The V-Spot Page 8

  Emma nodded. So very ready.

  Chapter Seven

  Kneeling beside her on the bed, Brody drizzled some of the oil down each of her arms, quietly concentrating on his task. It tickled, especially on the delicate undersides. The smell of coconut filled the air. Emma closed her eyes to best savor the moment without distraction from the mirror overhead.

  He set his big hands to her skin, his touch surprisingly gentle as he massaged each finger from tip to base, the motion reminiscent of her mouth on his erection a few moments ago. Very erotic. He took his time, methodical in his attention, not missing a single spot, pushing his thumbs into her palms, softening his touch at her wrists, down her forearms, easily circling them, kneading her flesh.

  Always one to give credit where credit was due Emma told him, “That feels wonderful.”

  When he reached her shoulders he paid special attention to her muscles there and in her neck, his technique skilled. Absolute heaven. She moaned her appreciation. “Your hands are magic.”

  “They’re just getting started.”

  Her body buzzed with delight at the prospect of more.

  A splash of oil hit her chest.

  Emma breathed it in. “I won’t be able to use my suntan lotion without thinking of you.”

  “Good. I want you to think of me doing this.” He caressed the tops of her breasts, sliding a hand beneath each, lifting, as if trying to determine their weight. “And this.” He moved to her nipples, squeezing and rolling them between his greased fingers.

  She rocked her hips, trying to attract his attention, wanting his slippery fingers elsewhere.

  “I’m in the mood for coconut.” Brody shifted on the bed, lifting her right breast. “Time to find out if this stuff tastes as good as they say it does.” He drew her into his mouth, tongued her hardened peak then sucked, hard.

  Emma fought the cuffs, wanting her hands free to hold him in place, so he’d never leave, never stop. “That feels so unbelievably fantastic.” She had to move, couldn’t keep still, wanted and demanded, “More.”

  “Patience, birthday girl.”

  Lucky for him her hands weren’t free or she’d have smacked the smug right out of him. She didn’t want to be patient, she wanted him inside her, now. “Please.” Lord help her, that sounded very much like begging.

  “Please what?”

  He moved to her other nipple, taking it a little rough, and so perfectly her jaw actually felt a little tingly when she answered. “I need you inside me.” Now.

  He stopped sucking long enough to say, “Not yet.” Then he got back to it, seeming ravenous, insatiable. Apparently the edible body oil did, in fact, taste as good as they said it did.

  “On top of me, then. I need to feel you.” To feel the pressure of his arousal between her legs, against the part of her so desperate for his touch, or her touch, or any touch for that matter.

  He sat up.

  Yes!

  Emma closed her eyes, bracing to accept his weight, to feel his heated bare skin on her heated bare skin—well, except for her elastic lace-covered middle.

  Brody moved on the bed.

  Emma’s excitement grew, only to whoosh out when he picked up her left foot. She lifted her head to squint down at him. “You’re mean.” Though, to be honest, foot rubs were one of her favorite things, the main reason for her weekly pedicures.

  Brody gave each toe special attention, running his long, oiled fingers between them.

  “I’ll get there, I promise.”

  When he dug his thumbs into her arch, it felt so good Emma groaned out, “No rush,” and dropped her head back to the pillow, deciding to live in the moment rather than in anticipation of things to come, to enjoy every second of him carefully, conscientiously massaging each foot, working his way in a smooth glide up her shins and down her calves.

  Her body relaxed under his touch. Soon drowsiness replaced arousal. A yawn escaped.

  He must have seen. “None of that.” He tapped her thighs. At his next words, “Spread your legs,” Emma perked right back up, ready for more.

  Except why did he have to be sitting down there close enough to see...everything? At her hesitation, he tapped her thigh again. “Open up.”

  When she didn’t he set his warm, slick hands on her knees, rubbing up the front of her thighs, his long thumbs dipping between them, applying an outward pressure, coming to a stop just before he touched her panties. He worked his way back down, along her outer thighs to her knees, before starting the same journey again. Each time dipping a little deeper, applying a bit more pressure, inching toward her sex, but never touching her where she most wanted to be touched.

  On his next pass upward she relaxed her legs, allowing him to ease them apart, just a little. He rewarded her by skimming the tips of his thumbs beneath the elastic leg openings of her panties. So close. She opened wider. With a hand on each, he spread her knees as far as they’d go then massaged his way up her inner thighs with his full palms on her skin, staring at the azure blue lace that covered her sex.

  Anticipation started to build.

  Would he...?

  Yes. His thumbs massaged their way beneath the panties, along the seam of her sex, spreading her lips, grazing close to her clit—not close enough, damn it—before retreating.

  Wait! She swiveled her hips. “Touch me.”

  “Be patient.”

  She was starting to hate that word.

  He kept to the same route, up her inner thighs, beneath her panties, teasing, around her hips and back down the outside of her thighs, over and over, until Emma couldn’t hold back her frustration. “Touch me, dammit. Or get me out of these cuffs so I can touch myself.”

  Without a word of warning he slid a finger inside her, just the tip. She arched her hips, wanting more, needing more.

  “Be still or I’ll stop.”

  Bastard. But Emma lay still as roadkill.

  He slid his finger in again. Deeper. Worked it in and out. “You’re so wet.”

  So turned on and addled by lust it was probably a good thing he had her anchored to the bed or she just might be crazy enough to try to wrestle him for control. For sure things would go a helluva lot faster with her in charge.

  A second long thick finger joined the first. In. Out. Again and again. Wonderful.

  Emma lifted her hips.

  He stopped. “Damn it, Brody.”

  The next thing Emma knew he moved, her legs were back together and her panties were coming down. “Wait.”

  Brody stopped again. “Which is it?” he asked. “Touch you or wait?”

  To hell with feeling self-conscious, Emma needed his touch, needed to come. “Touch me.”

  He had her undies off and was back between her thighs in seconds. “Bend your legs.”

  When she did he slid his hands beneath her thighs, pushed her knees up to her chest—a position she’d never even thought herself capable of achieving—rolling her butt off the bed, exposing her most private area to his full view.

  Thankfully she’d only gotten a glimpse of herself in the ceiling mirror before he buried his head between her thighs and Emma couldn’t muster enough brain function to worry about what she looked like or smelled like or tasted like.

  Brody went wild, licking, sucking, spearing his talented tongue. Oh. My. God. Emma wanted to move but couldn’t, her lower body pinned down by his palms, her arms restrained by the cuffs, his to do with as he pleased.

  And right now there was no other place she’d rather be.

  She’d wanted him to touch her and now he did. Relentless. Determined. Skilled.

  The pleasure that’d been building during his thigh massage surged through her system, raged between her legs, her orgasm on the verge of bursting out of her. “Stop.” She didn’t wan
t to come like this, wanted him inside her.

  “Please don’t make me stop,” he panted, kissing her ankle. “Not yet. You’re so close. I can taste it.”

  “I want to come with you inside me,” she said. “Please. Hurry.”

  Thank God he listened, lowering her legs, lunging for a condom, tearing it open and rolling it on his very aroused length.

  “You liked doing that,” she noted, referring to the oral sex.

  “Yeah.” He smiled, climbing on top of her, balancing on his left hand beside her rib cage. “A lot.” With his other hand he positioned himself at her entrance. “I like doing this, too. You ready?”

  “So ready.”

  He pushed inside and froze, closed his eyes, inhaled then exhaled deeply, his expression one of unadulterated bliss. “God, Emma. I knew you’d feel this good. I knew it.” He pushed in farther, pulled out then shoved himself in deeper. “I can’t go slow, not this time.”

  The urgency in his voice thrilled her. That she, Emma Masters, could arouse Brody “The Bull” Bullock to the point of losing control. And she didn’t even need to handcuff him to the bed to do it. “Don’t go slow. I don’t want slow.”

  He lowered his body on top of hers, watching. “Okay?”

  “Better than okay.” She smiled, loving this intimacy between them, loving his concern for her as much as his full weight on top of her.

  His hips started to thrust with purpose, each internal stroke hard and deep. Perfect. Except she wanted to hold him, to feel the play of his muscles as he moved, to feel his heat. “Remove the cuffs.”

  He reached up.

  “The key. You need the key.”

  Only apparently he didn’t. Because he flicked something on the side of her left cuff and it popped open.

  “How?”

  He did the same to the right cuff, freeing her, simple as the push of a button or flick of some lever she didn’t know existed, without any disruption to the powerful thrusting of his hips. “They’re self-releasing.” His words came out mixed in with panting breaths.

  “You mean I could have?” Emma set her stiff arms down on the bed at her sides. They felt dead.

  Brody shifted, changed the angle of his penetration and oh my goodness. Everything changed...for the best. Later. She’d be outraged by his deception later. Because he’d taken her on a sensual journey she wouldn’t have experienced if she’d removed the cuffs herself. And because right now she’d rather focus on the ecstasy of Brody’s lips on her neck, his fingers fondling her nipple and his erection gliding in, out, and along the sensitive skin of her sex, driving up her arousal, as if he knew exactly what she needed, as if he’d navigated the path toward her orgasm hundreds of times before.

  Emma lifted her tingly arms and flopped them around Brody’s back, hugging him tightly, loving the feel of his body on top of hers, the power of his thrusts, the scent of his exertion and excitement. Setting her feet flat on the bed, Emma bent her knees, thrust her hips and took what she needed, powerful in her own right, matching his strength and pace. Not at all worried she’d toss him off.

  So close.

  He hit a spot inside her that released a surge of something spectacular. Emma froze, hoping he’d do it again. “Right there.” She panted and prayed, her body tense, waiting. He nailed it again. “Oh God.” And again. “Oh God.” And again.

  Emma tried to put off her release, to prolong the anticipation, the thrilling burst of sensation each time he pounded into her.

  Somehow he knew. “Can you come?”

  “Try and stop me.”

  He may have laughed, Emma couldn’t be sure, and frankly didn’t care, too overcome with joy and a fierce, yet exquisite pleasure that rendered her limp, unable to move or think or do anything but float along on a sea of satisfaction.

  In the far recesses of her mind the stiffening of Brody’s body on top of her and the gratifying grunts of his completion registered. Emma allowed herself to lapse into a deep, life-changing contentment, perfectly happy to remain there forever.

  * * *

  Brody woke up disappointed his highly erotic dream had come to an end. Until he realized he had a warm, sleeping, completely naked Emma lying with her back cuddled close to his front, his raging erection wedged between her legs, the tip surrounded by her moist heat—without a condom on—at the exact spot where his dream had left off. Had he found himself in this situation with any other woman, he’d have yanked himself out immediately. Instead he dipped in farther. So fucking fantastic.

  Beyond the sex, which had been pretty damn amazing, Emma had him thinking about a life different than the one he currently lived—one with fancy dinners at nice restaurants, spending the day in New York City, taking in a Broadway show or visiting a museum. She had him thinking about waiting for her to come home after a long shift at the hospital, rubbing her tired feet then discussing their days over a quiet dinner.

  Emma had him remembering how he’d imagined his future before he’d entered professional wrestling, before he’d gotten drawn into life in the fast lane, before The Bull’s popularity had made it virtually impossible to find a nice girl to settle down with.

  In the throes of the same erotic dream he’d been having or on the verge of waking up herself, he couldn’t be sure, Emma rocked her hips back, taking him deeper.

  At the pure, unadulterated delight of being embedded fully inside her, without a barrier between them, Brody sucked in a breath, praying for control, begging his moral character to provide him with the strength to withdraw.

  Emma wiggled her backside and contracted her internal muscles, squeezing him most pleasurably. “Good morning to you, too,” she said, her voice deep and sleepy.

  “You don’t want to do that again,” Brody cautioned.

  “Oh yes I do.” So she did.

  God help him, Brody pulled out and slammed back in. “No condom,” he warned.

  Emma stiffened.

  “I can put one on,” he offered, half hoping she’d tell him she was on birth control, to go ahead without one. And if she wasn’t on birth control, willing to take the risk, for the first time ever, if she’d let him.

  “You do that.”

  Thankfully her good sense prevailed. He reached for a condom on the table beside the bed, his bed, he realized, noticing his suit sack on the chair, remembering after a second round of sex and their very early morning shower Emma had wanted to sleep on fresh sheets.

  Seconds later he was on his side, his hips flush with her butt, his arms holding her close as he slid back inside her tight, slick heat, not the same as before, but still damn good. “Now where were we?”

  She contracted her internal muscles again, squeezing him.

  “Ah,” he said, starting a slow, steady rhythm. “Now I remember.”

  After that they didn’t speak, Brody too intent on enjoying the feel of Emma’s soft, abundant skin against him and under his hands, the slow, sensual build of his orgasm. Until he noticed Emma’s restless movements, sensed her frustration.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m not going to get there like this. I need...”

  He knew what she needed, and damn his selfish ass for taking and not giving. Time to make it up to her. He withdrew.

  “No,” she protested.

  “You’ll like this better, I promise.” He moved up on the bed, plumped the pillows between him and the headboard, and sat back. “Climb on.” He patted his hip.

  She gave him a wary look. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

  “Come on.” He reached for her hand and gave a tug. “You won’t.”

  When she went to climb onto his lap facing him, he turned her hips. “Face away from me.”

  “Am I that hideous in the morning?” she teased.

  Not at all, more like mellow a
nd relaxed and so very appealing.

  Emma did as instructed, carefully straddling his lap, her knees on either side of his thighs, her big, beautiful ass front and center.

  “You know I can’t think of any other guy I’d allow to see me like this in full daylight.”

  Good. He smiled as he slid his palms under her butt. “Lift up.”

  She followed his command, giving him enough room to rub the engorged head of his erection along the seam of her hot wet sex.

  “I like it already,” she said on a moan.

  “It gets better.” He found her opening. “Take me inside.”

  She lowered onto him, their position just as good for him as it was going to be for her. “Now lean back against my chest.” She did so carefully. As she did he bent his knees and opened them, spreading her thighs wide, giving him plenty of room to play.

  To give her a sample of things to come he thrust into her from below while his fingers held her lower lips open and fondled her clit at the same time. Her moan and accompanying tremble sent him into motion for real, a man on a mission, on a race to the finish.

  “Watch us,” he told her.

  She opened her eyes. His met hers in the mirror above the bed.

  “What do you see?”

  “You inside me, touching me, holding me open.”

  His tan skin in sharp contrast to her much paler flesh. “Pinch your nipples.”

  She did, biting her lip at the same time, the sight of all they had going on awe-inspiring. “You’re beautiful.” He pumped into her, his hips lifting them both off the bed, twirled her clit, pressed on it and pinched it, and spread the silky wetness of her arousal over the both of them.

  “You make me feel beautiful,” she said, so quietly he almost didn’t hear her over the creak of the bed and the coarseness of their breathing.

  He could love this woman, if she’d let him. With that thought fresh in his mind Brody set a brutal pace, pounding into her, fingering her, not stopping until he’d sent them both flying for the third time.

  God willing, it would not be the last.

  After removing the condom and cleaning up, Brody climbed back into bed behind Emma, cuddling her close, content and happy and wishing their time together didn’t have to end. They lay in comfortable silence for a long time, their bodies pressed together, Emma holding his hand. “Tell me something about you that none of your fans know.”