Two of a Kind. Сьюзен Мэллери
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This is when it’s best to be quiet.”
Relief made her nearly as weak as his hands on her breasts.
“So we’re going to have sex?”
His answer was to haul her against him and thrust his tongue in her mouth. She met him stroke for stroke, wanting every sensation possible, wanting, no, needing, to be intimate with this man. Vulnerable.
As soon as the thought occurred, she felt herself starting to analyze what it meant. She did her best to turn off her analytical brain and focus instead on the feel of his soft T-shirt under her fingers, of his broad shoulders.
He deepened the kiss, then broke free and stepped back. In a matter of seconds, he’d pulled off his shirt and flung it away. His boots and socks followed. As he reached for the belt on his jeans, she undid her own and pushed them, along with her bikini panties, to the deck.
Before she could even admire his nakedness, he was moving past her to one of the lounge chairs. He raised a bar in back, then released it. The chair collapsed into a flat position.
“How clever,” she began, only to find herself being half guided, half carried to the chair. She was placed on the end, in a seated position, then Gideon dropped to his knees.
He buried his hands in her hair and kissed her. His tongue stroked against her lips before dipping inside. She kissed him back, even as she moved her fingers up and down his arms and his back.
He dropped his hands to her breasts. As he began to trail kisses down her neck, he urged her to lie back.
She did as he requested, her body on the cushion, her knees bent, her feet on the wood floor of the deck. As his fingers teased her sensitive nipples, his mouth moved lower and lower, the ultimate destination quite obvious.
He’d done that to her before, she remembered. The other two men hadn’t, but Gideon had given her her first orgasm with his tongue. She shivered slightly as he kissed his way down her belly, pausing to lightly circle the inside of her belly button.
She moved her arms so she could use her fingers to part herself for him. He’d taught her that, as well, she thought, her breathing already increasing.
Her insides clenched as he got closer and closer. She was so swollen. Her clitoris would be completely engorged with blood and extremely sensitive.
He shifted his hands so his palms were flat on her breasts. He massaged her, distracting her for a second. She felt the warmth of his breath, then he flicked the tip of his tongue against her. Just once. She gasped as a jolt of involuntary movement caused her to jump. He chuckled, then did it again.
This time she was prepared and felt herself sinking into sensation. He explored all of her, easing his tongue all the way inside her before returning it to her clit. Once there, he settled into a steady, slow rhythm of back and forth and around, his hands keeping pace on her breasts.
The predictable movements allowed her to focus on what she was feeling instead of anticipating what should happen next. As more and more muscles tensed, as her nerve endings fired more quickly, she felt her brain starting to shut down. There was only the sensation. She, who lived in a world of thoughts and ideas, was reduced to simply feeling. It was glorious.
Back and forth, around and around, with each stroke of his tongue, her body began the steady climb to release. She pulsed her hips, an unconscious signal that she wanted more. She was aware of her breathing getting faster and faster. Of small moans.
He moved one of his hands, sliding it down her body before inserting a finger deep inside her and curving up. Scientists argued about the reality of the G-spot, she thought hazily, trying to part her legs more, to press down. Right now she was convinced it existed, and when he rubbed it like that she was—
Her orgasm caught her unawares. One second she was tense and ready and the next she was flying. She rode the waves of pleasure, calling out, gasping and begging, screaming maybe. She wasn’t sure. She shook and shuddered. One finger became two, and she pushed down, wanting him to fill her.
His tongue stayed steady, allowing her release to go on and on until there was nothing left. This was what it felt like to be boneless, she thought, barely able to open her eyes.
He straightened.
She half raised herself on her elbows and glanced at his large erection. She smiled as she reached for him, guiding him inside her.
He was large enough to stretch her as he pushed in. She wrapped her legs around his hips, reached her hands to his. He grabbed hers. Their fingers laced together. She tried to keep her eyes open, to watch him as he pumped in faster and faster, but she was unable to stay focused. Not with the need growing inside her. Not when she was drawing closer to the edge once again, straining and straining until they came together.
CHAPTER THREE
FELICIA ARRIVED FOR her morning meeting right on time. As she parked by the warehouse that was the new offices for CDS, she found herself unable to stop smiling.
She’d spent the night with Gideon. They’d slept in a tangle of arms and legs in his big bed, then awakened before dawn to make love again. She’d left around five and had driven back to her place to shower and prepare for her day.
Although it was simple biology, what she’d done sounded so illicit. She liked that. Usually she was the boring one. The predictable friend who was always around and rarely had plans. She didn’t have sex with men she hadn’t seen in years—certainly not outside. At night.
She had a job offer and the aftereffects of the hormone bath that went with a satisfying sexual experience. Right now life was very, very good. Still grinning foolishly, she collected her backpack and walked into the building.
What had once been one big open space had been partitioned into offices, classrooms, locker rooms and a large workout facility. The plumbing was taking the longest. In addition to the usual toilets and sinks, there were also showers, lockers and a dressing area. Segregated by gender. Angel had foolishly suggested they make the women’s locker room smaller, but Felicia had stared him down. Justice and Ford hadn’t bothered coming to his defense. Probably because they knew better.
Justice was already there, his large presence seeming to fill the room. He sat at a battered desk he’d picked up at a garage sale a few weeks ago. Their “real” office furniture was on order.
“Hey,” he said as she entered, not bothering to look up from his laptop. “Did you file the permits for the shooting range?”
“Yes.” Her tone indicated she really meant “Of course,” but why state the obvious? “I took them directly to the city officials myself. They’ll be processed by the fifteenth.”
There was a professional mission statement in the articles of incorporation, but at its heart, CDS was a bodyguard school. It would provide advanced training for those in the industry as well as refresher courses. Ford would be working with corporations who wanted a unique team-building facility, while Angel would be in charge of the actual training. Justice was going to run the place.
In addition, CDS would provide classes for the community. Self-defense mainly with a few gun safety lectures and some hands-on training.
Felicia had been offered any job she wanted with the company, but knew she needed something different. She was ready to be as close to normal as she could get. She wanted to be part of a community, to fall in love, get married and have kids. A common dream, she thought, but one that seemed especially difficult for her to accomplish.
The job Mayor Marsha had offered was a big step in that direction. If only Felicia was brave enough to accept it.
She pulled her own laptop from her backpack and walked over to the desk. She pulled up a second chair and sat opposite Justice. Once the machine booted, she logged on to the internet and began typing.
“The equipment Ford and Angel ordered for the obstacle course will be delivered by the end of the week. The cherry