More than the Game by Jenni Bara
20
@USWeekly:Elizabeth and @HotShotDemoda beaching on his private island—who knows what sort of shenanigans they might get into when they’re finally, truly, all alone.
Marc gently laid her back on the king-size bed, making sure her dress lifted to leave him a view of the white lace panties. His gaze tumbled her stomach. Her breath caught, and he reached for one of her legs.
“I love lace, and seeing it on you, I feel like a kid on Christmas about to open the best present ever.” His guttural voice pulsed through her.
He lifted her leg straight into the air and let his eyes run from the tip of her shoe back to her panties. Liquid heat shot straight to her center under his intense stare.
“I know you have this thing about your legs,” Marc said as he kissed her ankle, his hot lips gliding along her calf while he unhooked the slingback of her shoe. He let it fall with a thunk to the floor. “But really, get over it, because they’re fantastic.”
His mouth pressed against the soft skin behind her knee, and she quivered. His smile was evil when he lowered her right leg and turned his attention to the left.
“And when you put them in shoes like these”—he unhooked her other shoe—“it makes it hard for a man to think about anything but getting them wrapped around him. In the car on the way to the restaurant, all through dinner, on the way home—all I could think about was your bare legs wrapped tight around my hips.”
She swallowed a moan as he pressed his lips against her inner thigh, moving teasingly close to the part of her demanding his attention. But instead of pressing into her center, he continued his torture. He let her leg fall gently back to the bed, trailing his hands along her hips. He kissed her lightly under her belly button, and she arched against him.
He looked up and chuckled. “That answers my other question,” he said, lifting eyes full of dark desire up to her face.
“What. Other. Question.” She forced the words out, and then swallowed. Marc moved so his face was even with hers and his hand rested on her breast. His thumb flicked slowly back and forth over her hard nipple. The wanting built, warming her entire body.
“If there was anything else under this dress.” He dropped his head and sucked through the cotton fabric. She arched against him, and he slipped his hand up to untie the strap of her dress. He pulled her to her feet and let the dress fall in a heap to the floor.
She stood there in nothing but her white lace panties, while he was fully dressed, looking entirely too pleased with himself.
Slowly she moved to undo the buttons on his shirt, pushing it off. He tossed it quickly away while she went straight for his belt, ridding him of it. He tried to pull her back into his arms. But she shook her head with a smile and pushed him back onto the bed.
“It’s my turn. Keep your hands above your head where I can see them.” He obeyed, and she sat, straddling his hips. “I expect you to keep them there, no matter what.”
“Do you now?” he asked, but his grin faded as she settled her heat against his.
The moonlight streamed in through the bedroom window, catching the need in his eyes when she met them with hers. The air felt heavy with their matching desire as her fingers trailed lightly through the dark curls that started on his chest and circled around his belly button before heading further down. Her fingertips skimmed the smooth, tight muscles and she leaned forward, kissing the pulse of his neck, his muscular chest, his taut shoulders. His breaths became ragged. When she looked up, his eyes were closed, his lips tight. His pulse beat hard, but he hadn’t moved his hands.
She undid the button and zipper of his pants before she moved. She didn’t pull them off, but took them down just enough to lean over and slowly kiss him through the white Sideline boxer briefs. He groaned as she let her tongue make a quick circle.
And suddenly, she was no longer on top; she found herself under him, his weight pressing her firmly into the mattress.
“You’re done,” he croaked, gazing at her through half-lidded eyes clouded by the raw need she had unleashed.
His lips silenced her, and he shifted to give his hand access to her. He ran his fingers softly over the sheer lace of her panties, and the familiar throb of wanting built, burning stronger and more deeply than ever before. The barrier against his fingers was driving her crazy as she pressed against his hand. She thrust her hips, wanting more. Slowly he slid under the lace, teasing her before he pushed them down.
Her thighs fell apart, giving his fingers room to play with the patch of curls before finally touching her where she most wanted him. He knew his way around a woman’s body. His hand was magic, and she rocked against it. As he slipped his finger inside her, his thumb continued its circular motion, driving her up. The circles became stronger again and her senses swirled; the pressure inside her was growing, spinning, demanding. She tensed. White-hot bolts of desire shot through her.
She looked up into his eyes.
“Come for me,” he whispered.
And with that, she did. Pleasure racked her senses. He didn’t stop, continuing to pull every pulse from her until she finally came back to herself.
“I need to be inside you,” he groaned.
He shed the rest of his clothes, and opened the nightstand drawer.
“A sign of my respect,” Marc said, handing her a condom, and she smiled. She took his fully aroused length in her hand, letting her thumb circle the tip as he hissed in a breath. Her hand ran down the thick cord before giving him a small squeeze, then slowly rolled the condom in place. She lingered on the thick long shaft, and he shuddered. “Careful or it’ll be over before it starts,” Marc choked, and used his own hands to pull her away.
He nudged her legs apart and moved over her. She pressed her face into his neck at the pressure of his entrance, and then with one hard thrust, he filled her.
“Yes, Marc, more,” she moaned.
“Christ.” The mixture of the prayer and curse vibrated in her ear. “You feel…” He swallowed. “G-o-d.” The word dragged out, his voice humming pleasure. “You’re so tight,” he panted. He dropped his head into the crook of her neck and took a deep breath. “This is what heaven must feel like.”
He moved slowly at first, letting her body adjust to his size, but need soon took the reins as control slipped. Her name was a whisper in the dark, his name a moan leaving her lips. He moved to thrust himself more deeply, taking care to roll his hips over the sensitive bundle of nerves that would help carry her over the edge again. Her hips rocked in time with his. The frantic rhythm was driving her up again. Too soon, she was flying. This time he found his release along with her, and collapsed on top of her, groaning her name.
He didn’t move; neither did she. She liked the feel of his weight as he stayed buried deep inside, listening to the quiet of the night.
She was in trouble. Marc had told her he would give her the best sex of her life. She no longer doubted that, but she did doubt her ability to not end up in over her head by the time the six weeks was over. Never in her life had she tried to separate sex from love, until tonight—and honestly, she had thought it would be easier.
He was everything she wanted to avoid. She craved a quiet life, not one in the fast lane. He loved the fast lane, and even if he had made tonight about them, that wasn’t his life. It was just one night. Still, from the moment she’d stood and watched him playing baseball with her son, she had slowly let him chip away at her resistance. And it needed to stop. She could and would enjoy him; sex with Marc was fabulous. But that would be it. She wouldn’t let herself fall in love.
Her fingers trailed along the bumps of his spine until finally he rolled off her. He looked down at her with the strangest expression and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
“Don’t you move.” It was an order, but there was tenderness in his voice. He leaned down, kissed her softly, and then headed for the bathroom.
He swaggered out of the room, completely naked and not even a tiny bit embarrassed by it. Although she teased him about his overconfidence, she admired it too. Of course, he had every reason to be confident: He was beautiful. His body was on billboards. The only imperfection was the scar that marred his shoulder, giving him a dangerously sexy look.
Beth pulled a pillow from behind her and hugged it to her chest.
As soon as Marc reappeared, he frowned. “You know I’ve been waiting weeks for this, and now I want to enjoy the view.” He grabbed the pillow and tossed it away.
“I hate to be the one to break it to you, but the world doesn’t revolve around what Marc Demoda wants,” Beth replied and grabbed another pillow. Marc smirked, and the bed sagged as he lowered himself down.
“And I hate to break it to you, especially when you’re so cute, but,” Marc said, catching her wrist and pulling it over her head as the pillow fell to the side, “there are advantages to being significantly bigger.” He pushed her back against the pillows and rested his weight on the arm holding her wrist.
“Cheater,” Beth teased, and Marc chuckled. She attempted to wiggle away, but he reached his free hand down to her legs and pinned them in place. With that, she put no more effort into moving.
Marc stared down at her, then lifted his hand from her legs to cup her cheek.
“You did it again,” Marc whispered.
“Did what?” She hadn’t done anything.
“Took my breath away.”
Beth smiled. “I’ve only just begun.”
With one arm hooked under his head, Marc lay in bed looking down at the woman asleep on his shoulder. The wild curls he’d had his hands in not so long ago splayed across his chest, along with her hand. His arm had fallen asleep at about the same time Beth had, but he wouldn’t move no matter how much the tingling annoyed him. She was right where she should be, finally.
Finally. Marc had been thinking that a lot lately. The first time he’d kissed her; when he got her in bed last night; when she called his name as she came in his hand; when he came inside her. It was like his mind thought he’d been waiting a long time for her. He kept reminding himself it had only been a few weeks, but ‘finally’ kept echoing through his thoughts.
Usually, instead of getting comfortable, he’d talk the woman back into her clothes. He wouldn’t hurt Beth’s feelings by sending her home, even though he’d made it clear what this was. The problem was, he didn’t want Beth out of his arms, or his bed, let alone out of his house. He didn’t want to look too closely at the reasons behind it; he just accepted the difference. He had known it was different going in.
There was something else unusual about the night, something he hadn’t expected. He didn’t want to dwell on how much better sex was with Beth, but he couldn’t help himself. In the past he had jumped into bed quickly, and he took it for granted that if he wanted something, he could have it. That wasn’t the case with Beth. Not only was he feeling sated sexually, but he also laughed constantly when he was with her.
Marc had thought that after he and Beth finally had sex, the appeal would disappear. But it hadn’t. She took control the second time, and teased him for much longer. He’d ended up begging her, and he’d never begged before in his life. He wouldn’t have complained about begging her again, either, although he needed some time to recover.
He was looking forward to the morning, when he planned to seduce her all over again, this time with coffee and breakfast in bed. Then maybe they could get the kids and bring them over. Marc knew Beth had meant it when she said the kids would like the pool, and he wanted to see them enjoy it. He didn’t plan to make any permanent commitment, but for now, he would enjoy Beth and their kids.
Whoa.
Her kids.
He would enjoy Beth and her kids.
He pulled Beth tighter against his side, closed his eyes, and let himself drift off with, for the first time in his life, a woman in his arms. Finally.