His After-Hours Mistress(26)

She quivered as his hand brushed across her thighs, and caught her  breath when he approached the swollen mounds of her breasts. He had  started fires everywhere he touched, and she was burning up, so needy  she could scarcely hold back a groan. She ached for him to touch her  breasts, and arched into his hand as he cupped her. For one moment his  eyes met hers, and it was like being touched by flame.

'I know,' he murmured thickly, then his thumb flicked across her  engorged nipple, sending pleasure shooting through her body and dragging  a moan from her lips.                       
       
           



       

She closed her eyes, but that only heightened the sensations as she felt  his mouth close on her breast, his tongue laving her through the silk  of her nightdress. She could no longer lie still, and her hand rose to  his hair, slipping into the damp strands and clinging on as he drew her  into his mouth and suckled. Her other hand found the sleek planes of his  back and delighted in the glide of flesh on flesh.

Then his mouth sought the twin peak, delivering to it the same sweet  torture it had given its mate before abandoning her breasts and seeking  the honeyed sweetness of her mouth. Now she could sense the leashed  desire in him. His tongue was a silken ravishment, seeking hers and  demanding a response that left the pulses racing and breathing ragged.  Only the need for air had him drawing back to look down into her flushed  face and fevered eyes.

'I wanted this to last, but you're so intoxicating I don't think I can  hold out for much longer,' he told her in a voice made husky by passion.

Ginny felt the same, but words were beyond her. Her answer was to reach  down for the towel he wore and tug at it until he shifted his weight  enough for her to pull it free and toss it aside. Roarke's nostrils  flared as he got the message loud and clear. In return he took the hem  of her nightdress and slid it upwards until finally he eased it free of  her arms and sent it to join the towel.

Roarke's groan was echoed by her sigh of pleasure as he moved over her,  taking his weight on his elbows. One powerful thigh nudged her legs  apart, and to their mutual satisfaction he settled himself between them.  Deep inside herself Ginny could feel the coils of desire growing ever  tighter, climbing towards the ultimate goal, and she began to move  restlessly beneath him as he teased her with kisses that stoked the fire  but always left her wanting more.

All she could do was explore him with her hands, allowing her fingers to  trace their way across taut flesh. He felt wonderful, but it was not  enough. She wanted him inside her. Needed to feel the power of him  dispelling the emptiness she had felt for so long. As if he was  connected to her psychically, Roarke moved, slipping a hand between  their bodies and into the valley of her thighs, seeking the core of her.  His touch made her gasp and arch into him, leaving him in no doubt of  her readiness.

With a groan he thrust into her, and Ginny's gasp was due to discomfort,  not pleasure. They both stilled. There hadn't been anyone since Mark,  and her body had tightened. Foolishly, she hadn't been prepared for it,  but already her muscles were relaxing to accommodate him. Roarke raised  his head to look at her, confusion clouding his eyes, and she felt him  tensing his muscles in order to move away. That wasn't what she wanted  at all, and she quickly folded her legs around him, holding him where he  was.

'No. Don't stop,' she urged in a voice thick with passion.

Roarke gritted his teeth with the effort it was taking to hold still. 'I  hurt you,' he declared tautly, but Ginny shook her head in vehement  denial.

'No, you didn't. It was nothing. Please, Roarke, I want you. Don't stop now.'

He searched her eyes and what he saw there must have convinced him, for  he began to move again. She could feel him holding back, taking care,  but there was no need, and she moved against him, matching his rhythm,  urging him on until, with a groan, the magnificent control he had been  using crumpled and his thrusts became faster and deeper, seeking  release. Ginny held on, her nails digging into the flesh of his back as  the coils of pleasure spiralled upwards and finally climaxed in a  white-hot explosion of pleasure. She cried out, and her cry was echoed  by Roarke's as he joined her. She clung to him as a depth of  satisfaction she had never experienced before held her in its grip. She  felt as if she had shattered into a million tiny pieces and was being  put back together again better than before.

When she finally floated down to earth, her body was drained. She had no  energy to move and her eyelids were weighted. She felt Roarke slide off  her, and wanted to protest, but no words passed her lips. Then she was  being moved, and the last thing she remembered before sleep claimed her  was Roarke's arms slipping round her.





CHAPTER NINE




GINNY sighed and drifted into wakefulness. She stretched and winced  slightly as seldom used muscles protested. However, recalling the cause  of this morning's stiffness, a reminiscent smile slowly curved her lips.  Last night had been-out of this world. Making love with Roarke had  taken her to heights she hadn't realised it was possible to reach. It  had been amazing, exciting, and … she wouldn't at all mind doing it again.

With which thought in mind she rolled over, only to discover the other  side of the bed was empty. Frowning, she came up on her elbow and swept  her hair out of her eyes so that she could search the room. Roarke was  just coming out of his dressing room, pulling a lightweight argyle  sweater over his head. Settling it over the denims he was already  wearing, he finger-combed his hair back into place.                       
       
           



       

She had always thought he looked good in formal clothes, but he was just  as gorgeous in casual wear. The jeans moulded his legs, emphasising the  muscles, whilst the sweater outlined the chest she had come to know  rather well. She experienced a stab of disappointment that he was  already up and dressed.

'Why didn't you wake me?' she asked, with just the faintest of pouts.

Roarke glanced over at her and a smile curved his lips. He immediately  came over to the bed and sat down on the edge. Lowering his head, he  took her lips in a long lingering kiss, which went some way to appeasing  her disappointment, drawing back with obvious reluctance, before the  smouldering embers of their passion could be reignited.

'Good morning,' he greeted gruffly.

'Good morning,' Ginny returned equally gruffly.

Grey eyes quartered her face, and he brushed his knuckles gently over her cheek. 'How do you feel?'

'Pleasantly exhausted,' she responded, then grinned. 'But I have amazing  recuperative powers,' she added suggestively, making him laugh softly.

'That's good to know, sweetheart, but that isn't exactly what I meant,'  Roarke returned, holding her gaze. 'It had been a while for you, hadn't  it?'

Faint colour washed into her cheeks at the unexpected remark. She had  forgotten those brief moments of discomfort, and thought he had too. She  instinctively distanced herself mentally. 'You were disappointed,' she  declared flatly, feeling foolish, but Roarke was quick to correct her  error.

'Nothing about you disappoints me, Ginny. Far from it. I only mentioned  it because it was something I hadn't expected. It worried me that I  could have been too rough, and hurt you.'

She relaxed again. 'Oh. I see. Well, let me tell you, Mr Adams, you  didn't hurt me at all,' she told him honestly, and was faintly surprised  to see relief flash across his face. His concern made her feel warm and  bubbly inside. She wasn't used to being worried over.

'That's good, but I wish I'd known beforehand. I would have taken more care.'

More care? She couldn't help laughing. 'More care? Roarke, you couldn't possibly have taken more care than you did.'

'So, what happened? Were all the men out there blind?' he teased, more like his usual self.

Ginny sighed. 'No. It was me. After Mark, I wasn't about to rush into anything,' she admitted, surprising him again.

'There's been no one since Mark?' he repeated in disbelief, and her  shrug was just a little diffident. She didn't care to recall how stupid  she had been.

'I made a fool of myself over him, confusing desire with love. The only  way to make sure it didn't happen again was to keep all men at bay. When  you've been burned, you learn to steer clear of the fire.' It was a  philosophy which had worked well over the years, protecting her.

'OK, I can understand that. So why me? Why now?' Roarke asked curiously.

She could have said nothing, but she had already said so much, there was  no point in hiding the truth. 'Because you're the only man who's ever  made me want to change my mind.' She told the simple truth.

'Then I'm honoured,' he responded with an unexpected degree of sincerity, causing her heart to give a tiny lurch.