Janelle Denison - Wilde Thing

"I want you," he went on, his possessive tone singeing straight to her soul, blurring the lines between fantasy and reality for her. "I want you bad, and I'll do whatever it takes to have you. No more phone fantasies. I want the real thing. I want to feel your skin against mine, smell your scent, and taste your desire."

Her head spun, her body caught fire, and her mind chanted, Yes, yes, yes!

"I want to take you every way you'll let me." His voice was raw and primal and sounded just as restless as she felt. "Do you want that, too?"

"Yes," she breathed. She was shamelessly turned on, her skin hot and prickly, her sex aching. She was his for the taking, any way he desired.

"Good." He sounded pleased, with an edge of arrogance thrown in for good measure. "Then see what you can do about making it happen."

"I will," she promised.

They'd put their plan into motion, both of them emphasizing their interest in each other. Now they just had to wait and see if Antonio took the bait.

Unbridled excitement hummed in the air as their eyes locked and held from across the dimly lit room, direct and blatantly sexual. Focused and intent. Two strangers, instantly attracted to each other, on the brink of becoming intimate. There was no denying what they both desired-a sizzling, carnal encounter, with pleasure and satisfaction being the primary goal.

He was tall and leanly muscled, his hair dark and tousled around his head. His devastatingly blue eyes glittered with potent male heat as he offered up a silent challenge to play the game they'd instigated on the phone less than half an hour ago. From his chiseled jaw to his bedroom eyes to the day's stubble on his cheeks, he epitomized the kind of bad boy she was drawn to. Virile and seductive and a little bit on the dangerous side, his quiet, rock-solid confidence increased his appeal, making Liz excruciatingly aware of his prowess-and his wicked intent.

She welcomed the rush of adrenaline spiking through her veins. He moved closer, his gait slow and predatory as he closed the distance between them, and Liz's heart pumped hard in her chest in thrilling anticipation of the fantasy unfolding into reality.

They were in her small living room, which shared space with her equally small dinette set, but her vivid imagination put them in a more exotic locale, somewhere far away from her own responsible, sensible life.

He came to a stop directly in front of her, so close she could feel the heat of his body through his clothes, could inhale how deliciously male he smelled-a heady combination of heat and forbidden passion. His warm breath ruffled the wisps of hair along the side of her face, and pure, undisguised sexual energy crackled between them, a rare and irresistible chemistry that intensified with each moment that passed.

Her body softened, liquified, automatically readying itself for his possession. No words were spoken-none were needed- as she lifted a hand and curled her fingers around the nape of his neck. She pulled his lips to hers and kissed him deeply, avidly. His mouth was equally hot and eager, his tongue bold and greedy, consuming her with rich, unadulterated pleasure.

They pulled back, just long enough for him to quickly strip off his T-shirt and yank hers off, too. Their mouths met again, lips open, teeth nipping and nibbling, tongues touching, tangling. Her hands swept over the broad expanse of his chest, and she plied his nipples with her thumbs, then strummed her fingers downward to his taut belly. With a groan, he smoothed his palms along her shoulders and pushed her bra straps down her arms. They caught in the crooks of her elbows, and he left them there but didn't waste any time in pulling down the sheer, lacy cups so he could fill his hands with her breasts and roll her nipples back and forth between his fingertips.

She felt out of control, and she luxuriated in the untamed sensation along with the freedom to do things with and to this man that she'd never explored with another lover before. Like indulging in this stranger fantasy and luxuriating in mindless, unrestrained sex for the pure, intoxicating pleasure of it.

But ultimately Steve was a man she trusted with her body, and more. A man who made her feel amazingly feminine and

lavishly seductive-as if she were made specifically for him, in every way. And for as long as their affair lasted, she was his, in every way.

Breathing hard and aching for that fast, frenzied joining the fantasy inspired, she blindly reached for his belt buckle and released the leather strap, then unfastened the top button and pulled the zipper down over his burgeoning erection. Grabbing the waistband of his jeans and briefs, she shoved both down to his thighs. His iron-hard shaft sprang free, and she encircled him with her fingers and stroked his length, used her thumb to smear the bead of pre-come that had gathered on the head of his penis.

His entire body jerked in response. He slanted his mouth across hers again with a rough growl, his tongue thrusting deep as he reached beneath the miniskirt she'd worn to work and pulled her panties down to her thighs. From there the scrap of fabric dropped to her ankles, and she kicked it aside and out of the way.

Hot, callused hands skimmed up her thighs, and long, seeking fingers delved into the crease between her legs. She was already wet, already excruciatingly aroused, drunk on passion and the excitement of the forbidden. He found her clit with his thumb and strummed across that knot of nerves in a sleek caress. All it took was that one electrifying touch, and she came in a fast, feverish climax that left her panting and gasping for breath.

He wrenched his mouth from hers and grabbed one of the dinette chairs from behind him. He sat down, quickly dug a condom from the pocket of his pants-still tangled around his knees-and sheathed himself. Then he was tugging her toward him, forcing her legs wide open on either side of his thighs. Grasping her waist, he guided her to sit astride his lap, and his cock slid along her slick flesh and unerringly found the entrance to her body.

He pulled her hips down at the same time he bucked upward, sinking into her tight heat and embedding himself to the hilt. She inhaled sharply at the abrupt invasion, and he groaned, long and low. He rocked her pelvis against his, his body tense and quivering. She grabbed on to his shoulders, easily picked up the rhythm he set, and rode him with utter abandon.

The material of her skirt floated around them, covering where they joined, which added to the eroticism of their tryst. His hand roamed up her spine, and his fingers fluttered along the nape of her neck, then wrapped the strands of her hair in his fist. He pulled her head back with that one hand and used the other to splay against the middle of her back, forcing her body to arch into him and her breasts to rub against his chest.

Their bodies were locked tight, and she continued to ride him as he scattered soft, damp, biting kisses along her throat and over the upper slopes of her straining breasts. He circled his tongue around one rigid nipple, blew a hot stream of breath across the peak, then did the same to the other. He lapped at her slowly, licked the taut tips teasingly, and nibbled until the madness was too much to bear. Grabbing a handful of hair from the back of his head, she pressed his parted lips to one aching, tingling crest in silent demand, and he obeyed, taking as much of her breast as he could inside the wet, velvety warmth of his mouth.

He sucked, and she felt that tugging, pulling sensation all the way down to her sex. She couldn't stop the whimper of need that slipped from her lips, couldn't hold back the convulsions that started deep inside where Steve filled her, full and throbbing. She moved on him, harder, faster, and came undone as a torrent of exquisite sensation flooded her limbs and sent her careening into an intense and fiery orgasm.

He released a harsh groan of surrender then and gripped her hips, rocking her in time to each frantic upward surge of his thick shaft within her. She wrapped her arms around him, holding him close as his own body shuddered in and around hers in long, deep, powerful spasms.

When it was over, they melted into each other, their arms and legs entwined, both of them too wiped out to move. Chest to chest, the wild beating of their hearts was all Liz could feel, and in that seemingly endless stretch of time, that profound connection between them was all that mattered to her.

***

Steve rummaged through Liz's kitchen cupboards for a late-night snack while she'd slipped down the hall to take a quick shower and change into something more comfortable. He'd promised her he'd stick around until she returned, and the truth of the matter was that he didn't want to leave. And because there was nothing left for them to discuss business-wise when they both knew the ball was now in Antonio's court, it made the issue of his staying beyond their midnight tryst a personal one.

He frowned at that realization as he snagged a peanut butter granola bar from the cupboard, but couldn't deny the truth. Beyond the incredible, mind-blowing sex they shared and the way they connected on a physical level, he enjoyed being with Liz as a woman who matched him intellectually, a person he enjoyed spending time with, and an intimate lover he couldn't get enough of. The three facets were intrinsically joined, in a way that fulfilled an emptiness within him he hadn't even known existed until she'd come along and filled that vast solitude with her exuberant presence, her fortitude, and even her moments of vulnerability.

His heart thumped hard in his chest, and he immediately dismissed the notion that popped into his head. He was not falling for Liz. Yes, he enjoyed being with her. Yes, he cared for her. Yes, she was fun and sexy and turned him on like no other woman ever had, but there was no way in hell he was going to fall in love with her.