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His lips settled against her intimate folds and delivered a series of heated kisses. Fierce and heated, his tongue took quick, intimate swipes against the saturated flesh, her juices lying thick and slick upon her flesh.
Greedy, hungry kisses. Suckling, a heavy male groan rasped from his throat as his tongue swiped against her entrance.
Caressing hands stroked her inner thighs, then behind her knees. Lifting her legs, pushing them back, he opened her further to him, revealing the feminine flesh hidden between the folds and allowing his lips and tongue free rein.
In one hard, striking thrust his tongue sank inside the snug muscles of her cunt, flickering there, licking, drawing more of her moisture free to his carnal kiss.
Wild, wicked waves of pleasure crashed over her senses. Drowning, immersed in the electric pleasure whipping over her, Lyrica fought for something to hold on to. Her fists clenched in the blankets. Straining against the pleasure, desperate to fly over the sharp edge, she felt suspended upon the ecstasy building just beyond.
“Graham. Please. Oh god, please, I can’t bear it.” She was whimpering, desperation clawing at her body, tightening it as his caresses moved back to her clit.
His tongue circled with lashing tastes, preparing it for his lips to surround it, to suckle it inside the moist, fiery heat of his mouth.
Two fingers impaled the tightly clenched tissue of her pussy, pushing in, assaulting the tender flesh with waves of burning pleasure. Waves that rolled across, traveled through, and seared the sensitive nerve endings there before surging over her body with increasing heat.
His tongue lashed at her clit, and his mouth suckled the tender bud as his fingers found that place again.
“There!” Her strangled scream came as her feet pressed into the mattress again, her hips lifting to him then stilling, locked into place where the extremity of the sensations was at its height. “There. Oh god. Graham. Let me come. Please, please let me come.”
The caresses inside her shifted, the pressure increasing, the rubbing strokes moving faster, sensation massing, tightening, whipping around her with blinding force as the feeling of electric static intensified. It shot through her body, centered in her womb, infused the sucking heat at her clit, and threw her suddenly, powerfully, into a supernova.
As her release was tearing through her body, she was aware of him moving, quickly positioning himself between her thighs and thrusting, working the heavy width of his erection inside intimate muscles clenched tight, flexing and spasming in rapture.
The impalement pushed the pleasure higher.
The first rush of release rocked through her, then began tossing her higher, each wave of incredible pleasure throwing her from peak to peak in tumbling rolls, giving her no respite from the intensity of it.
His lips surrounded one tightened nipple with hungry demand. His hips moved, the hard length of his cock powering into her with fierce, driving strokes.
Her orgasm exploded around her again, with devastating results. Her senses disintegrated with waves of blinding ecstasy that tore past any shield she may have had against the man who caused it. Tore past, filled her, warmed her where she’d been unaware she was cold, and became a part of her.
A part of her Lyrica knew she would never be free of.
When it was over, she found herself collapsed on the bed, Graham breathing heavily as he lay over her, his heart racing against her breasts. His lips were at her neck, his muscled body as damp with perspiration as hers.
Pleasure like that should never exist, she thought with sudden, blinding knowledge. No woman should ever have her heart, body, and mind so ensnared by a man that walking away from him meant walking away from a pleasure she feared part of her would wither away without.
The whisper of his voice at her ear was nearly drowned out by the racing beat of her heart as it echoed in her ears. She felt his lips moving against her neck, felt the raging regret that filled his voice.
“I’m so sorry.” The words were a brush of sound, barely heard, so quiet that at first she thought she must have imagined the words.
“I’m so sorry.” He whispered them again as his hard body settled and relaxed against hers.
Sorry.
He was so sorry.
Because he knew he was going to break her heart?
Why else would he be sorry, but to sense, to know, that in those moments when the pleasure had been at its height that her soul had opened to him as well.
He owned all of her, and he knew it.
And he regretted it.
Because he knew when it was all over, she would just be one of his past flavors. One he’d grown tired of.
SEVENTEEN
