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She leaned into him, her lips parting, and that was all it took for his hunger to accelerate—the tilt of her body, the taste of her mouth.
His hand tightened in her hair as he pushed his tongue between her lips and kissed her more fiercely. With one hand he lifted her to face him and she began moving against him, her hands clutching his shoulders as the pile of books slid to the floor.
Already his body felt as if it was made of iron, and the more she melted into him, the harder it got. He could feel her breasts through the fabric of his shirt, and he pulled at her buttons, parting her blouse.
Her bra was made of some kind of filmy white fabric and, gazing down at the dark outline of her nipples, he felt his head swim. Lowering his mouth, he caught one swollen tip in his mouth, feeling her arch towards him as he sucked it in.
But he wanted more of her. He wanted to taste her skin without the impediment of clothing, wanted to feel the curves and planes of her body. So he dragged the shoulders of her blouse down her arms, then her bra, baring her to his gaze.
She was staring at him, her grey eyes soft and drowsy with desire, her mussed-up blonde hair framing her beautiful face.
He breathed out unsteadily. Always with a woman there were certain steps, an understanding. This was different. It was the abandonment of his will to his senses—an irresistible pull in his blood like the gravitational draw of the moon on the ocean.
Reaching out, he let his thumbs skate lightly over her ribs, his mouth seeking the smooth skin of her neck, his tongue circling the pulse leaping at the base of her throat. Then he moved them down to her breasts, slowing the pace, taking his time, his hands gripping her waist, anchoring her to him.
Dora gasped. Her pulse was beating in her throat. Shock waves of desire were spreading out over the skin of her taut, aching body. His mouth was warm, the tongue curling over her nipple measured, firm, expert. She never wanted it to stop. Never wanted him to stop.
His hands tightened around her waist and she whimpered as he pulled her down, holding her against the thick press of his erection. Her stomach clenched. The ache that had started when his mouth had begun tugging at her breast was growing more intense, more decadent, so that she began to shake.
She had told him she wanted him. Up until now she hadn’t realised how much. She wanted to touch his skin, run her fingers over the lines of his chest, her tongue down the fine line of hair along his flat stomach.
Her hands found his waistband, began to untuck his shirt. He lifted his mouth, his dark eyes swallowing her whole as she yanked his shirt open. She kissed him fiercely once, then again, and then, dragging her lips from his, ran her tongue down the side of his neck, her pulse jumping as shivers of anticipation twitched across his skin.
And then, trembling slightly, she laid her hand against the push of his erection.
His dark eyes were trained on hers.
‘Dora, I—’
Shifting backwards, she slid between his legs to kneel in front of him. Her fingers worked the zip lower, and as she pulled him free of his trousers she heard him groan.
For a moment she held him in her hand, feeling the strength and the urgency beneath the taut silken skin, and then the desire to taste him overwhelmed her and she lowered her mouth, curling her tongue around him, drawing him into her mouth.
Charlie tensed, his body twitching, hardening fast, as Dora hitched her mouth upwards, inching forward, dipping her head back and forth.
He grew thick, then thicker still. He could feel his legs stiffening and he swallowed hard, fighting for control. With a groan, unwilling to climax too soon, he bunched up her hair and, gently lifting her head, took her mouth in a searing kiss.
Pulling her to her feet, he let his fingers find the button at her waist and, flicking it free, he slid her skirt down and hooked his hands into her panties. He drew her closer, his need for her beating feverishly in his blood as if they had no time.
And yet it felt as if they had all the time in the world...
He kissed the soft mound of her belly, then kissed a line down to where she was already hot and swollen, bringing her closer, then closer still.
He drew her panties away from her body, his breathing losing rhythm as he traced a path between the damp curls, gripping her thighs as she began to sway.
Dora breathed in sharply.
Her body was humming; she was growing dizzy. Her limbs felt light and she was losing all sense of herself. She clung to his shoulders, following the pulse of her hunger like gleaming white pebbles in the moonlight.
Around her the room seemed to be shrinking, growing smaller. Her whole being—every nerve, every cell—was centred on the tingling, insistent stroke of his tongue.
‘Charlie...’ She caught his hair, pushing him away and back onto the sofa, then reaching for him again, wanting to feel him inside her.
Her heart gave a lurch as he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a condom. Watching him smooth it onto his erection, she felt a ripple of shock. She had forgotten—would have forgotten in her haste, in her urgency.
But as his hands captured her naked body and he slid deep inside her she forgot everything. There was only the taut, steady strength of his hips as they pressed into her.
She felt herself swell, her body stiffening, pleasure rising inside her as he moved against her, filling her with heat, with a glowing heat that was growing whiter and brighter.
