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No, he wouldn’t. He couldn’t. He couldn’t love her, give her the kind of crazy happy ever after she didn’t even believe in.
But he could give her the night. An endless night, blind and forbidden. All she had to do was ask.
She held out her hand. It was trembling, and there was no way she could disguise the fact. “Maybe I’m not so brave, after all,” she said in a shaky voice.
“Bravery is being afraid and then doing it anyway.” He took her hand and his warmth flowed into her. “Tell me.”
The bed was big and high. She climbed up onto it, letting the silk kimono settle around her as she knelt. He didn’t move to make room, just watched her, waiting.
Pulling her hand free, she reached down and untied the sash of the robe, letting it fall open. Her hair was loose around her shoulders, and she was vulnerable, totally open to him.
“I want to put my mouth on you,” she said, her voice little more than a whisper. “Everywhere. I want to touch you, learn your body, find out what you like, what you need. I want to make you as crazy with wanting as I am. I want you, everything you can give me, everything I can give you, and I want the night to last forever. Can you give me that?”
“Yes,” he said. He reached up and pushed the robe from her shoulders so that she was naked. “As for what I want, what I need, it’s very simple. It’s you.”
She wanted to cry, but she didn’t. “Then let me learn you,” she said. She put her hands on his chest and found his skin smooth, hot to the touch. She ran her fingers over his body, over his flat, dark nipples, the bone and muscle and sinew of him, and he tilted his head back, closing his eyes, letting her.
He had scars. Some of them barely healed, some of them old and faded. He was deceptively lean—she knew how strong he really was. But she didn’t know what he tasted like.
She leaned down, her long hair brushing his face, and put her mouth against the side of his neck, letting her teeth rest against the fierce pulse that beat there. It was his life vibrating against her mouth, and she wanted more.
The base of his throat was soft, vulnerable, and she ran her tongue across it, then felt the shiver that ran through his body. She moved down, over the elegantly defined muscle, to one dark nipple, and without thinking she drew it in, sucking it.
He made a muffled sound, and the nub hardened against her tongue, but he didn’t touch her. He lay back on the bed, arms at his sides, letting her discover him.
His skin was alive beneath her mouth. He had no hair on his chest, but was sleek, and so exquisitely beautiful she wondered what she was doing in bed with him. Because she was. In bed with him. By her own choice.
Summer nudged the sheet out of the way. A thin line of dark hair dusted his flat belly, arrowing down, and she tasted that, too, letting her tongue play with the silken curls.
His hands were clenched now, she realized with distant satisfaction. He was burning, he was hard, and she pulled the rest of the sheet off him.
He was bigger than she expected, and she felt a moment’s doubt, one she ignored. She already knew the parts fit. Now was her time to experiment.
She touched him, her hand cool on his heated cock, and he seemed to grow harder, bigger beneath her delicate grasp. Such a pretty thing, she thought, wondering what she had ever been afraid of. It was for her, the blood pulsing through the thick shaft, the heat and size and power of him. It was for her, and she took it, her tongue tracing the marbled veins, dancing on his skin, touching, tasting, until she wanted more, and she closed her lips over the head of his cock, drawing it into her mouth.
His entire body arched off the bed, and she could feel the sheet beneath her being torn away in his fists.
She should have taken pity on him, but this was too wonderful, the fierce power of having him a slave to her hungry mouth. She wanted more. She could taste the sweetness against her tongue, and she tried to take more of him into her mouth, needing everything he was willing to give her.
And then he let go of the bed, his hands cradling her head, his fingers threading through her hair, and a spasm of delight hit her, strong enough to startle her.
Before she realized what he was doing he’d pulled her away, flipping her over so that she was on her back, a frenzied protest on her lips, a protest he silenced with his mouth, his tongue where his cock had been, and she took the substitute with heady delight.
He was leaning over her, breathing deeply, his eyes hooded. “You’re a fast learner, but you’re not quite ready for that.”
“Yes, I am,” she said, trying to push him back. “I want to. I want…”
“What do you want, Su-chan?” Now it was his turn to touch her, taste her. Another small climax shook her body when he closed his mouth over her nipple, and with each deep, sucking pull of his lips the fluttering contractions grew stronger.
“I want you,” she said. “I want you inside me. I want to feel you…”
“Say it. You want to feel me come inside you again. That’s what you want, isn’t it? You want my cock?”
“Yes,” she gasped.
He smiled down at her. “Good girl,” he said. “But not yet.”
Her cry of protest was swallowed in a great gasp of breath as he slid down her body, pushed her trembling legs apart and put his mouth against her.
