Van Holtz braced his legs apart and waited. She had the feeling he was letting her make the first move, which she appreciated since she was still evaluating.

Irene stared intently at his penis, analyzing it. It was abnormally big, in her opinion. But not unmanageable. She simply needed to find the best approach.

“You’re thinking too much, doc. You’re not splitting the atom. It’s just my cock.”

“Yes. But even I will admit it’s quite formidable. I only want to ensure the highest level of enjoyment.”

He gave her a slow, easy grin and his eyes seemed to warm while he watched her. “The fact that you care enough to care at all ensures my highest level of enjoyment.”

Irene smiled back, finding it easier to do each time she bothered, and then looked back at Van Holtz’s . . . well . . . cock. Because, to be honest, “penis” simply wasn’t doing it any justice.

Giving a mental shrug, Irene leaned forward, swiping her tongue across the head of his cock. His entire body jerked and Irene gave a little hum of surprise. She didn’t expect his response to be so . . . intense. Her confidence boosted a bit, Irene brought her hands up, smoothing them against the insides of his thighs, her fingers teasing the scar left behind from the knife she’d impaled him with, while she dragged her tongue from base to tip.

Van moaned, his eyes closed, and braced his feet farther apart. His fingers dug deep into her hair, silently urging her on. And, with another mental shrug, Irene wrapped her mouth around the tip and swallowed him whole.

She took him to the root on her first pass and Van let out a shuddering laugh. She pulled back, sucking hard while the tip of her tongue swirled around the head, before swallowing him again. Van let out another moan, this one loud and long. Talk about encouragement. Irene swallowed him again and she could feel him in the back of her throat.

“God, Irene,” he gasped out. “You learned this from a book?”

Uh . . . actually, she hadn’t really thought about the book since she’d started. She’d been too busy thinking about him. So, at the moment, she ran purely on instinct.

Which seemed to be quite effective.

Sliding her hands up his thighs, she took hold of his balls. She squeezed while she sucked and the hands in her hair gripped the strands tighter.

Irene continued to deep-throat him on every pass until Van tugged on her hair, forcing her to look up at him without releasing his cock.

“Stop, baby,” he panted desperately. “I’m about to come.”

Frowning, Irene debated whether to release him. For some ungodly reason, she wanted to see this through. All the way through.

“Irene?” One hand released her hair and touched her cheek. She pushed it away and deep-throated him again.

Van shook his head, staring at her in shock.“Jesus, Irene . . .”

She squeezed his balls again and sucked hard. He shouted a curse seconds before he exploded in her mouth. Irene swallowed, continuing to suck until he begged her to stop.

She did, pulling back slowly.

Van’s head fell back against the door, appearing exhausted, and Irene looked up at him, curious. “Did that work for you?”

His eyes snapped open and he stared down at her, still panting. “Huh?”

“I asked if that—”

“Shut up, Irene.” He closed his eyes and gave a short laugh. “Just . . . shut up.”

Normally she’d be quite insulted someone had told her to shut up, but for some reason, she wasn’t. Maybe because he looked so . . . satisfied.

“Fine. I’ll assume from your abrupt response and the panting that it worked.”

One eye opened and he glared down at her. When he growled, she tried to move away, but he grabbed her shoulders and dragged her to her feet. He kissed her hard, one hand gripping her breast while the other gripped her ass and pulled her tight against his body. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him back. He didn’t seem put off by tasting himself on her tongue, which was good because that would have insulted her.

Van walked her back until the backs of her knees hit the bed, then he tossed her onto the mattress. She bounced once before he crawled on top of her. Pushing his knee between her thighs, pinning her arms over her head with one hand and playing with her breast with the other, and the entire time he kept kissing her.

“You do know, Dr. Conridge, that you’re not getting out of this bed anytime soon?”

“Oh. Well . . .”

“If you’re going to drive a man crazy,” he warned while alternately sucking on her breasts and sliding his fingers deep inside her, “you’ll just have to pay for it.”

And she had absolutely no argument for that.

Eight

Irene woke up and found Niles Van Holtz wrapped around her like a python. He had his head buried between her breasts, his arms around her waist, his legs entangled with hers. They rested on their sides, so she didn’t have to take his full weight. Still, she had no idea what to do with the man. Did she grab his shoulders and shove? Hmmmm. That seemed a tad cold. And a bit reckless. With her luck he’d slam his head on something and die of an aneurysm. She could tap him lightly on the shoulder and tell him to move, but he didn’t wake up easily. She’d probably be better off hitting him repeatedly. Wait. No. Hitting him would also be considered rude.

Sighing, she relaxed back against the pillows. Perhaps she should simply wait until he woke on his own. A man his size was most likely ruled by his hunger. He’d need to feed soon.