white clouds of condensation lifting away from them as if moans could take actual, tangible form.

She licked his neck, then suckled, the pull attached to a sinew and muscle trail straight to the base of his cock, like a line she discovered and played with impunity. “Oh, God,” he shuddered, her own orgasm so close he could taste it.

How he wished he could.

Something to save for later.

A shattering clamp was her response, twinning with the suck of her mouth against his jugular, and all the blood flowed to his arms and legs in a great whoosh, receding back and pounding into his core with a rhythm and crescendo that became so insistent it lost definition, growing outside him, blending with the air, the trees, the sky, and with Josie’s trembling form. Only she could bring him to this, in this way—sitting under a blanket, rocking lazily as passersby strolled on, unaware that their world imploded and transformed through a joining borne of connection and shared risk.

And kegels.

Verbal, linear thought eluded him as he became an expanse of skin and nerves, centered at his heart and the base of his shaft, connected by her body. So sweet. Being in her was the ultimate welcome, an invitation to join with a woman so special he couldn’t imagine living without her, a love that would transcend her lifetime, lingering on in children and grandchildren imagined, in an extraordinary choice to embrace something more than either of them could be without each other.