Notorious Page 18

  "Fine."

  "Good. I've always found that couch sort of short."

  "You’re six feet tall, Jon-Michael. I am five-six." She yawned again. "I had plenty of room."

  "I suppose." He watched the slow, lazy blink of her heavy-lidded eyes, took in the flush across her cheekbones, the dark hair crazy-curling around her face, and had to clear his throat. "So. Uh, how about some breakfast?"

  "'Kay," she agreed amiably and turned to the refrigerator. She opened the door, bent to look inside, and then pulled out a carton of eggs and a quart of milk. "Scrambled okay?"

  Jon-Michael laughed and climbed off his stool to remove the items from her hands. He set them on the counter behind her. "No, I meant how would you like me to make breakfast."

  "Oh." She gave him a sleepy, dulcet smile. "That's even better."

  "Ah, man," he murmured. “You’re killing me, here.” Wrapping his hands around her hips, he lifted her onto the counter next to the breakfast ingredients. He stroked his fingers down her legs, spread her knees and stepped between them, stroking his hands up and down her thighs. "Are you always this sweet in the morning?"

  She blinked at him. Hitched a shoulder. "Beats me. I wake up pretty happy."

  "It is nice. Killer nice." He brought his hands up to cup her face, then leaned forward and kissed her. Gently. Sweetly.

  She made a humming sound low in her throat and draped her arms over his shoulders. Her lips were soft beneath his and appreciation rumbled in Jon-Michael's throat. He opened his mouth a little over hers, but strove to keep the kiss light and friendly.

  Then Hayley slid the tip of her tongue into his mouth, shooting his intentions all to hell.

  Groaning, he plunged his hands into her hair, wrapping fistfuls of the bobbing curls around his knuckles and pulling her head back until her throat arched. Rocking his mouth more firmly over hers, his kiss lost all semblance of its sweet intent and became hard, demanding. And still she made that little humming noise as her lips clung faithfully to his.

  What might have been minutes or his entire lifetime later, he pulled back. Staring down at Hayley’s kiss-reddened, swollen lips, he could not smooth out his ragged breaths as he took in that offered mouth, those closed eyes and flushed cheeks.

  Sweet squalling Baby Jesus, the things she made him feel! He wanted to dominate her and use her hard; he wanted to worship her tenderly from the top of her head right down to her toes. With the tip of his tongue he toyed with her mouth, probing at the soft lining of her lips and watching as they opened yet wider to accept a deeper penetration. He obliged her with one slow, gliding plunge, but when she wrapped her lips around his tongue and sucked, he damn near lost it.

  He pulled back and bent his head to kiss the baby-soft skin beneath the point of her chin. It felt so amazing he got hung up stringing a line of kisses long on heated suction down the length of her throat.

  Loosening his unyielding grip in her hair allowed her to lift her head until it was once more upright. He untangled his fingers from curls he swore fought to maintain possession of them. Once free, he smoothed his hands over her shoulders and down the long line of her back. At her waist he gathered the loose folds of his T-shirt and tugged until the pert outline of her breasts was clearly revealed. Lowering his head, he opened his mouth over her right nipple.

  "Oh!" Hayley did not hesitate to thrust her breasts forward and her head promptly dropped back once more. He alternated between sucking on and catching the sharp little point between his teeth and tugging at it. She made helpless sounds of arousal and clamped her thighs around his hips. As the cloth over her right breast grew wet her fingers speared through his hair to hold him in place.

  By the time he lifted his head, her hips had instigated a slow bump and grind against the countertop. Staring at the impudent thrust of her nipple beneath the soaked cloth, he reached out and pinched its unattended mate. Squeezing and gently finessing, he raised his gaze to look into her eyes. "I want to see you naked. Now."

  Luckily she seemed to have forgotten her vow he would never see her breasts again, for she actually obeyed his command and peeled the T-shirt off over her head. It fluttered to the floor and she scooped her hands beneath her breasts, pressing them up in offering. "Oh, gawd, Johnny," she said hoarsely. "Please."

  A short, succinct curse escaped him and his hands clenched her hips as he lowered his head and wrapped his lips around the sweet protuberance of her left nipple. Pressing it to the roof of his mouth with his tongue, he drew on her strongly.

  A keening sound purled out of Hayley's throat and he switched to her other breast, giving it equal attention. His hands slid over her hips to stroke her inner thighs. He smiled to himself when her legs spread wider with each successive brush of his fingers. She was so responsive. So, damn—his fingers brushed the damp satin between her thighs—hot.

  With an inarticulate sound of encouragement, she raised her hips, pushing into his touch.

  He pulled his hands away and went back to smoothing them down her thighs. Needing to kiss her again, he raised his mouth from her breast. Before he could reach his objective, however, Hayley pressed an open-mouthed kiss into the damp contour of his neck and flattened her palms down his back.

  Shuddering, he leaned into her touch. Even as he tilted his jaw first one way then the other in order to offer her the greatest access to his throat, he worked her panties down her hips with deft hands. Love you. The words drifted like smoke through his brain, but this time he was smart enough not to say them aloud.

  Hayley’s hands moved around to his chest. She stroked it, tunneled her fingers through its light fan of hair and tugged. Then she rubbed her hands down his abs. Leaning forward, she kissed his mouth as she her fingers slipped from one ridge to the next in a downward trajectory. A moment later her hand delved into the open fly of his cutoffs.

  Every muscle in Jon-Michael's stomach clenched and he fought the urge to push his cock into her palm. He wanted to feel her fingers grip him. Wanted it bad.

  Wrapping his hand around the back of her neck, he kissed her with unbridled passion, then stepped back. "Let's see about you," he whispered and bent to kiss her stomach. Gradually his head lowered until it was buried between her thighs. His tongue slipped out to part soft, plump folds.

  Hayley sucked in a sharp breath and pulled her heels up onto the counter, opening herself up to him. In an almost immediate reversal, she gripped his hair and pulled his head back, letting her legs drop back over the side. She looked down at him and shivered at the heavy-lidded dark eyes returning her gaze. "You sure like to kiss me there, don't you?"

  The smile he gave her was slow, one-sided, and carnal. His tongue slid over his bottom lip. "Uh huh." He rubbed the side of his face against her inner thigh, his morning stubble a sandpaper rasp against her skin. His eyes never left hers. "Let go of my hair, darlin’, and I will show you how much."

  She didn't relinquish her grip. "I don't want to come that way, Jon-Michael. I want you inside me."

  His jeans dropped to his ankles almost before the last word was spoken. He kicked them aside and reached for her.

  "Wait." Hayley jerked erect at the sight of his hard-on. "Wait a sec. I wanna look." And she did precisely that, at length, while he stood in front of her looking as though he were trying not to fidget. His penis stood out from its nest of dark hair, pointing at her like an accusing...well, finger was not the word she was looking for. No, this was more a club, and screw the simile. This baby was thick and long and so damn masculine. And it pulsed crazily beneath her unabashed scrutiny. "Oh my," she finally murmured.

  "Just your standard model, ma'am. But let me show you what it can do."

  "In a minute." She hopped down off the counter. "I wanna touch it."

  "God Almighty, Hayley. You're doing this on purpose, aren't you? You are trying to see if you can take me from zero to ninety in under ten seconds." He threw up his hands in resignation. "Fine then. Go ahead."

  He had not really expected her
to take him at his word. So Jon-Michael’s breath exploded out of his lungs when she did precisely that. His chin snapped down and he stared at the sight of his cock protruding from her fist.

  Her very tight fist. He scowled at her.

  "I'm running on a real lean mix here, so remember you have no one but yourself to blame if my engine blows." He was embarrassed to note he could barely push his words past the tightness of his vocal cords.

  Holy crap, didn't she used to be shy? Okay, maybe never that, exactly, but... "I mean it, now. Do not come whining to me about being all revved up with nobody left in the race." Then he quit babbling like a fucking idiot and grit his teeth against the pleasure of her fist sliding up and down his dick. Not to mention the sight. Sweet Mother Mary, the sight.

  "I admire all the car references," she murmured and gave him a sleepy, sexy smile. "What does that make this then, your hot rod? That seems appropriate. Hot," she murmured, stooping to stroke his junk against the delicate inner curve of her breast. "Rawd." Holding him steady, she brushed her nipple back and forth against the very tip of his hard-on, transferring its minute drop of pre-cum. She smiled up at him as she spread it around, making her nipple glisten. Then she bent her head and pressed a kiss against the blunt head of his dick.

  "Okay, that cuts it," he breathed. Pulling her to her feet, he slid his hands to her hips, and lifted her in the air. Hayley's legs separated to wrap around him. "That’s my girl," he approved on a ragged breath. "Reach down and grab my cock, Hayley, honey. Guide me home."

  Happy to oblige, she did as directed and held him steady, edgy excitement flooding her as he slowly lowered her. She felt so hot and swollen, so empty, yet she jerked skittishly when the broad head of his penis penetrated her.

  Jon-Michael immediately stilled. He looked into her eyes. "You okay?"

  "Um hmm. Sure." But she had tensed and they both knew it. She bit her lip. "Just give me a second. It's been a long time for me."

  His fingers bit into her as his hands tightened on her butt. "Here, let me pull out."

  "No!"

  "Yeah. We'll try another position and—"

  "No, I want to do it this way. Give me a sec—"

  He raised her off him. She was outraged at having her wishes summarily ignored, but before she could express her displeasure he was pressing kisses into her forehead. "I'm sorry, Hayley, I am so sorry. I forgot all about a condom." He swung her into his arms and headed for the stairs.

  Up in the sleeping loft, he laid her on his king-sized bed, then bent to paw through the night stand drawer. By the time she struggled to her knees, impatiently swiping her hair from her eyes with her forearm, he had located a carton and turned with it in his hand.

  She thrust a finger at it. "Put one on," she ordered. “Then I want you to do it the way you were going to do it down there."

  He looked down at her, one corner of his mouth tilting up. "Bossy little thing, aren'tcha?" He donned the condom as directed but said seriously, "Look, darlin’, that might not be the best position if it's been awhile." Then his gaze narrowed, turning intent. "How long has it been, anyway?"

  "A while."

  "Uh huh. How long a while, exactly?"

  “About a year before Dennis died."

  "Jeez Louise! Look, maybe we had better—"

  She narrowed her own eyes at him. "Do not even suggest the missionary position, Olivet." That was practically all Dennis had been interested in and she wanted to do it standing up like Jon-Michael had started to do before she had gone all tense on him. She had never had a man do her that way.

  Jon-Michael looked at her all naked, determined and greedy-eyed, and wondered about her experience. He had a feeling it was not particularly extensive, but she sure as hell had killer instincts. It had taken her all of two minutes downstairs to reduce him to a randy, no-control teenager.

  "No missionary," he agreed. "But I get to be in charge here, and the first thing we do is build back up the intensity."

  She perked up. "By playing garage the hot rod again? I liked that."

  “Of course you did. You were damn good at it."

  She gave him the hundred-dollar smile that threatened to stop his heart every time. "No kidding?” She said it as if no one had ever complimented her sexual prowess before. “Thanks."

  God, he wanted to eat her up. "Oh, honey, it was definitely my pleasure. Let's get you revved up again and then you can have it any way your little heart desires. Standing, sitting, sideways, doggy; you name it. Myself, I kinda like the missionary position."

  "You would. Why stand when you can lie down, yeah?"

  “You bet.” Jon-Michael gave her a slow once-over and a smile so smoldering Hayley was pretty sure if she still wore panties they would spontaneously combust. His voice was a sable brush stroking her nerve endings when he added, "Bet I could make you like it, too."

  She didn’t doubt it for a moment. But having a reputation to maintain, she raised a skeptical brow. "So far all I'm hearing is a lot of talk. For all I know, that is all I'm going to get." She shook her hair behind her shoulders and sang softly, "I—can't—get—no-oh. Sat—is—fact—shun."

  The next thing she knew, she was buried beneath a hundred and eighty-five pounds of naked male.

  "Boy, you have a mouth on you." Jon-Michael pushed up on his elbows to look down at her. "Maybe I oughtta find a better use for it."

  She must have looked as interested as she felt, for he barked out a laugh. "Then again, maybe not. It would keep you quiet for awhile it's true, but then—"

  "We would have to listen to you whimper and scream," she inserted smoothly.

  The corner of his mouth crooked up but he didn’t reply as he used a fingertip to hook a strand of hair out of her eyes. "You know what our problem was downstairs?" he asked her softly. His lips touched her hairline, her eyebrows. He moved her hair aside and kissed the side of her throat.

  She angled her jaw to give him more room. "What?"

  "We moved too fast. I think we have to slow things down."

  Jon-Michael was a man of his word. He fed her slow, deep kisses, trailed his fingers over every inch of her body, used his lips on parts of her she never dreamed could be so erogenous. He took his own sweet time about it, too. Heat coursed throughout Hayley's body, and her fingers curled to grip the bedspread on either side of her. With every brush of his fingers or his stubble-roughed jaw against her inner thighs, the spread of her legs widened. But he ignored the one place she most wanted touched.

  "Oh, please," she finally begged. "Please." Her hips thrust high in an attempt to follow the hands that were sliding away as he rocked back on his heels between her feet. "Please-please Jon-Michael.”

  Sweat beaded his hairline and rolled down his temples and throat, but he gritted his teeth and ignored her plea. He rolled her onto her stomach.

  For several moments he massaged her back, settling her down. But soon his fingers started slipping over her sides, and with each firm upward knead her breasts rubbed against the spread. Hayley pushed up slightly and he reached under her to cup her breasts. He caught her nipples between his fingers and tugged, leaning forward to slide his erection between her legs. He rocked it back and forth along her slippery cleft.

  "Oh, God, Jon-Mich..oh! God, please!"

  He was tempted to simply pull her hips up and shove into her. But there was that long ago night he needed to make amends for, and he needed to be face to face with her when he did so, the better to see her every expression, to memorize her every emotion. He climbed off her and rolled from the bed.

  Hayley turned over slowly and looked at him standing at the side of the bed staring back down at her. She whispered his name enquiringly.

  "Come on, darlin’," he said gently extending his hand to her. "We're gonna take care of that itch for you now."

  She let him pull her off the bed and stumbled after him. Her knees were weak, and she felt the beat of her heart in that swollen place deep inside her.

  It was a hot, empt
y, aching feeling.

  He crossed the room and sprawled onto an armless Bentwood rocker. He looked up at her. "It's not standing up, Hayley honey, but neither is it the missionary position. Will it do?"

  "Sure," she said, but then merely stared down at him for a moment, her mind blank.

  He drew her forward and maneuvered her until she stood astride him. "Ease yourself down on me," he instructed. "Take it as slow as you want. We have all day."

  Bracing her hands on his hard shoulders, she lowered her hips until she felt the head of his erection probing at her opening. His hands settled on her hips, but he did not try to hurry her along and she reached between them to wrap her hand around the base of his penis and hold him steady as she lowered herself inch by cautious inch.

  She was burningly aware of the satin-covered rigidity in the U formed by her thumb and index finger, of the fullness of his shaft forging a trail through slippery tissues that had not been delved in far too long. Then her hand was in the way and she removed it, giving one last, firm push. She found herself fully impaled, his spread thighs hard beneath her butt, his sex hot and inflexible, stretching high inside her. Cautiously, she inched her legs forward and gave a slight push-off with her toes to set the rocker moving. His penis withdrew halfway then plunged back in, and her eyelids flew wide. "Whoa!"

  "Jeez-us Louise," Jon-Michael said in a gritty voice. "You are so. Damn. Tight." He planted his feet and took control of the rocking chair's rhythm, his hands on her butt easing her up his rigid shaft on the forward motion, then sliding her back down it as he rocked them back. He filled her, almost withdrew, then filled her again.

  Over and over again.

  The slow, inexorable stroking set up a friction she knew would send her burning out of control in no time. She clutched his shoulders, trying desperately to hold back the inevitable, to draw it out and make it last. But it was like trying to fight wildfire with a cheap plastic water pistol. Her eyelids grew heavy and her lips rounded as small, breathy “oh, oh, ohs” hiccuped up her throat. Each more audible than the last. Her head felt too heavy for her neck and dropped back.