Wicked and Dangerous

“You will, and it’s hot that you want to. But to start, I think your active role should be to tell me what you like. For instance, you can tell me if you’d rather have your nipples caressed, pinched, or something else. Maybe you’re not even sensitive there, but we’ll find out. Then you can tell me if you like my mouth on your pussy, if you like to be kissed while I fuck you, or if you enjoy bondage.”



Rachel felt her eyes widen. And her body begin to overheat.



“Yes, we’re going to do all that and more.” He cupped her thigh. “You’re assuming I’m as inept as Owen. I promise, beautiful, that I won’t let you down. I know we just met a few hours ago, but I’m about to become your lover. If we’re going to make that work, you’ve got to trust me with your body or this is going nowhere.”



A really good point . . .



“It’s not that I don’t trust you.”



“Oh?” He grinned. “Well, if it’s not that, then you’re just naturally a control freak?”



She felt heat flood her cheeks. “I’ll . . . um, plead the fifth.”



With a lopsided smile, he stood, unfolding every inch of that mouthwateringly male body. The slightest inhalation made his abs ripple. His biceps flexed when he held out his hand to her. “Come with me.”



How the devil was she supposed to say no to that?



Rachel put her hand in his, and he squeezed it. “Lead the way.” Show me what to do.



He hesitated. “Is your bedroom down the hall?”



“Yes.” She smiled faintly. “I actually feel so comfortable with you that I’d forgotten you don’t know where anything is. Come with me, then you can take over.”



Decker linked their fingers, then bent to scoop up his pants. She led him past the darkened rooms lining the hallway, then into her shadowy bedroom. She debated flipping on the lamp sitting on her nightstand. Did he want to see her? Would he rather be in the dark?



“You’re thinking and not communicating,” he pointed out as he set the jeans aside and drew her into his arms, against him.



“One of the perils of being a teacher. I can’t say everything I think in a classroom.”



“I’ll bet.” He kissed her nose playfully, then her cheek, moving toward her ear. “Trust, remember?”



“Yeah. Got it.”



“You’re nervous.”



Why deny the obvious? “It’s been almost two years, since just before Owen and I separated.”



“A beautiful woman should be pleasured well and often. But I don’t think that’s the only issue. I make you nervous.”



He didn’t ask; he knew. “There were prettier girls at the bar.”



“No.” He shook his head. “There were easier girls at the bar. When you’re twenty-one, yeah, that’s great. A few drinks, a joke or two, and you’ll probably get lucky. By the time a guy is thirty, he’s looking for some substance along with a girl’s great rack. By then, he’s figured out that he likes a little conversation afterward, too.”



Rachel rolled her eyes, but felt a smile crease her face. “So how old are you?”



“Old enough to enjoy talking to you,” he drawled, nipping at her earlobe. “Later . . .”



Which probably meant he was over thirty. If not, he’d be with someone named Barbie or Tawny having much less conversation. But the answer didn’t really matter now, especially not when he brushed his lips over her throat. Goodness, that sent an electric shiver through her body.



“I don’t know anything about you,” she protested.



“Do you want to know my date of birth and blood type or do you want to know what I feel like when I’m fucking my way deep inside your aching pussy?”



FOUR



DECKER’S QUESTION TURNED HER SHIVER INTO A SHUDDER. Rachel’s breath caught. Heat slid through her. Blood rushed to her nipples. “Th-the latter.”



“That’s what I thought. We’ll talk soon about why you seem to want to analyze everything. It’s chemistry, beautiful. Let it burn.” He curled his fingers around the belt of her little silk robe and tugged. “Now I want to see those hard nipples all naked and ready for my mouth. Drop the robe.”



A thrill curled through her belly, even as hesitation strangled it. She ached to be everything he wanted. She wished she could be wanton enough to just enjoy the moment. But . . .



“What is it? Talk to me.” He cupped her cheek.



“I’m . . . lost. Owen never liked to be totally naked for sex. Too earthy for him.”



“What? Did he actually like sex?”



She shrugged. “Since he always had orgasms, I assumed he had a good time.”



“I’m not so sure.” He scoffed.



“Owen always wanted me to shower first, then come to bed dressed in something like this.” Rachel tugged on her robe.



Decker snorted. “Then he told you to get in bed, climbed on top of you in the dark, and the sex was over in three minutes before he told you to shower again and come to bed? A week or two later, he’d repeat the process?”



She gaped at him. “How did you guess?”



“I’m getting a picture here. No wonder you’re repressed and confused if you’ve never known anything else. What a douche bag.”



“He’s just . . . His brain revolves around science. He’s not really into ‘typical’ stuff. He hates TV, cocktail parties, shopping. He thinks romance is trite and—”



“Sex is a bodily function that should be performed in the minimum amount of time?”



“Something like that.”



“Then he didn’t care about your feelings.” Decker pressed flush against her, his erection a thick ridge prodding her belly, and took her face in his hands. “I’m going to show you how it should be. I’m not going to put my cock anywhere near your pussy until you’re dripping wet and beyond ready. That’s a promise.”



His wicked words made her fluttery inside, like a horde of butterflies were break dancing. “Thank you for understanding. Most guys would have given up long ago, I’ll bet.”



He stroked her cheek. “It’s just you and me. I don’t care what any other guy would do, especially Owen. So if you’re ready to move on and have sex instead of talking . . .”



As Decker yanked at the belt of her robe, she looked up at him through the shadows, then over at the little lamp on her nightstand.



He planted a hand in her hair and tugged. “Focus on me. If I want the lamp on, I’ll take care of it. Right now, I don’t give a damn about the setting. I care about pleasing you. I can’t do it if you’re half clothed and overthinking. You’re nervous. You don’t know me well. You’ve never done this with anyone who knows how to make you feel good. You’re having a hard time letting go. I get all that. But you’ve got to let me try.”



Rachel squeezed her eyes shut. Decker was utterly, totally right. She had to get out of her head and stop thinking about what she was used to. He’d shown her in every way that he wanted to be here with her, and had the experience and patience to give her pleasure.



With a nod, she shoved the lid on all her insecurities and worked the knot of her belt loose. She parted the silk a sliver, watching Decker watch her. He looked so sexy—intent male ready to conquer. His desire wrapped around her and caressed her skin. Her breath came hard, fast.



She peeled the robe from her shoulders. With only a whisper of sound, it slithered to the carpet beneath her feet. She stood before a man she hadn’t known when she’d eaten dinner tonight, wearing nothing more than a tiny pair of black panties. Only very damp lace separated him from her secret flesh. He stared, his blue eyes darkening with hunger in the shadowed room. A shiver of thrill went through her when she thought about his reaction to what he hadn’t yet seen.



“Fuck,” he muttered, lifting his hand to her. “You’re beyond beautiful.”



“Really?”



Shut up! Rachel cursed her own uncertainty. Owen had called her chubby and chided her for her love of Italian food and an occasional piece of chocolate. Decker seemed to like the way she was put together. His warm fingers cradled her breast, his thumb brushing so close to her nipple . . . She dragged in a shuddering breath as heat burned through her.



“Gorgeous. Voluptuous.” He bent and nuzzled her neck, pressing his lips to her. “So innocent looking. Every time you bat your lashes at me, I get hard. When I feel you tremble in my arms, it takes everything I have not to toss you to the bed and have my wicked way with you.”



His fingers tightened just a fraction on her breast before he cursed softly. Then he gripped her neck and positioned her directly under him as his lips crashed over hers. The sensation jolted her, an immediate zing of desire. Rachel melted against Decker and opened to him entirely, meeting every possessive thrust and teasing retreat. She whimpered into his kiss, wrapped her arms around his neck, all but purring at the feel of his hot skin plastered against her.



Then he backed her toward the bed, his persistent kiss flavored with impatience and demand. Already, he was unraveling her. Less than thirty seconds and Rachel felt herself turning to putty.



Arousal. She’d read about it, even felt little tremors of it when she self-pleasured. But Decker was unleashing an earthquake of need inside her. It was rocking her every notion about sex, along with her world.



He helped her onto the bed, his mouth still on hers as he crawled after her. His huge, hard body covered her own, blasting heat through her as he gently abraded her nipples with the fine hair across his chest. More dusted his legs, and as he pressed them against her inner thighs to open her wide for his invasion, the sensation was so foreign . . . amazing. Her vocabulary was almost inadequate to describe the awakening of every nerve and cell in her body, the tingling of her skin, the pounding of her heart, the rightness flowing through her body.



A year shy of thirty, and she’d never quite understood what it meant to be a woman taken by a man. As Decker ravaged her lips with yet another deep kiss, taking everything she gave while plying her with more pleasure, she began to grasp the concept. Pure sensation wrapped her up—and finally she comprehended just how two lovers shared sex. Heartbeats and breaths mingled as they touched palm-to-palm. They exchanged an entire wealth of longing with a stare, without uttering a word. And that was before they joined bodies.



How was it possible that she felt closer and more in tune with the stranger she’d met hours ago than the man she’d been married to for nearly four years?



Rachel didn’t know, but she was done questioning it. She bent her knees around his hips, letting him deeper into the cradle of her body, and held on for dear life as a joy way beyond pleasure flowed through her.



Decker’s rough palms skimmed down her side, anchoring his hand on her hip. “I want inside you so bad. But I want to show you what you’ve been missing more.”



She had almost no time to process what those shiver-worthy words meant before he worked his way down her body. His mouth hovered just above her nipples, his hot breath caressing them. The blood strained into the hard tips until they felt tight and tingly.



“Tell me what feels good so I can send you soaring.”



She gave him a shaky nod, raking her fingers through the inky strands of his dark hair. “All right.”



He didn’t waste any more time or words. Instead, Decker just fastened his lips around her left nipple. Soft, slow, sleek . . . the touch was part exploration, part torment. Rachel arched up into his mouth with a little cry of need.



“You like that?”



“Hmm . . . yes.”



Her hips moved restlessly, and she filtered her fingers through his hair again, reveling in its softness and wishing it was long enough to wrap in her fist and make him taste her nipple once more. Thankfully, she didn’t have to prompt him again to pay attention to her breasts. He lapped at their tips, nipped, teased . . . tormented. Every lick and suck became its own form of torture. Ecstasy. Agony. A need for more burst through her, igniting her blood.



Decker eased back for a moment and stared at her nipples unabashedly. Under his scrutiny, they seemed to fill and tighten even more, as if eager to display themselves for him.



“So damn pretty,” he whispered over the distended peak, thumbing the other. “So lush.”



Rachel whimpered. So ready for more . . .



“You feel it, don’t you?”



She nodded frantically.



“You’re wet for me, aren’t you?”



“Yes.” Almost embarrassingly so.



A smile creased his face. He turned to rub his whiskered cheek against her swelling breast, her sensitive nipple. The scratchy-soft abrasion added another level of sensation, and she arched, grabbing at him.



“Sensitive.” His voice rang with approval.



“I never thought so. I mean, I’ve never . . .”



“Responded to having your nipples stimulated?”