New York Nights: Shaken and Stirred. Kathleen O'Reilly

      She heard his sigh, a man finding victory.

      The next few moments were a blur of skin, pleasure and erotic dreams. Her back braced against the table, and then he was there, filling her up with something much more dangerous—himself.

      At first there was pain—four years was a long time—and he was big, hard and throbbing with life. Tessa didn’t want to find pleasure, she wanted to keep Gabe locked in a different place, but there wasn’t a choice because right now she could think of nothing but this. The smell of his body, the sharp bunch of his muscles as he moved, the sound of her sophist ideals being exterminated one spine-melting thrust at a time.

      Her eyes stayed firmly shut, her fingers clenched at her side, only her muscles betraying her. Each time he drove into her, her thighs clenched tighter and tighter, automatically pulling him home.

      His breathing matched hers, fast, strained, two people rapidly losing their precarious hold on sanity. For Tessa, sanity was overrated. Better to reimagine his face into a shadow. Better to cast his mouth—that talented mouth—into one that was sensual, hard and unforgiving. Her image of her dream lover settled deep in her mind, and her body shook as that fantasy man took her over and over.

      Never before had it been like this, so physical, so animal, so…fascinating. He thrust hard and deep, and she whimpered.

      Immediately he stopped.

      “Tess?” She heard the ache in his voice, the pain, the guilt. He pulled out of her fast, but her body wasn’t done. She needed this, she needed release, she needed to come.

      “Please,” she whispered.

      “I’m sorry.”

      “Please,” she tried again, her mouth dry, but she desperately needed to find that place again. It’d been so long….

      “You get dressed. I’ll leave you alone.” He sounded so lonely, so sad, and her heart lurched. At first in pain and then in something more savage. She wasn’t going to let him leave. Not until she finished. Tonight this was all about her. After four years, she had earned this one night.

      “No. Must finish,” she managed, low and pleading.

      “Tessa?”

      “Finish,” she said, and this time there was a snap in her voice. A command. This was about her. About taking control. One step at a time.

      Tessa waited, half expecting him to leave her decimated and desperate. Then she felt his body move, heard his breath catch, and she knew that he would cure this lonely ache inside her.

      “I’ll make this right,” he said, picking her up in strong arms, which helped fuel the fantasy-man image. Gabe wasn’t a carrier, he was a goofball without a serious bone in his body. The wide chest underneath her head? That belonged to someone else.

      With those thoughts, she kept her eyes screwed shut, determined to keep his face from her mind. She heard the rustle of clothes, felt his hands gentle as he undressed her, and then his mouth was on hers—soft and seductive. She sighed a little, settling into the kiss, and strong hands stroked her, exploring and discovering her pleasures.

      Denny had never been so attentive, so careful, and Tessa’s mind began to soar. She was floating, high as a cloud, where the world existed only for her delight. He was hers, existing only to please her. His mouth tarried at her breast, and her back arched up, wanting to keep him close, but the merciless mouth moved lower, pressing soft, pliant kisses against her skin, her belly. Lower he moved, settling between her legs, and her heart raced because the pulse at her core was aching now, dripping with need. His lips swept the inside of her thighs, the stubble at his jaw rasping against her flesh. Wickedly he teased her, his tongue moving close, so close, so close, and she squirmed to lead his mouth where she craved.

      His hands locked on her hips, and she fought to free herself, to feel him against her lips, but he continued—slow, steady, heartless. She moaned, her hands fisted against the mattress, until…

      Until…

      Heaven.

      Slowly his tongue moved inside her, playing her at his leisure. She cried out, and his mouth turned. He captured her inner lips, sucking and pulling, hard and insistent, until she was begging, pleading because this pressure was killing her.

      Frantically Tessa clawed at his shoulders, finally daring to touch him because she wanted much more than teasing. She wanted him to fill this emptiness inside her.

      The dark stranger laughed, not cruelly but so knowing, and then he slid into her. Tessa sighed because this was what she needed, what her body craved. He thrust slow and deep, reaching farther and farther, as if they had all night, as if they had forever.

      Still her eyes were closed, and he didn’t seem to mind. Without her sight, her other senses took over, the sounds of the late-night city noise, the barges on the river, the far-off wail of a siren and the sound of breathing. Air pulling in and out. Life.

      Her mouth ached to taste him, to taste the salt that she could smell on his skin. But that would be touching. That wouldn’t be wise in Tessa’s world. If she touched him again, she would know this man who was filling her, this man who was teaching her what pleasure could mean. And she couldn’t have that because she desperately needed someone she could trust.

      So she listened…and floated…and felt. Mercy, she felt. There were a thousand nerve strings inside her, stretching, pulling, threatening to break, and with each thrust the strings pulled tighter.

      Tessa wanted more. “Faster,” she said in a whisper. But he heard. She heard him rise over her, bringing her hips higher, and he began to move faster, pushing inside her, the strings pulling tighter and tighter.

      Her body arched, taut, and she twisted with each powerful stroke because she could feel it coming closer. She could see it, the streaking lights that shone behind her lids. Harder and harder he went, this dark man she didn’t want to know, touching her, taking her deeper and deeper into his world.

      Higher she went….

      Higher…

      Higher…

      And there.

      Tessa came on a sigh, felt his body jerk. And then he held her close, cradling her to him. Her eyes stayed shut. Keeping his image far from her mind.

      “TESSA?” GABE STUDIED HER peaceful smile, trying to figure out what part of the movie he had missed.

      “Ssshhhhhh,” she answered in a sleepy voice. “No names. Two strangers.”

      What the hell? Okay, he’d either traumatized her or screwed her into a break with reality, neither of which seemed viable.

      “Tess?”

      “No names,” she muttered.

      Nope, not that either, Gabe. “Miss?” he asked, trying to come up with some anonymous yet personal mode of address.

      “What?”

      “Are you okay?”

      She smiled again. “I’m lovely. I feel lovely.”

      That didn’t sound bad. “You’re not hurt?”

      “I think I’m going to hurt in the morning,” she said, her eyes still closed, and he wished that she’d open them, look at him, so that he would know she was okay. “Can we do that again?” she asked, her voice dreamy.

      “I don’t know,” stated Gabe, the first and only time in his life that he’d ever said no to a naked female. And Tessa was marvelously naked. Her skin was smooth, and lightly tanned, like pale scotch on a summer’s night. Her breasts were firm, exactly fitting…

       No, no, no…

      He didn’t need to be thinking about Tessa’s firm breasts with nipples the color of…

      Gabe shook his head.