Tuesday, April 16, 2013

A Man Worth Waiting for - Episode 17

Demola drove down the sloppy road with his Power Bike, the hot air surrounding him. The night was quiet. The moon full. The atmosphere peaceful. A late-night bareback ride usually calmed him.

But not tonight.

A river of acid poured through his gut. His chest fell like several strands of barbed wire were cutting it in half. And no matter how fast he chased over the terrain, he couldn't get the picture of Tomilola out of his head.

When she'd stepped out of the big house tonight with the other girls, he'd just about had a heart attack. What the hell had she been thinking, putting on something that made her look as sexy as that top had? Every man at the bar would be drooling over her. He sure as hell had been, standing in his house in the dark, hiding so Tomilola wouldn't see him spying on her. And the thought of some other man drooling over her sent a white-hot surge of rage through him. It had taken every ounce of his willpower not to stalk across the road, toss her over his shoulder and lock her in the nearest closet. Or drag her to his bed.

Unfortunately, he couldn't do either. Not unless he wanted to pull Tomilola down to his level. So he'd gritted his teeth and watched her crawl into the car with her friends and drive off to the bar. A bar he knew would be filled with music, booze and horny men.

Men who wouldn't know she wasn't dressed for them.

He swore into the night. She might not be dressed for them tonight, but sooner or later she would be. Sooner or later she'd go home with one of them. Or bring one of them home with her. Sooner or later another man would kiss her. Take her.

He swore again, long and hard, as he pulled to a stop. He fully intended to sit here, all night if necessary, and wait for Tomilola and the girls to come home. Stupid and sophomoric, like driving by a girl's house to see if she was there, but here he was.

The moonlight washed everything in a quiet, silvery light, making it easy to see the lone figure walking down the wide, dity road. He squinted into the twilight.


The figure startled, a surprised squeal bursting from her lips as she looked up toward him. But once she spotted him, she relaxed a bit. "Demola?"

He nodded, "What are you doing walking out here?"

Her lips twisted ruefully and she waved a hand down the road. "Here's a little bit of irony for you. I got a flat."
He smiled, relief flowing through him. It wasn't much past ten; if they were heading home this early, they obviously weren't having much fun romancing the men. "I can fix that for you. How far back is the car? I take it the other girls are there, waiting for you to bring help."

She shook her head. "They were having too much fun at the bar. They were going to close the place, then hitch some of the Big W men there. And if the tire were fixable, I'd have done it by now. But the spare was flat, too."

He looked at her feet. The pretty leather sandals looked new. She probably had blisters on top of blisters already. He could hardly leave her here to finish the walk home. Although with the full moon overhead, only one Power bike to share and his nerves already drawn tighter, it would undoubtedly be the safer decision. Steeling himself for the ride ahead, he swung off his bike. "You can call the rental company in the morning. They can send someone to get it. In the meantime, let's get you home."

Her brows went up as she gave the bike a good look. "With this?"

"Any problem with it? Actually, considering your skirt, it'll make things easier." He assisted her onto the bike.

"I'm not sure I can stay on this way once we start moving."

"Don't worry. I won't let you fall." And putting her on would require rucking her skirt halfway up her legs. A display he was pretty damned sure he wasn't up to. He swung onto the bike and started it.

He gritted his teeth. Okay, this was every bit as bad as he'd imagined. And then some. But there wasn't much he could do about it, except do the best he could to keep his mind otherwise occupied.  They were moving.

"So how come you left the bar early?" Despite himself, he wanted to hear that she hadn't found anyone who interested her as much as he did.

"I wasn't having much fin, and there was this guy there, Chris Aigbe. Know him?"

He blocked out the feel of her hip snuggling into his back and tried not to notice that her perfectly plumped breasts were hitting him at the back. "Yeah." Great, he sounded like he had a ton of gravel in his throat. He cleared his throat. "He considers himself quite a ladies' man."

"No kidding. He was all over me." She shuddered. "The guy must have ten hands. And he kisses like a leech."

Shock ran through him. "You kissed him?"

She bristled indignantly. "He kissed me. And don't take that tone with me. If you didn't want other men kissing me you should have come when we invited you."

His brows shot toward his hatband. "Let me get this straight. I wouldn't play, so you went looking for the first guy who would?"

"No," she snapped, her expression turning downright peevish. "But if I had, you couldn't possibly complain about it."

"The hell I couldn't."

Her gaze snapped, her eyes going wide and then narrowing to a sly, dark slits.

Dammit. He'd blown it now.

They had turned into a very quiet environment, very close to the estate. Demola pulled to a stop, climbing down and gazing into the sky.

Tomilola followed him, stopping right in front of him. Her expression turned positively wicked. "What's wrong, Demola? Did it bother you thinking I was at a bar with other men? Men who, unlike you, would have no qualms about dragging me down to their level?'

He looked away, refusing to take the bait. "Let it go, Tomilola."

But it didn't take more than a glance at her sly expression to know she had no intention of letting it go.

"You know. . ." her voice dripped . . ."Chris wasn't really my type. But there were a lot of other cute men there."

He pictured her checking out the men at the bar. Pictured them checking her out. He drew a deep breath, reining in his jealousy.

"Amaka pointed out this one guy who was giving us the eye. He was pretty cute, dressed up in his Friday-night best, with his dark, wavy hair and these rather startling brown eyes."

"Shut up, Tomilola." He'd just spent the last three hours thinking about how much he wanted her, aching with that want. No way would he stand here calmly and listen to her talk about other men.

But she didn't even pause. "His shoulders weren't as broad as yours, but the rest of him wasn't bad. Great. . ."

His control snapped.

The day would surely come when he had to watch her walk into another man's arms. But, by God, today would not be that day. He slammed his lips over hers.

She didn't hesitate. She leaned into him, wrapped her arms around his neck and opened her mouth to his.

He deepened the kiss. She tasted hotter than he remembered. Sweeter. And he couldn't get enough. He pulled her closer.

Somewhere in the remotest part of his brain, he knew he was making a huge mistake. Knew he had no right to touch her. But no one knew they were here. No one would ever know what happened here under the moonlight. And he couldn't stop himself. He had to touch her. Had to taste her. Had to have her. Now, if not forever.

She pressed closer, moving really closer so she was more toward him.

Had anything ever felt this good? He cupped her breast, her soft fullness filling his palm. But a touch wasn't enough. He pulled his lips from hers. "I want to see you."

A slight blush colored her cheeks, but she made no move to stop him when he lifted her breasts from the skimpy, strapless top. The moonlight glinted off her, shimmering through her curls cascading over her shoulders, shadowing the space between her breasts and highlighting the full luscious globes and her pebble-hard nipples. He sucked in a hissing breath. "Gorgeous."

Desire darkened her eyes, and she reached for his shirt. "Let's level the playing field, shall we?' She pulled the plackets of his shirt apart, the sound of popping snaps reverberating around them as she bared his chest. She ran  her hands up, starting at the bottom of his ribs and progressing up over his pecs. "Gorgeous doesn't cover it."

The fit of his jeans became downright painful at her look of admiration. He wanted to pull her off the floor and take her right then and there. But he resisted the urge.

This was a stolen moment. There would be no repeats of what happened tonight. He wanted it to be special. He wanted to be able to look back and remember every second. He wanted Tomilola to remember every second.

Ruthlessly ignoring the need pounding through him, he pushed a curl back from her face and ran his finger over her delicate collarbone, savoring the silkiness of her skin, memorizing the delicate lines of her neck and shoulders and the seductive swell of her breasts. "Open heavens, a good power-bike and a half-naked woman. Every man's dream."

"I don't want to be a dream. I want to be real. And I want this to go on. Every night." Her sultry voice floated through the warm night. "Every second of every day."

His heart squeezed. "Shh. Just because you want something doesn't make it possible. Tonight is what we have. Let's not spoil it."

Pain flashed in her eyes. "I'm not going to spoil it, but I'm not going to give in to your martyrdom, either. I want more than tonight and I'm going to do everything in my power to convince you that you do, too." She pulled his lips back to hers.

He drank her in, savoring her taste, her heat. It wasn't about what he wanted. It was about what was best for her. But he wouldn't waste another moment arguing about it. Not tonight. He ran his hands up her back into the silky mass of her hair, angling her head just so.

She opened her mouth wider, allowing him deeper access, her tongue squaring with his. A frustrated sound vibrated in her throat, and she broke the kiss. "Let's find somewhere better."

"I have a better idea." He pulled Tomilola to a pavement and with a few quick adjustments had Tomilola facing him, her legs over his, the very core of her snuggled up tight against his aching need, her hair streaming down her back, her skirt spread wide over her legs and his lap.

Her eyes went wide and then she chuckled, low and sexy. "You're a wicked man, Demola Adeyemi."

He liked the sound of his name on her lips. Far, far, more than he should. Pushing the thought away, he concentrated on the moment. "Just wait. It gets better."

He fingers bit into his shoulders. A hard shudder ran through her. "A wicked, wicked man." Her voice was rough and smoky as she leaned forward and delivered a love bite to the base of his neck.

The stinging sensation shot straight to his groin. He pulled her hips forward, rocking into her.

She shivered in his arms. "Too many clothes." She leaned back just enough to get her hands between them. With shaky fingers, she went to work at his silver buckle.

"Good idea." He slid his hands through under the hem of her skirt and worked his way slowly up her thighs, exploring, memorizing every inch of firm muscle and silken skin along the way.

As he pushed her skirt over her hips, a tiny triangle of red silk lace came into view. He groaned softly. "You're killing me here."

She smiled, a woman's smile, one filled with confidence and desire and something else he refused to put a name to. "I thought you might like them."
"Very much. But they gotta go." He hated to ruin the sexy garment, but he didn't see any other way to get it off her beyond tearing one of the tiny bands of elastic slashing across her delectable hips. And the thought of some other guy enjoying them at a future date. . .

With one quick pull, he broke the elastic and slid the other half down her leg, out of his way.

She chuckled softly. "I don't know if I should be offended by that move. . .or flattered. Although, considering the evidence before me. . ." she ran her fingers over the bulge of his arousal . . . "I'm thinking flattered."

"Definitely flattered," he said through gritted teeth. "Do you need some help there?"

"Nope, I'm doing just fine." Her teeth flashed in a sexy, teasing smile as she carefully slid his zipper down.

He sprang free.

She inhaled softly. "Forget flattered, let's move straight to purely impressed."

Fire raced through him. He'd never wanted anything as much as he wanted her, right here, right now. "I'd like to drag this on for hours, but I can't wait any longer." He lowered his head, crushing her lips beneath his. Sliding his hands under her thighs, he lifted her, adjusting her position until the head of his arousal nudged at her soft folds.

She pulled her lips from his just long enough to whisper, "I don't want to wait, either."

A silent prayer of thanks whispered through his head. Slowly, deliberately, he lowered her. Her wet heat wrapped around him like a tight fist. He gritted his teeth, holding on to his control by the breast of threads.

For several steps they clung to each other.

She ran her hands over his chest, looking up at him, her eyelids at half-mast. "Do you see how good this is? Do you realize how good it could be?"

His heart squeezed again. He couldn't give her what she wanted, but he could give her something to remember. "Shh. Just feel." He buried himself deeper in Tomilola's warmth.

"Ohh." She breathed the exclamation, her fingers closing around his arms, keeping herself balanced as he kept their hips locked together. Another moan whispered from her lips as she rocked back a bit, adjusting her position, taking him deeper.

Demola strained a deep, stabilizing breath through his teeth as he struggled to hold on to his control and stared down at the woman in his arms. The woman wrapped around the most intimate part of him. The moonlight glinted off her hair, her breasts, her wet, swollen lips.

So beautiful.

And so damned dear.

She looked into his eyes, letting him see her desire, letting him see how much she wanted him. She hid nothing from him, held nothing back as she took him into her body. Her heart was in her eyes. And she was offering it to him.

The fire blazing through him turned into an inferno. What little control he had slipped away. He wanted all of her. Her body, her heart and her sweet cries of ecstasy echoing in his ears.

Her fingers tightened as he pushed deeper, sharpening her pleasure. His pleasure, Her inner muscles tightened around him, caressing, demanding. But he held on. Waiting. Waiting.

A soft groan slipped from her lips. She snapped tight as a bow, a low, keening wail bursting from her lips as she came apart in his arms.

He followed her with a hard shout of his own, the world exploding around him.

With a single command, he gathered Tomilola close, holding her tight. Holding on to her like a dying man holding on to his last, precious breath.

Had he thought he could steal this one night, these few moments and then go back to pretending there was nothing between them? That she was no more than his boss?


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