Learning Curves - By Elyse Mady Page 0,64

it did do something undeniable to her. At a level so deep, so personal, it made her want to weep. At Brandon’s erotic pleas, she splintered and cried out her climax, the fingers on her free hand digging deep into the wall to keep her upright. The waves of pleasure crashed over her, breaking again and again, but she wasn’t satisfied. She needed more. She needed him.

Wordlessly, she spun around. A few quick steps and she was at the sofa. His shirt was unbuttoned, his pants open, his boxers rucked aside to free his cock. Two bright spots of passion highlighted his masculine cheeks. Leanne had never seen anything so sexy in her life and she knew that she had to have him inside her right now.

Nothing else would do.

Opening her legs wide, she sank onto his thighs, her knees brushing against the velvet cushions. She could smell her own arousal, wet and glistening on her hands as she ran them over his muscled chest. Tugging at his trousers, she slipped them down over his lean, narrow hips as he scrabbled for his suit jacket, abandoned over the arm of the sofa, searching for protection. He found it and she rolled the condom over his straining penis, taking a devilish moment to stroke his straining flesh, loving his gasp of pleasure.

This, she thought as she sank down his thick flesh, the engorged walls of her slick channel stretching to accommodate his girth. This is what I needed. Brandon…inside…

She couldn’t complete the thought. The needs of her body were too insistent. Leanne began to rise and fall on his lap, pushing up with her thighs before plunging down again, fucking him furiously, her hands clawing at his shoulders, her head thrown back as the first rapturous tremors began to overtake her again. He thrust up beneath her and every stroke only accelerated her wild passion.

This. She slid down, taking him deeper.

This. She rolled her hips and the pressure against her clit was blinding, overwhelming, spectacular.

This! She screamed at the final thrust and when she came, it was as if everything—her name, her identity, her very sense of self—was obliterated by the tidal wave of need. Nothing remained but the sense of rightness that engulfed her. In the aftermath of their lovemaking, her worries and her insecurities were annihilated, unable to breech the circle of Brandon’s strong arms, drowned out by the sound of his riotous breathing.

She laid her head against his shoulder, nuzzling aside his sweat-soaked shirt, and waited for the world to right itself again.

Leanne’s curls tickled the underside of Brandon’s jaw. He wanted to reach up and brush the teasing strands away but knew that he would have to loosen his arms and he couldn’t bear the thought of letting her go.

Not yet. Not after the unbelievable experience they’d just shared.

He’d been with plenty of women. Kissed them, pleased them, had sex with them. But until tonight, he’d never understood the difference between having sex and making love.

He’d never seen anything as beautiful as Leanne when she’d stripped for him. She’d been apprehensive and uncertain at the beginning but she’d persevered, and her performance had been magnificent. Not technically, perhaps—his lips twitched as he remembered her abortive attempt at a twirling climax—but there had been something in her unveiling that he’d never experience before.

Emotion.

Caring.

A deep connection and trust that made what they shared different than anything he’d ever shared with any other woman. When Leanne had danced, she’d been dancing for him. Sharing an intimate, hidden, sensual part of herself. She gave of herself without thought, without expectations. She only wanted him to be happy. She didn’t need anything else from him yet she still valued him. For who he really was. That was why their couplings were so incredibly intense. The selflessness of her gift moved him, and a tear pooled in the corner of his eye.

A tear? What the hell?

He’d made it through his childhood hell, his parents’ divorce, his grandmother’s death, and in all that time, he could count on one hand the number of times he’d succumbed to the weakness of tears. Yet here, in the quiet aftermath of their lovemaking, he found himself on the brink of crying, but not with sadness. It was with gratitude at Leanne’s priceless gift, at her generosity, at…at the love he felt for the incredible, sensual woman he held in her arms.

I love her.

He said the words to himself, over and over, waiting for the usual sense of