Four Seconds to Lose (Ten Tiny Breaths #3)(53)
Author: K.A. Tucker

He chuckles. Though it’s not unpleasant, there’s a hint of wickedness in the sound that I haven’t heard from him before. “Is this a new game of yours? Okay, Charlie, you know I like to play your games.” Shifting out of my grasp, Cain’s hands work my dress down to my ankles and off. “I was going to let you keep this on, but . . .” Standing, he folds my dress into a neat pile and tucks it under my head like a pillow. Then, he resumes his perch on one knee, admiring my body without reservation. I don’t doubt that the moonlight overhead is providing ample light for his perusal. I refuse to cower under his scrutiny, though this is both the most erotic and the most embarrassing thing I’ve ever experienced. “Does Security ever walk down here?” I ask, unable to mask the apprehension in my voice.

His hands move to my thighs. He pushes my legs farther apart, lifting one up to rest on the back of the bench while he urges the other one down, to dangle off the edge. Despite my attempts to act nonchalant, I inhale sharply, my body beginning to ache, searching for some relief, both from him and this compromising position.

“They won’t tonight. I’ve made sure of it. I wouldn’t do this with you out here, otherwise.” I trust that he wouldn’t, which makes me relax, marginally. With the high, thick wooden rails around us and the small structure that serves as a barrier behind us, we are invisible to everyone.

Still . . .

I don’t know many guys who could just sit there and study a naked woman spread out like I am, especially given that I’ve just confirmed that Cain is rock hard and dripping. But this is what I get for trying to tease a man with the self-control of a machine.

I lie there, watching him—fully dressed—stare at me with a low, intense burn within those brown eyes for what is probably only a minute but feels like an eternity. Finally, that curl that I love touches his lips. “I’m not afraid to admit that I’m a little nervous, Charlie.” I gasp as I feel a single finger trail slowly down my center, my body tensing up. “Can you admit that? Or are you going to continue lying?”

Cain is nervous? Panty-dropping hot Cain, who has women literally throwing themselves at him, is nervous about being with me? “Yes, I am,” I finally whisper.

“Good. I know when you’re lying, Charlie, so you may as well just come out and tell me.” I feel the guilt trying to claw its way back to the forefront of my every thought, my every word, with his warning. But then his fingers slide over me a second time, through the increasing slickness, and the guilt instantly retreats. “Do you know how stunning you are?” My breath catches as I feel the welcomed intrusion, his fingers moving in a slow circular motion as he watches my body respond.

I close my eyes just as his touch vanishes and the heat of his breath skates over me. I let out a tiny cry as I feel his tongue against me, replacing the work of his hands.

It’s like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. My fingers once again find their way to his silky hair as I feel him moan against me, as his hands grip my thighs, as I bite my lip to keep from screaming out. All the intensity of those nights—the daydreams, the dances for Cain—combined with the reality that he is here now, with me, have produced a storm inside me that’s ready to erupt.

Arching my back against the pleasure of his tongue—delving and sliding with expertise and specific intentions—I feel a familiar buildup in my lower belly. It doesn’t take long before Cain’s arms tighten around my body to keep me still as he finishes me off, and I have to grit my teeth to keep from giving the security guards a play-by-play.

There’s no tension, no modesty left in me when I’m done and Cain’s lips move up to trail kisses along my belly, my br**sts, my neck. When he reaches my mouth, he doesn’t hesitate to lay a gentle kiss, even though I can taste myself on him.

I’ve never tasted that. I’ve had guys go down on me before, but it felt like required foreplay before sex; it wasn’t done half as well, and never to orgasm.

I’ve never orgasmed with a guy. Period. Though I don’t think it’s all that surprising; I am only eighteen. I’m getting the impression that I could experience just about everything with Cain if I had more time.

Sliding a hand beneath my shoulders, Cain pulls me up and onto his lap again, his erection digging into me, making it abundantly clear what he wants. What I’m willing to give him. As he leans forward to pull his wallet from his back pocket, my mouth affixes itself to the side of his neck—to that sensitive spot where the tattoo is—and my eager fingers work the buttons of his shirt to reveal the sculpted body beneath it. I’ve been dying to touch it again since that day in my old apartment. Now, I marvel at how hot his skin is as I press my own bare chest up against it.

When I hear the tear of the foil packet, I decide to help him out by pulling him out of his briefs, my warm hands quickly wrapping around his length to begin stroking.“Easy, Charlie. I’m about to explode,” he growls as he lifts me up on my knees again. As he quickly frees himself of his pants by tugging them down past his thighs, I eagerly wait while he slides a condom on.

The agile, forceful Cain returns, grabbing my hips and moving them into position over him. He doesn’t ask if I’m sure anymore. He doesn’t ask if I’m nervous. He simply locks eyes with me as he pushes himself inside me smoothly—stretching me, filling me completely. He’s almost too much for me and I have to breathe through the pressure.

When he’s buried deep inside me, he stops moving and pulls me to his mouth, catching my gasp with his lips, stealing my air, my thoughts, my everything.

And then we begin moving against each other.

It’s a slow cadence at first, his hands gripping my hips to dictate the speed he wants. I’m fine with slow because I’m still sensitive, and having him inside me is just plain overwhelming.

It doesn’t take long for my body to accept him, though, and when it does, our momentum quickly accelerates, his thrusts becoming harder, his kisses hungrier, his size inside me swelling even more.

I finally break away from his mouth and push his hands away from my hip, locking eyes with him as I offer him a teasing smile as I take control of the rhythm, my own strong leg muscles working for him. He leans back, his lips parted, watching my body move beneath hooded eyes. His hand finds its way back and I’m about to swat it again, until I realize it’s not there to dictate my movements. It’s there to make sure I’m getting full pleasure from this as well.

“Charlie . . .” I hear the name in his whisper, the desire in it, and I truly wish it were my name he was calling out. Reaching up with his free hand, he curls his fingers around the back of my neck. He tugs my tongue into his mouth in a demanding kiss, smothering a deep moan as I feel his body stiffen, as I feel him pulsing inside me.

I did that for Cain. Me. I turned him on that much. That realization tears a second orgasm out of me almost instantly and I can’t help but cry out.

Not until his hips stop and his breathing slows to a heavy pant do our lips break free of each other. I curl my naked body—coated with a thin sheen of sweat now—into his chest, with him still inside me. Large, strong arms wrap me and I feel his lips pressed against my forehead. He makes no move to pull out, seemingly content to stay right where he is.

I marvel at this new version of Cain I have discovered. He’s not the hard, aggressive man that I’ve fantasized about. He’s not the emotional Cain I experienced last night.