Lance stretched out his long legs as much as possible in her tuna can of a car and glanced in his side mirror. He’d let Arianna drive home from dinner, and he was doing his best not to wince at each car she cut off.
The gray Ford sedan a few cars back caught his attention. He’d seen one like it illegally parked out front of the restaurant. Could be coincidence, but he was trained to look for anomalies and patterns, and he was darn good at his job. The gray car was following them. He’d bet on it.
If he’d been doing his job instead of remembering Ari’s tight ass in her yoga pose, he would’ve noticed if the car had followed them from her art gallery or if it had picked them up at the restaurant.
“Get into the right lane,” he said. “Slowly.”
Arianna turned to him with a questioning expression on her face. “Do it,” he said.
She frowned but signaled and moved to the right. The gray car followed. “Stay in this lane. Keep to the speed limit.” He grinned at her disgruntled look.
“Are we being followed or something?”
“I think so. Don’t panic,” he said as her fingers tightened on the wheel and her speed slowed down.
“Should I drive to the police station?” Her voice was quiet but steady.
“Not yet. Let’s lead them on a bit of a chase, but not to your house.” He reached behind him to pull out his gun.
“Can’t you call your police buddies and have them trace the license plate? If I slow down more, you can read the tags.”
He considered her excellent idea for a minute. If he were guarding her in an official capacity he could. “I can’t. It would be illegal for me to trace tags for personal use.”
The car jerked forward as she stomped on the gas pedal. “Personal use? I bet I could find that information on Google in about one second.”
“Probably true,” he admitted. “But I still can’t use official government resources for this purpose.”
“Official government resources, hah. Do you mean those spy satellites that could show a geek in a dark office what color underwear I’m wearing right now?”
What color underwear was she wearing right now? Was it a thong? Or maybe those sexy boy-shorts. Lance allowed himself a pleasurable distracting moment to contemplate that, then refocused. “I don’t know what spy satellites you’re talking about, or should I say, ‘I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you’?”
“Get in line,” she said.
He patted her shoulder, then turned to give the car following another look. “Ari, I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. I promise.”
She took her hand off the wheel to give his a squeeze. “Thanks, Lance. I’m lucky you had time off work to stay with me.”
He couldn’t think of a response to her comment. He still itched to get back to work, but if he hadn’t been injured he wouldn’t be here now with her.
“Ari?” He’d heard Valerie call her that diminutive, and he liked it. It suited her.
“Huh?” She turned back to the road.
“Turn onto the next residential street and find a safe place to park. Someplace I can get out of the car.”
She raised her eyebrows and shook her head but followed orders. Within a minute she slid into a spot on a tree-lined street, and the gray car pulled in behind them. Lance debated a moment, then decided to let them make the first move. He was ninety-nine percent certain the car following them was a government car, not a potential security threat.
He didn’t have long to wait. Two men, overdressed in suits on the warm evening, sauntered over to the car and tapped on Arianna’s window. She threw a bewildered and frightened glance at Lance, and he smiled to reassure her. “Open the window.” Then he reached deep into his pocket to pull out his Secret Service identification. One never knew if flashing badges could smooth things over.
“Ms. Rose.” One man greeted her, flipping open an FBI badge. “Is there a reason you pulled over?”
“Um.” She pointed to Lance. “He told me to. Why are you following me?”
The federal agent ignored Arianna’s question and leaned down to peer in the window at Lance. “Sir. Step out of the car, please. Keep your hands in sight.”
Lance sighed. He’d never been on this end of an investigation before. Slowly, he opened the door and stepped out of the car. Immediately, both suited men’s eyes widened when they recognized him.
“Gentlemen,” he said.
“You’re Agent Lance Brown, correct?”
“Yes.” He glanced into the window at Ari to give her a reassuring look.
“It’s an honor to meet you, Brown,” said one agent. “We’d been working on identifying the man staying with Ms. Rose. This makes our job easier.”
“How’s your leg doing?” asked the other. “What are you doing with Stanley Rose’s daughter?”
A sinking feeling entered Lance. His hero status for saving the president was in jeopardy if he got caught up in a scandal embroiling Arianna or the Rose family. Up until now, all the media had focused on Stanley Rose. Other than last night, he hadn’t seen much of Stanley Rose’s daughter in the press.
“Why are you following us?”
“Ms. Rose is a person of interest in her father’s absence, but we are not at liberty to say more until we understand your relationship with her.”
“I’m a friend.”
“Just a friend?” One agent raised a brow. “You spent the night last night. You saying nothing happened between you and a pretty thing like her?”
Annoyance flared. “She isn’t a thing, and we’re friends.” He hoped they hadn’t seen inside Ari’s office this afternoon. It would be hard to explain away the smoking-hot kiss from earlier if they were truly only friends.
“Well, tell your friend we will be keeping her company for a bit to see if she gives us any hint as to her father’s whereabouts.”
“She doesn’t know,” he said, praying Arianna had told him the truth. He’d be up shit creek if he were caught lying to the FBI, unknowing or not. “I don’t think she and her dad are close.”
“How long have the two of you been friends?” the other agent asked.
“We met through mutual friends. Her best friend is married to my close buddy.” He hoped they didn’t see through the prevarication. No need for them to know they’d only met last night.
The taller agent pulled out a small notepad from his suit pocket. “Oh, yes. A Mrs. Valerie Moore, married to Jason Moore of McLean.”
He wondered if Jason knew he was now on an FBI list. In a case with the scope of Stanley Rose’s, they would leave no stone unturned. “Well, if you’re following her, then you know about the break-in. I’m staying close to her to protect her.”
The two agents glanced at each other, obviously confused. “Break-in?”
“Is it related to the case?” the other agent asked.
Lance nodded. “A brick was thrown through the front window of her art gallery and a painting was defaced with a personal threat to her.”
“That explains the boarded-up window. We thought she was protecting her privacy, but we didn’t restart the surveillance on her until today.”
“Well, I guess I can go back home, then. If you’re watching her, she won’t need my protection.” Lance ignored the increased pressure in his chest at the thought of leaving Ari when they had just met.
The agents looked at each other again, having a silent conversation, before they turned back to him. “Actually, if you could stay with her, it could be helpful.”
“How do you mean?” he asked.
“She obviously trusts you. Butter her up, and maybe she’ll share something about her father’s whereabouts.”
He eyed the two of them for a long minute. “I told you, she knows nothing about her father. Besides, you know I’m on medical leave, right? I can’t go start playing ball for another team.”
“You wouldn’t be. Haven’t you been reading the memos? It’s all about interdepartmental cooperation these days. We’ll have our supervisory special agent get in touch with your boss to give you the go-ahead.”
Lance was reasonably sure his boss would do no such thing. He shrugged. “I’m not officially agreeing to anything until I speak to my superiors, but for now I’ll stick with Arianna.” Inwardly, he rejoiced, and his lower abdominal muscles clenched at thought of officially sanctioned time with her. “See you.”
He got back in the car and turned to Ari. “You’re not going to be happy.”
“Oh?” She raised her eyebrows. “Why is the FBI following me?”
“They think you know where your dad is and may give them a clue.” He reached out his hand but pulled back when she turned away and rested her forehead against the steering wheel. He let her sit like that for a few minutes. He didn’t mention his new role in the situation.
Despite what she’d told him last night, and what he’d told the FBI, he had no real reason to believe her and lots of reasons to doubt her. She could be lying through her teeth about her father. For all he knew, Stanley Rose could be hiding in the Rose Gallery basement with Ari sneaking food to him.
“I don’t have a clue where my dad is. You believe me, right?” She lifted her head and turned to face him, her eyes shiny with unshed tears.
“I do,” he said, and squashed any guilt he had at the semi-lie. He’d worked on the side of federal justice for eight years; he’d known Arianna eight minutes.
“Do you mind driving?” she asked. “I don’t feel up to concentrating.”
“Sure.” They quickly hopped out of the car to switch seats and he sped quickly back to her gallery.
“Phone’s ringing,” Lance said as they walked in the gallery and up the stairs to her bedroom.
“I’m letting it go to voice mail. There’s no one I want to talk to tonight.” The ringing abruptly stopped without the caller leaving a message.
“No, there’s one person we’re going to call, and that’s Sam.”
“Sam who?” And then she remembered. “Sam Cooper?” she asked, referring to her high school friend who was currently an FBI special agent. “How do you know him?”
“Through Valerie.” He already had his cell in hand and was dialing a number. Numbly, she listened to Lance’s side of the conversation, but she could guess he was getting the same message Sam had given her ten months ago. He worked in the cyber-security division, and as an old friend of Arianna’s, he was playing CYA—cover your ass—and keeping his fingers, toes, and nose clean.
“He’s got nothing,” Lance said, hanging up the phone.
“I know.” She heard the weariness in her voice and hated it, but didn’t know how to change it. After nearly a year of doing her best to ignore her father’s life in the spotlight, it had caught up to her big-time. Not even the enticement of Lance sleeping in her bed added shine back to her outlook. Her phone started ringing again, but she ignored it to head to bed.
She trudged to her open closet, her steps heavy, but sprinted when a deep, familiar male voice sounded on the answering machine. She raced to the phone and snatched up the receiver. “Daddy?” She was aware that Lance stood up straighter, staring at her intently.
“Arianna?”
“Oh,” she said over the lump in her throat.
“Arianna, it’s Eric Wright. I’ve been trying to reach you all evening.”
She struggled to bring her tone back up to its normal, chipper cadence. “Hi, Eric. I’m here now. How can I help you?” Lance relaxed back on the couch and rooted around for the remote control.
“I saw the news of the gallery yesterday.”
“Oh.” She hurried to reassure him. “Nothing of yours was broken. The front window shattered and one painting was damaged. Your artwork is safe.”
“For today. What about tomorrow or the next day?”
“Eric, now that I am aware of the threat, I have twenty-four-hour security, and the police are on it. The gallery is protected.” She decided not to mention the spanking-new FBI bonus security. That was more of a need-to-know basis, and she judged Eric didn’t need to know.
“I’m afraid that’s not enough for me. It’s not simply the physical security aspect. I don’t want my name connected with any hint of a financial scandal.”
Was Lance listening to her end of the conversation? Her steady bodyguard was channel surfing on low volume, giving no indication he was listening to the call.
“Oh, come on, Eric. You know any press is good press.” She tried to cajole and tease before one of her top artists took the conversation in the direction she suspected he was going.
“Not in this case,” he said, disapproval radiating through the phone line. “How are you going to convince patrons to drop a load of money on a painting when some of the money may go to the defense of Stanley Rose?”
She gripped the phone like her hands were made of titanium, wishing she could slam it down to end this horrible conversation with Eric, but she had to remain calm and professional. Even if her stomach threatened to churn up tonight’s Thai dinner.
“I guess I couldn’t convince you of that,” she said. “I’ll take down your paintings tomorrow and have them ready for pickup at your convenience.”
“Arianna.” Now his voice softened. “I’m sorry. It’s nothing against you, I…got calls last night from people who’d seen the news. They wanted to know if that was where my upcoming show was. I hated telling them yes.”
“Well, now you won’t have to.” She was ready to end this conversation and go to bed. Tomorrow would have to be a better day. Only the memory of Lance’s kiss brightened what had been a fairly terrible day. She remembered that tomorrow was Monday and the new security company was due to start. Lance would be leaving to go back to his own life. Her stomach sank and she forced her attention back to her traitorous former client.
“Maybe we can work together in the future, after all this scandal has died down.” Eric’s conciliatory words didn’t fool her. She’d never hear from him again. And good riddance.
“Perhaps. Thank you for letting me know. Good night.” There was a click on his end, but she sat with the receiver off the hook for a long second, gathering up her reserves one deep breath after another.
“Are you okay?” Lance asked from the sofa.
“Not really.”
“What happened? Who was on the phone?”
“One of my artists. Or should I say, former artist.”
“He pulled out of the show?”
She nodded. “I’m heading to bed now.” Her plans of flirting with and sleeping with Lance were currently off. It was hard to feel sexy with all the crappy vibes floating in the air around her. “Do you mind if I use the bathroom first?”
“It’s all yours.”
A while later, showered and clad in her non-sexy comfort pajamas, she curled on her side inhaling the earthy scent rolling off Lance. She moved her head to find a dry spot in her pillow that hadn’t been soaked by her silent tears. Lance suddenly rolled to face her, startling her and leaving no room to hide her anguish.
Through the shadowy room dimly lit by the moon, he saw her tears and held his arms open to her. “Ari, come here.”
She scooted into his arms without thinking of the consequences. His welcoming warmth enveloped and soothed her. They lay snuggled together for a while with his big hand rubbing large circles over her back. Her cotton tank top rucked up from the movements and soon he was rubbing her bare skin.
She wasn’t sure when the hug changed from soothing to something more. One minute she was burrowed up against Lance’s strong chest and the next his thigh had slipped between her legs while her arms wrapped around his shoulders, placing them chest to chest.
His hand under her shirt made bigger circles, inching closer and closer toward her rib cage. Her nipples hardened at his proximity, and she could feel his hardness against her hip.
“Lance?”
“Hmm?” His voice sounded gruff, sexy, and she shivered in response.
“Will you hold me a bit longer?”
He didn’t answer, but instead pulled her tighter against him and moved his hand lower to cup her ass. Instinctively she shimmied her hips against his pelvis seeking his response.
“Ari, if you keep doing that, I’m going to do more than hold you.”
“Okay.” This was probably a terrible decision made from her vulnerability, but at this moment Lance was the most solid and tempting thing in her world.
“Are you sure?”
She pushed up to lie on top of him and looked directly into his face. “I’m sure. I need something good in my life right now. I decided this afternoon to sleep with you.”
“Before or after I kissed you?”
“After. I thought you didn’t like me before.” She smiled and kissed his chin; in the comforting and alluring arms of Lance Brown, the fears and tensions of the day melted away. It felt as if she was opening up a new momentous chapter in her life, and at the same time, as if she and Lance had known each other forever. With all her other men, she only showed them her fun, flirty side. Within a day of knowing her, Lance was seeing her, warts, tears, and all. And he still seemed to like her.
“I don’t like you, you little spoiled brat.” He softened his teasing words with a sharp pinch to a butt cheek.
“Ouch.” She laughed and rolled off onto her back, but he followed, pressing her into the mattress with his hips.
“You’re brave,” he said.
“Me, brave? How do you figure?” She arched up, seeking more contact, but he resisted.
“Your father is one of the most hated men in America, the FBI is following you, and some crazy person wants you dead. But you, you’re ignoring it all and throwing a major art show.” Finally, he lowered his face to nip her chin, then her earlobe.
She turned to give him better access. “Why do you see that as bravery? Maybe it’s me being terrified and ignoring it like an ostrich buries its head in the sand.”
“Is it?”
She thought about it for a second. “I honestly don’t know. I do what feels right in the moment.” Previously, all her right feelings had to do with her physical state, yet with Lance, everything felt right, even unadulterated honesty. She’d seen how loving and caring he’d been for his nana today. She wanted some of that care for herself. The love word flitted into her mind and she threw it out. Too soon. Waaaaay too soon. Not that she’d recognize romantic love if it bit her in the ass.
He lowered his lips to nibble on her collarbone and his hands were doing something marvelous to the sides of her breasts. “What about this moment? Does this feel right?”
Oh, God. It did. It really did. She couldn’t find the right words to urge him on, and she used her body instead, seeking more intimate contact. “Shirt: off,” she managed.
Lance sat back on his knees to yank off his t-shirt. Ari stared with appreciation at his wide, strong shoulders that tapered into a chiseled stomach. A line of light brown hairs wound their way from his chest lower into his boxers. She traced it with her finger, smiling when the stomach muscles clenched under her touch.
“You’re going to be wild in bed, aren’t you?” He smiled down at her.
She tore her gaze from his boxers to grin back at him. “You better believe it.”
“Oh, I do. The first time I saw you on TV, I thought, ‘Poor bastard who gets to wrangle her in bed.’”
She sat up and did her best to live up to his vision of a wild-child sexpot as she shimmied out of her skimpy tank top. Her efforts were rewarded by the gleam in Lance’s eyes and the distinct bulge in his boxers. “Lucky bastard, more like.” Now they were entering more familiar territory in which she’d wow him in bed, not cry all over his chest.
“Damn straight,” he said before gently tackling her back to the bed and taking one nipple in his mouth. She should’ve known Lance would be excellent in bed and would take her pleasure as seriously as he took everything else in his life. Some men reverted back to the nursery in their treatment of a woman’s breasts. Not Lance. He skillfully nibbled and caressed, heightening her arousal.
She wrapped her legs around his hips, loving the feel of his hardness stroking through her pajama bottoms. She had no panties on, but the two layers of cotton that separated them were entirely too much. Ari wanted bare skin, now. She slipped her hands into the waistband of his boxers to cup his ass, then yanked the boxers down to his knees.
Though she’d felt what lay beneath his clothes, she wanted to get a nice long look. “Hop up,” she said between kisses.
“Hmm?” He moved to her other nipple then up to her lips, ignoring her request. “I’m busy.”
She pushed at his shoulder. “Lance. Get up.”
He froze and balanced on his elbows over her. “Why? Are you all right?”
His concern that he’d hurt her warmed her heart. “Everything’s great. I want to get a good look at you.” She raised an eyebrow, hoping he was up to the challenge.
With a devastating grin, Lance sat back, then swung his legs off the bed to stand up proudly. Ari followed him to the edge to sit with her legs dangling off the bed.
“Nice,” she said, offering him a weak compliment that nowhere near described the perfection that was his body. His narrow hips framed his erect cock, which stood at attention begging to be touched. His thigh muscles stood out in relief. Only the scar on his leg marred his masculine beauty. For a moment, she worried not only for his physical well-being but his emotional also. How terrifying to have been shot. Did he still think about it?
“Oh, Lance. I’m sorry, I totally forgot.”
“What?” He looked almost panicked, as if she’d forgotten a dentist appointment or something and was about to rush out.
She hurried to reassure him. “Your leg. Did it hurt when you put your weight on it?”
He shook his head. “No, everything in that bed felt great.”
She eyed the angry red scar again. “Well, to be sure, perhaps you should lie on your back. I wouldn’t want my bodyguard unable to protect me.” She smiled, feeling like the devil with her naughty thoughts of Lance spread out on her bed as a delectable feast.
He leaned down to kiss her before complying. Flat on his back, he looked as good as he did standing up. Later, she’d make him kneel, then sit, for comparison’s sake, in the name of artistic research, of course.
Ari pulled off her gray cotton drawstring bottoms, leaving them in a crumpled heap on the floor. Nude, she straddled his thighs, taking care not to put pressure on his injured leg.
“So what’s the plan?” he asked.
She eyed him, not sure where to touch first. Part of her wanted to be selfish and slide a finger between her own damp lips, but she refrained. Even though Lance had been joking when he’d called her a spoiled brat, part of her knew it was the truth. Taking her own pleasure and ignoring Lance’s seemed like something a spoiled brat would do. She decided to make this all about him, her serious, sexy, tempting bodyguard.
“Have some patience. What’s with you and the plans? I’m more spur-of-the-moment in bed. Think you can keep up?” she asked.
His abs flexed, causing his erect penis to shift, which took her out of teasing mode and straight into action.
“Can you?” he challenged back.
In response, she leaned down to swallow him whole, but because his size didn’t allow her to take him all, she fisted the base of his cock and slid her tongue around the tip. Around and around she swirled her tongue, tasting the salty pre-come that dripped onto her lips. He grew impossibly hard under her ministrations and his hips subtly thrust into her mouth.
“Ari, stop.” His voice sounded as if he’d run a mile in a sandy desert, but he didn’t put up much of a fight, and really, what guy did when a girl had his dick in her mouth?
“I want to make you come, too,” he muttered, and then in a louder voice, “Jesus, right there.”
She kept going. She wanted to see Mr. In-Control lose it, and he seemed to be on the precipice. It was killing her to be this giving in bed. No previous lover had warranted such attention. Oh, sure, she’d given her fair share of blow jobs, but never had she ignored her own need clawing at her. At least a lover would have a finger or two deep inside while she went down on him.
But for Lance she wanted it to be about him, and she ignored the throbbing pulse at her core. She couldn’t rationalize why at this moment sucking him to completion was as necessary as breathing. She squeezed his shaft tighter and slid her hand up and down, using her saliva to ease the path. He was close, she could feel it, but he was holding back.
“Let it go,” she said around the tip of his cock, and used her other hand to massage the silky skin between his balls and back.
With a shout, his body tightened as hot come shot into her mouth. He groaned and lay boneless for a few minutes, then rose onto his elbows. “Why, Ari?”
“I wanted to see you lose control.” She smiled. It had been worth it to see him finally let go at the end. Almost nothing remained of the calm, in-control Secret Service agent. His hair stuck out in a haphazard mess on the pillow, sweat gleamed on his skin, and semen leaked a trail onto his thigh from his softening penis. He looked more like her love slave than her bodyguard.
“Well, you won. I lost control, but now I can’t make love to you for a while,” he said.
She shivered when he said “make love.” She knew it was an expression, but wouldn’t it be glorious to have a man like Lance make love to her and mean it with his heart? But it couldn’t happen. He was a federal agent, and she was a free agent and the daughter of a notorious missing criminal.
To hide her sudden sadness, she cupped her breasts and smiled wickedly down at him. “I still expect my pleasure.”
“What do you have in mind?” His tongue flicked across his lips, making it clear what he wanted, and she did, too.
“I think your tongue can do a lot more than talk,” she said, still toying with her nipples, wishing he would take over.
“I’d love to, but you were right about my leg. I don’t see how I can possibly kneel before you without hurting it more.” The glint in his eye told her he was teasing, but before she could tease back, he’d lifted her by her hips to straddle his face. Her hands shot out to grab the headboard before she did something totally lame like smack her face on the wall.
Lance’s tongue swept through her labia and circled her clit. Her leg muscles quivered and she clung to the headboard gasping with delight. Oh, he was seriously talented as she’d known from his kisses, but this was much better. He spent long minutes laving her and thrusting his tongue into her.
It was glorious and she felt like a worshipped goddess wielding power over another, but Lance being Lance, he took control when he grasped her hips and held her in place. She helplessly moved against him, close to orgasm. It was amazing. She was on top, and therefore should have had the power, but he held the control. Her body was a puppet in his strong hands and he pulled her strings until she was pleading and blind to anything but the pleasure he forced on her.
“Please,” she begged. “I’m close.”
The bastard stopped and pushed her down to his waist, where his erection was making an amazing comeback. Lance sat up and Ari promptly wrapped her legs around him. They sat entwined, chest to chest, lips to lips. She mourned the loss of his hot mouth and wriggled her bottom against his hardness, hoping to relieve the pressure.
“I want to be in you,” he said against her mouth. “Do you have condoms?”
Did she? Hell to the yes. She’d never been this aroused, and while she didn’t want to count the notches on her bedpost, she had enough experience to know what was happening in bed between her and Lance was pretty damn special.
She nodded and leaned over to grab one out of the nightstand drawer. She slammed the drawer shut before Lance could get an eyeful of the entire sexual arsenal she had hidden inside: vibrators, flavored condoms, sensual oils, you name it. She was a girl who took her pleasure seriously and liked playing games with her lovers, but sex with Lance was different. Nothing was needed but the two of them naked.
She lay back and sheathed him in the latex, taking extra care to stroke his balls and shaft. He grabbed her wrist. “No more teasing, Ari. Next time I come it will be deep inside you and you’ll be squeezing me damn tight.”
His words totally heated her up. A desperate sound escaped from deep inside. Who would’ve thought the straitlaced agent would have a dirty mouth? “More,” she said. “Tell me more about what you’re going to do to me.”
He grinned and took her mouth in a dizzying kiss that did unbelievable things to her arousal, sending it flying through the roof.
“I’m going to lick those little nipples and if you’re bad, I’m going to bite.”
His head bent to touch a nipple with the tip of his tongue, barely grazing it, torturing her.
“I’ve been bad. I’m a bad girl,” she said quickly, dying for more. She was rewarded by tiny nibbles that pierced the point of pain rocketing her into sublime pleasure.
She threw her head back, arching her back and holding his head to her breast. “More. Tell me more about what you’re going to do to me.”
“My fingers,” he said between bites.
“Your fingers.”
“Ten of them.”
“Ten.”
“I don’t want any of them to feel left out.” He bit, then licked to soothe.
“No, we wouldn’t want that.” Ari caught a glimpse of them in the mirror looking like an erotic painting, all naked intertwined limbs. If she still painted, she’d paint them like this. For her eyes only.
“I’m going to fill every crevice in your body with my fingers.”
“Mmm.” She watched them in the mirror a moment longer.
“Your mouth.” He ran a finger along her lips and brought her full attention back to the bed. Her tongue shot out to touch his fingertip.
“Your pussy.” He lowered a finger to circle her swollen clit. She’d never loved that word before, but when Lance said it, she tightened in anticipation.
“Your tight little ass.” He cupped her buttocks with both hands, allowing fingers to separate the globes.
“Hmm,” she said, wiggling said ass.
“I watched your ass yesterday with your yoga. I’m going touch you there, and you’ll love it.” He didn’t wait for her response, but lowered her back to the bed, planting her feet on either side of his shoulders.
She clenched her muscles, waiting for his touch, and when it came, she moaned in bliss. His fingers danced and wove their magic, bringing her closer and closer to release. Little pants and gasps escaped her as she bit her tongue, trying not to beg. Finally, she lost the battle.
“Lance, please. I want you inside me now.”
“Want or need?” he asked with an evil grin.
“Need. I need you in me,” she begged.
She arched her bottom toward him, and he took his shaft in hand, stroking over the condom before he lowered himself and placed his tip at her passage. He pressed in the barest of inches before pulling back.
Her body followed him, anxious to keep him inside. “More, don’t leave.” She could feel how wet she was, desperate to be filled.
“I won’t.” He pressed back, sitting on his heels, pulling her thighs to drape over his hips, butt high on his lap. She was totally open, totally exposed to him, and mindless to all but the maddening, tightening pressure of his cock slowly inching deeper. In this position she could only lie back and take it. He controlled the pace of his thrusts, and he drove her crazy with his slow pace.
“Stop teasing me. I want more,” she said.
He paused, finally fully sheathed inside her, and circled her clit with a finger. She moaned with need.
“Are you saying you want me to screw you? To pound into this tight, wet pussy?” Sweat dripped from his forehead onto her, and she squeezed around him at his decadent words. Who knew? Seemingly uptight agent Lance Brown had a filthy mouth. She freaking loved it.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” He quickened his speed, thrusting and pulling her thighs toward his belly in counterpoint to the rhythm. The sound of skin on skin and the delicious slide of his entry filled the room.
Lance kneeled over her, power rising from him as he simply took her harder and faster to heights she’d never experienced before. Arianna had never handed the reins to a lover like this and let him fuck her. She loved it, loved the sight of him holding her in place and watching his cock sliding in and out of her. She was lost to everything but the physicality of their bodies sliding in counterpoint. It felt indecent. Fabulous. Decadent.
But soon she couldn’t even watch and closed her eyes to the onslaught of pleasure that threatened to overtake her being. The world around them faded to the crystalline pinnacle of pleasure where their bodies joined. Her orgasm built slowly, then rose faster until she melted around him, helpless to do anything but mercilessly tighten around him as he found completion, too.