With a curse, he yanked off his jacket and vest, casting them aside with anxious movements. His hand went behind his neck and he pulled off his shirt in one move, sending it flying like a bird on the air. His hands gripped her thighs and she hissed at big hands on her flesh as he leaned over her, his big body fully wedged between her welcoming thighs.
Her hand drifted between them. She curled her fingers around the edge of his trousers, letting her fingers slip inside, nails lightly scoring the tight skin of his abdomen. She watched him, transfixed by the intensity of his stare. He made her feel like she was at the center of his universe, this moment—she—was everything. This castle could crumble down around them and he would still be looking at her like this.
And she would still be wanting him.
She tugged him toward her. He fell forward, his hand falling beside her head on the bed, bracing himself. She didn’t even care that she was acting the wanton.
He sucked in a breath as she slid her hand deeper inside his trousers, led by some impulse, some instinct that lived inside her. He was easy to locate. She wrapped her fingers around him. He filled her hand, overflowing. She gave his member a slight squeeze, and he pulsed, grew in her hand. A throb answered between her legs.
“Alyse,” he panted, his own hand delving between her thighs, finding the slit in her drawers to touch her, stroke her, slide along her opening. He touched that little nub nestled at her center and she cried out, arching under him. His hand set to work, fingers rubbing in fierce circles, bringing her to a frenzy. Moaning, she ran her fingers into his hair, learning the shape of his skull beneath her palm. His head lowered, his breath moist and warm on her neck and it was all too much. Overwhelming. Her release welled back up inside her again. She couldn’t stop it. She didn’t want to. She rode the wave, arching under him.
He pushed, touched, stroked.
“God. You’re so bloody responsive,” he grunted against her mouth before claiming her lips in another scorching kiss full of their mingled pants and moans.
And then, suddenly, he pushed one finger deep inside her, curling up and touching her so deeply that she shattered, crying out loudly. Wildly. Unashamed.
His hand stayed between her legs. It was like he wasn’t going to give up until he wrung out every last drop of joyful release from her.
Her hands dropped to her side to twist tightly in the bedding. She tossed her head from side to side, fighting the overwhelming sensations.
“Let go, Alyse,” he commanded. “You can do it again.”
With a choked cry, she did, breaking apart as his fingers toiled over her, not even slowing down as another wave overtook her. Her hands rolled over his shoulders, palms skating down the smoothness of his muscled back, ripples of feeling eddying throughout her.
This couldn’t be her. A creature of passion. Without shame. And yet it was. It was and she didn’t regret it.
His member bulged in his trousers, prodding rock hard against the inside of her thigh. She was acutely, achingly aware that there was much left to explore between them. The hunger was still there, pulsing and throbbing in her . . . unanswered in him.
He made a deep sound in his throat and claimed her mouth in a kiss again, his fingers cupping her face. They kissed and kissed and kissed, stoking the fire hotter between them again. She didn’t know kissing could be like this. So mind-addling. So consuming. Endless and yet not enough.
She gasped and his tongue entered her mouth, slicked over hers in total possession. She leaned in, moaning, giving as much as she took.
He muttered against her lips, pulling back to seize her gaping bodice and chemise. He yanked the material down to her waist, leaving her naked from the waist up.
Cool air wafted over her. Her hands covered her breasts self-consciously in an attempt to hide her chest from him. His fingers circled her wrists, exerting only slight pressure, but she was fully aware of his power, the strength in his big hands as he tugged her hands down.
“I want to see you,” he whispered, his night-blue eyes dark and intense, moving down her throat to her breasts. Her nipples tightened under his stare.
He eased his hands off her wrists, and this time she didn’t try to cover herself. She held still, stopping herself from covering her body up again.
She blocked out her embarrassment and focused on him, reveling in his breath-stealing beauty, the intensity of those deep-set eyes on her, the lush mouth.
She gasped at the first touch on her breast.
Her head dropped back and she moaned senselessly as he rolled both fingers over her rigid nipple. Back and forth, back and forth, he toyed with the peak, making the point harder with every swipe of his fingers.
“So beautiful,” he growled. He turned to her other breast, rolling the quickly hardening nipple.
She squeaked as he pinched her pebble-smooth nipple. She felt a rush of wetness between her legs and she squirmed under him, desperate for relief, for the ache to be filled.
He looked at her from beneath heavy lids and then ducked his head. His hot mouth closed over the tip of her breast like he was starving and she the long-denied food.
She cried out as his warm tongue laved and sucked her nipple. She grabbed the back of his head, pulling him closer, likely smothering him at her chest.
Everything in her tightened and squeezed, pleasure centering where his mouth fed on her, his tongue swirling wildly. Her core pulsed, clenching in agony.
She cried out again as he turned on her other breast, sucking hungrily, licking and nipping. Her noises were wild. Embarrassing. Especially when his teeth scraped one stiff nipple while his fingers simultaneously pinched down on the other one.
She rolled her head side to side on the bed. She felt out of control. Too wild, too removed from her own body. She inhaled a thick breath, fighting for control.
Then he was at her mouth again, kissing her. Savage kisses that she met with equal fervor. The possibility entered her mind that there would be no stopping this time.
He tunneled his hands into her hair, dragging the loosened mass.
“Please,” she whimpered, writhing against him.
He hopped off the bed. She watched as he shed his trousers until he was naked beside the bed. “Oh, my,” she breathed, allowing herself to have a good look at him. All of him. All of him. All all of him. Her face caught fire and a trickle of unease ran through her. How was that going to fit inside her? As nervous as the sight of him made her, her core throbbed, almost hurting in her need to be filled.
He was big and looming and jutting straight out and it made her intimate parts clench in anticipation.
His lips curved in a cocky smile as he returned to the bed, doubtlessly reading her mind.
He slid back in between her thighs, his own solid thighs rubbing against hers. It was shocking for a moment, the sensation of a man against her, the hair on his skin tickling hers.
His hands touched her everywhere. Touching, stroking. She was bombarded with sensation, another climax rising up inside her again from all his ministrations.
His hands slid under her, cupping her derriere, lifting her up so that his manhood prodded at her entrance. She gasped. It was really happening. This . . . him . . . them . . .
“Please,” she choked, reaching down between them, closing a trembling hand around him. Keeping a careful eye on his face, she wrapped him in her palm and pumped several times, enjoying the way the lines and firelit shadows of his face seemed to grow more stark, more torment-ridden.
His breathing grew ragged. “Enough.” He grabbed her hand and peeled it off him.
His big hands gripped her thighs, holding her, splaying her wide as he settled between her, his manhood rubbing against her where she was wet and throbbing. She moaned slightly, tilting her hips up to him.
He looked down at her, all of him tense—one hard, lean line curved over her, ready to snap.
His thumb worked small circles inside her thighs as his gravel-deep voice stroked over her. “I feel as though this were inevitable . . . I was a fool to think otherwise.”