A Date with the Other Side (Cuttersville #1)(57)
Author: Erin McCarthy

“Absolutely not. You’re just making me insane with want, that’s all.”

A glance up showed his eyes were closed. He looked tortured and vulnerable. It made her swallow a small moan and clench her thighs together. “Have other women done this to you?” she asked, knowing the answer, not even sure why she was asking. She didn’t want to imagine cool blond businesswomen down on their knees in front of Boston.

She reached into his boxers and pressed her hand against his hot skin, finding him on the first try this time, even in the dark.

“Yes. But not one of them ever made me feel like this.”

“Like what?” She took a tentative lick across the head of his penis.

Boston shuddered. “Out of control. Immersed. Totally and completely in love.”

She covered him with her mouth and took the length of him into her as he swore again, cruder this time. Shadows covered them both, making Shelby feel bolder, more curious, more willing to go with her desires and throw caution aside. Hands on his hard thighs, she pulled him in and out, over and over, shocked at how with each stroke her own need grew and built and ached for release.

Slippery and eager, her lips fell off him and they both groaned in agony.

“Oh, Boston, you taste so good.” Pausing only to lick the bead of fluid squeezing out, Shelby closed her mouth over him again, flushed with passion, excitement, love.

The room was hot, the air still and humid, the only sounds the hum of the TV, the steady whirl of the ceiling fan, and their rapid breathing. Boston’s hips rocked to meet her, a fast hard rhythm, and then suddenly he was gone.

She blinked up at him, wiping her lips, struggling to see him. “What’s the matter?” she whispered, already reaching forward again.

He’d moved back, then he spoke, voice hoarse. “No. I’m going to come if you don’t stop.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

Boston dropped to his haunches and held her face between hands that trembled. “I want to be inside you. I want to feel your body wrapped around mine, and I want my eyes locked with yours when we both come together.”

He kissed her with such tenderness, such awe, that Shelby thought she might actually cry, something she hadn’t done since she’d lost out on head cheerleader to Mitzy Garvey in the tenth grade.

“You know that you’re beautiful.” Boston pulled back and took her T-shirt off over her head, wishing it weren’t so dark so he could see her luscious body. The light from the TV and the filtered moonlight drizzled over her, but it didn’t give him the golden glow of her skin, or the pink of her ni**les as he dragged her bra down in the front.

“But you hate my clothes, don’t you?” she said with a laugh, brown eyes round and shining with moisture.

“Yes,” he said enthusiastically, stroking his tongue along the swell of her breast. He didn’t want to see Shelby in something that wasn’t her personality, like a suit or a designer cocktail dress, but he really didn’t think sack-like cotton shirts and shorts reflected her uniqueness either. “Except for those tight shorts and that sexy little halter top you wore when you took me on the tour. That was a hot outfit.”

“I think it was off me more than it was on me.”

Boston sucked her nipple lightly. “Exactly. It turned me on, so I took it off.”

“I like that you wear jeans, yet somehow it never looks casual. It turns me on, so take them off,” she said, digging her nails into his head.

He tasted her whole breast, from one end to the other and back again. “And you had the nerve to tell me I’m bossy.”

“Do it,” she said, taking her br**sts out of his reach by sitting back on the couch. In a second, the bra was tumbling to the floor and she was wiggling out of her shorts effortlessly since they were so loose on her.

Boston didn’t want to be left behind, so he shoved his jeans down and kicked them aside. His boxers dropped beside them, and he positioned himself over Shelby on the couch. “Lie down, and spread your legs for me.”

He almost expected her to tell him to go to hell. But he underestimated Shelby and her ability to drive him mindless with lust.

She fell back, ponytail pushing her hair out on either side of her face, her small lips open, her tongue trailing across the bottom with instinctive sensuality. Her arms went up on either side of her head, her white bandage still covering her stitches. Her br**sts pushed out toward him, round and smooth and glowing in the moonlight. Her stomach rose and fell with her breathing, and as he focused on her nest of curls, she dropped her knees and spread her legs for him.

“Perfect,” he said with a fascinated nod.

He was holding himself over her and wanted to just push inside her, but he had forgotten a condom. He fell down onto her lightly, and rushing his lips over her belly, he felt around on the floor for his jeans. He’d been carrying condoms in his pants pockets hoping optimistically for a repeat performance, and whether in a barn or a field or the living room, he had wanted to be prepared.

Thank God.

Shelby didn’t complain about his weight pressing on her, just wiggled restlessly under him, stroking his back and nudging her hot little mound into his thigh. He could feel her heat, her moisture, and it made him blind with impatience. She kissed his chin, his neck, while he hooked a finger through the pocket of his pants and hauled them toward him.

A second later, he had the condom on and was stroking between her thighs, making sure she was ready for him. She was more than ready, and she whimpered as his fingers slid over her.

“I want you to know,” Boston said as he nudged gently with the tip of his cock, “that I really . . .”

He sank just inside her.

“Do …”

Straining for control, he went a little deeper.

“Love . . .”

He thrust fully inside her, taking all of her, her muscles clamping on to him, her chin tipped up, her eyes warm with answering emotion.

“You.” Boston paused, throbbing, unbelievably close to exploding, wanting to savor the moment, to memorize her face the way it looked right then.

Her legs locked around his back, pulling him deeper into her. Shelby panted, little sounds of passion, her hands gripping the arm of the couch. He needed her to say she loved him—he wasn’t going to move until she did, no matter what it cost him. He had to hear it, had to know that he mattered, that she was his to take and keep and live with for the rest of forever.

“Do you love me too, Shelby?”