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He closed and locked the door, then came toward her with heated eyes as he undressed and dropped his clothing atop hers. “How were you so sure I was coming?” he asked, removing his boxers and kicking them away to slide across the polished hardwood.
Jillian gave him a look that said “puh-leeze” as she enjoyed the sight of his sculpted nude body. His inches, darker toned than the rest of him, grew in length before her eyes, with a slight lean to the right. And led him right over to her. She was already shivering in anticipation as he wrapped one strong arm around her waist and pulled her close to bury his face against her neck.
“Humph. You just wanted to make sure Lorenzo wasn’t sniffing around,” she teased.
He stiffened and raised his head to look down at her. “Really?” he asked in his deep voice.
She gave him a soft laugh before leaning back in his embrace and drizzling some of her wine across her breasts. “Thirsty?”
He bent his knees to tongue the moisture. “And hungry,” he moaned against her soft flesh.
Jillian flushed with heat. “Cole,” she gasped as she blindly set the glass atop the counter before pressing her hands to the hard contours of his back.
When he raised her body with ease to bury his face against her cleavage, she wrapped her legs around his waist. The first feel of his crafty tongue against her nipples rushed them to hardness. He suckled one of the tight buds into his mouth and she released a sigh of pleasure from deep within as she rolled her hips.
Her entire body felt alive with their sexual chemistry. The pulse they created was not to be ignored or denied. And it had been that way over the last year without hesitation or deceleration.
Jillian clung to Cole as he carried her over to the center of the loft and the brown-leather sofa that also served as her bed when there was time to open it. There wasn’t. Passions unleashed, they needed quenching.
Cole sat on the sofa with her straddling his lap. She brushed the curls from her face as he leaned his head back and eyed her. Her face. Her breasts. Her belly. The close-shaved mound of her intimacy. He massaged her hips and upper thighs as she took his hard inches in her hand to stroke. He grunted at her touch and rocked his hips forward.
“It’s so hard,” she whispered, enjoying his wince of pleasure.
“It aches,” he admitted.
Jillian took one of his hands and pressed it down between her thighs. He cupped her. The curve of his palm pressed against her warm, pulsing bud as the tips of his fingers stroked her lips. Heat and electricity infused her. She cried out in sweet release as she rolled against his touch. Her grip on his inches tightened, evoking a wild cry of pleasure from him that gave her such immense joy.
He straightened and pressed kisses from her jawline up to her ear. “Watching you in that little red dress all night, and not being able to touch you, was pure hell, Jillian,” he rasped.
She trembled.
“All I could think of was getting it off you and me inside you,” he continued before sucking her earlobe.
She panted sharply.
“Did you have on a bra?” he asked.
She shook her head.
“I could tell.”
He leaned her upper body back and lowered his head to lick her nipple and then caress it with a cool, steady stream of air.
“Damn,” she swore with a gasp.
He switched his wicked onslaught to her other breast.
“That. Is. Amazing,” Jillian admitted as he tended to her with slow and deliberate care.
She pressed her hand to his head and leaned to the right to open the wood box atop the square glass end table to retrieve one of the dozen condoms inside. She was ready for him. Wet, throbbing and in heat.
Tearing the foil, she removed the ribbed ultrasensitive latex.
“You ready?” he asked, watching her work the protection along the length of his hard inches.
She nodded.
“I wanted to taste you the way you like,” he said, his voice thick.
