Her muscles became useless, as if they’d atrophied. She didn’t move, simply melted against him and enjoyed the way he took control, tilting her head back, devouring her, claiming her again.
Her arms inched around his neck and she opened even more to him. She traced the shape of his mouth with her tongue and felt the violent tremor that rocked his hard frame. Hands at the back of her thighs, he lifted her onto the desk. Shoving items out of the way, he cleared a space and lowered her onto her back, and she welcomed his heavy bulk between her open legs.
Burning up, Cyrus fumbled with the buttons on her silk blouse, careful even though he wanted to yank the edges apart and tear it off of her. He finally peeled back the material to reveal a black, lacy number that barely covered her soft skin. He popped the front clasp and her sweet breasts bounced free, forcing her to emit a slight whimper. Plump, with engorged nipples standing upright like little caramel party hats, they called to his mouth. He lowered his head and before he even touched them, she was arching her back and gripping his head, anticipating his touch.
He didn’t want to hurt her, but he could barely contain himself. He’d been deprived for so long, he devoured her breasts, having suffered without the taste of her for what seemed like eons.
Control. Rigid control. That’s how he’d kept it together the past few years. But now that she was lying beneath him and he could feel the heat between her legs, he couldn’t fathom how he’d managed for so long without storming her apartment and dragging her back here.
“Dani…”
He wet her nipple with the pull of his lips, swiping his teeth over the puckered flesh and then following up with soothing strokes of his tongue. His ears ate up every moan, every broken plea of her surrender. Sounds that could turn even the most impotent man into a Casanova.
He ran his hand down the middle of her chest and massaged her breasts, squeezing them and alternating by deliberately rubbing the dark flesh of her nipples between his finger and thumb. Each time he did she let loose a little moan and her face contorted into a pained expression.
Through his pants Cyrus could feel how hot she was. He reached between them to undo his belt, his only thought to ease the pain of the southward rush of blood. He’d already undone the buckle when he hesitated, registering during a moment of lucidity this was neither the time nor the place. When he and Dani made love again, he wanted to go slow and savor every inch of her. He wanted to bury his head between her legs and inhale her musky, feminine perfume and lick at her essence with his tongue. This rushed coupling that threatened to overwhelm them would not do.
Her ruby red lips were full and swollen, and he dived back in, kissing her hard, savagely, and taking as much as he could until he could have her beneath him in the proper setting. Her legs came up around his waist and she grinded her hips into his. The sensual motion almost wiped out his resolve, but he lifted his head from the temptation she presented and cupped her cheeks in his hands. Her eyelids fluttered open, and as he looked down at her, the dazed expression in her eyes slowly disappeared and her legs fell away.
“As much as I want to make love to you right now, I know you’re not ready,” he whispered. It was too soon, and she would regret it. Gently, he pulled her into a sitting position and noted the widening of her eyes. “You’re surprised.”
“I am.” Her voice still held the breathless huskiness of arousal.
She turned away from him, and he could see her embarrassment at her easy capitulation, but as far as he was concerned, that was the way it should be. They’d both been caught up in a tidal wave of desire and emotion.