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As he slipped inside her mouth, his tongue sliding intimately against her own, she flashed with heat. She had missed this man desperately. Not seeing him for a month after their night together had been torture. She’d been so relieved when he’d been rescued, but even over the last long weeks of his recovery, during his lowest points and surliest moods, she’d begun to ache for him again in ways she knew many would call shameful. But the need was unrelenting and inescapable. She wanted him more than the first time. More than even yesterday.
Suddenly, he lifted free, heaving hot, harsh breaths. “Fuck.”
Before she could even question why he’d stopped kissing her, he lifted her from her seat, strode to the other end of the table, then laid her across the cool, hard surface.
“I want you, pretty girl. I want to make love to you. I want to do this right.” He swallowed as he gripped her thighs, parted them, and stepped in between. “But I don’t know how much more I can stand not being inside you. It’s felt like an eternity.”
“It’s felt even longer than that.” She didn’t mean to utter her thoughts aloud, but she couldn’t help it. Having Pierce so close rattled her.
“I’ve missed you so fucking much. I need you.” He shoved her skirt up to her hips and stopped. Stared. Swallowed before he brushed his thumb up her sex, barely covered by sheer, pink silk panties. “Oh, Brea…”
Her womb clenched. Blood rushed between her legs. Moisture spilled to all the parts he caressed.
Her brain shut down.
With a whimper, she pushed her hips up to him in a desperate plea for more.
Their first night together, she’d been torn between what was right and what she’d wanted until the pleasure he’d dazzled her with silenced her misgivings. Tonight, she refused to think about anything except being close to him and feeling the ecstasy he heaped on her. Because her body burned for the satisfaction it seemed only he could give her. Because his captivity had reminded her that no one was guaranteed a tomorrow. Because she’d fallen in love with him and wanted to show him how she felt…even if she never spoke the words.
“God, I’ve missed you. You have the prettiest pussy,” he whispered thickly as he bent to her. “Swollen, juicy…”
Pierce fastened his mouth over her, teeth nipping into the pad of her sex, tongue flattening against her clit as if her panties didn’t exist. No, this still wasn’t love, but need roared through her. She gripped the edge of the table to steady herself against the electrifying desire rolling through her.
“Pierce!”
“Say yes. Say you want me. Say you can’t wait.”
She didn’t even hesitate. “Yes. I want you. Now.”
With deft fingers, he unbuttoned his dress shirt and shrugged out of it. Then, with one hand, he draped it over the back of the nearby chair. With the other, he tugged her sweater up her abdomen. “Take it off.”
Brea wanted it gone, too.
As she struggled to peel the V-neck over her head, Pierce shoved his big fingers under the elastic waistband of her underwear and yanked them down. The second he pulled them free and tossed them aside, he began petting her again where she ached most.
Finally, she wrestled off her sweater, but it didn’t bring her any relief. Heat assailed her. Her feverish skin felt tight. If he didn’t do something besides stoke this blaze, she would combust.
“Your tits look so fucking luscious,” he rasped, his stare glued to her lace-clad breasts.
Under the black fire of his stare, her ache grew. Her nipples tightened and tingled. As if he now had mastery over her body, she arched, offering him her breasts. She parted her legs, giving him her sex.
“Brea. Baby…” His thumb delved between her slick folds to center on her sensitive bud. “I’ve dreamed of this. Why don’t you remind me how pretty you look when you come?”
Everything was happening so quickly. Fierce need clawed its way past her remaining good-girl decorum, stomping all over her worry that he’d never return her feelings.
Maybe they didn’t need to talk with words right now. Under this heady rise of ecstasy, she felt his caring in every touch.
As her heart gonged in her ears, her orgasm climbed in a hot rush, then crescendoed in a sharp slide up before peaking with a stunning shock of ecstasy. He unraveled her, and she imploded, bucking under him and keening until her throat burned.
“Yes.” He panted, chest heaving. “Fuck.”
Brea hated that word…except when he said it. Then, somehow, it ignited her. Because he was forbidden? Because when he said the word, it sounded like both an expletive and a need? Yes, and when he wrapped his raspy voice around that one blunt syllable, it sounded like praise. Like a benediction.
