He groaned and closed over one nipple, drawing with a sweet suction as he slid a hand into her panties and cupped her tender flesh.
His touch.
She’d tried not to think about it after that first night, but there was something so incredible about the way he’d handled her. Like he knew exactly what to do, what would feel the best, how she liked to be stroked, when to tease and when to give her what she was desperate for. So in those weak moments when her thoughts strayed, they’d strayed to this.
His fingers pressing between her slick folds, playing over her cleft. One thick digit working slowly inside her swollen, slick channel, then a second, stretching and filling her in a way that was so good, it made her beg for more, open her legs wider and tip her hips into his touch.
“Yes,” she gasped, head tossing against the pillow as pleasure rocketed through her center with each gentle thrust. The tremor of need built fast, gathering strength with each guttural bit of praise, encouragement and promise of more.
He drew her nipple into the wet heat of his mouth, suckling in a rhythm that matched the slow stroke of what then became three fingers.
“Oh, God! Jeff, please,” she panted. “Please! I need. I—”
Her pleas cut off as his thumb settled firmly at the top of her sex and—
“Come for me, Darcy.”
—her world came apart, sensation and tension from every extremity surging, together, crashing through her in wave after wave of pleasure that was sharp and sweet and hot and, as was so often the case with Jeff, like nothing she’d known before.
* * *
Holy. Hell.
Darcy was coming against his hand, the pleasure he wrung from her body more satisfying than if he was the one finding his release.
An hour ago, he’d been about ready to sell his soul to get some sleep, but now? He’d forgo sleep for the rest of his life if it meant more of the silky sound of Darcy moaning his name. Only the rest of his life wasn’t an option. What he had was tonight, and he wanted to make it last. Draw it out as long as possible. Give her what she wanted first. Then start in on what she needed. And after that, what he needed to give her.
One night.
Hell, the dull edge of that thought was nearly enough to yank him out of this perfect moment. But with so few precious hours available, he wasn’t going to waste them dwelling on the things he couldn’t have.
When the last of her tremors subsided and her body melted back into the mattress beneath her, Jeff backed down the bed, peeling her panties off in the process. Then coming back up, he pressed a kiss against her sex, earning himself another pleasured gasp and Darcy’s full attention.
Pushing to her elbows, she stared down the length of her body at him. And damn, he’d never seen anything like it before. The silk of her long blond hair hung in a sexy tumble around her face and past her shoulders. Her eyes were all bedroom, slumberous and sated while somehow asking for more. Her lips parted and kiss swollen in a way that had him fighting about a dozen depraved impulses at once. Her belly softly rounded. And her breasts—
God help him, he should have finished what he started in taking off her bra, but some primal part of him was seriously getting off on the tight, peaked bounty of ripe flesh, overflowing the lace constraint he’d only managed to pull partially out of his way.
Darcy seemed to have noticed where his attention had been snared, too, because she glanced down at herself and then arched a questioning brow at him.