Free Damsel in Distress by Liz Stafford Page A

squeezed. Any resistance that might have lingered in the back of his brain deserted him.
    This was moving way too fast. Even though he knew in the deepest recesses of his mind that someday they would be a couple, he didn’t want to chance frightening her off. Besides, her other hand had dropped, and was moving the waistband from his cock, which would have sprung free, if it hadn’t been for the jockey shorts...
    Okay, never mind the jockeys. They were history too, shoved down and holding his thighs hostage. He moved one of his hands around to her front and touched a breast. Just a feathering glance intended to show her he was prepared to be a gentleman. His index finger grazed a nipple—
    Oh man, she wasn’t wearing a bra.
    Double oh man—the damned scrubs didn’t have pockets. No place to store a condom. Oh hell, he wouldn’t have been carrying the things around at work anyway.
    Shawn eased back from her grasp. A quickie in a customer’s living room was pushing the boundaries of good taste, and to do it without protection—even with the someday mother of his children—was out of the question.
    “Carmen, we have to stop. I don’t have any condoms.”
    She sent him a slant-faced expression that he couldn’t read. Then she moved away, and disappeared around a corner. A drawer opened, something got fumbled around, and then the drawer slammed. She returned at a trot, a trio of foil packets in one fist. Shawn’s heart did a happy jig.
    After that, it was as if his hands belonged to someone else. The appendages divested the beautiful lady of her shirt. They fondled both breasts at the same time, flicking the tiny nubs of nipples to hard points. When he sucked on them he was sure he pulled in half of her breast, but she didn’t complain and he loved every blasted moment.
    His hands hung suspended in midair as she backed away long enough to tear open one of the packets with her teeth. Then she expertly rolled the bright pink, strawberry-flavored condom over his throbbing dick.
    She didn’t drag him into a bedroom. Didn’t even urge him to the sectional leather sofa four feet away. She sucked his tongue down the back of her throat, placed both hands on his shoulders and leaped. In a nanosecond she’d hovered her waiting wetness over him. In another second, she plunged downward, wrapping her juicy heat around him and closing him in a womblike embrace. His cock slid easily inside and Shawn’s knees nearly buckled. The only way this could be any f-ing nicer would be if they were marr—
    She began pumping. Up. Down. Up. He hoped she came fast; it would be sexual demolition if he couldn’t hold it till she gleaned every ounce of pleasure from this.
    One more. Two. Three. Please hurry , he almost shouted. She thrust down the fourth time. The walls of her vagina squeezed, pulsated, squeezed some more. They climaxed together, each with the vengeance of an earthquake. Carmen threw back her head and squealed. The sound twisted his eardrums and clamped off the ebbing waves of his orgasm.
    “Your neighbors are going to think I’m butchering you.”
    Carmen unwound her legs from his back and jumped to the floor. She peeled the condom off his penis and bent and kissed his flaccid flesh. He tried to pull away—limp dicks weren’t the most attractive things. But Carmen had hold of it with both hands. She touched it to the bridge of her nose, slid it down, down, and jammed it in her mouth and sucked. He nearly came again.
    The L word shot onto the back of his tongue.
    No, no, screamed the conscious side of his brain. Don’t scare her away.
    Carmen released the suction and let his dick thump against his sack. She pulled up his clothes and raced to the kitchen. He hoped she’d come back with a beer, but she’d only rid herself of the condom. She gripped his chin with both hands, kissed the corner of his mouth and opened the front door.
    He knew he stared at it as if he’d never seen a door before. He’d never been in a