Page 59 of Heart of Danger
What she wanted could be read in her skin, in areas of heat he could read through some brand new sense that had suddenly blossomed into life. She was hot, glowing all over, with her breasts and the area between her thighs emitting an extra bright golden heat. She wanted him to touch her, right there. Touch her skin with his.
But—they still had some clothes on.
With shaking hands, he unzipped his jeans and they dropped to his boots but then decided getting her naked took precedence. He simply couldn’t stand not being able to touch her all over for even a second more.
He reached for the button of her slacks and missed, amazed at himself. He could defuse bombs with rock steady hands but here he was—fumbling at a button, taking a full minute to slip a little round of plastic through a hole, trying and failing to catch the zipper’s pull. What the fuck? His fingers felt big and clumsy, like robot fingers, barely in his control.
Mac was in control, always. Particularly with women. Most women agreed to fuck him on an implied understanding that he knew what he was doing, because sure as hell he had never landed a woman in his bed on the basis of his looks or his charm or his money. So he had taught himself control and smoothness. There hadn’t ever been a woman who could break that control.
Ah, but this wasn’t any woman. She was pure hot magic, probably a witch who’d cast a spell on him because this was way outside any experience of sex. Way outside any experience of anything, actually, with all this crazy shit about flitting in and out of her head, her body…
Ah! Pants undone, falling to her ankles together with panties, bunching around her boots. She glowed in the low light, there was no other word for it. Long, slender, strong legs, pale and smooth. An image of them tightly clasped around his waist nearly buckled his knees. He closed his eyes because looking at them made him harder than he had any right to be.
She gave a little sigh and he opened his eyes a fraction of an inch. She watched him out of those silver bright eyes and he wondered if she could feel the lust coming off him like steam. Sure she could. Even a normal woman would. He was holding her tightly against him, so tightly his stiff dick rubbed against her belly. She didn’t need to be a psychic to figure out what he wanted.
She looked down at herself. “I feel a little foolish standing here with my pants around my ankles. Maybe I should, um…you should?—”
“How do I get your boots and socks off without letting you go?” he whispered. He could barely get the words out given the heat steaming in his head. His hands wouldn’t open.
“You can’t.” Her push took him by surprise. In ordinary times, he’d barely register a push from a woman who weighed half what he did, but he was off balance anyway and he staggered just a little. Just enough to open his hands and let her go.
Catherine bent gracefully and in seconds unzipped her boots, slipped out of pants and panties and socks and oh dear sweet God, there she was, standing before him naked.
She was blindingly beautiful. He wanted to close his eyes because she was just too much but then he didn’t want to miss anything so he kept them open. Didn’t want to miss one inch of that creamy skin, the tender dips and hollows, slender shapely curves. Long slender neck, delicate collarbones. Narrow waist, smooth little belly, a soft cloud of dark hair between her thighs, the pale puffy lips of her sex peeking through. Her breasts—Jesus. Perfect. Milky white, soft, with pale pink nipples.
Her left breast shook slightly with the beating of her heart. He stared and saw her nipples become rosier and harden, just by him looking at her. She blushed suddenly, a rosy color reaching down to her pretty breasts and he felt it, felt a wave of heat move over him too.
He was frozen, eyes greedily taking in every smoothly perfect inch of her, his dick trying to reach out to her, when she made a small noise in her throat and waved a hand at him.
He looked down and besides his ridiculously swollen dick, weaving and bobbing with every heartbeat, obviously trying to reach out to her, he was hobbled by his jeans rumpled around the tops of his black combat boots.
He looked like a dork but when he lifted his eyes and saw the heat in hers, he didn’t give a fuck. In seconds, boots, socks, jeans were off and kicked to the side, Catherine was in his arms again and he was groaning with delight as every inch of the front part of his body touching her lit up like klieg lights.
Kissing her and kissing her and kissing her, he ran his hand down her back, blown away by the softness of her skin, by the feel of her sleek, smooth muscles, then down over her ass, down down…
He cupped her, waggled his hand. She obediently opened her legs and he slid a finger around, inside her. She was wet. She was small but wet and yes, he could do this. Because with all that his brain was blasted and he was burning up with the need to enter her, he didn’t want to hurt her. Not even a tiny bit.
Some women liked it rough and man, that was fine by him. Hot sweaty sex, pounding into the woman, yeah that had always worked for him.
But he was touching most of Catherine and he knew—not because she told him in words but because every cell in her body spoke to him—that she didn’t like rough sex. That she was relatively inexperienced. That she was turned on but that he had to be careful.
All that was in him, a part of him now, like his hands and his legs.
Later, though. He’d treat her real gently later because right now, he couldn’t breathe from wanting to be inside her and though he tried hard not to be rough he wasn’t gentle, either.
One hand under her ass and he lifted her. Naturally, like breathing, her legs opened, clasped him around the waist and just like that, he was in her and holy shit, it was like plugging his dick into an electrical socket.
Every hair on his body stood up. He stopped breathing, all his senses turned inward, concentrated on his dick tightly wedged inside Catherine Young and he shook with the intensity, his legs weak, ready to buckle, his dick swelling, swelling…
He exploded. He didn’t even know it was going to happen until he was flying apart, his entire backbone liquefying and pouring into her, taking his brains and what felt like most of his internal organs with it.
It went on and on, every muscle in his lower body pulled tight, straining, grinding into her while he held her so close to him he could feel her heart beat fast and wild against him as his hips tensed with every pulse of his dick. It took forever, so mind-blowing he lost the sense of himself as something separate from her, his entire being concentrated on where he touched her and particularly where he was buried deeply inside her.
At the last pulse, his head dropped down to her shoulder and he watched a bead of sweat, two, drip onto the smooth pale skin of her back.
He was strong.
He could travel a hundred miles in a day carrying a 120 pound rucksack. He could bench press 400 pounds.
