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His shoes and trousers joined the sweater, followed by his briefs and socks till he stood before her, still the man she remembered. Nothing had changed. Nothing had wilted with the years.
She gave a small shuddering sigh, her eyes closing as she sat up and reefed her own clothing over her head, flinging it away before lowering herself back down on to the satin quilt, her aroused eyes fluttering open with another sigh that was the very essence of female sensuality.
Byron's eyes narrowed upon her, his fists closing and unclosing by his side. 'God, but you're a beautiful bitch,' he muttered. 'A beautiful brazen bad
bitch. But that's all right. Tonight I want you to be bad, Celeste. Nothing else will do.'
Celeste gasped when he moved abruptly on to the bed to straddle her body. For a few seconds, he knelt tall above her, dark and dangerous, but then he settled his weight across her stomach and hips, his knees sinking into the mattress as he leant forward to present himself perilously close to her face.
When he actually pressed himself against her mouth, shock sent her jerking backwards and her lips falling slightly apart. But along with the shock came a wickedly compelling excitement. She had done this for him once before, but it had been only very briefly and only as part of foreplay leading to making love. This could hardly be put in the same category. And yet ...
She licked suddenly dry lips, and Byron's gaze was riveted to the movements of her tongue as it moistened her mouth in what must have looked like a blatantly erotic tease. It was, however, the action of suddenly ambivalent emotions. She wanted to, yet she didn't want to. Maybe if she closed her eyes and pretended he still loved her. ..
'Just do it,' he urged, his hard words giving her nothing of pretence to cling to. This was dominant male demanding from submissive female, maybe even with an underlying intent to humiliate. It went against everything Celeste had vowed never to let happen to her again.
'No,' she choked out, and turned her face away to the side.
She didn't dare look up at him, a tremor of fear rippling through her at the position she realized she was in. Byron was a powerful man. With her body pinned to the bed like this, she had little hope of successfully using her martial art skills against him, not without endangering his life. And did she really want to do that?
She felt his weight tip backwards on to her pelvis, her eyes flinging open to find him sitting down on her and appearing to study the count ours of her body, first with his eyes and then with his hands. His strokes were long and sweeping at first. Down and up her sides. Down and up her arms. Then his hands turned over and he started trailing the backs of his fingertips over
her by now almost quivering flesh. When his nails trailed over a particularly sensitive spot, she couldn't help an involuntary shudder which brought a grunt of satisfaction from Byron.
Celeste found herself holding her breath when he started moving closer and closer to her breast, sucking in a sharp breath when he skimmed over her nipples. As though sensing she wanted more of this, he stopped doing it, moving his attention to her stomach which proved to have its own brand of erotic torture. Who would have dreamt that a lazy finger encircling one's navel could make all one's muscles clench inside, would make one yearn to take that finger and suck it deep into one's mouth?
But it was when he returned to her breasts in earnest that Celeste knew she was in danger of losing all control. Though only small, especially when she was lying down, her breasts seemed to have swollen to twice their normal size, her nipples almost doubling in length, stretching upwards in a type of pained supplication.
Byron was teasingly slow to oblige, her anticipation so great by the time his head bent to lick one that a violent tremor raced through her. His head lifted and a wickedly rueful smile tugged at his mouth.
'It's agony, isn't it, wanting something so much? Do you want me to do it again, Celeste? All you have to do is say so ... '
Their eyes locked and she would have died rather than say it. Byron laughed and bent to torture her some more, first one breast, then the other. Her excitement soared, bringing with it a desire to do, rather than just receive. Her hands ran restlessly over his shoulders, her head lifting to kiss the top of his head. She would have moved her lower body if she could have, but only her legs were free to move. They shifted agitatedly on the bed, her knees lifting then falling wantonly apart. Again and again she found herself licking dry lips. If only he would kiss her. If only he would fill her mouth with his. Her lips fell softly apart on a raw moan.
