Best Of Makeovers Bundle Part 50

"This is great," he said.

She thanked her lucky stars that she'd splurged on the new couch and rug, then kicked herself. She didn't care what he thought about her apartment or anything else. The only thing she cared about where Marc was concerned was how hard he could get, how often.

She took the paper parcel from his hands. "I'll go grab some plates," she said.

She stepped into the kitchen and put the parcel on the counter. Who was she kidding? The fish and chips smelled fantastic-but all she wanted to do was rip Marc's clothes off. She let out a ragged breath, then returned to the living room where Marc was standing, both hands jammed into his jean pockets now.

"Anyone ever told you how great fish and chips are when they're cold?" she said lightly, eyes devouring his tall body hungrily.

"Couldn't agree more," he said, grinning widely.

She grabbed the hem of her T-s.h.i.+rt and pulled it over her head. She was wearing a stretchy tank top underneath in place of a bra, and she pulled that off, too. He was busy dragging off his own T-s.h.i.+rt.

Smiling, she leaned forward and tagged him on the arm.

"You're it," she said, then she turned on her heel and sauntered toward the bedroom.

MARC STARED AFTER HER, his arms still half in, half out of his T-s.h.i.+rt. She had the s.e.xiest walk in all the world, especially in the clingy yoga pants she was wearing-part enticement, part provocation. It had been hard making the decision to come over here tonight, especially after last night. He didn't want her getting the idea he was a s.e.x fiend or anything. But the plain truth of it was that he just couldn't get her out of his mind. And he didn't have to-he could have her now. There was no need to pretend or dress it up. But he'd still stopped for food on his way over. After all, she'd said she couldn't cook, and they were bound to get hungry at some point.

Shedding his jeans, he followed her into the bedroom, his erection nudging his stomach as he walked. She was on the bed, naked, her eyes hooded. As he watched, she ran her hands over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, then trailed one down her belly until her fingers were delving into the folds between her legs.

"I've been thinking about you all afternoon," she said.

"I've been thinking about you, too," he said, feeling his erection harden further as she began to play with herself, her eyes never leaving him.

He moved onto the bed, felt the mattress dip beneath his weight.

"Why keep a dog and bark yourself?" he said into her ear as he swept her hand away from between her legs and pinned it to the bed beside her.

She laughed, but her eyes glinted challengingly at him as he moved on top of her, his p.e.n.i.s finding its way unerringly to the hot, wet entrance he craved. Noting the condom box on the bedside table, he tore off a foil pack and quickly sheathed himself. She lifted her hips, spreading her legs wider.

"Now," she told him, and he stared down at her as he gave her exactly what she was asking for.

She clenched hot and tight around him, her hips sinuously tilting to prolong the slide when he withdrew. He plunged again, and she threw back her head, her throat long and vulnerable as she moaned her pleasure. Her hands clutched at the linen beneath them as he picked up his rhythm, and he dropped forward to tongue her nipples. She arched her back, crying out, her hips bucking again and again.

She was so hot. They were so hot. Already he could feel the urge to rush it coming on him. He pulled a nipple into his mouth, sucking hard. Her hands reached for his b.u.t.t, and she gripped him tight, pulling him toward her, urging him to go faster, harder, longer, deeper.

Again, he gave the lady what she wanted, because it was exactly what he wanted, too. She was panting beneath him, her face taut with desire. Her intensity was almost enough to tip him over, and he deliberately slowed things down, trying to get a grip. He wasn't ready, not just yet....

Her hands clenched harder on his b.u.t.t, urging him to step up the pace again, but instead he withdrew until just the head of his p.e.n.i.s was inside her. She opened her mouth to protest, but he reached between them and slid his fingers deftly into the moist curls of her mons. Her c.l.i.toris was swollen and ready for him, and he slicked his finger over it, enjoying the way she flinched. He circled his hips, nudging the head of his p.e.n.i.s against her inner lips, keeping up the pressure on her c.l.i.toris. She closed her eyes, b.r.e.a.s.t.s rising and falling dramatically as she tried to keep pace with the storm raging inside her. She clenched involuntarily around him, and he plunged all the way inside her again, hard and deep, keeping up a punis.h.i.+ng rhythm as she came around him, her inner muscles pulsating, tight, so tight. He closed his eyes, dropping forward to cover her body as his own o.r.g.a.s.m shook him. Her hands were still clutching at his b.u.t.t, and he could feel her hot breath on his neck. After a few minutes, he realized that he must be heavy, and tensed to move.

"No. Stay," she said. He felt the distinct pressure as she flexed her inner muscles around him. He wasn't a bit surprised to find himself growing hard again. She always got him hot. He was getting used to it now.

Slowly, leisurely, he withdrew a few inches. Then slowly, leisurely, he drove back down. She matched her hip movements to his, her movements just as languid, her eyes hooded as she looked up at him.

He closed his eyes, reveling in the slick, slippery heat of her. He didn't know what it was that made them so good together, but whatever it was, it just kept getting hotter. Proof positive that you could never get too much of a good thing.

Afterward, they sat cross-legged on her living room rug and ate cold fish and chips with their fingers. Her hair was mussed, pressed flat on one side, and she wasn't wearing a sc.r.a.p of makeup. She still looked dangerously attractive, her big toffee eyes alternately teasing or challenging as they talked. She'd pulled on a short silk robe, and every time she laughed he was treated to a tantalizing glimpse of a pale pink nipple as the gown slid open. Insatiable, his p.e.n.i.s stirred in his boxers.

Reaching for another handful of chips, his eye was caught by the series of thick books filling one of the bookcases on either side of her open fireplace.

"Who did you used to lawyer for?" he asked impulsively, intrigued by the riddle that she represented. So clever and bright, yet she'd turned her back on a lucrative white-collar career.

"Gallagher, Worth and Jones," she said impa.s.sively, as though she wasn't naming one of the most prestigious firms in town.

He whistled, impressed. "Big time. Why'd you give it up?"

He could see her withdraw before she shrugged. "Didn't need the stress. Realized I was working when I could have been living."

She didn't want to talk about it. That much was obvious. He shut the door on his curiosity, recognizing that it had no place in their relations.h.i.+p. He deliberately turned his attention back to the bookshelf, following her cue to change the subject. What he saw there made him turn to her with a teasing smile.

"Harry Potter? Now there's a guilty secret," he said.

She blushed, smoothing her hand over her hair self-consciously. "Had to see what all the fuss was about," she said, shrugging.

"Overrated, if you ask me," he deadpanned.

She stared at him. "You have not read Harry Potter!"

"Only the first two. Got a bit sick of it by then," he said.

She eyed him narrowly. "I don't know if you're having me on or not," she said after a moment.

"One thing you should know about me, I never lie," he said.

She eyed him, then nodded, and he could tell she believed him. "Good. Neither do I," she said.

He liked that about her, the way she looked him in the eye, made sure he got the message she was sending.

Desire twisted inside him again. Registering that they'd both finished eating a long time ago, he rolled up the paper and crushed it into a ball. He levered himself to his feet, then stepped through to the kitchen, dumping the rubbish in the bin. Then he moved next door to the bathroom, where he found a face cloth. A minute later, he returned to the living room and offered her the hot cloth to wash her greasy fingers.

"Wow. Silver service," she said as she wiped her hands.

"You ain't seen nothing yet, lady," he said, leering comically.

She laughed, but he could see she was excited, too. A pulse flickered at her throat, and her nipples were hardening even as he watched.

Smiling to himself, he returned the cloth to the bathroom and hauled a.r.s.e back to the living room in record time. She'd pulled some cus.h.i.+ons from the couch down onto the big, fluffy rug, and was lounging back on them, gown open now, waiting.

"I was thinking of you when I bought this," she said, running her fingers through the rug's rich texture.

"Yeah?" he asked as he joined her.

"Yeah. I had this vision of you, stretched out, naked. Hard."

She slid her hands over his body as she spoke, one hand delving beneath the waistband of his boxers and reaching unerringly for his erection.

"Well, far be it from me to disappoint," he said.

She laughed, and he captured her smile with a kiss. Her mirth soon died as pa.s.sion flared, and he pushed her back onto the cus.h.i.+ons, his hands slow and gentle as he traced her creamy skin from the sensitive place behind her ear, down her neck, across her collarbone and onto the s.e.xy slope of her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Determined to take his time, he circled each nipple with his forefinger, then moved closer to gently suck and tease them with his mouth.

"You should do this for a living," she said drowsily.

His laugh was m.u.f.fled by her b.r.e.a.s.t.s, and he continued on his voyage of discovery, cupping her in his hands, rubbing his thumbs over the coral pink tips as they strained upward for his attention. He kissed the curve of her breast where it met her arm, loving the taste of her. Everything about her drove him wild. Switching his attention to her other breast, he went to work. If a job was worth doing, it was worth doing well, after all.

SHE COULD NEVER GET enough of this, she thought hazily as he moved slowly over her b.r.e.a.s.t.s. Her hips lifted instinctively, seeking an invasion that was not yet there. But it would come, she knew it would come. And that knowledge was already swelling the sensitive folds between her legs, filling her with liquid heat.

"Oh, Marc," she whispered as he suckled on a nipple, biting it gently while his left hand plucked at her other breast.

She could feel her heartbeat echoing thickly between her thighs, and she s.h.i.+fted her hips again, increasingly gripped with need.

She knew the exact moment he saw the small, neat incision in the crease beneath her breast. Her surgeon had been brilliant, and there was no stiffness or roughness around the scar itself-just a thin, neat pale pink line, maybe an inch and a half long. Under normal circ.u.mstances, it was invisible. Indeed, even during several bouts of energetic, voracious s.e.x it had remained undetected. But it couldn't survive the kind of attention Marc was lavis.h.i.+ng on her b.r.e.a.s.t.s right now.

He ran a gentle finger over the scar, and she tried not to stiffen in reaction. This was the last thing she wanted to talk about. The very last. He raised his head, questions in his eyes, and she shrugged a shoulder lightly.

"Accident," she said briefly. She wasn't a practiced liar, and she didn't trust herself to elaborate. And she didn't want to, either.

To her everlasting relief, he accepted her explanation, ducking his head to kiss the scar briefly before s.h.i.+fting his attention back to her nipple. Relieved, she dropped back onto the cus.h.i.+ons. She'd just told him that she didn't lie, yet she'd proven herself a liar at the first opportunity.

But he didn't need to know about her cancer. She didn't want him to know, better still. It had no place in the kind of relations.h.i.+p they had. Gradually the tension banding her shoulders relaxed and a new kind of tension took its place as Marc began licking and sucking his way down her belly.

It didn't matter. Nothing mattered, except for the fact that in a few seconds time she was about to receive head from a past master. That was what she should be concentrating on, and nothing else.

Life is about now, she reminded herself. Sighing, she gave herself over entirely to the moment.

8.

THREE DAYS LATER, Anna stuffed her feet into high heels as a knock sounded at her door. She click-clacked her way across the polished floorboards to open the door to her brother. He let out a low whistle when he saw that she was wearing her black halter-neck dress again.

"The lady is dressed to thrill. Wait till my boss sees you," he said, grabbing her hand and spinning her so he could admire her from all angles.

Anna smiled and grabbed her shawl and evening bag. "I'm ready. Let's motor," she said.

"I'm not driving," Danny explained. "I've got a cab waiting downstairs."

"You should have said!" Anna exclaimed, pus.h.i.+ng him out the door and locking it behind them. "Is the meter still ticking?"

Danny just shrugged. Anna gave him a poke in the ribs with her elbow as she made her way downstairs.

"You make too much money, that's your problem," she said.

"Not from where I'm sitting," Danny replied, adjusting his black tie.

He was taking her to an advertising industry award night, an annual gala that he'd invited her to a month or so back. One of Danny's print ads was up for an award for best creative, and she planned on embarra.s.sing him if he won.

They settled into the back of the taxi and pulled on seat belts as the driver accelerated away from the curb.

"So, how're things?" Danny asked, winking suggestively. "You'll note I've been very discreet and not called once to see how your hot date with your big stud went."

Anna noted the way the driver's eyes flicked to the rearview mirror on hearing Danny's words.

"Danny, you have never been discreet in your life," she said, rolling her eyes.

"True. Which brings us back to my original question...."

"Things went well," she said. She couldn't stop the secret smile that stole to her lips.

"You dirty dog," Danny said, his tone light. "I thought you had the bright-eyed look of the recently s.h.a.gged-senseless."

Anna choked back a laugh. "You have a real way with words."

"Tell that to the awards committee."

Danny was frowning, tweaking the French cuffs on his s.h.i.+rt. Anna studied him. Was he nervous? Surely not her Danny, king of cool?

"Got some b.u.t.terflies in your tummy, little brother?" she teased.

He shot her a dirty look. "This is a big deal, you know. An industry award means more money, more prestige, a bigger office."

"Plus you get told publicly that you're the best," Anna added mischievously.

Danny grinned. "That, too."

She gave his hand a squeeze. "You're the best in my book," she said.

Danny snorted. "That's what you're supposed to say at the end of the night, after I've lost out to some wet-behind-the-ears graduate."

"But this way you know I mean it," she said.

Danny tweaked his cuffs again, obviously still edgy. "So where's the big man tonight? Hope I didn't cramp your style, but I had dibs on you first since we organized this ages ago."

"I'm not sure. I think he mentioned a work dinner." She shrugged. It was none of her business what Marc did when they weren't together. And she'd seen him last night, anyway. And the night before. Every night, in fact, since she'd first laid down the rules for their fling.

She crossed her legs, thinking about the hours of intense s.e.x they'd shared the previous evening. It just seemed to get better and better between them. So good that it was hard to stop herself from thinking about him during the day. That was probably part of the problem. She spent so much time thinking about him, about his body, and the expression he got in his eyes when he looked at her, that by the end of the day she was almost crazy with antic.i.p.ation.

Fortunately, every night so far he'd felt the same way. They'd fallen into a pattern of sorts-they'd try to make it through the day, then one or the other of them would give in first. On Monday, it had been her. She'd arrived on his doorstep after dinner, heart drumming in her ears. Tuesday night it had been him, leaning against his car outside her apartment block when she arrived home from her last job of the day. And last night it had been mutual-they'd pa.s.sed each other on the road that connected Rose Bay to Point Piper. Her cell phone had rung almost immediately, and she'd grinned and pulled a U-turn to race him back to her apartment.

It was pretty amazing, really. She'd gone from being a poster girl for celibacy and self-restraint to borderline s.e.x addict in the s.p.a.ce of a few weeks. Not that she was addicted, of course. She was just getting an urge out of her system. Fortunately she'd found a clever, talented lover to help her with the process.

As usual, just thinking about Marc made parts of her stand to attention. She recrossed her legs and tried to think about something else.

Problem was, if she was being completely honest with herself, she was actually feeling a little nervous at the thought of not getting her nightly fix of Marc's hot body this evening. It was pretty embarra.s.sing admitting that to herself, but there it was. She had that distinct jittery, itchy and scratchy feeling she'd gotten when she wanted him and couldn't have him.