Rosa’s scent, the feel of her soft skin beneath his hands, her passionate response—every part of her intoxicated him. But it was the way she looked lying in his bed with her long hair wild on his pillow, her head thrown back in ecstasy, and her eyes closed, her breasts wet from his tongue and slightly abraded from his whiskers, that made time actually stop.
All his life, Drake had seen beyond the actual, then sought to capture his hyper-vision on canvas. But he’d never, not once in his entire life, seen anything as beautiful as the woman in his bed.
“Drake?” Her eyes were open again now, sparkling with so much life and heat and passion that he knew he could paint her a million times and never manage to show it all. Never even come close. “Don’t stop.” She licked her lips, and he had to taste them too. “Please, I’m—” She suddenly looked shy again as she whispered, “I’m so close.”
“Good.” He pressed his mouth to the hollow of her neck as he slipped his fingers from her wet heat to skim them over her sex instead. “Close is good.” He licked her collarbone, then lightly sank his teeth into the sweet curve of her shoulder. “I love knowing you’re nearly there. That I’ve taken you right to the edge.” He circled the wet flesh between her thighs. “Just think how it’s going to feel when you finally fall all the way over.” With his other hand, he lightly rolled her nipple against his thumb. “So much better than good you’re not going to believe it.”
Her breath was coming in hard pants now, her pupils dilated so wide her eyes were nearly black. “It already feels like that,” she said at the exact moment he found her breasts again with his tongue and teeth. “Better than anything has ever been.”
He had to lift his mouth back to hers, needed her to know that it was the same for him. But soon, he was running his free hand and his mouth back over her breasts, and then farther down, over her stomach, pressing kisses to the tops of her thighs before putting his hands on them so that he could marvel all over again at just how beautiful she was. And so aroused that even blowing lightly over her sex was almost enough to send her tumbling into climax.
Drake wanted to savor this moment, wanted to draw out every single second with her so that it never ended.
But how could he resist the need to taste her?
Only, when he finally covered her with his mouth, he needed a hell of a lot more than just a taste. He needed to devour her. Needed to plunge deep with his tongue as arousal spilled. Needed to plunge his fingers back into her to feel her clench tight around him, his name on her lips as her orgasm peaked, then ripped through her.
Something snapped in him—and dangerous was the only way to describe the way he shoved off his clothes, put on protection, and leapt back over her on the bed.
Her eyes were wide as he grabbed her wrists in his hands and pushed them over her head. Not with fear, but with an arousal that matched his own.
“Yes,” she panted, pleaded. “Take me. All of me. Don’t hold back.”
But he was already there, dropping one hand from her wrists to reach down and push one leg up and open for him, then reaching around to grip her hip in his hand. He stopped only long enough to take a mental snapshot of her aroused perfection before he thrust home.
One hard, perfect charge forward into heaven.
A gasp of pleasure sounded from her throat as she bucked against him, using his grip at her wrists and thigh for leverage to get closer, to take more of him.
“Oh God. It’s so good. You feel so good.”
Though her eyelids fluttered as bliss washed through her, she never looked away. And neither did he, unable to stand the thought of missing even one second of loving Rosa.
The sight of her flushed skin, the sexy sound of her moans of pleasure, the scent of her arousal—he’d never forget any of it. Would never be able to find anything, or anyone, to rival it. Sex had never been like this before, had never felt this intense. This mind-blowing.
This meant to be.
He crushed her mouth beneath his as he let go of her wrists so that he could pull her even tighter, while she wrapped her arms and legs around him as if she wanted him just as close. The way they fit together, inside and out, he swore she was made only for him.
“Mine.” He left her lips only long enough to tell her the one thing he now knew for sure. “You’re mine.”
He didn’t leave her breath to reply, but he didn’t need to. Not when the press of her damp skin, the passion with which she urged his kisses and his thrusting hips deeper—and the staggering pleasure that took them higher and higher before finally sending them flying out over the edge together—told him that she felt the same.
Chapter Fifteen
He’d nearly killed her with pleasure.