Stolen and Seduced - Christine Pope Page 0,101

he would just keep talking.

I smoothed my hands over the contours of his body. He held me lightly, his big hands resting against my back, content to sit there for my ministrations.

“Your skin,” I crooned. “I can’t get enough. It feels like velvet. No, better. Like the softest suede.”

He cocked his head to the side, an animal gesture that suited him so well. “I do not know this ‘suede.’ Based on your reaction, I will assume it is good.”

“Good. Very good,” I said more to myself than to him. My hands traveled down his body; my fingertips were intrepid explorers over uncharted terrain. I swallowed hard, bracing myself to see what had been hidden under the blanket.

“Holy God,” I exclaimed. I was definitely dreaming. Because that massive cock rising from his hips was like the size of my forearm.

A delighted male chuckle rumbled from his chest. “I’ve never had my cock likened to a deity before, but you are welcome to worship as you please.”

In my waking life, I would have shut down that male arrogance so fast. But, if anyone earned the right to be ‘cocky’ it would be this guy. And, since this was my stress-induced dream, I wanted to enjoy him, too.

My dream allowed me to be bolder than I ever would be while awake. I promptly wrapped my hands around his length. I needed both hands to wrap around his base; his girth tapered somewhat at the tip. Soft ridges spiraled around his shaft, and grew harder under my touch.

I giggled. “Ribbed for my pleasure.”

“Yes,” he hissed. “For you.”

Oops. I didn’t think I'd spoken aloud. I peeked up at him through dark lashes. His eyes were bright, glowing a dark amber as his intensity grew. He was a mass of rippling tension under a tight knot of control. Yet his hands remained still and passive on my back as if we were both having a casual conversation and I didn’t have his cock in my hands.

I began to stroke him, up and down, slow and sensuous.

The purring from his chest intensified. A rush of heat flooded between my thighs, dampening the blanket. He closed his eyes, a look of euphoria overcoming his face. “You smell delicious.” His eyes were bright and blazing. “I can’t wait until it’s my turn to play with you.”

“Your turn?” I asked. It was getting so hard to grasp words when all I wanted to do was act.

His thumb rubbed over my lower lip. “Was that an invitation?”

A haze of pleasure clouded my senses at his touch. I nodded, but he merely stared at my mouth. I licked my lips, his eye tracking my every movement. Wait, was he waiting for an answer? What did he ask again? “Yes,” I stammered out. “Invitation.”

As soon as the word tumbled from my mouth, he gathered me close crushing me in his arms as he claimed my mouth for a kiss. I clung to his neck, burying my fingers into his hair. It was as soft as I'd imagined.

Despite his grip on me, his lips were surprisingly gentle. “Your lips are so soft,” he said in awe. He swept his tongue over the seam of my lips, an unspoken request to open for him.

I did more than that. I darted my tongue into his mouth, exploring his taste and texture. His tongue had little ridges on it, too, and I couldn't help but think of the possibilities there.

“You taste so good. I can’t get enough.” He sucked at my lower lip, then nibbled along my jaw. Kissing down my neck, raising me higher to nip at more flesh. He lifted me as if I weighed nothing. He nuzzled my neck, murmuring words I couldn’t quite hear but I figured out the general sentiment.

I gasped and shivered as he licked my neck. Yes, his tongue was already magic. “More,” he said gruffly. With a swipe of his hand—were those claws? —my shirt was ripped from my body. He cupped my breast, nipples puckering and begging for attention. "They're so pretty, made just for me. My perfect mate."

Mate? The word pushed through the haze of my mind. I tried to grasp why that was odd, but then he claimed one nipple.

I melted under his attention as he lapped at one and then the other.

He laid me gently against the cot, which never felt this soft or warm. His gaze ravished me. “Present yourself to me.”

I should have been embarrassed to spread myself in front of a stranger.