One Wild Wedding Night_ Runaway Part 2

"That sounds...interesting," he murmured, watching her intently as she moved off his lap and pushed the dress down over her curvy hips, then past a set of pale, slender thighs encased in those silky, thigh-high stockings, until she wore just a tiny pair of lacy pink panties.

The car rocked. Or at least his insides did.

"But I think latex would probably be more appropriate," she said, reaching for her handbag. She plucked a condom from it.

Obviously, the professional came prepared.

The sight of it in her hands-and the knowledge that soon it would be the only thing separating his s.e.x from hers-made him even harder, his c.o.c.k swelling out of his unb.u.t.toned pants.

She noticed. h.e.l.l, a blind nun would have noticed. Widening her eyes, she licked her lips. "Oh, my goodness," she murmured, sounding adorably innocent. And suddenly looking very young.

That gave him pause. "How old are you?"

Her eyes glued to his crotch, she replied, "Twenty-two."

Old enough. Not quite his twenty-seven, but old enough.

Leah slid off him completely, moving to the other seat. With the skill of a temptress, she caressed her body in a slow stroke until her fingertips rested on the hem of one stocking.

"Leave them on," he ordered.

Nodding, she reached for the lacy edge of her panties.

"Leave those on, too."

Quirking a brow in confusion, Slone made his intentions clear. He reached for her, tracing the elastic of her panties, from hip down to the juncture of her thighs. The fabric was moist there. Leah moaned as he slipped his finger around the barrier, tangling it in her soft curls, then sliding it into her slick crevice. She was sweet and hot and incredibly wet. There was no mistaking pure, genuine arousal. Whatever the reason she'd wound up in his car, she wanted him now, that was certain.

Using his thumb, he found her taut little c.l.i.t and played it like a tiny, beautiful instrument while continuing to make love to her with one finger, then two. But her cries of pleasure soon turned into pleas for more. And Slone gave up any effort to draw this out. He needed her...needed to be in her. Now.

Pus.h.i.+ng his clothes out of the way and sheathing himself, he tore her panties off and tugged her back onto his lap. This time, there was no teasing, no holding herself away. Leah wrapped her hands in his hair, pressing her mouth to his in a hot kiss, then impaled herself on him in one deep, hard stroke.

Bliss. It was pure, physical perfection. She was so d.a.m.n hot, wrapped around him like a glove, bathing him in sensation. Slone pushed up harder and Leah groaned as she took everything he had to give her, gasping at the intensity of it.

"Beautiful," he muttered hoa.r.s.ely as they began to rock and sway. She met every upward movement and answered it with a hard plunge down, and they found a perfect syncopation.

They thrust hard, kissing and stroking in almost violent need. "You're so d.a.m.n tight," he muttered. He caught her hips to hold her still so he could pound into her so deep she'd never be able to forget he'd been inside her.

"It's been a long time," she replied, her words choppy. Her head was back, her eyes closed as she silently urged him onward.

Hot sensation roared through him, every nerve ending coming alive to join in the final race to the finish. Heat sluiced through his veins, gathering in his groin with a demanding throb that wouldn't wait any longer.

He couldn't stop, not for anything. Not even when the strange words she'd said sunk into his head, bouncing around but not making any sense to his l.u.s.t-drenched brain. Until finally, with his hands twined in her hair as he ravenously kissed her willing mouth, he let his climax come and emptied himself inside her.

Chapter 3.

There were worse places to fall asleep than in the arms of a supers.e.xy, naked rich guy. Leah could think of a lot of them. A whole lot.

But she couldn't think of many better ones.

So when she did wake up from the brief, satiated sleep she'd tumbled into after their wild lovemaking, she wasn't too quick to move away. He'd s.h.i.+fted her around, so they were both lying on the long bench seat, and tucked her in front of him with a possessive arm around her waist. Settled in against him, as comfortable as if they'd known each other for months rather than an hour, Leah yawned.

Though she thought he might have dozed off, too, his voice told her otherwise. "You're not a prost.i.tute, are you?"

Not even turning in his arms to look at him, Leah chuckled and shook her head. "Uh, that'd be a no."

"h.e.l.l."

"You're disappointed that I'm not a prost.i.tute?"

She wondered why his answer mattered so much to her. What difference did it make? She'd gotten what she wanted: some great s.e.x. Who cared what someone she'd never see again after tonight thought?

He ran the tips of his fingers up and down her bare arm, the contact sending little trills of delight through her. "Not disappointed, just feeling like s.h.i.+t for a.s.suming it."

His answer pleased her, which was when she realized she definitely did care what someone she'd never see again after tonight thought.

"Has it really been...a long time?"

Men. So territorial. She answered truthfully. "Yes. Quite a while."

She'd swear she could feel his chest puff out. Again. Men. So territorial. "It's not like I prefer celibacy," she retorted.

"So why do you carry condoms in your purse if you're not having s.e.x?"

She snorted. "Who better to carry condoms than someone who isn't getting it...but really wants it?" Blowing out a harsh breath, she added, "Imagine if I hadn't had any on me tonight, now wouldn't I be frustrated?"

"No, you'd be in the parking lot of the nearest twenty-four hour convenience store that sells them."

Chuckling at his vehemence, she replied, "That would have been an interesting stop to explain to your driver."

"He's not paid to think about what I'm doing." A trace of arrogance appeared in his voice. The man was used to getting what he wanted and was probably a little spoiled. But he was so darned s.e.xy, she just couldn't bring herself to care.

"My turn to ask a question. Why did you think I was a prost.i.tute?"

"Well, you did just have s.e.x with a complete stranger in the back of a limo."

Pot meet kettle. She shot back without thinking. "So did you." She held her breath for a second, wondering how he'd react, then heard him chuckle.

"True."

Wanting to see the laugh lines beside his eyes, Leah s.h.i.+fted in his arms until she was lying flat on her back. Looking up at him as he continued to recline on his side next to her, she couldn't help but notice again just how handsome the man was. Shockingly handsome-much too suave and s.e.xy for a small-town runaway, a high-school dropout who'd just taken her GED a year ago and wasn't likely to finish college until she was thirty at the rate she was going.

But maybe not too out of reach for the siren she played when she danced at Leather and Lace. Men of all cla.s.ses wanted that woman. And she-Leah's alter ego-was worthy of a night in the arms of a man like this one.

d.a.m.ned if Leah wasn't going to take it.

"I'm very glad we were both so easy," he murmured.

Aside from giving her a perfect view of his strong jaw and lean cheeks, Leah's new position tugged Slone's attention in other directions, too. His gaze s.h.i.+fted down, his lips parting on an audible breath as he studied her full b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Her nipples hardened under his stare, practically begging for more of the thorough attention he'd given them a little while ago. Beside her hip she felt his s.e.x stirring again and she arched as warm awareness surged through her again.

The man certainly seemed able to fill a "whole night."

She could hardly wait to continue it, but was curious enough to continue their conversation. "Okay, so we were both pretty easy. But why did you a.s.sume what you did about me even before I woke up?"

"Jaded, I guess. I figured you recognized me and saw the chance to make a buck by stowing away in my car...."

"I got in the wrong limo," she explained. "I rode down to the bar with a group of women in a rental limo, which looked a lot like this one in the dark." Shaking her head, she added, "Do you a.s.sume every woman you b.u.mp into is a hooker?"

He glanced toward her pretty velvet gown, now lying in a rumpled heap on the other seat. "The dress was a little...provocative and not exactly neighborhood-bar appropriate."

Leah couldn't help snorting a laugh. "Wait till I tell Izzie somebody mistook her bridesmaid gowns for hooker getups."

He sighed. "Bridesmaid?"

She nodded.

"Sorry. I just thought the rich-looking gown and the, uh, worn coat didn't quite fit together."

"You're right. They don't. I need to replace the coat, just haven't had the bucks." Before he even asked for an explanation, she added, "I'm working nights to put myself through school to become a nurse."

She didn't mention what she did on those nights...admitting she was a stripper might have him rethinking his initial suppositions about her. Some people couldn't separate exotic dancer from paid wh.o.r.e, as she knew from the occasional nasty client at the club.

Not that this guy was nasty, not in the least. He was s.e.xy and hot and gentlemanly. Especially now when he was looking at her with tenderness and even a hint of sheepishness. "A nursing student. Well, I couldn't have fouled that up much more, could I?" Lifting a hand to her hair, he tenderly smoothed a long, blond strand away from her face. "Forgive me?"

"Don't sweat it. I'm not the type of woman to go all crazy, whacked-out, vengeful virgin because some guy made an incorrect a.s.sumption."

That smile widened. "Crazy, whacked-out, vengeful virgin, huh? Guess I should count myself lucky."

"Guess you should."

He slid his hand down her arm again, this time not stopping there, but continuing on so he could brush his fingertips over her hip. Then closer to the junction of her thighs. Leah quivered, arching toward his touch. "You're ready to count yourself lucky again, hmm?"

He nodded, bending down to cover her mouth with his, kissing her deeply, slowly, so thoroughly she felt as if he was memorizing the inside of her mouth for all eternity. No breath reached her lungs that hadn't crossed his lips first and by the time he lifted away from her, she was absolutely on fire for him again.

"You know, I'd like to slow things down. Why don't we take this someplace a little more comfortable," he whispered.

Leah opened her mouth to protest-she was fine right where she was-but before she could, Slone had reached for a small b.u.t.ton on the wall and depressed it. "Time to head home now, Richie."

Leah immediately scanned the car, looking for a camera or something, praying the driver couldn't see back here. Why she should care about yet another man seeing her naked, she didn't know. But it probably had something to do with the fact that she was not standing on a stage in a darkened room, writhing to music, removed from the men watching her. Instead she was lying sated in the arms of a naked man, her whole body flushed with pleasure, her legs casually parted, her s.e.x still swollen from his possession and slick with her renewed arousal.

Yeah, that'd be quite an eyeful.

"He can't see us," Slone murmured, reading her thoughts. Gently sliding her off his lap he reached for his s.h.i.+rt.

"We making any stops first, boss?" the voice from the intercom said.

The driver obviously wanted to know if they were taking Leah home. Considering she'd intended to go in to work tonight, she supposed she should be responsible about it. But she had promised this amazingly s.e.xy man a whole night.

And she was selfish enough to want to give it to him.

He obviously wasn't even considering anything else. "No. Straight home." He flicked the switch off and smiled at Leah as he handed her her gown. "You're going to like my place. And you're really going to like my bed."

Though Slone wished the ride home would take its usual few minutes, the roads were still not in the best shape. So they picked their way through Chicago, Richie going easy on the curves and following the plows where possible.

They could have spent the time making love again, but something about the antic.i.p.ation of having her in a bed made him wait. They'd jumped right into wild, backseat s.e.x when they'd met. Now they were going back for a slow buildup before the next time.

He liked slow buildups...antic.i.p.ating things. From a fine meal to a long-planned journey to the successful culmination of a hard-fought business venture, the trip itself was one of Slone's genuine pleasures.

Which made it pretty unusual that his hands were itching to stroke every inch of that luscious body now covered again in red velvet. To plunge into her and lose himself inside her and do her fast and furious until neither one of them were even capable of moving.

If she hadn't just put that dress back on and were still lying naked in his arms, he'd have said to h.e.l.l with it. There'd be lots of buildup in his big, comfortable bed later tonight. After all, she had promised him the whole night.

Of course, she had promised it when he'd thought he was paying for it. But it didn't matter...he still intended to pay her, in exactly the currency she'd requested. Pleasure.

"So, you're rich, huh?" the adorable blonde asked as she moved to the seat opposite him. He wondered if she, too, was feeling some of the desperation in the air, and was also trying to prove-to both of them-that she could wait.

"I suppose."

She rolled her eyes. "It's not a question you can hedge on like that. If I'd asked you if you knew you were a total stud-m.u.f.fin and you wanted to pretend to be modest you could say 'I suppose' or 'others might say so,' which would be total bulls.h.i.+t but at least understandable if you had a single modest bone in your body, which you don't."

Slone shook his head, not sure whether to laugh or be offended. "That was a mouthful."

She ignored him. "But rich is rich, it's not in the eye of the beholder."

"Unless you're some decently paid TV personality beholding Oprah Winfrey's bank account."

Frowning, she grudgingly admitted, "Okay, there's wealthy, rich and filthy rich. Where do you fall in there?"

If he sensed she had a greedy, selfish bone in her body, he might have been concerned about the questions. But she didn't. He knew it, for some reason. Slone was a d.a.m.n fine judge of character and he'd already pegged hers: ruthlessly honest, blunt and a whole lot more vulnerable than she'd ever want anyone to realize.

Her mouth confirmed the honest part. Her fingerless gloves the vulnerable part.

He'd put her in cashmere, if he had his way.

"Well?" she prompted.

"Put me closer to the I-won-the-lottery-in-a-small-state than the Bill Gates side of the scale, okay?"

"Gotcha." She shot him a thumbs-up. "And just to be fair so I don't seem rude for asking, I'll share, too. I am so not rich. Put me somewhere between the I-won-ten-bucks-on-a-scratch-off-ticket and the at-least-I'm-not-on-unemployment side of the scale."