Chapter Eight
Camila touched her stomach, in hopes of settling the turmoil storming inside.
He twisted the key and opened the door, gesturing for her to enter the room. Ah, how she loved his old-fashioned, gentlemanly ways. She loved something else…the way his lips had crushed hers, his hands held hers, and his tongue worked her sex. With urgency and need—two qualities he’d never showed until then.
“Go to the bed,” he said.
They’d both washed the sand off their feet in the yard before returning to the house. She took off her shoes, and every step she took toward the bed accelerated her heartbeat. There’s no going back now. A shiver rolled down her spine. What could she make of their sexual dynamic? She’d insisted on having him, yet he was in control.
He wants me. The thought should have sent some basic empowerment through her, but now, with the reality of being alone with him in the suite, she felt lightheaded.
He smiled. “Take off your clothes.”
What clothes? She put both hands behind her and fumbled to find the zipper then pushed it down. Within seconds, the dress slid down, revealing her naked body. Going commando wasn’t her style, but she hadn’t wanted to put on the panties again, and opted for sliding them into her clutch.
“What a naughty girl, Camila. You never put your underwear back on,” he said in a throaty voice, and her nipples perked up in response.
“That’s the effect you have on me,” she said. Her whole life she couldn’t half-ass things, and why should she start now? If sex was the only way she could have him, the only way this complex, mysterious man could have her, she would give him all of herself. Whatever he wanted.
“Don’t get me started about the effect you have on me,” he countered, removing his jacket and tossing it on the tufted chair. If the bulge in his slacks was a hint, she affected him badly. She bit back a smile, desire streaming through her like water on a river.
He pulled his shirt over his head then flung it across the room. Next, he pulled down his pants and black boxer briefs. She felt her eyebrows reach her hairline. His cock sprung free majestically, the girth and size evidence of her luck. “Get on the bed.”
She climbed on the bed, every ounce of her vibrating in anticipation. He watched her for an instant, staring at her like she was a Greek goddess. Her breath caught in her throat, and little threads of excitement moved through her. How was it possible for her to reach such a degree of arousal without him even touching her yet?
Because he was Jaeger Bauer, the only man who’d ever evoked such responses from her. She didn’t have any better explanation, nor did she want to.
“Close your eyes,” he said, this time in a softer tone, like he was about to put her to sleep.
She lay on her back, and the cool linens caressed her skin, her senses enhanced by her lack of vision. Peeking at him quickly was an option, but she decided to go with the flow. She heard him walk around the bed and unzip his suitcase.
Adrenaline pumped in her veins. Maybe he was reaching for a condom to keep it close by; that made total sense. When he stepped closer to the bed, she chewed on her bottom lip. What was happening? The weight of the mattress shifted to one side, as he joined her. Unable to take any more tension, she opened her eyes to find him watching her with a hint of a smile. So that’s how she got him to smile more often—by wearing no clothes.
He touched her, pulling her from the middle of the bed to the area where a few pillows stacked against the frame. “Do you trust me, Camila?”
It depends. “Yes.”
He ran a finger down her nose and she quivered under his touch. He grabbed a silky gray-and-blue tie behind him. “I want you to put your hands above your head and I’ll bind them with this tie. Are you okay with that?”
She chewed on her lower lip. Of course he seemed too good to be true. Too handsome and mysterious, the deadly combination to any woman’s common sense. What if he left her there and went for a walk and never came back? Nah, he wouldn’t. “You came prepared.”
“It’s a wedding,” he said, and flashed her a boyish smile that seemed so unlike him. “One needs ties for the festivities.” Then, his smile faded as quickly as it came, and a gleam of concern sparked in his eyes. “If you’re uncomfortable about it, just say stop and I will,” he said matter-of-factly.
She wanted to touch him, to feel the hair dusting his chest, to kiss his taut nipples and to lust over that gorgeous abdomen that could belong to an MMA fighter.
“Should I expect you to bring anything else from your bag of tools?”
He shook his head. “Don’t worry, there’s no secret bag of tricks. I’ll just tie you up and fuck you until we’re both spent.”
“Okay. I’m good,” she said, nodding at him. Why not? Heat coiled low in her stomach. Look who’s not half-assing now.
She lifted her arms, and he placed them above her head then knotted the tie around them. Acting on instinct, she tried to move her wrists when he finished, but he’d done a pretty good job restraining her. Reading her mind, he tugged at it as if to make sure she couldn’t get out easily.
He leaned over her, his body covering hers. She moaned, wrapped in the warmth of his skin, the clean soap scent swirling into her nostrils. If there ever existed a guy that would be too much man for her, Jaeger would be it. But, damn it, she’d have him even if only temporarily.
His magnificent cock poked against her belly, and she squirmed. He’d been right—she’d have wanted to touch, kiss, and lick him to no end. And she promised herself she would. Maybe not yet…but he’d come around.
Jaeger lowered his lips to hers, and she offered him no resistance. She opened her mouth, giving him complete access. He engaged her in the most thrilling, relentless, exciting kiss she’d ever experienced. She squirmed under his weight, desperate to slide down the linens so his cock would magically fall into her sex and she’d have him inside her. God. What had she turned into?
“Jaeger, please. Por favor.”
“Not yet, beautiful,” he whispered against her lips, the words as delicate as if she were made of breakable material. Nipping her lower lip until it released with a pop, he continued. “I’ll give you release when my cock is buried deep inside you.”
“Yes.”
He continued to kiss her, the strokes of his tongue growing hungrier, more powerful. She matched his urgency, her legs moving restless under his. Thankfully, he glided one of his hands on her body until it nudged her thighs apart. She caught a whiff of the scent of her arousal, and her cheeks and neck reddened.
His finger split her soaked folds apart, the pad brushing against her sensitive skin. Her clit throbbed, and he started to play with it, teasing the nub with his thumb. Strands of compressed pleasure built in her core, and she groaned. He added another finger, this time thrusting in and out of her with such intensity she felt tears brimming at the corner of her eyes. Soon the release hit her and spasms rode her body, matching the rhythms of his fingers.
She was barely recovering, her breathing coming back to normal when he stopped kissing her and slid down the bed until his head nestled between her legs. Without warning, he began to lick her pussy, suckling, his tongue swirling and exploring her folds. An ache sizzled within her. She wanted to touch him, to pull his hair, to give him what he had so awesomely given her.
She didn’t expect desire to stir again in her core so soon after orgasming. Yet an electric current charged through her, and she had no say in the matter. Jaeger kissed her, his hands trailing a pattern up and down her thighs as he devoured her.
Within minutes, the vortex of another climax claimed her, and she contracted her inner muscles one last time and let herself go as pleasure overpowered her. She realized no matter what happened she’d never forget tonight. She’d never forget this man, and she had herself to blame for it.
…
“Don’t move,” Jaeger said.
If the look of bliss on her face was anything to go by, she was still experiencing post-orgasm joy. He eased off the bed and grabbed the condom he’d placed on the nightstand. Ever since losing Ellen, he’d only been able to have sex while his partner didn’t touch him. This way, he was in control. This way, nothing unexpected—like distracting emotions that could bring unwanted consequences—would take place.
His strategy for survival had been to keep every aspect of his life in an orderly fashion, sex included. When he’d pleasured her in the pool house, she’d touched his hair, squeezed his shoulders, and ran her fingers across his jaw. If he allowed the same liberties during sex, lines would be blurred. If he made an exception for her, there would be no going back. And he couldn’t think of a happy future. A future he didn’t deserve—a future that could put her own safety in jeopardy. He hadn’t been able to save his family.
“Trust me, even if I wanted to move, my legs wouldn’t let me.”
He winked at her. “We’d better work on your endurance, then.”
“I’ll do my best.”
He ripped the foil packet open. His cock throbbed, and he sheathed himself. She watched his every move, and he almost wished he couldn’t see her. Focusing on dodging her hungry stare proved difficult. So far Camila had been the most vibrant, lovely, responsive woman he’d been with—how much hotter would she be if she could touch him, tease him the way he had done her?
He shook his head. It couldn’t happen.
He covered her with his body to keep stupid thoughts away. She lifted her head to kiss him, and he teased her, ducking away when her lips brushed his and a powerful surge came alive inside him. She slipped out her tongue, and for a second he lowered himself and allowed her to trace his lip. A shiver bolted through his spine, and he growled. Shit.
He captured her lips into a punishing kiss, hoping to overwhelm her as much as he was, but if she experienced it, she hid it well. She responded with passion, her tongue swirling against his, her teeth grazing his lips.
He rubbed the tip of his cock into her sex, desperate to plunge into her but resolute in not hurting her.
“Yes,” she said, giving him the permission he needed.
Maybe later they could stretch foreplay for much longer. All he wanted now was to screw her hot and fast, to keep whatever oxygen was left in his brain. His balls tingled, heavy and full.
“If you don’t get inside me, I’ll hurt you,” she said. “I may not have your training, but I’ll make it happen one way or another.”
He chuckled. When had been the last time he laughed naked? “I know you will.” He kissed her forehead, his nose rubbing lazily against her hairline.
He thrust into her, carefully. Her face contracted for a moment, and he held out the last two inches. “Are you okay?” he asked, sure he was stretching her to the max.
“Yes. Keep going.” She lifted her head and kissed his cheek, the act disarming him and spilling warm goo into his veins.
Encouraged, he plunged his entire cock inside her and groaned. Her sweet walls—he knew it because he’d just tasted them—clung to him tightly, her inner muscles throbbing around his dick. He pumped into her, in and out, as she wrapped her legs around his ass.
When she did that, his entire body seared. And he quickly disengaged from her, flipping her on the bed before she could gasp. She murmured something in Portuguese he couldn’t quite register, but it sounded positive and reassuring. He pushed her head down on the pillow and nudged her thighs apart a bit. He touched her clit, and wetness dripped from his fingers.
Pre-cum bubbled on his tip, and he sucked in a breath. Slowing down was not an option. He plummeted into her, her loud moan filling the space. Unable to control himself, he thrust all the way to the hilt. Each time he withdrew his cock a bit, he slammed back harder, deeper, faster until he let out a grunt and spilled himself into her.
“So why don’t you like to be touched?” Camila asked, a good ten minutes after he untied her. “You never gave me a good reason.”
Jaeger scratched his head and sat on the bed. He never kept the same lover long enough for them to analyze him. If they questioned his preferences, he bolted. Unfortunately for him, he couldn’t run this time. But that didn’t mean he enjoyed amateur therapy sessions. “You didn’t enjoy it?”
She looked up to him, still propping herself on her elbows. She pushed up the sheets to cover herself, and he appreciated her modesty. You didn’t find much of it in this world anymore, particularly after what they’d just done. “Three orgasms say I did. But is that your usual routine?”
He nodded. If she thought him a perv and didn’t want to screw anymore, it would be a blessing in disguise and a clean end to what was clearly a mistake on his part. How much longer would they pull off an affair anyway? “Touching during sex brings out emotions, feelings that can mess up my common sense. ”
She rolled on the bed with a sigh, and the sheet followed, but got stuck and her beautiful, smooth back was bared for his enjoyment. “That’s probably the least sexy thing I’ve heard after sex. My vagina just dried up.”
He bit back a smile. He’d never said he was perfect, had he? “I’m sure I can find a way to change that quickly.” He stroked her arm, his finger lazily sliding down her flesh. He noticed a path of goose bumps raising on her skin and couldn’t help to feel proud of himself for making her that way.
She shook her head and jerked her arm away, scooting on the bed so they still faced each other, but he’d have to reach a little bit farther to touch her. Smart move. “Hands off, IMP.”
“IMP?”
“International Man of Pleasure. Suits you.” She winked. “Anyway, I want to improve your pillow talk.”
“Trying to teach an old dog new tricks?”
She chuckled, the features of her face softening again. “Don’t talk like you’re a character from Downton Abbey. You’re just ten years older than me.” She wrapped herself with the sheet as if to ensure he wouldn’t try anything. Oh crap. He’d taken a beating or two during his NYPD days, and something told him they were easier to deal with than the survey the gorgeous Brazilian was about to run.
“I’ve seen a lot in those ten years.”
“Good. Maybe you can use your experience to figure out why your personal communication skills are lacking, and don’t say it’s because you excel at a different kind of communication,” she said, making clear he couldn’t condescend his way out of this chat.
“I was an only child; my parents were much older. I was always the quiet kid,” he said, remembering with a tad of nostalgia the lovely Sundays his doting mother would cook them lasagna. Her pasta was wonderful, but because Aunt Gesa always chatted with her while she baked her homemade garlic bread, it always burned a bit on the edges. His father would never mention the black crust, instead settling for winking at Jaeger like they had a special secret.
“And when they named you they weren’t counting on you being an international man of pleasure, er, I mean, mystery?”
What was it with the James Bond references? “No. My father was German. I don’t think he watched a lot of those movies.” He would have enjoyed them, but Lars Bauer had always been far too busy providing for his family and a better future than for self-indulgence.
“Why did he move to the United States?”
His shoulders relaxed as the images of his father teasing his mother flooded his mind. For the second time tonight he thought of them, which surprised him. Not because he didn’t remember his parents, but life had a way of taking a bit of them from him. Or maybe he’d decided it was easier that way. “He wanted to flee WWII, so that’s why he brought my mom and her sister, Aunt Gesa, here. It wasn’t easy in the beginning…maybe that’s why they waited a while to have me. They wanted to make sure everything was good. They ended up owning a little delicatessen in Queens.”
“Do you miss them?”
Yes. “How do you know they’re deceased?” How much exactly had Aunt Gesa told Camila about his life?
“Your voice…there’s a tenderness to it.”
Tenderness—the type of soft, sweet word that set off an alarm inside of him. “If you say so. We should go to sleep.”
“Okay,” she said, yawning on cue. She grabbed a couple of pillows and arranged them to her liking. When she handed him a third one, he took it but didn’t lie down with her.
He took a deep breath and slid out of the bed. “I’ll take the sofa.”
She frowned. “Seriously?”
“Yes,” he said quickly, almost expecting her to try to convince him otherwise. He headed for the dresser and grabbed some extra sheets, tossing them on the sofa along with the pillow.
“Your loss. If you change your mind, I’ll be here. Good night,” she said, and flicked off the lamp.