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'Kiss me,' she rasped.
He spun her round so quickly that her head whirled madly, though it whirled further when his mouth clamped hungrily over hers, when his tongue drove between her softly parted lips so deep that she almost choked. But then his tongue suddenly retreated, and her own followed, diving as boldly into his mouth as his had in hers. The erotic exchange went on for long tempestuous moments till at last he broke away, breathing hard as he glared down into her wildly flushed face.
'I must be crazy,' he grated out. 'But suddenly, I don't care. I want you, god-dammit, and I'm going to have you. I take it there's no objection?' he taunted, bending to scoop her up into his arms.
She stared up at him with wide eyes and he laughed. 'Don't say later you didn't have the chance to say no,' he growled.
She didn't say no. She didn't say anything as he carried her into her bedroom, even when he dumped her unceremoniously into the middle of the bed. If it had been any other man, she would have fought him, would have kicked out at him with deadly accuracy, felling him with one blow.
But this was Byron, the man she loved, the man she had always loved.
Oh, yes, she hated him too, but there was no room in her for hate tonight, not while her body was aflame with a fire it hadn't known in so long. Only Byron could quench that fire, she knew. And so she reached for him,
twining her arms around his neck and drawing him down towards her with a tortured moan of sensuous surrender.
'Oh, my darling,' she whispered, with far too much emotion.
She felt his instinctive retreat, felt him fight the same futile fight that they'd both been fighting all day, and then he collapsed upon her, devouring her in an orgy of kissing and touching that might have frightened any other woman.
But Byron's passion had never frightened Celeste. It drove her wild, her hands running over him in the same frantic fashion as his were on her. Her flesh, however, was more accessible than his with what she was wearing, and soon the satin was bunched up over her hips and he was stroking bare thighs and buttocks, tangling his fingers in the damp curls between her legs, caressing the valley they guarded so ineffectually.
'Like silk,' he murmured while she bit her bottom lip in an effort to stop her moans. 'Or is it honey?'
Celeste gasped a feeble protest when he slid down her body and started to feed on that honey. But any resistance was token. She could still recall what it had felt like the first time Byron had done this to her, how her embarrassed shock had quickly changed to an avid willingness to have him do it as often as he liked. Once she'd even let him do it to her while she was sitting on his desk. There was nothing like it.
There was still nothing like it, her senses spinning out as his lips and tongue moved over her. Desire flared wildly, then exploded.
'Oh, God,' she cried out, her back arching from the bed under a series of sharp, electric spasms.
The intensity of her pleasure, however, was mingled with dismay. She had not wanted it like this. She had wanted Byron inside her, had wanted to hold him close and pretend that he loved her. Instead, he seemed almost removed from her, his only touch a brutal grip on her thighs as he held her open for his rapacious mouth.
Oh, why didn't he stop? she groaned silently. It was over. Surely he could tell it was over!
But he didn't stop. He went on and on and, amazingly, it wasn't over. The build-up returned, more excruciating than ever, her sensitivity seemingly having moved up on to a higher plateau.
Her blood grew hotter, her head lighter, her nerve-endings, more stretched. There was another shattering release, and this time, there was no ebbing of desire. She wanted more. And more. Suddenly, Celeste began to worry he might go on like this forever. And for all its heady delights, it would not be enough, not till he came to her properly. Only that would truly satisfy her. Only that ...
Tortured words came from her mouth as she struggled to express what she yearned, even as her body betrayed her a third time.
'No more ... please ... no more .. .'
His laughter was demonic as he lifted himself from her and stood to stare down at her body, spread-eagled in utter abandonment for his desire-filled gaze.
'I haven't got what I want yet, Celeste,' he growled, stripping his sweater over his head to reveal a bare chest underneath, a very male chest with broad shoulders and rippling muscles and a smattering of dark curls across the centre. 'I was just getting you in the right frame of mind.'
