The Specialist Page 10

  “Tell me you have a condom,” she all but whimpered, realizing for the first time that she didn’t. She wrapped her hand around his dick and worked the slippery skin against her palm. Silk over steel.

  Payne winced with pleasure. “In. My. Wallet.”

  Emma snagged his jeans and threw them toward him. “Get it,” she ordered, mesmerized and focused on the part of him she wanted the most. Between her legs. “I’m playing.” Then she bent her head and pulled as much of him as she could into her mouth. Smooth as satin, he felt wonderful beneath her tongue.

  Payne bucked beneath her and his thighs tensed. “Woman,” he growled, seemingly startled.

  Still tasting him—licking, laving and loving every inch of him—she looked up, his pulsing dick in her mouth, and her gaze tangled with his. Blue fire burned from his gaze, emboldening her even more. She ran her tongue over the engorged head, sucked up the bead of moisture leaking from there and smiled at him. “What?”

  A broken chuckle bubbled up Payne’s throat and he tossed the condom toward her. “Here.”

  Emma tore into the little package, pulled the condom out, then licked him again just for good measure. She heard him growl, and the masculine sound sizzled through her. “It’ll go on easier if it’s wet.”

  She swiftly rolled it into place, then settled herself on top of him. That first image she’d had of riding him flashed through her mind, drawing a smile as she slid her drenched sex over him, coating him in her own juices. The head of his penis bumped her aching clit, making her breath hitch in her throat. Reading her, Payne grasped her hips and bumped her again.

  Emma pushed harder against him, braced her hands on his chest and absorbed the feeling. God, he was breathtaking. Hands down the most beautiful, sexy man she’d ever seen. And he was at her mercy, allowing her to dominate when she was certain he wanted to roll her over and take control. It was what he was accustomed to, after all, she thought, practically drunk with the power she evidently had over him.

  She scored his chest with her nails, then lifted her hips and impaled herself upon him. Her vision blackened around the edges and her belly deflated in a whoosh of startled air. Sweet heaven, Emma thought, as indescribable pleasure bolted through her.

  Payne’s lips peeled back from his teeth and, though it could have only been her imagination, she thought she heard his teeth crack. He flexed beneath her and she could tell that he was holding back, that he was afraid he would hurt her.

  “You’re so tiny,” he said, confirming her thoughts.

  Emma lifted her hips once more, then slid down the length of him, savoring every inch, every vibration between their joined bodies. “Don’t baby me,” she said, upping the tempo, riding him harder, the way she’d wanted to since the first moment she laid eyes on him. “It’s insulting.”

  A flash of respect lit those blue-flame eyes and then a wicked smile caught the corner of his mouth. “Sorry,” he said. “I’ll—” He caught her rhythm, then bent forward and caught her nipple deep into his mouth “—try not to offend you.”

  Emma laughed, feeling the first spark of climax ripen in her sex. She tightened her feminine muscles around him, pumped harder and harder, creating a delicious drag and draw between their bodies. Evidently realizing that she was skating the edge of a violent orgasm, he bucked beneath her, then reached between them and massaged her clit.

  She shattered.

  Emma’s mouth opened in a soundless scream and her body bowed from the shock of release. So weak she couldn’t move, Payne kept up the tempo beneath her, and every thrust of him deep inside her intensified the contractions.

  She collapsed on top of him, certain that she would never be able to move again, and it was at that precise moment that he flipped her over onto her belly, dragged her hips off the mattress and plowed into her from behind. Emma gasped, her body instinctively priming for him again. He pumped harder and harder, his heavy testicles slapping against her aching flesh. It was raw and savage and thrilling and she wanted him to do it to her all night. She grunted and mewled, backed against him as he dove deeper into her body.

  He made masculine sounds of pleasure, and she could feel him getting closer and closer to his own release. Impossibly, he seemed to grow even more inside of her and every hot, electrifying inch magnified her own pleasure. Whoever said size didn’t matter had never had sex with a man like Brian Payne, Emma decided. Her body made only enough room to hold him tightly and she wanted him to stay there, to remain lodged deep inside of her until the world stopped or time ended. She didn’t care. He filled her up so completely she didn’t think she’d ever feel empty again.

  His arm tightened like a band around her belly and she felt him tense behind her. He made a deep growling noise low in his throat and pumped wildly, in and out, in and out, until suddenly, without warning, she came again. The tide of release pulled her under, then lifted her up. She screamed his name and floated along the waves of bliss.

  Her orgasm triggered his own and she felt him seat himself firmly inside of her. He held on to her, grew still as the climax tore through his loins and pulsed inside of her. She felt the warmth of his seed pool in the end of the condom against her womb. The heat detonated another little sparkler of pleasure and she instinctively tightened around him.

  Payne kissed the middle of her back, made a grunt of pleasure, then carefully withdrew. He grabbed a tissue from the nightstand and discarded the condom, then breathing heavily, pulled her against his side.

  Her gaze tangled with his and she smiled, unable to help herself. Things had just gotten a lot more complicated, but at the moment she didn’t give a damn. She was skating the high of amazing sex and Payne was looking at her with a bewildered, heavy-lidded steamy gaze that made her heart do an odd little figure eight.

  “That was—”

  “Incredible,” Payne finished.

  “I can come up with my own adjectives, thank you very much,” Emma told him.

  “Shut up.”

  “What?”

  “Shut up. If you talk, we’ll fight and—” he laid an arm over his eyes and chuckled softly “—I don’t have the strength at the moment to tangle with you.”

  So she’d worn him out. Immensely pleased with herself, Emma snuggled against his chest and let go a small sigh. Fatigue dragged at her lids. “Fine,” she relented with a yawn. “We’ll call another truce. But…just a short…one.”

  Payne breathed into her hair. “I can be cordial if I put my mind to it.”

  She smiled against his chest and fell asleep.

  PAYNE CAME AWAKE with a violent jolt. Dressed in a robe, her hair wet—evidently from a shower—Emma stood over him. “Sorry,” she said. “I shouldn’t have poked you so hard, but I couldn’t get you to wake up. Shouldn’t you be getting to your room now?”

  Poked him? Getting to his room? Disoriented, Payne glanced around the room, realized it wasn’t his and a fraction of a second later—long enough for his face to heat—everything came rushing back to him. The meal, the sex. Emma’s hot little body astride his, her plump naked breasts, her body absorbing the force of his thrusts, not to mention the most powerful orgasm he’d ever experienced in his life. His dick stirred, just thinking about it.

  The last thing he remembered was pulling her to his side, telling her to shut up, and then drifting off to sleep. That he’d fallen asleep at all was astonishing—he’d never actually slept with another person—but that he’d fallen into a deep enough sleep to miss her getting out of the bed, taking a shower, then having to actually poke him to wake him up…

  That was out of the realm of his immediate understanding and so far out of character, Payne wondered if he’d been possessed or had begun to suffer from multiple personality disorder.

  Furthermore, it was humiliating.

  He looked up and his bleary gaze connected with her expectant one. She stood over him, patiently waiting for him to get out of her bed and go to his own room. She’d had her fun and was kicking him out, sendi
ng him on his way as though he were a toy she’d grown weary of playing with. If he hadn’t been so damned mortified, he’d be pissed. As it was, he had no one to blame but himself. When you’re dumb you gotta be tough. He levered up into a sitting position.

  “I’ve gathered your clothes,” she said, indicating the neat pile in the chair.

  How sweet of her, Payne thought. Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry? He stood and had the privilege of watching those deep blue eyes of hers darken with appreciation as he strolled naked across the room. She might want him to leave, but at least she still wanted him. She was still affected by him, much the same way he was by her, and he hadn’t imagined or dreamed the wild, fantastic gorilla sex they’d just had. Considering the iffy state of his mind, he hadn’t ruled out the possibility.

  Payne slipped his boxers back on, but didn’t bother to don the rest of his clothes. What was the point? He needed to shower before he could go to bed, and—His gaze slid to hers as a thought struck. The last time he’d showered, she’d taken off and he’d spent an inordinate amount of time looking for her. Was that her plan now? Payne wondered. Is that why she was so matter-of-factly suggesting that he go to his own room? So that she could wait for him to get in the shower and then give him the slip again?

  He glanced at the clock—four-thirty. It certainly wasn’t out of the realm of possibility. She’d rolled out by five-thirty yesterday morning. In fact, if he was to walk across the hall and get into the shower, that gave her just enough time to finish getting dressed—she’d had her bath, after all, the efficient wench—grab a bite to eat and make her escape.

  He toyed with the idea of taking her again, but realized he’d only carried one condom with him and they’d used it. He made a mental note to stop by the drugstore at some point today and buy a box. His broody gaze drifted over her, lingered along the smooth curve of her cheek, her plump suckable lips. She wore a pink chenille robe which was easily a size too big because several inches of the hem dragged along the ground and a soft tropical scent flavored the air. She smelled like coconut and pineapple, fresh and ripe and ready to eat.

  She’d eaten him, he remembered—vividly. Honestly, watching her mouth close over his dick, her tongue dart out and capture the single bead he’d allowed to leak out and then watching the audacious creature look up at him from between his legs had to be the singular most sexy thing he’d ever seen. She was bold and confident and fearless and she made love with the kind of animalistic abandon that most guys only dreamed about, but never got to experience.

  Emma Langsford was one of those rare individuals who did nothing in half measures. Whatever she set her mind to held her full attention and she enthusiastically tackled everything with the same driven fervor. No wonder Hastings had sent her here, Payne thought. He knew his own worth, knew that he was cool-headed, methodical and focused. But she was…ruthless, in a good way.

  Nevertheless, he had no intention of letting her get away from him this morning and if she thought to knock him off his game by throwing him out, then she’d better think again. Payne gathered his things and sidled over to the door, where she was waiting for him. Rather than stating the obvious—that making love to her had been beyond amazing—he lowered his head and brushed a kiss on her forehead. “Enemies again?” he asked.

  “Opponents,” Emma clarified, her voice oddly strangled. “We’re opponents.”

  Semantics, he supposed, but he preferred her term to his as well. Enemies suggested that they had nothing in common, that they couldn’t get along. They’d proven without a doubt last night that they not only could get along, but they could do it splendidly.

  Payne nodded and walked out into the hall. “I’ll see you at breakfast.”

  Her gaze tangled with his and a small smile played over her lips. “Don’t count on it.” And with that parting shot, she closed the door.

  Oh, but he would, Payne thought. She wouldn’t get out of here this morning before he was damned good and ready for her to go. Just because he normally didn’t break the rules didn’t mean he was opposed to bending them himself when the need arose.

  And now would be a good time for her to learn that.

  11

  “THAT SNEAKY BASTARD,” Emma muttered, staring at Payne’s Bug.

  Last night it had been parked beside her Hummer—this morning it was parked behind it.

  Unless she wanted to back over it—which was heartily tempting—she had no way of getting out of the parking lot, much less getting away from him. She resisted the childish urge to stamp her foot and swallowed the frustrated scream that automatically rose in her throat.

  She should have anticipated something like this, but frankly, she wouldn’t have thought that he’d stoop to such a sneaky, underhanded crafty trick. It was more her style, she thought, reluctantly impressed.

  When had he done this? she wondered, glaring at the car as though she could move it with the force of her gaze. Certainly it couldn’t have been last night—he’d been with her. Her body did a little meltdown, remembering. Before dinner then? She didn’t think so. Someone would have noticed and said something about it. No, it had to have been this morning.

  Then it hit her.

  He must have turned on his shower, then left it running while he sneaked downstairs and moved the car. She hadn’t heard the motor start, but then she doubted that she would have, because she hadn’t been listening for it. She’d been too busy scurrying around, trying to finish getting ready to pay attention to any noise other than his shower, which she’d noted had taken an especially long time. In fact, it had still been running when she’d hurried downstairs. In retrospect, that should have tipped her off. Payne was too efficient to linger in the shower.

  Before completely giving up, she checked the doors to the vehicle and swore when she found them both locked. If he hadn’t locked them, she could have popped it out of gear and rolled the damned thing out of her way. As it was, she was stuck.

  And she was fuming.

  Muttering a string of curse words which would have made her mother head for a bar of soap, Emma strode back into the house. She made an unnecessary trip upstairs to look for Payne in his room, then backtracked downstairs once more and found him in the dining room.

  His hair still damp, he looked up at her and smiled as she stomped toward his table. “You’re joining me for breakfast?”

  “No. I’m joining you at your car. Come move it,” she ground out.

  Looking slightly smug, Payne calmly slathered butter over his hotcakes. “I will when I’m ready to leave.”

  “Do it now.”

  “You should really try some of these,” he said, ignoring her order. “They’re fabulous. I missed breakfast yesterday,” he remarked casually, though there was an edge to his voice that made her skin prickle.

  An implied “because of you” hung between them.

  Emma felt her cheeks pinken. “Could you please just move your damned car?” she pleaded. “I have things to do.”

  Payne looked up and his cool gaze tangled with hers. “I know that,” he explained patiently, “because we’re doing the same thing. I thought today we should go together.”

  Emma felt her jaw drop. “Go together? Have you lost your mind?”

  He selected a piece of bacon. “It saves me the time of having to find you.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest and chewed the inside of her cheek to keep from screaming. “Here’s a thought,” she said, practically firing the words at him. “Why don’t you stop trying to find me and start looking for the damned pocketwatch,” she said shrilly.

  This was completely counterproductive, and definitely not part of her plan, but for some reason she’d lost sight of that. It was probably because now, if he was near her, she knew she’d want to have sex with him. And, after last night, she grimly suspected she wouldn’t be choosy about where. The Hummer, the Bug, the antique malls, the side of the building. It didn’t matter. He had that kind of effect on her. She became m
indless and stupid and desperate and the thought of having that big, hard body of his pumping in and out of hers made her belly and thighs clench and her sex tingle and slicken.

  “Why don’t you sit down and have some breakfast?” Payne countered. “It’s the most important meal of the day.”

  “I’m not here for a lecture on nutrition, Payne,” she snapped. “I’m here to find that pocketwatch before you do. Just because we had sex last night doesn’t mean that anything has changed.”

  “I figured that out when you threw me out this morning,” he drawled, shooting her a cool look. “But for the record, I never expected it to.”

  Emma inwardly squirmed, not altogether proud of herself for waking him up and sending him on his way. Brian Payne awake was formidable and thrilling—Brian Payne asleep and vulnerable was somehow more so.

  Emma had stood next to the bed and traced the beautiful landscape of his face, the straight line of his nose, the angled curve of his jaw and those amazingly perfect lips. She’d been strangely awed by the soft patch of skin next to his eyes, the soft, sweet curl of the little hairs behind his ears. Her stomach had felt queasy and a weird pang had squeezed her chest, one that was almost too intense to bear because it smacked of a tender emotion which had no business between them.

  That’s when she’d poked him.

  She’d had to, or she would have crawled back into that bed with him and they would have made love again. And then they would have slept until noon and possibly never left the room. And as fantastic as that would have been, it wouldn’t have put her any closer to finding the pocketwatch and securing her future.