His hands roamed over her back, fiery circles that inflamed her already raging passions.
She could not get close enough, fast enough. He dragged his mouth from hers, licking and nibbling along her jaw. Sweeping her hair aside, he nibbled delicately on her sensitive earlobe.
Pleasure, intense and dangerous, swirled inside her.
She squirmed in his arms, creating a delicate friction between her breasts and his chest that drew a moan from him. His tongue forged a path down her neck, setting her skin aflame. He pressed her even closer until every point of contact sizzled. She wanted more. Plastered to his broad chest, she tangled her fingers in his black hair, the silky texture tantalizing her with yet another combination of sensations. She loved his hair, thick and springy yet silky to her touch.
“I want you,” she whispered huskily in his ear as his mouth moved along the curve of her neck and shoulder. His teeth scraped lightly over her skin and a shudder of delight shook her.
She shifted her hold, her trembling hands sliding from his hair to his shoulders, broad enough to carry any load. She nipped at his earlobe, swirled her tongue around, and felt his shudder of response. Pure feminine triumph had her smiling, her lips curved against his skin.
Stroking, caressing, her hands explored his chest despite the fabric separating them. Just touching thrilled her. Her fingernails raked lightly over his nipples, her hand trapped between their heaving bodies. He sucked in a ragged breath and lifted his head.
His hungry gaze clashed with hers. She stared into the dark, flickering pools of his eyes and dropped her hand to the button of his jeans. After hesitating only a fraction of a second, she moved lower to cup her hand over the bulge behind his zipper. He flinched under her touch, straining denim. Delirious, she relished his instant response and pushed her other hand under his sweatshirt, felt the quiver of his stomach as her fingers walked up all that glorious male flesh.
She flicked a nipple with her fingernail. Both of her hands moved and maneuvered at the same time. A harsh groan erupted from deep in his throat.
He dropped his hands to the hem of her sweatshirt and shoved the fabric above her breasts. He groaned his delight at finding her braless. Laurie snatched her hands from him, yanked her shirt over her head and tossed it aside. She reached for him but he caught her hands and simply stared at her, his gaze riveted to her breasts.
“Witch,” he muttered and quickly shed his shirt.
She caught only a brief glimpse of all that gleaming skin, the contrast of wavering shadows and flickering firelight, before he lowered her onto the mattress.
His eyes gleamed dark, dangerous, and exciting as he leaned over her. Turgid and straining, her nipples brushed his chest. Oh, God, was her only thought as he captured her mouth and ravished it with lips and teeth and tongue. She no longer heard the thunderstorm over the rush and roar of blood in her ears. Her pulse pounded erratically. Was that her heart pounding or his? His hand was rough, calloused as it swept over her ribcage and covered her breast.
ALWAYS A WARRIOR Patricia Bruening
52
She arched automatically, filling his large but somehow gentle hand with her aching flesh. He molded, kneaded, and tweaked her already hard nipple between finger and thumb.
Erotic pulses hummed along her frazzled nerves, sent jets of fire straight to her loins.
Writhing, she clamped her hands on his arms, dug her fingers into hard muscle. Her heart raced even faster and she closed her eyes, swamped in erotic sensations. He dragged his mouth from hers, replacing his fingers on her breast. His tongue laved, stroked, and drew strangled moans from her. His lips closed around her and he suckled, tugging on her nipple as though it was the sweetest nectar.
“Jesus.” The word was a long, drawn out groan of aching pleasure. Her hands fisted in his hair and she clutched him to her. Volcanic heat wrapped around her, swept her away like a river of molten lava.
Propping himself on one elbow, he switched breasts and sent the same shocking sensations slamming into her. Her hands lost their grip on his hair, slid limply to her side, and then clenched the sheet in tight fists.
“Please, Damien,” she begged breathlessly, unable to stop herself.
His hands streaked, hot and lethal, over her quivering stomach to the button of her jeans and lingered there. She writhed frantically as his fingers teased her skin, dipping beneath her waistband in soft strokes. He lifted his head, speared her with the raging unleashed passion in his eyes. She could not look away, did not want to look away. Pleasure, bordering on pain, spread through her in shocking waves. His knuckles brushed her skin as he unbuttoned her jeans.
Anticipation, sharp and edgy, knifed into her again.