It felt right to wrap her arms around his neck and set her mouth on his lips, like she’d spent years
waiting for it, as right as breathing. He was motionless as though afraid she would reject him again, so
she dared to lick his lips as soon as she could, and he shuddered, a tremor rushing along his muscled
body. Suddenly he parted open and the kiss became his, and he took control of it so fiercely her senses
spun.
Her head fell back under the onslaught, sustained only by his fists on her hair, his lips firm and
pressing hers apart so his tongue could probe her, taste her. She hadn’t expected the taste of his kiss to
release such a deep need inside her, but her entire body was shaken with tremors when he grabbed her
closer to his hard body and pushed her lips apart even wider.
Her brain shut down as he roughly suckled the flesh of her lower lip into his mouth, and she
couldn’t help but go inside his mouth, greedy and thirsty. He groaned; she loved it. Felt it in her core,
her womb.
She’d never kissed anyone so primitively, so instinctively. He tasted indescribably male. Dark,
somehow, like espresso. He dragged his mouth to her ear, his voice like she had never heard it before.
“Come here and let me enjoy my new toy, Monica.”
He gripped her waist in his big hands and lifted her in the air until her breasts were on his mouth.
He nipped one nipple with his lips, the flimsy peignoir proving no barrier against his sudden kiss, the
dampness of his mouth. A moan rose unbidden within her as he turned to nip the other one.
His mouth engulfed it with the fabric and everything, and her senses honed in on his heat, his
tongue … all of her mind became engaged at once. A tremor rushed through her, her body aloft in the
air, her only contact to this earth were his hands on her waist and the burning heat of his mouth, going
from one nipple, to the other, dampening her through the fabric. Her pussy was on fire.
She felt, almost in slow motion, as he started lowering her, her partly naked body sliding down the
length of his to feel the forceful strength of his chest, the iron bulge of his erection.
Unwilling to let go, her legs curled and tightened around his hips before she hit the floor, her arms
tight around his neck as she pressed her face into his. “You know, I have a bed,” she whispered, and he
filled his hands with the firm flesh of her bottom, anchoring her to him as he carried her across the
hall in the most rousingly sexy thing any man had ever done for her. “The last room,” she murmured
breathlessly.
He smelled good, so good she wanted to bury her nose in his neck, his hair. He set her at the edge of
the mattress and spread open her peignoir with almost brusque, eager hands, and her blood surged at
his touch, from her fingertips to her toes.
His blond head was bent as he unfastened one more string tied around her middle, his eyelashes two
half moons against his cheekbones, his lips perfection. Full and fleshy, perfectly formed. She creamed
as he inched back and tossed the flimsy nightgown aside, Monica naked for his perusal.
Quietly engrossed with his expression of pure, unabashed lust, she watched him stroke an open hand
up her stomach, then he circled his thumb around her belly button before he bent to lick.
Her breasts became heavy and swollen, the nipples straining pink and forward, and then Daniel set
one slow, dry kiss on each wanton nipple tip. She was so aroused by the time he lifted his head, he
could’ve set off a thousand fireworks inside her the very instant he penetrated her.
With heavy-lidded eyes, he gazed down at the apex between her legs, parting them nimbly with his
hands, surveying the pink petals already glistening with arousal. “No problems making mental lists
now, do we…?” he murmured.
He touched her slick lips with his fingertip, the touch sending new spirals of bliss surging through
her.
She was aware of the fabric of his shirt caressing his skin as he moved, the way his cock pressed a
bulge into his pants and almost touched her at the knee. She noticed the pair of candles she’d lit on her
nightstands and suddenly felt like she flickered on the inside, deep inside, like them, slowly burning
for him.
She watched him stand back and work on his belt. Him. Prince of the Windy City. She remembered
him coming apart for her. Climaxing all raw and undone. In his clothes. Under her hand.
It hurt to remember, and she squirmed, her breathing suddenly going fast and needy as he pushed
off his dark dress slacks, designer belt and all.
Her eyes blurred at the sight of his erection. Every square of his abdomen was perfect, his navel
smooth and flat as it led to a blond thatch of curls, a shade darker than his hair, from where he rose
magnificently upward. Her nipples became hard as diamonds, the flesh of her sex swelling as she