Uncommon Pleasure Read Online Free Page A

naked and vulnerable she might call need, so she kicked out of her shoes as she reached for the hem, pulled the dress over her head, and dropped the fabric in a puddle beside her purse. His gaze swept her like a physical caress, from mouth to breasts to sex and down the length of her legs. With his hand between her shoulder blades he guided her to the bed. He braced the two thin, limp pillows upright against the headboard, then sat back and pulled her down to straddle his lap.
    The pace had slowed, the moment stretching between them like hot, soft taffy, so she reached for his shirt collar and fisted her hands in the fabric, popped the first mother-of-pearl snap on the shirt, slid her hands down and popped the next. He quirked an eyebrow at her as his hand stroked her thigh. The darker brow disappeared into the blond hair tumbling into his eyes.
    “I like to look, too,” she said, then released the next snap. Darkly tanned skin appeared in the widening gap. He wasn’t heavily muscled; there just wasn’t an ounce of fat on his body. As she unfastenedthe last snap and spread the fabric wide to expose his torso, smooth, flat pecs gave way to a delineated abdominal wall, the skin abruptly lightening just above a thicket of darker blond hair. His erection arced over his belly. Lethal power. This was no bodybuilder, playing around with weights and spotters and reps.
    “Oh my,” she said, her gaze focused on his cock. It wasn’t especially long, but it was thick. Very thick. Dark red.
    “Told you I wanted a woman.”
    The dark, blunt words sent lava pulsing through her veins to pool between her legs. A woman. A hot, wet, available body. Some analytical corner of her mind, still operating under the spell he was weaving, considered this.
Getting laid
implied an act. Simple release.
A woman
hinted at something else. He craved more than getting off. He wanted the dark dynamic of stripping a woman of her clothes and pushing his cock into her body. Using the slick, clinging grip of her pussy. Tonight, she was his to use. The thought sent sensation coursing through her. Despite the orgasm, the hot, dark scenario against the door wasn’t sex, and she had needs, too. She wanted a man, a dark, edgy, demanding man, inside her, and for a good, long time.
    He pulled his shaft back from his belly and, other hand on her hip, guided her up so she was centered over him. Then those dark brown eyes snared hers. “Been a while?”
    She nodded, straddling his big body, and waited for his cock to stretch the slick, anticipatory walls of her pussy. The waiting was torture of a completely different kind. Pressure, promise of a ride like she’d never had, made her shimmy.
    His hands tightened on her hips, holding her still. “Longer than four days.”
    This was another man entirely than the one she’d seen on the rig, and in the parking lot. She hadn’t expected him to be careful with her. Heat seared her skin, and her heart threatened to poundits way up her throat. Rather than answering she reached for his broad, heavy shoulders to support her weight, leaving her body exposed to his hands and eyes. He laid one big hand on her neck, idly caressing her pulse, pounding just under her jaw, while his melting chocolate gaze slid over her skin, striking sparks the trailing hands stroked into flames. He looked for a good, long time, making her wait, then he said, “Ride me. Slow. Just the tip. Don’t rush it.”
    Low, quiet, even-voiced commands, the tone of a man accustomed to authority. She set a slow, shallow pace while he slid his palms along her waist and up to cup her breasts. The rough scrape of his palms over her skin made her undulate, as there was nothing tentative or gentle about his grip. He squeezed the firm flesh, avoiding her nipples until she arched into his hands. A slow, firm pinch had her gasping, sinking a little lower on his cock.
    “Not so fast,” he growled.
    His words were faint against the blood roaring in her ears, lost