He took a quick look at the hot, wet center of her. Before she could feel bashful about such blatant appraisal, his gaze turned predatory, and she felt herself growing hotter and wetter still.
“Your sweet pussy is just a shade darker.” His accent turned the last word into dahkah. “I think rose pink is my new favorite color.” Cahlah.
Before she could sputter a response, he reclaimed her lips in a kiss that had her forgetting how badly she wanted to touch him. Instead, she dug her nails into the hard, corded brawn of his shoulders and held on for dear life as his mouth consumed hers and his busy, busy hands brushed and teased and squeezed. He found curves and valleys she didn’t even know she possessed.
Just when she thought he’d touch her where she most wanted to be touched, where she most needed to be touched, he stopped. She barely refrained from screaming in frustration.
Opening her eyes, she needed a while to focus. She was dazed and confused by the thrum of unrequited need. But when she was able to focus, she found him watching her intently. “What curse?”
“Huh?” She blinked in confusion.
“You said your curse didn’t work. What curse?”
“I know I’m new at this, but is there usually this much talking?”
He hitched a shoulder. “We’re taking things slow, so I don’t see any harm in continuing our conversation. What curse?”
“The one I wished on your penis.” She ran one finger over his nipple, delighting when goose bumps broke out across his skin. “Well, it was more of a pox than a curse really.” She used the side of her thumbnail to press into the center of the flat, brown disk, and he hissed her name.
Lifting her head, she sucked his nipple into her mouth and he palmed the back of her head, holding her to him. Instinct had her reaching down to fist her hand around his unimaginable hardness. The instant she did, he groaned.
The sound was barbaric. Crude. And completely beautiful to her.
Unfortunately, all too soon, he gripped her wrist and pulled her hand away. At the same time, he forced her flat against the blanket.
Her mouth immediately missed the taste of him. Her fingers immediately missed the feel of him. All that soft, silky flesh encasing a thick rod of tempered steel.
“Ugh.” She pouted up at him. “More talking?”
“Why’d you put a pox on my penis?” There was something more than curiosity in his eyes. He looked very serious all of a sudden.
“Well…” She twisted her lips. “The first time was because you refused to use it on me. And the second time was because I found out you were using it on Donna.”
When she tried to wrench her wrist from his grasp, he tightened his grip. She blinked at him. “What now?”
“Sorry, Alex.” Regret shadowed his eyes. “Never meant to—”
Using her free hand, she shoved a finger over his lips. Those gorgeous lips that should be doing unspeakable things to her instead of, you know, speaking. “How about you make it up to me by getting this show on the road?”
Her words must’ve pleased him. Because a second later, he sucked her finger into his mouth and laved it with his tongue. Then, he claimed her lips and gently palmed her breast, rolling her nipple between his fingers until she gasped with pleasure.
She tried to fist his turgid length again, and again he manacled her wrist to stop her. “Waist up, woman,” he grumbled against her mouth. “You got free range there but nowhere else.”
“Fine,” she muttered, “but please don’t think you’re restricted to the same area with me.”
His answer was a low growl and a return to what he’d been doing.
He used his lips and teeth and tongue and hands on every inch of her. Each part of her seemed to hold some sort of fascination for him, and he took his time exploring. Thoroughly. Very, very thoroughly until his warm, callused palm splayed over her lower belly.
If he didn’t ease her exquisite misery soon, she was going to do it herself. It was too much. She couldn’t take any more.
Just when she was about to reach down to touch herself, the wonderful, talented man placed the heel of his palm directly over the spot where she needed it most. Then he curled his fingers around her. “Fuck me, you’re wet. And your little clit is so swollen and hard.”
At that point, she could do little more than whimper. When he dragged his hand up and down in a dirty grind, she couldn’t even manage that. She was no longer a human woman. She was a wanton mass of flesh and blood and screaming nerve endings.
She was her clitoris. It was where she began and ended. And just when she thought it couldn’t get better, it did.
He slipped a thick finger inside her and pumped twice before adding a second. Now, along with the jangling of the nerve bundle at the top of her sex, she was deliciously full. Wonderfully stretched. That void at her center mercifully filled.
His tongue stroked into her mouth in a rhythm to match the advance and retreat of his fingers. Then he wiggled them in a come-hither motion, and she disintegrated.
That was the only way to describe it.
She blew into a million pieces and every single one of them pulsed with delight. Over and over and over again. Throbbing. Tumbling. Expanding. Retracting.
She was pleasure. She was pain. She was the universe and she was an atom. Whole in a way she’d never been before and yet nothing at all save for a jumble of exquisite, raw satisfaction.
She couldn’t say how much time passed. It could’ve been ten minutes or ten seconds. But eventually her spasms were reduced to shivers. And she thought she heard him say, “That’s one.”
One what?
She didn’t know. She didn’t care. She was too busy basking in the aftereffects of a glorious release.
“Alex?” He rubbed a knuckle down her cheek, coaxing her eyes open. She blinked twice because she’d gone cross-eyed.
“Sorry.” She cleared her throat. “Difficult to talk. Vocal cords and body paralyzed by orgasm.”
His expression was bemused. “Are they, now? And just think, that’s only the first one. How will you feel after the next?”
When she replied, “Can’t wait to find out,” he chuckled and she became acutely aware of the length of him against her hip. He was weighty and thick.
“Can I venture below the belt now?” she asked when he nuzzled her cheek. Her ear. His breath hot and wickedly moist over her flesh.
“No.” He tongued her earlobe.
“Why not?” She pouted. “When’s it going to be my turn?”
He nipped at her collarbone. Her nipples seemed to think he was headed their direction, because they sat up and started trying to get his attention.