Six Hot Single Dads. Lynne Marshall
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No man changed his mind in that particular state. Or at least, not that she’d ever experienced.
Mercifully, the car turned in to the parking garage of their building. It was if she’d been wrenched from a fabulous dream, only to wake up and realize that real life was even better. She cleared her throat, smoothed her hair, thanked the driver. She hadn’t scrambled out of a car so fast in her entire life. They hurried inside. She was so relieved the elevator was empty.
Now that things were going the way she’d hoped, she wanted it to be perfect. “Did you, um, want to come over to my place?” she asked.
“I thought you’d never ask,” he replied, taking her hand, looking at her with a smile that said he wanted to consume her. She was more than ready to be breakfast, lunch and dinner.
“Do you need to check in with the babysitter or something?”
“My sister is watching Lila. She’s fine.”
The elevator dinged and she took his hand, rushing to her door. Once inside, she dropped her handbag on the foyer table, and he very quickly removed his jacket and left it there, as well.
She took his hand and placed it on her shoulder, using his thumb to push off the strap, eager for more than his suit coat to end up on the table.
“Well, then,” he said, smirking, wrapping his arm around her waist and coaxing the second strap off with his other hand.
“You told me in the limo to concentrate on what I want. I’m following orders.” The light of the city filtered in through the windows behind him, outlining his broad frame, casting shadows on his strong jaw and down the contours of his neck.
“You are so beautiful,” he said, caressing her cheek. “I can’t wait to see the rest of you.”
“Me, too. I want to find out if that calendar was false advertising or if you really do look that good without a shirt.”
He laughed. “So you really did look?”
“Yes, Marcus. I did.”
* * *
Ashley popped up onto her tiptoes and raised her arms up onto his shoulders. She kissed him with surprising force. He loved that about her—it was like kissing a firecracker dressed up in dynamite. She was a bundle of pure excitement and enthusiasm. She reminded him that he was alive. He couldn’t have stopped drinking in her life force if he’d wanted to. He’d asked himself in the limo if this was a good idea, but he was tired of that question. She wanted him. He wanted her. They were two grown people, capable of making their own decisions. Thinking was for later.
Their lips mashed together eagerly, tongues wound around each other in an endless spiral. He held her flat against him, letting her feel exactly how hard he was, how much he wanted her. He reached for the zipper at the back of her dress and dragged it down. Her breath caught as his hand explored her silky back, his fingers drawing up and down her spine, dipping lower on each pass until he reached the lacy fabric of what felt like incredibly skimpy panties. He had to see for himself what that was all about.
“Can we go into your bedroom?” he asked, nearly breathless.
“Yes.” She grabbed his hand, holding up her dress with the other, and leading him down the hall she’d traipsed through in a towel at the beginning of their night. The towel. Could he convince her a shower was in order at some point? His mind churned with possibilities—all of the things he wanted to do to her, the things he wanted her to do to him.
They arrived at her room, and although it was difficult to see much in the dim light, there was a massive bed and that was enough.
She turned to him and let the dress fall to the floor. His eyes couldn’t take in the landscape of her beautiful body fast enough. Her slender legs. The generous curve of her hips. Her gorgeous, pert—and naked—breasts.
“No bra?” He cupped her velvety skin gently with his hands, watching her reaction as he dragged his thumbs across her nipples, the skin tightening beneath his touch. Everything below his waist responded in kind.
“Not in that dress, no. I don’t really need it.” She moaned quietly as he continued to roam with his hands, caressing her velvety skin. “We need to get you out of these clothes.”
He’d been so lost in the wonder of her naked body that he hadn’t even realized he was still mostly dressed. He yanked off his tie and unbuttoned his shirt, watching as Ashley’s nimble fingers unlatched his belt and she dropped his pants to the floor. Now all there was between them was her panties, his boxers and the willingness to set aside disagreements for a much more enjoyable neighborly meeting.
He watched as she flattened her hands against his chest and began moving down his torso with delicate kisses, but the clock on the bedside table caught his eye. He’d promised he would be home before midnight, and the time had nearly arrived. Joanna had told him to stay out, but guilt began to eat at him.
Ashley climbed onto the bed and curled a finger with a sly grin on her face. “Get over here, Chambers.”
Her spark was enough to make him do hundreds of things he’d told himself he wouldn’t do. He stretched out next to her, and his hands roved over her smooth stomach. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to her breast, then sucked her nipple softly. Ashley arched her back and practically purred. “That feels so good,” she muttered, as if that “so” had fifty o’s. He flicked his tongue while he inched his hand to the waistband of those tiny panties and began tugging them past her hips.
Ashley lifted her bottom off the bed. “Touch me, Marcus. Please. I’m dying.” She squirmed beneath his touch as he slipped his fingers between her legs and found her warm apex. “Yes. There.”
She rolled toward him and kissed him recklessly as he caressed that tight bundle of nerves. He sensed the tension in her body quickly, punctuated by short, raspy breaths. He’d forgotten what it was like to have a woman at his mercy, to be able to give her pleasure that made it feel as though he was invincible. “Is that what you like, Ash? Is that how you like it?”
“Yes,” she nearly growled. “And talk to me, Marcus. I like a man who talks to me in bed.”
It was not a request. It was a demand, and it made him that much more determined to make her come like she never had before. He lightened his touch—teasing, toying. “I’ll talk as long as you play along.”
“Is everything a negotiation with you?” She shifted, resting her upper thigh between his legs, creating sublime friction between them. “Because I’d be willing to concede a lot right now.”
Her quick wit only turned him on more. He had to focus on her pleasure or he’d go sailing off the cliff in no time. “No bargaining. Just tell me what you want.”
“Circles. With your hand. And don’t be gentle.”
Her words made everything in his body tighten, and he obliged her, upping the pressure, moving in steady rotations with his fingers.
She tilted her head back, pulling away from his kiss while pressing her pelvis hard into his hand. “Yes. Just like that,” she gasped. Every breath she took ended in a whimper, growing louder, stronger, more insistent. Then she arched her back and froze, calling out, grabbing his hand and insistently stilling it against her body.
As soon as she caught her breath, she sought his lips, kissing him deeply. She pushed him to his back and climbed on top of him, straddling his hips. It was a good thing he still had his boxers on. This much touching was too much to take. “Tell me you have a condom,” she said.
“You don’t?”
“I don’t. I was taking a break from men, remember? I told you that on our first date.”
“I assumed that was a metaphorical break. Not a real one.”
She shook her head and kissed him again. “Oh, trust me. It was a real break. I haven’t been with another man in months. So please tell me you have a condom or