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For His Eyes Only(33)

By:Liz Fielding


                He lifted his hand in what felt like slow motion and grazed her cheek with the roughened tips of his fingers and, as he drew them down the line of her jaw, a jolt went through her body as if it had been jump-started.

                Her nipples tightened, puckering visibly beneath the heavy silk of her shirt, sending twin arrows of heat to the apex of her thighs, a bead of sweat trickled down her back and Darius, his thumb teasing the corner of her mouth, smiled darkly.

                Question asked and answered.

                She was finding it difficult to breathe, speech was beyond her; they both knew that she couldn’t wait to have her depths thoroughly explored in every conceivable way, so she did the only thing left to her.

                He didn’t take his eyes from her face as she slipped the tiny pearl buttons of her shirt one by one until the silk parted and then, her eyes never leaving his, her parted lips swollen, burning, she turned her head to suck his thumb into her mouth.

                Her tongue swirled around it, licking it, tasting clay and cake, sugar and something spicy that hadn’t come out of a jar. She whimpered when he took it from her. Whimpered again when he dragged its moist, broad pad across her lips.

                ‘Shush...’ he murmured and there was a moment of perfect stillness when the world centred on that small contact, balanced on a knife-edge. Then he slowly lowered his mouth to hers, retraced the path of his thumb with his tongue and she nearly fainted from the hot burst of pleasure that flooded through her. It was only his arm supporting her that kept her on her feet as her lips parted and his tongue embarked on a meltingly slow dance of exploration.

                She reached for him, cradling his head as the kiss deepened and her senses were bombarded from all directions. His hair tangled in her fingers, stubble tickled her palms. The scent of metal and clay and the oiled wooden handles of the tools he used clung to him, earthy and elemental. His hands tugged her shirt from her waistband and slid up her back, his thumbs nudged her breasts. The hard bulge of his erection butted into her hip.

                He leaned back to look at her as he swept aside silk and lace, his calloused fingers lifting her breasts free of her bra, grazing the tender skin. And then his tongue swept over the rock-hard tip of her breast and her knees buckled.

                There was a crash as he swept bones, tools aside and, without apparent effort, lifted her bodily onto the bench.

                Yes...

                The word spiralled through her, triumphant, exhilarating, liberating. She might have shouted it, but all she could hear was the sound of blood pounding in her ears as her pulse went off the scale. All she could feel was the heat of his mouth trailing moist kisses down her throat, his teeth, razor stubble grazing the swollen, sensitive skin of her breast, his suckling tongue sending a lightning bolt to her throbbing, swollen core.

                ‘Darius...’ It was a breathless, desperate plea and his hand was between her thighs, pushing aside the flimsy barrier to greet the liquid fire that flashed to meet first one and then two of those deliciously long fingers driving into her.

                She reared to meet them, wanting more, demanding more as the furnace, lit in the very first moment she’d set eyes on him, hit meltdown. She’d wanted it then, wanted it as she’d beaten butter and sugar into submission, wanted him inside her...

                She clutched at hard shoulders, her nails digging into his flesh through the soft cloth of his shirt as his knuckle hit the sweet, screaming spot. She had no breath to scream, urge him on; all she could do was make small desperate sounds as she arched upwards, demanding more, as he made her wait, taking his time, stroking, tormenting, teasing her throat, her breasts, her stomach with his teeth, his tongue, keeping her on the limit of endurance with his fingers, the subtle pressure of his thumb until her body, lost in bliss, slipped from her control and became entirely his. Only then did he release her in a shattering orgasm that went through her like a tornado, lifting, spinning, dumping her dazed, slicked with sweat and clinging to him like a life raft.