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"Do you own a bed?" she murmured.
He chuckled, his breath warm against her skin. "Oh, yes." He moved, freeing her then resting his arm around her shoulders, drawing her alongside him as he led her from the room.
She had to make a concentrated effort to walk slowly. Her panties were damp and her pulse raced, her nipples chaffing against the fabric of her dress as she moved.
He led her down the hallway and through a doorway. The bedroom was lit by a tall elegant lamp and housed a large bed with a wrought iron headboard formed into a frenzy of art nouveau swirls. The surface was covered in a black velvet comforter, like a void that invited her to disappear into it. She turned to him and saw the dark energy simmering in his eyes. "It's beautiful."
He gestured at the bed, one corner of his mouth lifted. "It will be, with you on it."
And with you over me. He looked so good. She could barely wait to have him inside her. Stepping out of her shoes she walked over to the bed, sat down then laid back, her arms moving across the surface.
He shook his head as he looked down at her. "The bed fades into significance. The real beauty is here." Leaning over her, he stirred the satin across her abdomen, lightly moving it with his fingertips, watching her face.
"It's a Roland Mouret dress," she murmured, barely able to speak as darts of sensation shot out from the material moving under his fingers.
He smiled, gazing into the black pool of satin. "I suspect the beauty that I am referring to lies beneath the dress."
She sank back into the bed covers, inviting him closer with a pleading glance. "I hope I don't disappoint."
Slowly, he began to push the material up from around her legs, exposing her body, caressing her skin with the waves of satin. As his fingers passed over her, from shin to thigh to hipbone to breast, they seemed to draw the breath from her body. She swallowed, reminded herself to breathe. When the material gathered on her breasts she slipped it over her head then lay back again, her hands moving restlessly in the abandoned pool of black satin above her head.
Staring down at her naked body on the bed, it was as if he had touched her, the heat in his expression was extreme. "You look like a beautiful sacrifice waiting to be offered, waiting to be tasted."
Her sex clenched, over and again. "Please don't make me wait any longer," she begged.
He bent down to lift one of her feet onto the surface of the bed, opening her legs. His hands moved along the inside of her thighs, his fingers spreading wide around her groin, sending wild flames coursing across her skin.
Glancing down, she watched his thick black hair as he kissed the inside of her thighs. Each kiss was like a beautiful torture, filled with divine sensation but she craved more than that.
"Oh please, Zac," she murmured, her body shifting, her hands clutching at the bed covers.
Chuckling, he sank his mouth onto the mound of her sex and sucked deeply at the flesh, his teeth grazing her while his tongue moved between her folds.
Arching, she let her head fall back against the pillows. When his tongue stroked over her clit, she moaned and twisted on the bed. He reached one arm up to still her, his hand between her breasts. She covered it with her own hands, squeezing her breasts around his spread fingers. His other hand shot along her thigh and down to her foot, anchoring her. As his tongue moved she breathed ever faster, rasping in time with his movements. Pleasure roared through her whole body, but still she wanted more.
Her fingers pulled at his hand, her torso moving, suggesting more to his body, suggesting more shared pleasures. He raised his head and looked at her. His eyes were black with passion, his lips dripping with her juice. She sat up and reached for the buttons on his shirt.
"No," he said, pushing her hands away. Humor lit his eyes. "You must learn to take your time, Abby." He pulled his shirt free from his leather trousers. "You're a wild creature and I intend to tame you."
She growled. "How?"
"By fucking you very, very slowly." He dropped the shirt to the floor.
Why did that sound like sheer torture? Because you're so damned horny. Just looking at his muscular shoulders, the strong column of his neck, and the bulge of his cock inside leather made her mouth go dry. Other parts of her were oozing moisture. Her attention was drawn to a tattoo on his right arm, an image that flickered with movement as he undressed. It coiled around the line of his bicep, emphasizing the shape of the muscle.
A shadowy smile passed over his face, partly hidden as he bent over her body. His breath on her skin and it was like a warm sirocco sifting the sands. "I want to be sure that your body is at its peak before I have you, and I want to find out where that peak is."
She felt sure that her peak wasn't far away at all, and she was desperate for him to take her to it and force her right over the top. Zac, however, had other ideas. She watched his bare chest, exquisitely masculine, as he moved. He reached for her, yanking her legs apart. Fluid seeped from her exposed pussy. Every ounce of her intimate flesh was on display.
"So delicious, so ready." His finger, firm and slick with her moisture, probed inside her.
She clutched and let out a loud moan of relief when he moved it, stroking the front wall of her sex. Shock waves darted through her body. His thumb rested over the hard nub of her clit and she cried out with pleasure.
He muttered something unintelligible that sounded like it might be Greek as he bent over her, his tongue lapping at her clit. He added a second finger, flexing them, moving them in small circles then scissoring her open. Sensation traveled through her as he sucked her swollen clit, gently, a stark contrast to the
hard fingers inside her.
She lost sight of the room, her body jerking spasmodically as she came, sudden and hard. In the distance she heard her own voice crying out. He pulled out. When she surfaced, she could see that he was desperately aroused, it sent an after-tremor through her sex, drenched but suddenly bereft.
