Pleasures of the Night

Her breath hissed out as he rubbed her lightly through her trousers, the barely-there pressure enough to make her wet, but not enough to satisfy. "Oh, Aidan…"



His grip became fierce, pulling her body taut against his, as if the sound of his name impassioned him.



"Next time," he muttered.



His fingers freed the button at her waist, lowered her zipper, and then he shoved her pants down roughly.



"Wh-what… ?"



"The bed. We won't make it."



He thrust his hand into the juncture between her legs.



"Oh shit." She clung to the knob for balance.



Aidan crowded her, his fingers parting her and then thrusting into her. His mouth to her ear, he whispered, "I'm going to take you, Lyssa. Right here. No holds barred."



Her knees buckled. If not for his fingers deep inside her, she would have sunk to the floor. "Do it."



She leaned heavily into the door as he began to fuck her with his fingers, fast and hard and not deep enough. His desire goaded hers, making it wild and out of control.



And he knew it.



"Spread your legs." His rough command made her shiver with anticipation, and when his hand left hers on the knob and rose to pinch her nipple through her shirt and bra, her moan was loud and pleading.



Bending her knee, she kicked free of one pants leg and set her foot on the threshold, which was raised a few inches higher than the garage floor. She spread herself shamelessly.



"Yes." She shivered violently when his two fingers withdrew and then he returned with three woven tightly together. He was fervent, but beneath that impatience was underlying reverence. All her doubts faded to insignificance. No man could touch a woman like this without caring for her, without knowing her and wanting to please her. The driving force was lust and base craving, but there was also desperation and neediness that came from a far more intimate place.



She could hear cars driving past her garage and distant voices—her neighbors talking, parents yelling, children playing. The active community she lived in was just a few feet away. She didn't care. She just wanted Aidan. Needed him.



"You're melting in my hand." His words were spoken against her skin, his lips nuzzling into her neck.



"I…" She nuzzled back. "Hurry."



Before she understood what was happening, he stepped back and spun her to face him. He stared down at her, blue eyes intensely searching. Then he caught her face in his hands and kissed her passionately.



No holds barred.



She was startled by this new side of him, unable to shake the feeling that Aidan did everything with iron-fisted control, even sex. But his actions now were far from controlled. He was ready to ride her to the finish, she could tell. And she wanted him to. Wanted him to lose himself in her.



Then he surprised her again by dropping to his knees.



Hooking her leg over his shoulder with shaking hands, he bared her to his gaze.



"So pretty," he said, his thumbs parting her. She knew what was coming before he licked her, but it still rocked her world.



"Oh!" She thrust her fingers through the dark silk of his hair and held on as his warm lips surrounded her clit. The rough pad of his tongue stroked back and forth across the sensitive bundle of nerves. His mouth was hot, the texture perfect, his skill evident. When he groaned against her and increased his rhythm, she bit her lower lip to keep silent. Then he tilted his head and thrust his tongue into her, and she gave up and cried out.



Aidan hummed his encouragement.



Lost to the pleasure, she rode his mouth, her hips undulating into the gentle, shallow stroking inside her that was driving her crazy. "Please," she begged, her hands dropping to his shoulders.



His every exhale burned her skin, the kneading of his fingertips on her hips made her tingle all over, the steady fucking of his tongue into her pussy made her mindless.



Clutching his arm for support, she moaned, "Please…"



He kissed upward to her clit, and her muscles tensed, preparing for the coming orgasm she wanted more than her next breath. When it came, the force of her climax nearly took her to her knees, but Aidan held her upright, his shoulders bulging beneath her palms, supporting her, not just physically but deep inside, his attention to her needs both reassuring and welcome.



When she slumped backward, Aidan stood and lifted her with amazing ease. She wrapped her legs around his hips and then shivered as their gazes locked together. There was no satisfied smile in his eyes or on his lips. There was only desire and a deep intensity, as if he was looking for something within her features.



"Take me," she whispered.



Holding her effortlessly with one hand beneath her buttocks, Aidan yanked his button fly free and shoved his garments low on his hips.



He gritted his teeth and pulled her down at the same time he surged upward. She twisted in his arms, the slick, swollen tissues inside her aching with the penetration. He was hard as a rock, thick and long.



His nostrils flared as he slid slowly from her in a heavy glide, only to thrust into her harshly, pinning her to the door.



Her toes curled. "Ah god, your cock…"



Wrapping her arms around his broad shoulders, she felt the dampness of the cotton that separated his steamy skin from hers. Beneath her fingertips, the muscles of his upper back were trembling. His knees bent again on a torturous withdrawal, then his ass clenched beneath her calves as he pumped back into her, filling her so full she gasped for breath.



She held on with what strength she had left. Aidan took her like a man possessed, riding her high and hard and deep. He growled on every plunge, his breath hissed on every retreat. Her lower back banged repeatedly into the door, the rhythmic sound unmistakable. Hard sex. She loved it, craved it, craved him. Just as he claimed to crave her.



Blood roared through her veins, muting her hearing, but gradually she recognized his voice, though the words were foreign and breathless. It was hot in the garage. Airless. Creating a sauna effect that heightened her arousal. She felt drugged, languid, though every cell in her body was finely attuned to the man who fucked her so well.



"Aidan." Her lips pressed his name against the sweat-slick skin of his neck, her fingertips slipping through the wet strands of his hair.



In response, he hugged her tightly, the tender embrace so at odds with his lower body, which battered her hips with the force of his lust, his cock shafting her cunt over and over again.



"Can't… I'm sorry," he bit out, just before he pressed her into the door and shuddered in orgasm, his thighs quaking beneath hers, his cock jerking inside her, his cum scalding with its heat.



Lyssa ground downward onto him, rubbing her clit against his pelvic bone, pushing herself into climax with him. They clung together, shuddered together, her nose pressed to his skin, breathing in the scent that was uniquely Aidan.



His heart pounded against her breast, his chest rose and fell as laboriously as hers, the sweat on his forehead mingled with hers.



Connected.



Aidan stepped out of the downstairs shower stall before Lyssa finished in the bath upstairs. He wrapped a towel around his waist and swiped a hand across the foggy mirror. The man who looked back at him—with a touch of fear in his eyes to go along with the determined set of his jaw—was not someone he knew.



He heaved out his breath and stepped into the hall. Tossing the towel in the laundry basket, Aidan tugged on the pajama bottoms he'd bought and then went to the kitchen to search for something to feed his Dreamer.



He'd discovered last night that Lyssa had the shopping sense of a bachelor. Beer, soda, leftovers, and sandwich stuff were the extent of her refrigerated stores. Iced rum, boxed meals, and ice cream made up her frozen items. Knowing better than to look in the fridge, he went straight to the pantry, where he knew pasta and various canned goods waited.



He was momentarily tempted to make SpaghettiOs again, but then decided to try his hand at something different. He pulled out a few things and set to work.



"Smells good," Lyssa said a little while later.



Aidan looked over his shoulder and smiled with contentment. Lyssa sat at the breakfast bar with her wet hair combed back into a ponytail and a thin-strapped satin top he suspected had matching bottoms. "Let's hope it tastes good, too."



Her lush mouth curved on one side in a half smile. Her bare shoulders were so pale and slight, reminding him of how tiny she was compared to him. He should have been more gentle with her earlier; he should have followed her into the house, let her bathe, then leisurely seduced her senses so that he could win her trust. Instead he'd sensed the distance and worry in her. Fear had goaded him to touch her, to remind her of how good they were together. Then she'd whimpered his name, his name, not a fantasy, not a warrior of legend. And he'd lost control. Again. He had been losing control since the night he'd first met her.



"Whatchya cooking?" she asked, craning her neck in an effort to look around him.



"Don't know," he replied honestly. Reaching over, he flipped open a cupboard door and removed two plates, "You don't have much in the way of nutrition around here."



"I take a multivitamin."



He snorted. "You're going to need a hell of a lot more than a multivitamin to keep up with me, Hot Stuff. I'll tell you that right now."



Scooping the contents of the pot onto the plates, Aidan turned and set her serving before her, then grabbed a fork and passed it over.



Lyssa stared at her plate with wide eyes. "What is this on the salad pasta?" She poked at the little tubes with the tines of her fork.



Aidan turned back around and looked at the can by the stovetop. "Chili."



"And the goopy yellow stuff?"



"Cheese."



"Sliced cheese?"



"Yeah." He shrugged. "The block cheese was moving, so I threw it out."



Her brows rose. Then she speared some pasta and gingerly placed it in her mouth.



He waited expectantly.



"Ummm…" she purred, her mouth full. She nodded.



"It's good?" He grabbed a spoon and ate with great relish. It wasn't the best meal he'd ever had, but it wasn't the worst, either.