Cooper's Fall (6 page)

“Shit,” he muttered. “You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

Her lips tilted a bit cynically. “Define virginity. Have I ever been with a man? No, I haven’t. But I haven’t had a hymen for years, Ethan.”

She didn’t call him Cooper. Fuck. She was dangerous. Because
calling him Ethan struck a soft spot in him he didn’t know he had. He liked the sound of it on her lips, the way her eyes softened when she said his name.

He moved toward her then. Slowly, watching her. Her gaze met his, direct, unashamed. A little quiet. A little somber. There were shadows in those pale blue eyes, shadows that made him wonder exactly what lay beneath the surface of this proud little woman.

And there was pride. Immeasurable pride.

“Why?” He moved behind her, bent his head, and brushed his nose against the hair by her ear. He wanted to hear her voice, not be distracted by the need filling her eyes. “Why haven’t you been with a man, Sair?”

Her throat moved as she swallowed tightly. “I was very sheltered for a long time, and after that, I had a hard time adjusting.” Sadness filled her voice. “And I was working. There was no time.” And there was a little lie.

“Don’t lie to me.” He nipped her ear and felt her jerk. “Never lie to me, Sair. I don’t tolerate it well.”

She was silent for long moments. “I don’t want a one-night stand. I don’t want a boy who doesn’t know how to touch a woman, or a man who knows only his own pleasure.” She turned her head and stared at him. “I’m not looking for love, Ethan. But I want to be held. I want to be pleasured. And I want to know how to pleasure. And I’ve wanted you since the first day I saw you.”

His cock was going to rip past the zipper on his pants, tear right through his clothes, and go for the glory. Hell.

He took her beer and set it with his on the deck railing. Here, beneath the covered porch, the lattice surrounding the enclosed area, there were no eyes to see. Not that he really cared if anyone could see. He wondered if she would care?

Turning her to him, he gripped the back of her neck, watched the pulse hammer in her throat, and stared at the way those pouty lips parted and her tongue stroked over them.

Hell. He was gonna do this. She had said the magic words, though he didn’t know if he believed them. She said she didn’t want love. She wanted sex. She wanted bad sex.

“Nasty sex,” he whispered, lowering his lips until they feathered hers. “Hard sex, Sair. I’m a man. A hard man. And I love sex, baby.”

There was the slightest little dip to her lashes and he bet she was creaming her panties. He bet when he touched that bare little pussy, he was going to find his fingers covered in her juices.

“Touch me.” Her whispered entreaty tightened his balls. “However you want to, Cooper. Touch me, before I die for it.”

“I won’t be easy.” He wrapped an arm around her hips, bent, and jerked her up to him.

Her eyes widened, innocence sparkled like incandescent lights in her pale blue eyes, and arousal flushed her face. Her lips looked poutier, ready to plunder, to taste, to explore.

Slender hands slid up his forearms as his cock throbbed behind his jeans, pressing against the soft flesh of her covered pussy. He was going to go down on her. As soon as he kissed her. As soon as he stilled the fire raging inside him for the taste of those pretty lips. He was going to lift her skirt, pull her panties aside, and devour her.

“I didn’t ask for easy,” she spoke against his lips, a stroke of fire, of need.

And he wasn’t going to give her easy. There was something in her eyes, in the needy little catch of her voice. The memory of those piercings and the way she drank that whiskey. Sweet little Sair didn’t want easy at all. And that was a damned good thing, because Cooper had lost “easy” a long damn time ago.

Sarah was swamped with sensation. Lost in it. Her fingers curled in ecstasy against strong, broad shoulders, and her lips parted beneath a kiss that was hot, hungry, and oh so good.

He held her against him effortlessly, her feet dangling from the ground, his heavy erection pressed between her thighs. She lifted her legs as his lips moved over hers, slanted across them, his tongue taking hers. She slid her legs up his—feeling the power beneath them, the bunch of the muscle beneath his jeans—until her knees were gripping his thighs, and one of his hands slid to her ass, cupping it, holding her up.

Oh, that was so good. She lost herself within the dreamy, seductive sensations flowing through her. Flames licked over her flesh, burned in her pussy. She gripped his powerful flanks, eased higher,
and lowered herself, a moan tearing past their kiss at the incredible assault of sensation against the piercing rubbing her clit.

Why was it different? Why couldn’t she pleasure herself with her own touch? It was the excitement, she decided. The dangerous, pulsing excitement thundering through her bloodstream, swelling in her clit and in her nipples. It was the knowledge that she was in the arms of a very dangerous man. But not a cruel man. She knew the difference. She had lived with the differences for most of her life.

The inherent dark, seductive force of the man holding her drew her. It powered through her.

“Fuck, you’re like dynamite,” he growled, tearing his lips from her, his head lifting, the amber in his hazel eyes almost like fire now.

It set fire to her senses. He was aroused. Really and truly aroused for her. For
her.

“Make me explode then,” she panted. “I’m certain I have a very short fuse.”

Cooper stared down at her, almost shocked. Her pale blue eyes were lit with hunger, with need. Her face flushed with it. Her knees tightened at his thighs as his hand clenched in the curve of her ass.

Hell, he bet she could come over and over again. If Cooper thought he knew anything, then he knew a woman’s pleasure. He’d made it his life’s work. He’d put a lot of practice and research into the matter. Didn’t understand their minds. Had no clue how to decipher their emotions. But he knew how to give them pleasure.

And he was betting his back teeth that he could make this little firecracker come like the fourth of July.

She was innocent, but hotter than hell. He could see it in her, and suddenly the need to know why she was innocent, why she had picked him, was rising in his head.

He’d tackle that problem later. Right now, Sarah was sweet and hot in his arms and he wanted her naked. He wanted her twisting, writhing, begging for release.

“Let’s see just what it takes to make Sair come, then.” He grinned down at her, watched her eyes darken.

“I want to see what makes Ethan come, too.”

She surprised him again.

Her hands smoothed over his shoulders. Her inquisitive little face, filled with hot feminine lust, held him transfixed.

“Want to know what makes me come?” he crooned, lowering his head to touch her lips, watching her eyes flare.

“Yes,” she breathed.

“Sometimes, the simplest thing.” He nipped at that pouty lower lip. “I came like hell last week. In my attic. Staring down at your pool and watching you touch yourself.”

Her eyes widened in shock. “You saw me?” There was the slightest hint of mortification in her voice. Just enough that he knew she was thinking more about her failed attempt to get off than she was about him seeing her.

“I jacked off watching you.” He turned to the table that sat beneath the sheltered porch and sat her on it.

“You liked watching me?” There was a hint of shyness, the pleasure building back as he smoothed her dress up her legs.

“I loved watching you. And I’m going to watch you again.”

She shook her head. “You touch me.”

She was breathing so hard her tight little nipples were in danger of bursting through the front of her dress.

“Oh, I’m going to touch you.” Just a little bit. Just enough to get her hotter, to make her wilder. “Then you’re going to touch me, Sair. Let’s see how hot we can make that pretty little body of yours.”

He leaned back, jerked off his T-shirt, and had to clench his
teeth. Her hands were there, on the thin mat of hair covering his chest and angling down the center of his body.

Then her lips.

Jesus. This wasn’t a woman who wanted all the pleasure for herself.

He lifted his hands to her hair and pulled the clip from all those glorious curls, watching them fall down her back in a swath of silky ringlets. He couldn’t wait to feel those fucking curls over his legs as he fucked those full, luscious lips.

“I want to touch you.” Her hands moved to his belt and Cooper grimaced at the want, the need in her voice.

Not yet. Fuck, not yet. He wanted her silky and wild first. He wanted her screaming out in need.

And he sure as hell wasn’t taking a virgin on a fucking picnic table. He was an asshole, but he hadn’t yet sunk there.

“Not yet, baby.” He picked her up, ignoring her surprised breath, loving the way her hands clenched his shoulders, her nails digging into his flesh.

He bet she was a wildcat. All claws and silky heat. He couldn’t wait.

“Where are we going?”

“My fucking bed, sugar.” His voice was tight; hell, his whole body was tight. “I want room to do this right.”

Sarah swallowed tightly as he moved into a well-lit bedroom. The bed was huge, dark. Sunlight spilled through the sheer curtains and open blinds on the windows.

“There we go.”

He laid her back on the bed, following her, stretching out beside her as he speared his fingers into her hair and held her head still for another of those deep, voracious kisses.

She loved it. Loved his lips on hers, hungry and deep, his tongue
licking and stroking, pushing into her mouth and teasing her tongue until she was tasting him, too.

There was no hesitancy in him. Only hunger. Hard, male hunger.

She arched into him as the skirt of her dress slid up her thighs. His hand, big and calloused, stroked her leg, sending flares of white-hot sensations racing through her bloodstream.

When his hand cupped between her thighs, she froze. Stilled. She felt her womb clench, her pussy convulse, and the pleasure. It was terrifying. She had never felt this before. Even in the darkest nights when the need had torn through her, she had never known this sensation.

His lips lifted from hers.

“Like that?”

There was knowledge in his eyes. He didn’t move, just held his hand cupped over the curves of her sex.

Sarah fought to breathe. Her eyes were wide, staring back at him, her body poised at an edge she was desperate to fly over and yet terrified to experience.

“When I make you come, I’m going to make you scream my name.”

His eyes were narrowed, more amber now than hazel.

“Don’t stop.” Her hands gripped his wrist as he pulled back.

“Easy, baby. We’re not ready to go there yet.”

“We are. Really.” Sarah was desperate to go there. Her body was begging to go there.

His chuckle was easy, dark.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes. I’m not fucking you with that skirt around your hips.”

She hadn’t anticipated that. “You could pull the shades,” she breathed out roughly.

His smile was sexy, dark and exciting. “I like the way you look in
the sunlight,” he told her. “I want to see it washing over those pretty breasts.”