Cold Case, Hot Bodies. Jule McBride
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had eternity, not just a night, then she dipped until a taut nipple was firmly in her mouth. Quick suckles made his mind fog….
He was sure he’d drifted again. He didn’t know for how long. He was floating in bliss. Sheila felt so good…impossibly good. Every time they got together, sex just got better. Tonight it was excellent. Better than ever before. Right now, the touch of her mouth was torture. Every fiber of his being was starting to sing for release. Slowly, he caressed her bottom, thrilled when she kept playing with his nipples…
Then, from somewhere far off, he heard another song start, and strained his ears. He heard piano music and stomping feet. Clapping hands. A hoot of merriment.
“Give me another pint of ale,” someone yelled.
“A pint for the whole house,” another hollered.
He must be dreaming. Or else someone was playing an old dance hall recording. He felt unbelievably hot. Sweat prickled his nape as he shook off sleep once more, and opened his eyes. Still, only darkness. What was happening? He felt almost as if he’d been drugged. “You feel so good,” he whispered.
“You’re not bad, yourself.”
As he inhaled sharply, Sheila’s scent settled in his lungs. It wasn’t the musky perfume she usually wore, but something lighter that evoked coy flirtation. As the music climbed toward crescendo, she continued nibbling that one nipple, making the other yearn for the ministrations of her mouth. She was raking teeth against the sides until fever took him, and the fire raging beneath his naval turned more fluid. A coiled spring of swirling lava became more diffuse, prickling through his veins, lazily roping into all his extremities.
“Are you going to wake up for me, sailor?”
Yawning and stretching beneath her like a huge jungle cat, he lifted his hips, the muscles of his buttocks straining. Between his legs, his heavy erection felt more than bother-some, an irksome annoyance that needed to be dealt with soon. Frustration surfaced in his husky growl. “Where have you been, anyway?”
“I got tied up.”
He imagined her naked, and strapped to a bed with long silk scarves. “I like the sound of that.”
“You would,” she teased.
“Damn right I would,” he whispered.
His eyes had adjusted, but it was too dark to see her features. He imagined her high cheekbones, the long, straight patrician nose. He wanted to see her undressed, her breasts swinging free from the restrictive jacket and whatever she wore beneath. He could see them softly bouncing as she rode him. “Oh, yeah,” he whispered, another swift pang claiming his groin.
He reached to turn on the lamp, but her hand glided over his, stopping him. It was just as well. He could tape them later. Maybe the camera was even picking up some of the action, anyway. After all, he could see shadows, and it was motion activated.
He grasped a lock of hair and chuckled. Had she really rustled up this wig just for him? This was almost as good as the time she’d let him arrest her in the shower. Or when she’d handcuffed him to bed. Or when she’d come over, wearing nothing under a raincoat.
“It feels so real.”
“Of course it’s real.”
He rubbed the strands between his fingers, his loins still firing. As he brought silky waves to his face, another series of jolts pulsed into his bloodstream. He breathed in, finding the scent was more like shampoo than the neutral scent he’d expected from a wig.
“You’re good,” he murmured in admiration. She must have brought a boom box, too. That’s why the bawdy-house music was playing. It wasn’t coming from another apartment, after all. It was all part of Sheila’s act. Slowly untying the belt of her jacket, he flicked open buttons, then pushed the garment off her shoulders and down her arms, exposing what felt like a tight cotton blouse. “I almost believe you’re Gem O’Shea.”
“You had doubts?”
“In my line of work, we’re not known for our trusting natures.”
“Can you trust me to give you the ride of your life, sailor?”
“I think I can manage that.”
She started unbuttoning her blouse. In the darkness, he sensed, rather than saw, the edges open.
“You didn’t take the money from the table,” he murmured, his voice low.
“Paying me, are you?”
“Oh, yeah.”
Clasping his hands, she brought them to her chest and placed them on her breasts. Slowly, he traced the lace edges of the bra cups she swelled to fill. She was spilling out, and thrusting her chest, too, as if begging for his touch. Her quickening breath urged him on, making him want to touch between her legs to make her climax.
As he opened her bra’s front clasp, his own chest constricted. Light-headed, he swallowed against the sudden dryness of his mouth and pushed aside the cups. After licking his own fingers, he trailed slippery swirls of saliva on the distended tips of her breasts. Capturing one with his mouth, he squirted wet heat until she muttered something senseless. Her hips suddenly wrenched. As he sponged her, he lifted his hips, rubbing her until she was bucking. Her hands flattened on his chest, as if to slow him down, and her long delicate fingers curled, tugging wildly at strands of his chest hair. He leaned back on the pillow.
Her voice was husky. “How much are you paying me?”
“Not nearly what you’re worth.”
“Is this your first time on Angel’s Cloud?”
“Yeah.”
“And did you request me? Or was this just luck of the draw?”
“Absolutely intentional.”
“You heard good things about me?”
“I heard you’re the best.”
“Hearsay’s of little matter. Am I the best?”
He was about to explode and he wasn’t even inside her yet. “You’re convincing me of it right now.”
“I didn’t expect to find you like this.”
“Like what?”
“Naked. In bed. And…so hard.” She shivered as if to emphasize her point.
“Is that a crime?”
“Do you want me to arrest you?”
“You can keep me locked up for a long time.”
The music seemed to surge then, and he gasped in protest as the heat of her lower body left his, at least until he realized she was only stripping off leggings. As soon as her legs were bare, his hungry hands sought flesh. Disappointment filled him when he found her panties still on. By the feel of it, it was a tiny silk thong with a string waistband. She straddled him again, her knees on the mattress. Just her scent was enough to make him beg for mercy.
Overcome, he grasped her back, hugging her, then nuzzled her face. The music seemed to be coming right through the walls as his tongue stroked the scanty fabric. When she flung back her head to take the pleasure, long hair whipped behind her, and when her back arched for the intimate kiss, his rigid tongue dove for her clitoris, soaking it. Using a hand to steady her, he pressed his mouth to her, making her writhe.
Not even air passed between them as his tongue did its magic, vibrating. Under damp panties, her cleft opened all the way, and both her hands raked into his hair, digging into his scalp. She moaned, then shuddering cries came in a steady stream. She was wet, his kiss was wetter, and in a second, her panties were drenched, but he didn’t think she’d come yet. She was holding back.
“Come.” He murmured the word against the silk. “Now.”
But she only cradled his head tighter. No wonder it had taken