He groaned with approval against her mouth as she freed him from his underwear. She shaped him with her fingers first, getting to know the feel, length and weight of him. Then she started rubbing up and down his silky shaft, registering every guttural sound he made, delighting in every flinch or movement of pleasure he made. She felt the beading of his pre-ejaculatory moisture and rolled it around the head of his penis, inciting him, urging him on. Daring him. Wanting him. Aching for him.
He was on his own sensual mission to get her naked. Her knickers were soon dispensed with and she had barely stepped away from the tiny circle of them when his fingers found her hot wetness. She gasped as he slipped them inside her; it was the sweetest torture to have him but not have him quite the way she wanted him. She moved against the blissful friction, making throaty little pleas against his plundering mouth.
‘Condom.’ The word sounded like it was wrung out of him.
‘Have you got one?’ Dumb question. He probably had hundreds on him. Maybe even thousands. He probably had his own insignia on them.
‘In my back pocket.’ He walked her backwards further into the suite, his mouth still fused to hers as his hand searched for the protection in the pocket of his jeans.
Angelique took the foil packet off him and saw to the business end of things. She tried not to fumble in her haste but her hands were shaking in anticipation. For most of her adult life she had dreamed and fantasised about feeling this level of lust.
It was overpowering.
Totally consuming.
Unstoppable.
It was as if every nerve in her body was standing up on its tiptoes and screaming out for release. Now! Now! Now!
It made every single encounter she had had—not that there had been many—pale in comparison.
‘You are so damn hot and wet and ready for me,’ he said as he tumbled with her onto the king-sized bed in a sexy tangle of limbs.
‘Yes.’ One word was all she could manage. Her heart was racing, her blood pumping and her flesh tingling as he came over her with his weight.
He hitched up one of her legs over his hip and entered her so deeply she cried out as his thickened flesh stretched hers to capacity. He immediately stilled and looked down at her with a frown knitting his brows together. ‘Am I rushing you?’
Angelique let out a little breath. ‘No... Sorry, I’m a bit out of practice. It’s been a while.’
His dark eyes searched hers. ‘How long?’
‘A few weeks... Months...’
His gaze was still locked on hers. ‘Months?’
‘OK, a year...and a bit. Two, actually...’
‘But the press...’
‘Get it wrong occasionally.’
His frown was still tugging at his forehead like stitches being pulled beneath the skin. ‘Why do you let people say all that stuff about you when it isn’t true?’
Angelique stroked a finger down his sternum, focusing on its journey rather than staying connected with his gaze. ‘I don’t care what people think. I know what’s true. That’s all that matters to me.’
‘Stop distracting me.’ He captured her hand and held it firmly in the cage of his. ‘I want to talk to you.’
She couldn’t help an exaggerated little eye-roll. ‘I bet that’s what you say to all the girls.’
His frown deepened. ‘Will you stop it, for God’s sake? I’m trying to have a sensible conversation with you.’
‘While your body is doing what it’s doing to mine?’ Angelique writhed beneath him. ‘Can’t you feel that?’
He bit back a curse and moved within her. Deeply. Roughly. Urgently. ‘I can’t stop myself from wanting you. I hate myself for it.’
She grabbed at his buttocks and dug her fingers in to hold him in place. ‘I hate myself for it too. I hate you for it. For how you make me feel.’
His mouth curved in an indolent smile. ‘How do I make you feel?’