Part 40 (1/2)

And then, because even with her somewhat limited experience she knew that laughing at the very first sight of a lover's equipment was not necessarily the most romantic thing to do, she took him into her mouth.

From the sounds he made, all was forgiven.

But d.a.m.n, that belt buckle was still jabbing her. His pants had to go.

”I'll be back,” she said in her best Ahnold imitation as she smiled up at him, giving him one last lick for good measure. He looked pretty d.a.m.n happy and joyful about that himself.

She pulled both his pants and his boxers down his legs as he kicked off his shoes and yanked his s.h.i.+rt over his head.

And then, except for his socks, he was a naked, naked, naked man.

And why a man like this ever wore clothes was a mystery.

He sat up, still trying to pull off her dress, but she moved her backside out of range of his hands, taking off his socks to make the picture perfect.

And perfect, he was.

Suntanned skin, with springy golden hair on his arms and legs and chest. Muscles, muscles, and more muscles. Tousled wavy hair, hot blue eyes, square jaw, movie star worthy cheekbones, and that little smile that played about his perfect lips and lit his face with genuine and unabashed amus.e.m.e.nt and pleasure. And then, to top it all off, an Empire State Building of an erection that confirmed the desire that burned in his eyes.

Even his toes were lovely.

”Come here,” he said.

”I was going to get a condom,” she said. And on the way back in from the bathroom, she was going to turn off the bedroom light.

”I put some in my jacket pocket,” he said, holding one of the little wrapped squares out on his palm. ”Hope springs eternal and all that.”

He reached for her, grabbing her wrist and pulling her back onto the bed with him, kissing her mouth, long and sweet and hard. Her bare b.r.e.a.s.t.s were against his naked chest.

”This is what I want,” he whispered. ”I want to be skin to skin with you.”

”I do, too, but I want to turn off the light first,” she admitted. ”I'm not as perfect as you. My a.s.s is big. And my hipsa””

He laughed. ”Your a.s.s is s.e.xy and I love every inch of your hips, baby. I've been dying to get my hands on you for days now.”

”Careful,” she warned. ”If you call me baby, I just might have to call you Junior.” She looked down between them. ”Or maybe not.”

He laughed, tickling her, and she shrieked, pulling away from him, leaping off the bed.

He followed, and she backed away.

”Aha,” he said. He was trying to keep a straight face and failing rather miserably. ”So you do want to play bad cop and naughty nuna”I knew you were secretly kinky, DaCosta.”

She laughed. ”Naughty nun?”

Muldoon laughed, too.

Dear G.o.d, was it really possible that a man who looked like Muldoon was actually capable of not taking himself seriously, of having some completely silly fun?

Yes, apparently it was. If she were smart, she'd start figuring out some way to keep him around for longer than the next few weeks. Oh, and wasn't it a complete mistake to start thinking about that? They lived about as far apart as two people could and both still be Americans. They were both completely devoted to their careers.

And that wasn't even taking into consideration the fact that Michael Muldoon was not a long-term man. He couldn't possibly be. If she weren't careful, she was going to get emotionally pulverized. If she didn't stay in control...

But, G.o.d, look at him, smiling at her like that. His laughter had turned once more into heat as he gazed at her bare b.r.e.a.s.t.s and...

She realized that her dress was hanging down around her hips, and she hiked it up to cover her stomach. She didn't have the same kind of belly b.u.t.ton action that Britney Spears had going.

”Wait,” Muldoon said. ”I want to show you something, okay?”

He gently pulled her across the room and turned her around. She was now facing the nearly full-length mirror that hung over the low dresser on the opposite wall from the bed. And, G.o.d, there she was, naked b.r.e.a.s.t.s and messy hair and all.

Muldoon moved so that he was directly behind her, his arms around her.

”Look how s.e.xy you are,” he said. He touched her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, her throat, her torso, his big hands sweeping across her body.

Yes, her hair was messy, but it was a s.e.xy kind of messy. And when he touched her like that, his hands warm and his fingers slightly rough, her mouth opened slightly, and eyes half closed and...

”You're incredibly beautiful,” he whispered. ”If you really want the light off, we can turn it off. But I'd prefer to see this. To see you. Is that okay?”

”Yeah,” she breathed. At that point, anything he asked would have been okay with her.

”Let it go,” he murmured, tugging at her dress. She opened her fingers, hypnotized by both the sight and sensation of his hands moving across her skin, down the soft curve of her stomach, across her hips. Across that tiny rose tattoo. And lower.

As she watched in the mirror, he dipped one hand beneath the edge of her dress, beneath the edge of her panties and...

”Oh, yeah,” he breathed into her ear, pressing himself against her rear end as he filled her with his fingers. ”You make me crazy, Joan. You're so hot.”

And what do you know? She actually was. Tummy and hips and all, when Muldoon touched her, when he looked at her like that, she was steaming hot.

”I love your legs,” he said as he pushed her dress down her thighs, and the silky fabric pooled at her feet. He trailed his fingers along the insides of her thighs, stopping just short of touching her intimately again. She was leaning back against him slightly, breathing hard, her nipples taut and at attention. She watched herself in the mirror as she opened her legs slightly for him, in a silent invitation.

He met her eyes in the mirror and smileda”and pushed her panties down her legs. ”Do it again,” he whispered.

She did. Oh, my.

And then ... oh, my. She felt him against her, behind her, hot and thick, as he slid his hand down her stomach and touched her. He kept going, reaching between her legs to guide himself to her, even as he tipped her slightly forward.

Slowly, so slowly, he moved, filling her a little bit farther with each stroke, as he kept touching her.

”Condom,” she remembered, even though she wasn't quite sure that she knew her own name.

”It's on.” His voice sounded funny, too. ”G.o.d, you're tight.”

He kept moving, slowly, slowly, his fingers creating the friction that their position made impossible.

But she wanted more, and she was ready for him, reaching behind her to pull him more closely to her, to fill her completely.