Sugar and Spice: A Karma Café Novella (6 page)

There was so much he wanted to do.  So many things he wanted to make her feel.

He reached out, his tan fingers a vivid contrast against her pale skin and the white silky bra, and gently peeled the fabric off her body.  His mouth watered at the sight of her full breast, tipped in perky coral.  The strap slid down her arm, gravity pulling the other side free, too.

Leaving her bare.

He felt like he’d been sucker punched in the gut.  Shocked, breathless, totally unprepared.

“You’re gorgeous,” he breathed.  He ripped his gaze up to meet hers.  

But there were no nerves there.  Just sweet patience.  And, a hot sort of sexual challenge.  His dick throbbed.  He’d never felt this excited, this fast.  Slow, he reminded himself.  Savor her.  Don’t gobble her up.

“I’m glad you approve.”  Her words whisper soft.  Tilting her head to one side, her hair slid over her shoulder.

“Approve?  I’m pretty sure you’ve exceeded all expectations,” he teased.  Desperate to touch, he reached out one hand and cupped her breast, his thumb brushing the swollen tip.  When she gasped, he did it again.

Her nipple pebbled, like knotted silk, against his thumb.  He smiled his approval, then considering it only fair, cupped her other breast and gave it the same treatment.

She gave a tiny, breathy moan.

“You like?” he asked, meeting her eyes, his own gaze slumberous and heavy.  Like he was under the spell of her body, unable to think, to do anything but feel and worship her.

“I like.  A lot.”  She reached, her fingers hesitant for a second, then swift as she undid his shirt buttons.

As much as Paul wanted her hands on him, though, he wanted to touch her more.  So he gave a quick shrug out of the shirt, but shook his head.  “I’m busy.”

Before she could protest, he dropped to his knees in front of her.  His mouth was level with her chest.  Still cupping the sexy bounty, he leaned forward to sip at one nipple, then the other.

Gasping, she grabbed his shoulders for balance, her fingers digging erotically into his flesh.

He swirled his tongue around the pebbled tip of her breast, his hand squeezing at the same time.  When he felt her tremble, a power like he’d never felt before surged through him.  More.  He had to give her more, make her feel more.  He wanted to hear her scream with ecstasy.  To watch her come apart under his hands.

Still squeezing one breast as he sipped, he swept his other hand down the gentle curve of her waist to her hip.  His fingers smoothed the satin garter belt, then down further where a tiny strap of elastic held her panties in place.  With a quick, satisfying snap, he broke the band and let the fabric slide down her silken thighs.

Her gasp was quickly followed by a low moan when he slid his fingers along the crease between her thighs.  Wet.  She was hot and wet.

Paul cupped the sides of her slender waist with both hands.  She was a dream.  Pale, silken skin and smooth curves, highlighted only by the white satin garter belt and creamy hose.  He slipped his fingers along the elastic holding the stockings up, rubbing the tiny white bow with his thumb before letting it snap back against her skin.  She hissed.

He leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss against the reddened flesh.  Her hiss quickly turned to a soft purr.

He blew a puff of air against her curls.  Her breath caught in a soft, mewling sort of moan.  Her fingers curled into his hair, soothing, caressing.

He gripped her butt as he shifted closer.  She widened her stance to make room for him.  As a thanks, he ran his tongue over the swollen bud between her thighs.

So delicious.

He sipped.  He nibbled.  When she shuddered, her fingers digging into his shoulders, he nipped a tiny bite.

Then he slid his fingers, first one, then two, inside her wet, quivering heat and pressed against that magic spot, making her cry out with pleasure.  His body reacted in a flash, his dick pressing painfully tight against the zipper of his jeans.  He had to have her.  Soon.

But first he had to taste her as she came for him for the first time.

Need drove his tongue deep, his fingers working her slick flesh as her breath came in gasps now.  Her moan built, low at first, then rising as her body tightened.  She gripped his hair tight, her fingers kneading like a cat, tight, then soft, tight then soft.  He trailed his free hand down the back of her thigh, pressing, over her silken calf and along the sensitive flesh of her instep.

She exploded.  Her cries rang through the room like music.  Her body convulsed against his mouth, her fingers tight in his hair as if she was afraid he’d move before she was done.

Then, slowly, she took a breath.  He sipped at her damp flesh, making her moan again before the tension seeped out of her fingers, out of her tight thighs.

He was on his feet before she could land.  Swinging her into his arms, he strode into the bedroom, not bothering to pull back the duvet before falling onto the bed with her.  Her fingers raced over his skin, caressing, soothing, reveling.  He loved her voracious need.

“My shoes?” she murmured as she pressed a series of hot, damp kisses against his now bare chest.

“Those stay,” he insisted.  The black, patent leather pumps were so sexy against the vivid red of the bedspread.  He wanted to feel those stiletto heels against his back as he drove into her.  Wanted to know she still had that edgy leather on when he made her scream in ecstasy.

The thought of it almost made him explode then and there.

His eyes on her, almost afraid she was a dream that would disappear if he blinked, he quickly shucked the rest of his clothes, then slid over her body.

Their mouths met.  Tongues entwined, moving in a sensual dance of delight.  Her breasts brushed his chest, the hard nipples like beads of fire.  He curved his hands over her hips, positioning her.

He slid his fingers between her thighs, testing, teasing.

He swallowed her soft moan.  Oh yeah, she was ready.

But he wasn’t.

Paul was pretty sure this was punishment for every rotten thing he’d ever done in his life.  So close that he could feel her damp heat against his erection, yet so far.

“Damn.”  He closed his eyes, grimacing as he rested his forehead against her shoulder.

“Condom?”

“I stopped carrying them in my wallet when I was twenty,” he admitted with a pained smile.

“Good thing I came prepared then.”  Her own smile was both hesitantly nervous and sweetly sexy.

She gestured to the tiny lace pocket he hadn’t noticed on the garter belt, then slid two fingers between the fabric to pull out a small foil packet.

“You are the most incredible woman,” he breathed, taking it like it was his key to the heavenly gates.  “You’re prepared for everything.”

Her smile dimmed for a second, then turned sultry.

“Let’s not waste the preparation, then.”  She ran the flat of her palm down his chest, over his belly and curling her fingers around his straining erection.  “I’m ready.  And from the feel of it, so are you.”

It was like a surge of hot, molten desire shot through her fingers, filling him with need.  Stronger, more demanding, than anything he’d ever felt before.

Incredible.  How the hell had he missed how incredible she was all these years?

Chapter Six

D
edra wasn’t shy in bed, but she’d never grabbed a guy by the dick and told him to get to it before.

She’d never worn a garter belt and heels to bed before, either.  Nor seduced her boss.  Nor, she realized as Paul ranged his long, hard body over hers, had she felt this wonderfully sensual.  Sexy.  Pleasured.

Their mouths met.  She sucked on his tongue, making him moan.  Oh baby, she loved the sound of his moans.  Loved knowing she could give him that kind of pleasure.  Loved the feel of his body sliding against hers.  Of his thickly muscled thighs between her legs.

Then he plunged, rock hard, into her.  Dedra gasped, her eyes flying open to meet his intense gaze.  He was so big.  So powerful.  So perfect as he filled her body.  His eyes flamed, hot and bright with desire as he stared at her, daring her to look away.

It was as if he’d stripped her body bare, then tossed her soul out of hiding, too.  He could see right through her, see all her needs, all her hopes.

She shuddered, terrified he could see her heart and her fears, too.  Needing to hide, to distract him, she swiveled her hips.  It was like flipping a switch.  Her entire body electrified, sparks winding tight, low in her belly.  She swiveled again.  Paul’s groan was low and deep, his body plunging faster, harder.  She met his thrusts with her own, needing more.  Harder.  Faster.

“More,” she demanded, her hands racing over his sleek body, from his strong shoulders to the hard planes of his sculpted butt.

He gave her more.  His thrusts were long, slow, powerful.  Then he sped up.  Just a little at first, taking her on a spiraling trip upward, higher.  Higher.  As if at his complete command, she flew up, like fireworks, then exploded.

Her body convulsed.  Wave after wave after wave of passion crashed over her, sweeping her away in a deliciously intense climax.  Her throat was dry from her gasping breaths, her heart pounding so hard it rang in her head.  She clenched her fingers, digging into his waist.  Another wave hit.  She whimpered, unable to resist riding it, too.  Her thighs trembled, clutching tight against his hips, trying to wring every last drop of pleasure she could get from his body.

“Incredible,” he breathed, his face buried in her throat.  “You.  Me.  Us.  This is amazing.”

Slowly, reluctantly, she peeled her eyes open to stare up at the man she loved.  Yes, dammit, loved.  Not had a crush on.  This wasn’t some infatuation, as she’d hoped.  Nope, it was bone deep, know the man inside out, love him despite his foibles and worship him for being a sex god.  The real thing, capital L, love.

Thankfully, Paul’s eyes were closed, as if he was savoring the afterglow of his orgasm.  His breath was shallow, his face flushed.  A light sheen of sweat coated his chest.

She’d done that, she realized with a shaky smile.  She’d made him feel that good.

At least it was something.

As if sensing her gaze, he opened his eyes and gave her a sleepy smile.  With a soft, sweet kiss, he rolled away and dealt with the condom.  Before she could do more than pull aside the bedding to hide under, he was back, pulling her into his arms.

As he curved his body around hers, she couldn’t resist the comfort of snuggling tighter against him, grateful he couldn’t see her face.  She wouldn’t cry, she promised herself.  She wouldn’t ruin this, or cause a scene, with tears.

Still, she couldn’t hold back one shaky sniffle.

She told herself she was glad her loss of control didn’t wake him.  That she was thrilled that she—or jetlag—had worn him out so well that within minutes his arm was a heavy band around her waist as he gave in to exhaustion.

It was easier this way.

At least, that’s what she told herself as she slowly, carefully, slid out from under his arm.  Away from his body.

Dedra shivered as she stood in just her garter belt and stockings, staring down at the man she loved.

She had to go.  Now.

Scooping up her shoes, she tiptoed toward the living room.  She stopped at the chair where she’d folded her clothes, setting the shoes on the stack of files there so she could gracelessly wriggle the too tight skirt over her pantiless-butt, and pull the barely-buttonable blouse over her thankfully-intact bra.

Her eyes glazed with tears, she hurried to the door.  Her fingers wrapped around the handle as she realized the shoes were still on the table.  The mantle clock chimed midnight.  Paul stirred, the blankets rustling as he rolled over.

Her heart raced as Dedra tugged the door open.  The shoes could stay.  She had to get the hell out of here before something horrible happened.  Like him forcing her to talk about what had happened.  Or worse, her jumping his body one more time.

She pulled the door shut behind her and leaned against the cold wood, fighting back tears.  Then again, how much more horrible could it get?  How was she supposed to have known that the best sex she’d ever had would ruin her life?

Paul awoke gradually, a groggy fog layering with confusion.  And worse, emptiness.  Something was missing.

It took a heartbeat to remember the abruptly canceled vacation, the pending board takeover attempt and the crazy lengths he was going to in order to wrestle controlling interest in Chastain in the hands of, well the Chastains.

Slowly, reluctantly, he forced his eyelids open.

And frowned at the horrific view.  Who the hell had painted his walls lime green?  He blinked.  Wait.  These weren’t his walls.  Or his house.  

The last remnants of sleep disappeared.

As soon as Paul sat up, he realized what was missing.

Dedra.

She was supposed to be here, in his arms.

Paul Chastain had a damned good life, by anyone’s standards.  He’d grown up with money, had the challenge of making the family company an even bigger success than it’d been when he’d been handed the reins, and still had plenty of freedom to enjoy everything he liked.

Sure, he had to answer to a persnickety board of directors with their heads stuck in the past.  But for the most part, he’d been pretty happy with his world.

Now he knew he’d barely been living.

Because he’d never felt anything compared to what he’d felt in Dedra’s arms.  He’d fallen asleep with the realization that this was it, he’d finally found happiness.  True, inner joy.  He’d never experienced anything like it.

He scowled, looking around the room for Dedra.  Why wasn’t he feeling it now?  Where the hell had she gone?  He glanced at the ornate clock, all gilt and crystal shaped like a pumpkin.  A few minutes past midnight.  He hadn’t dozed long.  She was probably out in the other room.  The girl was a work-addict.  He was going to have to change that.  He grinned as he slid from the bed, and just in case she was suddenly modest, hauled the sheet with him.

“Dedra?” he called out.