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She tore at the metal button, then eased the zipper over the hard, throbbing length of his cock. She moved it down slowly, working it over the stiff ridge as a hard growl passed his lips.
He wanted her naughty? She wasn’t naughty; she was starving for him. Five years of pent-up hunger blazed through her, erupting from a well of need that she’d had no idea existed within her.
Those distant memories from five years before didn’t compare to this. The feel of his body, so large and broad, hard and muscular, bending to her, almost protectively. His lips on her neck, teeth rasping. His hands working her jeans over her hips as hunger seemed to permeate the air.
Chaya could feel perspiration gathering on her body, the heat building inside them, flowing around them, as she pushed at his jeans, frantic to get to the heated flesh of his cock.
“There you go, sweetheart; burn for me,” he growled as his hands slid around to her rear, clenched, then lifted.
He raised her along his body, dragging her from her goal as a protesting cry fell from her lips. A second later, she felt the cool top of the low counter, heard a chair falling to the floor as he kicked it out of the way, and then Natches was kissing her again.
She couldn’t get enough of his kisses, or his touches. She couldn’t kiss back enough, couldn’t touch enough. She was consumed, inside and out, by a need so fiery she didn’t have a hope of controlling it.
“Here, get these off. ” He pulled away from her, despite her attempts to draw him back and the mewling sound that fell from her lips.
His hair was tangled, mussed from her fingers and framing his roguish face. Dark eroticism sharpened his features, his eyes. His bare chest was sheened with sweat, the hair prickling her fingers as she ran her hands down it.
She ached for him now. Ached with a power that had her arching as she fought to breathe, as he pulled the boots from her feet and tugged her jeans down her legs.
She was naked but for the bra and panties. Scraps of material that did nothing to shield her from his eyes. And he was looking. His gaze went over her slowly as his hands smoothed up her legs, her inner thighs, parting them as he centered on the wet core of her body.
“You still shave?” He ran the backs of his fingers over the damp cotton that shielded the swollen folds of her sex.
Chaya swallowed tightly. “Wax. ”
Pleasure and anticipation tightened his features, and the look caused her womb to clench in response. He was aroused, dangerously aroused. She could see it in his face, feel it in his body.
“Five years. ” His voice was guttural. “I’ve dreamed about that one night, Chay, for five fucking years. Tormented by it. Driven fucking crazy by it. ”
Her lips parted at the intensity behind the words. To be wanted like that. She had never been wanted so desperately by a man as Natches wanted her. And only once—five years before—had she felt this kind of desire for a man.
Five years. Too long. Too many memories, too many dreams and fantasies to fuel this hunger.
“I—I ached. Every day. ” The words came from her, unbidden, the strain from the attempt to hold them back causing a sob to pass her throat. “Natches—you’re going to destroy me. ”
His fingers hooked in the band of her panties, and he drew them slowly over her hips with the soft command “Lift. ”
She arched her hips, watching his eyes, his face, watching the hunger grow in him and feeling it grow in her.
He dropped the scrap of material to the floor, a grimace contorting his features as he forced his gaze from the glistening flesh between her thighs and stared back at her.
Chaya felt caught, trapped, and it terrified her. The power this man held over her. How was she supposed to fight this? Control this?
“Now for this. ” His fingers moved to the front clasp of her bra.
Chaya’s breath caught in her throat as he flicked the tiny clasp open, then peeled the cups back from her breasts and pushed the straps over her shoulders. Her fingers dug into the countertop as she leaned back at the urging of his hands against her shoulders.
“So pretty. ” His hands framed the swollen mounds, his fingers dark against her lighter flesh as he lifted them, caressed them.
Calloused fingertips stroked over the hardened nipples. Her womb convulsed, and she felt the damp warmth of her juices spilling from her.
“Natches. ” She arched to him, distant memories of him bending to her, taking her nipple in his mouth, flashing through her mind a second before his actions followed her memories.
And the reality was better. She arched and cried out at the feel of his mouth, hot and hungry, devouring her nipple. His tongue lashed at it, rasped over it as he suckled, sending exquisite sparks of pure sensation exploding through her system.
“Oh God, Natches. ” Her head fell back as she felt her arms weakening.
As though he knew, sensed her inability to hold herself up to him, one arm curved around her back, tightened, and allowed her hands to lift from the counter as he lowered her, her arms curling around his shoulders, her nails digging into his flesh.
