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Flames of hair swayed down her back, over her shoulders, caressing his thighs. Her hands were never still. One caressed his balls, the other clenched at his thigh, her fingertips rubbing against it ever so often. Her cheeks hollowed as she caressed the throbbing cock head in her mouth, working it with delicate greed as a moan whispered over the aching crest.
Hell, he couldn’t hold out long. He wanted to fuck her too badly. The need to spill inside her was building in his balls, burning through his body.
“Fuck,” he snarled in desperation. He didn’t want to stop. He didn’t want to lose his hold on the sight and the feel of her holding to him as his hips moved, his cock thrusting against her swollen lips.
The sensual, completely absorbed look on her face ratcheted the pleasure racing through him. He could feel his entire body tightening to the breaking point, every muscle, every cell was attuned to each draw of her mouth, each flick of her tongue, each incredible stroke of her silken fingers against his balls.
Clenching his hands tighter in her hair, he fought to hold back his release, fought to hold back the groan building in his chest.
She was killing him.
Watching her, seeing the fantasy that had haunted his life since the day he had first seen her in Aruba eight fucking years ago, was wearing away every objection he had used over the years to remain distant from her.
“Tehya,” he couldn’t hold back the groan. “Ah, God baby.”
Hell, he swore he could feel his knees weakening.
His hips jerked against her as he fought to keep his strokes shallow, to keep from hurting her. Damn, it was hard. He needed to be further inside her. He needed to be surrounded by her.
But pulling back from the sweet pleasure of her hungry mouth was impossible, not simply because she refused to release him, but because he couldn’t make himself pull back.
Her mouth tightened on his cock as he felt the blood pounding harder through the shaft. His balls were agonized, the shaft flexing, release was only seconds away.
“Tey,” he said desperately. “I’m going to come, baby. Move that sweet mouth or I’m going to fill it.”
She moaned, a hungry, greedy sound that lit a fire to a sensual fuse that exploded through him, with the power to weaken his knees and almost take him to the floor.
His hands tightened further in her hair. He had to be pulling the strands and couldn’t pull back. The surge of sensation racing through his cock, exploding through the head and spurting from it, rocked him to his soul.
He’d never come so hard. Six years of waiting, fantasizing, and his mind was exploding with his release.
And still, it wasn’t enough.
He was still hard, the pleasure tearing through him was like a narcotic, an addiction, and he wanted more.
Somehow, he found the strength to pull her head back, watching as his cock slid from her reddened lips, as those amazing green eyes opened to stare back at him in dazed pleasure as her tongue ran over her lips, the pleasure apparent in her face.
“Lie down.” He raked his eyes over the gentle lines of her body. The scattering of freckles across her nose was duplicated in a small area across the tops of her shoulders. Just the lightest hint of them beneath the skin, intriguing him, tempting him to investigate the satiny flesh.
She lay back, her breasts rising and falling quickly, her face flushed, her soft flesh sweat-dampened.
“Spread your legs.” He could barely force the words out.
Tehya stared up at him, watching the wild blue of his eyes, darker, gleaming brighter than she had ever seen them.
“Beautiful.” The sound of his voice was thicker, harsher, as he came to his knees before her spread thighs. “Do you have any idea how fucking beautiful you are?”
She shook her head. She had never seen herself as beautiful. She had never believed she was beautiful. But at this moment, she felt, at the very least, pretty in his eyes. When he stared at her as though he were starving for the taste of her, his cock thick and hard, flushed, the head dark and throbbing as he came to his knees between her thighs.
“How pretty,” he murmured, reaching out to run his fingers over the bare folds of flesh.
For a second, nerves edged at the arousal that had her dazed, almost uncomprehending.
She could see his absorption with the fact that there were no curls there, that her skin was softer, smoother than it would have been if she waxed or shaved.
Naturally bare. She had been bred to have no pubic hair. Her father had known the child he wanted, and he had chosen the perfect woman to conceive that child. And one of his requirements had been a woman whose genetics lacked the gene for pubic hair.
The thought, the memory of that past, threatened the pleasure wrapping around her.
