Hard Target by Tibby Armstrong Read Free Book Online

he’d pierced her pussy with his tongue. The depth and force of his rapid lingual thrusts had her clutching at his hair. Little mewling noises and her pleas for more filled his ears. He pressed the pad of his thumb against the nub of her clit. Circled, then flicked. A flood of juices hit his tongue, their musky-sweet stickiness tapping reserves of lust he hadn’t known he’d possessed.
    His still-sensitive shaft pulsed against his leg, forcing a pleasure-pain groan from his lips. Alex gasped, clutched him harder and bucked upward. He hummed against her slick heat. Thighs quivering around his ears, fists tugging at his hair, she opened to him. Her sex pulsed its nectar onto his tongue and bathed his palate with the taste of her desire. Harsh breaths mingling, her scent perfuming the air, they came down from their lovemaking slowly. Neither of them moved for minutes, or maybe hours.
    That had been a lifetime ago…
    Simon met his reflection in the mirror. He stood alone, softening cock in his palm. Evidence of his successful self-pleasuring coated his fingertips. A quick glance confirmed he’d closed the bathroom door. He quickly rinsed his hands and tucked himself away. Catching his high color in the mirror he shook his head. No way should he still be fantasizing to memories of Alex. He didn’t care if he stood in her bathroom, in her apartment, or slept in her bed. He needed to keep his distance. Especially if he hoped to keep his heart intact. She had a way of getting under his skin. Of insinuating herself into his life in ways he’d never anticipated and couldn’t defend against.
    Emerging from the bathroom, he paused at the end of her bed. She rolled her head toward him. Lids heavy, the stretch of her arms lengthening her torso and lifting her breasts, she presented the prettiest picture he’d ever seen. His belly tightened with longing and he swallowed down a surge of need.
    “Comfortable?”
    “No.” Her answer, filled with throaty need, tightened his already sated balls.
    Somehow, Alexandra Valentine always managed to sound like ice-encased smoke—crystalline and husky all at once. Angel-sanctioned sin, one of Simon’s ex CIA colleagues said. She drove a man wild. At least a man who liked that sort of thing, which Simon emphatically did not. At least not from this woman. Not any longer.
    He let a beat of silence pass. “If I let you go, can I sleep in the bed?”
    She seemed to consider the question. To his surprise she answered honestly. “No.”
    He sighed deep. Needing sleep more than a clear conscience, he drew the drapes closed on the morning sunlight. The bed creaked as he climbed under the covers. Back to her, head pillowed on his right arm, he closed his eyes.
    “I hate you,” she murmured, sounding half asleep.
    “Believe me,” he said, “I know.”
    * * * * *
     
    Darkness hadn’t yet fallen when Simon awakened. A subdued golden light peeked through the moss-green draperies, lending them a fairy glen glow. He rolled his head to the side and took in Alex’s still-sleeping form. The only thing different about this morning from any other he’d spent in her bed was their lack of tangled limbs. No soft curves pressed against him. Nothing warm, pliable and distinctly feminine rubbed his erection. Familiarity and regret stole over him simultaneously. So many times he’d awoken before her and made the coffee she loved, brought her a cup and sat on the edge of the bed as she sleepily took her first sip.
    His attention traveled to the handcuffs that forced her to remain on her side of the bed. He snorted. As if she would have joined him had she been free. More like she’d have dragged him by his hair to the couch.
    At some point she’d propped an extra pillow under her wrists to support the weight of the cuffs. Twisted as her arms and legs appeared, she couldn’t have slept comfortably. He’d put money on a crick in her neck. The only good thing about the pain she’d be in when he released