His Fantasy Girl Read online

  “Me what?” The belligerence was still there.

  “Well, let’s just say I would never have guessed it. And I’m willing to overlook that little character flaw. Are you hungry?”

  She shook her head. Good. Neither was he. “Come through.”

  He led her from the kitchen into the large sitting area. Through the French windows, he could see Grunt as he raced around the garden sniffing everything. Logan pressed a button on the wall, and curtains slid across to cover the glass. He didn’t want Grunt trying to get in on the action. Abby halted in the doorway, looking warily into the room as though it were some sort of den of inequity.

  She really wasn’t his type; he liked his women a little on the uncontrolled side. Abby Parker was neat, her clothes conservative, not a hair out of place. Though that wasn’t how he remembered her that night. And he’d spent enough time going over it in his mind. She’d been wild, which made this Abby an enigma, and a challenge. He liked challenges.

  Could he make her lose control?

  “Come in,” he said. “I’ll get us both a drink. Scotch okay?” She’d drunk tequila that night, though she didn’t look much like the tequila type anymore. He spent a lot of time at the club guessing what people drank. He usually got it right. Miss Priss over there probably drank lemonade.

  He didn’t wait for her to answer, just poured them both a scotch and waved her to the sofa. She took the chair instead, back straight, knees together. She accepted the glass but put it down on the table beside her without taking a sip.

  She cleared her throat.

  He was wavering between scenarios with her on top, with her breasts in his face, or a blow job, though on top might be easier to negotiate. Or on her back on the dining table, or bent over the sofa… Maybe he’d save that for later.

  She was obviously considering what to say, how to start, but he really didn’t think he’d have too much trouble persuading her to his alternate plan. Yesterday she had melted for him. Within minutes she’d been hot and wet. His dick twitched, and his balls ached. Time to move this along. Before she got around to saying whatever it was she was working herself up to, because while he couldn’t begin to guess what she wanted, his intuition told him it wasn’t going to be anything good.

  She licked her lips, and his dick jerked again. His pants were uncomfortably tight but hopefully he’d be out of them soon. He almost didn’t want to start. He’d been fantasizing about this for so long. What if it was a disappointment? What if he couldn’t make her come? In his fantasies, she’d come for him hard and frequently, usually screaming his name.

  Fuck. What if she did say no? He swallowed his scotch in one go and put the glass down next to hers. Then he strolled around the back of her chair, stepped up close.

  She was staring fixedly ahead. “So,” she began. “I—”

  “Shush,” he murmured.

  “No really, I’ve got to—”

  “We’ll talk later. I promise.” Much later. Maybe even weeks later. Or months. He had three hundred and sixty five days’ worth of fantasies to work through, and he was sure there were some he’d like to do more than once.

  Reaching across, he pulled the pins from her hair. She didn’t move. After yesterday, likely she knew what to expect when he got her alone. If she hadn’t wanted this, she wouldn’t have come. Her hair was dark, glossy brown with glints of ruby, and he ran his hands through the silky soft strands. Loose, it reached past her shoulders. As he massaged her scalp, she groaned and leaned into the movement.

  He trailed his fingers down the side of her neck, felt her shiver, then slipped them inside the open neck of her prim shirt, played along the sharp jut of her collarbone, and lower to cup one full breast in his palm. She went even more still, holding her breath, but when she didn’t protest, he squeezed gently.

  Part of him couldn’t believe she was here, and he was here, doing this, when he’d dreamed about it for so long.

  But one thing was sure. He needed to get inside her, and soon, or he was going to spontaneously combust. And it would be messy. He withdrew his fingers from her shirt and strode around to face her, holding out his hand. She peered at it for a second, like he was some sort of devil trying to lead her astray. Then, as though she couldn’t help herself, she reached out slowly and slipped her fingers into his.

  The tension oozed from him, and he realized he hadn’t been totally sure of her. And if she’d said no there was nothing he could do. He didn’t know how to seduce a woman. Normally they seduced him, and he’d grown lazy.

  Studying her through half-closed eyes, he allowed the hunger to build inside him. Her cheeks were flushed and her lips slightly parted. He stroked a finger across her plump lower lip, and her tongue flicked out. At the feel of her tentative touch, fires roared in his belly, sizzling along his nerves and sinking to his groin. He was in serious danger of losing it. That had never happened in his fantasies, but his cock was throbbing with the need to be inside her.

  “Do you remember that night?” he asked.

  She shook her head.

  “Liar.” Slipping a finger into the neckline of her shirt, he flicked open the first button, and the next, and the next. Her eyes widened, but she said nothing as he tugged the material off her shoulders and tossed it to the floor, leaving her in a white cotton bra. He was going to buy her some new underwear; he had a hankering to see her pale skin against black lace. Her breasts were fuller than he remembered—he could live with that. He stroked the pad of his thumb over her nipple and she moaned. With one hand he circled behind her, undid the catch on her bra, and peeled the soft cotton from her skin, taking a step back so he could look his fill. Her breasts were full, but firm, topped with dark red nipples, already swollen. He lowered his head kissed one, then sucked the other into his mouth, caressing the taut nub with his tongue as she almost fell against him.

  She appeared dazed, as though her responses came as a surprise, and it occurred to him that maybe it had been a while for her. No worry. She’d be so turned on by the time he got to that point that he’d slide inside like he belonged there.

  Right now, he needed her totally naked. He kissed her nipple one last time, straightened, unfastened her skirt, and pushed it down over her hips, hooking his fingers in her panties and tights on the way. And there she was. Naked and all for him. In the flesh. Real. To do with as he pleased.

  “Holy shit.”

  He swallowed as the last of his blood supply drained into his cock. But for a minute he couldn’t move, all he could do was stare. She was different, but the same. She’d been slightly more slender, now her breasts and hips were fuller, though her waist was possibly smaller, so she curved beautifully. Her skin was pale, the curls at the base of her belly glossy brown like her hair.

  He raised a finger and motioned for her to twirl. Her eyes narrowed slightly, but she slowly turned. His breath caught in his throat, and his mouth went dry. Her ass was smooth and rounded. He stroked a fingertip down the length of her spine until it hovered over the cleft between her buttocks. Leaning closer, he whispered in her ear. “Open your legs, sweetheart.”

  She shuffled her feet so he could stroke along the line of her ass cheeks, sliding between her thighs to push one finger between the plump, hot folds of her sex. She was soaking wet, and he sank to his knees and burrowed his nose between her legs, breathing in the scent of hot, aroused woman. His fantasy girl wanted him. That was the biggest turn on of all, and he knew then which particular fantasy he was going to go for first. With a last kiss on her left buttock, he got to his feet and took her hand, tugging her gently.

  She resisted a little. “What…?”

  “Let me do this, okay. Go with me. I had a lot of time to think about how to please you. You’ll like it. I promise.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth, but gave a quick nod.

  “So, fantasy number two. We’re back in the governor’s office. He had this big leather chair…” With a finger between her breasts, he pushed her gently into the big le
ather chair she’d been sitting in earlier. She pulled her knees up to her chest, looping her arms around her legs, and stared up at him, her eyes huge.

  “Sorry, sweetheart, but that’s not going to work.”

  He peeled her hands free, and without giving her a chance to protest, he wrapped his fingers around her ankles, straightened her legs, and pulled them apart. “Fuck, but that’s pretty.” Her thighs were slender but lightly muscled, and her sex glistened. His dick throbbed to remind him he needed to move this on, or embarrass himself. He rested one of her ankles over the arm of the chair, then the next, so she was wide open to him.

  Resting his hands on the soft skin of her knees, he leaned in close. “So, Sergeant Parker,” he murmured. “I bet you’re used to being in charge. You want to tell me what to do.”

  She blinked up at him.

  He smiled. “Don’t want to talk anymore?”

  She shook her head, and he sank to his knees in front of her. She was the sexiest thing he had ever seen, in dreams or reality, sprawled in front of him, open to his gaze. He swiped his tongue over his lower lip, and her breath hitched in her throat. He wanted to take his time, but there was something he needed to do. He flicked open the fastener of his trousers, and groaned as he lowered the zipper and his cock sprang free, rock hard and ready. But he’d waited this long, he could wait a while longer. This was going to be perfect. For both of them.

  He slipped his palms under her ass, used his thumbs to part her sex and stared for long seconds. She was his dream and she was real.

  “Logan, please.”

  His gaze shifted to her face. “Tell me what you want.”

  “Touch me.”

  “I am touching you.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  “Ask me.”

  “Kiss me.”

  He smiled. “Where?” He dropped a kiss on the soft skin of her inner thigh, and she groaned. “There?”

  She shook her head.

  He could see her clit pouting from her sex, already swollen, dark red. Breathing in deeply, he filled his nostrils with the intoxicating scent then dropped a slow kiss on the tiny nub. Her muscles locked up tight. He wanted to take his time, but he had a hunch she would last all of about ten seconds. She was desperate, and that intrigued him. He left the sensitive spot and licked along the length of her sex, pushing his tongue inside, tasting the spicy sweetness of her, licking at the moisture, circling her clit but never quite touching until her hips were lifting, pushing against his mouth. He held her steady, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her ass, lapping at her, fighting down the need rising in him.

  And he was burning up with need.

  Finally, he moved back to her clit, flicked it with the tip of his tongue, drew it gently into his mouth, and suckled. Her hands clutched his hair, her hips circled, and he sucked harder, felt the moment she came apart for him. He drew back, studied her pretty sex, her pussy pulsating. As the tremors eased, he massaged her clit with the pad of his thumb and she came again, her head falling back, her pulse frantic under the pale skin of her throat.

  The wait was over.

  He drew a condom out of his back pocket, tore it with his teeth, and rolled it down over his erection. Then he dragged her to the edge of the chair and pushed slowly inside her. She was tight but so wet that he slid in with ease, groaning as her slick muscles squeezed around him. Lodged deep inside her, he took a moment to savor the feeling. Like coming home.

  On to fantasy number three.

  He gripped her ass and pushed to his feet, still deep inside. Turning, he sank onto the chair, shifted her slightly so she was kneeling, legs on either side of his hips. He settled her as his cock pulsed, shifting his hands to her hips. Slowly, he lifted her then released her so she sank back onto him. Heaven. He raised her again, and she rested a hand on his shoulder, found a rhythm, rising and falling. He could feel her along the whole length of his cock, the pleasure tugging at his balls. As she took over, he rested his head back, watching the sway of her breasts. He slid one hand up the indentation of her waist, over her rib cage, to cup her breast, lifting it for the caress of his tongue.

  So close.

  As she sank down, she rotated her hips, massaging her clit against his pelvic bone with each stroke until she was squirming on top of him. She was going to come again; he could feel her tension building. He gripped her hips, pressing her down, rubbing her harder against him, and her head fell back as she screamed her release. The sensation of her pulsating around him was enough to tip him over the edge, and he pumped into her, the release going on and on as she rode him.

  Finally, he slumped back into the chair and pulled her close.

  He kissed her hair and closed his eyes. “You were supposed to scream my name, but otherwise that was perfect.”

  She’d forgotten everything, including his name.

  Who he was, why she was here…

  He was still fully dressed while she was totally, totally—it didn’t get more bare-assed than this—naked. She was wrapped tight in his arms, and while she hated to admit it—because this was in no way part of the plan—it felt right. More right than anything she could remember, and for some reason that made her want to cry. And she never cried. As a child, she’d learned early on to keep everything locked in tight. Now here she was draped all over a badass bad boy, and she had the most almighty urge to bawl her eyes out. Maybe she should go ahead. It might frighten him off and that was a good thing, because however right this felt, it was wrong. She didn’t fall into bed with strangers.

  Except this one.

  Twice now.

  And both times it was out of this world, orgasmic.

  At least he’d used a condom tonight. Obviously he’d gotten more responsible with age. Or maybe fed up with paying for unplanned offspring.

  He was still deep inside her. She wriggled and a wave of residual pleasure rippled through her. The zipper of his pants was chaffing against her inner thigh and she shifted a little. Time to make a move. Go back to real life and work out how to put things back on track. Again.

  Was he asleep? She made to pull away, and his hands tightened on her hips, holding her in place.

  “Don’t move,” he murmured without opening his eyes. “Not yet.”

  “Why? Won’t the governor be back soon?”

  He chuckled, but didn’t release her, and she straightened her spine so she could look at him. His hair had come loose; she had a vague memory of digging her fingers into it while his mouth had been between her legs. Oh God, his mouth had felt so good. She’d never relaxed enough with any other man to allow him to do that, had always felt too self-conscious to enjoy the act. But she hadn’t felt self-conscious with Logan; he’d driven everything but the feel of his lips and tongue from her mind. When he’d sucked her into his mouth, she’d exploded.

  “Stop wriggling,” he muttered.

  She stopped. She didn’t want to disturb him, she wanted to look at him some more. She might never get another chance. If she got the plan back on track, this wouldn’t happen again. He was truly stunning—heavy-lidded eyes, with thick black lashes that lay across his high cheekbones, a straight nose, a long jaw, shadowed with stubble, and the most beautiful mouth she had ever seen, the upper lip curved, the lower full.

  “You can kiss me if you want, sergeant.”

  “No, thank you.”

  “I can feel you staring.”

  His eyes flicked open, and he held her gaze as his hand slid up to curve under the hair at the back of her head. Slowly, he drew her down, his lips parting beneath hers, his tongue pushing inside. He kissed her for long minutes, deep wet kisses that she felt all the way down to her toes. He finally drew back, leaving her shaken to the core. How could a stranger make her feel so good? So right?

  She needed to get out of there, but before she could do anything he wrapped his arms around her and got to his feet, cradling her against his chest. She was by no means small, but he carried her with ease, kicking the
door open and heading up the wide staircase, into a bedroom and through to the huge bathroom beyond.

  As he set her down on her feet, she opened her mouth to tell him she was leaving, but before she could get the words out he started unbuttoning his shirt. It occurred to her that he’d seen her naked. Wasn’t turnabout fair? And she could revisit the whole now-or-never argument, because obviously she was never doing this again. So if she was going to see him naked—and she really wanted to—this was her only chance.

  He shrugged out of the shirt, and she stared at his broad chest with the smooth swell of muscle. His skin was olive and perfect. The black ink of his tattoos snaked around from his back, curling over the lean ridges of muscle on his stomach. But it wasn’t the tattoos that held her attention but rather the glint of silver at his nipple.

  He glanced down and grinned. “I had a dare with my brother Declan. He’s such an uptight bastard. He said he would if I would. So we did, and, shit, it hurt like hell.”

  Then his hands moved to his waist. He kicked off his boots and pushed the leather pants down over his lean hips, turned away to toss the condom into the bin before coming back to her.

  He was already semi-hard, and as she stared, his shaft twitched and filled with blood, jerked to attention until it stood upright against his flat belly. Her mouth suddenly dry, she swallowed and licked her lips.

  “I like the way you look at my cock,” he said. “Like you’re hungry for it and you’ll let me do whatever I like with it.” His gaze slid over her. “You okay? I’m guessing it’s been a long time for you.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Why would you guess that?”

  “Male intuition. Are you sore?”

  She shook her head. It was a slight lie; there was an ache between her thighs, but there was also a tingling.

  “Good.”

  He reached past her and turned on the water in the huge walk-in shower, then took her hand and sort of hustled her inside.

  “Another fantasy?” she asked.