She leaned forward and put her lips against his flesh, opened them, let her tongue lick at it. The muscles beneath the skin flexed and jumped and a hard groan tore from his chest.
“You like my touch?” she whispered in awe as she looked up at him, saw the dark thunderclouds in his eyes and the flush on his cheekbones.
“Like isn’t a good word.” His teeth were clenched as she let her fingers circle the flat, hard discs of his ni**les.
No, like wasn’t a good word if it felt anywhere as close to as good as his hands felt on her.
“Seth?” She was panting, just trying to breathe as so many sensations tore through her, unknown sensations, pleasure unlike anything she’d thought she would know in his arms.
“Anything, Dawn.” He must have heard the question in her voice; maybe he heard the longing she couldn’t disguise.
“Touch me.” She tried to breathe.
She felt light-headed, off balance. His hands were at her hips, his fingers clenching, caressing, but she needed more. She ached in places that she didn’t know how to ease, didn’t know how to describe.
“Dawn.” His head lowered as though he couldn’t stop the action, and hers fell back with a cry as he bent over her, his lips moving to the swell of her br**sts above her bra. “Sweet God, Dawn. You taste like life itself.”
Shuddering, racing arcs of pleasure ripped through her as his tongue licked over the swell of flesh. He wasn’t even touching her aching ni**les and she was ready to scream from the pleasure.
“Seth, I need more.” She arched into his arms, feeling them surround her, feeling his hands flatten on her back, draw her closer to him, loosen the clip to her bra.
She was going to pass out from lack of oxygen. From pleasure. Her hands gripped his shoulders as his tongue swiped over a nipple. Her nails bit into his flesh as his mouth covered it and he sucked her into his mouth.
And still it wasn’t enough. Before she lost consciousness, she wanted to know it all. Because she knew she was going to faint. Rapid, white-hot streaks of sensation were tearing from her nipple to her womb. She could feel the juices easing from the swollen, sensitive flesh between her thighs, felt her clit throbbing, her heart racing.
And if she didn’t get some ease—she had suffered arousal in the past but nothing like this.
“Seth, please.” She arched in his arms as he moved from one breast to the next, as he sucked and licked, rasped with teeth and tongue and sent her senses spinning.
“It’s not enough,” she panted, trying to get closer, trying to crawl into him. “Seth, help me. It’s not enough.”
One hand slid from her back, over her rear. It jerked at her thigh then slid forward and cupped her between her thighs.
They both stilled. His breathing was harsh, heavy in the still air of the study, his forehead pressed against her breast as his hand moved, his fingers pressed into the humid flesh.
“I won’t stop,” he groaned, his voice agonized, tortured. “Dawn, if we keep this up—”
“Don’t stop,” she breathed out roughly. “Seth, please.”
She felt close, so close, to a pleasure she couldn’t define. One that had eluded her, but had tormented her for so many years.
Before she had time to cry out at the defection, he slid his hand from between her thighs as the other moved from behind her back as well. They met at her stomach, jerking, tearing at the metal buttons that secured her pants and sliding his palm inside.
Dawn froze, staring up at him as his head lifted and his hand slid inside her panties. His fingers inched over her lower belly, slowly, so slowly.
“I can already feel your heat.” He grimaced, his expression tight, savage. “I know you’re wet. So wet for me, Dawn. I’ve dreamed of touching you like this. Dreamed of feeling your sweetness against my fingers.”
She jerked, jumped as his fingers slid into the thick, slick juices that coated the bare folds. They slid between the lips of her sex, stroked, and she came to her toes as a long, desperate wail left her lips when his palm pressed against her swollen clit.
“God, yes!” Savage, guttural with arousal, his voice tore across her senses and wrapped them in eroticism. “Fuck. Dawn. It’s not enough.” His other hand was working her pants down, pulling her panties with them.
He jerked them over her butt, struggled to push them over her thighs, then went to his knees in front of her.
“What are you doing?” Wide-eyed, uncertain, so hot she could feel the perspiration pouring down her back, she stared down at him.
His shirt, expensive silk, hung on his shoulders, gaping open to reveal his chest as his hands gripped her thighs and encouraged her to part them.
“Just a taste,” he whispered, his expression twisted into lines of sensual desperation. “Just a taste, Dawn. Right here.” And he lowered his head to that wet flesh.