She gasped at the quickness of his action but his body covered hers before she could think or move and she became aware that he was still nearly fully clothed while she was nearly naked. She felt exposed and vulnerable.
This, she didn’t like.
He kissed her again and all such thoughts flew right out the window. Her body ignited as if the time between the white-hot passion of the stairwell and now had simply melted away.
He sucked her tongue into his mouth and she took the opportunity to explore it boldly. His hands were all over her, her hands roamed over him. Her skin tingled where he touched it and she moaned low in her throat.
He pulled his mouth away. “Take off your bloody gloves,” he commanded and, for once, she obeyed happily, shakily removing her gloves and flinging them wherever they would land.
The minute her bare hands touched the skin of his back under his shirt, there was no time to think, there was only time to feel. She felt his mouth on hers, on her neck, at the base of her throat. She felt the edge of his teeth drag against her nipple then pull it hungrily in his mouth then move to the other, only to do the same thing. She felt his hands roaming the skin of her sides, her bottom, her hips, her belly, against the silk of her stockings and then up, between her legs.
“Oh!” she cried, as he found her with his thumb, a fleeting, joyous pressure that sent her neck arching back and her mouth opening in a silent groan of pleasure. Then it was gone, only to be replaced with one, long finger sliding slowly inside her.
Her breath dragged out of her while his finger moved and his thumb again found its spot. She started panting, actually panting, as her stomach clutched and then dropped away and she pressed her h*ps urgently against his hand.
It was her turn to touch him, her hands insistently roaming, her mouth at his neck and throat, her tongue darting out to taste the salt of his skin against the hard muscle as she rode his hand like a madwoman. She was close, the pressure was building, she felt she only had to reach for it and the wild joy he was promising would be hers.
“Do you want me?” His mouth was at her ear but his finger had slid away, his thumb disappeared.
“Yes!” She didn’t hesitate, wanting it all back, wanting it immediately and willing to do anything to get it.
His hand was still gone and she arched her back, her breath ragged, her fingers desperately running down his arm to find his hand and pull it back to where it was. But this was thwarted, Douglas captured her hand in his and pulled her arm over her head, his body settling on hers as he caught her other wrist and imprisoned both over her head in one of his hands.
Then she felt him yanking at his trousers, then parting her legs and settling between them and, finally, she felt him there, just at the edge and not moving any closer.
She wanted him closer. She needed him closer.
She needed him inside her.
She realised her eyes were closed when they flew open and she saw him watching her, his indigo gaze boring into hers.
“Douglas,” she whispered and the minute she uttered his name, he slammed into her with a heady ferocity that she welcomed without question. Her h*ps lifted to receive him, her legs moved to open herself to him, one wrapped around his hip, the other curling around the back of his thigh.
He let go of her wrists and both of his hands went to pull her h*ps boldly upward to meet his thrusts, deepening them, his open lips on hers, receiving her moans in his mouth, every once in awhile his tongue shooting out to duel with her own.
She’d never, not once, cl**axed simply with a man inside her but she felt it building now, felt her muscles tensing with anticipation, her legs tightening, her fingers clawing, her mouth searching… and then he was gone. His body completely still, he was suspended where she could feel the promise of him but she didn’t have him.
She arched against him in desperation, pressed her h*ps down, sought him soundlessly and through all this he withheld from her.
She bit her bottom lip, her nails dragging down his back and when she could take it no more, when she thought she would likely die if she didn’t feel him inside her again, she pressed her mouth against his, looked into his dark eyes and begged, “Please.”
Hearing that word, he drove into her violently, burying himself to the hilt inside her, and she exploded, her entire body tensed, wrapping him fiercely in her limbs as if she would never let go and she went completely still. Except her mouth, which emitted a prolonged moan that eloquently informed him of the profound pleasure tearing relentlessly through her body.
He’d joined her moments later and she registered it with contented feminine knowledge but was still too immersed in the residual shudders and tingles of her own cl**ax to watch. Then she felt the weight of his body settle against hers.
Her response was to tighten her arms and legs.
They lay there, still joined, his heavy weight pressing her into his soft bed while her mind fought for control over her body, and lost.
It had never, ever, been this good. She hadn’t even imagined it could be, not in her wildest dreams. She felt an intoxication that had nothing to do with seven glasses of champagne and no matter how hard her common sense struggled to remind her that this was a frightening risk, she delighted in it.
Douglas lifted his head and looked at her. She didn’t know what to say so, for once, she said nothing at all.
“Do not ever flirt with another man in front of me,” he growled so ferociously his command throbbed through both of their bodies.
She blinked at him in surprise.
So that was why he was angry.