Barely able to hear her over the blood roaring loudly in his ears, he hooked his thumbs into the side straps of her underwear and pulled them down just a little bit.
Leaving her panties covering her labia—Jesus, he'd never teased himself with a naked woman like this, never wanted to reveal her as if she were his very last Christmas present ever so he had to make it last and last—he slid one hand around to cup her ass, while the other began its descent down into the top of the damp yellow fabric.
His four fingers covered her neatly trimmed, soft pubic hair, damp from her arousal and the intense heat of her body. As slowly as he could, wanting to savor every single moment, he slid his hand lower, until his fingers were barely covering her clit.
He heard the breath leave her body in a soft gasp, felt her hands come to the tops of his shoulders to hold herself steady.
He held his hand there, just over the top of her swollen nub and it was as if her heart had stopped beating in her chest and was now only beating between her legs. One after the other he felt the hard thud of her heartbeat through her clitoris on his fingertips. The slick arousal seeping against the tips of his fingers gave proof to the intensity of her desire.
Sweet lord, he never wanted to forget this moment when he'd touched her for the first time. For so many years he'd pushed this urge away, had tried to deny how much he wanted her. But so many nights, she'd been there in his dreams.
Just like this, only imagination instead of flesh and blood woman.
He lifted his gaze to her face and what he saw in her face rocked him to the core. Her eyes were closed and she was flushed with pleasure. He'd never seen anything as beautiful as Janica looked right then.
But more than anything else, he was struck by how right she looked standing there, nearly naked.
In his arms.
Panic slithered beneath his skin. What was he doing, feeling so much? He'd come to bash down his demons for one night, to lose himself in her body. Not to fall in-
Shit. No. He had to get back on track. Had to keep his focus on her body. On his throbbing cock.
Not on either of their hearts.
He began to move his hand again, one slow centimeter at a time, further down her labia. She was soaking wet and so obviously sensitive to his touch that although she wasn't speaking any distinct words, he could hear her giving soft voice to her pleasure above him, one continuous low moan of ecstasy.
Suddenly, an image flashed into his head. It was so clear, so powerful, and so certain to keep him focused on sex and only sex, that even as the thought came that it wasn't fair for him to use her like this, that she hadn't ever asked him to come into her home and use her as his sexual plaything, he was yanking her panties down to her knees, and shoving her thighs open as wide as they would go with her legs still bound by the thin yellow fabric.
A heartbeat later, he had his mouth on her clit and two fingers inside her slick canal.
His cock throbbed hard once, then twice, and he thought he just might come right then and there. He'd never loved the taste of a woman more. She tasted like sugar and honey. Like heaven, even as he knew the hard thrust of his fingers inside her was going to send him straight to hell.
Her body relaxed and opened up to him even more as he laved her clit with his tongue in rough strokes before sucking it firmly with his tongue, her hands moving into his hair as she pressed her hips harder against his mouth. And then he could feel her vaginal muscles begin to tighten and clench around his fingers, could measure the heavy weight of her clitoris against his tongue, and knew she was about to come.
More than anything, he wanted to take her over the edge. He wanted to be there with her when she cried out. Wanted to hear his name on her lips and know that he had made her feel better than anyone else ever had.
Shit. What the hell was he doing? He'd come here for simple pleasure, to take what Janica clearly gave so freely to everyone else, and had ended up on his knees in front of her.
With nothing more than a kiss, she'd made him a slave to her pleasure instead of his own.
It nearly killed him to force himself to abruptly move away from her and stand up.
Her eyes flew open and her legs trembled hard enough for her to stumble back onto the couch.
“Luke, what—”
“You're not ready yet. But I am.”
She looked shocked by the words coming out of his mouth. Even as he undid his belt buckle, he felt the tug of something in his gut, a twinge that told him he was being a complete asshole, and that she didn't deserve it.
He'd always been a considerate lover, was always gentle, careful to make sure he took care of his partner's pleasure first. But tonight he wanted to know—needed to know—what it was like to have a hot, talented mouth on his cock make him come first. Before his lover.
A lover who was so ripe with arousal that she would do anything, absolutely anything he asked.
Even if he had no damn right to ask it.
Even if he was being driven by all the all wrong reasons.