She whispered the silent prayer in her head as her heartbeat sped up to dizzying speeds. If one night was all she could risk with this man, she intended to make the most of it.
‘I’m feeling kind of underdressed here,’ he murmured.
She laughed at the wry note as his hand skimmed over her shoulder. He propped himself up to lean over her and she heard the sibilant crackle of the zip releasing. The bodice of the dress drooped and he nudged down the straps, revealing the pink lace of her bra.
‘Cute,’ he murmured, amused, and she huffed out another chuckle. She certainly didn’t feel like a puppy dog any more.
‘I thought I told you not to call me that.’
He tumbled her back onto the bed, straddling her before his hands swept down her body peeling the dress down to her waist. ‘And I thought I told you not to talk.’
She wriggled but he held her still, hoisting her arms above her head, then pinned her wrists to the bed in one hand as he bent to press his lips to her collarbone. The trail of kisses dipped to her breasts, and he teased the edge of her bra cup with the rough stroke of his tongue. Her cleavage heaved against the confining lace, her body bucking against his hold.
‘You like that, huh,’ he said, gruff and amused.
It didn’t sound like a question, but she answered anyway. ‘I’m not allowed to talk.’
The wicked grin had the fire igniting. ‘Now she remembers.’
He released her arms, but as soon as she dropped them sure, steady fingers slipped the bra straps off her shoulders, and her breasts spilled out. She moaned as he cupped the heavy flesh, flicked his thumb across the beaded nipple. He grappled quickly with the hook, stripped away the pink lace and moulded both breasts in his palms, then bent forward to take one straining nipple into his mouth.
She groaned, the sound deep and primal, as his lips suckled and the melting sensation became a hot, hard yank of need.
She arched into his mouth, her fingers clutching the bedspread, the riot of sensation new and overwhelming. How could so little make her feel so much?
He lifted his head, blew on the wet nipple, watching intently as it puckered even more. ‘Good?’
‘Hmm,’ she rasped, her throat dry.
His gaze stayed transfixed on her naked breasts. ‘They’re gorgeous,’ he said, and warmth flooded through her. ‘Especially when they’re begging for attention like that.’
Then the exquisite torture continued.
He licked at the areola, nipped and teased the tender tip, sending a new shockwave of need hurtling down to her core. Desire built as he feasted on first one breast then the other, the blinding pleasure warring with a foolish wave of gratitude. She felt powerful, important, irresistible, the need flooding between her thighs and making her sex ache. She curled her fingers into the short hair at the sides of his head, pulled his face up. The harsh look of arousal only made her more grateful. ‘That feels so good,’ she said. ‘Thank you.’
Lifting up, he took her chin in his fingers. The kiss was hard, fast and demanding. ‘You’re welcome, Iona. Now stop distracting me.’
She laughed, delighted with the strain in his voice. Then gasped as he turned his attention back to her breasts while knowing fingers slid up under her dress, the heel of his hand pressing against the mound of her sex.
She launched off the bed, the sudden contact shocking as he cupped her through the silk of her panties.
‘Easy, preciosa,’ he murmured, his thumb brushing against the tight bundle of nerves at her centre in deliberate circles.
She writhed, seeking the exquisite touch and yet scared of the force of her need.
She gripped his forearm. ‘Please…that’s…too—’ The words choked off on a sob as his fingers dipped beneath the gusset and found the hot wet heart of her.
Pleasure gripped like a silken fist, and her body bowed as his fingers played.
‘There?’ he asked as his sure, steady touch triggered a sharp, painfully exquisite sensation.
She nodded, cried out as he rubbed, circled, stroked her clitoris. Pleasure rippled and zapped across her skin in a billion sparkles of light—and then pulled hard. She sobbed, teetering on the high ledge for one tantalising second and then cried out—the cascade hurtling her over.
‘Oh. My. Goodness.’ Iona panted as she drifted back to full consciousness. Gradually she became aware of the cramp in her fingers as they dug into the sinews of his forearm, and the large, rough hand trapped down her knickers.
She released his arm instantly, worried she might have left bruises, and clamped her knees together as quickly and discreetly as possible.
He eased his hand out of her knickers, and grinned down at her as she shivered, still a little shocky from the strength of her climax.