A Fine Specimen (12 page)

“Alex?”

God, even her voice was soft, with just that slight hint of
honeysuckle that drove him crazy.

“Yeah?” If she wanted to have a conversation—well hell,
knowing her, it would have to be an
intelligent
conversation—he was in
deepest shit, because he could barely remember his name.

“Are we going to have sex?”

“Oh yeah,” he breathed.

Ping.

That was the sound of all his restraints popping.

“Good.”

With a groan, he bent down to her again at a sharper angle,
his mouth claiming hers, his tongue licking hers. She had a wonderful taste—the
bourbon, the faint overtones of the good Merlot at dinner and something else
that was pure sex. Could surrender have a taste? If it did, this was it. Her
mouth was completely open to his as her head fell back against his hand. Her
arms snaked around his neck and he pulled her closer as neurons sputtered and
died in his head from overload.

There was a protocol to kissing. You start out slow and
build up—then you can stop kissing and get to have sex. But before then, still
in the kissing stage, there’s a moment when you understand whether the woman is
signaling with her mouth that, yes, they’d be getting it on soon. Once he got
to the kissing stage, Alex was rarely refused. So locking lips was a way station
to fucking.

Not now, not with Caitlin. It wasn’t a way station to
something else, it was something hot and bewitching in its own right. This
wasn’t a lead-in kiss, soft little nibbles, delicate probing with his tongue.

He was way too excited for that.

He just plunged straight into her mouth. He placed his open
mouth on hers and, to his delight, found her already open for him, soft tongue
meeting his immediately. He stroked her mouth with his tongue and felt her
sighs against his lips. Each stroke of her tongue sent blood straight to his
cock until it was practically dancing in his jeans. His thumb was right against
the artery in her neck and he swore he could feel her pulse picking up its
rhythm each time his tongue touched hers.

Alex lost track of time, totally lost in the moment, his
world reduced to her slim arms around his neck, her breasts against his chest
and her open mouth against his. He held her head with both hands, angling it
slightly to get a deeper, tighter fit, the smell and the taste of her going
straight to his head, hotter and better than the bourbon.

He was hard as a rock, and had been since he’d touched her.
Just his finger against the soft skin of her neck had made him swell and, with
each stroke of his tongue against hers, he could feel his cock lengthening in
hard surges.

Alex cupped her shoulders, feeling the small straps holding
up her dress and the slim, strong muscles of her upper arms. His hands glided
down to her waist then slowly worked their way back up to the top of the dress.

Ah, there it was. The gateway to paradise. The little zipper
doohicky that you pulled to unzip.

He slid the zipper of her dress halfway down and separated
the fabric. His hands encountered warm, silky woman and nothing else. He lifted
his mouth from hers for just a second.

“All this time,” he gasped, dick so hard it hurt. “All
during dinner, I’ve been wondering what you were wearing under this dress.” He
smoothed his palms over her soft, warm, bare back. “And now I know.”

“Now you know,” she murmured as he ran his lips over her
temple, down to her jaw. She jumped when he nipped her lightly.

He knew a lot of things now. How her breathing sped up when
he kissed her, how her back arched when he clasped her small waist, how her
breath shuddered when his tongue met hers.

He kept his hands slow, touching her carefully, but what he
wanted to do was devour her. Crush her to him with all his strength, then strip
her and take her, hard and fast. His head was filled with images of them
together, him buried deep inside her, slamming into her, fucking her hard,
harder than he’d ever had another woman. The desire that shook him was violent
and it took more effort than he liked to keep his hands gentle.

He held his hands open by sheer force of will. What he
wanted to do was clutch her, grab at her, sink his fingers into her soft flesh.
He wanted to turn his hands into grappling hooks that would bind her to him so
strongly she could never get away.

The images in his head frightened him. His hands were
strong. If he gripped her as hard as he wanted to, he’d leave bruises all over
that pale, creamy skin.

Sliding his open palms upward along the satiny planes of her
back, he lightly cupped her head in both hands once more and delved deeply into
her mouth. He picked the pins one by one out of her hair and shuddered as the
shiny, heavy mass spilled over his hands, her shoulders. The sweet smell of
shampoo rose from her hair, like a flower whose petals had been crushed. It was
a heady scent, almost overpoweringly sexy.

“God!” he gasped, burying his face in her neck, feeling the
soft curls like tendrils against his skin. Hesitantly, he licked her neck,
feeling the vein pulsing there, wanting to bite her. He gave into temptation
and nipped her. Not hard enough to hurt but sure as hell hard enough to mark
possession. She jumped slightly, shuddered. Her breath caught and she let it
out in a little moan.

Oh fuck, this was just so delicious. Absolutely everything
about it. The feel of her, the smell of her, the taste of her.

He opened the edges of the dress farther and smoothed them
forward over her shoulders. The lightest shift, a soft shimmy and slight lift
of her hips and it was off. So easy, like something preordained. He hated
taking layers off women, but this was like something out of a dream. A whoosh
and the dress was gone.

He pulled away and held her at arm’s length, staring
hungrily. She was so perfect, small and delicate, with firm, smooth muscles.
She blushed under his gaze, the color rosy, the color of arousal, so different
from the stoplight-red she’d been before when she dumped a ton of chocolate into
his lap.

That tiramisù in his lap was what had brought them to this
moment. Bless it. He was going to have it bronzed.

Looking at her was good, touching her was better. He pulled
her forward until he was nuzzling her neck, kissing the soft skin behind her
ears, raking his teeth down a tendon. It excited her. She shuddered, gave a
soft moan. He pulled back a breath and looked down. Oh yeah, her nipples had
hardened.

“I don’t know what to do first,” he whispered. A finger
reached out, circled her nipple. She shuddered again. His eyes rose, met hers.
“Help me out here, Caitlin. What do I do now?”

Her mouth opened then closed. She huffed out a small breath
in a laugh. “I have no idea. Surely the great Lieutenant Cruz isn’t looking for
instructions
from me?”

The great Lieutenant Cruz hadn’t had something this
delectable under his hands in a long, long time.

“Well…I want to do things that please you. That’s the
general idea, and that’s why I asked.”

She was quiet a moment, light blue eyes wide. The color was
amazing in the penumbra of the room. It was like she had twin searchlights in
her head.

“Everything you do to me is pleasing,” she said simply.

Alex lost it. Simply lost it.

Surging up from the couch with Caitlin in his arms, he made
for the staircase, his mouth on hers. She was light as a feather, but even if
she hadn’t been, he was so blasted by lust he had superhuman strength. He would
have carried her up if she’d been a solid bronze statue, because upstairs was
where his bed was and he wanted her on it—and him on her—more than he wanted
his next breath.

He stubbed his toe on the first step and muttered “
shit
!”
into her mouth. Her lips curved under his.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” she breathed against his
mouth as he raced up the stairs. “You might throw your back out.”

Fuck yeah
he wanted to do this!“It’s my night
for living dangerously,” he growled.

Alex didn’t turn on the light in his bedroom. The curtains
were open and a full moon shone in, bathing Caitlin in luminescence. He set her
on her feet, this slim, pale column of woman, and spent about a second enjoying
the view. He wanted to enjoy this view for hours, but he wanted his hands on
her more.

She was wearing brief, white stretchy panties and high
heels.

Jesus.

“Wow, I’m glad I didn’t know what was under that dress. Or
what
wasn’t
under that dress.” He buried his face in her hair. “I’d
never have made it through dinner.”

He ran his index finger around the elastic of her panties.
When she clutched his shoulders and gasped, he caught her mouth beneath his and
slipped his hand down over her flat little belly, past the elastic, and cupped
her.

The heat was incredible. He waggled his hand gently from
side to side and she obeyed the silent signal, shifting her legs to open them.
Ah yes. That was better. He circled his finger around her opening, feeling the
moisture welling. Perfect.

Her pubic hair was soft, almost as soft as the skin of her
cunt, slick and warm and welcoming. He could feel her welcome as he slid his
middle finger around her. Some women had steel traps for cunts but not Caitlin.
The soft, plump folds were inviting him in and he took the invitation. He slid
his middle finger into her, deeply, feeling her catch her breath against his
mouth. She was aroused, there was no doubt about that, her cream coated his
hand—but she was small and tight. They were going to need as much cream as he
could coax out of her.

Alex probed her pussy with his finger in exactly the same
cadence and rhythm as his tongue exploring her mouth. She was caught by him,
one hand clutching the back of her head tightly, holding her closely against his
mouth, and the other cupping her between her legs, one finger embedded deeply
inside her. She couldn’t escape him even if she wanted to.

She didn’t want to, that was clear. Her arms were tight around
his neck, fingers in his hair. He could feel her skin warming up through his
tee shirt, those lovely naked breasts rubbing against his chest. When he
slanted his mouth to kiss her more deeply, she opened even more to him. When
their tongues met, her little cunt contracted against his finger and he felt an
answering throb in his dick. He moved his finger experimentally, in and out,
and she gave a little cry as her cunt clenched tightly. She was seconds from
coming, and so was he.

Not here. Not like this.

When it happened, he wanted them to be on the bed and he wanted
to be on top of her, cock in cunt, riding her.

Alex didn’t much care what positions he took with his sex
partners. He often left it up to the woman and if she wanted to be on top, that
was fine with him. More than fine. Less work for him.

But not this time, not with Caitlin. Not the first time. He
wanted her spread out under him, that glorious hair a pale cloud around her
head. He wanted to be on top, holding her down with the weight of his body,
thrusting heavily into her. The missionary position, they called it, but he
didn’t feel like a missionary. He felt raw and primitive and he wanted to take
her in the most basic way there was, male taking female, hard and fast and
dominant.

It was a night for slow seduction. A plaintive sax throbbed
in the distance. He held a beautiful woman in his arms. There was even a full
moon shining right outside his window, the way it was supposed to. The music,
the night, the moon, a beautiful woman…he should be slowly arousing her, plying
her with kisses and caresses, murmuring words of praise.

He
should
be murmuring words of praise because she
was, hands down, the most beautiful woman he’d ever held in his arms. He had no
trouble sweet-talking other women, why was it he couldn’t find the words right
now? The heat in his head blasted all the words right out.

Alex knew how to do this. He had all the moves and God
knows, he’d practiced them often enough. He knew how to juice a little
romanticism into the moment. But all those savvy, practiced moves, all that
knowledge about what women liked simply drained from his head, together with
all the blood in it.

Make an effort.
He pulled back from her lips,
something so hard he should get a goddamn medal for it. “You’re so beautiful,”
he croaked.

She blinked then pulled him down to her by his ears. “Kiss
me,” she said.

Okay. She didn’t need words. Neither did he.

Hunger seethed in his veins. Instead of stripping her
gently, he all but tore off her panties until they pooled around her ankles
then lifted her up and away from them before lifting her onto the bed. He
wasn’t gentle about it, either. He dropped her so hard she bounced.

He placed a knee on the bed and bent down to take her shoes
off. Very pretty shoes. Classic fuck-me shoes. He slipped them off her very
pretty feet and tossed them over his shoulder, where they landed with twin
thuds.

Her pale skin glowed in the moonlight. When she smiled at
him and murmured, “Alex,” he broke his own personal stripping speed record,
flinging his clothes behind him in a blur instead of neatly folding them onto
the wooden butler next to the chest of drawers, as he did every night.

Alex was about ready to jump on her when the two neurons
left in his head sputtered to life.

There was something wrong with this picture. But what?

She was naked. Check. Wonderful.

He was naked. Check. Great— No,
wait
! He wasn’t
supposed to be completely naked, he was supposed to have something on…

Condom!

With shaking hands, Alex reached into his bedside table,
where he used to keep his condoms, back when he used to have a sex life.
Tearing a packet open, he pulled the latex ring out and handed it to Caitlin.
His hands were sweating. He’d never get it done. “You put it on.”