“You can walk away if it’s not what you want, but you’ll have my soul wrapped around you forever. No matter where you go, what you do, or who you love, Emily. You’ll always be a part of me.”
Her lips parted as a weight that filled her soul seemed to lift from it.
“The boy that I was loved Tansy,” he whispered then. “The man I am is bound to you, Emily. The thought of losing you has me tied into so many knots I left a meeting downstairs with your father to make certain you were safe. To see for myself. To touch you. God help me, to just touch you.”
His hands slid around to cup her face, to hold her in place as his lips lowered to breathe a kiss over hers.
“I remember the sight of those stockings beneath that dress,” he growled. “Weapons strapped to your thighs, and I thought I was going to come in my dress uniform. My cock has only gotten harder tonight, Emily. I’ve only grown hungrier.”
Her hands covered his, her gaze searching his as erotic pleasure began to tingle through her bloodstream. He lowered his forehead to hers and stared back at her with that damned sexy quirk to his lips.
“I should be downstairs. I should be plotting and planning. Instead, I’m torturing myself with the scent of you, the remembered taste of you.”
“Don’t leave me,” she whispered. “Stay.”
“Leave you?” His thumbs smoothed over her cheekbones. “Emily, it’s all I can do to think when I’m around you. Leaving you would tear the soul from my body.”
Before she could find the words to speak, to make sense of the emotions suddenly flooding through her, his arm lowered, slid around her hips then jerked her close, angling her body so his cock pressed against the aching mound of her pussy.
Her lips parted. A hard breath tore from her lungs at the heat and anticipation that rioted through her.
“I need you. Now.” His voice was a sexy rumble of erotic heat.
Emily could feel the desperation in him, the steel core of determination as he lifted her closer, drawing her off her feet, and turning her, only to back her into the wall.
His lips covered hers, his tongue sliding past them to devour the need that rose inside her. It shouldn’t be so good. She was angry with him. She was mesmerized by him. The taste of his kiss was as wild as the wind, his hands a force of nature as the skirt of her gown suddenly cleared her thighs.
She had disposed of the weapons, but she still wore the stockings. Stockings that slid over his thighs as he drew her up and her legs wrapped around his hips.
“Yeah. Like that.” He groaned, his hand making short work of the snap and zipper of his pants, pushing them to his thighs as the engorged length of his cock slid free.
He was hard. Thick. Hot.
The sound of a foil pack tearing barely caught her attention; the knowledge that he was sheathing the heavy erection with a condom brought an edge of regret. But it lasted for only a second.
Silk covering iron and suddenly plunging forcefully inside her as his lips caught her scream of incredible, ecstatic pleasure.
She could feel the heavy wedge of flesh stretching her pussy, the fiery ache of the penetration blending with the sensitivity of suddenly exposed nerve endings and clenching tissue.
“Sweet God, you’re tight,” he snarled. “I could die happy fucking you, Emily. Buried inside you. Just like this.”
His hips jerked, drawing another desperate cry from her lips, as the zipper at her back suddenly loosened and he drew her breasts free of the silk covering them.
“Perfect nipples.” His tongue stroked over one then the other as a heavy thrust inside her had her fighting for purchase, both physically and emotionally.
“Sweet tight nipples. A perfect innocent pink and hard as ripe, sun-drenched berries.” His lips covered a peak, drew it inside then began to suck with deep, heavy draws as his hips set a hard, driving rhythm between her thighs.
“Sweet Emily.” The accent was back. “Ah chère, hold me tight. Just so, bébé.”
She whimpered as her legs tightened around his waist, feeling his hands palm her rear, fingers clenching in the mounds as he shoved inside her, hard and deep.
She was so wet her thighs were growing damp. So close to climax she could feel it peaking, swelling her clit, burning in her womb, only to have him ease. His thrusts grew gentler as she writhed against him.
“Don’t tease,” she cried out, her hands gripping his shoulders, her nails pressing into his flesh.
“No tease,” he gritted out. “Sweet chère. Let me feel you. So tight and sweet on my dick. Sucking so sweetly at me.”
Her breath caught as the air became saturated with the scent and the sound of sex, of pleasure. His erotic, explicit words shocked and titillated. They pulled at the eroticism rising inside her and fed the hunger that only he could sate.