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A firestorm of sparks raked down her body.
Everything about him was hard intent now. He put a hand on her shoulder and tipped her back to the table, onto her elbows, her body laid out like a sacrifice. He stood above her, rock hard with restraint, and raked his gaze down her. “Leannán.”
The fierce male approval lit a fire inside her. The Irish endearment rasped and guttural, meant lover, perfection in the heart.
He planted a palm on the table and bent to her body, ran his tongue up the swell of her breast, then slid away again, a hot stroke, a cruel tease. She gave a frustrated pant. Teasing soft, he licked around the outer edge of her breast, over skin so sensitive, even his breath was like touch. She arched for him, waiting to receive the touch she so wanted, the brush of his hot tongue over nipples almost painfully hard, peaked by desire.
But his mouth skimmed away again in a taunting dance, swirling around the dark nub, but never touching.
She made a sound of impatience.
He gave a low laugh, sending his breath across everything he’d just licked wet. Then, suddenly, giving her no time to adjust, he closed his mouth over her breast and sucked.
Her head whipped back and banged the table.
He did it again, only slower this time, sucked her into his mouth, and flicked his tongue across her nipple, a hard, swift swipe.
It tore the breath from her lungs. Still holding her in his mouth, he shook his head gently back and forth. The tugging pressure rolled excitement through her body. Then he scraped her nipple with his teeth, d
ark, dangerous pleasure, and more dangerous yet, his hand slid down her legs, and began tugging up her skirts.
Her entire body trembled as his fingers skimmed between her thighs. When they slicked through wetness, evidence of her desire, his head lifted, and his gaze swept to hers.
“Och, lass, that feels good.”
It was a dark, carnal compliment that should have shamed her, but it quite lit her up. She felt as if sparks covered her body, glittering bright. He turned his hand and, without pause, slid a finger up inside her.
Her head jerked back as if yanked on a string.
“Aye, like that,” he said with dark approval.
He laid claim with another slippery push, nudging in deeper, forcing her flesh to part for him. The blunt tip of his thumb skimmed through her folds, then stroked across the nub at the apex of her.
Her body bucked in helpless pleasure.
“Again,” he commanded, and did it to her again, and again, stroking her harder, for more.
“Aodh.”
The broken gasp of his name coming from her lips, ignited Aodh’s blood. No more waiting. He straightened slightly and kicked the chair away from the table so he could drop down into it.
“Lie back,” he ordered in a low voice.
Her heavy-lidded eyes parted slightly, and she made a little sound of frustration, confusion. She tried to reach for him as he dropped down into the chair and dragged her hips forward.
“Let me show you mad pleasure, Katy,” he said, a horse rasp, as he put a hand on her knee.
If she said no now…
Her eyes, passion-dark, stared at him. Then she let her knee fall to the side, letting him in.
Everything became a roar in his head, surging heat in his body, as he ran his open palm along the length of her trembling legs. His.
He skimmed his knuckles up the satin-smooth skin of her inner thigh until his fingers were inches from her womanhood. He could feel the dizzying wetness and heat.
He bent his head and touched the tip of his tongue to her.
Sweet, hot woman.
