“No.” He held her dark gaze, marveled at the feel of her between his hands, supple, warm, strong in a quintessentially female way, marveled at what she made him feel. “I don’t want to talk, not even about James…at least, not yet.”
His voice was low, rough, gravelly with the promise of passion.
Her lips curved as he bent his head. “Good.”
Then she kissed him. And he kissed her.
For one long moment, they wrestled for sensual supremacy, then, with a soft sigh he felt to his bones, she gave way, willingly ceded him the right to script their play.
As she had last night.
It was that, that willing, not surrender but trust, that struck him, that provoked such a primitive response in him, that spurred him to take all she offered, consume, want, and demand more.
Having her could easily become an addiction.
As he closed his hand about one sumptuous breast and kneaded possessively, and felt her flaring response—a response she was helpless not to make, but one she brazenly made no attempt to deny—he felt the talons of his need sink deeper and knew he was already lost.
No sense in trying to fight it, not her or the powerful surge of feeling she evoked in him.
He surrendered, too, simply gave himself up to the passion that rose so readily between them. They stood by the window and swiftly yet unhurriedly shed their clothes. Naked, they stood locked in each other’s arms, lips tempting, tongues enticing, mouths melding only to part on a sigh, skins heating, brushing, hands touching, exploring, explicitly caressing.
She possessed none of the hesitancy, the modesty of a woman new to this game; it was her confidence, her assurance in going forward, in facing the challenge of intimacy and embracing it with such unshakable will that had cloaked her inexperience. Even now, he sensed her as a true physical partner, one who would consent to be led, but who, if he relinquished contr
ol to her, was strong enough to lead, too…
The notion taunted, teased. Last night, driven by primal impulses he didn’t wish to examine too closely, he’d held her beneath him, captured in the cushions, and filled her, ridden her to ecstacy three times. She’d sobbed, moaned, in the end screamed her surrender, yet she hadn’t been vanquished; it had felt more as if he had, as if in drinking her screams, in taking her so possessively, he’d acknowledged her as his queen—she who could command him.
Now she met him, matched him, and urged him on. Used her body to flagrantly, blatantly incite him.
He couldn’t think, just reacted. Did what felt right, what would appease him, and her.
Grasping her waist, he turned her around so she was facing away from him; he drew her back, hard, against him, felt her stretch, then mold her back to his front, arms gracefully reaching down and back, long slender fingers splaying over the tight muscles of his thighs and gripping, then sliding to caress. Boldly she used the swell of her hips to press against, then brush his loins, used her lush bottom to caress his erection.
She was tall enough; locking one arm about her waist, closing his other hand about her hip, he hosited her hips up against his, heard her breath catch as the broad head of his erection slipped between her thighs. Almost instantly he found her entrance, already damp, welcoming. He pressed in, easing her down, back, inch by inch filling her. The scalding heat of her slick sheath closed powerfully around him; head bowing beside hers, he couldn’t hold back a growl of pleasure.
An answering ripple of delight coursed up her spine; she arched against him, lightly panting. He drew her down the last inch, embedding himself in her body. Her toes touched the ground.
She immediately tried to wriggle against him, to experiment; he caught his breath and locked his arm about her, hand splaying over her stomach to angle her hips to him, his other hand clamped tight, anchoring her, holding her immobile as he withdrew a little way, then more powerfully forged in.
Clarice lost her breath on a shuddering sigh. Head tipping back, eyes closed, she savored the heated strength of him surrounding her, as he held her body just so, and filled her, slowly, repetitively, until she thought she would scream with frustration. But she’d learned enough last night to know he knew what he was doing, that his way would ultimately bring her pleasure beyond anything she, in her innocence, could imagine. So she acquiesced and let herself follow rather than vie for the lead; she rode the sensual wave he created, let it sweep her up, rise through her, and build.
Constantly higher, further. Deeper, only gradually faster.
Until heat raced through them, flamed beneath their skins, until a furnace burned within them, and still the coiling wave rose. With every sure thrust, every shift of his thighs against the backs of hers, with each penetration, every rocking invasion of his body into hers.
His hand left her hip, rose, and closed over one breast. Hard. Kneading possessively, the action of his hard palm and strong fingers diverting her attention, then his fingers found her nipple, and rolled it. Drew on it, tauntingly stroked, then he closed his fingers and squeezed.
Just as he thrust even deeper into her.
Sensation bright as lightning lanced through her. She gasped, the sound sharp, echoing through the quiet room. She suddenly became aware of their breathing, hers ragged and thready, his harsh by her ear. He dipped his head; his lips traced the sensitive side of her throat.
Then his fingers closed again, tight, tighter; he squeezed in time with the flexing of his hips, with the rhythm of his more intimate possession. The hand splayed over her stomach tightened, lifting her half an inch, angling her hips a fraction more. He thrust deeper, harder, deeper still.
Her senses fractured.
Like spun glass, they shattered; sharp sensations rushed down her nerves, leaving each one raw, abraded, aching, and open. Her skin burned, sensitive beyond measure; her whole body came alive to every touch, every brush, every deep thrust. Each sensation became a spur, sharp, crystalline in clarity, disjointed pieces of a kaleidoscopic whole that whirled higher, faster, coiling ever tighter, until she flew apart.
Until completion claimed her, fragmented her reality and let ecstasy pour in. Her body convulsed, clenching tight for one long moment, then release swept her just as he joined her, as he stiffened behind her, and filled her one last time.