The breath let loose from his chest, and arousal hit and grabbed him in a death grip. His balls tightened at her calm power. “Wrong. We play my way, or I leave. I’m not kidding, Sawyer. Think carefully before you decide.”
Holy shit, her demand touched his skin with pure flame.
He studied her face, looked into her eyes, and realized something else was going on, something he didn’t know and didn’t want to find out. He opened his mouth to call it off, but her hand did some magic stroking, and he shuddered helplessly.
Sawyer slid his arms over his head and grasped the rails.
She purred like a cat and all that silky skin poured over him like warm sticky honey. He’d play her game for a few, then wrest back control when she was too far gone.
Confident in his plan, he enjoyed the shift of her body and the clench of her thighs as she adjusted herself over him.
He waited for the ease of foreplay, the glide of her mouth over his, the stroke of her hands on his body.
Instead, she lowered her mouth and took his shaft deep.
He bucked up at the sudden move and gritted his teeth.
Jesus, her tongue swirled around and licked with an exper-tise that made his eyes roll in the back of his head. Her hair spilled over his stomach and thighs, the strands sweeping and tickling his skin and wrapping him in a sensual cocoon.
Completely under her spell, his fingers tightened on the wooden spindles.
She demolished him. Her teeth scraped the underside of his length, while her fingers massaged his testicles. Deep moaning sounds from her mouth vibrated off his erection and tumbled through his body. He stretched to monstrous proportions until his skin was pulled so tight he didn’t think he could hold off any longer.
every stroke of her tongue and lips and teeth bespoke a pure giving of herself over to him. This was more than sex, more than a woman who wanted to receive pleasure. She continued to drive him toward orgasm at a heart-stopping pace he couldn’t seem to control.
He released his hold on the rails. “Wait. Baby, wait, let me—”
She lifted her head. “No.” Cocoa brown eyes seethed with arousal, lust, and a need that stripped him of any rights.
“Don’t make me punish you.” She reached up and cupped her br**sts, running her fingers over her tight ni**les, taunting him. “or you don’t get to touch me at all.”
The monster he’d created took charge. His body shut down his mind, and with a muttered curse, he returned to his original position. He feasted on the lush curves of her ass, the way the hall light played over her body, the delicious up and down motion of her mouth as she sucked him.
He hung on to his control with his last rasping breath, but it didn’t stop, never stopped. She kissed every part of him, his legs, hips, stomach. Moved up his chest to play with his ni**les while her hands massaged and rubbed his erection, keeping him iron hard. When she finally reached his mouth, he was starved for her taste. She nibbled his bottom lip, running her tongue lightly over the seam, until he groaned and opened for her.
She dove in, claiming him as he’d claimed her endless nights, knowing he was completely at her mercy. She tasted of sweet chocolate, crisp mint, a touch of Kalúha. Her musky arousal assaulted his nostrils and made him crazed for more. His fingers gripped with all his strength until he was afraid the posts would snap in two.
“you taste so good. Feel so good,” she breathed against him, diving in deep with her tongue. “I’ll never get enough of you.”
Time to finish. He eased his hold and got ready to take what was his.
But she sensed his shift and slid down his body in one graceful motion. Parted her legs. And buried him to the hilt inside her.
He cried out. Her silky, wet channel clenched around him and squeezed tight. She adjusted her position, shimmy-ing her hips as she took control and began easing up and down on top of him. Within pleasure, a glimmer of fear took root in his gut. He fought for rational thought and began to flip her over.
“No.” Her eyes were wild, her lips soft and slightly bruised. “Let me do this. Let me love you.”
The words stung like wasps. He lost his breath. “Don’t.”
She arched, and ripples of pleasure shot down his dick.
“Julietta, please.”
“Let go. Just this once.”
She didn’t wait for his response. She rode him hard and wild and deep. His need to come, to give to her, roared up and washed away the last of his control. He watched her as she neared the edge, held herself there, her fingers digging into his hips, hair streaming down her back, face completely open to him.
“Tell me you belong to me.”
Her demand singed his nerves. Sawyer gritted his teeth, and the orgasm shimmered before him in all its haunting glory. “I belong to you.”
“Come for me, Sawyer.”
With a shout, he let go. His seed shot inside of her, but she never stopped the frantic pounding rhythm. She drenched him with her own climax, and aftershocks of pleasure hit and convulsed his body. The orgasm went on and on with so much intensity it blurred into pain. Sawyer took it all, humbled by her beauty, and a wave of emotion washed over him in violent splendor.
Her body folded over. Her br**sts pressed into his chest, and he stroked back her damp hair. She gave him the words in the darkness with no hesitation.
“I love you, Sawyer. This is more than sex. More than business or companionship or something on paper. This is about how I feel when I look at you. About the way you protect Wolfe, and how you respect me, and how you make me a better person. A whole person. It’s about the man I see every day. I believe he has everything to give; he’s just afraid to take it. I’m not going to be afraid anymore. I’m going to be brave enough for both of us.”
The stunning words crashed through his barriers and pierced his heart. His thoughts whirled in a jumbled mass of confusion and need and fear he’d never experienced.
Unable to speak, unable to do anything but breathe and remain frozen, Sawyer did nothing.
A while later, she fell asleep, never asking for his an-swer.
Chapter Sixteen
Two days later, Sawyer punched the button for the inter-com. “Is Wolfe back yet?”
His secretary’s voice came out crisp and sharp. “He just arrived, Mr. Wells. Should I send him in?”
“Please.”
He pushed back from his chair and paced his inner sanctum, stopping by the few erotic pieces he displayed on the wall. He’d begun to notice his new wife had a touch of oCD and constantly needed to straighten paintings, pic-tures, or knickknacks to a perfect line. especially when she was stressed. It was another tic he enjoyed getting to know about her.