“I am going to let go of you, but I want you to keep your hands right here. I am in the mood to do some exploring. I would very much like to know every inch of you intimately.” He kissed the sweet curve of her breast. “Will you do that for me? I need this, Trixie.”
His voice had gone raw. Pure sex. Sinful sex. A temptation she knew she should avoid, but she couldn’t resist. Keeping her eyes on his, she nodded.
“Watch my hands. My mouth. See the beauty I see. Your body is the most beautiful thing in the world. Mine. A treasure I will cherish for all time.”
He said things she was fairly certain most men would never say to a woman, and his words matched their song. He kissed his way across the soft upper curves of her breasts, and she couldn’t help herself, she writhed, arching her back, needing his mouth on her. The need was so great it overcame everything. His eyes, staring down at her breasts, so focused, so hungry, were so hot she thought she might spontaneously combust.
He lifted his gaze from her breasts to her eyes. “Look at you. Already panting. Breathing ragged. Your body soft and melting. I love that you do that for me.” He swept a possessive hand from the valley between her breasts to the vee at the junction of her legs, watching the shiver that followed his palm. “I bet you are already wet and welcoming for me. Are you, hän sívamak? Are you that ready for me?”
She was. To her everlasting embarrassment she was. He made it sound like a good thing. A great thing. As if she was the sexiest woman in the world. More. Just the way he said it to her made her even hotter for him.
His hand continued to trail down her middle, between her breasts, across her belly—which was softer than she would have liked—and lower until his hand hovered just above her mound. More liquid heat spilled out. His mouth moved close to her left breast just above her taut nipple, so close she could feel his warm breath. Her hips bucked and she arched toward his mouth again, unable to stop herself. Needing. Even a moan escaped, a soft little pleading moan.
She moistened her lips with the tip of her tongue under the heat of his gaze. His eyes went from desire to lust, but there was something else there. Something she was afraid to name because it was too close to an emotion she knew she couldn’t have from him. Still . . . he waited. She knew what he was waiting for. She swallowed and nodded. She was ready for him. She would always be ready for him, no matter where the future took them. She’d never belonged to a man, and right now, for this time, she was wholly his.
Fane smiled, his teeth very white and strong, the smile so tender she could barely breathe as he bent his head to brush a series of light kisses around her breast. Up over the swelling curve, down along the side, underneath and then up the other side. Worshiping her—claiming her—it felt just like that, and again she felt the burn of tears behind her eyes. No one had ever touched her like he did. No one had ever taken the time to bring her body to such life.
“I knew my lady would welcome me. Thank you, beloved. You cannot know how much your welcome means to me. I love that you have done as I asked, keeping your arms above your head. Thank you for that as well.”
Clearly he knew how difficult it was for her to lie still under his heated gaze, giving her body to him when she had to struggle not to cover up. She was inexplicably pleased that he cared enough to notice.
His hand closed over her left breast and he pulled her right one deep into his mouth and suckled strongly. She cried out as fire streaked through her body, from her breast straight to her sex. Her channel rippled. Shuddered. She nearly had an orgasm just from his mouth.
So sensitive. So responsive. What man could ever expect such a gift?
He took his time, savoring the feast of her breasts. There was no other word for it. He savored while she gasped and clutched her fingers into the sheet above her head, through sheer will power, when she wanted to bury her fingers in his hair and hold him to her. Her body felt feverish. Empty. Desperate. His hands were everywhere, kneading her breasts, tugging at her nipple, sliding down to cup her mound possessively. He added his tongue and teeth until she began pleading with him.
“Fane. I have to touch you. I can’t just lie here. It’s too good.”
He lifted his head. “Just another few minutes, hän sívamak, let me have this for another few minutes.”
She might die of a heart attack. Or heatstroke. Or another mini orgasm that came out of nowhere, but she would give him anything when he looked at her like that. Once again, because he seemed to need an answer, she nodded. He smiled again, so beautiful. So perfect. All hers. She would never, ever, forget that smile or the way he looked at her as if she was the only woman in the world. She would take that vision home, burned into her mind, and whenever she was alone, she would dream again. She would allow herself that. She would dream of him.
His mouth left her breasts and moved down her rib cage to her tummy. She squirmed a little, and it took a huge effort not to cover herself up. He had a twelve-pack, or maybe even a twenty-four-pack. Not a single ounce of fat. She was soft all over, especially her tummy. She was no young girl, but a woman . . .
Stop, Trixie. You are my lady.
Fane whispered the words into her mind. So intimate. She shivered at the intimacy, almost as intimate as when he was inside her body, maybe even more so. She loved that he called her his lady. Loved it.
My lady is beautiful and sexy. Everything about her is. I love your curves and your lush body. I love the way you feel against me. For me, you are perfect. I do not care about the rest of the world, nor will I ever care what their opinions or standards of beauty are. For me, you will always be the epitome of beauty in a woman.
Now the tears really did form. She couldn’t stop them so she closed her eyes. There was no mistaking the sincerity in his voice. She heard truth from him. He really felt that way about her body. About her as a woman.
She felt his kiss like a brand on her belly button. A trail of kisses led down to her hip, first one, and then the other. He kissed her mound and the breath left her lungs. He smoothed his hands over first one thigh, and then the other, his mouth following. He pressed kisses to her legs and down to her feet. He lifted her legs and wrapped them around him as he moved up and into her, using his body to open her legs for him.
Her sex throbbed. Her channel pulsed. Hot blood rushed through her veins, calling to him. And then his mouth was there. Gentle. Not ravenous. Not crazy. Gentle. Light almost. Driving her crazy. He sipped at her as he might at the finest wine. He savored each drop of her honey. He used his tongue in a languid exploration of her body. An unhurried claiming. She thought she might go out of her mind.
Her body shuddered with anticipation at that first touch of his mouth, but then settled into a joyous, easy bliss. But he didn’t pick up the pace. He didn’t stop. He just kept on, using his mouth and fingers so that it became torturous, glorious but torturous. She began to think she might actually go crazy.
There was no keeping her hands where he wanted them. She had to touch him. Her body couldn’t keep still. Her hips bucked against his mouth, ground deep, trying to reach that explosive end, but his tongue circled her clit, flicked hard so that she gasped, reached, and then it was gone.
She caught his hair in both fists to tug him closer. “Fane.” She could only gasp his name. He really was driving her mad. He stabbed his tongue deep and used his thumb on her clit. She came close. So close. Then it was gone and he was sipping at her. Eating her as if she were a leisurely meal. Before she could settle into that, his teeth scraped and his mouth suckled and she screamed and begged.
“Fane. Please. I need you.” Her voice said it all. Ragged pants. Gasps. She could barely plead with him, unable to find enough air.
The moment she said that, he was up and over her. Blanketing her with his weight. With his heat. He caught her legs on his arms, planted his hands on the mattress and surged into her. Not slowly. Not leisurely. Hard. Deep. Fast. Perfection. Exactly what she needed. The wave took her on that first stroke. She fragmented. Dissolved. All the while, he stared down into her face as if she were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
He didn’t stop moving, taking her while her body squeezed and strangled and pulsed, scorching hot around his cock. Already, the first orgasm was building into a second, not flowing easily, but building sharply. So hot. On fire. He leaned his weight into her, catching her bottom in his hands and urging her hips to meet his harder. Stronger. Deeper. Another wave took her. Shaking her. Consuming her.