His legs turned to water and, not wanting to drop her, he moved forward, sitting her on the bureau. Her legs remained around him, the juncture of her body pressed enticingly against his groin. They kissed, over and over, touched, explored each other’s bodies in hungry greed.
Blake undid the back clasp of her bra, freeing her breasts, taking a taut nipple into his mouth.
“Oh, Blake, that feels good. So good,” she moaned, arching her spine toward him.
“It’s going to feel better.”
“Promise me you won’t stop,” she begged, her hands cupping his face, forcing him to look at her. “Ever.”
“I’m not stopping, Darby. Not tonight. Not ever.” Why would she think he’d stop? “Unless this isn’t what you want?”
“You are what I want.”
He’d never heard sweeter words. A rumble caught in his throat, emerging as a low growl. “As long as you want me, I’m yours.”
Darby couldn’t believe how bold she was. Blake might have been right when he’d said she was drunk. She certainly felt light-headed, intoxicated. Intoxicated, but amazingly powerfully feminine at the same time.
Blake’s body responded to every caress of her fingers, to even the lightest touch of her mouth against his flesh.
Never had she imagined a man could be so in tune with her thoughts, her body, her desires. Never had she imagined she’d be so able to read how her touch made his skin burn, how her mouth triggered heat deep in his gut.
Knowing Blake wanted her as much as she wanted him was the most amazing feeling of her life.
He scooped her into his arms, carried her to the bed, and jerked the comforter back. He laid her down, kissed her, removed a condom packet from his wallet, and shed his pants with lightning speed.
She’d been right. He was beautiful.
“I want to make this good for you.”
Didn’t he know that as long as it was he who touched her, this would be good?
He unhooked her garters, slid her panties from her hips, pausing to kiss her thighs, her knees. Careful not to tangle the material on her heels, he pulled the scraps of black silk free from her body, then kissed her again. All over.
Holy smoke. How could a kiss light so many fires?
Fires that raged burning hot. How could his fingers trailing over the same places cause such tingling? Such liquid heat at her very center?
He was torturing her with his slow touches, his purposeful seduction of her senses. She wante
d him. Inside her. Making her whole.
Pulling on his shoulders, she tugged him to her, locked her mouth with his, rotated her hips beneath him in a seductive rhythm. His body matched it, grinding against her, above her, pinning her beneath him, pressing her into the bed.
He slipped on a condom. Then he was filling her, breaking every barrier, stretching her body to accommodate his girth.
She muffled her cry of pain into the curve of his neck, dug her fingers into his shoulders, and prayed he didn’t notice.
“Darby,” he groaned, staring down at her with concern in his black eyes. “You weren’t really a virgin, were you?”
“I’m not a virgin,” she promised, not wanting him to stop, afraid he would. Afraid she wouldn’t feel the ultimate pleasure his kisses, his fingers had promised would be hers with their consummation. She raised her hips, taking him deeper, moving her body against him, feeling pain give way to the pleasure she sought, welcoming the electricity spreading through her inner thighs.
She hadn’t lied. She wasn’t a virgin.
Not anymore.
Darby’s head throbbed, her eyes burned, and her muscles screamed in protest at the night’s activities. Her lips felt bruised, and she’d tossed her head back and forth to the point she’d never get the tangles from her hair.
Still, she smiled as she stretched.