Any Way You Want It (14 page)

She cried out, and he immediately stilled, remaining motionless as her tight, searing flesh strained around his length.

God, so much for finesse.

“Darling, I’m so sorry,” he murmured in her hair, holding her tight, trying to gain some measure of control.

“For what?” she whispered back, her hands moving from his hair, to his shoulders, down over his back.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He met her eyes, trying to see her emotions there.

“You didn’t,” she assured him. “You feel wonderful. Big,” she added with a small, shy grin. “In a good way.”

“Are you sure?” She felt so delicate under him, so small around him.

“I’m very sure.” As if to prove her point, she moved, shifting her hips to slide up and down him, as much as his weight and angle would allow.

But that was all he needed. His desire, which he’d managed to keep in check with his concern, spiraled through his body again. It was damned near impossible to think about anything but moving inside her, feeling her fiery heat stroke him.

He braced himself on the mattress, pivoting his hips in steady strokes. Underneath him, Maggie followed his rhythm, anchoring her legs around his hips.

Their movements quickly became more frantic, more driving, until he was thrusting into her, hard and deep.

Then he felt her strain against him, her legs clamping around him, her heels digging into the small of his back as her body tightened, then her release jolted through her.

“Ren!”

He buried his face in her neck as he thrust into her to the hilt, feeling his own release shudder through him. His body trembling as she continued to spasm around him.

He remained on top of her, his body now limp, as if all the energy he had inside him had drained into her. As if she was the vampire, and he the helpless mortal.

Finally, he became aware of her fingers toying with his hair, stroking him, the action oddly sweet and caring.

He lifted his head to look at her face. She lay beneath him, her eyes closed until he shifted. Her hand paused, still in his hair, her eyes slightly dazed by her release.

“Thank you,” she said offering him the most beatific smile. A smile that literally took his breath away.

“I’m not sure you should be thanking me.” He meant it. He’d had nearly two centuries of sex, and he’d never experienced anything like this. It was…he didn’t know how to give it words.

“I didn’t know sex could be like that.” She brushed strands of hair from his face, tucking it behind his ear.

Ren fought the urge to nuzzle against her hand like a cat. But her fingers felt so good touching him.

His cock began to harden inside her.

Her fingers stilled and her eyes widened as the swell pressed against her fiery walls.

His first inclination was to rock against her, inside her. To restart what they just finished. But he remained still, watching her.

“You can do this again?” Amazement clear on her face.

He nodded. “Apparently.” This wasn’t the norm for him. Usually he did his thing and that was it.

Often he didn’t want a second time. But if things were different and he didn’t have to end things with Maggie, he’d never be done. He could be with her over and over and still never have enough.

But he remained motionless. He could tell from her tightness and her shyness, this wasn’t the kind of sexual interaction she was used to. He didn’t want to overwhelm her.

But instead of looking dismayed by his reaction, she smiled and pulled his head down to her, kissing his lips sweetly. “I guess I’d better make sure you are satisfied this time.”

He made a noise somewhere between a laugh and a groan. “Oh believe me, darling, you satisfied me very, very well. I just suspect you make any man insatiable.”

He expected her to laugh at that. But instead the sparkle faded from her eyes.

“No. This is a rarity for me, too.”

Ren wanted to ask her more, but somehow this didn’t seem the time or the place. Not when he was filling her with his body. So instead of talking, he kissed her again, and began to move his hips. Thankfully, the lost sparkle was replaced by an aroused glitter. A sight he liked much, much more.

He took his time with her. Teasing her, bringing her to the point of orgasm only to pull back. Until finally, she begged him for release, pleading with him in breathless, broken words. Beseeching him with the desperate gyrations of her body. Her heels digging into his back, her fingers squeezing his muscles, her body straining against him. In response, he deepened his thrusts, filling her over and over. His lips locked with hers, his hands stroking her skin.

He tasted her orgasm as she tightened around him. The sweet, honeyed release prompted his own as he followed her into the abyss of spiraling, drowning climax.

Again it was countless moments before he mustered the strength to roll off of her. But this time, her eyes were closed and her breathing even.

She’d fallen asleep, curled into the blankets, her hair a wild cascade around her delicate features.

He considered waking her, but she looked too comfortable, too peaceful, to rouse. Not to mention, the dawn would be here soon. He glanced at the clock on his nightstand. He had a couple hours before the sun rose, more than enough time to see her back to her hotel. He could even let her sleep for a while and then wake her.

But instead he eased her limp body up to the pillows, then pulled the covers up over her—only stopping occasionally to note how lovely she was.

He settled in beside her, watching her as she slept. Not only did women rarely come here, they never spent the night. And he never spent the night with them. It was too dangerous.

He reached for her, his hand hovering over her as if to shake her awake. Instead he tucked the blankets around her pale shoulders, and then he got up to pull the heavy velvet curtains around the bed.

He crawled back in beside her, moving so he could feel her soft, feminine body warm at his side, and listen to the steady rhythm of her breathing.

Just for tonight. Surely one night couldn’t hurt anything.

M aggie awoke, disoriented. She tried to focus her eyes, but the blackness surrounding her was so complete that, for a moment, she wasn’t even sure she had opened her eyes. She blinked, but still couldn’t see.

The thorough darkness was perplexing but not concerning, especially when she registered the hard warmth at her back and the arm flung over her waist. Ren.

Her body hummed with the delicious memory of what he’d done to her with that body of his. She rolled toward him, touching his arm, his shoulder, his hair spread over the pillow.

She repeated the touch, memorizing the feel of him in the darkness. Denied the use of her eyes, she focused on the texture of him. His skin was cool where no blankets covered him, warm where he made contact with her. The skin of his upper arms and shoulders was smooth like a perfect sculpture, his powerful muscles relaxed with his slumber, but still hard under the silkiness. The tiny hairs on his forearms tickled her fingers. She lightly stroked his chest, more hard muscle and bone covered in more tickling hair. Her fingers moved to his head and the long hair there, silk twining through her fingers.

She wanted to explore him more, take her time and memorize every detail of him. But she didn’t want to disturb his sleep—not to mention she felt a little shy exploring any further.

Although this could be the last time she was offered the chance, and she did want to remember everything about him. About her first fling. About the man who’d managed to make her feel sexy and desirable when she believed she never would again.

Idly, she toyed with a strand of his hair, recalling everything he’d done to her. With his hands, his mouth, and his tongue. She wriggled slightly—Lord, that tongue! Her body reacted just to the thought.

She remained beside him, reluctant to move even though nature called. If she ended this moment, if she left this bed, the night would officially be over. And Ren had only offered a night.

She didn’t want to give this up. This closeness, this attraction. She wanted to remain right here in the cocooning dark.

She played with his hair, letting the locks fall through her fingers. She listened for his even breathing, but the darkness was silent. If she couldn’t feel him, his warmth, his relaxed strength, she’d believe herself alone.

She touched his chest, her fingers brushing the whorls of hair. She held her fingers to him, attempting to feel the beating of his heart. He was totally still. She couldn’t even feel the steady thump of his heart.

She levered herself up, peering ineffectively into the blackness. For some reason, even as she told herself she was overreacting, she patted gently around until she found his lips. She held her fingertips to the petal-soft skin there.

“Ren?” she whispered.

He didn’t respond, and again she was filled with fear. Was he okay? His skin was warm under her fingers. Yet…

“Ren?” she said, this time a little louder.

He didn’t respond for a moment, then he made a gruff noise and moved the arm still at her waist to pull her tighter to him.

She sagged back against the pillows, relief making her weak. Then she laughed slightly at her own foolishness. Had she really believed he was…What? Dead?

She was obviously overwrought. And rightly so, she supposed. She had made the monumental leap of sleeping with a man she’d only known for three days. That was huge. Of course, why it would lead her to the idea that Ren was dead…well, that was a little melodramatic, wasn’t it?

She frowned into the darkness, then realized that between her overactive mind and her very full bladder, rest wasn’t going to be possible.

She curled her hands around Ren’s arm, surprised at the dead weight of the appendage. This man was a very sound sleeper, she’d give him that.

She wriggled away from him and pushed back the covers. She put her feet over the edge of the bed, and realized that the room was shrouded in such complete darkness because the thick velvet drapes had been pulled closed around the bed. Dim light peeked in from the bottom of the curtain and the split where they met.

She pushed the material back, just enough to slip out into the room, then let the heavy velvet fall back into place behind her. She crossed her arms over her chest, embarrassed despite the fact there was no one there to see her nudity.

She blinked and squinted. Even the dim, watery light was blinding after such complete blackness.

When her eyes adjusted, she scanned the floor, trying to find her clothes. She couldn’t find her own shirt, but did spot Ren’s balled up by the foot of the bed. She snatched it up and tugged it on.

Then she started toward the door on her side of the bed. She did a little desperate dance as she pulled the door open, silently praying it was the bathroom.

Thankfully it was. She rushed inside, closing the door behind her. Once finished with her poor overfilled bladder, she moved to the sink to wash her hands.

The mirror over the old pedestal sink was cloudy, revealing its age. She leaned in to look at herself. Tousled hair, puffy lips, skin bright pink on her neck and chest.

She smiled. She looked like a well-satisfied woman. She tilted her head, studying herself a little more. Yep, definitely well-satisfied. She giggled.

Who’d have thunk it, the best sex of her life with a virtual stranger. Except Ren didn’t feel like a stranger to her. In many ways, she felt like she’d known him forever. Like he was a part of her.

Like he understood her, knew her fears and concerns and how to calm them.

That couldn’t really be true, of course. But he did have this uncanny way of reading her. And that was sexy too.

She left the bathroom, pausing in the middle of the bedroom, trying to decide what to do. She glanced at the curtained bed, but immediately dismissed the idea of waking Ren. Given the deepness of his sleep, he was obviously exhausted. And frankly, he’d earned his rest.

She smiled again, her body humming with satisfaction. Satisfaction and an almost electrical sense of energy. She felt alive and vibrant and happy.

She looked around her again, wondering what to do. Now that she was up and awake, she realized she was also hungry. And thirsty.

She searched for her panties and found them under the bed, but her jeans seemed to be missing.

Had they really been that frantic when they’d undressed each other? She located her shirt, flung onto his piano bench, but without pants, Ren’s shirt was a better option for now, since it was long enough to almost cover her bottom. She also grabbed her purse. She’d have to call Erika and Jo.

They might be worried about her.

She smiled again at the image she must make, climbing down Ren’s stairs in his shirt, her butt in imminent danger of hanging out.

She didn’t really care. She liked this feeling. She’d never worn Peter’s clothes. He was very particular about his stuff. And there was something very intimate about wearing a man’s clothing.

Of course, it wouldn’t do to think about that too much. She had to keep in mind this was just a one-night stand. Maybe two, if she could finagle it.

She headed straight to the kitchen, and opened the fridge. The wire racks were empty, except for two beers. She closed the door, then moved to the cupboards. Those were empty, except for some mismatched dishes and an ancient-looking box of teabags.

She supposed that Ren’s lifestyle didn’t lend itself to cooking much. But didn’t he even have cereal or bread or something? She shrugged, taking down the box of tea. Lifting the lid, she sniffed the contents. It smelled like tea. She turned, pleased to see a kettle on the stovetop. Well, a cup of tea was going to have to tide her over.

She filled the kettle and turned on the gas range. The flame flared blue. She then wandered into the living room. Picking up a magazine, she flipped through the pages. Strange that he kept insisting he didn’t play piano and keyboards, yet she’d heard him do so—very well. And he had a gorgeous piano—in his bedroom no less. Plus he had—she glanced at the pile of periodicals on the end table—at least twenty magazines on the subject of keyboards and pianos.