Beauty and the Bachelor(27)

The bottom plummeted out of his gut, and he rolled over on his back, his  arm thrown across his eyes. Damn. Damn, damn, damn. Air sawed out of  his lungs, and his erection, rock hard and aching, pounded in time with  his heart.

A few minutes. I just need a few minutes. Then maybe I can walk …

The room plunged into darkness, the pale moonlight streaming through the  floor-to-ceiling windows providing illumination. He straightened, and  if he hadn't been sitting, shock would've knocked him on his ass. Like a  wet dream come to vivid life, she stood next to the bedroom door and  the light switch she'd just flicked off … the sweater she'd just drawn up  and over her head on the floor at her feet.         

     



 

Shadows draped her, but they couldn't conceal the bared golden skin, the  beautiful breasts cradled by black lace, the perfect indent of her  waist and sexy flare of her hips. Neither could the darkness eclipse the  courageous tilt of her chin or the instinctive tensing of her arms, as  if she wanted to fold them around her torso, hide from him, but stopped  herself.

Good. She was gorgeous. A voluptuous goddess in lace, silk, and knit instead of sea foam and shell.

Her thumbs hooked into the waistband of her pants. "Stop," he rasped.  Cupping his hand, he beckoned her forward. "Come here." His voice,  harshened by lust, sounded like sandpaper in the silent room.

Fierce satisfaction burned in him when she obeyed without hesitation.  She retraced her steps to him, her feet soundless on the hardwood floor.  When she stood between his thighs, he pulled her in those last few  inches until the outside of her legs stamped the inside of his. Pressing  his face to the smooth, flat expense of her abdomen, he breathed her  in. Her sweet scent filled his nostrils, and he couldn't resist opening  his mouth over her skin, sucking and licking as if he could draw the  honey and cinnamon color onto his tongue.

Her soft sigh roughened as he moved up her torso to the shadowed valley  between her breasts. He lingered there, lapping at the silken flesh not  covered by black lace. Trembling beneath his hands, she threaded her  fingers through his hair, clutching him close. He received her  telegraphed message: more. Images of the night on the stairs after the  gala, her breasts bared to him and his touch, infiltrated his mind.  Hell, yes, he wanted that. More. He wanted his mouth to explore what his  hands had already navigated. But first …

"Kiss me." He didn't wait for her to comply but grasped the back of her  neck and drew her down. Gold and brown spirals surrounded his face,  brushed his cheeks, jaw, and neck. Enclosing them in a sensual world of  taste, sighs, and lust. Groaning, he parted her full lips with his  tongue, and she yielded to him. He couldn't get enough of her mouth; he  hadn't lied when he'd told her how he adored it. Fucking fantasized  about it. He swept inside, thrusting, daring-demanding-and she partnered  him in the erotic dance.

With her flavor sharp on his palate, he reluctantly abandoned the kiss  to trail down her chin, across her jaw, and down the slender column of  her neck. Damn, he wanted to linger, to savor. But he was also impatient  as hell. Hunger and need rode him hard, relentlessly. The control it  required not to rip the remaining clothing from her body and plunge  between her thighs, first with his mouth, then his cock …  He deserved a  gold medal.

Leaning back, he rested a fingertip on her bra's front clasp. Lifted his  gaze to hers. And waited. Only when she gave a tiny nod did he pop the  closure and almost reverently peel back the cups. Sliding his fingers  under the straps, he pushed the lace and satin down her arms.

"Beautiful," he murmured, drinking in the curves that pronounced-hell,  shouted-she was a woman. "You're so damn beautiful." Full, satiny smooth  and crowned by nipples of the richest caramel. "So damn sweet."

With a low rumble in his throat, he palmed her breasts, held one up to  his lips, and sucked her into his mouth. Sydney cried out, jerked hard,  but the grip on his hair tightened, grabbed him closer.

He coiled his tongue around the hard tip, licking it, savoring it.  Worshipping it. She deserved to be worshipped, to be told even without  words how gorgeous and sexy she was. Releasing her nipple, he switched  to the other, lavishing the same attention on the peak while dragging  his thumb back and forth across the wet, swollen nub he'd just enjoyed.

Small whimpers escaped her as she arched her back, offering him more of  herself. Her hips rolled, wildly undulating, pleading. His cock pounded  at the erotic sight of her hunger. Deftly, he switched their positions,  flipping her onto the bed and her back. Quickly divesting her of her  remaining clothing, he tossed the pants and matching black panties to  the floor.

Desire pummeled the breath from his lungs. Slender shoulders, perfect  breasts, and a small waist tapered into hips perfect for a man to dig  his fingers into as he fucked with wild abandon. Toned, firm legs made  for clasping a man's waist or shoulders. And his. For at least a year,  she was his to touch, stroke, pleasure.

Whipping his sweater over his head, he placed a knee on the mattress. He  palmed her thighs, spread them farther apart. And farther still. Wide  enough to accommodate his shoulders. Curls denser and darker than the  spirals on her head shielded her sex from him. But as he slid his hands  under her ass and lifted her to him, nothing could hide the plump,  feminine core of her or the glossy evidence of her desire from him. This  close, he could smell the sweet and spicy perfume of her flesh. He'd  been right. The honeysuckle scent was thickest here. His mouth watered  for a taste, even knowing a sampling wouldn't satisfy the hunger burning  a hole in his gut.         

     



 

"Lucas," she gasped, her fingers scrabbling at his shoulders.

"Luke," he corrected, laying a kiss to the sensitive place where her  thigh and torso connected. "In here, it's Luke." Why he pressed her on  the less tangible but intimate connection of his shortened name, he  couldn't explain. He just knew he wanted-needed-to hear it on her lips.  Right here when they were about to become as close as two people could  be. "Say it, Sydney."

A small hesitation, then, "Luke." She clutched his head, her fingertips a  blunt pressure against his scalp. "Please," she breathed.

She didn't have to plead with him to take what he desired to claim. With  a growl, he dipped his head and licked a path from the small, clenching  entrance to the nub at the top of her glistening folds. Gently, he  circled his tongue around her clit, lapping at the tight, pulsing kernel  of flesh. But soon, it wasn't enough. Burrowing lower, he feasted.  Sucked. Stroked. And thrust. Not one part of her remained a mystery to  him. Even as her pleas and cries filled the room, he didn't stop. Not  until he drew on her clit, plunged two fingers deep into her core, and  the lush, muscled walls convulsed around him. Sydney thrashed on the  bed, writhing, arching under his hand and mouth. Coming apart in a  tableau so erotic, so hot, so feminine, he almost exploded with her.

When the last contraction ebbed, he gritted his teeth and slid his  fingers from her slick heat. He lurched to his feet, snatched his wallet  from his back pocket, and removed a foil packet. Tossing the billfold  to the bedside table, he rid himself of his jeans. Just the economical  strokes of his hand to sheath himself in the latex shoved his control  closer and closer to no man's land. Stalking to the bed, he kneeled  between her wide-spread thighs again, cupping the soft underside of them  and pushing her legs back. Exposing her pink, swollen flesh to his  ravenous gaze and his dick.

"Once isn't going to be enough, sweetheart," he warned her, nudging the  tiny entrance to the heart of her with the round head of his cock. "Once  I'm inside your"-he pushed, and indescribable pleasure nailed him in  the base of the spine, squeezed his balls-"pussy, once is not going to  be nearly enough," he ground out. He withdrew, surged forward until half  of the thick stem was submerged in her perfect, too-small core. "You're  so tight. So wet. And it's for me."

Staring at the place where she flowered around him, he drew back once  more, then with an animal-like grunt, thrust. Ecstasy ripped the shout  from his throat, mingling with her throaty scream. All of him. She  squeezed and rippled around all of him. Damn. He held himself brutally  still. Sweat slid down his temple, dotted his shoulders and chest. Every  muscle in his body strained, railed at him to take, to plunge, to fuck.  A couple more minutes. Just a couple more, and he could scrape enough  control together …

Then she reared up, wrapped her arms around his neck. And bit him.

The tattered leash on his restraint snapped.

Palms slamming down on either side of her head, he claimed her mouth in a  voracious kiss as he dragged his cock from her flesh until her folds  kissed the head. Then drove back inside. Her sex sucked at him like a  mouth, caressing him, clasping him. He gripped her knee, hiked it higher  around his waist, opening her more. Allowing him deeper.