Bonded to the Rakian Berserker (Rakian Warrior Mates #3) - Elin Wyn Page 0,36
was madness, he’d gladly fall.
Wrapping his hands around her hips, he lifted her up until her legs circled around his waist.
His tongue teased at the seam of her lips and she opened for him.
Her taste was intoxicating, the scent of her arousal in the air almost enough to knock him to his knees.
Cautiously he twined his tongue with hers until, meeting no resistance he pushed further, plundering her mouth, desperate to drink in every inch of her.
Sanity scrabbled for purchase around the corners of his mind and he pulled his head back, just a fraction.
“What are you doing?” he gasped. “What are we doing? Esme, earlier you said this couldn’t happen right now.”
“I know what I said,” she replied, voice dark with hunger. “I was wrong.”
Her desire called to something deep within himself, the need coiling through him, growing in strength until it echoed back at her.
“I don’t care, I want this.” She stopped, shifted further back against his hands. Even in the half-light he could see her eyes searching his face.
“I thought you wanted it too,” she said, her voice hesitant.
There weren’t words enough to explain how much he wanted this.
Wanted her.
Needed her.
He wasn’t good with words anyway.
Instead, Gavin relied on what he knew best.
Let his body speak for him.
He shifted slightly so that arm slid under the curve of her hip, supporting her weight while the other was free to range up her spine.
His fingers brushed the curve of her neck and she shuddered with eagerness, her breath catching in his throat with a little sound that made him impossibly harder.
Tangling his fingers in her hair he fell upon her open mouth. If the kiss before had been intoxicating, this was like mainlining a drug into his system.
Every move, every sound she made only made him crave her more.
Her body arched, her breasts pressing into his chest and slowly he walked back to the edge of the bed.
Still ravishing her mouth, he bent, lowering her until she was laying on the quilt beneath him.
With no need to support her slight weight his other hand was now free to glide up the smooth line of her thigh, raising the short dress she’d gone to bed in with each movement.
“Gavin,” she moaned, voice heavy with hunger, as he broke away to lick and nip at the shell of her ear.
He shifted again, straddling her hips as with his other hand he pulled the thin fabric higher until it bunched under her breasts.
Her eyes blinking, she shook herself slightly.
“This,” she panted, “this needs to go away now.”
Pushing up slightly, she wriggled until the offending garment was gone, tossed on the floor.
Gavin froze, entranced by the feast revealed before him.
Hungrily he fell to suckle and nip at one tight nipple, his other hand kneading the pillowy flesh of the other, until Esme’s fevered cries called his attention back to those luscious lips.
With the final squeeze of her breast, his hand drifted lower, over the curve of her belly and, as he claimed her mouth again, he brushed one finger over her slick outer folds.
At the first touch she jolted under him, at the second she wrapped her arms around his neck, fingers knotting in his hair and she kissed him even more passionately.
A third stroke, and then he parted her folds.
So slowly he thought it would kill him, he drove one finger into her heat.
Then she bucked her hips up, speeding the pace.
He pulled back, watched the changing expression on her face, pupils dilated, eyelids heavy.
“I was trying to be gentle,” he managed to say, as with aching, deliberate gradualness, he withdrew his finger, rubbing her mound with the heel of his palm before driving into her again.
“Be gentle later,” she panted, writhing under his touch. “Now I want more.”
Happy to comply, he slid his second finger inside her, then a third.
He had to retake her mouth at the next thrust of his hand to cut off her deep moan.
She rocked against his hand, fingers tight on his shoulders and he watched her, bewitched, drunk on every sound, every shudder until finally she exploded beneath him, limbs shaking loose, eyelids fluttering.
The sensations hit him, pulling him along until he couldn’t tell what was his passion, stirred to an unimaginable pitch by her responsiveness, or hers.
He encased her in his arms, rolled over till she lay on his chest, body still shaking from the after quakes of the orgasm.
Finally she was still.
“Esme, this doesn’t…” he started and she pushed herself on her elbows.