FIFTEEN
Crazy. Dangerous. Apt words for this situation, more than apt words for Remy. But Harper couldn’t stay away. Kenneth’s surprise visit had toggled something on in her brain. The man clearly wanted more, and here she was sitting on the fence, letting him think she would eventually come around.
She wouldn’t, not to Kenneth, so she needed to be straight with him. Straight with herself. What had Remy said to his nieces? God hates a coward. She was so tired of sublimating her desires, throwing herself into the team instead of taking something for herself. As Kenneth tried to persuade her to go to the bar, all she could think of were Remy’s words about how things would be different if they were different people. And then there were all those gloriously filthy things he wanted to do to her.
She thought she could withstand the sensual onslaught that was this man, but it turned out she was only human after all. She could no more deny herself this than stop her heart from beating. And she wanted it to beat in unison with Remy’s . . . while they got down and dirty.
“I need to see you properly,” she said. “Stand up.”
He stood, a tower of unrepentant masculinity, unclothed and unabashed. Seeing him rush out his door naked, his fear of her leaving overriding his worry about public decency, she had almost collapsed in a puddle of lust. And now? His absolute beauty awed her. Every ridge defined. Every muscle hard earned.
As her gaze moved south, she swallowed.
Whoomp! There it is.
Though she’d felt him in her hands earlier, seeing the full package attached to this huge bear of a naked man gave her pause. He was big, both as big as and bigger than she expected. Something must have flickered in her expression, because he rested a finger under her chin and tilted her gaze to his.
“You okay, minou?”
A little stalling was in order. “Why do you call me that? Kitten?”
“Because I love that voice of yours. It’s a bombshell voice, the kind that makes a man itch to touch and rub himself all over the body it belongs to. When I heard you first, I thought ‘sex kitten,’ and I guess the name stuck.”
“I speak and you think of sex?”
“You exist and I think of sex.”
Holy whoa. Her eyes dipped to his cock, which was showing no signs whatsoever of flagging. Not that she wanted it to, but maybe if it was less brazen . . .
“Your sister said it meant something else.”
Another wicked grin. “Kitty or . . . pussy.”
“Oh.” Every time he’d said it, that was on his mind. And he’d said it a helluva lot of times.
“That’s not very appropriate.”
He lifted her off the bed by the upper arms and pulled her flush against him. All of him. “No, but then none of this is, now is it? It’s a little bit wrong and a whole lot forbidden. Let’s not pretend the taboo ain’t part of the rush.” He tilted his head. “Like I said, you can back out anytime . . . minou.”
He rolled his tongue over it, extra-Frenchifying it, making it sound as dirty as the word’s intent. Now that she knew what he meant by that seemingly innocuous endearment, she was a complete goner.
The two men she’d slept with in the past three years were slight in build, as far as you could possibly get from a powerful, muscled athlete. One of them had packed a peanut below his belt; the other guy’s enthusiasm didn’t quite make up for his lack of skill. After the disaster that was Stroger, she’d chosen with deliberation, careful to avoid men who could overwhelm her.
So much for that pattern, because Remy DuPre defined overwhelming. Every feminine sense flared, hyperaware of his blatant virility. Blood rushed hot and needy through her veins, neurons tingled in anticipation, and cells exploded from dullness to glitter.
“I’m not backing out, but it’s been a while and I’m—I’m out of practice.”
What if she was as frigid as Billy Stroger had accused her of? If she couldn’t live up to the bombshell–sex kitten voice? Remy moved his lips to the curve of her neck, raising gooseflesh in the trail of his kiss. “Fine by me. We can discover each other at a pace that’ll work for both of us. Now I assume your lack of practice is the only reason I’m naked and you’re still wearing clothes.”
“Clothes usually come off?” she teased, enjoying his humor as much as his touch. She’d never really considered sex fun, but with Remy she might emerge from this with a new worldview. “Is that how it’s done these days?”
He chuckled. “I’m not a ‘quickie with my pants on’ kind of guy. A night in my bed is usually sweaty, deep, and very hands-on.” He demonstrated hands-on by unzipping her Tory Burch dress, his finger pads touching each inch of skin he revealed. She felt like a treasure under his care. He slipped the dress off her shoulders and held her hand as she stepped out of it. She kicked off her comfy wedges.
“Next time, wear the heels, Harper. The ones you bought today.”
Next time. As this was a onetime event, it was easy to agree and at the same time make him just a little bit wild. “Heels and nothing else.”
He groaned and captured her mouth with his, stealing her nerves, mating his tongue with hers in a way she knew mirrored how it would feel with him moving deep inside her. Unlike this afternoon in that courtyard, she met his invasion with no resistance, just a ready acceptance. Within seconds she was lying on the bed in her demi-bra and satin thong with this huge hulk leaning over her. Remy’s cock pulsed against her thigh, though he remained on his knees, keeping his weight off her.
“You’re so tiny, minou,” he murmured, his ravenous gaze taking stock of her body clad in rose-blush lace. True, she was petite everywhere—small breasts, slim hips, an ass he could likely cover with one vast palm. Nothing bombshell about her figure, yet she felt so desirable while his eyes stoked fire all over her body. He followed up with his hands. First the side of her breast, then the flare of her hip. Coasting a palm over her ass, he squeezed, like he was assessing her ability to take him deep inside her.
As he continued his erotic scrutiny, his erection appeared to surge, growing inch by mouthwatering inch. It tapped against her thigh, demanding her attention.
“You know how I hate to give you any encouragement whatsoever, DuPre, but that cock of yours is . . .”
“Keep goin’.”
“Slightly above average.”
“ ‘Slightly’ ain’t a word ever used in the same sentence as my dick.” He notched in between her legs, the only barrier the satin shield of her panties, and stroked along every sensitive nerve ending.
“You were sayin’?”
She grasped for the power of speech. “I’m—I’m trying to tell you that it’s been a while. I’m going to be tight, and this concerns me.”
He stilled and gentled her jaw, holding her in place for his soul-searing gaze. “You understand that I’d never hurt you, baby?”
That’s not what she’d been angling for, but the moment he spoke, she realized that maybe she’d been pushing for some small assurance. Of course he wouldn’t hurt her. He was the perfect gentleman, a man with values and a devotion to his family, a guy who wanted to give himself 100 percent to a woman and his children further on down the road. And while all these things should have put her mind at ease, it was his soothing words she absorbed into her heart.
“Take my panties off, Remy. Now.”
She made a move to help, but he gently swatted her hands away. “I’ll take care of that. I’ll take care of you.”
Tears stung. Stupid, Harper. Stupid, stupid. Struck dumb, all she could do was nod and watch and anticipate as he unhooked her bra and threw it onto the floor. Here was the true test. She searched his face for disappointment.
His eyes darkened at the sight of her small breasts. Her Cajun werewolf growled.
“Très jolie.” Her nipples budded for him, straining to be sucked, and his mouth drew one to an even harder peak. Licks and sips spiraled her pleasure while he removed her panties. Multitasker? She loved that. His wicked mouth trailed down to her stomach, her belly, her hips. Nothing was beneath his interest.
“We’re going to take it slow,” he whispered against her core. “So no rushing me, oui?”
“Are you talking to me or my . . . uh, minou?”
“Tonight, this is where your brain is gonna be, Harper.” He heeled his hand over the neatly trimmed strip of hair between her thighs, spreading her wide, then dragged up in a dirty grind. The sensation of that rough palm was indescribable. “I get the impression you’re kind of bossy, and while we can work with that later, for now you’re gonna trust me to take care of your pleasure. No fightin’ me like you tried earlier today.”
“I’m—I’m not bossy.” I’m your boss. And how sharp of him to understand what was going through her mind in that courtyard.
His grin was devilish, his fingers positively fiendish as he set up a soft, tantalizing stroke through her hungry minou. Then he pulled them away.
She rolled her hips, chasing the sensation. “Nooo!”
“That’s what I mean. Impatient.” A slight brush of his thumb against her clit crossed several wires in her brain. The man was an outrageous tease. “By the time I’m finished, Harper, you’ll be begging my slightly above average cock to sink deep and give you what you need.”
“There’s always the chance I’ll fall asleep first.”
“Sarcasm won’t make me move faster.”
Both hands caressed her thighs and separated them. He watched her for an infernally long time as she slickened under his predatory gaze. Please. Oh, please.
The first touch of his tongue lifted her clear off the bed. She was levitating!
Strong hands pinned her hips while his mouth spared no expense in getting her primed. And those hands. So big, so coarse, so perfect against her sensitive skin. While his tongue explored all the ways to make her wet—dipping, licking, spearing, who knew there were so many?—his palms wandered over her slight frame. In no way voluptuous, she didn’t possess the body type men went wild for, but that didn’t seem to matter to Remy. His hands roved, finding curves she didn’t know existed, his appreciation reframing everything she’d thought about how her body could give and experience pleasure.
Ignoring her female needs had been necessary before, but tonight she would revel in the feeling of being wanted in this primal way. Tonight she would revel in Remy.
Remy loved eating a woman out.
He loved her taste, her sounds, that squirm she got in her hips that told him she was digging it as much as he was. Mostly he loved the power he felt coursing through his veins terminating in a steel-hard dick, the euphoric rush that lit up every cell like he’d just top-shelfed a goal in a big game. This mouth can take you places, chérie. This tongue can send you on a one-way trip to paradise. Making a woman feel so good boosted him up.
But tonight felt different. Seemed he’d been playing for the farm team this entire time.
He’d never met a woman who needed to be fucked as badly as Harper Chase. Who needed to be kissed thoroughly, eaten out professionally, and screwed so deep she couldn’t walk until playoff season. All that would happen; he just hadn’t reckoned on how his own limits would be tested.
Opening her up kiss by kiss, lick by lick, Remy was not only feasting on the sexiest woman he’d ever tasted, he was learning what made Harper tick. Knowing her as he did, he couldn’t help his awe at her coming to him. She was risking everything: her professional reputation, her ethical boundaries, that tough-girl mask she wore so well. And Remy loved unlocking her. Loved how every lick through her sweet, sweet minou had her panting his name and straining for more.
On the topic of straining . . . he was harder than a honeymoon dick. He’d never had problems waiting a woman out, but there was a real chance he was going to explode before she did, and the idea of that happening outside the snug confines of her tight body was a prospect he did not enjoy.
He needed in. He needed to feel that sweet suction, her orgasm milking him to release. But he’d also promised he’d take it slow.
Dilemma, table for one.
Lifting his head, he met her lust-stoked gaze. “Harper, I have to—” He licked his lips, needing one more hit of her taste. “Inside you. I need to be inside you.”
Could you eye roll and keep those same eyes heavy-lidded with lust? This woman proved that indeed you could. “Then stop talking about it, DuPre.”
Yes, boss. He grabbed a condom from the side table drawer, and when he turned back, the beautiful sight would have knocked him on his ass if he weren’t already lying down. Against the pillow, Harper, glorious Harper, her blond waves fanned out, her hand resting on the curve of her abdomen—and creeping lower.
“Not sure I can wait,” she whispered before stroking a finger through her glistening pussy. Holy fuck. Watching her part her folds, her swollen clit peeking out to say hello, almost undid him there and then.
“That’s right. Keep good ’n’ wet for me.” He secured the condom and, leaning up on one elbow, lay between her thighs. “I’ll go slow. I promise.”
Desire clouded her eyes as he nudged the broad head of his cock at her entrance. He rubbed a little, enjoying the sleek glide of the sensitive tip as it met all that feminine softness. He dropped a kiss on her parted lips, and running his tongue along the inside, drew a rusty moan. Then the irresistible pull of that spot where they were almost joined won out as they both stared at her fingertips working herself in hot, sultry strokes around his cock.
“Take it, Harper. Take it all.”
He could have done it. Notched, nudged, and plunged deep, but he wanted her to invite him inside her body, for this final decision to belong to her. Control was important to this woman, and he was happy to let her have it in this way that would bring them both higher.
One hand spread herself wide, and with the other, she gripped his cock and positioned it right where they both needed it. That wet heat sucked him in an inch, and then she was arching up and he was pushing in, and it was the hottest, sweetest fuck of his life before it had even started.
Two inches in and he thought his cock would explode. Three inches in and he thought he was going to die. Then this shit happened:
“Stop,” she whispered.
He stopped. His heart stopped. The whole damn world stopped.
She squeezed and gave an evil, your-cock-is-mine giggle.
He should never have answered the door.
“Remy, how long do you think—?”
“Harper!”
Chuckling, she cupped his jaw, drawing a fingertip in a sensuous line along his cheek, before kissing him softly. “Thank you.” And then she grasped his ass, locked her legs around his hips, and pulled him until he was buried to the hot hilt.
A loud groan echoed in the room, a heavenly chorus as the two of them became one at last.
“Jesus, that’s—” He had no words to describe exactly what that was. Sweat sheened on her forehead and her eyes fluttered to half-mast, drugged on the sensation they were creating. He needed to move, but he needed to ensure her pleasure first.
He dragged out a few inches then pumped again. Slow, rhythmically, each thrust making his mark and focused on one goal.
Making this woman his.
Somehow he was still able to form sentences. “You with me, Harper?”
“If I was any more with you, I’d be you. More, please. More.”
He raised his body and angled his thrusts so each return of his cock gave her the friction she needed.
“Yes! Oh, God, yes!”
But that wasn’t enough. He’d promised her a slow, sexy screw, and though it killed him a little, he whispered against her mouth, “Stop,” before he slipped out and rolled onto his back.
“Remy! What the hell?”
His cock throbbed and his balls felt as large as his ego, yet he had an unaccountable urge to laugh his head off. “I’m not as young as I once was, baby.”
She growled, setting off a vibration all over his body. “Do you need to take a break? Or maybe you’re expecting me to do all the work?”
“I’m expectin’ you to get that sweet ass over here and take what belongs to you.” He was feeling more energetic than he had in years, but he liked the idea of a little tit for tat—not to mention switching up the power dynamic.
“You’ve got some nerve, DuPre,” but she was laughing as she straddled him and held herself suspended over his body for a second. Then she sank down with a lusty moan.
Fucking A. “Now ride me, minou.”
Oh, she liked that. Mesmerized, he watched as the last flickers of hesitancy fled those glittering green eyes. She started to move, slipping up and down his cock, loving it with every inch of her soft, sexy body. Harper on top was wild, uninhibited, a queen demanding her due. Making it good for her made it perfect for him.
With each rock into her body, his heart beat faster and his brain cells disintegrated in clumps until he was a mindless mass of muscle and sinew and skin. The sexy, sweet talk devolved to urgent demands as their bodies figured out the only way this conversation could end.
“Là . . . juste là . . .”
“Good, so good . . .”
“Plus vite, ma belle . . .”
“Oh, God, oh, God, oh—”
At last she screamed, not for God, but for Remy as her orgasm gripped her along with his hardworking cock, which in all actuality should’ve been destroyed by now.
Good thing he came from hearty sixth-generation Acadian stock, because his people knew pleasure in all its forms. How to create it, appreciate it, take it as their right. And that he did, letting it pull him hard and deep, using Harper’s aftershocks to fuel a release so explosive he might have worried whether he’d recover in time to play tomorrow.
Except his boss would probably have something to say about that.
Wrung dry, his brain a lust-mush, he stayed lodged deep and pulled her down over his chest. He needed to feel the heat and heart of her close to his skin.
“Think you might’ve broken my dick.” Gently, he kissed her temple and enjoyed the soft flutter of her laugh against his neck. “You remember what I told you back in the Philly locker room?”
Her voice emerged passion-rusty. “That I’d better not welsh on our deal?”
“The other thing.”
“Oh, right. ‘I might sound like I spend my spare time spitballin’ from the rockin’ chair on my porch, but don’t let my accent fool you none. I’m not the kind of man you want for an enemy.’ ” She recited it with a yee-haw twang that earned her a gentle pinch on that cute ass of hers.
“Hey!”
He stroked her cheekbone, loving her postorgasm dishevelment. “What I said in that locker room was, this was gonna be fun.”
“When does this fun start, DuPre?” She grinned, and then they were kissing, deep and wet and sexy, having more fun than he could recall since he’d lost his virginity to Juliet Depuis in the St. Ignatius High art supplies room at the tender age of fifteen. And that had lasted all of fifty-four seconds.
“No regrets, minou?”
“Ask me tomorrow.” She slipped off him, and he held on to every sensation to store away for later.
Ten seconds was all it took to dispose of the condom in the bathroom. Harper used at least seven of those to sit up and reach for her panties.
“Don’t even think about it, femme.”
“I should get back.”
He cut off that ridiculous argument by wrestling her back under the covers. Thankfully, she didn’t put up much of a fight. “I’ll accompany you on your walk of shame before sunup. But for the rest of this night, you’re mine.”
With a sigh of acquiescence, she melted into his body.