Nightfire by Lisa Marie Rice

through his briefs, his trousers and her own silk panties. It burned, his penis hot, moving fast, moving exactly where all her nerves were so raw it was as if he’d switched on an electrical current right . . . there.
    She was on some vast ocean of pleasure, warm and honeyed and filled with joy. And then the ocean rose, lifted, became a huge wave coming at her, closer and closer, faster and faster . . .
    She gave a cry that was lost in his mouth as her body exploded in a burst of heat coming from her thighs, but spreading fast throughout her entire body, her vagina contracting sharply in uncontrollable pulses so strong and sharp they were almost, but not quite, painful and spread through her, down to her fingertips and toes.
    She’d shot way out into outer space and came floating back down slowly, in swooping motions. Everything that had been a heated rush slowed and cooled. Gravity reasserted itself, she felt the floor under her feet again. Eyes closed, she sighed.
    Amazing. Everything about that had been just amazing. The best experience of her life. As a matter of fact, nothing else had ever come even close.
    Mike lifted his mouth from hers.
    She sighed again and opened her eyes and received a shock.
    Mike did not look happy. He looked as if he were in pain.
    “I’m sorry,” he said tightly, and her happiness disappeared, just like that. Like flipping a switch.
    “You are?” Chloe whispered, appalled.
    He was sorry . Well, what was she supposed to do with that? He was sorry he kissed her, made her climax? It had been the happiest experience of her life and he was sorry?
    Oh my God. What had she done wrong? Had she misread the situation? But—but he’d been the one to initiate the kiss. Had she responded . . . badly? Inappropriately? Too strongly?
    How horrible, because it was one of the few times in her life when she didn’t overthink the situation. She didn’t even think at all. Her head hadn’t been involved in any way. Pure instinct had taken over, something that rarely happened to her. Never, actually.
    Well, she already knew her instincts were off, didn’t she?
    Even more horrible, there was nowhere she could go with her embarrassment. Her back was to the wall, literally, and Mike was plastered against the entire front of her body. She couldn’t move an inch. At least she could lower her eyes . . .
    A strong, rough hand cupped her chin and forced her head up. Mike was looking puzzled. “You’re not sorry? I took it from zero to a hundred in a second.”
    “Sorry? How could I be sorry?” she blurted. “That’s never happened to me before. It was wonderful.”
    Mike blinked, astonished.
    Chloe knew perfectly well that was not the kind of thing a full-grown woman should say to an adult male. She didn’t date much—actually, she didn’t date at all—but she read and she listened to her few friends and it was de rigueur after the age of eighteen to be experienced.
    But Chloe had never really learned how to dissemble. She had no knack for it at all. The words had simply popped out of her mouth and it was too late to retract them. Too late to pull some kind of sophisticated comeback to cover her dismay.
    Well, you got me off nicely, thank you. Good orgasm, definitely an A, maybe an A + . We should do that again sometime, when we’re in the mood.
    Mike said, his voice rough, eyes locked on her mouth. “Jesus. If you’re not sorry, if I don’t have to apologize, then I’m really not sorry. As a matter of fact, if we don’t go now I’m going to do that again, very soon. Only we’d both be naked.” He lifted his eyes to hers. “But we have all the time in the world for that, don’t we?”
    Even more than the raw almost-sex against the wall, his expression now was the sexiest she’d ever seen. This handsome, incredibly male man was entirely focused on her and sex was most definitely on his mind.
    He was utterly aroused, and she didn’t need the huge column of his penis against her