C onnor rotated over Lyric until he came to rest between her thighs, his body held up off her by his hands on either side of her head. She was ready for him. Satiny smooth and slick with her own arousal. And in her eyes glowed a sweetness that belied her hard edge. There was something to be said for a soft, willing woman underneath you—who looked at you like you held the answer to all the problems in the world. Lyric without the bite was sweet indeed. It made him wonder if anyone else ever saw the woman underneath the layers she’d carefully constructed. Did anyone even care? Wanting to taste her again, he fit his mouth to hers and licked over the seam of her lips just as he positioned himself at her entrance. “Tell me you’re ready now, Lyric,” he strained out. “Because I can’t wait any longer.” His body screamed at him to take her. To mark her and possess her in every primitive way there was for a man to possess a woman. “Take me,” she whispered. The fact that her words so perfectly echoed his thoughts made his chest tighten. Desire raged through his veins and he stilled for a moment before the urge to thrust as deeply into her as possible took over. He eased forward, bathing the head of his cock in her silken flesh. Sweat broke out on his forehead as he fought for control. “Connor.” His name escaped as a whispered plea and her eyes were glazed with passion. She stared at him through half lids, her vibrant blue eyes looking drugged and unfocused. He inched forward, pushing farther inside her. God, she was tight. Her nails raked over his back and came to rest on his ass. She arched and pulled at the same time, trying to force him deeper. With a groan he relented and thrust hard. It was all he could do to hang on as her sweet heat enveloped his aching erection. He was balls deep and straining to get deeper. Her shocked gasp startled him from his single-minded goal to bury himself deeper than he’d ever buried himself in a woman. “Did I hurt you?” he asked urgently even as he began to withdraw. “No. No!” She pulled at him, almost fighting to get him back, arching her hips to hold on to him. He smiled and leaned down to fuse his lips with hers. “Well okay, then.” He surged back into her and closed his eyes as intense, mindbending pleasure shattered through his groin. His balls tightened even as they pounded against her ass. His body wasn’t his own. He had no control. And she urged him on. Taking everything he had to give. Demanding more. Fire coiled low in his balls, clutching the base of his cock with a death grip. It built rapidly, rising like an inevitable tide. He looked down, wanting her with him. He wouldn’t go until she’d found her satisfaction. “Tell me what you need,” he breathed. She feathered a hand over his cheek, a simple touch he felt all the way to his soul. “Just you. Just you.” But she wasn’t as far as he was and he knew it. He paused though it damn near killed him. He had to grit his teeth and breathe harshly through his nose to prevent his orgasm. He reached for her hand and gently guided it downward. “Touch yourself. Show me how you like it.” He shifted his body the slightest bit so she could fit her hand between them. At first she hesitated, her expression a little uncertain—and shy—but then she slid her fingers through the damp folds, her knuckles grazing through the hair at his groin. She gave a restless moan that prompted him to pull out of her and then stroke back, long and liquid. To his surprise her fingers wandered lower and wrapped around the inch of his cock that still remained outside her body. She caressed his length as he eased out of her. Her fingers danced across the latex, and he cursed the condom that lay between her touch and his flesh. He’d never gone bareback with a woman—not even one he was in a relationship with, because caution was too firmly ingrained. But right now he’d sell his soul to be able to get inside her skin to skin. Finally he had to pull at her wrist and return her fingers to her own pleasure because he was a nanosecond from exploding all over her hand. At this point he’d likely blow the condom completely off. “You first,” he rasped. “I want to watch you come apart around me. I want to feel it.” His statement seemed to excite her because she fluttered around him. Her flesh rippled across his cock and was so snug that he never wanted to leave its stranglehold. Seemingly emboldened by his words, she began stroking herself in tight little circles, the backs of her fingers brushing over his sensitive skin. Wanting her closer, wanting deeper, he reached down to cup her buttocks and marveled at how she filled his hands with such delectable, plump flesh. He squeezed and molded her in his palms and then plunged harder, reveling in the sounds that whispered past her lips. Her fingers moved faster and her legs circled his waist. They strained and undulated. They gasped. His heart raced. Faster and faster and lightning sparked. His release was like a fast-burning fuse, sizzling through his balls and up his cock. He cursed under his breath because God, he couldn’t last. She went rigid underneath him and bowed until her back came off the bed. He stroked harder, determined to make it so good for her. The best she’d ever had. His mouth found her neck, and he sucked at the sensitive spot beneath her ear as her cry split the air. He was instantly bathed in liquid fire. Surrounding him, encasing his cock in the sweetest honey. He raised his head and stared straight into her eyes. Straight into the heart of her. His hips jerked forward as if he had no control over the beast that arose within him. It was startling. So primitive that he understood why some men were considered little better than cavemen because at the moment, his only consideration was dragging Lyric off to his cave by the hair and keeping her underneath him for as long as he had strength to make love to her. She withdrew her hand, her body still shivering in the aftermath of her orgasm. When she cupped his face, he turned so he could suck her fingers into his mouth to taste that sweet honey. “Now you,” she whispered. Her words had the same effect his had on her. A violent shiver overtook him and his balls drew up and his release rushed down his cock and exploded with a force that had him gasping. Pain. Pleasure. It all blended together in a myriad of wicked sensation that he never wanted to end. His hips were still jerking spasmodically forward when he finally lowered his body to completely blanket hers. He closed his eyes and rested his forehead on hers for a long moment as his cock twitched and shuddered deep inside her. He knew he couldn’t stay there long and expect the condom to work, but he was loath to retreat from her snug warmth. Their breaths worked hot and hard, colliding with each other as they both gasped to catch up. When he finally felt his head stop spinning, he kissed her and, with a reluctant groan, pulled himself away and rolled to the side to dispose of the condom. When he came back to her, her eyes were glazed—with shock? She seemed at a loss and a little baffled. Vulnerability shone like a beacon, and it riled every one of his protective instincts. She’d hate it if she knew how much he could see right now. The barriers would slam down and the hard edge would return. He climbed into the bed and pulled her into his arms, but she was already stiff and tension radiated from her in waves. In an effort to ease some of her discomfort, he pressed a gentle kiss to her shoulder but he didn’t say a word, knowing that if he did, it would completely shatter what calm remained. Instead he lay there and turned over the matter in his head. He knew it was stupid to have slept with her but at the time he accepted the inevitability of it. She was like a slow-moving drug that had taken hold of his system, insidious and unrelenting. He didn’t have the strength—or the desire—to deny the intense chemistry between them. Even when he’d thought the worst of her, his body had been achingly aware of every part of her. But now he had to admit that what he’d done could and probably would cause problems. He’d been contemptuous of her bodyguards for not doing their job because they couldn’t take their hands off her, and now he was no better. He was here to protect her—in essence to be that same bodyguard—and he could no more keep his hands off her than give up breathing. It posed a serious problem—one that he was at a loss as to how to solve. Lyric hadn’t relaxed and now she stirred and rolled away from him. He felt her retreat long before she’d actually done so physically. It pissed him off but there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. Still, his perverse side roared to the surface and he caught at her arm. “Where are you going?” “Bathroom,” she murmured as she pulled away. She got up from the bed and hurried across the room, her arms shielding her nakedness from him. He wanted to growl at her that there wasn’t a damn thing she could hide. He’d seen and tasted every inch of her. He’d touched and caressed until she’d responded wildly. He sighed as she disappeared, and he wasn’t at all surprised when she didn’t return. He stared up at the ceiling and wondered how much more she’d cut herself off from him now that he’d breached her defenses. CHAPTER 18
I t was a sure sign of just how desperate she was not to be A) alone or B) one-on-one with Connor that she found herself downstairs watching television with men she didn’t even like. Okay, that wasn’t entirely accurate or fair. She didn’t like Kane, the smug, way-too-sure-of-himself “leader” of her security detail. The other guys were probably just fine, but she found them guilty by association, so the result was that the entire lot of them were assholes. And yet here she was watching late-night television, trying to work up the courage to go back upstairs and face her empty room and the silence that yawned like a chasm. She could feel the gazes of her security guys resting on her. One had uttered a greeting when she’d come down an hour earlier, but when she hadn’t responded, they took the hint and hadn’t spoken since. To her annoyance, Kane entered the living room and didn’t seem inclined to ignore her presence like his men had done. He stood a few feet away openly staring at her. “Is there something we can do, Ms. Jones?” “Like you care,” she muttered. “Sulking doesn’t become you.” She curled her lip into a snarl. “I’m not sulking. I want to be left alone.” He lifted an eyebrow. “And yet here you are in the room with my men.” “Got a problem with that?” she asked belligerently. He studied her for a moment. “If I’m to believe Connor when he says you only get more belligerent when you’re threatened or unsure, then I’d say you’re feeling pretty insecure right now.” She bared her teeth. “Fuck off.” There was a glimmer of a smile. She could swear his lips twitched, but when she looked harder, she saw only his cool blue eyes staring back at her like she was boring him. “If there’s nothing you require, we’re going to turn in. Time for the next watch.” “Whatever.” “They won’t be coming inside.” “So? What’s your point?” “My point is, in thirty seconds you’ll be alone down here.” She flushed and curled her fingers into fists so he wouldn’t see her hands shake. How did he know? How could he possibly know? Without a word, she pushed herself from the couch and bolted toward the stairs. Darkness awaited and she made damn sure she turned on every light between the top of the stairs and her bedroom. She was simultaneously relieved and disappointed that Connor had evidently gone to his room. The door between her bedroom and his was closed. And silent. No light crept underneath his door. What was worse? Being one-on-one and vulnerable with him or being alone? It took everything she had not to get on the phone and call in the troops. Right now she wasn’t picky. She could fill her room—hell, she could fill every room in this damn house—with people who’d be only too happy to keep her company and prattle on about everything and nothing. Connor would have a kitten. Kane would be beyond pissed. And it wouldn’t make her feel a damn bit better. Some memories just haunted you no matter how far or how fast you ran. She wasn’t in denial of her circumstances. She knew how fucked-up she was and made no apologies to herself. Self-preservation was a powerful thing, and she knew that what she did kept what little of her sanity she still possessed. Being alone freaked her out. She couldn’t even think about it without feeling the suffocating darkness close in around her. It brought back the feeling of utter helplessness. Guilt. Despair. The fact that she’d stood by and watched her mother die and never uttered a word. Too scared to cry out. To say stop. To run for help. To scream for help. She’d known that any movement, any sound, would thrust her back into a madman’s attention. And she’d suffered his attentions for far too long. She closed her eyes and felt the familiar sting of tears. Her head ached from holding so much back, from the constant fight to keep her carefully constructed walls from crumbling. “Oh, Mama, I’m such a mess,” she whispered. She hadn’t spoken to her mother in a long time. There were days she still battled her rage and, with it, the terrible guilt for feeling so angry with a mother she’d adored. She stood in the middle of her room, surrounded by... nothing. Silence. Stillness. “I’m so tired of this,” she whispered. Panic clawed at her throat at the idea of being here alone. The house. The room. It was all unfamiliar to her. These weren’t her things. No matter how much of a badass Kane professed to be, he couldn’t keep her safe from her dreams. He couldn’t keep her safe from her memories. Connor. She stared at their adjoining door and was suddenly filled with such powerful longing that her throat ached and swelled. For several long, wonderful moments she’d found exquisite peace in his arms. He’d made her forget about every bad thing that had ever happened to her. And she’d taken off like a scared rabbit. He must think she was either crazy as a loon or a first-class bitch. Maybe both. She took a hesitant step toward his door and then another until she was mere inches away. She laid her palm over the wood and held her breath, listening for any sound from the other side. It took several minutes to work up the courage to turn the knob. She was half-afraid it would be locked. Part of her hoped that it would be. The knob turned and she pushed the door open wide enough that she could slide in. Light poured from her room into his and she could see him lying on the bed, the sheet in a tangle around his hips. For a moment she simply stared, drawn to his chiseled features. His body was beautiful. Lean and muscled. His brow was creased as if he was thinking over an important matter in his sleep. At his side, his fingers were curled into a tight fist. Now that she was here, she had no idea what to do. She felt like a complete idiot, but the idea of turning around and going back to her empty room filled her with panic. She closed the door behind her, careful not to make a sound. She waited until her vision adjusted to the darkness of the room and then she tiptoed over to the love seat by the window. She rarely slept for long periods of time. She could catch a few hours on the couch and be up and out of here before Connor ever woke up. He didn’t even have to know she was ever here. Feeling marginally better about her panic episode, she eased onto the couch and positioned a cushion under her cheek. A blanket would be nice, but she wasn’t going to tempt fate by going back for one. She stared over at Connor as she settled and held back a snort. Some security guy he made. She stifled a yawn and closed her eyes. He hadn’t even realized someone had come into his room. Connor smiled in the darkness as he watched moonlight spill over Lyric’s face. She moved once after she closed her eyes and then went still as she slid into sleep. She’d bolted but now she was back, and from all appearances she had no desire for him to know it. Patiently he waited, watching as she slept. When he was satisfied that she was down for the count, he slipped from the bed and pulled the comforter with him. He draped the blanket over her and gently tucked the ends around her shoulders. “Good night, Lyric,” he whispered. Then he smiled and crawled back into bed. CHAPTER 19
L yric’s cell phone had rung nonstop since seven that morning. Connor didn’t know how the hell it hadn’t woken her up yet. Even from the next room, the peal was loud and obnoxious. But she was still curled up on his love seat, covers pulled up to her nose. She hadn’t so much as stirred since Connor had risen to shower. For the longest time he’d simply lain in bed watching the soft rise and fall of her chest. Knowing how little she’d slept in the past days, he was careful not to awaken her. He moved silently around his room, and once he was dressed, he slipped out of the bedroom. He picked up the annoying cell phone from the nightstand beside her bed—the bed where he’d made love to her just hours before—and pocketed it after seeing there were fourteen missed calls and half as many voice mails. He’d let her sleep as long as she would. She’d mentioned that she had a lot to do today but he figured she’d manage better with several hours of sleep in her system. He was halfway down the stairs when his cell phone went off. He sighed when he saw it was Phillip Armstrong. “Connor Malone,” he said when he put the phone to his ear. He continued toward the kitchen, where already he could smell food cooking. “Where the hell is Lyric?” Phillip demanded. “Is everything okay there?” “Yeah, fine. She’s asleep.” There was a brief hesitation and Connor thought he heard Phillip sigh in relief. “Good. She needs to rest. She’s way too high-strung and she goes without sleep for too long at a time. Just make sure she makes her two o’clock at Reliant Stadium. She has to meet with the stage crew and sign off on the details for her performance. I don’t like that she’s not using her band, but she was determined to give them a break. Hell, I think she’s on some weird mission to prove something by taking on so much herself for these two weeks. But who she’s trying to prove something to—her or everyone else—I’m not sure.” “There’s plenty of time for her to make her two o’clock meeting.” “Be expecting a call from Paul. I gave him your number because he was having a kitten over Lyric not answering her phone.” Connor bit back a curse. Just what he needed. Her asshole manager screaming in his ear. But better his than Lyric’s. It pissed him off the way her manager treated her, and Connor had only met the man once. On cue, the line beeped and Connor pulled the phone away to see unknown caller flash across his screen. “That’s probably him now,” he said as he put the phone back to his ear. “I’ll have Lyric where she needs to be. Don’t worry.” He punched the button to switch calls. “Connor Malone.” “Mr. Malone, this is Paul Woodrow. I’ll be flying into Houston at noon, and I’ll expect to be picked up at the airport so I can meet Lyric at Reliant Stadium at two.” His snappish tone flew all over Connor. It briefly occurred to him that he should probably be conciliatory. Briefly. But he remembered Phillip’s advisory that Connor worked for him, not Paul. It was enough for Connor to speak his mind. “Want in one hand and shit in the other. See which gets fuller faster.” “What? What the hell does that mean? Where is Lyric? Why isn’t she answering her phone?” “She’s indisposed and unable to take your call. I’m so sorry. I’ll have her return your call later. If I remember.” Paul gave a very unmanly shriek of outrage that made Connor cringe. If he wasn’t enjoying himself so much, he’d hang up the phone in mid-scream. “I’ll have your balls,” Paul screeched. “You do the job you were hired to do, and you better get Lyric on the damn phone. I’m tired of her flighty, scatterbrained bullshit. She’d better show up on time or it’s going to be your ass in the fire. And there had better be a car to pick me up at the airport!” “Unless you arrange it, I highly doubt there’ll be one,” Connor said with barely controlled amusement. “Nice talking to you. Have a good day, now.” Connor blew out his breath as he shoved the phone back into his pocket. This was the most half-assed “business” he’d ever witnessed. The guy in charge of Lyric’s career was a moron and he didn’t give a shit about her. Or what was best for her. The kitchen was alive with activity. Kane and his men were seated at the table eating a buffet of eggs, bacon, biscuits and bagels. The chef and his two assistants were busy opening and shutting oven doors as the chef barked orders to the woman manning the stove. “Mr. Malone, what arrangements would you like for Ms. Jones’s breakfast?” the chef asked when he caught sight of Connor. Connor shrugged. “She’s still sleeping.” The chef frowned. “Will she be taking breakfast in bed or should I keep her food on the warmer for when she comes down?” How the hell would he know? He’d never been around such a hyper operation. He was reminded of a bunch of chickens running around with their heads cut off. If this was the way Lyric lived, rushing from one poorly planned event to the next, it was little wonder she looked like she was on the verge of breaking. Hell, he’d already be a permanent resident of the funny farm. “Fix her a tray. I’ll bring it up to her.” The chef nodded and then turned to bark another series of orders. Seriously, did this guy not realize he was just cooking for one woman? You’d think he was making meals for the president and his entire Cabinet. A few minutes later, Connor was presented a tray that looked like something off of one of those home and garden television shows Faith was forever watching. It was hard to tell what was actual food and what was simply presentation. He snagged a cupcake and stuck it under one of the silver covers on the tray and headed for the stairs. Lyric had plenty of time to make her appointment and he was determined not to rush her. When did the woman ever get a moment to just be? If he were hounded as mercilessly as she was, he’d be in a permanent bad mood. More and more he was beginning to understand what made her tick, and he’d already come to the conclusion that everything around her sucked balls. He nudged his door open with his foot to see her still asleep on the couch. Quietly he set the tray down on the coffee table and pulled it over to the sofa. “Lyric,” he said in a low voice. “Wake up. I brought you breakfast.” She stirred and her eyelids fluttered open. Sleepy blue eyes clouded with faint confusion stared back at him. Then she glanced down and around at her surroundings. Consternation creased her brow and her lips pinched together in a bow. “What time is it?” He checked his watch. “Almost ten.” She sat straight up, her eyes wide. “Oh shit. Shit!” She started to toss aside the covers and bolt from the couch but he put a gentle hand on her shoulder and pushed her back down. “You’ve got plenty of time. Eat first.” She glanced at the tray, then back up at him. “I have so much stuff to do today. My manager is flying in. I should probably be there to meet him. Then we have to go over to the stadium and meet with their sound crew.” Connor shook his head. “No way you’re going into a crowded airport. He’s a big boy. He can get a car and take himself over to the stadium. You don’t have to be there until two, which means we won’t need to leave until one fifteen. Which gives you three hours to relax, eat and get your bearings.” She looked momentarily struck dumb, as if it honestly hadn’t occurred to her that she didn’t have to be running around freaking out every single minute. Then she smiled. Her eyes twinkled and lit up and it struck him how truly beautiful she was. Behind the façade. Behind all the posing, the bitchy exterior, the hard-ass act. She was a beautiful, sensitive woman and he was in some deep shit. “You know what? You’re right. I pay people to handle details. Let them do their job. My job is to show up at two, right?” He took off the remaining covers and she sighed in appreciation at the pancakes, bacon, eggs and grits. There was also fruit, toast and milk and juice. “I’m never going to eat all this,” she said, though she eyed it like she’d love to try. “Have you eaten?” He shook his head. She sat up and pulled her feet from the end of the couch. Then she patted the space beside her. “Come eat, then. There’s enough to feed the entire security team.” He sat next to her but was careful to keep a little distance between them. Despite her seeming ease, he could sense her uncertainty. She kept glancing over at him. Just little nervous peeks as if expecting him to bring up the fact she’d slept the entire night in his room after she’d bolted out of bed. He was content to pretend it hadn’t happened. For now. The problem was, she looked so damn cute and snuggly that what he really wanted to do was pull her down to the couch and make love to her all over again. But he wouldn’t stop there. It really made him uncomfortable that beyond making love to her, he had a primitive, chest-thumping, mouthsnarling urge to tie her to his bed and not let her out of his sight for the next year or so. Yeah, he’d keep that little tidbit to himself. Nothing like making her stalker the more desirable option here. He was losing his mind—had already lost his mind. Lyric was wrong for him on every conceivable level, but she just did it for him. Now he couldn’t even give Nathan shit about how head over ass he’d fallen for his wife. The man was done from the moment he’d laid eyes on Julie. In less than two weeks, Lyric Jones would move on, go back on tour, be the fantasy of every boy and man, and Connor would go back to his job and spend his nights reliving the time he’d held her in his arms as she came apart. Yep, his fascination with her didn’t make a whole lot of goddamn sense in that light. “This is really good,” Lyric said around a mouthful. “You should eat.” Connor stared down at the plate she’d fixed for him and realized he’d yet to take a bite. He wasn’t hungry for food. He was hungry for the petite blue-haired vixen sitting next to him. To cover the awkwardness between them, he picked up his fork and plate and began eating, though he’d be hard-pressed to tell what exactly he ate. For the first time in his life, the thought of food didn’t appeal. And if that wasn’t a huge sign that he was fucked, he didn’t know what was. After a while, Lyric laid her fork down and leaned back into the couch. She hugged the blanket to her chest and sighed as her head plopped against the cushion. “Full?” he asked as he set aside his own plate. “Mmmm. Yummy.” “I hope not too full,” he said. She turned, her stare questioning. He grinned. “I have a surprise. I think you’ll like it.” He reached for the saucer and lifted the cover off to reveal the perfectly iced cupcake. Her eyes lit up and a broad smile curved her lips. He dipped his finger along the outside edge to capture some of the icing, and then he held it out to Lyric. He smeared just a bit on her soft lips and her tongue immediately came out to lick the sweetness away. He returned to the cupcake, dipped more of the icing and then smudged a little on her cheek. Her eyes widened in surprise but then half closed to a sleepy, drugged state of awareness when he leaned in to nibble at her frosting-covered skin. He swept his tongue over the spot and then kissed her cheekbone until all the frosting was gone. “You’re sweeter than the icing,” he murmured. She reached over without breaking their gazes, dipped her finger through the cupcake and then spread the sweetness over his lips. A moment later, she swooped forward and captured his mouth against hers. The warmth of her tongue rasped over his lips, tasting, licking away the sugary treat. He could taste the frosting on her lips as she nibbled at his. To his surprise, she rose over him and leaned her weight into his body so that he was forced back against the couch. She straddled his lap and dug her knees into the cushions on either side of him. “Since you pointed out that there’s no reason for me to be in a hurry this morning, I now have plenty of time for dessert,” she murmured. She fit his hands like her ass was fashioned just for him. He cupped and squeezed through the thin material of her pajama bottoms. Then he pulled her forward just enough that the bulge in the crotch of his jeans was straining up against her pussy. “Take your shirt off,” he rasped out. “And give me that damn cupcake.” She laughed and turned, pulling at her shirt with one hand, reaching back for the cupcake with the other. He ended up helping her, or maybe he was just too impatient. The top came over her head and he tossed it across the room. She held the cupcake up, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she watched him. He swiped at the frosting, careful to leave plenty still on the cupcake, because damn, his mind was alive with the possibilities. He decorated one puckered nipple with the sweet buttercream icing until the tip was white. His mouth watered but he forced himself to lavish the same attention on her other breast. She fidgeted and sighed, strained up, but he pulled her back down onto his lap. Her breasts bobbed in front of him like two delectable treats, and he never, ever turned down sugar. He licked delicately up the curve of her breast, anticipating the point where he reached her straining nipple. She tensed all over and braced her hands on his shoulders. Her fingers dug into his skin as he flicked his tongue over the tip. His tongue barely brushed across the sensitive peak, and each time he got only a hint of the sweet. “Connor!” she gasped. “You’re killing me here.” One corner of his mouth lifted. “I think that’s the point.” She slid one hand up the column of his neck, around to his nape and then into his hair. Her fingers twisted and she pulled impatiently at his head, guiding him back to her breast. He lapped one more time and then pulled the nipple hard between his teeth, sucking avidly at the frosting. He held her nipple captive and flicked his tongue repeatedly over the point until she twisted and squirmed damn near off his lap. He loved how demanding she was. Her fingers dug into his head. She wasn’t afraid to show him what she wanted or needed. He pulled away and her nipple gleamed wet and clean of the frosting. It was rigid, so hard and pointed that he couldn’t resist swiping his tongue over it again. She sighed and flexed her fingers over his scalp. His erection pushed upward, cradled by the juncture of her legs. It frustrated him that there were so many barriers between them. As if sensing his irritation, she rose up on her knees and began sliding her bottoms down. She backed off the couch and stood before him as she let the material fall down her legs. He smiled at the fact that one nipple was still covered with frosting. He licked his lips and she smiled back just before she palmed her breast, cupping it and pushing it upward. Then she leaned down until her nipple was a breath away from his mouth. She held it just so, offering it to his mouth. He fastened his lips greedily around it, sucking and nibbling as if he were starved. Her breathing ratcheted up and she trembled from head to toe as he pulled strongly with his mouth. She pulled abruptly away, her cheeks flushed, her chest rising and falling rapidly. Then she let her gaze drift down his body to the bulge between his legs. A gleam entered her eyes. One that made him twitchy with anticipation. It was the look of a woman with a plan. A very evil, delicious plan. He held his breath as she got down on her knees and settled herself between his legs. Then she reached for his fly and pulled at the snaps. The zipper rasped downward and her soft hand gently delved within, finding his cock. When she reached for the cupcake, he damn near lost his mind. With exacting precision she trailed a finger through the sticky confection and then proceeded to smooth it over his straining erection. His breaths came out in tortured huffs. He was sure he was going to hyperventilate. She took her time, smearing the frosting up and down his length until he was completely coated. Then she wrested his jeans down around his hips and there he sat, his cock jutting upward like a frosted Popsicle. If he wasn’t dying of anticipation, he’d have to laugh at the fact he had a frosted dick. And then she leaned over and touched the tip of her tongue to the swollen head. His cock twitched in reaction and swung away from her. It was all he could do not to grab it and guide it back because, Lord have mercy, he wanted her mouth around him. She took care of the matter for him. She followed with her mouth and sucked the head between her lips. She teased him with her tongue, circling and lapping at the tip. Like she had done, he slid his hand around to the back of her head and his fingers tangled in her hair. Carefully she lowered her mouth, taking more of him as she licked every bit of the frosting from his skin. She exerted pressure and hollowed her cheeks as she slid up his cock. The head fell free of her lips with a pop and she turned her gaze up to him, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “You know, more women wouldn’t mind giving blow jobs if we could all have buttercream-flavored dicks.” He laughed. What else could he do? She was so damn irreverent. “Honey, if you’ll keep your mouth wrapped around my cock, I’ll buy you an entire tub of frosting.” She leaned down and dragged her tongue up the back of his erection, taking more frosting with her. Then she swallowed him up and took him deep until he butted against the back of her throat. She swallowed again, and the softness of her mouth convulsed around his dick. He shuddered uncontrollably and felt semen leak from the tip. She slowly backed away but held him in her hand, caressing up and down as she licked her lips. “Mmmm, now, there’s an interesting flavor,” she purred. “I’ll admit, the taste of cum has never impressed me. But now? Yum.” His entire body tightened. Her crudeness only turned him on all the more. He reached for the back of her neck again and forced himself back into her mouth. He arched his hips and closed his eyes as her heat surrounded him. It registered in the back of his mind that he was probably being an ass. He was pretty much assuming that she’d allow him to come in her mouth. Hell, her mouth? He wanted to come down her throat. He wanted to thrust as deep as she’d allow and come like he’d never come. She never registered a complaint. She allowed him to hold her head, though he was careful to make sure she wouldn’t wear his fingerprints afterward. With every thrust, she seemed to open wider and allow him to go as deep as he could. “Oh Christ, Lyric,” he strained out. “If this isn’t what you want, tell me now. I’m so damn close.” There. He’d managed to have some semblance of consideration, though he was praying hard she stayed right where she was. She paused, and for one awful moment he thought she was going to stop. He went completely still as he waited. She merely glided over his hardness, trailing her tongue along the underside of his cock where he was most sensitive. When the head of his dick rested on her bottom lip, she licked lightly at the seam and glanced up at him with smoky, sultry eyes. She sent him a lazy smile and then she took him hard and deep. He nearly bolted off the couch. She sucked back and forth, her hand working the base of his cock in perfect rhythm with her mouth. Lightning gathered in his balls and streaked upward with such force that his vision blurred. His release tore through him, painful and relentless in intensity. Semen shot from his cock and filled her mouth, bathing him in its sticky warmth. Still, she didn’t waver. She sucked and swallowed and all the while kept that silky, sweet mouth closed around his pulsing erection. On and on, in a seemingly unending orgasm. He was still jerking spasmodically when the last of his release spurted into her mouth. She released his cock and climbed back on top of him, her body quivering and shaking as she straddled him. His cock butted into her soft belly. She gripped his head and bent to nip at his neck. She was everywhere, twisting restlessly as she sucked and bit at the column of his neck. She was close to her own orgasm and all from sucking him off. It stunned him and inflated his male ego about ten more pounds. Not willing to let her remain unfulfilled, he slid his fingers between them, down into the softness of her folds. She was hot and damp, slick with her arousal. As soon as he touched her clit, she arched forward, her back bowing so that her breasts were shoved into his face. Damn if that didn’t make him one happy man. He latched on to her nipple and suckled as he stroked her. Her heat bathed his fingers. He pressed in with his thumb and rotated in a tight circle as his middle finger slid inside her. She encased him in liquid velvet. She was so satiny soft and smooth. He added another finger, stretching her as his thumb continued its relentless seduction. A whimper tore from her throat and she tightened in his arms. So sweet and soft. Curvy and warm. He sighed his own contentment as he moved to her other breast and inhaled her scent. Her fingers dug into his shoulders. Her cry came out as an ache in the stillness of the room. She trembled so violently as her orgasm crashed around her that she pitched forward against him. He caught her with his free arm and held her close as he continued to caress her swollen, damp flesh. Her chest pushed against his as she struggled for breath. He buried his face in her neck and kissed softly over her pulse point. “You undo me,” he admitted softly. She laughed but it came out quivery soft and delicate. “That’s my line.” He nuzzled her neck again and pressed kisses below her ear. Gradually he eased his hand from between her legs and pulled her even closer to him so that she straddled him again and her body was pressed as close to him as he could get her. “Do you doubt how beautiful you are to me?” he asked quietly. She pushed away just enough that she could stare into his eyes. What he saw in hers knotted his chest and made his throat ache. There was wonder. Amazement and a little confusion. As if she truly couldn’t comprehend why he thought her so damn beautiful. “Not anymore,” she said in a whisper. “I don’t understand it, but when I look at you, I see it. I don’t know what to do about it, but you’ve made me believe it.” He smiled then and trailed a finger down a strand of her hair to her cheek. Then he pushed it up and over her ear. “You don’t have to do anything. I just want you to see you the way I see you.” She leaned forward and pressed her forehead to his. Her hands slid up his neck and her thumbs brushed over his jawline. He shivered at that tiny gesture. It was baffling what something so simple as her touch did to him. “I wish everyone could see me the way you see me.” There was pain and regret in her statement. It said so much more than just the simple words. There was a wealth of meaning, and, not for the first time, he realized that there was so much more to the woman than what the public saw. Was it their fault entirely for swallowing what they were spoon-fed by the media and by Lyric herself? No, but right now he could see the vulnerability she tried so hard to hide from the world. She wore indifference like a shield. She needed that protection. She was a complicated, complex woman who had so many pieces that it was nearly impossible to put them all together. He kissed her, just a simple touch of his lips, more a comforting gesture than one designed to inspire lust. And he simply held her while she regained her bearings and enjoyed the feel of her in his arms. CHAPTER 20
