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|On Dublin Street(On Dublin Street #1)(25) by Samantha Young|
My mouth dropped open. “You’re lying.”
He shook his head, enjoying himself. “You’ve got great legs, Jocelyn. An amazing smile when you use it on occasion. And fantastic tits. And yeah, I usually date blondes. But you’re a blonde. I think.” He laughed when my glower turned full on glare. “Doesn’t matter about the color. You never wear it down, and I can’t get the thought of you beneath me, and that hair spread out across my pillow while I move inside you, out of my head.”
“But I think mostly it’s your eyes. I want something from them no one else gets from them.”
“And what’s that?” I asked, my voice low, almost hoarse. His words had affected me as deeply as any aphrodisiac.
“Soft.” His own voice had deepened with the highly sexual atmosphere. “Soft the way only a woman’s can be after she’s come for me.”
I gulped inwardly. Outwardly, I tilted my head to the side with a wry grin. “You’re good with the words, I’ll give you that.”
“I’m good with my hands. Will you let me give you that?”
I laughed and his grin widened, wicked and beautiful. I sighed, and shook my head again. “It sounds like more than just sex, Braden. You’re asking for companionship. That’s complicating things.”
“Why? It’s just two friends going on a few dates and ha**ng s*x afterwards.” He sensed my unmoving doubt on that one because he shrugged. “Look, when have I ever gotten serious about a woman? I want you, you want me. It’s hanging over what should have been a perfectly nice friendship, so let’s just deal with it.”
“But adding date nights into it? Doesn’t that extend the time period on this thing?”
I thought I saw a flash of annoyance in his eyes, but it was gone with a flicker of his lashes. “You want to put a time period on it?”
And then he grinned, realizing I was giving in.
Shit. I was giving in.
I snorted. “Two.”
We stared at one another and as if it suddenly occurred to us we were talking about how long we were intending to explore a sexual relationship with each other, the already hot tension between us burned deeper, and thickened the air. It was like someone had lassoed a rope around the two of us and was tugging and tugging, trying to draw us closer. An image of us in my bed, na**d and writhing, flashed across my mind and my body instantly responded. Panties sufficiently damp, my ni**les joined the party and tightened—visibly. Braden’s eyes dropped to my br**sts and started to smolder before they returned to my face.
“Done,” I murmured.
His next question was unexpected but practical. “Are you on the pill?”
I’d had irregular, heavy periods so yes I was on the pill to stop that. “Yes.”
“Have you been checked?”
I knew what he meant. And after my last sexual encounter and the whole not remembering what the hell had happened, yeah… I’d been checked for STDs. “Yes. Have you?”
“After every relationship.”
“Then I guess we’re good to go.”
The words were barely out of my mouth before Braden was standing above me, his large hand reaching out for mine, his face determined, serious. His eyes blazing.
“What? Now?” I squeaked, totally unprepared.
He cocked an eyebrow. “You want to wait?”
“I just… I thought I’d have time to get ready.”
“You know… perfume, nice lingerie…”
With a grunt of amusement, Braden took hold of my wrist and hauled me out of my chair. My small body slammed into his and his arms came instantly around me, holding me to him. A hand slid down my hip and around to my butt. He squeezed it lightly and pressed me against him, his erection hard against my belly. I stifled a moan, tilting my head back to meet his eyes. They glittered down at me. “Babe, nice lingerie is for seducing a man. I’m already f**king seduced.”
His mouth cut me off, crushing against mine, his tongue seeking immediate entry. His kiss was deep and wet and it said ‘this isn’t a date, this is sex’. That was fine by me. I groaned and slid my arms up around his neck and Braden took that as my acquiescence.
One minute I was on the ground, the next I was in Braden’s arms, my legs around his waist, my hands in his hair as we kissed and bit and nipped and licked at each other’s mouths, learning the taste and feel of one another.
“Fuck,” Braden responded, the burr of the word vibrating against my lips.
No time to complain about him leaving my mouth, I felt the air blow through my hair and we were moving into the hall, down the hall, into my bedroom and then I was falling. I hit the mattress with a surprised ‘oof’ and stared up at Braden indignantly. “Was that necessary?”
“Strip,” he answered gruffly, unbuttoning his shirt with quick, nimble fingers.
My sex clenched. My jaw did too. “Excuse me?”
He stopped what he was doing and leaned down over me, his hands on either side of my h*ps on the mattress, his face in mine. “A second proposal: when we’re f**king, you don’t argue with me.”
“Jocelyn,” he murmured in warning.
My eyes dropped to his mouth, the mouth I wanted back on mine. If that meant not arguing during sex, fine. I’d just argue with him when we weren’t ha**ng s*x. “Why do you insist on calling me Jocelyn?” I made sure my tone wasn’t argumentative, just curious. Because I was curious.
His lips touched mine, soft, gentle, and he pulled back, those pale blue eyes of his bright with heat. “Joss is a girl’s name. Possibly a tomboy’s name.” He smirked. “Jocelyn, on the other hand, is a woman’s name. A really sexy woman’s name.” He pulled back. “So strip, Jocelyn.”
Okay. He could call me Jocelyn.
I sat up and lifted the hem of my shirt, pulling it up and over my head. I threw it across the room and took a moment to watch Braden strip out of his own shirt. It dropped to the floor and I watched it, before letting my eyes travel back upwards. I smiled in anticipation at the sight of the hard-on tenting his pants, and then my mouth went dry as I took in his na**d torso.
Braden worked out. Like really worked out.
The waist of his pants hung low showing off his flat stomach and the sexy v-cut of his muscles there. I bit my lip. I wanted to touch him. My eyes followed his six-pack up to a strong chest and broad-shoulders. And it was all nicely wrapped up in unblemished golden skin.
“Fuck, Jocelyn.” I looked up and found his gaze blazing even brighter than before. “If you keep looking at me like that, this is going to be over far sooner than I’d like.”
Hmm. I liked that. I liked that I had power over him. “Well, we can’t have that.” I grinned saucily, and reached around to undo my bra. The cold air hit my na**d br**sts as I dropped the bra off the side of the bed and this time I was treated to Braden’s perusal.
His eyes drifted from my chest to my face and suddenly he looked a little angry. I stiffened in surprise. “Do you know what it’s been like for me since that day in the flat? Sitting across from you in bars, at dinner, knowing that underneath all the attitude is every man’s f**king fantasy.”
Oh, he was good.
His eyes narrowed as he reached for the buttons and zip on his suit pants. The zip slid down loudly. “I’m going to make you pay for making me wait to have you.”
The throbbing between the legs got worse. Sounds good.
I reached up and unwound my hair, letting it fall around my shoulders in all its glory, shivering as the need in Braden’s eyes sharpened. “Fine,” I agreed huskily.
I don’t know which one of us got our pants off faster after that, but one minute I was trying to take back some control with all my sexy attitude and hair. The next minute I was panty-less on my back, my br**sts pressed against Braden’s chest, my thighs spread open to accommodate him between my legs… and I was staring up into his eyes, breathless with anticipation.
“What are you waiting for?” I murmured.
His gave me a wry smile. “For you to back out.”
I huffed in annoyance. “I’m na**d aren’t I?”
“So? You have been before.”
“Braden!” I hit his shoulder as he chuckled softly, and his laughter caused his lower body to move–that long, thick, delicious c*ck of his sliding down over my belly and back up again.
I gasped at the pulse of pleasure the tease of the action caused and Braden groaned in answer, his lips falling on mine. I’m sure the kiss was meant to be slow, sexy, tormenting. It started out that way. But weeks of forestalling this moment had made us both a little impatient. The kiss grew aggressive, bruising, my hands gripping tight to his hair, his hands kneading my waist, my ribs, my br**sts. My br**sts were particularly sensitive, and when his thumb brushed my nipple, my h*ps jerked against him.
“You like that, babe,” he murmured, not really asking since the answer was obvious. His lips trailed kisses down my jaw and neck, my hands slipping out of his hair to his shoulders as he stopped at my right breast. He placed a soft, deliberate kiss to the rise of it and I swear I stopped breathing. Another kiss. Another.
“Braden…” I begged.
I felt him smile against my breast just before I felt the wet heat of his tongue against my nipple as his lips closed around it, drawing it in deep. A sharp lance of lust shot through my sex. “God, Braden!”
He did the same to the other breast and I found myself tilting my h*ps into his, more impatient it seemed than even he was. Then again, it had been longer for me.
“Babe,” his voice rumbled above me as his hand slid down to my hip, stilling me. “Are you wet for me yet, Jocelyn?”
Yes. God yes. “Braden…”
“Answer me.” I could feel his hand moving downwards; felt the graze of his fingers high on my inner thigh, teasing me. “Tell me you’re wet for me.”