Billionaire's Contract Engagement(23)

He wrapped both arms around her waist and lowered his mouth to the  valley between her breasts. He kissed and nibbled at the plump swells  until she gasped and struggled for each breath.         

     



 

The straps had loosened and tumbled down her shoulders. He slid his  palms up her body, hooked his thumbs in the straps and dragged them back  down.

He tugged until finally one cup slipped down and freed her breast. He  licked the nipple until it puckered and strained outward. Then he closed  his mouth ever so gently around the tip.

"Evan," she whispered as her hands tangled in his hair.

He sucked softly and then with more pressure until her entire focus was the streaks of pleasure radiating from her nipple.

Clumsily, he yanked and fumbled with the clasp of her bra until it fell  completely free. He shoved it aside and focused on unbuttoning her  pants, his mouth never leaving her breast.

He lifted her hips. She hoisted herself up, giving him room to pull her  pants down. They fell to the floor and he took a step back and ran his  gaze up and down her body.

She felt beautiful and desirable. Even irresistible. He ate her with his  eyes. Appreciation didn't adequately describe what she saw in his gaze.  This was a man who saw only her. There were no other women.

"I can't say I ever fantasized about having sex with a woman on top of a dresser, but I'm re-evaluating. I can see the appeal."

She wiggled a little closer to him so that she was perched on the edge.  Right now she wanted him so much, even the short distance to the bed  seemed too much.

He tucked his finger underneath the lace of her panties and ran it along  the edge until he delved into her hot, liquid heat. She leaned back,  closed her eyes and moaned as he grew bolder with his exploration.

The sensation of his hands rasping lightly over her behind as he cupped  her and began to slide her underwear off was enough to drive her beyond  endurance. She had to have him. Her nerve endings were fried.

And then she was naked under his seeking gaze and inquisitive fingers.  He stroked and caressed until she was a mass of gasping, breathless  anticipation.

"No fair," she panted. "You still have clothes on."

He gave her a faint smile before quickly shedding his clothing. Then he  dropped to his knees in front of the dresser. His hands slid sensuously  up her legs, setting fire with the barest of touches.

Her breath caught and held when he parted her thighs and pressed his mouth to her most intimate flesh.

"Oh  … "

It was all she could manage. Everything went fuzzy around her. Swimming.  She was swimming in the most exquisite, mind-numbing waters she'd ever  navigated.

The man was talented. He was generous. Even when he was pushed to his  limits, he brought her to the brink of ecstasy before satisfying his own  needs.

"Evan, please!"

He rose up, gripped her knees and yanked her forward until she perched  precariously on the edge of the dresser again. There was savage menace  in his expression, the look of a man pushed too far too fast and  struggling to hold on with everything he had.

He paused only long enough to roll on a condom and then he found her center and plunged deep.

His hands slid under her bottom, gripped tight and pulled her to meet  his thrusts. He was deep and she felt him in every part of her soul. She  ended, he began. He was a part of her, taking, giving and sharing.

He leaned forward to bury his face in her neck as he rocked against her.  Lightning sizzled down her spine as he nuzzled her sensitive skin and  suckled the column of her neck.

She wrapped her arms and legs around him until there wasn't an inch of  space between them. Still buried tightly inside her, he lifted her up  and backed toward the bed. He fell, her on top, and they landed with a  jolt.

"Ride me," he said in a strained voice.

His pupils dilated and his brow constricted. Tight lines were etched  into his forehead, and his hands gripped her hips so tightly that she  could do nothing more than squeeze her inner muscles around his  erection.

"Sweat heaven," he groaned.

She wasn't going to last, and she was helpless to do anything about it. She needed to move. She had to move.

Placing her palms flat on his chest, she wiggled free of his grasp and  began to move up and down, taking him, releasing him, then taking him  again.

Sweat beaded his brow. His eyes were narrow slits, and he never took his  gaze from hers. He urged her closer so he could cup her breasts. They  filled both palms and he rubbed the pad of his thumb over the painfully  erect nubs.

"I can't hold on," she whispered.

"Then let's go together," he urged.

His hands left her breasts and he gripped her hips, lifting her and  pulling her down in time with his upward thrusts. The burn spread.  Tension mounted. She wound tighter and tighter until it was all she  could do to hang on.

She threw her head back, her mouth open in an endless cry of agony. The sweetest, most breathtaking agony of her life.         

     



 

His hands left her hips to tangle in her hair. He rose up, pulling her  harshly to meet his kiss. Frantically, his hands moved up and down her  back, into her hair, through her hair, over her face as if he couldn't  get enough and wanted to memorize every feature.

And then it was as if the world went silent. The wave rolled, crashed  and then broke into a million tiny ripples, each feeding the other.

She was no longer cognizant of holding on to him. She was riding high and fast.

She had no idea how long she lay sprawled over Evan, her heart beating  so frantically that she literally felt each thud. His arms were wrapped  around her, and their legs were all tangled up. He was still buried  inside her, and she could feel the remnants of his orgasm. Each little  pulse sent a tiny shock of aftermath flooding through her body.

Slowly she became aware that he was stroking her back and her hair. He  murmured little sweet words in her ear but nothing seemed to make sense.  She was completely befuddled by this man, by her reaction to him.

"I think I blew it again."

She smiled and snuggled a little closer, tucking her head under his chin and nuzzling his chest.

"You blew, all right. But I think I blew first."

His chest heaved as he chuckled. "You're such a naughty girl."

Summoning energy she sorely lacked, she raised her head and propped up  on his chest so she could stare down into his eyes. What she saw sent a  pang of longing straight through her heart.

He looked content. Sated, but not just in a sexual way. He looked at  home, like they'd been together forever. Oh, she had an overactive  imagination. She was sure of that. But when he looked at her like that,  with the world in his eyes, a world where only she existed, it was hard  not to get caught up in the fantasy they'd created between them.

He ran a gentle finger over her mouth. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm fairly certain a man should never ask a woman what she's thinking right after sex," she said lightly.

"I'm fairly certain all women like to talk after sex. Well, talk and cuddle, or some girly thing like that."

She grinned and leaned down to kiss him. "I like the cuddle part."

He gathered her in his arms and rolled until they lay on their sides. "Not a talker, huh?"

She reached down and carefully rolled the condom off him. He put his hand down to stop her.

"No, I'll do that. You don't have to mess with it."

But she already had it off. She kissed him again then scooted off the  bed to discard it. When she looked back, he was propped on one hand,  watching her intently.

His naked body was a gorgeous sight. Even in a relaxed state, his proportions were generous to say the least.

"If you keep looking at me like that, it's not going to stay down," he growled.

"You only have one condom?" she asked in mock horror.

He reached over, grabbed her arm and yanked her back down beside him. "I'll have you know, I had a case delivered."

She snorted with laughter. "A case? Are you planning an orgy?"

"I may have exaggerated  …  slightly. But only slightly," he said with a sly grin.

"That's good to know. I'd hate to think I was under that kind of pressure."

He tweaked her nose then followed up with a kiss. "Somehow I think you could hold up quite well."

She cuddled deeper into his embrace. She hadn't lied about the cuddling  part or the talking part. Well, maybe about the talking part. In truth,  she'd love to bare her soul, learn all his secrets, tell him all hers.  Tell him how much she loved.

She froze. For a moment she simply couldn't breathe. It wasn't as if  she'd just fallen in love with the man. No, it had probably been coming  for a while now. But she hadn't admitted it. Hadn't even thought it much  less said it aloud.

Yeah, it was there in the background just waiting for the time when she  let it slip in. She'd been so good-or so she thought-about keeping her  emotional distance.

She loved this man. Her heart seized. It was a painful admission. Wasn't  figuring out you were in love supposed to be accompanied by fireworks, a  fanfare, a giddy thrill? Wasn't it supposed to be the most wonderful  thing in the world?