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her one more firm thrust of his pelvis before he abruptly swung her legs back inside the
SUV, refastened her belt and moved back to the driver s side door.
No more words passed his lips until they were parked in her driveway and he shut
off the engine again. When he spoke, he didn t look at her. If I carry you in there, I ll be
there til morning. If you don t want that, you better get out of the car and get inside. I
won t leave until you have the door locked.
One last pity fuck for the abused ex-wife. One last night of untrammeled sex. Could
she handle that, after all that she d been through today? Her aching body grew hot at
the memory of his gentleness and his power. It didn t matter if it would never happen
again. She wanted it to happen tonight. To be able to carry the memory of this delicious
man with her for the rest of her days.
My legs won t work& she lied huskily. I can t walk without help.
He sat there waiting for her to make her decision. He was giving her an out. And
praying she wouldn t take it. His hands clenched the wheel, while his body throbbed
with need. He knew she had been shocked, most likely embarrassed all to hell by his
claiming her as his fiancé. The way she had stiffened, he realized instantly that she
didn t feel the same way about him that he felt about her. But he still wanted her. Even
if all she had to offer him was nothing but sex. He would take it. He would take it as
long as she was willing to have him.
When she spoke, the fist that was squeezing his heart relaxed and the blood that
had almost stopped moving began to pound through his veins once again. He slid out
of the seat and almost bounded over the hood of the SUV to jerk her door open and
drag her into his arms. He carried her up the steps to the porch, and after she unlocked
the door, he carried her into the darkened house. She struggled to get her feet on the
floor and he watched numbly as she closed the door, flicked the lock again and pulled
52
Nothing But Sex
the shades in the living room windows. When her eyes turned back to his, he drew in a
deep breath and held it. What?
I made us lunch, but we never got to eat it. And I m starving.
His breath whooshed out as she dropped the blanket and stripped her tiny tank off
over her head, to reveal that she was braless.
Aren t you hungry? she whispered as she ran her palm down his shirt front. He
ripped it off over his head without a word and let her hands caress his skin slowly,
setting fire to his body when her nails gently dragged seductively over his nipples.
Starving, he growled as she reached for his belt buckle. He unbuckled hers as she
opened his fly and gently fisted his cock as she shoved his jeans over his hips.
Mmmm& commando? Her lips trailed over his collarbone and her hot tongue
flicked his nipple. He pulled back as he saw the stitches, and his face tightened.
That fucking bastard, he hissed.
Forget Howard. Her voice was a shaky rasp as she drew his gaze back to hers.
He growled as he bared her body and let her jeans pool at her ankles. Her thong
had been torn off and the resulting bruises and scrapes on her thighs and soft belly
where he had planted his knee enraged him. He sank to his knees on her Navajo rug
and ran his mouth over her bruises. Her thighs were trembling. He slipped her feet out
of her sandals and helped her lose the jeans. And as he rose back up her body, his
tongue trailed slowly over her thigh, mons and belly, then swirled around her nipple.
Oh, God! She clasped his head to her breast and buried her lips in his thick black
hair. Oh, Mike. Oh, Lord!
He dragged her throbbing peak deep into his hot mouth as he kicked his own jeans
off, after toeing off his boots. His palms then slid up her ribs to gently lift and cup her
breasts and he felt her widen her stance as his eager cock prodded her belly.
What was for lunch? he murmured around her nipple.
53
Fran Lee
Belgian waffles with whipped raspberry cream and maraschino cherries, and
chicken canapés. In the fridge. But the Riesling is likely warm by now&
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