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He would explode, but he would accept it.
“Then I won’t,” he promised her. “Whatever you want, Sarah.”
She was scared. He could see it in her eyes. Scared, but she wanted him, wanted him just as much as he needed her.
“Just us?” She asked the question almost fearfully. “Just me and you, Brock?”
Gossip was the spice of life. Had she heard the gossip, the truth of what he was?
“Just us, Sarah.” He lowered his head until his lips could brush her temple as his hand smoothed up her bare arm.
He heard her breath catch, felt her body melt against him. He clasped her other hand in his as he moved back. He drew her into the house, then up the stairs to his room. The barbeque was in full swing outside. Laughter and music drifted into the house, though it seemed distant, unreal. The only reality for Brock was Sarah as she followed him up the stairs, down the hall and into the room he had prepared for her.
Tall, thick candles graced the walnut dresser and bedside tables. Their soft light spilled over her, creating a soft glow on her creamy skin. She trembled, a blush stealing over her cheeks as she glimpsed the bed, turned down and inviting.
“Sarah,” he whispered her name as she halted in the middle of the floor. “I promise. Only what you want.”
She followed him, her steps careful as he moved her to the bed.
“I’ve never—” Her voice shook.
“And you don’t have to now.” His cock was raging at him; his heart was breaking for her. “I just want to hold you, kiss you.”
He needed her like sunlight. God help him, she brought light to his soul when nothing else had in years. He would do anything for her, kill to have her. But he didn’t think he could survive another night without holding her.
He stopped by the bed, pulling her against his body, unable to wait another minute before he touched her. His lips covered hers, catching the breathy little moan that escaped as one hand clenched in her soft hair.
Her hands were on his shoulders, her soft belly pressing against his cock, and Brock knew he was on the edge of his control. He pressed his tongue to her lips, sinking into the dark velvet of her mouth as she shuddered against him. Her nails bit into his shoulders, her tongue tangled timidly with his, drawing him deeper in the maelstrom of pleasure that touching her evoked.
Moving slowly, his lips still covering hers, Brock lowered her to the bed. He wanted her until he couldn’t breathe. Her skin was soft, her moans heady as he pulled his shirt from his shoulders, tossing it to the floor. Her cry was mingled with shock and pleasure as he lowered the bodice of her dress, pressing the hard points of her nipples into the muscles of his chest.
His lips were at her neck, nibbling, licking the fragrant skin as she trembled and gasped in his arms.
“I could eat you up,” he growled, kissing a soft line to the rising mounds that tempted him. “Like candy, Sarah. Like a man starved for the taste of you. Just you.”
A fever of need burned inside him. Lust had never been like this. It had never stolen his control, had never wiped the pain of his memories from his mind. It had never sent his heart beating so fast it shuddered through his body. It had never made him tremble from his hunger.
His lips reached her nipples and for a moment, he could do nothing but stare at the perfection he was ready to devour. The tips were hard, dark pink, the perfect mounds swollen and flushed as they rose and fell sharply from her agitated breathing. Watching the hard little points carefully, his tongue distended and swiped over the delicate bud experimentally.
He felt the muscles of her stomach clench beneath his hand, her hips bucking sharply.
“Brock?” There was fear and desire in her voice. A husky little moan of pleasure that frayed the last threads of his determination to go slow.
His head lowered, his mouth covering her nipple as his hands worked her dress from her hips. She arched to him, her hands locking in his hair as he began to suckle the engorged nipple. She was chanting his name and he was drowning in it. God help him, she was so hot, so soft and sweet he could barely breathe for it.
He let his tongue rasp her nipple as he sucked at it. He pushed the dress from her hips, down her legs, surprise flaring in him as she kicked the material free with an impatient move of her legs.
His hand smoothed up her thigh and she stilled. Opening his eyes, he moved with greedy hunger to her other breast, his gaze locking with hers. Her golden brown eyes were wide, dazed as she watched him. His hand neared the humid heat emanating from her cloth-covered cunt as his tongue licked her unattended nipple in slow strokes, his eyes never leaving hers.
Her head jerked, her eyes darkened. His hand covered the hot mound of her cunt and she cried out brokenly. The sound went straight to his cock. Lifting his hand from between her legs, Brock quickly worked his pants open. Careful to keep her pleasure building, he nibbled at the hardened tip of her breast as he worked his pants and underwear from his body.
He was so hard he wanted to scream from the agony. When he was finally free, finally naked, his hand went back to her thighs, his fingers running over the damp silk of her panties. She jerked in his arms, twisting against him now as her own hunger began to reach a fever pitch. Her eyes closed, and Brock couldn’t help but watch her. Watch her cheeks flushing, her lips opening in a strangled gasp of pleasure as he moved the crotch of her panties aside, his fingers sliding into slick, damp honey.
“Sarah.” Brock panted her name as he lifted his head from her breast.
He couldn’t control his desire. His need to touch her. He had to have her. He had to taste the sweet honey of her or go crazy from it. He planted soft, sweeping kisses across her chest, her neck, back to her lips. She was hungry for him, her lips opened, her hands tightened in his hair as her hips arched to his fingers.
“So sweet,” he growled against her lips, then stroked them as his fingers slid into the wet velvet crease between her thighs.
