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“Smart-ass,” he grumbled, then groaned as she sucked the head of his shaft into her mouth. She liked the taste, but it could definitely be improved with chocolate. If she’d had more time, she would have played with his genetics. Or, at the very least, bought a bottle of chocolate sauce.
“That’s it.” His hands were under her arms and hauling her up to kneel facing him. “There’s too much thinking goin’ on in that head. Time for the expert to take over.”
“Expert, huh? That must be one of those levels you were talking about on the jet. Tell me, how am I going to make advanced level if you keep taking over? I need the practice.”
The words landed between them like a lead balloon. There would be no practice. Not for her.
“Fuck!” Striker clasped the back of her head and slammed his lips down on hers.
The kiss stole her breath along with her sanity. And then there wasn’t any space to think. Only feel.
His arms were around her, holding her tight. The heat from his skin penetrated hers, making her warm where she’d always felt cold. Firm hands brushed over sensitive skin. The scent of musk and earth filled her senses. The taste of passion made her mouth water. He kissed her until her lips felt bruised, and then he lowered her to her back on their makeshift bed. The concrete floor was hard beneath the pallet of blankets, but she didn’t care. All she cared about was the man above her.
He moved over her, touching, kissing, tasting, biting, fingers teasing her nipples while he nibbled at her throat. Her body pressed up into his. Her leg hooked over his hip. She felt herself open for him. Felt his hard length against her. Needed him inside her.
She moaned—a begging sound, filled with longing. His teeth grazed her nipple in reply. His other hand massaging her free breast.
“I need you, Striker.” She didn’t know if she whispered. She was past caring who heard them. All she cared about was wanting him. Needing him.
“Luke. Call me by my name.” And then he sucked her nipple hard.
“Luke!” It was a groan. A demand. A plea.
“That’s it, bébé. So fucking gorgeous. I could spend hours teasing these beautiful breasts of yours. Hours.”
She heard it in his voice. The pain he couldn’t hide it. The agony of knowing they didn’t have hours. She clasped his head and held him tight against her. Could he feel her heart beat? Did he know it was only for him?
She was panting now, climbing higher with every teasing, torturous touch. “I need…”
“I know what you need, bébé. I bet I could make you come just from playing with your breasts. You’re sensitive for me, aren’t you, chère?” That low drawl of his would be enough to make her climax. She didn’t even need his touch.
“Luke.” It was agreement and complaint. He drove her past desperation. She couldn’t think. Couldn’t concentrate. Couldn’t breathe.
His lips moved lower. Her legs opened for him, and her hips arched.
She felt his chuckle as he kissed her inner thigh. “Demanding little kitten. You needing petting, bébé? You gonna purr for me?”
She couldn’t answer. Couldn’t think. She just wanted. Needed. Desperately. And he didn’t make her wait. His intimate kiss was slow and languorous, taking his time as he tasted and teased her.
“Please, please, please, please…” Her fingernails pressed into his shoulders, and she knew she’d left marks. There was no stopping the primal thrill she felt at leaving her mark on the man. She wanted to brand her name on his soul. Mark him for eternity as hers. Only hers.
“Please!”
He rumbled against the little bundle of nerves, making her wail. Fingers slipped inside of her, seeking that secret spot she’d only ever heard about. And then he stroked her as he licked around her clit. She didn’t think it was possible to climb higher, but she did. She soared high on the tension of ecstasy, desperate for the snap of release only he could give her, the one that would tip her over and make her free fall.
“You gonna come for me, bébé?”
Answering was an impossibility.
“Yeah, you’re gonna explode for me.” He sucked her clit hard and everything stopped, snapped, and detonated.
She fell back to earth in amongst a meteor shower. Lights flashed around her as she fell, weightless, through space. It was a timeless falling, and she never wanted it to end. The closer to earth she came, the more she became aware of Striker’s weight covering her. His hand on her cheek was a brand. His lips against hers were slow and sensual and delicious. She clasped his waist as she fought to open her eyes. Her eyelids were so heavy, but she didn’t want to miss a second of anything at all to do with Luke Boudreaux.
His thick shaft pressed into her as she lifted her hips in welcome.
“You feel good.” His voice was a rasp. “Never felt anything this good.”
Slowly, deliberately, he entered her fully. She wrapped her legs around his hips, holding him to her the only way she could. They were trapped in one another’s gaze. The need to keep him forever was a physical thing. She could almost feel it reaching out to him, tendrils intended to bind him to her for eternity.
