Northern Rebel Daring in the Dark - By Jennifer Labrecque Page 0,102

if she couldn’t get enough. Her tongue dueled with his. Her hands explored him, almost frantic, and she made small whimpering noises in the back of her throat, leaving him hotter and harder. She seemed to want him as much as he wanted her. She rolled to her side again, pulling him with her, reaching behind her without taking her mouth from his. Simon broke the kiss.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Reaching for a condom.”

He was such a dolt, he’d forgotten all about protection. That had never happened. He’d always been careful. That she kept a stock on hand wasn’t particularly surprising, considering her battery-powered arsenal.

She looked at him, her eyes luminous, hot. “I’m so afraid this is another dream,” she said. “I don’t want to wake up. Because if I do, I’m going to be righteously pissed.”

Simon laughed. She had the most unorthodox way of flattering him, but he was immeasurably flattered that she didn’t want to wake up if she was dreaming.

“No. We’re not dreaming,” he said, stroking his hand down her back, over the lush curve of her bum. Reality had never been so sweet.

She held a condom aloft in triumph. “Strawberry flavored.” She tore into the package. “Mind if I do the honors?”

“Please. Feel free to,” he said.

“My pleasure is—” she stroked the condom over him, her hand warm, with just the right amount of pressure, and he closed his eyes in a moment of ahhhh “—your pleasure.”

So far she’d only just touched him. She tightened her hand and stroked again. His eyes flew open.

“Unless you want the shortest foreplay in the history of man, you don’t need to do that again,” he said, his hoarseness reflecting the strain of not coming.

“I’m ready if you’re ready. I’ve had weeks of dreaming about you. That’s been plenty of foreplay.”

Simon knew a moment of performance anxiety. What if the real him didn’t measure up to the dream lover he’d been for her? And the curious, mystical, magical woman that she was, she obviously saw it in his face.

“Don’t even go there.” She leaned over him and scattered kisses over his chest, laving his male nipples, down his belly. She lapped at his rigid length and took him into her warm, eager mouth. Simon called on every ounce of his self-control not to blast off as she fondled him with her mouth. She released him and he managed to breathe again. Her hair brushed against his belly, the strands teasing against his skin. “Actually tasting you, touching you, smelling you, is so much better than it ever was in my dreams,” she said, her tone as hot as the passion glittering in her eyes.

She fell to her back, spread her legs and said with a sweet smile, “Now are you going to fuck me or do I have to beg first?”

It sent him totally over the edge when she said that. If he was any hotter, he’d melt.

He positioned himself between her legs and nudged at her with his sheathed tip. “No begging necessary.”

Simon slid into her slowly, totally captured by the expression on her face, heat and pleasure suffusing her features. She felt so good, so right, and as he slid into her inch by inch, she gripped him, as if welcoming him home.

She wrapped her legs around him and hooked her feet behind his thighs. She lunged up to meet him. A few quick thrusts and they’d both be there. He drew a deep, shuddering breath and deliberately slowed them down. They weren’t going for a distance record—they were both wound too tight, they didn’t have a prayer of making it far—but he pulled back slowly until he was almost out of her and then treated them both to a slow reentry. Tawny gasped aloud and pushed into him, sending him plunging.

“You are deliciously wicked, Simon Thackeray.”

Her honeyed Southern drawl wrapping around his name at the same time her honeyed channel wrapped around his cock nearly undid him. It was as if she’d woven some magic around them, bound them together in a union that went beyond the physical. As if she’d opened up a part of herself and invited him into the warmth and light that was more than skin-deep with her.

She was so open, so giving, and he wanted to give in return. He offered as much of himself as he could. He rode her harder and faster. Her head whipped back and forth on the bed, her hands fisted in the comforter and she