“The most danger I intend to face is that hot little pu**y creaming between your thighs,” he snarled back, jerking the shirt from his broad shoulders as his words left her knees trembling.
If her pu**y hadn’t been creaming before, it was now. Thick and hot, the juices seared the sensitive folds as her clit began to throb in an erratic, erotic rhythm. Her br**sts became swollen, her ni**les poking against her sweater, and she was certain every inch of her body was flushed from the heat rising inside her.
“Well, you’re as direct as always.” She crossed her arms over her br**sts, facing him with a frown.
“I’ve learned to be, with you.” His hands went to the waistband of his slacks, his fingers loosening the clasp of his belt with a rough movement.
“Sax.” She swallowed tightly as the belt opened and his hands worked at the fastening. “Slow down.”
He paused, staring back at her with hungry demand.
“I heeded that plea three years ago,” he said coldly. “I won’t this time, Marey. The time for games is long past.”
But he didn’t remove his pants. He came toward her instead, towering over her, making her feel weak, helpless. But protected. For such a large man, Sax had a way of turning her inside out and making her feel more feminine than any other man ever had.
“Look at you,” he sighed as he came abreast of her, staring down at her with sensual demand. “So small and perfect, your eyes darkening with arousal. Every time you look at me, I watch that, watch your eyes get dark and hungry for me. Do you know how hard that’s been to resist? How much I’ve wanted to throw you over my shoulder and take you away someplace where objections don’t exist? Where the world disappears around us and there’s nothing but me and you?”
Oh, now that really wasn’t fair. She felt the breath suspend in her lungs as her womb convulsed in longing. To hear that sexy, deep voice saying something so wickedly hot that it had her trembling in need.
How long had it been since she had known a man’s touch? Three years since Sax’s kiss. Years before that. She had held herself aloof, no matter the loneliness or the sense of isolation. It had been easier to deal with the deprivation than the rages she knew Vince was capable of.
She stared up at him, helpless, weak with the needs thundering through her as he reached out, his hands gripping the hem of her sweater.
“I’m going to taste every inch of your body,” he whispered as he drew the material over her midriff. “I’m going to eat you like candy, Marey, and listen to you scream for more.”
He was going to have her screaming for more before he even got her shirt off at this rate.
“Sax.” Her hands fluttered helplessly as the sweater cleared her swollen, unbound br**sts.
No bra. She hadn’t had time for one.
“Hell, I could come in my pants just looking at you, Marey,” he sighed as his hand gripped first one wrist then the other, lifting her arms so he could pull the sweater over her head.
She was bare to him now, her br**sts heaving, her ni**les aching in response to the heated look in his eyes. His hands smoothed down her uplifted arms, drawing them down until her hands rested on his broad shoulders.
She trembled, shuddered in driving response as his hands lowered, cupping her full br**sts, lifting them in his palms as his thumbs and forefingers tweaked the tender, responsive ni**les.
She arched, gasping for breath as heat struck from the hard tips to the center of her womb. Her pu**y rippled, the slick juices flowing in a rich stream to coat and prepare her for his penetration.
“Take my shirt off,” he whispered. “Come on, baby. Show me you need this as much as I do.”
She stared up at him nervously.
“I’m…” She licked her lips in hesitation. “I’m not good at this, Sax.”
Her fingers flexed against his chest as she stared up at him, imploring. Vince hadn’t been her first lover, but his abuse had all but destroyed her confidence. She was terrified of disappointing him.
Shame coursed through her. She had known it would be like this. He would expect her to participate, to know what to do, to know how to love him in turn. Her throat thickened with rage and tears as she realized she didn’t know, had no idea how to touch him, how to pleasure him.
“It has nothing to do with how good you are at something, Marey.” His voice was dark, deep, as he shrugged the shirt from his shoulders, her fingers touching impossibly warm teak flesh then.
She trembled at the feel of him. Strong and heated, the muscles of his chest bunching beneath her touch as her lips moved along his chest.
“Just touch me,” he crooned gently, weaving a spell of sensuality around her that was impossible to resist. “I’ve dreamed of it, your hands on my flesh, your lips, your tongue, touching and stroking me with your hunger. Show me how hungry you are for me.”
Hungry? She was starved. She could feel her hand soaking in the feel of him, sending the sensation to parts of her body that shouldn’t even be considered erogenous zones.
As she stared up him, she licked her lips, her gaze centering on his. Perfectly, sensually full, they looked warm, inviting. She needed his kiss. She whimpered with the need, suddenly overwhelmed with the thought of touching and being touched. God, she needed him to touch her. Just a kiss. One small, light touch of his lips…