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He stopped. ‘For now, lie back and enjoy. Soon enough I’ll have you watching me pleasure you.’
Lance centred on her clitoris. Nothing carried any meaning bar the burst of delicious agony between her thighs, his tongue concentrating on one tiny spot where her world entirely focused. Circling and driving her mad. She thrust her hand into his hair, gripping tight and holding him in place, as if it would end her if he moved away. The harder she held, the slower he went until all she felt was the impossible light flicking of him, and she writhed against his mouth, trying to get closer, saying unintelligible things, begging for release from the agony of it all. He didn’t relent, the sensual torture seemingly endless. As if she were the most delicious dish imaginable and he was savouring her. Each time she came close he eased off, and she hated and adored him in equal measure as she trembled in ecstasy.
Then she felt it, at the entrance of her. A finger, pressing and easing inside. Sliding out and moving in again in a relentless rhythm, until it was joined by another. She moved her hips in time with his ministrations, the circling of his tongue, the thrust of his fingers. Then he curled them, touching a place deep inside. Her hips lifted from the bed and his mouth sucked hard at the heart of her. She wailed as the white-hot scorch of an orgasm tore through her body, wave after wave of agonising spasms wrecking her completely.
He brought her down gently, kissing her inner thighs, stroking her as she sobbed, tears streaming down her cheeks and she didn’t care.
Losing her mind had never felt so good.
Lance took a glorious moment to absorb the beauty of Sara Conrad, gasping and unintelligible, sobbing with pleasure. Sleep shirt rucked up. Legs splayed wide. He gloried in the sensation, his name on her lips a benediction. Spread out on the sheets of his bed like a wicked offering. Utterly wrecked. He moved up her body, stroking, soothing, as he anticipated the next moments, offinallybeing inside her, hot and perfect.
She moaned at his touch and he allowed her to catch her breath, to glory in the sensation of her first orgasm at the hands of another. Then he kissed her luscious cherry lips and she almost devoured him, arching her body into his palms. He needed fewer clothes, nothing between them, close to being swept away by the wave of passion between them. He wrestled off his boxer shorts, the last vestige of his attempt at respectability stripped away, and carefully slipped Sara’s top from her limp, replete body so she lay, flushed and glorious, on the bed before him.
He craved to rush, pound into that glorious soft body of hers till she screamed his name again. But she deserved his time, his selflessness. His hands trembled as he sought out protection and sheathed himself. How long had it been since he’d been like this, almost out of his mind with desire? Like a teenager all over again, when life still seemed full of possibility and promise. All he wanted was to be inside the warm dark heart of her and lose himself, carry them away from the reality of how temporary this was.
He crawled over her. Dropped his mouth to her favoured left nipple and used his teeth and tongue until she was writhing and begging once more, pleading to be sated. He was so damned hard he was terrified he wouldn’t last, wanting her mindless again before he entered her, so he could keep his promise that this bed was about pleasure. He slid his hand between her legs, delving inside as she rocked into his palm, so wet and swollen with arousal it almost undid him. Then he positioned himself over her, notched at the centre of her body, and began sliding home, easing inside her until she was praying and moaning his name over and over. He stilled as she gasped. Held, seated deep inside her until she became used to him, kissing her slow, lush and deep.
‘Let me show you how Iownyou.’
He moved. Slowly at first, gently rocking, till her legs wrapped round his waist and her heels jammed into his back, driving him hard. He took her with firm thrusts, buried his head in her neck and breathed in the heady scent of flowers and hot, aroused woman. Harder and harder, glorying in the digging of her nails in his back, the slick slide of bodies coming together.
Starbursts behind his eyes told him he was close. The way she clenched round him warned him she was too. He gritted his teeth against the prickle at the base of his spine, wanting her to come first, panting through the impending ecstasy as she ground against him, moaning,‘Please...please...please...’
He lifted on his arms, looking down on her, head thrown back, eyes heavy-lidded and vacant with ecstasy, taken to some other place he’d soon follow as he thrust, keeping up a relentless rhythm. He dropped his gaze to where they were joined, the eroticism of that sight almost undoing him.
But her first. Always her.
‘Angel. Look atus...look at what I’m doing to you.’
The words were a command and he loved how she obeyed, coming out of her reverie, lifting her head from the pillows to watch between them, her eyes glassy, almost unfocused.
He changed his angle. A tilt and twist and it ended her. She arched, falling back, screaming to the room and convulsing around him. The sensation ripped up his spine, rending him in two. His mind blanked with white-hot ecstasy, her name on his lips like a prayer of thanks.
Lance dropped to her, their bodies slick, pressing feather-light kisses over her neck as she came back to herself moment by moment. Her warm, gentle hands slid over his back as they remained joined. He’d move in a moment, but this... In his long and privileged experience, he’d never enjoyed anything like it. It rocked him, and in a recess of his barely functional brain he knew it was...more.This woman in his arms, in his bed, waseverything. He could barely catch his breath. He wanted her again and again. He was still hard inside her. He could take her now, wanted to. He felt insatiable. It should have terrified him, but all that settled over him was a gloating kind of contentment.
Sara untangled her legs from around his back with a sigh as he slid out of her. Coherence was still piecing itself together, sensible thought blown apart. Somewhere in the fog of lingering pleasure he knew this should be worrying him, but as his body hummed, replete, he really couldn’t care.
‘Is it always like this?’ she whispered, her voice hoarse. A pulse of ego thumped through him, that he’d done this to her.
Never...
But he couldn’t admit that, or the truth of what they’d both experienced.
‘Yes...if you know what you’re doing.’
The lie wrapped its sharp tendrils round him, digging in hard, because he was not doing justice to what they’d shared. But there was no point romanticising this for her, or waxing poetic about what had happened in this bed. This was short-term, not for ever. Even though every nerve in his body screamed in violent disagreement that short-term wouldn’t be long enough to sate him. Medium-term, he bargained. He’d tire of this before then.
He had to. He couldn’t keep her.
A smile curled on Sara’s pink, well kissed lips, and an egotistical pleasure curled through him. ‘Then you mustreallyknow.’
‘I like to think so.’
He rolled away from her and his confusing thoughts, leaving the bed to deal with the condom. Splashed cold water on his face to bring him back to his senses. Recently, even though he was only thirty-two, he’d felt old. Knew without a doubt he was jaded. But when Rafe had married...somehow imagining his best friend and partner in crime being...domesticatedmade settling down seem almost tempting.
He shook his head. It was a marriage of necessity for the Lauritanian Queen, and one of ambition for Rafe. Still, Lance had assumed that he and his friend would be the last bastions of bachelorhood. But tonight, with Sara in his arms, something else roared through him. As if he were eighteen again, with his whole life ahead of him. It was intoxicating, that sense of possibility, the same as when he walked into an old house full of hidden treasures. He didn’t know what to do with that. And it didn’t bear thinking about, so he returned to the bed where Sara lay.
She looked at him and stretched, but in her eyes he could see a small shadow of uncertainty. There was no way that could remain. In this bed, Sara shouldn’t feel uncertain about anything. He stalked towards her, beautiful and wrecked, her skin flushed pink with grazes here and there from his growing stubble. Marks he’d made. A rush of blood coursed through him. Her eyes dropped to his groin and it was his turn to smile. There were advantages to everything feeling so new and fresh. He was hard for her again and from the way her eyes fixed on him with hunger it was clear she wanted him too.
