Sheila's Passion Read online

  His lips sucked and nipped at her neck.

  His tongue licked.

  She could feel sizzling arcs and fiery trails of rapture tearing at her senses.

  She wanted.

  She ached.

  Then, he began moving faster, harder.

  If the pleasure was too much to bear before, it became an agony of sensation then.

  Drawing back, he paused, a grimace tightening his lips before he pushed forward, his hips leaning into her with a heavy thrust that buried him full length inside the too-sensitized flesh. Sheila gasped, crying his name as he began to ride her harder, each thrust stealing her breath.

  Each time, every time, it was more intense than the last.

  There was no way to hide her response or maintain her control.

  She lost it the moment he touched her. She couldn’t seem to find a way to regain her balance, or to regain that part of her she could feel herself losing.

  And that was the terrifying part. Though not terrifying enough to make her draw back from him. Not terrifying enough to risk never having him again.

  But right there, in the center of her soul, she could feel herself opening for him, crying out his name and fighting to hold him closer, deeper. She needed to hold him as close as possible or she feared there would be nothing left to hold him to her.

  Her legs wrapped around his hips as he fucked her with a force that left her dizzy. Each powerful thrust was a rocking, full-length, driving motion that sent a storm of sensations whipping through her.

  Her knees lifted higher, clasping his waist, opening the sensitive depths of her pussy to him and she was crying out hoarsely as new nerve endings were raked with the heated rasp of his cock.

  Like iron covered with wet, rough silk, his erection caressed, stroked. Lit a flame of such intense pleasure inside her that it was all she could do to survive the exquisite agony of pleasure.

  Pleasure and pain.

  The muscles of her pussy rippled around the invading flesh. The natural, instinctive response to the pleasure he was giving her created another layer of sensation impossible to resist.

  She couldn’t bear it. She didn’t believe she would survive the onslaught of sensation this time.

  She swore each time she couldn’t bear more. That before she found release she would simply explode from the need and cease to be.

  Then, just as it always did, the world exploded around her instead.

  The blinding response to the rapid-fire strokes, the burning stretch and possession of his cock never failed to take her by surprise. It never failed to open her soul to him a little bit more in the process.

  Unseeing, dazed, her eyes flared wide before her lashes began drifting back over her eyes in rapture. Pulsing, incredible surges of pure white-hot energy imploded through her womb. Her pussy spasmed with the pure, rapturous pleasure. The sensations wrapped around her clit and the pleasure stole reason for long, precious seconds. It overtook her, it destroyed her, and yet it filled her with life.

  It seemed never ending.

  As though the release only built as it exploded again and again, drowning her in more and more ecstasy.

  Then, as the pulsing waves of pleasure threatened to steal her consciousness, they began to ease. Each ripple smaller than the last until they became tremors, shuddering shivers of sensation as his own release pumped inside her and extended the heightened rapture.

  Once she could function again, once time and space resumed their normal evolutions around her, Sheila found herself sprawled beneath him as he collapsed beside her, one arm pulling her to his chest as they both fought for breath. For sanity.

  It was always the same.

  It never mattered the position they were in. It never mattered how often she fought it or how long she went without him. Her response to his touch, to the pleasure, and to the culmination of her fiery response to him was always the same.

  It was overwhelming.

  It overtook her to the point that there was no way to fight it, no way to resist it. There was only the aftermath later, and the knowledge that, just as in the months past, nothing would be said of it tomorrow.

  There was no relationship binding them, no promises, and no commitments. There were no discussions of the future and no mention of tomorrow.

  She never knew from one night to the next where she stood with Casey or even if she stood with him.

  And she was beginning to hate that feeling. She didn’t believe in friends with benefits or in fuck buddies. She needed more. She needed more from Casey.

  As she stared up at the ceiling, she realized their non-relationship didn’t seem to be changing. She was tired of waiting on him to indicate he wanted something more, she acknowledged. She needed more. Perhaps it would be better for both of them if she found the strength to cut it off, once and for all. Otherwise her resentment could end up hurting them both.

  It would definitely be better for her, because Sheila knew she was on the verge of a broken heart.

  TWO

  Nick Casey—just Casey to his friends—struggled to regain his senses after it seemed every one of them had pumped straight from his dick along with his come.

  Sheila did more than drain the sexual tension from his body. There were times he swore she replaced that tension with something far more dangerous to his soul. And he was damned if he wanted to delve into what that “something” was. Hell, it was such an unfamiliar feeling he didn’t even know how to describe it.

  At the moment, the only thing he wanted to delve into was regaining his strength enough to fuck them both silly again.

  At least, that would have been his first option. Instead, he found himself opening his eyes and watching as she rolled from him naked, as naked as sex itself, and padded to the bathroom.

  Shower? He scratched at his naked chest as he peered through one eye at the door she had disappeared through. Did he have the energy to follow her? Maybe wash her back? Then other areas?

  He really, really liked taking a shower with Sheila.

  She made it fun.

  After he convinced her to let him have fun with her.

  He frowned when he didn’t hear the shower running.

  She was in there, but she was too quiet.

  That wasn’t a good thing. When she was that quiet she was thinking. Sheila thinking rarely added up to Casey having fun.

  The last time she was that quiet— He was moving before he finished the thought, but hell, it was already too late.

  The door opened and she stepped out. Dressed.

  Son-of-a-bitch-dammit-to-hell! He felt like stomping his foot in childish petulance. He frowned at her. It was all he could do not to immediately demand she undress again and return to his bed.

  She had even brushed the shoulder-length strands of her dark blond hair and had slid on her shoes. Somehow, she had gathered up her shoes and clothes before going into the bathroom while he’d been debating joining her.

  Hell, he knew better than to drop his guard like that with her. She took advantage of it every friggin’ time.

  “Hey, baby?” He glanced down at the shoes again. “Why are you dressed?” Play it cool, he thought, maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

  “Because I’m going home.”

  It was that bad, damn it to fucking hell! He should just lock her in his room with him.

  She moved to the dresser, where she collected her purse.

  How pissed would she get if he tied her to the bed?

  It took a minute for him to process the fact that she was definitely leaving. He was a bit slow sometimes, he admitted. It had been a killer week and he was sleepy. One of those weary spells that invariably turned into full-fledged insomnia unless he managed to convince her to sleep in his arms. He slept like a baby whenever he could exhaust her enough to ensure she fell asleep just after release.

  He made it to the door of the small apartment before she did, hoping there was some way to convince her not to leave. Naked, certain there had to be a way
to accomplish keeping her there. Convince her to sleep with him. Just one night.

  “Why?” He moved in front of her, blocking her way as he watched her eyes narrow on him. Those deep violet eyes held the faintest spark of anger, as though he had done something to offend her.

  What the hell could he have done? Hell, he’d just made her come hard enough that her pussy had nearly strangled his dick as it tightened around him. He was more than willing to repeat the experience, too.

  “Enough, Casey.” There was an edge of steel in her voice, but those soft, soft violet eyes were filled with hurt. “I want to go home, not stand and argue with you.” An edge of hurt lingered in her voice and he was damned if he could figure out why.

  He lifted his hand, the backs of his knuckles brushing against the silk of her cheek as he stared down at her, confused.

  Her gaze flickered. For a second, for just the briefest second, he saw the passion, the promise, and the incredible sensual depths of the woman in those pretty eyes. He also saw the same, confusing emotions he felt himself before they disappeared.

  “Don’t.” She pulled back rather than leaning into him as he knew she wanted to do. She wanted him, ached as he ached for her. In her eyes he saw the need to stay, and that she wanted to return to that big bed with him.

  He knew she wanted to. He didn’t just see it in her gaze, he could feel it. Like a touch that was there, yet wasn’t. Like a flame that connected them, licking over both their bodies.

  And it made his dick damned hard. So damned hard that for a second he wondered if he really had fucked her. Or only imagined it?

  In a heartbeat he was iron-hard, hot and ready to fuck, and he wondered how she could possibly find the inner strength to walk out on him when he knew she felt the same.

  “Geez, Casey.” Breathless, amazed, she glanced down at the erection attempting to stab into her lower belly. Fully engorged, the thick bulging head dark and throbbing, his cock was literally begging for attention. Weeping for it even.

  “You make me crazy,” he muttered, his hand dropping as he stared down at her before backing away. Hell, he wasn’t going to beg her to stay. He sure as hell wasn’t going to allow her to feel as though he were attempting to force her to stay.

  She truly did make him crazy as hell. Completely insane like no other woman ever had. There was something about her that drew him, confused him, and made him feel things he didn’t always understand. Things he didn’t want to feel.

  “I don’t mean to make you crazy.” She was breathless.

  Damn, he loved that sexy little edge to her voice when she became breathless.

  The sound of that edge of arousal in it had the power to make his balls tighten with the need to have her. The need to fuck her until there wasn’t a chance in hell she could ever deny him again rose inside him.

  “Hell, I can’t get enough of you.” He reached for her, and she backed away.

  Sheila had never backed away from him before. What the hell was wrong with her?

  His eyes narrowed. “What’s going on, Sheila?”

  Her chin lifted, and that little glimmer of feminine fire shifted from arousal to pure feminine determination.

  Ah, hell. This wasn’t a good thing. This meant he’d obviously done something completely male—and managed to either hurt her or piss her off.

  He was in trouble now, and Casey damned well knew it.

  “Nothing’s going on, Casey.” Her lips thinned and her eyes seemed to darken with the lie. Casey always knew when she was lying. And she only lied to him, according to her, when he should be able to answer his questions himself.

  He’d never seen denial in her eyes when it came to him, though. At the moment, there was pure rejection gleaming there.

  “Don’t give me that shit,” he growled. “We’ve never played games with each other. Not like this. I don’t want to start now. I won’t let you start now.”

  “I was never the one playing games.”

  Casey’s eyes narrowed. Every man in the world knew that tone of voice.

  Those violet eyes flashed again with the edge of anger, and Casey knew he was screwed.

  “What the hell did I do?” Pushing his fingers through his hair, he wished the damned hard-on would abate just a little bit. It was hard as hell to be demanding when all he wanted to do was fuck the temperamental little minx.

  She delighted in making him crazy, he decided. And she could make him crazy as hell faster than anyone he’d ever known.

  “You didn’t do anything.” She lifted her shoulder in a shrug that warned him he sure as hell had done something. And he better find “her” way, to fix it fast.

  See, this was what drove him crazy. It made him want to pull his own hair out because he couldn’t figure out what the hell he had done. She was obviously expecting him to know this time what he had or hadn’t done. Whichever, he probably had only moments to fix it before she walked out that door.

  “Look, just tell me what your problem is, and I’ll fix it.” He glared back at her as he crossed his arms over his chest, certain his erection would deflate any second. Surely his dick would get a clue and just give it up.

  It would have with any other woman giving him this kind of grief. Hell, it had never failed to deflate permanently with any other woman who dared to pull this shit on him.

  Especially when he didn’t know what he’d done to piss his soon to be ex-lover off. So why the hell hadn’t it deflated yet? Why was he still standing there like a boob trying to figure out how to get her back in his bed?

  “Didn’t I do something right?” he demanded when that slender little hip cocked to the side and delicate fingers curved over it. The index finger tapped against her jeans silently. He’d only seen her do that a few times, and never with him. Until now.

  Yep, he was in trouble. He just wished he knew why. How. Or what to do to fix it.

  “You’ll fix it, will you?” she asked silkily as her thick lashes fluttered over her mocking gaze. “Why, Casey, I just can’t tell you how your offer makes my little heart beat faster.”

  Uh huh. He could tell. He really could. She was so damned sarcastic he almost winced.

  He quickly ran through the night once again, just to be certain. Just to assure himself he hadn’t done anything blatantly stupid. Because he really wasn’t a stupid man where woman were concerned.

  Had he gotten her a drink when she showed up at the bar?

  Check.

  He’d bought them all drinks and sent her a plate of the seasoned fries she liked as well. She and her friends sat in the corner booth and had a nice little visit. He had made certain they had everything they needed. And he’d paid for it all himself.

  He’d kissed her before he got her in the car?

  Check.

  Fuck, he’d been so hungry for her he hadn’t been able to keep from kissing her like he was dying for her.

  He’d been romantic about it?

  Hell yes.

  He loved the feel of her hair, so he’d slid his hand into it, along the side of her face in the way he knew she liked. He knew, because it always made her eyes a little darker, and her face flush with feminine need. And he’d started that kiss slow and easy while he’d held her on the dance floor.

  Once he’d gotten her to his apartment had he offered her another drink? Check there too.

  He’d even offered her a snack or a meal.

  He’d turned on the music, danced with her again, easing her slowly into the deepest flames of the arousal that began to burn inside them. Just because he loved the feel of her against him. Loved the way she rubbed against him.

  “Look, Casey, I just want to go home,” she informed him as she stepped to the door and gripped the knob. This time, he didn’t try to stop her. He wasn’t going to beg her. They weren’t kids. They were supposed to be adults. Adults didn’t play teenage games like this. At least, they shouldn’t.

  “Fine, when you feel in the mood to tell me what’s wrong with you, then you
know where to find me.”

  “Of course I do.” He almost winced at the sound of her voice and the mockery that filled it. “Every night.”

  “Pretty much,” he agreed with a tight nod. “I’ve never been hard to find. Made sure of it where you were concerned.”

  That only seemed to piss her off worse. Her fingers tightened on the doorknob and for a moment he thought she just might actually say whatever the hell was on her mind. He was certain the adult in her was ready to give up the game and just be honest with him.

  Then her lips thinned again; she stepped through the doorway and slammed the door closed behind her.

  Casey winced at the sound of metal meeting metal.

  She had slammed the door on him. Hell, he couldn’t believe it.

  She might be more than just a little pissed.

  She was pure female pissed with a healthy dose of “done had enough” when she slammed doors. Sheila wasn’t normally a door slammer.

  It was cute as hell actually. It was even damned arousing, though the fact that he found it arousing confused him more than he understood.

  Running his fingers through his hair again, Casey did his best to try to figure out what he’d done. The funny thing was, she hadn’t even hinted at being angry until she’d left the bathroom.

  There was hurt in her eyes too.

  He couldn’t figure out how he’d hurt her.

  He was damned if he could figure any of it out.

  Casey rubbed at his chest before moving back to the bedroom, his gaze going over the bed critically before moving around the room as though there might be an answer there somewhere. Some way to figure out how he could have hurt her, or pissed her off.

  She’d been just as hungry for him as he’d been for her when they had arrived at his apartment. Come to think of it, she had been just as eager for him as he was for her before they even left the bar.

  It always amazed him how easily she matched his need. Kiss for kiss, touch for touch, pure sensual, sexual need driving them both to the brink of sanity.