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As if he sensed her readiness, he ended the kiss and released her leg. “Turn around.”
“Why?”
“Turn around, Amanda,” he urged softly, his eyes dark with passion and challenge. “Trust me.”
Why was she doing this? No answer came to her beyond the need to know what he would do to her. “All right.”
Satisfaction flashed in his face before he leaned back enough to allow her to move. “Hands on the wall.” He directed her as his palms settled on her waist.
The eroticism of the moment swelled. She couldn’t see him, couldn’t anticipate what he would do. Yet she could feel him, his body close, touching her in places that made her want more. She’d never experienced such a thing, her arousal so intense. She felt his hand on her zipper, easing it down her back. Already she ached for him, dampness clinging to the satin between her legs.
“I watched you tonight,” he said, “standing across the parking lot wearing this dress. All I could think about was doing exactly what I’m doing right now.”
His knuckles brushed her bare back, and she shivered against the unexpected touch. Molten heat moved through her limbs as if she’d been drugged, and her nipples puckered against their lace confines. He skimmed the dress from her shoulders, his hands following its path down her arms. She pulled her hands through the sleeves, letting it fall to her waist, then shimmying it down her hips. Her panties followed.
She stepped out of the pool of cloth, and he used his foot to widen her stance, opening her to his touch, to his stare. She stood before him, wearing only her bra and her high heels. Knowing he was fully dressed right now made her feel incredibly sexy, as though she was his to admire.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured. The compliment fed the ache in her core, just as it had during their previous encounter.
He undid her bra and she shrugged it away.
“Hands back on the wall.”
She didn’t hesitate or argue. She wanted what he offered far too much.
His thighs aligned with hers, his cock pressing into her backside. His hands slid to her stomach, then burned a path upward until they covered her breasts. He sculpted them with his palms, his touch firm, yet gentle.
With his long fingers he tweaked her nipples, drawing them into hardened peaks, pleasure rippling through the sensitive buds.
“Does that feel good, Amanda?”
“Yes.” She gasped as his fingers lightly tugged on her nipples. “Yes.”
“See what happens when you trust me,” he murmured, palming her breasts again and kneading.
Amanda moaned, finding herself arching into his hands even as her hips pressed backward into his erection, wanting all she could get of him. Never had she felt such abandon during sex. And she liked it so damn much.
His mouth touched her neck, and she leaned to the side to give him better access. She could barely breathe as his lips and teeth nipped, licked, teased. She started rolling her backside into his cock, desperate for him. As much as the scrape of his clothing against her skin tantalized, she hated the barrier of his clothes. Their presence indicated how long she had to wait to feel him inside her.
And when she thought she would scream with frustration, he seemed to sense her need building. He slid down her body, hands traveling her sides, her waist, her hips, until he was on the floor between her legs.
Reality rushed back to her. This position made her vulnerable, exposed. She stiffened, wanting to cover herself.
Before she could speak, he caressed her cheeks with his hands and lips. “Easy, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Remember, pleasure. But you have to trust me.”
His hand slid between her legs, his fingers claiming her swollen clit and teasing it. Amanda’s breath caught in her throat at the action, her body again taking her beyond thought, beyond resistance. She was lost as his fingers slid through the dampness of her sex, gliding along her sensitive folds, pleasuring her even more than promised.
Tension built low in her stomach, demanding more, demanding she rock against his fingers. But as she pressed against his hand, he stole it from her reach. An objection on her lips, she gasped to find the wet heat of his mouth closing over her. He’d spun around so that his tongue could lap at her with delicious perfection.
With precision, he used his tongue, his mouth, his fingers, to stroke her, rocking as she rocked. That tension in her stomach knotted, built, pushed, and she cried out on the edge of release. In response, he steadied her with his free hand, supporting her so she wouldn’t fall while he sucked her fully into his mouth.
Suddenly, her muscles clenched before a flutter of spasms delivered bursts of pleasure. The pleasure seemed to go on and on, taking all of her.
