All he could think about was that Mandy wasn’t wearing any underwear or a bra under that very thin sundress.
And the way she treated him was so novel, so alluring, that he didn’t want this night to end and he didn’t want to retreat back into himself. Mandy sat with him, talked with him, with a trust and a frankness, her expression honest and open. Yet she expected nothing of him.
No hoops to jump through, no promises to make, no lavish gifts, no handing her his bleeding heart for her to own.
They were almost something like friends.
Except with one key difference.
Damien pushed his tongue between her lips and met the wet heat of her mouth as she sighed with pleasure. He wanted to capture that sound, keep it, hold it with him to reflect on later, when the world tilted back on its axis and he was alone with his apartment, his remote control, and his rampant destructive thoughts.
Nails moved along his scalp as she tugged him closer, the deep, questing kiss kicking up his need a notch. He pulled away so he could stand up, take her back into the room where it was private. He wanted to take that dress off and explore her body all over again. This time he was going to map her every inch like goddamn Lewis and Clark.
But Mandy had different plans. She was grasping at his fly, making desperate little jerks at the button, her teeth grazing along his shoulder with nips.
Fuck, yeah, that felt good.
But he wanted to take it slow. Explore. Soft, gentle loving to show her he appreciated and respected her. He took her hands.
She ripped them away. "If you want to stop me, you’ll have to tie me up."
Oh, my God. There was an image. And he was a sick bastard for picturing a helpless pregnant woman tied up while he licked her from the bottom up.
"I want in your trousers. Now." She tore the button out of the hole so viciously it dangled from its thread, useless.
Okay, then. Maybe she wasn’t so helpless after all. "Jesus." He held his hands out in surrender, hoping she didn’t rack him when she tried to unzip over his hard-on. "Go for it, honey."
He certainly liked a woman who knew what she wanted, even more so when it was him. "But don’t you want to go in the room before we become oceanside entertainment?"
Since her mouth was on his nipple, sucking lightly, and her hand was dragging his zipper down, he was thinking she wasn’t too concerned about getting caught. But what he was feeling, what they were sharing, hell, it was private.
And he was having trouble thinking, breathing, resisting her. Another second and she was going to be dipping her fingers right over his…
Damien groaned. Damn, she had paused with her hand right over his cock. He throbbed, swelling harder into the palm of her hand, and she gave an encouraging squeeze that had him reaching for the chair, her, anything to hold him up and to keep from falling over onto her and begging.
"I suppose we could go inside," she murmured, letting go of him so suddenly and stepping away, he almost pitched backward over the railing into the bushes below.
He might have whimpered. But before he could even recover his balance, Mandy was passing through the door, her arms twisted behind her back like she had an itch in an unreachable spot. Damien stepped toward her, his undone pants sliding down his hips, intent on scratching whatever itch she had. With his tongue.
But her arms settled back at her sides, and he realized she had been unzipping her dress. It fell to the floor with a soft thump, and Mandy glanced back at him over her naked shoulder.
Damien’s vision blurred, his tongue suddenly three sizes too big. Damn, his grandmother was right. She had always told him if he stared at a naked woman, he’d go blind. At twelve, he’d scoffed, sure she was just trying to scare him off girls. But now he had to rethink things. Mandy was so astonishingly beautiful it seemed actually possible he could lose his sight if he looked too long.
"Thank you, God," he said, voice hoarse, throat tight.
She turned, a wicked little smile on her face as she reached for his crotch. "Are you praying?"
"Yes, I think I am." The swivel she’d done had been too swift, he hadn’t gotten a good view of the front of her, but he was compensated by her sidling right up to him with full skin-on-skin contact.
Her breasts crushed against him as she bent down a little and he shuddered, stealing up to cup the fullness of her flesh, test its weight, stroke over her nipple. Her flesh was hot, her hair corkscrewing in the ever-present humidity, and she smelled so seductive, like chocolate and desire and coconut sunscreen.
"Oh, babe," he said on a satisfied sigh, skimming his lips over her shoulder as she edged his pants down his thighs. "You don’t know how good this is for me."
"Tell me." Mandy reached into his boxer briefs and cupped his erection.
He sucked in his breath. "Very, very good. If it feels any better you’ll be feeling it in your hand."
"Oh!" Her hand jerked on him, and when she glanced up at him, her cheeks were pink.
"Too crude? Sorry, sorry." Just don’t stop, holy hell. She was holding him lightly, almost absentmindedly.
He ground his teeth, part frustration and part excitement that he was going to learn all the things Mandy liked. He looked forward to finding all the ways to arouse her, all the hot spots he could stroke or kiss or suck until she was mindless, screaming his name.
But first she was going to make him scream. Her fingers brushed over him again, a nothing little touch of torture.
"Hmmm?"
"I embarrassed you by being too forthcoming, no pun intended." Oh, dear God, if she didn’t move her hand or do something with it, he was going to grab and grind it against him, and give away that he was losing control, letting his emotions and needs gush over and drive him.
"Oh, Damien, no." She shook her head, wetting her bottom lip. "I was embarrassed because I had a sudden desperate desire to lay you on the bed and climb on you, and do, well, you know, to…" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Ride you."
Yee-haw. Damien’s hand shot out, grabbing hers, and pressed them both against his erection, rocking a little to ease his suffering. "Do it."
"But then I started thinking that I’ve never really been the sort who got into that, and it always makes me feel rather like I’m a tightrope walker being gawked at and liable to fall off at any given moment. And really, should I be entertaining these sorts of thoughts at all? It’s shocking."
What was shocking was that she could stand there forming complete sentences. He was sure he couldn’t even recite the alphabet anymore.