Not the Marrying Kind(38)
His heart jack-knifed. She was beyond sexy. And she was all his. “Sure you’re ready for it?”
“Oh, I’m ready.” She picked up a handful of poppies and tossed them in his face, chuckling like she knew some great secret he didn’t.
“Think you’re a tough girl, huh?”
“I don’t think, I know.” Picking poppies out of his hair, her fingertips skimmed his scalp, making it prickle. She arched, bringing her body in temptingly close contact with his in an overt invitation. “The question is, can you handle me?”
He didn’t need to be asked twice.
“I can handle anything you dish out and more, sweetheart.” He skimmed his hand down her body, starting at her cleavage and moving lower. The satin of her dress felt slippery beneath his palm, until he realized he was probably sweating.
Him, nervous? Never.
He reached just below her navel when his wedding ring snagged on a crystal and she chuckled. “I don’t usually get laughed at in the bedroom.”
“Why not? Sex is fun.” She winked. “Unless you’re into that painful kinky stuff—”
“You talk too much.” He yanked his hand free and covered her mouth with his. Deepened the kiss. His tongue entwining with hers in a long, hot, mind-numbing kiss that assured him this was right.
They were both panting when they came up for air. And grinning.
Bizarre. He’d never had fun sex before.
He liked it.
“Careful. Looks like you’re enjoying yourself.” She traced his bottom lip with her fingertip, a slow sensual sweep that intensified the anticipation.
“And we haven’t even got to the good part yet.”
Her fingertip left his mouth, trailed along his jaw, his chest.
Lower.
She toyed with the waistband of his trousers, fiddled with the belt buckle, and he gritted his teeth at the exquisite torture. When she cupped his erection, he groaned.
She squeezed. “This the good stuff you were referring to?”
“And the rest.”
He growled as he lowered himself flush against her, nuzzling her neck, nipping gently. She writhed beneath him, her soft moans firing his libido. Like it needed that. His body roared for her.
He’d had grand plans to seduce her slowly, to prolong the pleasure. Those plans were shot the moment she’d touched him. He needed more. He needed all of her. Now.
“I want you.”
Her lips stilled the exploration of his neck. She captured his face in her hands and looked him straight in the eye. “Right back at you.”
She surged upward, plastering her mouth to his, her hands desperate as they plucked at his dress shirt. Unable to find purchase, she slid her fingers between the cotton and ripped, the buttons pinging onto the wooden floorboards.
Flowers flew as their frantic hands made quick work of their clothes. She pushed his shirt off his shoulders, kissing her way across his collarbone. He unzipped her dress and she shimmied out of it, leaving her in a cream satin strapless bra and matching thong covered in tiny red poppies. What else?
“Snap.” He picked up one of the poppies off the bed and brushed it over one breast, covering her right nipple.
She moaned and came up into a kneeling position. “Great minds think alike.”
He unhooked her bra as she slid his belt free. He hooked his thumbs under the elastic of her thong and wiggled it down as she eased his boxers over his straining erection.
He gritted his teeth when she enclosed him in her fist. And pulled. Gently.
His head fell back on a groan as she increased the pressure. Blindly, he reached out, zeroing on her slick heat, circling her clit.
“Oooh…” Her appreciative murmur fired his blood and before things escalated too far, too fast, he stilled her hand and managed to flip her onto her back in a smooth move that left her gasping.
“Talented and acrobatic. I like,” she said, staring up at him from beneath lowered lashes.
“If that impressed you, wait ‘til you see what’s coming up.” He knelt on the floor, slid his hands behind her knees, and tugged her toward him. He splayed her legs, opening her to him. He tongued her, savoring her small sighs and soft yelps as he eased a finger into her wetness.
It nearly killed him, taking it slow, but she was so responsive, so beautiful. When her hands delved into his hair and held him to her, only then did he pick up the pace, and she shattered on the third swirl of his tongue, screaming his name.
Then she raised her head. Their gazes locked. And he experienced something he’d never had in all his past sexual encounters.
A connection.
A connection that went beyond the physical, the type of unspoken link that needed no words yet spoke volumes.
A connection that scared the shit out of him.