Coming Up for Air. Karen Foley

again the way she just had, he’d be a goner. He didn’t protest when she began unfastening the buttons on his shirt and then tugged the fabric free from his waistband until he was exposed to her greedy gaze.

      “Holy shit,” she muttered, and stroked a fingertip down the shallow groove that bisected his torso until she encountered the tip of his erection where it protruded above the waistband of his boxers. “It’s like you’ve been … airbrushed. Only, better.”

      Chance gave a huff of laughter, grateful for the long hours he’d spent in physical training. He kept his body in prime condition, not just because the army required it, but because he and his brother had an ongoing rivalry over which of them was in better shape. With his rigorous special ops training, Chase usually kicked his ass in that department, but Chance suddenly didn’t care. If Jenna Larson liked what she saw, that was more than good enough for him.

      She still straddled his hips, and when she swirled the tip of her finger over the head of his penis, Chance groaned and strained upward.

      “Okay, that’s enough,” he growled softly. “My turn.”

      Without giving her time to protest, he slid her to one side of the blanket and sat up, bending forward to yank his boots off and toss them aside. Her eyes never left him as he peeled his shirt away and spread it out on the blanket behind him, before he stood and swiftly shed his jeans. Finally, when all he wore were his boxers, he dropped back onto the blanket and turned to Jenna.

      “That’s better,” he murmured, and scooted closer until mere inches separated them. Bracing himself on his forearm, he undid the first button of her blouse, and then the second. In the dim light, he could just make out the lacy edge of her bra. His fingers paused over the third button, and he slanted her a questioning look.

      “Don’t stop now,” she murmured, and a hint of a smile curved her lips. Beneath his hand, Chance could feel the frantic, unsteady beat of her heart.

      He slid a hand beneath the fall of her hair and dipped his head to cover her lips once more. She sighed into his mouth and her hand forged a molten trail along his rib cage and over his hip to boldly cup his butt and urge him closer.

      Chance resisted the urge to grind against her, and instead focused on slowly unbuttoning her blouse as he explored her mouth with his tongue. When the fabric fell open beneath his fingers, he raised his head to admire the exposed swell of soft flesh beneath the lacy bra and the long, slender length of her waist.

      “Gorgeous,” he muttered, and stroked the back of his fingers across the satiny skin, watching in fascination as her stomach muscles contracted beneath his touch. When he reached the waistband of her jeans, he didn’t wait for her permission, but flicked the button open and drew the zipper down in one easy movement. In the splayed vee of denim, he could just make out the top edge of her panties, and was helpless to prevent himself from laying his palm against her smooth abdomen. He wanted to plant his mouth there. Christ, he wanted to kiss her everywhere. He wanted to lick her skin, breathe in her scent and feel her softness against his palms. He dragged in a deep breath and forced himself to slow down.

      Jenna made a small sound of frustration, and then her hands were there, pushing her jeans over her hips, even as she kicked her sandals free from her feet. Chance watched, mesmerized, as her long legs were exposed, and then she was gloriously bare except for the scrap of lace at her crotch, gleaming white in the darkness.

      She rolled toward him, hitching one slim thigh over his leg, and running her hand along his bare skin. With a muffled groan, he gathered her fully against him, his hands smoothing over her back to survey the dips and curves of her shoulder blades and spine. He buried his face in her neck and inhaled her fragrance. She was slim and supple, and when he drew a hand along the back of her thigh and angled her leg higher over his hip, she made an inarticulate sound of pleasure in her throat and pressed her center against his aching cock. She planted hot, moist kisses against his neck and jaw, and her hands were everywhere, exploring his body with an urgency that told him just how aroused she was. Sliding a hand between their bodies, he cupped her through the scrap of silk.

      Heat. Moisture. Incredible softness.

      Easing the fabric to one side, he stroked a finger along her slick cleft. She gave a strangled cry of pleasure and her hips bucked sharply.

      Lust slammed into him with the force of a freight train.

      Jenna moaned softly and pushed herself against his fingers, drenching them with the evidence of her arousal. Chance’s cock grew even stiffer, and with a rough sound of need, he rolled her onto her back and settled himself between her splayed thighs, rocking hard against her core. Jenna groaned loudly and grabbed the back of his head, slanting her mouth over his in a deep, openmouthed kiss that sent bolts of white-hot flame straight to his balls. He had a hard time focusing on anything except how bad he wanted to be inside her. He needed to slow down.

      Breaking the kiss, he pushed her bra down beneath her breasts, and then covered one plump mound with his hand and rubbed his thumb across the distended tip.

      “Oh, God. That feels so good,” she gasped, and arched upward, rubbing herself along the length of his erection. “Help me take these off.”

      Chance turned his face to watch as she pushed her panties down and used her feet to kick them free. In the dim light, he could just make out the dark triangle of curls at the apex of her thighs, and then she was pulling him back on top of her, settling him into the cradle of her hips so that his heavy erection rested against her mons.

      “Where were we?” she asked in a sultry whisper.

      “Right here,” he muttered.

      Dipping his head, Chance wrapped his lips around one nipple, drawing it into his mouth as he suckled it. Jenna speared her fingers through his hair and held his head to her breast, her breathing coming in uneven pants. He laved her breast with his tongue while he continued to cup and stroke her other breast with his free hand. He was acutely conscious of her nudity as she squirmed desperately beneath him, bracing one heel on the back of his thigh and rubbing herself against his rigid arousal. But when she reached between their bodies and gripped him in her hand, he nearly came apart.

      “Jesus!” He dragged his mouth from her breast and looked down to see her stroking the smooth head of his penis against her slippery clitoris. He was breathing hard, just barely keeping himself in check, but when he looked back at Jenna’s face, he saw she’d already lost it. Her eyes were half-closed, her expression one of pleasure-pain as she rotated her hips against his swollen flesh. As Chance watched, enthralled, she shuddered lightly and cried out, bucking against him as her orgasm washed over her. But when she would have pushed him inside herself, a small vestige of sanity made him grasp her wrist, and he drew marginally away from her.

      Her eyes opened and she looked up at him, dazed. “What’s wrong?” Her words were thick. “Don’t you want to?”

      Her fingers were still wrapped around his shaft, squeezing him at the base, and it took all his restraint not to spill himself in her hand. She looked like every erotic fantasy he’d ever had, sprawled beneath him with her breasts pushed up, her expression one of pure sexual desire as she held his throbbing dick in her hand.

      “I’m not wearing a condom,” he said through gritted teeth.

      “Oh, shit.” She abruptly released him.

      Chance sucked in a lungful of air as he struggled for control, using the opportunity to shuck his boxers completely. Propping herself on one elbow, Jenna grabbed her discarded jeans and began fishing through the pockets until, with a frustrated growl, she gave the pants a vigorous shake. Chance heard the tinkle of something metallic hit the blanket, and then two small foil squares plopped onto her stomach.

      He looked at her in disbelief. “You carry condoms in your pocket?”

      Even in the darkness, he saw the color that washed into her face. “Not me—my friend,” she explained. “She gave them to me earlier.”

      “Give her a kiss for me when you see her,” he said, and tore one of the wrappers open with his teeth.