One More Night(27)

He took his time kissing her, his lips lingering on hers, savoring her mouth, lapping at her tongue. She moaned softly, and he broke the kiss. “Always,” he added. He ran his hand down the fabric of her blouse and she shivered against him.

“God, you make me feel so good. Everything you do turns me on, Clay. When you tell me you want to fuck me it turns me on, and when you tell me you love me, it turns me on,” she said as the loud music pulsed around them, and club-goers danced on the balcony. But the lights were dim, the corner was dark, and he was all that mattered to her.

“I love you and I want to fuck you,” he said as his fingers skipped past her belly and down the front of her skirt.

“Mmmm,” she murmured, a thrill racing through her, and turning into heat between her legs. “Like that. That turned me on.”

“Let me check,” he said, slinking his hand up the inside of her thigh, and flicking it once against the cotton panel of her panties.

“Oh God,” she gasped even as he took his touch away.

“You love being touched, don’t you,” he said, and it wasn’t a question. It was the full truth.

“By you. Touch me more, please,” she said, her voice shaky with want. She felt like she’d disintegrate if he didn’t touch her right now.

“I will, but I don’t want anyone seeing you getting so aroused, so you need to stay here and keep your eyes on the balcony. My body will hide you,” he told her, as he kept her caged in with his broad chest, strong arms, and his height, like a protective shield covering up her desire, keeping it in a precious cocoon. Even though they were in public, surrounded by drinkers and dancers, she felt like they were all alone: the two of them, shrouded in the way they felt.

His fingers returned to her panties, and this time he slid them down the front of her underwear, his finger brushing over her clit.

“I want to tell you all the things I love about your pussy, Julia,” he whispered hotly as he stroked her clit, his other hand keeping a firm grip on her hip.

“Tell me,” she said, her voice so desperate, her need for him so unbelievably high. She felt as if she might combust, rocket on out of here from the way he stroked her. Masterfully. This was no stranger’s touch. This was a lover’s touch. The touch of a man who knew, who had studied, who’d listened, who’d taken his time and learned everything that pleased his woman and then some.

“These are the things I love. How when I first slip my hand inside your panties I find that wet spot on the cotton panel that tells me you’re hot for me,” he said, sliding his fingers across her. “Like right now, and then when I first touch your pussy, you’re already wet all over, with my favorite lubricant—your desire.” She shut her eyes, and was starting to see stars. She began to rock gently against his hand, and he let her. He didn’t try to stop her movements because she kept them subtle enough. “And you’re so sleek and soft on the outside, and hot on the inside,” he said, sliding a finger inside to demonstrate. She hitched in a breath as he continued his ode to her pussy. “And your panties get so wet they’re useless.”

Another gasp. Another sharp inhale. A moan stifled in her throat.

“I love that I do this to you,” he said, circling her clit faster with the pad of his thumb, thrusting his index finger in and out. “That you’re wetter now than the night I met you, that I can still whisper in your ear, and tell you all the things I want to do to your sweet, delicious, perfect pussy and it still makes you quiver in my arms,” he said against her neck, layering a hard kiss on her skin as he continued lavishing attention between her legs. “And I love that as I move my fingers, and slide them over you and in you, and on that fucking fantastic clit, I can feel your wetness all over my hand.”

Her belly tightened, and the walls inside her felt like they were about to come tumbling down. She grew wetter, hotter, and she could feel her arousal dampen his hand. She bit back a cry.

“Just like that. I can feel more of you right now, Julia. I love that as you get more and more turned on, it feels like you’re gushing on me.”

“I am,” she whispered breathily, the whole world behind her eyelids like hot flashing light as pulses of pleasure spread through her body.

“When I watch you touch yourself, I can literally see your desire for me,” he said, his finger plunging deeper, his thumb swirling faster against her aching, throbbing clit. “And when I bury my face between your legs, I feel like I’m drinking you, and I can’t get enough.”

Involuntarily, she started rocking into his hand, and panting—panting so fucking hard as her orgasm took hold, and she desperately wanted to shout. She pressed her teeth into her bottom lip, and immediately he clasped his hand over her mouth. “Cry out in my hand. I’m the only one who can hear you,” he said in her ear, the music in the club keeping their secret.