“I hate that I’ve lost that pleasure because of what they did,” she said. “I want it back.”
Instead of obeying the order, he filled his hands with her breasts once more, her nipples hard points against his palms, glorying in the escalation of her heartbeat, the jerking cadence of her breath. “Sensitive here, too, aren’t you, Honor?” Plumping her up for his delectation, he lowered his head to grip one of her nipples with his teeth, knowing the lace would rasp against her flesh, an exquisite pain.
A hotly feminine sound of frustration. “That whip of yours”—breathy words—“ever felt it on your own body?”
Releasing her nipple with a flick of his tongue, dampening the lace and increasing the friction, he looked up. “No.” He was always in control. That was who he was. But—“Maybe we could trade.”
Narrowed eyes. “I know you’re getting something over me, but I can’t figure out what.”
That was when he shifted forward to press a hot, wet kiss to the side of her neck, high up near her jaw. She froze in his arms, but he kept his mouth where it was—even as he stroked the line of her body from breast to hip, hip to breast, over and over again with one hand, spreading the other on her lower back. “Feel the wetness,” he whispered, then blew against her damp skin.
When she shivered, he licked at her. “Choose, Honor. Tell me what you like.” It was taking all of his experience to keep himself in check with this woman who destroyed him. “Tell me,” he said again, locking down his instincts to take, to possess. “You hold the reins.”
Fingers sliding over his nape and into his hair, she said, “Long, wet kisses.”
It was no hardship to indulge her—he could feast on every inch of her and start all over again within seconds. Her body remained stiff for a long time, but the fingers on his nape, they dug in a little, her pulse accelerating until his own sang with the erotic beat of it. And then she said, “Harder, Dmitri.”
He liked his name on her lips when she was half naked on top of him, her body so lush and open. He’d like it even better when he was driving his cock into her. Blowing on the skin he’d just kissed, he drank in her responding shiver before giving her what she’d asked for—long, hard kisses that left her with dark red marks on her neck—at the same time that he used one of his hands to squeeze and mold the heavy warmth of her breasts. He had every intention of marking those, too.
When he finally lifted his head from her throat, her eyes were hazy with pleasure, her body relaxed. It wasn’t a “fix,” but the experience would give her a weapon against the nightmares—he was more than willing to suck on her sweet body anytime she needed a refresher. “I want,” he murmured, “to put my mouth here.” He rocked up against her, pressing into the heated vee of her thighs. “Is that going to be a problem?”
Wide eyes, languorous with a healthy, decadent lust. “No. They—Nobody seemed interested in that. But no bites on the inner thighs. I . . . it hurt.”
Rage roared through him, so savage and brutal he had to dip his head for a second in case she saw it. But then Honor rolled her hips over him, sliding her fingers under the loose fabric of his collar to caress his back, and he was in the moment again, with a beautiful, sexy woman who had been misused and who was now his to pleasure. “Do the panties match?” he asked, tracing the scalloped edge of her bra.
“Yes.” Her chest rose and fell in a ragged rhythm. “They’re red with a black bow.”
“Witch.”
She laughed, confirming his supposition that she was teasing him again. No one had done that for an eon. “Take off this shirt, Dmitri”—a nibbling kiss on the sensitive curve of his earlobe—“or I’ll tear it to pieces.”
Hissing at the caress, he made quick work of the shirt, throwing it to the side and shoving his hands between their bodies to rid himself of his belt at the same time. His cock was a steel rod in his pants, pressing in urgent demand against the fabric—he undid the top button for relief, but resisted the urge to release his turgid flesh. If he did, this would end far too fast.
And he wanted to savor.
It had been so long.
The thought whispering out of reach before he truly heard it, he traced the strap of Honor’s bra to the cup, nudged it down to bare the swollen pout of her nipple. Leaving the lace tucked just under it, he repeated the process with her other breast. Then he leaned back and drank in the sight of her displayed for him like an erotic feast.
30
Her breath, already ragged, turned fast and shallow, her hands dropping to her thighs. Then she did something unexpected. Pushing in with her upper arms, she plumped up her breasts for him, serving up the feast. He groaned, dipped his head to suck one tightly furled nipple into his mouth while he rolled the other between his fingertips.