Again, her mouth disappeared, this time with the lowering of her body too fast to be considered anything but desperate. As if she needed me, every inch of me, for herself. A tug of my pants, and they slid down my thighs, one hand still clutching my shaft, angling it toward her lips—I could feel her breath against my crown, a pulse of desire flexing through me at the sensation. Anticipation was thick, my hands smoothing her hair, sweeping it over her shoulder, gathering it in my fist to keep it out of the way. Without sight, I waited with anxious breath tight in my lungs for the moment of contact. But the truth of the feeling was beyond my imagination—a wet, warm taste. The flat of her tongue in the ridge of my crown. The very tip of me in the humid chamber of her mouth before it closed around me. And when I could breathe again, it was with a shaky sigh.
My senses exploded, raw and attuned and humming. The hot hollow of her mouth, the feel of her tongue, the soft pull of suction, her hand fisted at my base, shifting in time to the motion of her neck. Her silky hair in my hand, the curve of her neck under my palm, the line of her jaw against my thumb. The sound of her breath and of mine, the wet kiss of her mouth, the hum from deep in her throat, an answering hum of my own.
It was an eternity. It was a heartbeat. And I would wait for her no longer.
With a flex, I retreated, surprising a gasp out of her. I urged her to stand with my hands on her face, taking her lips the second I could find them in the darkness. Tasted the salt of my body until it mingled into the taste of us. Threaded an arm around her waist, moving blindly for the bed. Delicately, I laid her down, slipping my thigh between hers to pin her hips. But they wouldn’t stay still whether I desired it or not, shifting slow circles and waves to use the weight of my body to apply pressure where she wanted it, needed it. I propped on my elbow, my free hand worked her clothes, and her hands joined the task. First the suit coat, shrugged off and disappearing into the void of blackness. Then the small buttons of her shirt, too dainty for my big, clumsy fingers. I kissed her as she made easy work of them, taking the opportunity to unbutton her pants, to slip my fingers into the space between her hip and the fabric, to drag them over the swell and down her thighs. With a shimmy, they were gone, as was her shirt. And on inspection by my hungry hands, her bra was gone too.
Naked before me in the utter darkness. Filling my palm with soft flesh. Breathing her breath, the drum of her heart against my fingertips.
My lips parted with hers in favor of her jaw. Her neck. The hollow of her throat. Her breast in my palm, tight peak brushing my lips. A flick of my tongue. Then a sweep. Then a deep draw. A sigh, her fingers in my hair as I paid my homage to her body by way of her breasts. Down the valley of her breastbone. Over the soft swell of her stomach.
I spread her legs, settled my chest between them, found her heat first with my fingertips, then with my tongue, the taste, the sweetness of her flooding me with desire. My tongue did the job that my cock wanted, but with more finesse, a long, languid lapping. A silken, scandalous sucking. A shift of my face, never releasing my latch, a draw of my tongue that set her thighs trembling against my shoulders and back arching. A tightening of her body around my finger. Another, with a shift of her hips into my mouth. A sharp gasp, the lock of her body for a single, frozen moment, and she came with a hot burst and a galloping pulse from the very depths of her.
Swiftly, before she came down, I climbed up to meet her. And knowing, she reached for me, made room for me, room that I filled with my body, pressing her into the bed, slipping into her with a flex and a sigh of relief. As if I had been waiting for this moment always. As if this was the place I was most right. Stripped bare and laid before her, plain as day in the darkest of night.
A roll of my hips, and she pulsed around me. Another thrust, teasing her orgasm, coaxing it to life again. The embers flamed with a cry from her lips, the sound stoking the fire in me. My name. She whispered my name, the sound dissolving into a moan as my awareness slipped away, drawing toward the place where our bodies met. Unbound, without control, my restraint falling away like shackles, I slammed into her, my body curling around her, holding her in place, where she belonged. With me.
The orgasm shuddered through me, quaking and trembling as my hips and hands and outstretched neck acted on their own, the reins gone and my pleasure careening away.
I sagged, burying my face in the curve of her neck as her arms wound around mine, her breath noisy in my ear and mine smothered by her skin, which I kissed with devoted tenderness. Our bodies were locked in a twist of limbs and necks and hands, and though our bodies languished, we didn’t let go.
We couldn’t let go.
And I foolishly hoped we’d never have to.
21
Biohazard
LILA
Morning came too soon.
A sliver of daylight carved its name on the wall, the only light to enter the room since yesterday, I supposed. Even though it was the slimmest illumination, it seemed to touch every corner of the room. After so much darkness, the light almost blazed, casting a halo on his sleeping profile. The strong nose, flat ridge. The angle and swell of his lips. The jaw made of stone, his chest made of brick. Sheets twisted around his narrow waist, the fabric thin enough to make out the shape of his hips and corded muscles of his legs, as well as the bulge that made my thighs clench around its ghost.
He woke with a noisy intake of breath through his nose and a simultaneous shift to his side, arm stretching out to hook my waist and pull me into his chest. And I curled into him, smiling at nothing, covering his hand with my own.
His lips brushed my bare shoulder. “Morning.”
I hummed like a cat in the sun. “Can it be night again?”
A chuckle as he nosed my hair from my neck and kissed me again. “In about nine hours, it sure can.”
My day would be long, and I didn’t want to do any of it. Not the paperwork or dealing with Addison or putting the finishing touches on Angelika’s wedding. Two weeks, and this whole ordeal would be over. I hoped last night would be the worst of it, that abominable birthday party plaguing my calendar for weeks. Now there was only one thing left to do—I’d get through this wedding, make it the best goddamn event the Felixes had ever seen, and be on my merry way.
“That bad?” Kash asked. I could hear him smirking.
“What gave it away?” I turned around in his arms, our legs scissoring together.
“You sighed.”
“Did I?”
“It’s how I know you’re worrying over something. You’ll sigh in forty-five-second intervals until I distract you.”
A smile pulled at my lips. “Well, you’ve always said you were an excellent distraction. How lucky am I that you’re mine?”
“Yours,” he said, testing the word. “I think I like that.”
“I think I do too.”
I angled for his lips, and he met me halfway, as he always did.
I only let myself get a little carried away before I slid out of bed, heading for the bathroom.
A long, slow whistle sounded at my back. When I turned, Kash was propped up on one arm, head on his hammer fist.
“Now, that is a sight I’ll be thinking about all day.”
As my gaze swept over his visage, I said, “You and me both.” And with a promising smile, I turned and strutted away.