How did he do that? Make her feel desired and wanted one minute, and then like a common slut the next? She didn’t have much, but she did have her pride. She swallowed. “Sorry. Thank you for the compliment—I think—but I’m not interested in a fuck right now.” Though her wet pussy begged to differ. “I’m interested in a keyboardist—sorry, pianist—for my band tonight. But I’m not willing to sell my body for it.”
Chandler closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. “God. That only makes me want you more. You’re killing me.” He opened his eyes and pierced her with their smoky jade beauty. “Fine. I’ll play for you whether you fuck me or not. But I hope you’ll fuck me. I want you so badly. You have the sweetest cunt I’ve ever tasted, you know that?”
Cunt. Had she ever heard the word spoken aloud? Not in this lifetime. But it was dirty, nasty. And God she liked it.
“You get so wet, so juicy,” he continued. “And your asshole is so cute and pink and tight. Fuck.” He shook his head. “If I can’t have you at least once I think I’ll go insane.” He gripped her shoulders.
His touch singed her. If not for his grip she’d be a mass of jelly on the floor, she was sure of it.
“Are you attracted to me at all, Janie?”
Had he really just asked that question? She’d nearly fallen into bed with him twenty-four hours earlier. She opened her mouth, but no words emerged.
“I think you are.” He stroked her cheek. “I think you want me as much as I want you. That’s what you said before. You responded to me yesterday. You got so fucking wet for me.”
“I…” She couldn’t think. His hand on her face was so hot, and yet so gentle.
Who was he? Was he the arrogant ass who wanted a quick fuck from a hot woman? Or was he the heartbroken man who made her feel wanted and desired?
“I want your juices pooling on the lid of my piano.” His already deep voice lowered. “I want to pin you down, shove my hard cock in your sweet little pussy. Tell me you want that too, Janie. Tell me, and I’ll give you the best fuck of your life.”
Rational thought fled her brain. She wanted him. How could she deny it? He was gorgeous, talented, and he ate pussy like a champion. “Yes, Chandler, I want you.”
He crushed his lips down on hers in a frenzy of raw passion. The kiss was hard, even painful at times as his teeth gnashed against hers. Their tongues dueled, their lips meshed, muffled grunts escaped both their throats. Chandler paused, drew a ragged breath against her lips, and set about devouring her again. Was it possible he deepened the pressure of his strong mouth? Yes, he did. More passion, more primal need flowed from him to her, and she returned it with equal ardor.
Her arms crept upward and she grasped his sculpted shoulders, warm beneath the black cotton of his shirt. Animal instinct took over. She trailed her fingers to his collar and ripped the shirt open. Buttons hit the hardwood floor with several small pings.
The curve of his lips smashed against hers. He was smiling. She could feel it. One strong arm moved downward and a hand plunged inside the waistband of her jeans.
He broke the kiss and trailed his moist lips to her ear. “Are you wet for me, baby?”
She whimpered as he sifted through her curls and reached her sodden core.
“God yes”—his voice was husky—“so wet for me.”
She pulled his shirt out from the waistband of his jeans and pushed the fabric off his shoulders. He freed one arm, but the shirt hung on the other as he continued to rub the lips of her wet pussy.
“Too many clothes,” she said against his golden neck. She kissed him, nibbled him.
His chuckle rumbled against her cheek. “We can take care of that. But I have to stop touching you.”
Stop touching her? She might die! “No. Touch me. Put your finger in my pussy. Please.”
“Oh, baby, I’ll be happy to. But let’s get naked first and I can do it so much better.”
Yes, naked. That’s what she was after. She forced her lips from his flesh and moved backward, dislodging his hand from her inside her pants. Quickly she started to pull her T-shirt over her head.
“No. Let me.” Chandler reached beneath her shirt and caressed her bare belly. “I want to unwrap you.”
“But that’ll take too long.”
He let out a short laugh. “Yes, I can see you’re in a hurry.” He brushed the remaining sleeve of his shirt off his arm. It fell to the floor in a heap. “But I want to savor you, Janie. Let me undress you.” He fingers stroked her skin as he pulled the shirt off her slowly.
“This is madness,” she said, her voice breathy.
“Well, we’re a little mad, aren’t we?” He pulled the shirt over her head, tossed it to the floor, leaned down, and buried his face in her cleavage and kissed the tops of her breasts. “Isn’t that what a good fuck is? What passion is? A little bit of madness?”
Yes. He made perfect sense. “Like the piece you were playing.”