Just Toying Around… Read online

  Nick finally looked at her, smiled without humor. “For what? My being the butt of your joke? Or offering me as a sexual sacrifice to your editor?” He snorted. Passed a hand wearily over his face. “If I didn’t like you so much, I’d probably throttle you.”

  Ordinarily Meg would have lingered in the delight his liking her brought, but right now her outrage prevented her from enjoying the moment. She blinked, astounded. “Offering you as a sexual sacrifice? Is that what you think just happened?”

  “Well, isn’t it?”

  “No!”

  Nick’s brow creased skeptically. “You mean to tell me that you didn’t know he was gay?”

  “I, uh—” Meg faltered, unable to finish.

  His lips curled into a mockery of a smile. “I thought so. I knew you needed me to go and help you, but I never expected to double as the entertainment.”

  “I didn’t know he was gay,” Meg relented, feeling guilty for not sharing her suspicions. She’d prepared him for everything else—she should have prepared him for this as well. “I suspected,” she clarified. “But I didn’t know. Furthermore, you didn’t double as the entertainment. The whole situation was just so completely ludicrous, I couldn’t help but get tickled.”

  Nick’s snort of derision wasn’t encouraging.

  “I mean, I’d unwittingly asked a homophobic man to pose as my critique partner and graphically discuss sex toys with a gay man who happened to be my boss and who happened to be lusting after you, too.” She sucked in a breath. Chewed her lip. “How was I to know that Marcus Kent would be more interested in you than he would be in the male hetero opinion I’d been told he wanted? And by the time I suspected anything…it was too late. He’d already started hungrily stalking you around the suite.”

  Nick seemed to mull that over. He shuffled his feet, cleared his throat. “A gay man asked me about my erection. Hit on me. Do you know how disturbing that is?”

  “I imagine it’s very disturbing,” Meg conceded, virtually wilting with relief. His voice no longer sounded clipped and wounded. Just mildly outraged. Funny that she should find that adorable. “But if I were you, I’d be flattered.”

  Eyes wide, he swiveled to look at her. “Flattered?”

  “Yes. Of course.”

  “Flattered.” He expelled a disbelieving breath. “Go with it,” he told her, planting a hand on his hip. “I want to hear what sort of spin you’re going to put on this to make it sound better.”

  Meg shrugged, sidled closer to him. “It’s simple. You’re irresistible to both sexes. Of all the men traipsing through this hotel, Marcus set his discriminating sights on you.”

  “And that’s supposed to make me feel better? That he thought I swung his way, too?”

  Meg giggled. She couldn’t help it. “No, that he found you so attractive, he pursued you even though he thought you were straight.” She tiptoed and gently kissed his cheek. “And taken,” she murmured. Tiptoed and kissed his jaw. “And unbelievably irresistible.” Tiptoed and kissed the corner of his lips. “And I know exactly how he feels, because I haven’t been able to resist you from the start. I have a confession to make,” Meg told him. She lowered her voice. “I’m in lust with you.”

  His stony facade had begun to crack after the first kiss and crumbled away altogether with that last sentence. With a groan of defeat, Nick clamped his mouth hungrily over hers. Giddy with relief, Meg shuddered as his tongue swept past her teeth, plundered wildly. God, she loved the way he kissed. Hard, then soft, a sweep of his tongue, a dizzying suckle. She parlayed his every advance, countered each erotic move of his sinfully talented tongue with one of her own.

  She’d been waiting for this all night. Forever.

  Breathing heavily, Nick collapsed against the elevator wall and urgently molded her to him. His powerful arms banded around her, forcing a moan of delight between their joined mouths. A volcano of heat erupted in Meg’s belly, flowed determinedly to her womb. Her feminine folds slickened, her breasts plumped with want, grew heavy.

  In the dim recesses of her mind, Meg heard the soft tinkling of a bell. Almost like an internal timer, heralding the end of her time spent in a lonely bed.

  “We haf’a ge’roff th’ el’vator,” Nick murmured between their linked lips.

  Meg slid her hands beneath his dinner jacket, felt the muscles at the small of his back bunch with pleasure. “Wha’—?”

  Nick tore his mouth from hers, removed her hands from under his jacket. Breathing hard, he smiled crookedly. “We have to get off the elevator,” he repeated, his voice rough with desire. His eyes were dark and slumberous, so compelling Meg longed to launch herself back at his mouth.

  But he was right. They didn’t need to do it in the elevator.

  Yet.

  Nick threaded his fingers through hers, tugged her down the hall. In short order, he’d unlocked the door and guided her inside. They instantly groped for each other again. The door hadn’t even closed behind them before Nick backed her up against the wall in the foyer. His lips once again found hers, descended with unerring accuracy. He fed greedily at her mouth, lifted her up and anchored her around his hips. Those strong fingers kneaded her exposed thighs. Longing barbed through her, forced a cry of delight from her throat. A dull throb commenced between her thighs.

  Nick had left her mouth and began a thorough expedition down the side of her neck. “God, you taste good,” he murmured thickly.

  Meg clawed his coat from his shoulders, knocked it to the floor. She loosened his tie and urgently tugged his shirt from his waistband. Her palms itched to touch his skin, to feel those powerful muscles moving beneath her hands.

  Moving inside her.

  She’d never wanted anything more in her life than this moment with him. Meg frantically worked at the buttons on his shirt, cursed when she couldn’t release them from their closures.

  Nick chuckled at her impatience. Stilled her hands at his chest. “Hey, let’s slow this down a bit.”

  Meg bit back a wail of frustration. She’d waited too long for this to slow down now! “Let’s don’t and say we did.” Chest heaving like a bellows, she struggled with his shirt again. “Get naked.”

  He blinked, then burst out laughing. “You first.”

  Something came over Meg. Confidence sprang from some hidden internal well. Just like that night in the restaurant. She drew back, tossed him a wicked smile, and with an exaggerated swing of her hips started toward the bed. She turned to face him, watched him swallow as she reached behind her. The movement thrust her breasts against the sexy material and, given his swift intake of breath, he hadn’t failed to notice it.

  Her zipper whined as she quickly drew it down her back. Meg released the dress and the cool gauzy fabric whispered down her skin and puddled around her feet. She hadn’t worn a bra—only a thong. His heated gaze singed her.

  “Do you need any help with your shirt?” Meg asked, when he didn’t readily move. Hell, she hadn’t given him a you-can-look-but-don’t-touch order. She was ready…willing…

  His breath left him in a whoosh and he blinked as though coming out of a trance. He gave a curiously resigned sigh, as though he’d come to some sort of weighty decision, then he grasped the edges of his shirt and ripped it off. Buttons flew, ricocheted off the walls. “No.”

  Meg jumped, squealed with delight. “I guess not. Was that expensive?”

  He shucked his pants and briefs. “Who cares?”

  Meg barely had time to appreciate his incredible form again before he propelled himself toward her. They fell onto the bed amid laughter and giggles.

  “Now where were we?” Nick mused with a husky rumble, coming to rest alongside her. She felt small and protected. Cocooned.

  Hot.

  Meg’s lids fluttered closed. The decadent feel of his skin against hers was heavenly. Her breath shuddered out of her at the wholly intimate contact. Nick gently trailed a finger down the middle of her chest, stopped mere inches below her belly button. Then retrac
ed the sensitive path. He swirled a leisurely figure eight around her puckered breasts. A shiver shook her from the inside out, leaving a warm tingle in its wake.

  “Right about here, I’d say,” Meg replied. She cupped his jaw, slid her fingers into the hair at his temples and offered her lips up for another kiss. This one started out slow, with lazy, probing strokes of his tongue, long deep sucks at her mouth. Promises of things to come.

  But not quickly enough. Meg upped the tempo, ran her hands along the intriguingly ridged muscles of his abdomen. Lightly scored his skin with her nails and was gratified when his agonized hiss reached her ears.

  Her feminine muscles clenched, dewed more with anticipation, readying for him. She felt his hardened length nudge her hip and a frantic yearning cried from her womb.

  He wanted her, she knew it, and yet instead of surrendering control of the situation and letting pleasure lead them where it would, Nick still annoyingly attempted to maintain control.

  All this kissing was good, but she’d really like to move it along. She wanted it…her way…the way she’d dreamed it would be.

  The dirty talk had worked before.

  Meg drew back. “I want you to kiss me—” she circled her nipple with an index finger “—here.”

  His lids dropped to half-mast and his breath stuttered from his lungs. Then he smiled. It was one of those, Baby-you-don’t-know-what-you’ve-gotten-yourself-into smiles that held more male satisfaction, confidence and promise than humor, and absolutely thrilled Meg to her little toes.

  She had him.

  “Like this, I wonder,” he whispered. He leaned down and barely touched her nipple with the tip of his tongue.

  Meg gasped as little hot curls of pleasure looped through her.

  “Or like this?” He wrapped his lips around the sensitive peak and gently suckled.

  The curls of pleasure spun more tightly, tugged a reciprocating thread mysteriously attached to her sex. Her breath lodged in her throat.

  “Or like this, maybe?” This time he sucked hard, flattening the crown of her breast to the roof of his mouth.

  Meg’s body bowed off the sheet. Stars burst behind her lids as the pleasure burst into white-hot flames.

  He chuckled softly, knowingly, his warm breath breezing over her wet peak. “I thought so.”

  Then he did it again. And again. He squeezed her, licked her, fed at her until she thought she would quiver into nothingness. Dissolve into a puddle of pure want.

  Meg longed to explore him in turn, and quickly morphed that longing into action. If her nipples were this sensitive, it stood to reason his would be, too.

  She found one of the ruddy tips beneath his tawny masculine hair and gently plucked. He trembled and a low guttural moan rumbled from his throat.

  Gratified, Meg’s lips curled into a feline grin and she repeated the process. Ran her hands over the smooth yet delineated planes of his back. Her palms feasted on him, marveled at the latent power concealed behind supple sinew and solid masculine bone structure.

  To her immense delight, he’d begun a similar investigation. He palmed her breasts once more, weighed them carefully, slid a hand down the front of her belly, over her hip and dallied around her inner thigh. Renewed need kindled and burst into ravenous flame. Meg involuntarily arched, silently begging him to stroke the part of her which most longed for his attention.

  He didn’t.

  She whimpered.

  Instead, and to her further frustration, his fingers dipped to the sensitive skin behind her knee. Undoubtedly, he’d be at her ankles next. Meg resisted the impulse to wail.

  Maybe she just needed to show him. Meg shifted onto her side and rested one knee against his naked hip, opening herself up to him. Then she reached down and tentatively took him in her hand. Nick sucked in a harsh breath at the contact, and she felt him throb against her palm.

  Several impressions hit her at once—hot, hard, smooth and large.

  She’d never held a real live penis before—hell, she’d barely felt one the first time let alone held it—and this was a singularly intoxicating sensation. She’d known what to expect, of course, but clinical experience hadn’t prepared her for the genuine article. She’d expected him to be hard, she’d known he’d be large.

  But the heat emanating from him surprised her, as did the incredibly soft skin encasing the rigid length of his arousal. Meg curiously skimmed the sides, glided her hand over the super-smooth tip. She took him fully in her hand once more, gently tugged the hot slippery skin back and forth along the length of him. Nick hissed, uttered a soft oath. Emboldened, she cuddled his testicles, reveled in the silkiness. He groaned savagely.

  Meg was so caught up in her exploration of him, the first brush of his fingers against her feminine curls ripped the breath from her lungs.

  Nick gently pushed her onto her back and once again fastened his greedy mouth at her breast. His fingers traced, then parted her nether lips. “Mmmm, so wet,” he muttered thickly.

  He grazed the sensitive bud hidden there, sending a bolt of glorious sensation through her alternately tense and languid body. Yeah, that. That was the spot. Oh, right there. That’s what she needed. Craved. Now if he would just—

  “Like that, do you?” Nick breathed against her. She could hear his grin, damn him.

  “Y-yes,” she managed, desperately squirming against his finger. “Do. It. Again.”

  Nick stroked her, purposely avoiding the one spot she most wanted massaged. “Hmmm…what’s the magic word?”

  “Now!”

  Nick chuckled softly. Then simultaneously sucked hard at her nipple and slipped one long finger deep into her channel. Meg’s eyes widened, then shut as a torrent of pleasure rippled through her veins and concentrated at the apex of her thighs. Oh, hell. This was— She could— She squirmed shamelessly against him. Whimpered with need. He methodically worked his finger in and out of her, massaged her secret nub with his knuckle. Played at her breast.

  It felt wonderful and yet somehow it wasn’t enough. She was starving still, hungry for more. It was as though he’d given her a crust of bread and she wanted the whole loaf.

  She wanted him inside her. Needed him inside her. Now.

  “Please, Nick,” she whimpered, not ashamed to beg.

  “Please, what?”

  The bastard, Meg mentally railed. He knew what. She’d known he would torture her, had known he would pay her back for tonight. He might have absolved her of guilt where Kent was concerned, but he apparently had something to prove to himself—some crackbrained male thing she’d likely discover later. But later wasn’t soon enough.

  “P-please,” she tried again. “Oh, please.”

  Nick knuckled her harder, crooked one finger deep inside until he brushed a hidden patch of super-sensitive flesh. “You want this?” he asked huskily.

  A sound, part cry, part moan broke free of her throat as he once again catapulted her to near release. A screw of heat tightened below her navel, built steadily, but didn’t deliver her to climax.

  Meg shook her head, unable to form the words.

  “Tell me what you want.”

  He wanted her to say it. Fine. Whatever. She didn’t care. He’d maintained control—she’d lost it, and was beyond caring. Game, set, match. “I want you. All the way inside me.”

  Nick dragged his finger through her folds, kissed her deeply. He magically produced a condom, rolled it swiftly down his hardened length. His caramel gaze fastened on hers, that invitation to sin blatantly present in those gorgeous heavy-lidded orbs. “All you had to do was say the words.”

  Amen!

  She welcomed his weight as he positioned himself between her thighs, nudged between her drenched folds and swiftly pushed fully, completely inside her.

  A silent scream of pleasure rose from Meg’s throat. Her world went black, then lights danced behind her lids. She arched off the sheet, stunned at the intimate yet foreign invasion.

  “Man, you’re tight.” Nick t
ensed inside her, held perfectly still. His gaze met hers, and a curious shadow passed over his face. “Am I— Am I hurting you?”

  Meg tentatively rocked against him, lifted her hips to draw him more deeply inside her. Her muscles involuntarily clenched, detonating another firework display of bright sensation. “No,” she breathed.

  “Are you cert—”

  “I’m positive,” she insisted, her words tormented, her body tortured. Dammit, she’d finally gotten him where she wanted him and he still held back! She was determined to make him lose it. Make him beg, too.

  Meg lifted her hips, tilted them more firmly into his. She instinctively flexed her feminine muscles, drawing him more deeply inside her. “Do you have any idea how wonderful this feels?” she asked him. She leaned forward and nipped at his lips. She wanted to scream, wanted to burst into a chorus of Hallelujah!

  “Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea,” came his strangled, but clearly amused reply.

  His arms braced beside her, Meg watched as his face reflected a smidgen of her own torture. His brow furrowed and a sheen of sweat coated his magnificent body as he fought to maintain control. She could feel him there, pulsing inside her. She flexed around him again, and again. Smoothed her hands down his back, grasped the twin muscles of his rear and pulled him closer against her.

  He finally snapped.

  “Bloody hell,” he roared. Then to Meg’s almost unbearable delight thrust powerfully into her.

  She met him halfway the second time, and the next and the next as he slammed into her. Deep hard thrusts that thrilled her to her very soul. A constant game of withdraw and retreat that steadily built and built, like a circle slowly turning on itself until its shape was indistinguishable.

  He kissed her neck, suckled her nipples, seemingly unable to taste enough of her. Meg reciprocated in kind, fascinated with his incredibly broad shoulders. She kissed them, nipped at them. Frantically met him thrust after thrust. She anchored her legs around his waist, bowed and arched, begged—anything to get him more deeply inside her. He filled her to the point of pain, but it was a perfect blend of exquisite pleasure and delicious pain.