And then that hard palm was under her blouse, seeking and searching and finding her breast, cupping her once more through the lacy bra cup. His fingertips skimmed the edges of the bra, dipping in a little, teasing.
“We need less clothes.” His laugh was rough, low. “A lot less clothes.” He shifted and the light snapped on suddenly, flaring bright in the room. His eyes as he gazed down at her was full of heat, a dark green with carnal knowledge and anticipation.
Cherry froze, feeling like the proverbial deer caught in the headlights.
Rick’s hand went to her waist, smoothing underneath her blouse as he returned to nuzzling her throat, his tongue licking across her pulse.
Desire still churned through her, but… Reaching up, she snapped the light off.
He went still as the room was again plunged into dimness, the only light that of the veranda globe through the open curtains.
Their gasping breaths filled the room.
Finally, he said roughly, “Let me turn on the light.”
“No.” In the dimness she looked him directly in the eyes, seeing their glitter. “Please. No.”
“You have nothing to be ashamed of.” His palms stroked the indent of her waist, sending heat pooling in her loins.
But fear still ruled part of her brain. The part that was still thinking, however sluggishly. “You said – you said there were no rules. So that includes having to have a light on.”
He was silent for so long that her self-consciousness started to rear up, her desire crumbling beneath its onslaught. “This was a mistake. I—” She didn’t get another word out.
Rick took her mouth, his kiss carnal, and the embers of her desire that were still flickering flared to life once more beneath the skill of his hands, the masterfulness of his kiss.
She wanted him. Needed him. But only on her terms, in the dimness where she could feel comfortable, where she could pretend to be someone she wasn’t, someone beautiful and slender. In the dimness she could press up against him, could handle having him stroke and caress her.
Her blouse was slipped over her head, her bra unhooked and drawn from her as Rick kissed her hotly, his mouth ravaging hers, his so-knowing hands stoking the flames of desire higher.
In the dimness she was free to mould her hands to his back, to feel the skin laid over muscle as he moved. She could kiss him back as hotly, letting her inhibitions fly free.
Finding the hem of his t-shirt, she tugged it up, and he lifted his arms to pull it over his head and discard it to the side. The hardness of his muscle-ribbed abdomen was a delight to her fingers as she danced them lightly over the swells. His shoulders were big in the gloom, looming over her, rounding as he bent low once more, his lips trailing down her throat and lower, skimming across her collarbone, his tongue sweeping into the hollow.
And his hands - dear God, his hands cupped her bare breasts, weighing the generous globes, and she swore he left the imprint of his fingers on her skin. Heat spiralled out from his very touch, her nipples peaking, aching, and she bit off a moan as his thumbs brushed over the tender, hard nubs.
“Don’t hold back,” he ordered huskily, his breath damp on her skin where the curve of her shoulder met the curve of her neck. “Moan for me, baby. Let me know what pleases you.”
Cherry couldn’t think. Everything pleased her. Everything made her shiver with desire, her blood feeling as though it was a river of pure fire going through her, torching her nerves and sensations.
One of his hands brushed along her belly, a long finger dipping into her belly-button and making her suck in a deep breath. His laugh was low, rough with desire.
Desire for her. He couldn’t hide it, it was so clear, and she revelled in it.
Here in the dimness, she revelled in a handsome man’s lust for her. Rick’s lust for her.
Strong fingers hooked into the waistband of her pedal pushers and thrust them downwards, taking her lacy panties on the way. The material pooled at her feet, and she stepped out of them, kicking off her ballet flats at the same time.
Here in the dimness she grew bolder, her own fingers spreading over the smooth swells of his pectorals, her palms gliding across small, male nipples that were already hard. Rick growled his pleasure against her throat.
Moving her hands further down, she glided over the six pack of his stomach and lower. Lower. Caught up in hot desire, she slid her fingers down the front of his jeans and almost immediately she encountered the weeping head of his shaft. She felt the length of him jump against her hand.
“Oh God,” he groaned huskily. “Cherry. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.” With every word he nipped her shoulder.
Emboldened, she popped the snap of the jeans and slid the zipper down carefully, and his shaft, encased in his boxers, nudged her hand. In seconds she’d pulled the soft material down and then he was there, that hot, rigid length surging free, and she cupped her hand around it.