NicenEasy Read online

  “Yes,” she said, in a breath that was hardly a whisper. “I’ll come.”

  Would she ever.

  *

  He’d booked a suite. A living room, bedroom and bathroom with a kitchenette off the living room. Not disgustingly luxurious, like a penthouse suite, but far better than her room, which up until now she’d thought large and comfortable.

  She had to say something. “Wow, you’re a star of the show?”

  He turned to face her, suspicion closing the expression on his face. “What do you mean?”

  “The big authors and the organizers of the con have suites. The rest of us have rooms.”

  He shrugged. “I like to be comfortable and they had a suite available. That’s all.”

  Yeah, she’d bet. Life on the road was a real drag, sleeping in the back of vans and traveling all night. Allie shook her head disgustedly. He could have whatever he wanted. He’d earned it, for sure. Her nervousness was trying to find excuses for her to leave, her conscience screaming at her, Get out, get out! Allie decided to ignore the spiteful bitch.

  Unable to stay away a millisecond longer, she moved toward him. “I don’t do things like this.” Not for real. But at the thought, liquid soaked her panties.

  “Like what?” He reached out, drew her to him and as she looked up into his face, dropped a gentle kiss on her forehead. “We’ll only go as far as you want to.” He smiled. “I aim to persuade you to do everything. All of it. But I won’t force you.” The smile turned wicked. “Unless you want it.”

  “Only one night,” she said.

  He lost the smile. “I don’t do meaningless one-night stands. Not these days. Gave them up a while back.”

  She wondered at that. Rock stars defined one-night stands, so if he wanted a sex life, how could he avoid it? In any case, her fantasy didn’t involve more than that. Not that she could tell him. “My client arrives tomorrow.”

  His caressing hand stilled. “What kind of client?”

  She stared up at him and her heart quickened when she understood what he thought. Client, hotel, duh. “I’m an Assistant Editor with Casterbridge. A new author is arriving tomorrow and it’s my job to look after him. He’s nervous because he’s hit big with his first book, so I’m babysitting him.”

  A smile quirked the corner of his mouth. It made him look sexily mischievous. “Sorry.”

  “That’s okay.” His apology and her acceptance, so easily done, as if they knew each other well. A guilty pang hit her when she recalled that she knew more about him and he didn’t know that. He thought she hadn’t recognized him. It wasn’t as if Murder City Ravens was a teenage sensation kind of band, on every reality singing show around, but they’d still received a lot of exposure. If she didn’t watch talk shows or watch video channels, she supposed she could have missed it. Or she might have heard of the band but not know them by sight.

  Should she tell him? It might be best. Before she did, he went first. “I guess I jumped to conclusions. Can we be just this, Donovan and Allie? Nothing else for now?”

  She swallowed her confession back because she wanted him more than she wanted the truth right now. “Okay. Just us.”

  “I like that.” He lowered his head to kiss her. She met him halfway, going on tiptoe and holding on to his shoulders.

  He took possession. No hesitation, no doubts, he took her and, with a single-mindedness that matched his, she followed him into the abyss.

  She had no idea how long they kissed, but it was so delicious, she didn’t know if she even wanted to move on. Ideally, they’d kiss for a week, then caress each other for another, and ease into lovemaking, but they had no time for that. They only had one night. Already she was going beyond her own personal fantasy and thinking of two, if her author decided to give her a break and get an early night and Donovan wasn’t busy. Too many ifs to rely on that happening. All she could guarantee was now.

  He broke the kiss and stared at her with a wonder that mirrored her own. “Wow.”

  “Yeah.” She fought to regain her breath, and then he took it away again.

  “Bedroom?”

  She nodded. He took her hand and led her to the other room. If she’d known where it was, she’d have done the leading, but once there he didn’t stop until they reached the wide, inviting bed. Its cover was the same color as the one in her room, a dusty gray, but the fabric looked better and the bed much larger. Not that she cared overmuch. Against the door, on the floor—as long as they fucked, and soon. She tugged at his T-shirt. He brushed her hands away and ripped it over his head.

  Oh shit, he was perfect. Smooth muscle responded to his movements, his skin lightly tanned, and he had a small tattoo on his left shoulder. She didn’t have to stare at it to know it was an eagle in flight. He had a bracelet on his upper left arm, barbed wire in black, which was emphasized when he played wearing short sleeves. He rarely went topless on stage, but Allie wasn’t too proud to admit that she lived for those few times. She even had some shots on her computer, shaky videos captured by fans and one memorable studio photo, when the whole band went topless. The only one she knew about, and she’d searched thoroughly.

  Now she had all that deliciousness to herself. Without stopping to rationalize, she leaned into him and licked the eagle. It tasted wonderful.

  Donovan stepped back. “Hey, that tickles. How about it being your turn? You can lick George all you want later.”

  The promise gave her thrills. She paused. “George?”

  He gave a self-conscious laugh. “Yes, how about that? My sister claimed it had to have a name, so I called it George. Out of the blue.”

  “I think George is a perfectly wonderful name.”

  He gestured to her, flapping one hand. “Off.”

  Swallowing, she obeyed, unbuttoning her silk top in record time, then stripping it down her arms and letting it fall.

  A half-smile curved one corner of his mouth. “Very nice. But you’re still behind me.”

  He was topless, she wasn’t. Her mouth went dry as familiar anxiety clawed at her. She’d never felt fully happy with her body, especially since sharing the room with Nancy, who’d kindly suggested a surgeon last night. B-cup breasts didn’t cut it with men these days, apparently.

  When she removed her bra, she realized Nancy had got it wrong, with this man anyway. His gaze fixed on her nipples, already hardening without any stimulation other than his greedy gaze.

  He didn’t touch her, as she expected. Instead, he kept his attention on her while he unbuttoned the fly of his jeans and shoved them down his legs, peeling off his underwear and socks, kicking off his shoes before removing them.

  Completely, utterly buck-naked. So beautiful. Legs that powered his stage performances now planted firmly apart, toes gripping the soft carpet while he raised a brow and stared at her. “You’re dawdling.”

  Not for long. She wore black tailored pants, obedient to the smart-casual dictate of her boss, but she lost them now, as fast as he’d lost his, and without giving herself a chance to chicken out.

  They joined his clothes on the floor. His smile broadened. “Better. Much better.” He took the step that separated them, his warmth searing her as he took her into his arms and hauled her close. At the same time, he lowered his head to join their mouths in another of those soul-destroying kisses. She didn’t know how she would stand it, but sure as fuck she would.

  He lifted his head, smiled down at her. “Damn, that’s good.” After turning her, he reached behind him to the bed and swept the covers aside, revealing crisp white sheets, and then tugged her so she lost her balance and tumbled over him as they both went down.

  His firm body cushioned her, his arms supporting her, tightening around her as they fell, laughing. Her hair fell over her face but he released her to sweep his big hand over her, tucking her hair behind her ears and then cupping the back of her head so he could bring her close for his kiss. He tasted her, taking his time in that way she already enjoyed so much. Sweet and sure, hi
s kiss told her how much he wanted her and she gave that desire back to him.

  His hard cock pressed between them and when she moved she felt the trail of dampness on her stomach. “You feel marvelous,” he murmured against her mouth. “Like a Sunday treat.”

  Nobody had called her “marvelous” before. Allie thrilled to his words, arching her body into his, trying to come into contact with every inch of him. He chuckled and rubbed his muscles against her. “That’s how I feel too. I want it all and I want it now.”

  “So what are we waiting for?”

  “We’re savoring each other and enjoying the moment. Don’t think about what’s coming next or what’s been. Just enjoy now.”

  She liked that. “Is that your philosophy of life?”

  “Pretty much.” His eyes clouded almost imperceptibly. “Sometimes it doesn’t work, but most times it does.”

  “I’m all for that.” She chuckled, sending reverberations through them both. “And if it doesn’t work, I can blame you.”

  “Blame me all you like.”

  Without warning, he rolled, taking her with him so that she was now on the bottom. He reached out a long arm and found the bedside table, grabbing a packet. She’d noticed the orange wrapped squares on the nightstand somewhere between upright and flat, and felt nothing but gladness that he’d come to the conference prepared.

  The nightstand contained a jumble of books, papers, receipts and the condoms, no real order to any of it. “You always carry that many around with you?”

  “I just buy them when I think of them.” He followed her gaze and chuckled. “There are quite a few. What do you say we go for the record?”

  “I have to be up in the morning,” she reminded him.

  “How about just up?” He dropped a kiss on her nose. “Remember, think for the moment. If this feels right, then we should do it without regrets.”

  “Will you stop fucking philosophizing?”

  Conversation stopped when she reached down and folded her fingers around his cock.

  He groaned low in his throat, almost musical, and retaliated by bending to take her nipple in his mouth.

  He sucked hard, then released it to the cooler air, forcing sensitivity to increase, making her gasp in shock. Her fingers stilled in their exploration and her mind froze. He kissed around her nipple, then touched the tip of his tongue to one peak. She felt that soft touch in every part of her body. He lapped and tickled, making her nipple more responsive than she’d imagined it could be, until she recalled where she had her hand.

  The tip of his cock was wet, his body preparing for her by providing copious natural lubricant. She spread it around the silky skin with her thumb, exploring him, then traced the ridge under the cap, nicely indented, ready for her tongue, if she could get there. He was bigger and he was proving it, holding her bracketed between his arms while he enjoyed her body.

  She enjoyed him enjoying her. He was right—now was all that mattered. If he appeared in the bar tomorrow, telling everyone that he had fucked her, she could retaliate. She knew who he was. But deep down, she trusted him. He wouldn’t tell. In her fantasies, her hot rock star told everyone and offered her to everyone, but she knew the difference between fantasy and reality. Reality was turning out a whole lot better.

  He traced his tongue around the curve under one breast. B-cup or no, he seemed to like what she had to offer. “A gorgeous handful,” he said, spreading his hand over the breast that hadn’t been the lucky recipient of his kisses. Oh yes, he liked them fine.

  Down to her navel, where another murmur emerged. “An innie. My favorite.” He proceeded to prove it, exploring her, laughing when she squeaked and jerked. He kissed his way to the soft spot inside her hip, lingering, reminding her how responsive she was there. Not many men realized that; they tended to go straight for the primary areas. This man was more playful and more exploratory than most of her bed partners. Just how exploratory, she wondered, and a vivid series of pictures came to mind, straight out of her fantasies. Not just the one about all the members of the band fucking her one after the other, but more private ones, of situations rather than people. She’d always wondered if she’d be as turned-on in real life. Fuck, yeah.

  He explored lower, to the tuft of hair her beautician allowed to grow at the apex of her legs.

  He seemed to approve by the way he combed through, easing his fingers through the curls. “Lovely.” His voice deepened and a rough edge entered the previously smooth tone. “I can see you, I can smell you.”

  “Oh!” She tried to jerk away but he held her down, wouldn’t let her go.

  “There is nothing wrong with the smell of a fresh ready-for-fucking woman, and you, sweetheart, are all of that. And I love it.” She had no idea what he would do before he did it, as he swooped down and licked her, opening to her clit, and then made a sound like a man enjoying his food. “Mmm. Nothing beats it.” He lifted his head, gazing up at her. “Except maybe for one thing.”

  He lifted on his hands and came back up the bed to her, balancing effortlessly on one arm while he sheathed himself. She watched, mouth watering. All for her.

  When he caught her watching, a smile spread over his face. Sweet and sexy at the same time, wholly irresistible. Not that she was trying to resist him.

  He took his cock in one hand and gave her a questioning look, brimful of mischief. “Ready?”

  She nodded. “More than.”

  “Let’s go.”

  Glancing down, he guided his cock to her entrance and moved forward, the motion so slight she hardly felt it. Although she did. The feel of him against her skin for the first time, but she hoped not the last tonight, made her gasp.

  “Feel it,” he said, his voice positively gritty now. “Good?”

  “So good.”

  “Every touch, every sensation. Remember it.”

  “Fuck, yes.” She would, she knew it. Every second. She’d never appreciated this, the way he was making her experience every moment, every slight touch. She could smell her sex now, and she reveled in it as he did. Knowing it made her wetter—she felt the liquid, which could only be her because he was sheathed now, soak her thighs, make her even more ready for him. That beautiful, long cock was about to—

  Oh, shit. Fan-fucking-tastic.

  She lost the ability to think. This gorgeous man was pushing into her body, forcing her pussy to accept him, her walls opening with the embrace of a lover to sheathe him more fully than latex ever could.

  He sank inside, not stopping until her body met his, their pubic bones nudging each other in complete intimacy. “Shit, that’s good.”

  She found her voice. Barely. “Yes. Better than good.”

  He chuckled. “And I’m supposed to be the one who can use words.”

  “Editors have to be pretty smart too,” she protested, always defensive of her profession.

  “They do.” He smiled suddenly and swiveled his hips, making her squirm and gasp as sparks spread through her, radiating up to the top of her head and the tips of her toes.

  Smile and swivel. Both deadly. To her, at any rate.

  To any woman, she thought, but right now he belonged to her, and she intended to make the very best of it.

  Sleep? Time enough to sleep when she was dead.

  He withdrew, drove back, watching her face intently all the time, and she gasped at the impact as their bodies collided in bliss.

  His muttered “Fuck!” reflected her feelings exactly. This was so much more, even than she dreamed or imagined, and boy, had she imagined.

  Chills chased thrills, and every time she arched her body to meet his downward thrusts, it got better and better. Stronger every time. She bit her lip, only to find him bending to kiss her, soothing away her teeth marks with his tongue and then the press of his lips against hers. He tasted her, his tongue as thorough in her mouth as his cock was in her pussy, both driving hard but different rhythms, working her toward ecstasy.

  Her cry came from a sense of wonder.
She didn’t know if her fantasies were driving this incredible sense of rightness, of sheer, unadulterated joy.

  He leaned up, watching her, and she saw his sweat-sheened chest, the little eagle on his shoulder glimmering in the low light of the bedside lamps. She saw enough to appreciate the vision of Donovan Harvey working hard, driving them both to a place where she at least had never been before.

  When she thought she couldn’t get any higher, he took her there. She opened her eyes and saw him watching her intently, waiting for her reaction. She reached for him and he kissed her again. Curling her hand around his neck, she held him there, waited for that breathless moment when the stars were at their brightest, just before they fell.

  She plunged down but not into an abyss. A swooping, surging wave. Allie had never surfed, but she imagined it must feel like this, stomach bottoming out, balance barely there, a seemingly endless fall but with a soft landing at the end.

  No, no soft landing after all, but a sharp jolt back into joy, bright lights exploding behind her eyes when she closed them, but she forced them open again, wanting to keep her eyes fixed on that ice-gray, darker now his pupils had expanded. So close to hers, so right. So fucking right.

  He drew away from their kiss, still watching her, and she watched him right through the rest of her orgasm even though she wanted to squeeze them shut and intensify the feelings, close her senses right down so touch became the most important.

  Except she couldn’t. She wanted it all. Every second, every moment of this amazing man. As she watched, he gritted his teeth, a guttural sound making its way through them, strong, primitive and heartfelt in its intensity.

  At last, he closed his eyes and his orgasm rocketed through her, pushing her to another series of contractions in a gentler echo of her first climax. The musculature of his arms was sharply defined as he locked them in a clear effort to prevent himself falling on her.

  His chest heaved as he pulled in breath after breath. A lock of hair fell across his forehead and he flicked it back with a toss of his head as he gave a very shaky sound, half growl, half chuckle.