Maressa looked down then back up. “As an outfit, it’s just not very appealing.”
His eyes travelled over her body with a smoldering heat that made her thighs tighten. His nostrils flared wide and for a moment she imagined that he could smell her excitement. Ridiculous.
“If you were any more appealing, my heart could not take it. Did you not feel how it beats for you?”
She had felt it, could still feel it. The rhythm was strong, mesmerizing.
“But perhaps that is a polite excuse,” he said. “If you do not want to have dinner with me, you may say it freely. I am not a spoiled boy who throws a tantrum when I do not get my way.”
“Of course it’s not an excuse. I want to have dinner with you.”
Maressa was obliged to make the admission in spite of herself. She didn’t want him to think that she put him in the same category as Biff and his stupid friend. He was so different, so far above them, he might as well have been from another species.
“Then it is settled.”
The deep satisfaction in Ives’s voice gave her a moment’s pause. Why was it so important to him?
But when he drew her close to his powerful chest and the heat and clean scent of his skin rose in a teasing wave, the thought was gone.
His scent wasn’t overpowering like some cologne could be, but he smelled so damned good. She wanted to lean in to the strong column of his throat and find where that wonderful scent originated so she could bite him right there, just a little.
A big part of her was shocked by her ungovernable response. Every move the man made, every word he spoke in that pussy-clenching accent, went straight to her feminine core and she had no defense. He was more compelling to her than any man she had ever met, more tempting than her favorite caramel mocha swirl cheesecake but without the guilt of extra calories. The man was lethal.
He brushed one finger over her lips and a quick panting breath escaped her. She was ready to spontaneously combust and he was still smiling. If they weren’t in a public place, a place where she worked, she would climb right into his lap and nibble and stroke and give him a little taste of the torture he was inflicting on her.
She wanted him to stop teasing. She wanted another deep slow kiss like the one that had burned through her the night before. She wanted him to press her back on the little table and drive into her throbbing pussy until the whole world exploded.
She wanted him until she ached inside with it.
“What would you do if I said no?” she asked, trying to make her brain start up again. It was a ridiculous question. She had already said yes.
His smile lit his eyes.
“I would start all over. Perhaps the manner of our meeting did not show you fully who I am. I would serenade you with the words of the poets, men like Byron and Keats, who had a true understanding of the beauty of a woman.”
His breath feathered over her skin and goose bumps rose.
“I would seduce you with my voice and my touch, until you were able to say yes to me over and over and mean it every time, until you wanted to say yes to me and only to me.”
“If a woman says no, a man gets discouraged. Doesn’t he?” She couldn’t imagine the kind of control it would take to say no to him once, never mind to keep it up, but the question itself might distract her from begging him for another kiss.
Ives laughed and the low sound travelled up her spine like tickling fingers.
“I am a warrior. I do not get discouraged and stop. I simply try again in a different way. I would show you everything I am, every thought in my head and every wish in my heart. For you, I would take my time and think of a thousand ways to seduce you.”
He would take his time? Her mind shuddered to a halt.
Maressa writhed into a better position and moaned. His hard body pinned her to the cool wood of the door and the hot ridge of his penis rubbed right where she needed it. He thrust forward once and ground in a circular motion that blasted her nerves into a swift shattering climax.
Ives lowered her to the floor and stripped her pants down her legs while she was still shaking from the bright orgasm. She took a deep breath and wiggled out of her shirt and bra. She was trying to help him, help them, but it took twice as long as it should because her system was already fried.
He pulled his shirt over his head and it went flying.
When he lowered his zipper and shucked his jeans all in one motion, she stopped and stared. Her mouth watered at the sight of his powerful arousal rising toward her. A trickle of heated moisture rolled down her thigh and she shivered. Every part of him was gorgeous.
He pulled her further into the great room, urged her on with hot little kisses. They knelt on a soft white rug, rolled together until he was above her.
His glorious face lowered to hers. She could be happy just looking at him and feeling that tingle in her belly whenever his eyes met hers.
His mouth was hot and so gentle the sweet rise of pleasure took her by surprise. His taste popped and fizzed through her blood like the finest champagne. The nervous tension that had kept her spine straight all day let go and her muscles relaxed.
The kiss deepened, his arms tightened around her, and she was crushed close in his embrace while clever fingers plucked and played with her nipples. She sighed, accepting the flow of bright sensation, sliding her hands up into his hair.
His hand on her breast shook, but he was slow and thorough. His tender approach made her sigh. It made her want to surrender.
He sucked on her tongue and they rocked together. Lights flashed behind her eyes while he pushed inside slow and deep.
She couldn’t stifle a moan. She could feel her body stretching around his cock, her moisture easing his way, but it was a tight fit for them. He was a big man and she wasn’t used to sex any more. The sensation hovered on the fine edge of pain, but lord, it was good.
He thrust again, seeking a deeper connection, and nudged a spot that made her eyes roll back and shot her system into overdrive. She gripped his hair and pulled him even closer.
“Please,” she said. She hooked one leg around his strong back and his thick cock edged a little deeper. “I could almost—”
“Count to twenty,” he said through his teeth. “Don’t come again until we hit twenty.”
Twenty? He might as well ask for a hundred. She writhed around him and his hands clamped down to hold her hips still. She’d never make it to twenty.
“I can’t!” It came out as a wail. She wriggled and bucked, on the ragged edge of an amazing orgasm, but he held steady.
“One, two,” she began desperately.
With each successive number, he slid into her slow and hard and to the hilt. She was very wet now, her body inviting him, begging him, to come inside.
“Three, four, five.”
She tried to speed up her counting, but he slapped her bottom.
“Start over,” he said, and she could have cried. “Keep your rhythm slow. Twenty.”
Her body was overheating and her voice was hoarse from the cries she was holding back, but she wanted him.
“One,” she gasped out. “Two.”
He surged in and out like a powerful ocean wave, pleasure building moment by moment until she was swamped with it, floating in a sea of bliss and still he rocked into her over and over, led by the rhythm her voice created.
Her body flowed up to meet his, rippling and grasping around him at every entry and exit. At this rate, she would never make it to ten.
The muscles in his back tightened and released. She swept her hands down to try to pull him deeper inside.
He slowed his movements, but never stopped for a moment. She couldn’t catch her breath. There was never a hitch, never a respite from the beautiful torture.