Dawn Atkins - Friendly Persuasion

That wasn’t enough for Miguel, who lifted her chin. “Look,” he murmured. “You are lovely.”

So Kara looked Katherine right in the eye. And liked what she saw. The sexy lingerie was perfect on her pale skin. Her blond hair had a sexy tousled look, her cheeks were pink with excitement, and her eyes gleamed wickedly.

She reached up to cup Miguel’s jaw, loving the picture they made. Miguel’s body framed hers, his olive skin, dark brown suit and dark hair a delicious contrast to her fairness.

He reached under her arms to cup her breasts through the black lace, holding them completely, as if to own them. The sight was pure sex. Heat shot from her breasts to her core. She pushed her backside against him, sliding against his erection, glorying in it, feeling wicked and wanton.

Then Miguel slowly teased the teddy straps from her shoulders, his fingertips tickling her skin—an exquisite and shivery sensation. He tugged the flimsy fabric down to her waist, baring her breasts to them both in the mirror. She watched her nipples knot with arousal, feeling the sweet, tight pain of it at the same time.

Ross lifted her breasts lovingly, as if they were fragile as eggshells. His breath hissed and his eyes closed with the pleasure of touching her.

Then she had to touch his skin, to see him naked in the mirror, too. She turned and pushed his jacket from his shoulders and he shook it to the floor. She began to unbutton his shirt, but her fingers trembled and the second buttonhole was tight. The moment stretched.

“Allow me,” Ross said, working on the button himself, smiling confidently at her as he tried to loosen it. Except he couldn’t get it either. “Forget it,” he muttered in Ross’s voice. He crossed his arms, grabbed the shirt hem and yanked it up and over his head.

She ran her fingers across his taut pectorals, then his flat stomach. He groaned and closed his eyes.

“You must get lots of exercise in Argentina on your hacienda,” she murmured.

“Enough, I guess,” he said, sounding shaky with lust. He pushed her teddy down her body until it fell to the floor.

Once she was naked before him, he paused, awe in his expression. “You’re beautiful,” he said, sounding very Ross. He caught himself and resumed in his accent, “You are like art, Señorita Katherine. Perfección.” He ran his hands along the curves of her hips.

She felt so wonderful, so aroused, she didn’t have her usual urge to slip under the covers and keep her partner too busy to look at her very closely. Instead, she reveled in her nakedness and wanted to enjoy his.

“Now you,” she said, and unhooked his buckle and zipper, not surprised to find no underwear behind them. Miguel, like Ross seemed to be a man who would forgo any unnecessary barrier to sensation.

Ross stopped her from pushing his pants to the floor so he could take something out of his pocket—a short strip of condoms. Bless him for his thoughtfulness.

“I’m on the Pill,” she said. “And healthy.”

“I’m good,” he said, returning the condoms to his pocket before he let his pants fall.

“I’m sure you are,” she said, her gaze drawn down his body to his erection. She glanced up at his face.

“For you,” he said. “I am this way for you.”

She grasped him gently.

He groaned, gripping her upper arm, his fingers digging in. “You make me crazy,” he said, his voice hoarse with need.

“You mean loco,” she murmured, sliding her hand along the solid length of him, loving the way he quaked at her touch. “And that’s what I want—to make you crazy in both your languages.” That was a very sexy thing to say, she realized, liking Katherine a lot.

Then Ross released her arms and slid his palms slowly down her arms and across her hips, his touch so light he barely made contact with her skin. He skimmed the surface of her pubic hair, setting the nerve endings there on fire. He was teasing her, and she couldn’t stand it.

“Touch me, please,” she said, pushing herself toward him. His fingers slid in and oh, so lightly brushed her clitoris. Liquid gushed from her and she feared she’d climax before she got to feel him inside her.

As if he’d read her mind, he lifted her off her feet and set her gently on the table beside the mirror, the cool marble a delicious shock to her thighs, and teased her with the tip of his penis.

She automatically wrapped her legs around his waist as if this were the most natural position in the world instead of something completely new to her. She tried to pull him into her.

“Slowly, sweetheart. Let’s make this last.” He turned so they could see themselves in the mirror. “Look at us,” he whispered.

She looked. The sight was erotic and illicit—as if they were voyeurs to their own ecstasy. As she watched, Ross lowered his mouth to suck her left nipple. The sight set her on fire and the sweet tightness made her gasp. She threw back her head, afraid she would explode or scream or pass out.

“Is this good?” he asked her. “Does this feel good?”

“Oh…it…oh…it’s so…” She could only gasp single syllables.

“Good,” he said, triumph in his voice. He pushed into her, millimeter by exquisite millimeter.

“Please, more,” she moaned, not caring what she said as long as she got more of him.

He moved faster, his body trembling with urgency as he thrust deeper and harder.

“Oh, oh, oh,” she gasped. Now and then she caught sight of them in the mirror—her knees spread, breasts swollen and tight-tipped, his buttocks rippling as he thrust into her—powerful, yet needy, too.

Then his speed quickened even more. He moaned, then slammed into her and exploded, the spasm bringing on her own climax. She cried out, writhing and twisting while he pumped into her for long, glorious seconds. When it was over, she sagged against him, tucking her face into his neck. “That was amazing,” she breathed.

“Yeah,” he said, then, almost as an afterthought, “señorita.”

She smiled into his neck.

He slid out of her body, then hugged her in a familiar way. Uh-oh. She became abruptly aware that she’d just had sex with her friend Ross. She slid to the floor, embarrassed. “I’d better go,” she said, and kissed him on the cheek.

She grabbed the puddle of silk and lace—her dress and teddy—from the floor and rushed into the bathroom to dress. When she came out, Ross was sitting up in the bed, beautiful and tan against the white sheets.

“Why don’t you stay?” he said. “We have the room all night.” His expression promised even more sensual delights.

But that would spoil the illusion. Like Cinderella before the clock sounded midnight, she had to get away before reality sank in. She slipped on her shoes and shook her head. “That would be too much. You gave me exactly what I needed.”

“I’m glad.”

“You were perfect—a perfect stranger.”

He saluted her. “I aim to please.” But that was too Ross, so he added, “Adiós, cara mía.”

“Adiós, Miguel, mi amor,” she said with a grin.

All the way home, she felt invigorated. She couldn’t believe that was her with her legs around Ross’s hips, crying out wildly for more. Just like one of Ross’s women. She’d never had sex like that in her life—reveling in her body, watching herself move and moan. And sitting on a table? Omigod. She would have thought it would be too awkward. But nooo. With Ross it was graceful and perfect.

She tested herself. Did she feel she was falling in love? Not at all. She felt sensual and confident and relaxed and wonderful. It had been just the way Tina described it—two people sharing physical pleasure. It didn’t have to be love.

Except, what would happen when she saw Ross at S&S for their noon game of spades? It could be really, really weird. Or really, really funny. Or really, really hot. She had no idea which.