In His Keeping (Slow Burn #2)

She pressed inward with her thumb, finding the plump vein that ran the length on the underside of his erection, and traced a path upward, surprised when moisture suddenly welled and beaded at the tip, slipping onto the tips of her fingers like silk.

Her hand left him and she lifted her index finger to her mouth, wanting to know what he tasted like. Beau let out a groan that sounded as though he was experiencing extreme pain, and yet when she looked into his eyes, they burned fiercely with pleasure and desire.

He looked like he was about to eat her up and devour her whole and she wanted it all and she wanted it now. She was simmering with impatience, wanting to experience everything she’d read about but had never gained firsthand knowledge of. This was like . . . a fantasy, a scene from the sexiest book, only it was real. And it was happening to her!

Sending him what she hoped was a sultry look of invitation, she slowly reclined back and stretched her arms over her head in a symbol of submission, hoping it would drive him as wild as he was driving her.

His eyes glittered dangerously, raking over her body like a blowtorch. Immense satisfaction marked his features at her acquiescence, her obedience to his demand that she lie back and allow him to do as he wanted.

He crawled slowly and deliberately onto the bed, over her, straddling her body with his own. When he’d slid to just below her waist, he dug his knees into the mattress and sat upward so he looked down on her, his beautiful, muscled body like a work of art draped over her skin.

He skimmed a hand over the bandage on her side, frowning slightly as he examined it. She was determined that he not change his mind and decide she was too “injured” for sex so she arched upward, deliberately drawing his attention to her breasts instead.

It worked because his gaze immediately smoldered and his hand moved from her side and over her breast. He added his other hand to the other side and pushed them toward one another before leaning down and running his tongue in a swirling motion around one nipple and then the other until they were rigid, straining peaks, begging for attention. His mouth. His lips. His tongue. She wanted him to suck, wanted to feel the delicious tug that she instinctively knew would blow her mind.

As if reading her thoughts or perhaps his restraint was wearing down, he tugged one puckered ridge between his teeth, gently grazing the ultrasensitive nub and then sucking the entire areola into his mouth.

She emitted a strangled cry, arching up, her hands flying to his head, holding him firmly against her so she didn’t lose the exquisite suction. A growl rumbled through his throat, almost a purr of pleasure that gave her delicious satisfaction.

Her fingers dug through his hair, reveling in the sensation of so much skin-to-skin contact. Her senses were ablaze, consumed by fire. His fire.

He very quickly discovered her pleasure points, knew just how to make her insane with the need for release. He discovered places she hadn’t realized were erogenous zones as he conducted a very thorough head-to-toe perusal with his hands, his mouth and his tongue. God, his tongue.

She was mindless, boneless, helplessly sliding further and further into sweet oblivion. So many times she’d thought she’d simply break apart and float away and yet he always seemed to know the exact moment to pull her back, preventing that free fall into space.

She was ready to scream, to beg him to give her relief from the ever-increasing tension, boiling, simmering, stoking and fanning until she was a seething cauldron of ecstasy. Just as she reached her breaking point and parted her lips, trying to draw in enough oxygen to voice her plea, he raised his head from his sensual exploration of her throbbing clitoris, dug his fingers into her hips, roughly nudging her thighs apart with a knee and thrust into her with one forceful lunge.

Her lungs caught fire as pain burned through her swollen passageway. Beau froze, his entire body going rigid as he stared down at her in shock. Her eyes were wide as she stared helplessly up at him as she processed the bombardment of conflicting sensations snaking through her body.

She didn’t know how he managed it, but he leaned down, so carefully and tenderly, and leaned his sweat-beaded brow against her forehead.

“Ari. Honey. Why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered.

“I didn’t know,” she whispered back, shock still reverberating through her body and mind.

His lips curved into a half smile. “You didn’t know you were a virgin?”

Her hands wouldn’t remain still. They glided up and down his arms and up the slope of his neck, her enjoying every bulge of muscle, each hard ridge.

“That’s not what I mean,” she said, giving her head a small shake.

He groaned. “I need you to be still, honey. I’m trying very hard to rein myself in, but if you keep that up, I’m not going to be able to hold back.”