Stripped Down. Kelli Ireland

tasted like chocolate and woman and sensual promises. She smelled like feminine desire and warmth and peppermint shampoo. She felt like silk and muscle and tightly coiled energy under his work-roughened hands. And he wanted it all. Every last bit of it.

      No more hesitating, no more guilt, no more stupid internal monologues with his conscience. He liked her. He craved her. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted another woman. And he was going to have her.

      But it was more than all those things combined. He’d been able to share the tiniest corner of truth with Cass—that raising Blake had been tough—and she hadn’t played the sympathy card or asked him a thousand questions. She simply accepted that he’d done what he had to do and had listened and understood. For the first time since his parents’ deaths, Eric didn’t feel quite so alone.

      And he knew one night with Cass simply wouldn’t be enough. But it was the perfect place to start.

      * * *

      THE HEAVY ENTRY DOOR to her apartment swung shut with a decisive whump. Every hair on Cass’s body stood up, aware of Dalton’s proximity as he moved behind her. A hot, hard hand closed around the front of her throat. Moving in close, he swept her hair to the side. “Where, Cass?”

      “Where what?” The question was so soft she hardly heard her voice over the shallow breaths that scalded her ear.

      “Where do you want me to take you the first time?”

      The hand at her throat slid down, across her collarbone and over the swell of one breast. He brushed a thumb over her nipple and she arched into his touch. Heat flooded her sex, left her pelvis heavy with wanting.

      “Where, Cass? If you don’t answer me, it will be right here.”

      She drew a breath to answer.

      “Took too long.” He curled one hand around the back of her pants as he reached down with the other and undid her belt. “Lose the shoes, then the jeans.”

      “The coat—”

      “No time.”

      His hands were there and then gone as he stepped away. Foil crinkled and tore. She kicked her pants free and, before she could form a coherent thought, he spun her around, his hips pinning her to the wall.

      “You need to call a halt now if you’re going to. Once we start, I don’t know if I can stop.” He licked a narrow line up the side of her neck and nipped her jaw. “I want you too damn bad, Cass.”

      “Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop.” Her plea was half sob, half groan. Overwhelming desperation made her demand to have him just like this, right here.

      Bending at the knees, he hooked his arms behind her thighs and lifted.

      She gasped, wrapping her arms around his neck.

      A quick shift and he was poised at her entrance. “Guide me in, baby.”

      Reaching between them, she found the head of his cock. Her eyes widened as she maneuvered him into place. “You’re freaking huge.”

      “Discuss my pride later.” He thrust forward and groaned. “So damn tight.”

      Cass stroked his thick length as he worked his way in. His width and girth stretched her to that beautiful convergence of pain and pleasure, filling her impossibly while leaving her squirming to both take more now and make him slow down. She wanted all of him and pulled him deeper in encouragement, an involuntary whimper escaping. Her fingertips finally brushed his testicles when he was seated as far as he could go.

      “Lean back.”

      She clasped her hands around his neck and did as he bade, letting her eyes slip closed.

      Chest heaving, he slid nearly out of her and paused. “Cass.”

      She looked into sea-green eyes and opened her mouth to respond. That’s when he drove back into her. The scream that ripped out of her throat was one of absolute ecstasy. He stretched her just as she’d craved, filled her, made her want it hard and fast and deep. “Again,” she cried.

      Dalton didn’t answer. Instead, he set a brutal pace. Every upstroke raked across her clit. Every withdrawal dragged the top of his erection over the same. The stimulation was fierce and unrelenting. His breath came in hard draws, matching her own. His fingers cupped her ass and curled in, but he never slowed down, furiously pumping into her.

      The orgasm ripped through her without warning. Nothing had ever felt like this, as if she was being shattered and made whole, flying and falling, dying and living. All at once. All together. Completely out of control.

      His wordless shout accompanied a particularly deep thrust, and she felt his cock pulsing inside her as her walls continued to spasm, his thrusts becoming short and sporadic.

      “Dalton!” she shouted as a second, smaller orgasm laid claim to her body. Rocking against him, desperate for friction, he pinned her to the wall with his chest and one arm. He slipped his freed hand between them to rapidly strum her clit.

      “Ride it out, baby,” he whispered against her lips. “Ride it out.”

      She seized his mouth with her own, winding her hands through his hair as she rode both his cock and his hand. A harsh moan shook her as the orgasm crested. The rapid manipulation of her body, the way he continued to drive into her with shallow thrusts, made the second orgasm drag on and on. Finally, unable to take any more, she gripped his wrist and squeezed at the same time she tore her mouth away. “Enough.”

      “Not even close to enough,” he said, panting against the side of her neck. “Not even close.”

      There was no way to stop her legs from buckling when her feet hit the floor.

      Dalton caught her, scooped her up and carried her deeper into the apartment. “Bedroom?”

      Pointing was a major win because it meant she had at least minor muscle control.

      Through the door, he paused. “Nice.”

      The iron headboard of her queen-size bed bumped the wall as he laid her down. He moved to the foot and tugged the bed away from the wall with a wicked look. “No need for the neighbors to know what we’re up to.”

      “Something tells me they’ve already figured it out.”

      “It’ll give them something to talk about...or aspire to.”

      “Yeah, it wasn’t bad for a cold start.”

      He threw back his head and laughed, loud and long. “Not bad, huh? I see the lady has high expectations. Good thing I can deliver.”

      “Are you always so arrogant?”

      “It’s only arrogance if you only think you’re good. I know I am, and so do you.”

      She gave an exaggerated yawn. “Talk, talk, talk.”

      He moved to her feet. “Hands on the headboard.”

      Cass propped herself up on her elbows as butterflies maneuvered wildly in her belly. “Why?”

      “Hands. On. The headboard.”

      The iron was cold and rough against her palms as she wound her fingers around the vertical bars. She wanted to ask what he was up to, but she also simply wanted to do what he directed without demanding explanation, to just once not need diagrams and contingency plans for her life. Tonight wasn’t meant to be planned out but rather spontaneously experienced. Closing her eyes, she sighed. To experience him meant giving up control of the moment. She sucked at that.

      “Stop thinking so hard.” He stroked her ankle then up her calf. “Bend your knees, feet flat on the bed. Good girl.” A gentle push spread her legs.

      Embarrassment scalded her neck and settled across her cheeks. She’d never bared herself to a man before. Not like this. Never so completely. There was a defenselessness to it, a lack of any pretension or place to withdraw to, and