Hard Rules - Lisa Renee Jones Page 0,115
me down on top of a giant tan ottoman, some sort of soft material framed by leather replacing his hands on my bare backside, and one of my shoes comes off. I kick the other one free of my foot and he settles on one knee in front of me, reaching for the buttons on his shirt, his lips curving. “I’ll do it this time.”
My worries fade, amazed that the same person who stirs darker emotions in me manages to make me smile so easily. “I could try again,” I offer.
“Not necessary,” he assures me, and already four buttons down, he reaches behind him, and pulls the shirt over his head, a sprinkle of dark hair over his chest, and delicious muscle ripping as he tosses it on the coffee table behind him.
My gaze immediately lands on the unexpected tattoo on his arm of a lion, with an eagle sitting on its head with its wings spread. I reach out and touch it. “Why a lion and an eagle?” I ask.
His expression tightens, unreadable but hard, and I do not miss the fact that he is not touching me.
“The eagle is knowledge, strength, and leadership. The lion is cunning and vicious. He’ll rip your throat out if you give him the chance.”
I blanch. “Are you the lion or the eagle? Or both?”
He reaches for me, dragging me to the floor in front of him and then turning me to face the ottoman, his big body framing mine, his hands cupping my breasts. “I’m the man who’s wanted to fuck you for hours and it’s time for me to be inside you.”
An onslaught of sensations and emotions overwhelm me, and I decide I’ve hit a nerve with Shane, like he does too easily with me. “You’re the one who won’t get undressed,” I accuse.
He nips my shoulder as if punishing me for seeing too much, and this time it’s harder than when we were outside. “Shane,” I object at the same instant his tongue licks away the sting, his mouth finding my ear.
“Don’t move.” He doesn’t wait for my agreement, lifting off of me, and the truth is, I could turn around but I don’t want to move. I’ve stirred some demon in him the way he has for me, and he is taking us back to the place we were meant to be. Sex. Just sex. He wants it. I want it.
There is movement behind me, the rip of a package that has to be a condom, and almost immediately Shane’s wrapped around me again, his hand on my breast, the other sliding the thick ridge of his erection along my sex. And then he is inside me, burying himself to the hilt and I can’t breathe for the sensations rolling through me.
His mouth finds my ear. “You feel as damn good as I knew you would.” He pulls back then, and I am certain he will pull out, before he finally drives into me again, deep, hard, pleasure spiraling through me.
Now both hands are on my breasts, his body snugly molded to mine, and I swear I lose everything but this moment, and the next. My fingers curl into my palms, the ottoman too wide for me to hold the sides. I arch into the next thrust of his hips and he lifts me until we are both almost upright, me leaning into him. We stay like that a moment not moving, just breathing together, just feeling each other, and then he’s moving again, his fingers sliding to my clit and caressing.
I can’t move. Not at this angle, but I don’t have to wither. He moves for us both, and oh so well. I give myself to it, to him, and just feel. A tight ball is forming in my sex, and somehow my hand is in his, and he’s pressing it between my legs, using it to please me. And somehow he thrusts all the right ways and I’m gone. I’m lost and my head falls forward with the tightening of my body. I come with a fierce quake of my body, my sex spasming around him, and this deep, guttural sound rumbles from his chest, telling me that he’s right there with me.
I have goose bumps all over my skin when I realize it’s over, and we’re just together, unmoving, still holding each other. Shane leans me forward, and I catch myself on my hands. He pulls out and I am instantly awash in emotion that has me spinning around only to find his hands on the cushion on either side of me, his strong arms caging me.
I turn around, and he sits there, staring at me. And he is stone, his expression is unreadable, his jaw set hard. I hold my breath, waiting for something I think he wants to say but has not. “There is nothing about you, or this night, that is uncomplicated or what I expected.”
“I don’t know what that means,” I say, and it’s true. Or maybe it’s not, but this time it’s not an intentional lie. “What are you saying?”
“Think about it. You’ll figure it out. Stay here, I’ll be right back.” And just like that he’s on his feet, pulling up his pants, which he never even took off. I’ve been naked on top of the damn city, and he never even undressed. He turns away and I watch as he crosses toward the fireplace and then disappears down a hallway.