Chapter Eight

Talia felt Reed’s arms wrap tightly around her as she closed her eyes and kissed him. And kissed him, and kissed him, and kissed him.

There was a voice in the back of her head saying Whew, that was fun. Time to stop now!

But there was a louder voice ringing in her ears, and it turned out to be her own. Her lips parted and she moaned out loud as he cupped her ass through her dress. She could feel his hard-on, thick and demanding, pressing through his jeans.

She was supposed to have willpower. Discipline. All her good intentions. Talia Responsible Lassiter, brand new and totally unprepared principal dancer in the New York City Ballet, no man-size distractions exhausting her body, taking up valuable real estate in her brain.

But it was too late. It was too much. It was too damn good to stop.

In the moment, as his tongue searched hers and she, in turn, melted into his touch, none of her so-called good intentions seemed to matter.

She kissed him harder, deeper, letting him know she wanted it. She wanted this. She wanted his hands running over her body. His tongue moving with hers. His cock pressing hard through his jeans.

She wanted the straps of her dress pulled off her shoulders, the yank of her zipper tugged down, the shock of his fingers on her nipples, hard and exposed.

She wanted her dress falling to the floor.

She stepped out of it, still kissing him, her hands running up his chest, his pecs, over his shoulders. She was naked except for her underwear, even though he was fully clothed. But she didn’t care. She liked it that way. She was open, giving herself to him. While he was taking everything she had.

He ran his fingers over her panties. His fingers played with the bridge of fabric across her hips, thumb hooked through the band. She pressed her body closer, grinding against him, feeling his cock notch between her legs.

Yes.

She stroked him through his jeans. The noise he let out was low and choked, like he was trying to hold himself back.

But she’d be damned if she was going to let Reed hold back with her. She was going to make this uptight man lose control if it was the last thing she did.

She unzipped his jeans and pulled his cock free. “Fuck,” he growled as she began stroking. She couldn’t believe how much the sound of that word in his mouth made her knees weak. She couldn’t believe how thick he was, how full. That outline in his sweatpants hadn’t done him justice at all.

His fingers tightened in her hair. She felt him pushing her down, and fuck, yes. She wasn’t supposed to be doing this. She was supposed to spend her Saturday night being good and virtuous and practicing for the ballet. If she did go on a date, it wasn’t supposed to involve sex. Especially not with someone whose apartment she needed to keep living in, no matter what happened between them.

But she got down on her knees, nearly naked in his living room, and kissed the silky tip of his cock. Then she tongued him from his balls straight up the length of the shaft, up and down as he moaned. She brought his whole head into her mouth and he thrust his hips forward, pushing farther in.

He was big. Big enough that she couldn’t deep-throat him. But his moans said she was doing just fine, taking him in and swirling her tongue up, down, and around as she worked her hand around the base of his now-slippery shaft.

“That’s it,” he groaned. She looked up and saw the pleasure tight across his face, the way he was trying—and failing—to hold on. God, she loved the sound of a man coming apart on her tongue.

When he pulled her up, the spark in his eyes was enough to ignite her, his look alone making her wetter than she already was. “Goddammit, you’re dangerous,” he growled, and then pressed his lips to hers.

She tore off his shirt and was tugging at his pants still half on, but he had other ideas. He picked her up, fast and without warning, so that all she could do was hold on and let herself be carried. She did plenty of lifts in the ballet, but this was different. She wasn’t used to being tossed around so easily.

But Reed was strong. His arms didn’t waver.

She felt his cock against her stomach, his hands gripping her ass as he carried her back to the bedroom. He dropped her on the bed, his body covering hers. It was like they both knew that if they were going to cross this line, they had to blow it all the way. There were times for thinking, but then there were times to let go and feel.

He kissed his way down her body, then stood at the foot of the bed. He stepped out of his boxers and jeans, and she perched up on her forearms to admire the view.

She hadn’t seen him yet—seen all of him huge and naked before her. He was cut stone, hard muscle, his cock standing straight up in front of him.

He took it in his palm and started stroking, slowly, fist tight, his eyes locked on hers as hers were locked on him. His tattoos swept up both arms, sleeves of stormy seas, swirling over his shoulders and leaving his strong pecs bare.

With every pump of his hand, his biceps flexed. The storm surged, and his cock jumped full in his fist.

Talia’s mouth was dry. Her thighs ached with need. He was incredible to look at, incredible to be near.

His eyes never once left her as he walked to the nightstand, opened a drawer, and pulled out a condom.

Her breath hitched as she watched him put it on. She was really doing this, lying back, letting this man yank off her underwear and stroke her softly as he climbed on top of her, spreading her legs.

She strained up and his body pushed her down. He kissed her neck, his stubble scraping her skin deliciously, and brought his hands, his mouth, to her nipples. She writhed in his grasp, feeling her desire build until it threatened to break her.

He notched his cock at her opening.

“I need to be inside you,” he said, his voice so deep it vibrated through her.

“I want you,” she told him, and lifted her hips to meet him.

But although her mind was screaming with desire, her body hadn’t quite gotten on board yet. He went to push inside her, and she felt her own resistance.

“Too soon?” he asked.

She shook her head underneath him. “Try again.”

“Not a chance.”

She started to protest, but he kissed her silent. She felt his fingers replace where his cock had just been. “I’m not going to fuck you until you’re nice and wet for me.”

She opened her mouth but found she had no idea what to say. She would have expected Reed to want it hard. Rough. Quick and dirty, and then done.

But any time she thought she knew him, he went and surprised her.

No one had ever taken such time with her before. She’d be hard pressed to think of another guy who would’ve even noticed if she was ready or not.

But Reed noticed. When they were both out of their minds with wanting, he read her body. He cared.

He kissed his way down her stomach and buried his face between her thighs. He kissed her clit—not a lick, but a real kiss. Then a nibble. A suck. A tease.

Holy shit.

She bucked her hips up, her hands on his head to push him down. Get him closer, closer. God yes.

Right. There.

She gasped to let him know he had it. She couldn’t believe he knew so completely what to do for her. And was so eager to do it at all.

He circled her clit with his tongue. Slow at first, agonizing. And then picking up speed, moving with the motions of her hips, driving her out of her mind.

He slid a finger inside her as he licked. The anticipation of what was coming, of him inside her, of how he was going to fuck her, made her legs clench as her hands clawed at his shoulders.

“Reed,” she panted. “I need this.”

“Let me give it to you.”

He pushed another finger inside. She let out a cry that lowered into a moan as he worked his fingers in rhythm with his tongue, flooding her with sensation.

She gripped the bedsheets. Clasped his face with her thighs.

He pushed her leg up, hitching it over his shoulder. The sensation intensified. It was like diving into deeper water, feeling the darkness, the pressure all around her. Losing every other sense, every distraction, and just being in it.

His tongue flicked. It circled and pressed.

And she dove.

Her orgasm was like coming up for air, bursting through the surface and heaving a breath. She’d held on as long as she could, until everything was a prickle of need building inside her, until she was tension and tightness and longing itself.

And then sunlight, the flood of escape, her body rolling and shaking with it, the shivers going down to her toes. He kept licking her, softly, so soft it was barely the touch of his tongue.

This wasn’t some obligation oral, like he didn’t want to bother but would put in a few lashes with his tongue so he could get a blowjob next. He was lingering, kissing her sweetly between her legs, making all her pleasure last.

Finally, he looked up. “How was that?”

She reached overhead, grabbed a pillow, and threw it at him. He grinned and swatted it away. “That good?” he asked.

“Is it a special agent thing to ask questions you already know the answer to?” She ran a hand over his shoulder, touching the blues and greens and grays of his inked skin where it met the insides of her thighs.

He slid a finger over her opening. “That’s better,” he said and kissed her clit again. It was so…so…

So not what she thought was going to happen.

They were supposed to fuck. That was it. He wasn’t supposed to kiss her like that. There.

Like he wanted it—wanted her—and wanted her to feel it.

She didn’t know she could fuck and be kissed like that. That the two could go together, and she could demand it all.

She closed her eyes, her body still pulsing, her head swimming. Trying to go with it, not think, not wonder.

Reed kissed her thighs, her belly button, her breast. Her neck, her ear, and finally, her lips. She felt his hardness press into her stomach, straining against her.

Looked like taking care of her hadn’t flagged his interest one bit. More like the opposite. He reached over and got something out of his nightstand drawer. Another condom?

But it was a bottle. He opened it, squirted something onto his fingertips.

She squirmed uncomfortably against him.

“Always prepared,” he said, rubbing the slippery liquid over his cock. “I mean, not always,” he added quickly. “That sounded bad. You’ll notice the bottle is basically full. I haven’t had much use for it since—”

He cut off abruptly. “Since?” she prompted, intrigued about where this little confession was going.

“Just since moving in.” He put more lube on his fingers and brought them between her legs.

“I don’t want you to think I’m—” she started.

“That you’re what?” he murmured as he slid those slippery fingers inside her, so excruciatingly slow that she writhed her body, arching her hips so he’d put them in deeper, harder, faster and fuck her already. The very thing she’d just thought she couldn’t take.

“That you’re wet?” he said, letting the word drip luxuriously off his tongue. “That you need this?”

“That I’m not—” she tried again. He pushed his first two fingers in deeper, and she swallowed whatever she was going to say with a groan.

“Not ready yet?” He stroked her steady, steady.

“That I’m not—I can’t—”

She thought he was going to keep torturing her, that she was going to lose the power of speech altogether while he made her come again. And probably again, and again after that, turning her into nothing but babbling jelly, liquid in his hands.

But mercifully he let up. Barely, but enough to pull her back from the edge he’d been pushing her toward.

“That you won’t be a good fuck if we have to use lube,” he said, low and dirty in her ear, that word fuck making her clench around his fingers, a spasm of pleasure running all the way through her.

“Something like that,” she murmured weakly.

He took her hand and brought it to his cock. She wrapped her fingers around it. It was thick, slippery, and very, very hard.

“You think this isn’t going to be good?” he asked seductively.

She whimpered. Fuck, no. This was going to be good.

“You think I don’t want it?” he went on.

She whimpered again. She was always a talker, but she couldn’t form words. He obviously wanted it. Bad.

He positioned himself back on top of her. The head of his cock nudged her open and she spread her legs to make room. His hand went to the base of the condom, holding it in place. “I want you relaxed, wet, and begging for it. Think you can do that, beautiful?”

“Please, Reed.” She was practically sobbing with need. “Fuck me, please.”

He’d pushed her over the edge, but he was jumping right in after her. He pinned her arms down, spread her legs, and thrust in.

She was wet, she was slippery. He was wet, he was slippery. The stretch inside her, the smoothness of his thrust, was so perfect, all she could do was close her eyes and let the feeling take over.

“That’s it,” he said, his voice urging her on. She felt his heavy breathing, his desperate eagerness to be inside her. As deep as he could go.

He began to move on top of her, faster, harder, deeper. As the pleasure built between them, the slow, careful push was gone, replaced with nothing but need. It should have been too much, everything about it too close to the edge.

But it wasn’t. She found herself whimpering, pushing her hips up to meet him, raising her right leg to brace against his muscular frame and take him deeper. Her arms went around his shoulders, her hands down his back. Nails on his skin, grabbing his ass. Feeling the taut work of his muscles with every thrust.

It was hot, it was sweaty, it was incessant. And it was so, so dirty.

Reed in his regular life was gruff, closed off. She practically had to pull words from him. What was he thinking? Where was Stacey? What was happening on his case?

But this was different. He was different.

The same present, intense, focused man she knew. Only now, he was holding her so tightly, like he had to be closer, closer. Like she could give herself over to him and trust that he’d never let go.

The thought should have been terrifying. But instead, it made her wild.

“You’re going to make me come again,” she gasped as he pressed into her, his cock just right where he thrust.

“Good,” he whispered in her ear. “I want to feel it. I want to feel you come.”

That was it. The wave that crashed through her tore her breath away. She clung to him, her whole body trembling, as she came hard. Through the fog in her mind, she was spinning. Had anyone ever made her come not once but twice before he did? And then paused until she was ready for him?

But Reed did, until she hooked her heels over the back of his legs to pull him closer, telling him more. And he listened, drilling into her so hard, so deep, that she was still trembling with her own pleasure as he shuddered against her and came.

She’d felt his power with every thrust, his incredible strength. But when he collapsed on top of her, rolling partway off, he held her with a different kind of power, a different kind of strength.

She had to remember not to get wrapped up in it. Not to think about how good it felt, how much she wanted it. How it was exactly the kind of feeling she craved when she lay alone in bed at night, pressing herself against a pillow, wishing there was somebody out there in the world who could fuck her and still hold her after, and wake up with her the next morning to do it all over again.

But it felt so damn good, she just wanted to shut her mind off and enjoy it before it inevitably came to an end.

Because these things always ended, didn’t they? At least they always seemed to for her.