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She wanted it with a force threatening to drive her insane as she suddenly found herself free of him, standing against the wall, staring back at him in shock. His hair was loose and flowing along his shoulders. Had she done that? Slipped the leather strap free of his hair?
She must have. It was tangled in her fingers, the warm leather gripped in her hand as she stared back at him, drawing in deep, ragged breaths.
He was no less affected. His eyes blazed with need.
No man had ever burned for her like this. Mikayla had never inspired great passion until now.
And God help her, if she didn't have more of it, then she just might do something she rarely did.
She was going to cry.
"How much do you want, good girl?" His fingers slipped just beneath the edge of her panties, feathering over the swollen, curl-laden flesh that dampened further at the feel of his touch.
"How much?" How much did she want? She wanted everything. All of it. She wanted to forget why she was supposed to protest, and take everything she could get.
"A little?" He breathed a kiss over her lips as his finger feathered against the curls 61
with the lightest caress. "Or a lot?" His finger slipped past the curls of her swollen sex and slid gently between them.
Her lips parted on a gasp of shock, of exquisite pleasure.
"So which do you want, good girl?"
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Chapter 6
Nik wanted it all.
Staring into Mikayla's exceptional violet gaze, he watched the slumberous sensuality take over as his finger rubbed against the snug entrance of her slick, heated pussy.
He wanted nothing more than to slip his finger inside her, to feel the tight grip of intimate flesh, the ripple of pleasure as it raced through the velvety flesh. Instead, he only caressed the clenched entrance. He only touched her gently, easily.
"You should wax here," he suggested, watching her eyes flare again, watching the mingled shock and hunger as it raced through her. "You would feel the lightest breath of a touch then. Your sweet, sensitive flesh would be bare for me, Mikayla. No matter the touch of my fingers, my lips, my cock. You'd feel it as though each nerve ending were naked to my touch."
The sweet, heated flow of her juices trickled against his fingertips, slickening them further as a little gasp of breath parted her lips.
"Please." The little plea was a rasp of sound from her throat.
"Please what, sweet baby?" He brushed his lips against hers.
"Please, don't do this to me."
He stared down at her, seeing the confusion, the pleasure, in her gaze, and he knew in that heartbeat that it had taken everything inside her to make that plea. He heard the words, just as he felt the response in her slender, fragile body. She was arching to him, reaching for him, her body shuddering as it fought for orgasm, even as she whispered the plea that he let her go.
He could give it to her. Just a little. With nothing more than his fingers he could bring her to climax, showing her what she was attempting to deny. That would be cheating, he thought. He wanted her begging for what he could give her, tortured with the need to know what waited on the other side. Not knowing, imagining, wondering what she had pulled away from could in ways be more powerful than knowing.
His finger slid from the clenched opening, slipped upward, circled her straining clit, then pulled away.
He wasn't finished with her, not by a long shot. As she stared up at him, that beautiful gaze sinking into his soul, he brought his fingers to his lips and let himself taste her.
The taste of her exploded against his tongue like liquid sunshine. Fresh, vibrant, a hint of sweetness and spice that he knew he could so easily become addicted to. Her eyes widened as she watched, her lips parting. Swollen cherry red lips. He could easily imagine them parted, those eyes staring up at him as he let himself fuck the sweet recess of her mouth.
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His balls tightened at the thought. She was so innocent, she would be hesitant. He would be her first taste of true passion, and he'd ensure she knew every ounce of pleasure possible.
"A little then?" He kept his voice quiet, the rasp of his nearly broken voice more of a growl.
