Dirty Distractions (Afternoon Delight 1)

e of the night. Since then he’d been more settled.

Sheesh, if she hadn’t known better, she would’ve believed he had malaria or something other than a simple flu bug. Kim chalked it up to men being gigantic babies. After seeing her big, strong guy totally felled by a cold, she was inclined to agree.

Sara cuddled closer and sighed. Oversized baby or not, he felt so good in her arms. She loved holding him, especially when he was asleep, and she could squeeze him tight without him being any the wiser.

Giving into her urge to explore his flat, ripped torso, she let her fingers wander down to his happy trail. She wouldn’t go any farther. Technically they’d broken up, and she shouldn’t have been in bed with him at all. He probably didn’t even realize she was with him. She sure hadn’t asked if she could grope him while unconscious.

As she pulled away, her hand accidentally brushed his groin. She snatched her arm back, eyes wide. Whoa. Some parts of him woke perkier than others, that was for sure.

“Don’t stop there.”

She blinked at his golden, muscled back. He didn’t so much as twitch. Had he really spoken, or was her tired brain imagining things? She hadn’t been getting a lot of rest while worrying about him—

“There’s a rule in this bed.” While she processed that yes, he was up—and not simply below the waist—and yes, he was speaking, he rolled over and pinned her to the mattress with surprising quickness, considering he’d been moaning and coughing for two days straight. “While in it, you get to touch anything you want.”

She glimpsed the wild blue of his eyes before his mouth landed on hers, tasting of cherry syrup, juice and honey cough drops. An oddly pleasant combination. She started to speak, needing to clarify some things before they jumped into sex again, but he’d already shoved up her flimsy nightgown and growled as he fought down her panties. “Stop wearing these. Slow me down,” he said, ripping them from her body as if they hadn’t cost fifty dollars.

Though really, who cared? She didn’t. Not when a hotter than hell guy was sliding down to fasten his mouth between her legs, something he did with wonderful regularity without her even asking.

Well, except that first time. And okay, the second. Which didn’t even really count, since she’d been high on Nyquil for the first and still sickly for the second. Judging from what Brad was currently doing to her, that stuff was truly a miracle drug.

“You’re sick,” she gasped, rolling her hips into his thorough explorations. He left no millimeter of flesh unexamined. Even so, she still had most of her faculties until he started to tongue-fuck her, and then she didn’t care about anything but getting off.

She’d make it up to him later. Whatever he wanted. A half-dozen blowjobs, a new truck. A half-dozen blowjobs in his new truck. Or on the flatbed, beneath the stars. Maybe even on the hood. Hell, he could take her any-damn-where he felt like.

“You know what I want.” He did that growling thing against her pussy and the rumble reverberated through her lower belly, the vibrations adding one more layer to her excitement. She was trembling and panting and moaning so much that the neighbors would probably hear. He pushed two fingers into her, widening her as her pleasure spiraled higher. Then he thrust deep, brushing her G-spot with each pass while he tongued her clit. “In my mouth. Now. Give it to me.”

Some part of her thought she should resist his demands, lest they set up an impossible precedent. Woe if she got into a pattern where he expected her to come on command, and maybe even slacked off in his efforts to get her there. Better to edge back and play a little hard to get—

He flattened his hand on her torso, holding her still. His tongue took up the battle his fingers had abandoned in favor of keeping her in place while the fingers of his other hand circled the pucker between her ass cheeks. She moaned at the dual sensations, surprised yet again by the wicked thrill of having him penetrate her back there too.

And then the war was over before she’d even launched a suitable defense.

She rocketed upward, her heels bearing down as she ground against his face. He lapped at her, his enjoyment clear from the sounds he made. They were both noisy as hell in bed, and she took a moment to thank God that Kim wasn’t home before she dropped back to the mattress and basked in the afterglow. Nah, not strong enough. Afterblow maybe, because he’d blown her freaking mind.

Again.

“I. Love. Your. Mouth.” Each word was separated by a half breath. Her lungs hadn’t quite started functioning normally yet, and him crawling up the bed to plant his hands on either side of her head didn’t help. Especially when she could look down and see the thick, swollen gift awaiting her between his legs.

He kissed her, his tongue leisurely playing with hers. He knew she liked tasting herself, even without her ever telling him. Sexually they were in perfect sync. Everything else? Working on it.

“Mmm, and I love your pussy. It’s always so quick to welcome me back.”

He caught her giggle against his lips as he grasped her breasts in his palms, caressing them through the nubby cotton nightgown she wore. She arched at the rough pull of his fingers, relaxing into his touch. There was nothing wrong with the world when Brad O’Halloran’s hands were on her body.

Without warning, he tugged her up and splayed her on top of him. “I’m weak and sickly. Isn’t that the line you used?” He bit her earlobe at her laughter. “Think you need to handle things from here on out.”

“Oh, do you now?” She sent her nightgown flying and braced her hands on his rock-hard stomach, using him for leverage to slide up and down. She didn’t take him inside her yet, just teased him with the proof of her excitement. His groan told her what she already knew—she was getting him plenty wet, and he had only himself to thank. “Well, I suppose I can do this for a while.” She bit her lower lip, gyrating on him while heat flared in his eyes. “How’s this?”

Body issues in his presence? Gone. How could she wonder how he viewed her when his gaze practically devoured her, clothed or naked? There was no mistaking the frank appreciation in his expression and in his touch. He wanted her, every bit as much as she wanted him.

Though his gaze burned, he crossed his arms behind his head, clearly intending to make her work for it. And work she would. “Faster,” he gritted out. Just his voice caused her empty pussy to contract. Perhaps this dry—so not dry—humping idea hadn’t been her best. “Make those pretty tits bounce for me.”

Oh God, there he went with the dirty talk. It was like pure ambrosia to her starved senses after years of furtive clinches that consisted of descriptive soundtracks like “ooh, yeah, babe, nice.” With him she could be as naughty as she wanted to be—and she would.

She picked up her pace as requested, one hand traveling between her breasts to plump her nipples the way he liked. The way she liked. She reached back to stroke his cock, its heavy weight against his thigh an irresistible temptation. His eager length pulsed in her grip. Wetness smeared her palm as she pumped him, getting him brutally hard within a few short strokes. Then she went for his balls, toying with them even as she twirled her fingers around her own sensitive nipples.

His chest rose and fell in quick succession, and his lids lowered to half-mast, his beautiful irises partially hidden by his heavy fringe of dark lashes. He was having trouble keeping his eyes open, and his hips stirred beneath her as if he couldn’t stay still.