Beautiful Scars Part 4

"'Walking in Memphis'?"

She just smiled.

He rolled into it, watching her a little closer this time. She was looking at his hands again. Her face was flushed, although he didn't think it was the wine. He'd had as much as she and it was just the one bottle. Couldn't just be the wine, right?

She all but groaned as he launched into the one part that got to her, every d.a.m.n time, right near the end.

His voice dropped, lower, rougher.

A shudder went through her and she grabbed the gla.s.s of wine, drank it down. They'd emptied the bottle and she wished she could blame the heat burning inside her on the wine, but it wasn't that. It was him. Always him- "What is it about you and that song?"

As the music faded, she jerked her head up, saw him staring at her.

She tried to shrug. It wasn't the song, it was him. Something about the way he sang it, h.e.l.l, the way he sang anything... She licked her lips and stared off into the distance, trying to figure out the right way to say something that wasn't a lie, but didn't leave her stripped bare.

A harsh groan reached her ears.

Startled, she looked at him, realized he was staring at her mouth.

Two seconds later, he was reaching for her.

Stunned, she couldn't think. As his lips covered hers, she just couldn't think.

Marc was kissing her.

d.a.m.n it.

Marc was kissing her- Had she drank more wine than she'd thought?

"Open your mouth," he snarled against her lips, a harsh, urgent command in his voice. "Give me your mouth."

Dazed, she did just that, opened for him.

His arms came around her as his tongue stroked across the bottom of her lip, slowly, seductively...teasingly. Oh, h.e.l.l. She was in trouble. Big, big trouble...

And she didn't plan on doing anything to stop it, either. Not when he broke his mouth away to brush a line of stinging, hot kisses down her neck to her shoulder. Not when he stroked a hand up her thigh, the other cupping the back of her head.

Alarm, though, started to sound when he toyed with the fastening of her dress-alarm that would give way to terror if she let it.

Refusing to let that happen, she wiggled around until she was straddling his lap, her arms looped around his shoulders. Through the bodice of her dress, she felt the warmth of his breath, and when he pressed his mouth to her breastbone, she figured she needed to call a stop to this here and now. He didn't know and she just couldn't...

"Chaili...f.u.c.k, what have you got on under this skirt?"

She s.h.i.+vered as he spoke and Marc lifted his gaze, stared at her face, searching for some sign that he needed to pull back, but all he saw was the look of a woman wanting. Wanting him, d.a.m.n it. Chaili wanted him.

This was insane and if he knew what was good for the both of them, he'd pull back, but they'd already opened Pandora's Box and he'd never be able to look at her again without remembering her taste. Without feeling the silk of her skin. Might as well ride the insanity to the end.

A slow grin canted up the corners of her lips. "You really want to know?"

"f.u.c.k, yes."

Slowly, she eased back and then wiggled away. It wasn't necessary-the skirt was cut full and he could have pushed it up just fine on his own, but if she wanted to show him? Leaning back on his hands, he watched as she backed away a step or two from the bench.

"Just what's happening here, Marc?" she asked softly, her fingers toying with the hem of her skirt.

His lids drooped over his eyes as he stared at her fingers. f.u.c.k, would she just let him see? "What do you think is happening here, Chaili?" he rasped.

"Well, I know what I think is happening here..." She eased the hem up and he caught a glimpse of lace, a few inches past mid-thigh.

His heart was going to stop. "You think maybe we should call it quits?" He looked away from her hands, met her gaze, those pretty jewel-like eyes, and waited.

"No." She shrugged and said, "I just..." She touched her tongue to her lips. "Call me shy. I'm not taking my dress off."

He blinked. Well, the night was young, he could work on that. "Does that mean I won't get to home base?" he teased, slipping off the bench and moving to stand next to her. He had to see what in the h.e.l.l she had on under that skirt.

She laughed, a husky sound that went straight to his groin. "Oh, you can get to home base. Matter of fact, I'd rather you just skipped out on the whole third base bit too."

"But it's a lot of fun." He caught the hem of her skirt, dragged it up. "Just how shy are you, Chaili...do I get to see what's under here or not?"

She b.u.mped him back, grinning. "I said I'd show you."

He obliged, taking a step away. Then another, because he figured he'd see her better. And then he almost went to his knees as she dragged the skirt up, revealing the lacy tops of her stockings, the skinny straps of a garter.

"Turn around."

Her eyes widened a little and he could have kicked himself, but to his surprise she did it, still holding the skirt up, baring the stockings, her garters.

"Higher," he rasped.

A shudder raced through her and he narrowed his eyes, filing that little bit away. He'd think all of this through...later. Right now, he was having a hard time keeping his brain even functioning, and it only got worse as she tugged the skirt higher, higher, until it revealing the lacy edge of panties just a few shades darker than her skin. Lovely, just lovely...

Closing the distance between them, he gripped her waist and tugged her back against him, pressed his lips to her neck. She gasped and tilted her head to the side.

Raking his teeth along her skin, he slid his hand around, pressed it against her belly, splayed his fingers wide. As he cuddled his c.o.c.k against her a.s.s, he whispered, "Last chance, Chaili. Either we stop it now or we'll be sliding into home here very shortly."

"Well, not too shortly, I hope." She grinned at him over her shoulder.

Laughing softly, he slid his hand down, caught the hem of her skirt. Stroking his fingers along the lace of her stockings, he freed one strap. Another. Another. "I love your taste in lingerie," he whispered as he moved to the other leg. "I almost hate to undo these, but I really, really need you naked."

She chuckled. "They'll stay up."

"Yeah?"

Going to his knees after he'd freed the last strap, he stared at the round, taut curve of her a.s.s. "Pull your skirt up again. Don't let go this time."

"You're bossy," she muttered.

s.h.i.+t, she had no idea. But he noticed she didn't hesitate either, grabbing fistfuls of the full skirt, dragging higher, inch by scant inch. By the time the skirt had cleared the taut curve of her a.s.s, he was about ready to shove it up himself, but he waited. Teeth gritted, muscles clenched...he waited. And sure enough, those lace-topped stockings still lovingly gloved her thighs, the straps of her garters hanging free. Reaching under the garter belt, he caught the panties and eased them down and dropped the pale, lacy sc.r.a.p on the floor. Then, because she looked so d.a.m.ned hot, he hooked the garters back to her stockings as he leaned in, pressed his lips to the round curve of her a.s.s.

She had the most amazing a.s.s, he decided. Round, firm. She used to run in high school. Run, bike. She'd been the one of those brainiac athletic types. Judging by the long, sleek muscles, she was still into the active lifestyle.

Curving his hands over her ankles, he closed his eyes. He wanted to listen to every last shuddering sigh. Every catch of her breath as he touched her. As he tightened his hands just a little, her breathing hitched. When he stroked upward, that catch wasn't there.

When he stood and stroked the tips of his fingers along her spine, a soft moan escaped her. And when he touched his lips to her nape, she whispered his name.

But then, as he rested his hand on her waist, eased it around to her belly and stroked up, she tensed, every muscle in her body going tight. Okay... Another thing to file away. He stroked his hand back down, determined not to do a d.a.m.n thing that would ruin this. Back to her neck, her spine...she really seemed to like that.

And he noticed when he caught one wrist in his hand, dragged it up over her head, a soft cry escaped and she sagged, her free hand coming up to slam against the wall as though she needed to brace herself.

Blood roared in his ears. Hungry, demanding-a beast that demanded to be let free, but he didn't listen. He just focused on her. Only her.

Sanity pushed its way in. Slowly. Surely. They needed to talk. Even if just for a minute. "Chaili, we need to...f.u.c.k..." Aw, h.e.l.l. "That came out wrong. d.a.m.n straight, I need to f.u.c.k you, but I don't have anything here."

She tensed. Then relaxed. "Well...I'm on the pill. I know that doesn't cover everything, but I'm clean. n.o.body since my divorce and I've had blood work done since then."

He pressed his head against her shoulder. "We're stupid doing this, you know that, right?"

"Does that mean you...?"

He pressed his lips to her shoulder. "Nothing to worry about here. I'm clean, although you d.a.m.n well shouldn't trust that."

"Marc, if I can't trust you, who can I trust?"

She moved against him and those last threads of sanity snapped. Tightening his hold on her, he rasped against her ear, "Last chance, Chaili..."

"I think we pa.s.sed that point already."

If he stopped, she just might die. Chaili was certain of it. But she'd wait until she killed him first. Just having him kiss her had been a shocking surprise, but then he...

Whoa.

Chaili wasn't much for being told what to do.

Unless it came to s.e.x. She wouldn't ever call herself a true s.e.xual submissive, but she definitely preferred to have her lover take the dominant position, and while she wasn't surprised that Marc was a little aggressive...this was blowing her mind.

This was something she had never guessed about him, hadn't ever even thought about, well...other than in her fantasies, but those were her fantasies, right? She could think whatever she wanted there.

This wasn't a fantasy.

This was really happening.

His hand tightened oh so slightly on her wrist and she shuddered.

Every inch of her hurt. Every inch of her ached. Every inch of her was tight with need and want and yearning.

When the raspy sound of his zipper sliced through the silence, she had to lock her knees just to keep upright. "I'm not waiting," he muttered.

h.e.l.l...he better not. She'd been waiting her entire life, it seemed.

He kicked her ankles apart and she bit her lip to keep from crying out. d.a.m.n it, he was killing her. She tugged tightly against the restraining hold he had on her wrist, but he didn't let go. That made her jerk harder and he squeezed tighter, stretched her hand higher, taking away some of her leverage as he leaned in. "Chaili...?"

"You should probably know that I'm thinking about the best way to kill you if you stop any d.a.m.n thing you're doing."

"Anything, huh?" He stretched her hand higher, his thumb stroking in slow circles around her wrist.

Against her b.u.t.t, she could feel him, the length of his c.o.c.k, thick and hot, like a brand. Pus.h.i.+ng back against him, she groaned. "d.a.m.n it, Marc..."

"Hey, I'm just doing what I was doing...in the name of self-defense."

"Would you just f.u.c.k me?" she snarled.

And then she cried out as he caught her around the waist and lifted her. She felt him between her thighs, probing, pus.h.i.+ng... Her head fell back against his shoulder and she cried out.

The room s.h.i.+fted sideways-no. Wait. That was just them-he'd moved. She felt the floor under her knees, felt him at her back and then she groaned as he pushed against her. As he slowly sank inside, deep, deeper, she shuddered and twisted her hips, gripping him with her inner muscles, shuddering as he stroked over every sensitive, aching nerve ending, hitting all those right spots...and a few she didn't even know she had. Then he started to retreat and she clenched down in a desperate hope to keep him inside her. No, not yet...

"Aw, f.u.c.k," he growled, surging back inside. Deeper. Harder.

Again. Again.

She moved back to meet him each time, twisting her hips, clasping him tight and milking him, desperate for the feel of him inside her.

"Stop it," he growled, pressing the flat of his hand against the small of her back. "What's your hurry?"

She couldn't even think to understand the question, much less answer it.

Too long...Marc... Afraid of what she might let herself say if she said anything, she bit her lip, once more clenched down around him-every last nerve ending sizzling as his c.o.c.k sliced through her p.u.s.s.y, each stroke going deeper, hotter...taking her deeper, hotter. And despite her determination not to talk, she found herself keening out his name.

"That's it," he muttered behind her. "Come for me, Chaili... f.u.c.k, you're beautiful..."

And for a little while, she even believed it again.

"Say you'll stay the night."

Nearly thirty minutes had pa.s.sed and he'd moved only once, to s.h.i.+ft around and sit with his back against the wall and pull her into his lap. She felt just about perfect there.

Everything was just about perfect. She was soft and warm in his arms, snuggling against him with her cheek on his shoulder and every now and then she'd make this soft, kittenish little sigh that had his heart twisting. And she was stroking her fingers across his chest. Lightly. But it was like she couldn't stop touching him, and he really liked that.

He didn't want to stop touching her, either.

He was rather certain this had been the best s.e.xual experience of his life.

With Chaili.

He'd lost his mind a little bit there, grabbing her wrist that way, pus.h.i.+ng her against the wall. And she'd responded like... His lids drooped, an unconscious smile curling his lips as he recalled just how she'd responded. Perfectly.

Yeah.

Everything was just about perfect.